#im so desperate. i need him to squeeze me until i pop for real

[lovinggreeniehours]

the things i would do just to get a hug from lai.os

[the-real-basil]

SCARA OMO DELIVERY🎉🎉🎉

I have so fucking many hcs for this mf lets go💪💪💪😈😈😈

Desperation hcs

Bros got a tiny mf bladder, raiden didnt see any need to give him a big bladder

Even though hes small he pees like alot of piss, like it would go on for more than 30s

He bounces his legs

He squeezes his thighs together

He also crosses his legs

Fidgets alot when alone

Gets off to piss 🤷‍♂️

He holds it when hes by himself

He would only ask to go to the bathroom if he genuinely could tolerate the person or if he could trust them to not make fun of him

Even when he does ask, its probably too late

VERY squirmy if he was by himself

Wetting hcs

Slow wetter

He leaks. ALOT

He would probably wear a diaper if his pride let him

Give him some tea and he will probably have a small wet spot on his crotch in a few hours

He likes wetting, but only does it on purpose when hes 100% certain hes alone/can get away with it (eg, swimming, or got splashed w alot of water, home alone)

A little press to his full-ish bladder and hes gone 🤷‍♂

If he pissed himself around people he doesnt trust he'd actually go insane or probably murder them

He moans/whines when he pees

Relationship omo

If his s/o is into piss, he'd 100% drink alot of tea and make it obvious he needs to piss if they're alone together

If he had to piss during smexy times he'd probably get pounded until he pissed himself 🤷‍♂️ i dont make the rules

If he got injured badly, his s/o would likely not want him to get up, and that doesn't really go hand in hand with having a small bladder, so he would probs piss himself

Same goes with if he was sick, AND if he was sick he'd likely sneeze alot right?? And when you sneeze when u gotta piss real bad, you leak right??? Yall already know where im going w this one

If he was on a date and had to piss, he would probably wait until the other person excused themself and he would make a quick break for the bathroom

But if he didnt get a chance to piss, there's a good chance his bladder would just give up

Like he would go like "SHIT FUCK BALLS DONT LOOK AT ME PLEASE"

Peeing in odd places

Cant really pee up against a wall (trans mfs rise 💪💪💪)

He would pee in a bush

He would pee anywhere tbh 🤷‍♂️

If hes desperate enough he'd pop a squat behind a building or something (only if he was by himself, he could never bring himself to piss with someone he knew)

He would be a victim of pissing himself while taking off his underwear

He would 100% pee in a bottle if he could

Would pee in a bin

He pees in the shower (me too)

Probably peed on a towel before

Bro would pee in a cup if he was desperate enough

Omo tropes he would fit into

Tied up (yes im weird xoxo)

Fear wetting

Bedwetting

Trapped somewhere

Peeing in front of a toilet

Holding contests

Crying/tearing up

Only one toilet

Humiliation

Bladdershy

Assisted peeing

Swimming

No available bathroom

Drunk

Panic attack wetting

I will probs write fanfics ab scara pissing himself but anyways 🤷‍♂️

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 3)

i did not expect this to turn into more than just a oneshot, but here i am, posting a part 3?? and there’s more to come??? lmao, im a mess, having a million wips at a time, whatever. enjoy this DIRTY piece in the world of Harry and Actress!Y/N hehe!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 3k

warning: NSFW content (we are taking a dirty turn in this part babes)

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“But are you really sure you’re fine?” Florence asks for the millionth time over the phone. “You know, I could come over anytime, have a few drinks and forget about the idiots who decided you don’t deserve that Emmy.”

“I’m very sure,” you chuckle, sinking further down on your couch, kicking your heels off your feet. “It’s not a big deal.” “Oh it is, but you are trying to act all tough, though I know it bothers you.”

“I didn’t say it doesn’t bother me, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” you tell her truthfully.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you are this wise ass bitch, not some petty loser that I usually am.”

You snort at her words laughing loudly. Florence is by far one of the funniest people you know, she never fails to make you laugh, no matter what’s the situation.

“It’s sad that I didn’t win, but I’m fine. Really. Maybe next time it will be me,” you say, genuinely hoping this wasn’t your first nomination.

“Okay, I’ll stop bugging you, but call me if you change your mind and want company.”

“Thank you, Flo. Talk to you later.”

Once you end the call you let a long, heavy breath out that feels like you’ve been keeping in all night. Walking into your closet you stop in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, taking a look at yourself, still wearing the burgundy pant suit you wore for the award show. You were the only woman in pants all evening and you felt more powerful than ever. You’ve always loved to make a statement with your fashion choices and tonight you feel like you definitely succeeded in getting the message through: you are a bad bitch.

Stripping out of the outfit you hang it carefully before putting on some sweats and an oversized vintage t-shirt, feeling so much more comfortable already. Your hair is still in loose waves and you kind of like the texture, so you just leave it like that, moving into your bedroom to check up on some emails.

Cozied up under your duvet, laptop resting on your thighs, you start replying to some emails, updating your schedule for the next week. You almost don’t notice the text you get, barely catching the lit up screen from the corner of your eyes. Grabbing the device from the night stand you smile down at the series of messages from Harry.

“Bunch of idiots,” the first one reads.

“I’m suing them. All of them.”

“You looked fucking unreal by the way. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you read the last one over and over again. It’s been weeks since your number landed in Harry’s phone and you’ve been texting nonstop since then. Whenever you pulled your phone out to check if someone had tried to reach you, there was always a text rom him waiting for you, making you smile most of the time.

“Thanks Xx,” you reply shortly, not sure how to react to his heated words of calling the whole Television Academy a bunch of idiots, though it surely warmed your heart.

“Enjoying the after party?” his next text comes fast.

“Nope, I’m home already. Didn’t feel like partying.”

“What?! You not winning is not an excuse to skip celebrating. You still got nominated!”

“Already celebrated that, so I’m out of occasions.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Text me your address, I’m going over with wine and takeout.”

His bluntness in flirting and shooting his shot has been amusing to you since the moment he sat next to you on The Ellen Show. Harry Styles doesn’t shy away to try and show his attraction, or at least not towards you.

You hesitate a little, not sure if you want him here, but something deep down in your guts is telling you that you definitely want him to come over, some dirty thoughts already popping into your mind, but you are quick to get rid of them.

You send him your address and he tells you he’ll be over in twenty. You use that time to clean up a little around your apartment. You left in kind of a rush earlier, being a little late with your glam team, so you didn’t bother to leave the place in a decent state. It doesn’t take long though to clean up the mess and checking the time you see that you still have a little time until Harry arrives. As you walk past one of the mirrors in your hallway, you take a look at yourself, debating whether you should change or stay in your comfy homey outfit. At last you drop the idea to put on a different outfit, not wanting to look desperate when Harry arrives.

Not long later you get a notification from downstairs that a so called Mr. Styles has entered the building and is heading up to your floor. Running a hand through your hair you walk over to the front door and opening it you stand there, waiting for the elevator to arrive. When the familiar ding hits your ear you notice how your heart skips a beat upon seeing him walk out.

“Hi,” you smile at him holding the door open for him. He looks amazing, as always, wearing a pair of brown high-waisted pants with a loose white shirt tugged into it, a teal denim jacket topping the outfit. He looks comfortable, but still well put together, something you have always admired in his style.

“Hello, Love,” he smiles back at you and pulls you in for a short, one armed hug before walking fully inside. “Didn’t know what stuff you fancy, so I got a bunch,” he admits with a chuckle, holding up two plastic bags completely stuffed.

“You really shouldn’t have,” you shake your head at him smiling as you lock the front door and lead him into your open concept kitchen.

“But I should have,” he argues, setting the bags down to the counter, packing out everything he brought.

Three bottles of wine, all of them different kinds, snacks, both sweet and salty, topped with an insane amount of Chinese takeout that could feed a whole family, not just two people. You put the wines into the fridge though you know they won’t get chilly enough by the time you open it. Turning to Harry you smile at him shyly, only just now realizing that he is in your home for the first time.

“Want a tour?” you ask, pulling your shoulders up to your ears.

“Would love that,” he smirks and lets you lead the way.

The modern apartment in Manhattan has been your home for a little over a year now. One of the first things you invested into once you started earning like an A-list celebrity. It’s spacious, you did the interior over once you bought it, formed it a little more to your taste. You walk Harry through the living room, the three bedrooms from which one is yours, the others function as a guest room whenever a family member of one of your friends needs a place to stay. There are three bathrooms in total, a study room that’s always a mess, your desk filled with scripts and books most of the time, but Harry tells you it suits your vibe.

“And this here is my wardrobe,” you end the tour, flicking the lights on in the walk in closet, probably your favorite part of the place. It’s bigger than your bedroom, but it’s exactly what you and your passion for fashion needs.

Harry curiously walks inside, his eyes immediately stopping on the burgundy pant suit you wore earlier that night.

“This, Darling, was an excellent choice,” he smirks over at you, his fingers dancing over the soft fabric of the pants.

“Felt amazing in it,” you nod smiling.

“I bet you did,” he chuckles softly.

The two of you head back to the kitchen and sit at the kitchen island, roaming through all the food Harry has brought. A short silence comes over the room that’s broken by Harry first.

“So how are you really feeling about tonight?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, but then feel his hand on your knee that’s closer to him and your eyes flicker over to him, his gaze burning down on you intently.

“No, I’m asking fo’ real. You don’t have to mask your disappointment.”

Licking your lips you look back at your plate filled with dumplings and you start to just poke them around with the chopsticks in your hand.

“Of course I’m disappointed. Who wouldn’t want to win? But there’s not much I can do about it, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t push it all down.”

“I’m not the type to rage very publicly, if you haven’t realized that,” you chuckle, diverting your eyes back at him, catching a soft smile on his lips.

“That I know of. Miss No Beef,” he teases you, even though you could pretty much say the same thing about him. “I was properly screaming at the screen when they said someone else’s name over yours.”

“Yeah?” you chuckle.

“Mhm. I was rooting for you big time.”

“Well,” you sigh turning back to your plate. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nah-ah, none of that crap, Y/N,” he protests right away, dropping his chopsticks to his plate as he slides off his stool, stepping closer to you, one hand lying flat on the counter, while the other one finds the underside of your stool and he easily turns you so you are facing him, your knees involuntarily parting so he could stand between them. “I’m not letting you think of any less of yourself because of some stupid award.”

“The Emmys are not stupid,” you correct him, but it seems like he doesn’t even hear you, staring down at you with a smug grin, his hand moving from the stool to your waist.

“Mhm, they are. They made the most talented and beautiful woman think she is not the best of all.”

You can’t push down the smile that tugs on your lips as you watch him slowly lean closer. Heart beating faster, you let him do whatever he has on his mind, not finding the will to push him away. Not that you want to do that, you’d be stupid to say no to this man.

“Who’s this woman we are talking about?” you breathe out with a teasing smile. Harry smirks back at you, his hand squeezing your waist gently as his other hand moves up to the base of your neck, his thumb running along your jawline.

“The woman I’ve been fantasizing about lately.”

A desperate whimper tries to escape your lips, but you bite it back in time, feeling so lost how much effect he has on you with just a simple sentence.

“What are these fantasies about?” you find yourself asking as he leans closer, his nose brushing against yours.

You’re aching for his lips, to feel him touch you everywhere. You want to come undone under his hands and the breaking point where you won’t be able to mask up your desperate feelings is threateningly close.

“I’ve been thinking about making her feel real good. Watch her fall apart under my touch,” he murmurs lowly and this time, you can’t hold that moan back. Your lips brush against his, but he pulls back smirking, not kissing you.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when you feel his hand move from your waist to your stomach, cheekily teasing you as he is drawing circles around your belly button over the soft fabric of your shirt.

“Can I touch you, Y/N? I really want to make you feel appreciated and good. Will you let me do that?”

Not able to find your voice you whimper out something that’s close to being a yes, but it’s not enough for him and while you are losing touch with what’s really going on, Harry is very much enjoying seeing you like this, all for himself.

“Use your words, Love. I wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes!” you choke out and luckily, he doesn’t waste any more time.

You feel his lips connect with your neck as both his hands work on the waistband of your sweats, pushing them further down a little before his right hand taps on the top of your lacy underwear, the one you wore under your suit tonight, the one Harry definitely thought about when he first saw you through his screen.

You gasp when his hand slides into your underwear, fingers finding your sensitive bud of nerves, pressing down on them softly. You desperately turn your face, eager to meet his lips, but he pulls back for your dismay.

“Not now, Love,” he tells you and though the words sting a little, you don’t have much time to dwell on them when you feel his fingers slide back and forth between your soaking wet folds. “So wet for me, aren’t you?” he smirks while you’re trying to breath evenly, though it’s quite the challenge.

His lips return to your neck and your hands fly up to grab onto the back of his neck and shoulders, his fingers teasing you around your hole, not entering just yet. You start buckling your hips, desperate to get him take the next step and he is surely enjoying the show you are putting on for him.

“Ready to feel good?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, hands grabbing onto his hair roughly and a loud moan escapes your lips when he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Fuck, this feels so nice,” he groans, lips nipping on the soft skin under your ear. He is quick to take up on a pace, moving his digits in and out, his thumb circling on your clit, adding that extra magic most men always forget about. But not Harry, he is eager to please you the best he can and if you weren’t sitting, you’d be on your knees for him by now.

“Yeah, tug on my hair, Darling,” he growls, his voice sending chills down your spine as you tighten your grip in his hair just as he asked, while you feel your climax building up.

He picks up his pace, curling his fingers inside you every time he thrusts them in, making you almost see stars. Your legs fly around his waist, ankles crossing above his bum as you bring him closer, and a whimpered groan bursts out of him, probably because his erection just got squeezed against his hand by your action, his nonstop moving hand now stuck between your heated core and his throbbing member. When his head pulls back you quickly look at him, about to ask if he is alright, but he just presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as his unsaid answer that he is perfectly fine.

His forehead comes to rest against yours as he adds a third finger, making you moan his name in ecstasy. Your mind is starting to completely shut down, the sensation of utter pleasure taking over your whole body as you can feel your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

“C’mon, Love. Let it go for me,” he mumbles, his free hand sliding to your back so he keeps you flushed against him, your heaving chest touching his upper body with each drawn breath.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you pant, eyes screwed shut, tipping over the edge of your climax. “Please don’t stop!” you beg whining.

“Never, Darling.”

And he keeps his words. He keeps going and going until your walls close up around his slick fingers and your thighs tremble around his waist. You tug on his hair once again, pulling his head back just enough so your eyes meet right when you come undone. His fingers keep moving a little longer, bringing you down from your high before the last wave of your orgasm dies down and you are brought back to reality.

When his fingers slide out of you, the feeling of emptiness makes you breathe out in dismay and it brings a smile to his lips as he licks his fingers clean and you swear that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watch him taste your pleasure on his own fingers.

Glancing down you see the very visible bulge in his pants and you reach down to return the favor you just had the pleasure to get, but his hands wrap around your wrists stopping you, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

“Not now, Love. This was all about you. I’ll be fine.”

“But—“ “No,” he cuts you off shaking his head gently. “Seeing you like this was more than enough for me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you feel yourself blushing at his words, the whole situation that just went down dawning on you just now. Harry really did just finger you on one of your kitchen stools and it was one hell of an experience for sure.

When your gaze wanders over to his lips you remember how he refused to kiss you and now you actually have the chance to pay more attention to this tiny detail.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” you ask him, legs falling from his waist as he goes to sit back on his stool. He glances at you, a soft smile on the lips that never touched yours.

“I wasn’t planning to do this, but I just couldn’t stop myself. However, I’m still trying to be a gentleman, so I won’t kiss you until I’ve taken you out on a proper date.”

“I can’t believe you,” you chuckle shaking your head at the absurdity of what he just said. “So you are fine fingering me shamelessly, but you won’t kiss me without a date?” you ask, rephrasing his words.

“That’s right,” he nods, his smile growing into a smirk now. Shaking your head you turn back to your probably cold plate of food, chuckling to yourself.

“Harry Styles, you are… something else.”

PREVIOUS PART

NEXT PART

[1kook]

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.  

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected. 

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead. 

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily. 

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook. 

 Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with. 

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke. 

Neither of you laugh. 

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak. 

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got. 

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case. 

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car. 

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight. 

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him. 

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father.  “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing. 

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. ���I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance. 

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck. 

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering. 

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

[violetnotez]

Haaaaiiii! I don't know if you've done this before, but can you do a headcanon with Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, and Kaminari (separately) dating a slim thicc reader who's waaaaay to kind to everyone for her own good? Sorry if that was specific lol. It just suits my life.

HC: Slim Thicc + Overly Nice Reader | BNHA

Music Genre: Pop | BNHA

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, suggestive content

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shop Owner Note: The fuq how did you describe me in four words lmaoooo-I really liked this idea alot!!!!! Also I only did Bakugo, Izuku and Shoto caus emy brain got fried, so hope thats okay!

Midoriya

THIS GIF ISNT APART OF THE HC AT ALL I JUST FOUND IT AND NOW IM FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAYYYY😳😳

Midoriya most definitely drink his respect women juice

He was raised by his mother after all

BUT

doesnt mean the boy cant be a little perverted-

He just loves your body!!!!!

How can he NOT love everything about it, from the way your school tights slightly squeeze your thighs to the point where he feel like he cant breath

Or when you wear his shirts and its tighter around the chest and flowy around you waist

Mmmmmm lets not forget your hero suit- this man would probably kiss the shoes of the person who made your suit

Cause DAMN they really made it as tight as possible and he just loves it sm

Lets be real this dude has probably popped a boner by accident just thinking about your hero suit 😶

ANYWAYS 💀💀💀💀

He is very much respectful about you and keeps his raging hormones horniness to himself

He is ALWAYS making sure you feel comfortable in your relationship, whether its from holding hands to cuddling, he will always make sure you give your consent

Now, when it comes to your kindness, this is something Midoriya probably loves the most about you

But he does find it really concerning when he notices you say “yes” to everything somebody asks you to do for them

And running yourself down, not looking as energetic as yourself

He is very observant, so he notices little things that signal you are little overwhelmed 

Like your clothes arent as perfectly ironed as they used to be, you seem to be forgetting your own things while remembering to bring everybody else’s, your smile seems strained, and you just look stressed

He is so incredibly empathetic- it pains him to his s/o look so distraught 

It does anger him a bit that these people can so easily take advantage of you, and not even care that you arent feeling your best because of what they asked of you

But he swallows down the anger, offering to help you with whatever you need at your dorm room

He tries to make it as stress free as he possibly can, bringing your favorite snacks and playlist of music to calm your mind

But at some point hed give you a very gentle talk,,,,

He knows you havent been feeling too great, whether you deny it or not, and he wants you to know that its perfectly okay to not say “yes” to every person

He knows you mean well and you want to help everyone out of the generosity of your heart, and he loves that about you

But you as a person are important, and you come first over anyone

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Bakugo

Like Midoriya, just LOVES your body

Like cmon, how can he NOT

Dude is a ass+boob man change ma mind 

At first he deifnitely denies it-

Him??? Stare at your ass??? Pshh he was looking at the oven baka, if anything your ass was blocking his view-

You would know you caught him red handed cause he face would get redder than Momo’s hero suit and he would actually stutter—-

Which would make him extrmeely annoyed and he’d be cussing a storm+be in a grumpy mood for an hour or two

But once you two get more comfortable in your relationship-

NO HOLDING BACK

He will have use every opportunity to just be meannnn

And by mean

I mean turn slapping your ass into some sick game

Like if you dont yelp and cuss him out whats the point?

Once he slapped you so hard he legit left his big ass hand print on your butt cheek and you were about to slap his smug ass back....

But off a 50ft building  🙃

Also a big softie too

Like when you to cuddle he loves cuddling into your chest 🥺🥺

To him it’s just so comfyyyyyyyyyy

Honestly, Bakugo can’t understand at all how you can be so nice to people

It confuses him???? But he finds it really....nice???

Like half the stuff you do for people Bakugo wouldn’t ever dream of doing

He knows he’d either give that person an intimidating, dirty look or just laugh at them, cause yeah right he’d waste his time with their stupid problems

Ouchhhhhhhh

But you are totally different than him-you had a lot more patience and sympathy than he had, always coming to everyone’s rescue it seemed like

He finds it attractive and to him, it confuses the hell out of him how he does

But what bothers him is how much time you spend away from him

He won’t ever admit it, but he feels lonely when you’re not around

And what’s even worse-is by the time you do hang out with him, your too tired to even properly pay attention to him after running around and doing everything for everyone else

Bakugo the Attention Whore

One day this dude would have enough, as he’s been getting the bad end of the stick for a good couple of weeks——

He just barges into were ever your at, and doesn’t give to shits what so everrrrr

Bakugo has one mission in mind: getting his s/o back

Wouldn’t acknowledge anyone but you, grabbing your wrist and yanking you out of the room even if your protesting with him

“The hell are you doing Bakugo, let go-“

“No 😠”

“Pleaseeeeeee I was in the middle of working on something-“

“I said NO 😠😠😠”

Angry Pomeranian Activated

Once stop dragging you until he locks you in his room, forcing you to hear him out

He HATES being emotional or open, but at that, he starts spilling his guts through gritted teeth and choppy sentences,,

Saying that you waste too much time in thise “extras”, that they don’t deserve as much time as you give them, and that you have more “important” things than do all their work for them

*cough cough him being the more important thing

But hoenstly, you feel a little bad for him,,,,,

So you compromise with him and promise you’ll spend more time on him

He’s pretty happy with that,

but now he takes it one step further to make sure you deifnitely have enough time to hang out with him

If he’s around when someone asks you for help, he’ll cut them off and lie straight theough his teeth, saying you two have a “date” and squeezing you close to him with an iron grip

“Wait-Bakugo-we didnt have a date planned-“

“Tsch, now we do-“

Shoto Todoroki

I have said this timeeee and timeeee againnnn

But Shoto really is the definition of innocence

So really, it wouldn’t ever dawn on him on how killer his s/o’s body is

He’s just kinda like....yeah I know they have a butt and chest? Doesn’t everyone?😶

This poor Boi someone help him

It only really sets it after a few months of being together that he’s actually really, really in love with your body

Like how did he never notice how good you look in leggings?

Or how soft and comfortable your chest is?

And why does he want you to squeeze him with your thighs? 😳

Hormones are ragingggggg

And also veryyyyyyyy protective over you

Shoto is very observant and quiet in social situations, usually opting to check out his surroundings instead of trying to be sociable

So he’ll catch from time to time classmates commenting on you and your figure, and it never sits very well with him

At first when these incidences happened he was very conflicted, not understanding this intense jealousy and need to protect you

But after a while of contemplating his feelings, he understood it was because he was protective of you

And ohohoohohoh

This man is PROTECTIVE

He does little things you would never reallly notice until you actually do

Like when he takes you home after hanging out or a date, he lingers a little longer outside your door to make sure you’re inside safely

Or when you’re walking together he will make sure your walking inside the street and away from the cars

Also has a tendency to grab your waist or your hand when a group of men come your way

He just gets paranoid okay 🥺🥺🥺

And because he’s so protective, he doesn’t practically like that you’re being taken advantage of sometimes because of your kindness

Especially when it comes to other men

On a few occasions Shoto has spotted you in a sticky situation with a guy who was being a little too close for comfort

It would make you uncomfortable of course, you had a boyfriend you already loved a lot-

but you felt kind of bad just being a total bitch to this guy who desperately wanted a chance

So you’d just awkwardly laugh and smile with their stupid pick up lines, trying your best to be polite but also show you weren’t interested

But Shoto at this point has radar for when your in trouble, and just pops out of nowhere 💀

He’s not the type to flaunt his relationship by impulsively kissing you or anything like that, but he’ll show it in subtle ways

Like calling you “dear” or wrapping his arm around your waist

Honestly, the look of pure relief and comfort in your face shows more than Shoto could have ever done,,,

And that Shoto was deifnitely someone that was more than just a “guy fiend” and soemthing like that

Also Shoto would give them a look that could kill and that instantly scares the shit out anyone lmao

These dudes faces would deflate like balloons real quick, cause at this point everyone knows who Shoto Todoroki is

And how the hell can they compete with that

Instant “oh shit my bad” type energy

After those incidents, Shoto locks down way harder

He practically has you glued to his side, and he doesn’t let go

Like at all

Get used to it cause for the rest of the day Shoto is gonna be following you around like some body guard 💀

© Violetnote 2020

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

[tamakissimp]

D.T/T.A- sharing is caring

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: you didn’t expect your night to end a strangers bedroom with not one, but two hot men. But who are you to complain? 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: alcohol, mention of weed, griding? kissing 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2674 𝕒/𝕟: did I already post this? yes. did I delete it cuz I hated it? also yes. anyways, @uhhh-i-like-yaoi here u fucking 

Truth be told, you didn't know what to expect when Mirio dragged you along to this party. All you wanted to do was lay in your bed and fall asleep but here you were, dressed in a way too tight outfit dancing along to shitty music.

The six shots you took before stumbling over to the dancefloor finally start to kick in. The soft buzz of alcohol flowing through your veins as you let your body move. Your hips sway along to the music while your hands run up and down your body.

It was probably the number of lustful gazes you got in this outfit but your confidence was skyrocketing. You open your eyes slightly as you gaze over the dancing crowd. Most people are grinding against each other like animals in heat, though one guy is standing stiffly amidst the crowd.

His dark eyes lock with yours. A smirk plasters itself on your lips as you curl your fingers in a 'come hither' motion. The guy's cheeks burn into a bright red as he takes quick strides towards you.

Once he's close enough, you wrap your arms around his neck and press his body against yours. "Hey, handsome," you say. His body stiffens as he looks down at you.

"Wanna dance with me?" you ask. He quickly nods as awkwardly places his hands on your hips. You move one hand from his neck to his ears, fingers carefully running over one of the pointy tips.

A whiney moan falls from his lips as he instinctively grabs onto your hips tighter. "I'm Tamaki," he says. His deep voice sends heat to pool between your legs.

"I'm Y/n," you say before turning around. He moans as you press your ass against his crotch. You can feel the muscles of his chest and abs against your back as you press yourself against him.

One of his hands travels down to press your hips against his while the other moves to caress your neck. His hips start to move against you, swaying in sync with yours.

You two stay like that for a while, grinding against each other to the beat of the songs playing. Your lustful dancing gets interrupted when a raven-haired man moves to dance in front of you.

Scarred skin adorned his face multiple piercings glow under the multi-coloured light. Three on his nouse and two on his bottom lip. His rough appearance makes you desperately want to press yourself against him, though he beats you to it.

He moves to press his hips against yours, his face moving to press itself into the crook of your neck. Burning lips press desperate kisses against your skin. His teeth drag themselves over your neck, earning whiney moans from you.

Tamaki groans with jealousy. You were dancing with him first, why is this guy suddenly getting all your attention? He moves to kiss the other side of your neck.

You feel like your on cloud nine as both men sandwich you between them. Your hips rut against Tamako's while your hands caress the other men.

"I'm Dabi," he says. Good, so he has a name. You moan out his name as he sucks on your neck. You'll probably have some hickeys tomorrow but there's nothing a good old turtleneck won't cover.

The three of you get lost in the music, swaying and grinding against each other. The alcohol takes its full effect as your mind become fuzzy and warm. Movements blur together as all you can focus on become the feeling of both Tamaki's and Dabi's bodies pressed against yours.

Their hands roam over your body, grabbing and squeezing any flesh they can. You probably shouldn't be dancing like this with strangers. But you knew their names, they aren't strangers anymore, right?

You push your doubtful thoughts to the side as you press your ass against Tamaki. He groans into your ears and he lets his head rest in the crook of your neck. You look at Dabi with half-lidded eyes.

Mischief glints in his eyes before he reaches a hand out to cup your face. He pulls you towards him and captures your lips with his. The roughness of his lower lip compared to his pillowy upper one makes you moan into his mouth.

His tongue glides over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You place another sloppy kiss against his rough lips before letting your parts slightly. Dabi quickly pushes his tongue in, exploring your mouth.

You groan at his taste. Smokey yet fresh, like someone set a field full of mint ablaze. Tamaki pulls away from you slightly to enjoy the sight in front of him.

Dabi's hungry hands running over your body and your needing whines. It almost feels wrong to watch you two. Tamaki pushes himself over the edge and starts to place wet kisses onto your neck. You moan at the feeling of his teeth scraping against your skin. He leaves hickey after hickey, not caring about who might see them.

Ecstasy runs through your veins. Your nerves are tingling at the touch of the two men. You're pretty sure you've died and gone to heaven, that's the only explanation for this divine feeling.

"Do-Do you want to get-fuck. Get out of here?" Tamaki says loud enough for both you and Dabi to hear. "M-My place is just around the corner.".

You pull away from Dabi, letting your head rest against Tamaki's chest instead. Nodding against him, you looking at Dabi. Lust clouds his azure as he licks his lips sinfully. "God, yes," he growls. Tamaki locks his hand with yours while the other rests on Dabi's shoulder. He drags both of you out of the dancing crowd. Sweaty bodies bump into yours though you can't bring yourself to care.

You don't even register that you've left the party until the old night air hits your skin. Tamaki wraps his arm around your waist as he looks behind him for Dabi.

The raven-haired is fishing a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket. Tamaki sends him a sharp look though he only shrugs at it. He places a cigarette between his lips before taking lazy strides towards the two of you.

"Want one too, hotty?" he asks as he holds the carton out for you. You reach out to grab one but Tamaki slaps your hand away.

"Don't," he says lowly. His growly voice sends heat through your body. "I don't need you two to smell like smoke.".

Dabi rolls his eyes before stuffing the cigarette that was dangling from his lips back where it belonged. "You're no fun," he groans.

Tamaki simply shrugs before starting to walk towards his apartment. While he still has his arm around you, Dabi hand creeps down to rest in right against your ass. He gives it a squeeze earning a squeal from you and a chuckle from him.

You three remain relatively quiet for the rest of the walk. You bask in the fogginess the alcohol has left in your mind. A droopy smile adorns your lips and your steps are slightly wobbly, though you have Dabi and Tamaki to help you walk straight.

It's only now that you see the flush on Tamaki's skin and the haze in his eyes. He clearly had his fair share of drinks himself. And even though Dabi seems sober, the sticky sweet smell of weed wafting of him tells you differently.

Tamaki suddenly comes to a halt. He unwraps his arm from you and starts to fish his keys out of his pocket. Dabi takes this opportunity to smoothly press you against the wall. The cold bricks hit your burning skin.

His breath fans over your face. You try to push your lips against his but he just pulls away with a teasing grin. "Come on," Tamaki says as he holds the door open for the two of you.

You stumble into the building. The hot air circulating through the house is a stark difference from that of the cold night. "Up the stairs," Tamaki says with slurred words.

The three of you stumble of the steep staircase, praying to God that none of you trip and fall. You giggle to yourself as you think about how badly this situation can go. You, drunk off your ass in some strangers home.

Your worries get silenced when you see some of Tamaki's roommates walking around the house. The fact that there are others around in case the two men have malicious intents makes your muscles relax.

That's when you spot a familiar blond mop of hair. "Mirio?" you call out. Your tall friends turn around to face you. A girl with bright purple hair is clinging onto him, kissing up and down his neck. You had no clue when he left the club.

"Hey!" he says with a smile. "What are you doing here?". His eyes dart over to Tamaki and Dabi stumbling up the

stairs after you. "Oh, I see. Have fun!".

He sends you a wink before darting into his room with the girl. "Didn't know you knew 'im," you slur. Tamaki nods before pointing to a deep purple door, most likely his.

"I know him from school," he says before striding over to his door and holding it open for you and Dabi. "And he's my roommate.".

Dabi darts past you and into the room. He lets himself fall down onto the small couch in Tamaki's room. "Nice place you got here," he says. "Real nice.". His calloused fingertips run over the plush material of the couch.

Tamaki lays his hand on the small of your back before leading you into his room, closing the door behind him. Sweet citrus flows into your nose. His room is spotless. Light blue led lights illuminate the room.

"Want a drink?" he asks both of you before stumbling over to the mini-fridge standing beside his desk. You nod before walking over to the couch and letting yourself fall down next to Dabi.

Dabi wraps his arms around your shoulder and pulls you to lay comfortably against his chest. The rhythmic beating of his heart calms you down even further.

Tamaki pulls three bottles of beer out of the fridge, holding them up in the air for you to see. Dabi nods approvingly prompting Tamaki to open the bottles up for you all.

The soft pops of the caps being removed sound through the room. After the bottles are opened he walks over to the couch. You greedily grab the ice-cold bottle out of his hands before he sits down himself, beside Dabi.

You take a sip of the beer, savouring the bitter tingle it leaves in your throat. Dabi takes a swig of the bottle as well while Tamaki keeps on staring at the bed in front of him.

"Got some music?" Dabi asks. Tamaki nods. He pulls his phone out, quickly connecting with the speakers in his room. He opens up Spotify before handing the phone to Dabi.

"Y-You choose," he says before finally taking a sip of his beer. Dabi smirks as he browses through the app.

You perch up as familiar tunes start to fill the room. "Arctic Monkeys? Jezus christ, you're predictable," you say before taking another chug of your beer.

"Shut the fuck up. It's good music. Besides," Dabi says before leaning in to whisper in your ear. "It's good music to fuck too.".

Heat rushes up to your face. You already guessed that that was the reason why Tamaki asked you to go to his place. But Dabi confirming your suspicions still makes you get flustered.

Tamaki chokes on his beer as he hears Dabi talks. Dabi chuckles as he gives Tamaki's back a couple of slaps. "There there, shy-boy," he says. Tamaki holds his hand up to signal Dabi to stop. He obliges and leans back into the couch again.

It stays quiet for a moment as the three of you sip on your beers. Dabi's hand slowly creeps up your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh slightly.

"Bunny," Tamaki says. You gulp at the nickname, fuck, is it hot. "Why don't you come to sit on my l-lap for a bit?". His dark eyes bore into yours. You nod before handing Dabi your beer.

His eyes are glued on your eyes as you crawl over him before sitting down on Tamaki's lap. "You're so pretty like this," he says. Your skin is flushed, eyes droopy and smile loopy. One of his hands rests on your hip as the other moves to caress your cheek.

"You're gonna be a good little bunny for us, right?" he asks as he glances over to Dabi. He is still sipping his beer while his eyes are focused on your hips and the way they subconsciously grind into Tamaki's.

"If you don't want this, just-just tell me," Tamaki says. You shake your head as your hands move to play with Tamaki's hair. "You gotta say it.".

"I want this," you say. A smile creeps up on Tamaki's lips. He leans in closer. You quickly take the hint and press your lips against his.

The bitter of the beer he just drank still lingers on his lips. His lips move against yours softly and sloppily. His hand cups your cheek while yours tug softly on his hair.

He lets out a groan at a particularly harsh tug. Your hips grind into his on the beat of the music. Tamaki relishes in the heat radiating off your body. Your soft skin pressed against his, your sweet taste on his lips and fingers tugging on his hair.

Tamaki pulls away, earning a whine from you. "Fuck, bunny," he groans out. Your hips don't stop their movements even when you can feel him becoming hard under you. You let your head rest against Tamaki's chest as you look at Dabi.

He is still holding onto a bottle of beer in one hand while the other is palming himself through his jeans. He licks his lip, running over the cold metal of his piercings.

"You two sure know how to put on a show," he says. His voice borders a growl, making it all the hotter. You make grabby hands towards him.

Dabi obliges by placing his beer on the floor next to the couch and leaning forward until his body is pressed against Tamaki's. He starts to run his hands over your body. His fingertips linger around your hips and thighs.

"Whatever will we do with you?" he asks while looking at Tamaki. The indigo-haired in question leans towards Dabi to whisper something in his ear.

All you can do is stay seated in Tamaki's lap and grind your hips against his at an agonizingly slow pace. The small amount of friction goes straight to your stomach and helps to build up the knot forming.

Dabi smirks at Tamaki's words before he stands up off the couch. "Baby," he coons. "Why don't you go sit on the bed and be nice and pretty for us?". His cooky grin makes your heart skip a beat.

Tamaki nods at you as he lifts his hands off your body. With wobbly steps, you make your way over to the bed. You sit down on it, noting the plushness of the covers.

Dabi and Tamaki take their stand before you. They gaze down at you with lust in their eyes. "Think you can handle the two of us, baby?" Dabi asks. You nod at his words.

"Of course they can," Tamaki adds. He takes a step closer to you to gently cup your cheek. You melt into his touch. God, you could stay like this forever. "You'll be a good bunny for us, right?".

"If not, we might have to punish you," he adds, earning a chuckle from Dabi. You look up at the two men through your lashes. You can't help but get turned on beyond belief at the sight of them. You're in for a long night, that's for sure.

[megalony]

Labour pains- Part 2

This is the follow up to my Murderer! Ben Hardy imagine which I hope you will all enjoy, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr​​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​​ @luckytrashgooprebel​​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez​ @jonesyaddiction​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​ @allauraleigh​ @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) have a son together and are expecting another baby, but problems arise when (Y/n) is adamant she doesn’t want to give birth after the trauma of her first child.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright doll, I think we should go to the hospital now." Ben's words were gentle but still full of caution as he slowly sat down on the bed beside (Y/n). He didn't want to upset her or make her feel scared but it was getting to the stage where he knew they needed a midwife so they needed to go to the hospital.

For the past week Ben hadn't gone to work in case (Y/n) went into labour, they were only eight months right now and they had been past their due date with James. But (Y/n) had been uncomfortable for the past few days and the baby seemed to be moving a lot and laying lower than normal. Now it seemed that (Y/n) was in fact in labour and Ben was very pleased he hadn't gone to work because he hated the thought of (Y/n) being alone when this happened.

"No!" (Y/n) shook her head and snapped her eyes closed when another pain coursed through her stomach and made her lower back tense until she was sure her spine was going to snap in half. She didn't want to have this baby but she really didn't want to go to the hospital anymore.

The midwife had said it would be better if they had the baby in hospital due to how badly (Y/n) was panicking about the labour. Then there would be a lot more help available and if something went wrong it could be taken care of very easily. Ben seemed to agree to the idea and (Y/n) did as well in the beginning because she didn't care. She agreed because she didn't want to argue or talk about it, (Y/n) simply wanted to forget that she would have to give birth. And there was a small part of her that was praying that if she went to hospital and was this distressed they would give her a C-section and end all her pain and worries.

Now she had changed her mind.

"Doll we need to let a midwife take a look at you, I don't think we can sit here for the rest of the night." Ben rested his hand on (Y/n)'s lower back and started to rub soothing circles into her skin which looked like it was easing a little of the tension she was feeling. But he could see in the way her lips pressed together tightly that she wasn't happy or agreeing with him.

"No! They'll c-call a doctor, I don't want to go to hospital." (Y/n) kept her eyes tightly closed as she shook her head in defiance. If she went to the hospital there was nothing stopping a midwife from letting a doctor into the room and (Y/n) couldn't have a doctor coming anywhere near her. She wasn't even sure about a midwife getting too close because last time the midwives didn't seem to know what on Earth they were doing. They just let the doctor do what he pleased and they stood back waiting to take James away from (Y/n) the moment he was born.

"Doll we need to get you to a midwife-"

"If we go to hospital you can't- ... can't stop a doctor c-coming in, you can't let a doctor hurt me! Ben please..."

(Y/n) rubbed her free hand over her stomach as her other hand was braced on the edge of the bed which she felt she might fall off in a moment. She couldn't sit any further back on the bed because it put too much pressure on her lower back where the baby was already pressing on very hard. And if (Y/n) tried to stand she would only fall to her knees.

Ben could tell that when he eased his arms around (Y/n)'s waist she wanted to pull away from him like she thought he was going to hoist her to her feet and carry her to the car. But she didn't have the energy or the will to move so she tensed her body and tilted her head down until her chin was pushing into her chest. He could feel how she was waiting for him to make a move, to stand up and pick her up or try and pull her with him so he could take her to the dreaded place she couldn't force herself to go back to.

But he didn't. He eased (Y/n) back until she was leaning into his chest and he pressed his lips to the side of her neck, trying anything he could think of to keep her calm and settled.

"Doll, I swear to God that I'm not letting anyone hurt you or come near you if you don't want them to. I need a midwife to come see you but if you don't want to go to hospital then we won't, you can have this baby here at home because you're safe here and I can stop anyone from coming in if you don't want them here. Does that sound okay?"

If (Y/n) couldn't face the hospital then that was fine, Ben figured it would be more comfortable and settling for (Y/n) to have the baby at home in her own bed. She was somewhere that she always felt safe, Ben was here and he could stop a doctor from entering their home and he could tell the midwives to leave (Y/n) alone if she got too panicked and frightened. This was an environment that they could control, unlike when James was born. The only person that was going to hurt (Y/n) was the baby and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

"I- I do want this baby... b-but it hurt so much-" (Y/n) tried to look up at Ben but the tears forming in her eyes blurred his image and made it too hard to keep her eyes open. She snapped them closed and leaned her head against Ben's cheek, feeling herself beginning to shake even though Ben was rubbing circles into her skin and swaying them a little.

"I know you do doll." There was no way that Ben could be angry or upset with (Y/n) and he knew her so he knew that she did want this baby. She wasn't so distraught and afraid that she despised and hated the baby. Once this was all over and done with (Y/n) would try and forget this memory and focus on the new life that they had created. Ben was proud of (Y/n) and he couldn't fault her for the way she was reacting when she had been hurt so badly the first time. He just wanted to help but there was very little that he could do other than reassure her that he wasn't going anywhere and that he would keep her safe.

Ben moved his left hand and held it out in front of (Y/n) when she tensed and he figured another pain had suddenly hit her. He felt her fingers slipping into the grooves of his own and she rubbed her palm against his chapped one. She forced a lot of pressure onto his hand and squeezed against the joints and knuckles that had been broken many times before but there was very little pain for Ben. He had a high pain threshold that (Y/n) needed right now.

"Alright baby, I can hear the doorbell so that'll be mum here for James. I'll go get him ready and call the midwife to come here then I'll be right back with you, okay?"

Ben waited until (Y/n) let go of his hand and managed to nod in understanding before he dared move her enough so that he could stand to his feet. James was still in bed and would either be half awake or fully asleep by now but either way it didn't matter. Ben would carry him down and settle him into his mother's car so she could care for him while his new brother or sister was born.

(Y/n) could hear Ben's heavy steps as he headed out of the room and she could feel the atmosphere changing as his presence disappeared from the room. She didn't like being alone like this, the pain clouded her judgement and made her feel more desperate than she felt when she had Ben holding her. His arms were a safety net around (Y/n) and he made her feel at ease. Despite knowing what anguish normally rattled through his head and the terror his hands imposed when fisted in gloves, Ben's murderous side never showed when he was around his wife. All he made (Y/n) feel was safe and loved and right now she needed that more than ever.

When (Y/n) managed to open her eyes she looked past the open door and into the hall just long enough to catch Ben walking past the doorway with a sleeping James tucked up in his arms resting against his chest.

Whenever she saw Ben carrying James it was always in the same way, he rested James up against his chest and carried him with one arm as if their boy weighed nothing more than a feather. And even in his sleep, James was tracing the tattoo on the back of Ben's neck that he was always so fascinated by.

Her eyes followed her two boys for a moment before they suddenly snapped closed like shutters on a shop when a particularly bad pain made her legs quake and her body jerk forward.

Not knowing what to do with herself nor wanting to stay sitting on the bed, (Y/n) pushed herself to her shaking feet, wondering if pacing the length of the room might help like it had done when she had James. It hurt to walk but it hurt even more to sit and (Y/n) knew if she tried lying down she would never get back up again. But when she did a second lap around the room, (Y/n) stopped dead on her feet and stared down at the floor when she felt like there was a balloon in her stomach that had popped.

When she saw the water trickling down her legs (Y/n) suddenly felt sick to her stomach. The pains made her afraid but her water breaking made this all seem and feel real. (Y/n) didn't want this to be real, as much as this baby meant to her (Y/n) didn't want the pain it would bring her. She didn't want the pain or anguish or torment because it hurt and it wasn't something she wanted to relive.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and reached her right hand out to feel for the bed as she started to move.

"No baby, no baby." (Y/n) repeated the words like a mantra she was desperate to believe as she headed over to the adjoining bathroom. She couldn't do this, (Y/n) couldn't have this baby and she didn't want to. Why couldn't she have a remote for time and skip ahead to where the pain would vanish?

"Doll- doll what are you-" Ben cut himself off the moment he came to the doorway of their bedroom and caught sight of (Y/n) practically crawling into the bathroom. Part of him wondered if she felt like she was going to be sick but he reeled back when (Y/n) slammed the door behind herself but when Ben heard the lock on the door chime he felt himself going rigid.

What was she doing?

"Doll what are you doing in there?" Ben approached the door with caution and he rapped his knuckles against the wood quietly but the controlling, darker side of him wanted to use more force and bang his fist against the door to get it open. He didn't want (Y/n) stuck in there alone because he didn't like the thought of (Y/n) trapping herself in the bathroom with how she was feeling and panicking. "Doll open the door."

"I- I don't wanna do this, I can't... I won't do it again." (Y/n) leaned her head on her folded arms that were resting on the sink. She arched her back out and tried to focus on the feeling of the cold sink making her burning arms feel more at ease.

"Baby now listen to me, you can be helped through this but not if you're gonna shut yourself away in here. Open the door and let me help you baby."

"I want it to stop and you can't stop it! I won't do it Ben I- I can't! I'm n-not having this baby I h...have to make it stop."

Ben felt his blood running cold at the desperation in (Y/n)'s voice and he could almost picture her shaking as she spoke, the fright taking over her system. He wanted to take her in his arms and make it all go away, he wanted to say he was sorry and change what had happened with James so (Y/n) wasn't scared and afraid of being hurt and cut up again. He wanted to show her that no one was doing anything to her again because he was here to protect her. But he couldn't because she was hiding away from him and everyone else because she was in pain and she wanted it to stop.

"What do you mean, doll?"

Ben leaned his forehead against the door until he could feel the wood splintering into his skin and he could hear (Y/n) crying and gasping for air. He could even tell when she was having a contraction because he could hear the hitch in her breath and the way she tried her best to breathe through a moan of agony.

"Doll what the fuck do you mean by that? Open the door now or I'll break it down." The tension in Ben's voice was clear because he too was scared. He didn't doubt that (Y/n) felt like she couldn't do this again but now he was afraid that she was going to do something rash or hurt herself because she was so desperate not to have this baby.

Ben tried his luck fighting with the door handle before he conferred with himself that he was going to have to either kick the lock or bash his side into the door to snap the metal bolt preventing him from getting to his wife.

"Doll I'm sorry I am but you're in labour, you can't stop this but you can make it easier if you open the door and when the midwife gets here everything will be okay. But if you don't let me in I'll break the door because I think you're gonna do something bad."

"Why does it have to hurt?" The broken and very quiet tone of (Y/n)'s voice made Ben's heart jump in his chest and his expression fell like it was too hard to hold up any longer. He felt the door move when (Y/n) seemed to push or lean on it but she was making no effort to open the door. She knew he wouldn't break the lock if she leaned on the door because he didn't want to hurt her and it was only fuelling the rage inside of him and that hurt him more than anything else.

"I don't know baby and I'd do anything to make it painless for you. But it won't hurt like last time because that bastard isn't gonna be here. No one is gonna cut you, no one will hurt you or be cruel or do anything you don't want them to or without telling you. We both know you can't have this baby on your own in there you need to open the door soon."

Ben didn't want to be cruel and demand that (Y/n) open the door or move away so he could break it, he was trying to coax her gently to open the door but he couldn't tell if it was working. (Y/n)'s lack of cries and screams was a good sign but he couldn't tell if she was panicking or not and she sounded in between distress and a stage of coping with this mess.

"W-what did you do... to him?"

He didn't want to tell her. Ben didn't want to admit what he had done because it had been a silent agreement between them that (Y/n) was better off not knowing.

When the doctor hurt (Y/n) security had to restrain Ben after he followed the doctor out of the delivery room when everything was over and he pinned him up to the wall. And (Y/n) could remember the day after the birth even though she had been on pain medication. Ben came into her hospital room with broken knuckles and his tail between his legs because (Y/n) didn't condone him fighting unless it was in the ring and he knew it. All he told her was that the doctor wouldn't hurt anyone else like he did her and in her state (Y/n) simply nodded and chose to forget what he had said and done.

(Y/n) was always too afraid to ask because she knew what her husband was capable of and at the time she had been eighteen and the worst she had seen Ben do had given her nightmares. But now she wanted to know what he had done, maybe it would make her feel a bit better to know that the doctor had been hurt just like she had.

"I followed him after his shift, he didn't give a fuck what he'd done he already forgot how badly he hurt you and I couldn't let him get away with it. I trapped his hands in the door of his car, broke all his knuckles and snapped his fingers to the back of his hand. I cut him too but he passed out at that point. I know how much he hurt you and he got it ten times worse doll, I promise. But no one is gonna do anything like that to you again."

Ben had pinned the doctor up against his car but he didn't even remember (Y/n) or what he'd done to her until Ben vividly reminded him all of what he'd done. Ben told him that his hands were mangled and would forever stay that way so no other girl or woman would have to be cut up like a piece of meat and no other baby would be born and left not breathing like James had been. Then Ben took a knife to him to show him what he had done to (Y/n) without giving her any pain relief before or after he took a knife to her.

Ben didn't kill the doctor no matter how desperate he had been and how easy it would have been for him to do so. He let him live because it was a better punishment for him to live with his injuries and never forget why he had them.

"Baby please open the door, this is the last time I'll ask."

Ben didn't know if it made (Y/n) feel better or worse, knowing what he had done to that doctor but he couldn't care anymore. He wanted (Y/n) safe in his arms and he couldn't trust her in there on her own.

"(Y/n) open the door!" Ben raised his voice and slammed his palm down against the door when (Y/n) screamed and moaned from a contraction that Ben could almost feel with the way her scream tore through his every fibre. It sounded like she had slumped against the door from the pain but when she started to sob and mumble something incoherent Ben started to shake. He couldn't trust her not to hurt herself.

A shudder ran down Ben's spine and he took a step away from the door when he heard (Y/n) moving about before he suddenly heard the cabinet above the sink behind opened. Ben knew exactly what they kept in that cabinet and if (Y/n) was serious about being too scared and in pain to go through with labour he knew what she might do and use to try and make it stop.

Ben rammed his left shoulder and arm into the door with force enough to feel the hinges squeak in fear and the second time he barged his weight and frame into the door the metal lock gave way to his demands.

The moment the door swung open Ben stumbled into the room and quickly reached (Y/n). She was coiled over the sink in a way that told him she was frozen due to a contraction but her face was flooded with tears and there was a bottle of pills sitting in the sink like she had knocked them off the shelf.

Saying nothing, Ben wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and spun her round so she was facing him and not the sink. He slipped am arm under her legs and the other around her back so he could pick her up and he felt relief coursing through him when (Y/n) didn't fight him. She curled up in his arms like she was shrinking and she buried her face in the crook of his neck but it did nothing to smother her tears.

"Shh, you're okay doll, I've got you." Ben spoke soothingly against her temple even though his voice shook from adrenaline and nervousness. He dared not think what (Y/n) might have done if he were only two or three seconds later in breaking the lock on the door.

Ben rested his knee against the bed so he could carefully lower (Y/n) down onto the bed, watching as she painfully shuffled to lay on her side but she hooked her arms around Ben's neck and pulled him down to her all the same. She couldn't let him go, the pain was becoming overwhelming and if he left her again she would be falling without her safety net there to catch her.

"Doll, the midwife's here. Do not move until I get back because you are gonna be perfectly fine. I don't want you being terrified about this baby because you know what you're doing and I'm not letting anyone hurt you, you know that don't you doll."

No one was going to hurt (Y/n) this time because Ben wouldn't allow it and he couldn't have her panicking because he was here and he wasn't going anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"One more push (Y/n), and then the head will be born, you're so close now." Lucy smiled up at (Y/n) from where she was kneeling on the floor in front of her but her smile wasn't comforting to (Y/n) because the pain was far too high for her to control or bear.

(Y/n) tightened her hands in Ben's and she could feel his elbows pushing into her sides like he was making sure to keep her back pressed into his chest. They were both sitting on the very edge of the bed because (Y/n) was at ease like this rather than lying down but Ben felt like she was going to fall onto the floor so he was trying to hold her tightly but not too tight so he wouldn't hurt her.

"Baby's almost here (Y/n)." (Y/n) opened her eyes and looked down at Lucy who had been very calm and attentive and understanding over the five hours she had been here but (Y/n) had been less than cooperative. She didn't want to do this but Lucy was taking everything in her stride, even when (Y/n) flinched or cried or told her to leave her alone. But when she saw Lucy moving to go through her bag she tensed up in Ben's arms and tried to push back into him.

"No! N-no don't..."

"Doll, shh she's not gonna cut you I swear. Shh." Ben pressed his lips to (Y/n)'s ear and started humming to try and calm her down, tensing his chest so (Y/n) couldn't push back into him anymore than she was trying to do. But he looked down at the midwife kneeling before him to try and silently tell her that she would have to reassure (Y/n) herself.

"(Y/n), baby doesn't need any help from me, you just have to push I'm not here to hurt you because you seem to know exactly what you're doing. Look, no knives or tools here." Lucy held her hands up for (Y/n) to see that the only thing she had was gloves and nothing else. No knife, no scalpel, no other tool to cut (Y/n) or pull the baby forcefully into the world. (Y/n) didn't need any help because the baby wasn't stressed or stuck or in dire need of assistance.

Ben continued to whisper little nothings into (Y/n)'s ear as she cried out, leaning forward until Ben clamped his arms against her sides so she didn't fall off the bed.

"See, baby's head is born now (Y/n), one more push like that and it'll all be over and done with."

Those were the words (Y/n) had been so desperate to hear and tell herself for the past eight months. She had been desperate to hear someone tell her that it would be over and done with, that she could forget all this ever happened and just turn it into a distant nightmare that was over and done with. (Y/n) wanted this baby in her arms and all the pain to go away forever.

It felt like (Y/n) was being cut in two but this time there was no knife splitting through her skin that would have to be stitched up later so that (Y/n) couldn't sit down without agonising pain coursing through her body for weeks afterwards. There was no doctor forcefully pulling her baby out into the world or ripping her skin apart without telling her what he was doing or why. There was only Ben and Lucy and neither of them were doing anything to hurt (Y/n) just like Ben promised.

"And baby's here! You've done it, (Y/n), you have a baby girl."

Ben quickly let go of (Y/n)'s hands so he could wrap his arms properly around her middle and shuffle further back onto the bed, easing (Y/n) with him when she seemed to go limp in his arms. He knew she hadn't passed out but she didn't have anymore energy left in her and he couldn't have her slumped against him when she was sitting so far on the edge of the bed. He kissed her temple when (Y/n) let her head fall back onto Ben's shoulder and he could feel her relief as he mumbled praises against her skin.

(Y/n) pushed herself more into Ben the moment their girl was placed into her arms that were really starting to shake from relief, adrenaline and pain. The pain wasn't gone yet and she knew it would still last with her for a while but it wasn't as bad as it had been earlier and it was worth it. She had been so scared that when their baby was placed into her arms, she would feel that the pain she went through wasn't worth the outcome. But (Y/n) could see their daughter was worth the pain she didn't want to go through.

"You've done it, doll. My clever girl."

[calpops]

stuck in the storm | c.h.

A record shop Calum and baker reader one shot 

Word Count: 1.5k 

@rbforsmileycal Ok I am LOVING the business AU. So to continue with cal and baker reader- let’s say the bakery closes earlier than the record shop so one day reader is locking up and planning to walk home/to the bus stop/ subway or whatever. And it was raining outside and reader thought it would be that bad... but it just gets worse as she leaves and so in a desperate attempt to get dry she runs to the record shop bursts in soaking wet to find Calum who is a very enamored and concerned bub (who knew someone could look so cute all soaked) and he just stands there admiring her for a sec before jumping to action and trying to help her get dried and wait out the crazy weather (geez this is long but SERIOUSLY I LOVE THIS CONCEPT)💖💖

***

A light spattering of rain turns to torrential downpour in the blink of an eye. You’re barely two steps past the awning over the bakery door and blocks away from home; cold rain seeping through your thin jacket quickly. The bakery doors are already locked and set for the night, you feel as if there’s no turning back now to wait out the rain. But with a few steps more and a shock of lightning torching the night sky your heart takes off, racing uncomfortably hard as you sprint across the street. Welcoming lights in the record shop across the way indicate it’s still open, a viable shelter to escape the storm. And maybe, a chance at more conversation with Calum. You don’t even think about it as a rumble of thunder has you pushing open the doors; eyes wide in fear and body shivering from the cold clinging to your clothes.

You’re not too familiar with the store, having only been in once when Ashton gave you a gift card. But you know the register sits at a straight across from the bay window of the bakery, sometimes sneaking glances of Calum stood behind the desk as you roamed past cases of already made desserts; sometimes pretending to work and take stock, other times being a little more obvious in your endeavor. You crane your neck toward the register but Calum’s not there. You turn, conceiving a plan of roaming the aisles and pretending to look through albums you have no interest in until someone comes through. But you jump in surprise when you’re met with concerned brown eyes and unsure hands timidly reaching out to you and dropping instead of being met with wooden crates of albums.

“Are you okay?” Calum asks after a moment, eyes taking in your shaking cold frame and the fear that’s still evident in your eyes. “What happened?”

You’re still a bit breathless from your run across the street, from the heart pounding scare of lightning and thunder coming out of nowhere.

“Got stuck in the storm,” you explain hastily, watching Calum’s eyes flicker to the window and realize the severity of the rain, just in time for another strike of lightning. “It wasn’t so bad when I locked up. Then it was. Real quick,” you finish in a staggered rush.

Calum nods in understanding and waves you further in. You take small steps, wet shoes squeaking on the tiled floor and arms wrapping around your body to beg for warmth. A shiver pushes past your lips and Calum looks back at you with eyebrows furrowed, inquisitive in his thoughts as he leads you towards the back of the store. He disappears behind the desk, ducking down for a moment before popping back up with a small towel. He offers it to you, eyes skirting down your soaked clothing, lips pursing as he formulates a plan.

“I can hang your jacket to dry,” he offers, hands outstretched to exchange the towel for your jacket.

You peel off the soaked material, goosebumps dancing across bare skin, thankful for the towel though it only dries you minimally. You wipe down your arms and neck, squeeze some water from your hair and bite your lower lip as Calum turns back around to you after hanging your jacket. Your feet are freezing, shoes soaking through your socks and numbing your toes. Your T-shirt and pants are still wet but the warmth of the store aids the drying process.

In a quick moment Calum rounds the desk and shrugs out of his jacket. He offers it to you wordlessly, placing it over your shoulders with such sincerity and kindness clouding his eyes it takes your breath away momentarily. Your heart rate that had finally settled from the shock of the storm picks up again, racing at the small contact of Calum’s fingers brushing your shoulders.

“You don’t have to-“ you begin but Calum clears his throat and cuts you off.

“Need it more than me.”

You can't argue with that, are appreciative of the warmth the leather jacket gives you. It’s lined but you figure most of the warmth comes from Calum’s body heat as you sink into the worn material. Your toes scrunch in your shoes, body reacting to the pleasant warmth and before you can even voice thoughts of cold feet Calum’s offering for you to go behind the desk and take your shoes and socks off to dry by the heat vent on the back wall. You take him up on his offer immediately, an immense amount of gratitude coating your thank you to him. He brushes it off and tells you it’s not a problem, that he’s just glad you’re safe from the storm and the cold. Your cheeks heat at his admission, a twinge of something unknown making your stomach flutter. You decide finding refuge within the record shop was one of your best ideas.

You find yourself sitting behind the desk with Calum, coat hung up and shoes and socks laid out by the heat vent, as you wait out the storm. You make idle small talk as he sifts through business papers and you watch his minute reactions to the music still playing from the speakers. Most of it is easy going, soft songs with serene melodies and beautiful lyrics. Calum catches you staring but you don’t mind; having caught his glances through the windows times before. He smiles and you smile back, the empty store close to quiet aside from a love song as white noise.

“You know,” you begin, a new round of small talk entering your thoughts. “For a store name  synonymous with chaos, it’s quite calm in here.”

Music Mayhem is quite the contrast to its name. Soft wood tones and low lighting give the store a welcoming and comfortable presence. Overstuffed chairs dot the store randomly, welcoming patrons to stay a while. Vases and pots of flowers and plants—some less kept and alive than others—are strewn about shelve tops every now and then. Select instruments are set for display and obscure band posters plaster drywall. Everything about the shop is inviting; personal for all yet somehow still specialized to the tastes of the owners. You don’t know Calum all that well yet, but you can still catch glimpses of his personality in the store.

Calum smirks at your remark; his voice nearly in harmony with the music in the background. “Ashton says it’s supposed to be ironic. I think he just likes alliteration.”

You laugh; a floating feeling capturing your chest, making your heartbeat feel free. You continue the conversation and it’s so easy it feels right.  You wish the rain would never stop, that time could still and your private moment with Calum could last. But you can hear the rain outside, it’s lessening by the minute. You haven’t seen a flash of lightning or heard a rumble of thunder in nearly ten minutes. A desperate feeling washes through you at the realization—Calum disappearing from the desk to start closing up—that your time tucked away in the deserted record shop with him is coming to an end.

Calum comes back to the desk; you having taken a hint and getting your socks and shoes back on, swapping jackets—donning your still slightly damp one and  moving from behind the desk.

“Let me drive you home again,” Calum says and it feels much less a question or request and more a matter of fact that sets the disappointment of a disappearing storm at bay. “You probably shouldn’t wear that yet.”

Calum lightly pinches at the sleeve of your jacket, feeling the damp with the pads of his fingertips.

“You could catch a cold. You can borrow mine for the ride.”

And so you do. And you both accidentally forget you're still wearing it when he walks you to your steps and tells you goodnight. Only once you’re back inside do you realize you have a reason to see him tomorrow; leather still draped across your shoulders.

***

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

Copyright 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This work is not allowed to be uploaded by anyone else in any format (translations included). 

Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @empathycth @cuddlemecalx @calumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @goth5sos @gosh-im-short @feliznavidaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug​ @g-l-pierce​ @talkfastromance4​ @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​ @cthoodsthetic​ @calumscalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @akafeliznavidaddy​ @myloverboyash​ @treatallwithkindness​

[hopelikethemoon]

Conclusions (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Conclusions  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2100 Warnings: Angst (fear of abandonment, jumping to conclusions)  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in November 1992. Shoutout to @heather-lynn​ for unintentionally convincing me to finish this.  Summary: Reader wakes up alone.

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​ @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Despite how exhausted you were every day, sleep seemed to be a rather difficult pursuit to achieve. A pursuit that seemed to evade you until those last few hours before your alarm clock went off and a new day was forced to begin. Even on the weekends, your body refused to let you get more than a handful of hours of sleep. 

Being pregnant sucked. At least you weren’t throwing up quite as frequently as you were in those first few months. 

Recently — very recently — you had discovered that Javier was pretty good at putting you to sleep. Sure, he gave a killer back massage, but his real skills came from his mouth. That first night with him hadn’t given him the opportunity to show off what his mouth could do. 

All Javi had to do was spend an hour or so between your legs, helping you crest over the edge, and in the post-orgasm haze your body finally gave in and let you relax. 

But just because he got you to fall asleep, didn’t mean the baby growing inside you would let you stay asleep. Like clockwork, somewhere around one or two in the morning you’d find yourself wide awake until you finally fell back asleep somewhere around five. It was torture. 

The sunlight streaming through your bedroom window was what started to wake you up at first. You stirred, stretching your legs out beneath the covers — seeking a cool spot to keep them as you started to roll over onto your other side.

“What time is it?” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you reached out beside you. Your heart sank as you found the bed beside you empty. 

It was the weekend. Javier always stayed over for the weekend. 

You ran your hand over the sheets beside you, finding them cool to the touch. He hadn’t been laying there for at least an hour. Maybe longer. 

Had he said something about not being able to stay? As far as you knew, he wasn’t on assignment this weekend. Javier tried his best to avoid being thrown into the field over the weekends — it was the only time the two of you could just be.

A rush of unbidden emotion flooded your senses. 

What if he had left? What if, at some point last night, he’d decided he didn’t want this. The baby. You. 

And that cut you to the core. 

Maybe you deserved it. After all, you’d been the one to leave him first. Was this how he felt the morning after? Confused. Alone.

You rolled onto your back, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in a vain attempt to forestall the tears that you felt brimming in them. You couldn’t fucking stand how emotional you were. You were never one to cry. You’d been through too much shit in your life to sit around and cry about it… but pregnancy?

Everything made you want to cry. 

But this? The sudden rush of fear that Javier had finally had enough of this bullshit, made you want to crawl into a hole and die. You could do this alone, if you had to… but you couldn’t do it in Colombia.

Knowing what it felt like to be loved by him — losing that? You weren’t going to subject yourself to the pain of having to work across an office from him. Maybe they’d let you transfer to another office stateside. 

You could go back to Atlanta, if they’d have you there. You’d left on good terms and given your situation, you’d take a shitty desk job just to stay with the agency. You’d work your way back up from the groundfloor if you had to.

The tears fell freely, trailing down over your temples and dampening your pillow just above your ears. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to stop jumping to conclusions. But you were already mapping out a future for you and your baby that didn’t include Javier. And that brought on a fresh wave of tears. 

You could do this on your own. You didn’t need anyone. You were actually really good at living your life alone. Besides, you wouldn’t be alone if you had your daughter. You wouldn’t fail her the way you had been failed. 

Reluctantly you sat up, wiping away the tears as they slid down your cheeks. Fuck. What a shitty way to start off a Saturday — crying almost always caused you to suffer through a headache for the rest of the day.

Thanks Javier.

You frowned as your eyes flickered to the corner of the room, where Javier’s jeans had been tossed last night. They were still right there, untouched… alongside his boots. Huh. While he had plenty of pairs of extra pants stored in your dresser — he only had the one pair of boots.

Somehow you doubted he’d been in such a haste to leave that he’d fled your apartment barefoot.

You looked towards your bedroom door as you heard a shuffling sound on the other side of it, just before it was pushed open slowly and Javier popped his head through the crack. He looked surprised to see you awake, though that surprise quickly shifted into worry as he met your eyes. “Baby, have you been crying?”

“No.” You lied, wiping at your cheeks. 

“Hey…” Javier said gently as he climbed into bed with you. He reached out and took your hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

You shook your head as you looked away from him, your eyes fixed on the window. “I feel like a fucking idiot.” You admitted, squeezing his hands tightly, before you pulled your hands from his grasp. “Oh my God.” You covered your face as you brought your knees towards your chest as tears started to fall anew. 

Javier hesitated at first. You couldn’t blame him for being confused. When else had he had to deal with a hormonal pregnant woman? “Baby. Baby.” He reached out, running his hand over your back before he moved to sit behind you, pulling you back against his chest. 

You turned, tucking your head under his chin as you let him hold you. “I hate crying.” You complained, sniffling as you wiped away your tears as they slid down your cheeks. “I hate it.” 

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying?” He questioned, playing his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your neck. 

“It’s stupid.” You admitted. “So fucking stupid.” 

“I bet it isn’t,” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You sighed heavily, your voice wavering as you answered him. “I thought you left.” 

“What?” You felt the way he stiffened beneath you and it made your heart ache. 

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” You started, chewing on your bottom. “I immediately jumped to conclusions and assumed you left.”

“Baby, why would you think that?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You shoved him lightly in the chest, pulling back to meet his eyes. 

“All these tears are because you thought I left?” He questioned, arching a brow as he regarded you. 

“I told you it was stupid.” You pulled yourself out of his hold, trying to move away from him. “Let go, I need to pee.” 

Javier’s arms went slack around you, letting you crawl out of the bed and away from him. You ducked out the bedroom door, heading across the hall to the bathroom. 

You did need to pee, but in reality, you just wanted to escape from him. Just for a little while. 

At first, you’d thought the sleepless nights, nausea, and the constant need to pee would be the worst part of pregnancy, but in reality it was the tidal wave of emotions that constantly plagued you. Honestly, the men at work were lucky you hadn’t turned them in eunuchs over the slightest inconvenience. 

Fresh tears started falling again as you sat on the toilet. You hadn’t fully addressed just how much you were afraid of him leaving you. Sure, you’d said as much to him (maybe not in so many words) but the fear was real and ever-present. You didn’t need him, but you wanted him. You desperately wanted him to stay. 

And you still hadn’t even told him that you loved him. Those three little words still lived somewhere deep inside of you, too precious to let loose until you were positive he wasn’t going to break your heart. 

You hadn’t bothered to lock the door in your haste, which meant there was nothing preventing Javier from barrelling straight into the bathroom with you.

“Javier! Get out.” You hissed, grabbing the spare roll of toilet paper and chucking it at him. “We are not at this level yet.” 

“Baby, I held your hair up while you puked up a day’s worth of food three nights ago. You sitting on the toilet isn’t going to sour a goddamn thing.” Javier picked up the roll of toilet paper, sitting it on the sink as he knelt down beside you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.” 

You rolled your eyes, scoffing quietly as you stared down at the floor in front of you. “Don’t apologize, Javi. You’re allowed to get out of bed,” You grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped at the tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’m just being fucking emotional.” 

He reached out and gave your knee a squeeze, “Look, I don’t know much about pregnancy, but I think it’s pretty normal to be emotional, baby. Don’t beat yourself over this.” 

You clenched your eyes closed for a moment, before you finally focused your gaze on him. “I just hate how quickly I jumped to the conclusion, Javi. I didn’t even consider that you might’ve been—”

“Making breakfast for you?” Javier leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your knee, before he peeled himself up off the floor. “I thought I���d do something nice and make breakfast for you. So you didn’t have to get out of bed yet.”

You sniffled, wiping away another tear as it slid down your cheek. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed, Javi.” You mumbled, chewing on your bottom lip as you felt it tremble. “Now I feel like an even bigger ass.” 

“Baby.” He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m not gonna stand here and let you beat yourself up about this.” You stared at him for a long moment, before he clicked his tongue against his teeth and jerked his head towards the door. “Come on. Your tea’s gonna be cold by the time we get back out there.”

You stood up and flushed the toilet, before moving to wash your hands off at the sink. “Are you going to keep watching me?” You questioned, turning to look at him.

“Yeah. I don’t trust you not to lock the door after I walk out of here.” He gave you a pointed look. “C’mere, baby.” Javier held his arms out for you. “I’m not going to judge you for how you react. Ever.”

You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “I just hated how I felt.” You admitted, looking up at him as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised you, giving your hips a squeeze as they settled there. “I promise you, you’re stuck with me.” 

“I know.” You sighed, rubbing at the spot between your brows. “Did you say you made tea?”

“You got a headache?”

“Of my own making, unfortunately.” You grumbled. “Maybe a little caffeine from the tea will help it.” 

“I made your favorite,” Javier told you with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the spot your fingers had just soothed. He pressed a second kiss to your nose and then a third to your lips. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

You shook your head slowly. 

“Good.” He cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I think we deserve a day spent in bed.” 

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I think it might do us both some good.” 

You reached down and interlaced your fingers with his, squeezing three times. How had you let yourself be so easily convinced that he was going to leave you? The way he looked at you — the way he’d always looked at you — was not the look of a man who had plans to abandon you. That sort of adoration was a once in a lifetime thing.

And you’d both been willing to wait for it. 

[cracksofmtdoom]

It was a cool Friday night and Jay was on the hunt. His prey for the evening was a beautiful tranny with a big thick cock. His porn tastes had centered in on shemales lately and he had to get a taste of the real thing. Watching them, with the utterly stunning feminine bodies, dressed in fine lingerie got his cock at attention. What really made him lose it was the sight of the ones with huge, beautiful dicks. There was the bonus.

He was looking for his first to spend the night with, sucking and being sucked and fucking and being fucked. He had done his homework and knew the local hangout for the areas trans crowd. It was a cozy little spot, off the main drag. Nondescript and friendly.

Jay had taken a seat at the far corner of the bar with a clear view of everyone who came in. He had been there for about 40 minutes when she came sauntering in.

She was tall, at least six feet on flat ground but much more so in the spike heels she was wearing. She had deep red hair, done up in a fancy twist. Just a hint of makeup to highlight her incredible features.

She was wearing a tight, short purple mini dress, her ample cleavage showing over the top. Her long legs covered in black fishnet stockings with the aforementioned heels below. She walked with an air of confidence, kissing hellos to her acquaintances as she made her way towards the bar.

His cock was immediately jumping in his jeans and was rock hard and throbbing by the time she pulled up next to him.

He hungrily looked her up and down, studying all the lines of her sexy body. She watched him eying her and smiled. “I’ve never seen you here before stranger, what brings you in tonight?” she asked. Looking deep into her eyes, he replied “You. You and I have a date tonight at my hotel and we’re going to have a hell of a time I think.” “I’m Jay” he said. “Well hello there Jay, I’m Kendra. It’s a pleasure to meet you. So you want to fuck huh?” She asked. “I love to fuck and be fucked” she whispered in his ear. “And I have a very large dick”. Jay grinned and said “That’s exactly what I was hoping for”. “What are you drinking tonight Kendra?” “I will have a double bourbon neat” she answered.

His mind was filled with wonder at this perfect moment in time. Him being a fan of high quality bourbon himself, things seemed to be going almost perfectly. He flagged the bartender and ordered two double Blantons neat.

“Tell me, do you prefer to too or bottom Kendra?” “ I want to experience both with you tonight. I want to suck that big fat cock of yours and make you need to bury it deep in my ass, I want you to fuck me however you want and then I want you to drain your balls deep into my ass, fill me up with your cum.”

“Well well Mr man, thats a rather ambitious plan. I must say I’m very interested. Is this going to be your first time?” She asked. “It most certainly is my dear and you should feel thrilled that I have chosen you to do the one. I knew you were it as soon as you walked through the door. You radiated something irresistible and I had to get you”. She glanced down at the front of his jeans and smiled at the straining outline of his hard on trying desperately to burst forth from them. “It certainly appears you have a really nice cock of your own Jay and I’m getting really horny at the thought of it. I love to get fucked hard, have my little asspussy slammed and ruined. I want to suck that cock nice and clean from my ass over and over. And I also want to feel you swell up and erupt inside me, blasting the depths of my ass with you hot cum.”

They continued to chat as they sipped their drinks, getting more and more comfortable with each other and also getting hornier and hornier.

“I’m ready when you are stud” she said. “What hotel are you in”. I have a room at the Hyatt just around the corner. Let’s go”. He tossed a twenty and a ten on the bar, grabbed her hand and led her outside. It was maybe two blocks to the hotel and they walked quickly. They entered the lobby unable to keep their hands off of each other and once the elevator door closed, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, his hands roaming all over her, her nice firm tits, her amazing round ass and of course the monster cock in her red panties.

They managed to stay clothed and got off on the sixth floor. The room was three doors down the hall. They slipped in and immediately began to tear each other’s clothes off. In no time they stood naked in front of each other, each of their dicks standing proudly and straining to get to the other. “Slow down now sweetie, there’s no rush. We should take a nice hot shower, let me scrub you down and get to know your body” Kendra said as she took him by the hand and led him to the bathroom. She started the shower and turned it hot. Meanwhile Jay sat on the edge of the tub and could no longer wait. He took hold of her swollen member and slowly stroked it before lowering his head and opening wide. He continued to lower himself onto her prick, feeling how much it filled his mouth. He began to move his tongue slowly, licking the underside of her shaft. He had been practicing taking a cock down this throat but the real one he was now engaged with was bigger than anything he’d tried. He was barely more than half way down when it began to hit his gag reflex. He breathed slowly and relaxed his throat, soon able to keep going. Slowly and methodically he took more and more of her dick until he at last had the entire length down his throat and her balls were against his chin.

“That’s goddamned impressive, most first timers choke way before that. Now suck my fucking dick and show me what you have boy”. She barked. She sidestepped into the shower, he swung himself over the edge and followed. The water was hot and the spray was heavy. He knelt in front of her and began to slowly suck her prick, taking time to get to know it intimately. He swirled his tongue around the fat purple head, flicking her cum slit with the tip of his tongue. He leaned forward and took her bald into his mouth next, filling it completely. He sucked her balls for a few minutes, then she told him to stand. They stood face to face, she had a couple of inches on him. The hot water cascaded down their naked forms.

She took a bottle of body wash and slowly and sensually lathered him head to toe. She passed the wash to Jay and he returned the favor, covering her in rich foam. He slid his hands all over her slippery body, massaging her tits, her back and shoulders, and then reaching around and running his hands up and down her giant dick, gliding effortlessly the full length of it. His own dick was so hard it was almost painful, and he pressed himself tightly against her back, letting his member slide between the smooth cheeks of her ass

Kendra reached back and took his dick in her hand, guiding it up to her hungry fuckhole. “You ready to fuck me Jay, do you want to bury this beautiful dick deep in my ass?” He needed no words, he grabbed her hips and thrust forward.

Her asshole stretched and opened up for his cock and it slid effortlessly into her. And then he was there. Balls deep in this unbelievably hot creature. Her asshole snugged up around his prick and he began to fuck her. “Ooooh baby, your cock is sooo hard and so big. Fuck me, fuck me so good” she whispered looking back at him. “Spread your ass wide. I want to watch this dick go in and out of that hole”

She bent at the waist, reached back and pulled the cheeks of her ass as wide as they would go. “Oh fuck yes, that is such a beautiful site” Jay said as he gazed down on his raging hard on thrusting in and out of her. She used her incredible muscle control to squeeze his cock while he fucked her and it was driving him wild.

“I want you face down ass up” he said as he withdrew from her hole. As the fat head of his dick popped free, she was left gaped wide and he smiled. Kendra knelt down on the floor of the shower spread her thighs wide, lay her face down and again pulled her as wide open.

Jay stood behind her still admiring her gape. He squatted down and slid back into her. He leaned forward, hands on knees and fucked her hard and fast. His balls slapped against hers on each thrust in. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Hammer my cunt, im going to cum!!!” She moaned. He was hitting her p spot with each thrust and cum was oozing from her cock.

“Oh my god, fuck me fuck me fuck me. Fuck my slut hole and fill me up with your cum baby!!” He was close and he fucked her even harder. She moaned loudly as her cock twitched and thick streams of cum shot from her. This sealed the deal and jammed his prick as far up her ass as possible and exploded in her. He came and came and came.

Finally totally spent, he took his cock out of her ass and watched as his huge load began dripping from her thoroughly stretched out asshole

[phobiadeficient]

Holy fuck i just read that ask by "hiatus13", the one with sniper pinning snipes to a wall, and holy fucken shit im in need of a second part, if u wanna of course. Jfc when i learn how to draw better, imma try and draw on of these shortfics cuz holy damn (of course if you'll let me and with full credit, totally okay if u dont want me to) ❤️❤️❤️❤️🐑

dude fuckin Bet. dude do it like Bet

(no warnings)

-

They ended up in Sniper’s camper since they were halfway there, and Scout found himself kneeling on a hard, thinly-carpeted floor, watching maybe too intently as Sniper muddled with his belt.

As an afterthought, Sniper reached over and grabbed a pillow and tossed it to the ground, and Scout situated it beneath his knees after a moment’s thought. Then Sniper’s pants were open and being shuffled down his legs, and the front of his shirt rucked up a bit, and Scout was finding out that apparently Sniper didn’t wear underwear even with his uniform which he found ridiculously attractive for reasons he couldn’t even totally articulate.

Sniper had himself in hand, working in idle pumps as Scout got a look at him. And, y’know, locker rooms and all, he’d caught glimpses of pretty much all of the guys by then, but it was way different looking at him straight on and when he was hard and looking right back at Scout.

“Never sucked a bloke off, then?” he asked, as if for clarification.

“Nah, no,” Scout replied, still eyeing him.

Sniper exhaled, halfway to a sigh. “Right. Just...” He thought for a second. “Just keep your teeth out of the way, use your tongue, and try not to choke yourself, awright?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Scout said, and licked his lips, and leaned in.

Sniper moved his hand away and let Scout take over, taking it by the base and angling up towards his mouth.

And it wasn’t, like, rocket science, he’d gotten sucked off a few times before and knew what he liked and what worked, but he still hesitated for another second or two before he carefully, cautiously, leaned in to lick the head.

Sniper shifted as if relaxing, and Scout considered some stuff. First of all, the nightmare scenario was off the table, the taste wasn’t bad. And of course it wasn’t, Sniper was one of his cleaner teammates, but he was still relieved. Second of all, he wasn’t going to look like a total idiot, because up close like this he knew he’d actually be able to get this a pretty good way into his mouth.

But he pulled out a move he’d had done to him a few times before and warmed up into it, starting with licking and kinda-sloppy kissing, just kinda getting a feel for what he was doing. And he was apparently doing a pretty good job, because Sniper was relaxing further, and at one point made this gravelly kind of humming noise that made Scout feel real damn pleased with himself, a real ego boost that most people would probably argue he didn’t need.

But at the very least, it was enough to convince Scout to lean in that much further and take him into his mouth. And that got another hum, and Scout had to concentrate hard on keeping his teeth out of the way.

And he didn’t know what it was, maybe it was just like, the idea of what he was doing, but there was something about this that made him feel superheated, antsy, maybe even desperate, and he just kinda did what he was pretty sure was the thing he was supposed to do, slowly starting to bob his head, and when that almost immediately got monotonous he started to suck in counterpoint.

And he was like, 90% sure that every time he’d ever had this done to him, they were much less messy about it. He hoped the little noises weren’t too distracting. But it was either make sure he kept his teeth out of the way or not make a bunch of noise, he couldn’t focus on both. He was pretty sure he was doing at least an okay job, though, because Sniper was starting to make more of those raspy growly hums, maybe more like groans, and in his periphery he could see that Sniper was grabbing onto the sheets on either side of his hips pretty hard.

At some point Scout remembered some other stuff people would do to him—he cupped Sniper’s balls and rolled them in his hand, and that got a whole moan, and he tried to take him deeper into his mouth until he felt his gag reflex starting to argue about it, and then he felt Sniper’s hand on the back of his head down near his neck and—

And he realized, okay, maybe he could get into this. Or maybe he already was. Because he was starting to get pretty hard, actually. Like, distractingly hard.

And he dipped too far at one point and gagged outright, and pulled up to cough, his eyes watering, and fuck, okay, that was that lesson learned. And Sniper exhaled hard, his grip going a little tight, but rather than complaining he managed a throaty sort of “You awright?”

Scout waved him off, still coughing a little, and god his face had to be red, he felt like he was burning up. “I’m fine, just... fuck.” He cleared his throat hard, blinking a few times. “Sorry.”

“Getting off on this, then?” Sniper asked, and Scout glanced back up, and Sniper was looking down at Scout’s lap, and, okay, so he was caught. He flushed further. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know. It happens.”

“Yeah? What, happens when you’re blowin’ dudes too?” Scout asked, trying to look a little less flustered.

“Sometimes,” Sniper shrugged, and Scout started coughing again. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try and act like a prude when you’re currently on your bloody knees.”

“Just—just shut up,” Scout mumbled, and leaned in to set back to work with a vengeance. Sniper did indeed shut up.

Scout didn’t want to choke again, so he gripped around what all he couldn’t get in his mouth, trying to remember to pump and squeeze between bobbing his head and sucking. And Sniper’s hand migrated a little ways up his head to card into his hair, and it was all the easier to work Sniper up into where he was making actual noise.

“Close,” Sniper warned, voice a little breathless in a way that made Scout absolutely throb. “If you’re—gonna pull off—“

Scout didn’t, mostly because he was curious. And a few moments later Sniper swore hard, and then he had a mouthful of—

Okay, so every porn he’d ever seen was made by liars. The taste wasn’t good. He wasn’t gonna like, throw up, but definitely gross. He fumbled off to one side for the trash can and spat into it as quick as he could, twice for good measure.

“Not bad,” Sniper said, well out of breath. When Scout looked back over, he was settling his pants back into place. “Bit sloppy, but being new and all, I’ll give it a pass.”

“Hell yeah,” Scout said, unreasonably proud of himself, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Sniper moved to pull him up to sit on his lap, and Scout went along with it with little hesitation. Then Sniper was popping his pants open and Scout was leaning in with greater enthusiasm.

“Sure seems like you enjoyed yourself,” Sniper teased, and Scout flushed. “See that being something you’d, er... want to learn more of?”

“Yeah!” Scout chirped, and then Sniper’s hand was in his pants, and he jolted a little. “F-fuck, uh, I mean y-you don’t have to do that you already kinda—got me off once—“

“What if I want to?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow at him, and Scout stuttered about that for a little longer until Sniper apparently got impatient and turned them to lay Scout down on the bed, pulling his pants out of the way enough to—

“Holyfuckingshit!” Scout yipped as Sniper bent down and swallowed down like half of him in one go, settling into a damn near expert rhythm within a few seconds, and fuck, okay, he already got Sniper off so it really shouldn’t matter but he was pretty sure if he came within a minute and a half of Sniper starting to suck him off he would literally have to go into witness protection he would be so embarrassed but on the other hand Sniper was sucking his dick and that was an idea so hot he could never even jack off about it.

So he curled his hands into fists on either side of his own head where he was gripping at the sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut hard and he choked down noises and he held out for as long as he could. And it felt like a marathon, like pushing a few extra miles at a dead sprint, the effort making him jittery and half-convinced he was going to pull a muscle somewhere, but he held out as long as he could force himself to before he finished, swearing a blue streak the whole way down.

His head was fuzzy and fizzy when he came back down to earth again, and his tongue felt heavy, and Sniper was lying beside him, smoking and blowing out the window on the exhale. And he was feeling so goddamn pleased with himself that he found himself vocalizing the first coherent sentence he could get his head around.

“Hey,” he said. “Maybe next time you walk me through what like, actual fucking is like.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him. “...It’d be you on bottom for the first time of that,” he said slowly.

“Think I’ll be a natural at that too?” Scout teased.

“...Maybe,” Sniper said, looking slightly more amused at his antics than before, and Scout relaxed, sank back down to try and get his brain together, and maybe eventually to get his pants back up.

[kys0g0i]

Analogical parents au and their son Roman runs away and they go find him and end up finding him and telling him how much they love him and it’s fluffy :D

Oh hecc yeah

Search

Pairing(s)?: romantic Analogical

Started: October 16th, 2019, 7:11 AM

Finished: October 22nd, 2019, 9:22 PM

Word Count: 1,286 words

Warnings: Brief panic attack, crying

— — —

“...Logan?” Virgil called out nervously, searching all-around one of their son’s, Roman’s, room. He was slowly starting to borderline on panicking, as he searched even in places he knew he wouldn’t be. “...Logan!” He heard footsteps before his love appeared in the doorway with a questioning look. “Yes, starlight?”

“Where’s Roman?”

“What?”

“Where’s Roman?!”

“I thought you took him with you when you took Remus to his class?”

“No! I let him stay here because he wanted to write!”

Virgil’s breathing began to speed up and grow heavy, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in the world so that he could breathe properly. The walls seemed to close in on him as possibilities swarmed his head. Had Roman been kidnapped? He was only ten years old. Was he hiding somewhere and they just couldn’t find him? Was he stuck somewhere, in pain? What if he couldn’t call out to them for help? Was he missing something important and it would lead to them never seeing Roman and it would be all his fault and Logan would de-

“-ight.” He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t he couldn’t he would only make things worse for them and- “-irge.” Logan would hate him, even more, what if this was all sick a joke what if he was never meant to be a dad and he failed horribly and he was going to be arrested for-

“Virgil.”

Virgil jumped in shock at the feeling of a pair of cold hands cupping his face. It was at that moment we noticed his ragged and uneven breathing, as well as his shaking and thick tears rolling down from his green and hazel eyes. “Breathe for me, please.” He calmly said, gently wiping a tear from his face with his thumb. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I promise you that. You trust me, do you not?” Virgil nodded shakily, going through his breathing exercise with him the best he could. Once Logan was sure he could handle it on his own, he slowly let go. He was used to going through this breathing exercise with him. Virgil was well aware he was a very anxious person, and that it could be a pain to have to calm him down, but it comforted him to know that Logan would take the time to ground him, no matter how long it might take.

“Star, I think you might want to read this.” He said after a long time of him going through this breathing and finally getting it under control. Virgil looked to his love with curious yet worried eyes. As he handed him a messily folded piece of paper, he carefully unfolded it, reading the message inside.

‘I’m sorry Pop. I know I probably scared Pappy real bad. But I cant stay longer. im just a trouble to you guys. Bye, I love you. -Roman’

Virgil looked back up at Logan when he finished, hurt. “Does he really think this...?” He asked as if scared for his answer. He sighed, gently taking his husband’s hand and squeezing it. “I’m afraid that I do believe that he does.” He replied. “Do you know where Roman could possibly have gone? I know you get to spend a lot more personal time with him then I get to.” The shorter male hesitated, taking a deep breath, before nodding. “...Yeah... I... I think so...He shouldn’t be too far away if I’m right.”

•

By now, the sun was starting to set, giving way to a reddish-orange sky instead of a blue one. But if you weren’t looking close enough, you couldn’t see it too well because of all the dark clouds in the sky. Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if it started raining soon, which just made him want to find his son sooner so he could get him home before the rain came down. They hadn’t been driving for too long, only five minutes, to get to a small park with a playground on it. Technically, they didn’t need to drive to get there, but it was the fastest way to get there. The entire time, Virgil had been anxiously glancing all around him from out the windows, desperately trying to see if they were passing their son, but he saw nothing. It made him paranoid that he missed him somehow, but Logan convinced him the check the play park they usually went to first before going back to look for him that way again.

When they finally arrived, the park was dead, with none of the usual loud laugher or sound of running from playing tag from children. It was strange, Virgil would admit, but none of it matter to him at the moment. Right now, all he wanted was his baby back. And though Logan was keeping a calm demeanor, he could tell he wasn’t too far behind him in the worried or panicked department.

The black and purple-haired father hurried to get out of the car and ran towards the park so he could see the other half of it, and hopefully, his son. “Roman?!” Virgil called desperately as he ran, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a familiar brown-haired kid sitting on a swing with a red bag next to him. He turned back and looked at him with wide, giant green eyes. “Pappy?”

“Roman!” Virgil cried out in joy as he sprinted towards him, scooping up his child in his arms and hugging him tightly. Roman returned the snug hug, and it wasn’t long before Logan joined the hug too with tears in his hazel eyes. After a few long minutes, he placed Roman down before kneeling down on one leg to match his height so it would be easier to talk to him while looking him in the eye.

“Roman, why are you out here? You gave me and your Pop a heart attack! Why-“ Virgil cut himself off when he realized Roman had huge tears in his guilt-filled green eyes, looking down to try and hide it. He softened in sympathy. “Roman..-“ “I-I just... just feel like t-things would be better if... if I w-wasn’t in the family..” He murmured, wiping his eyes with his palms. “You guys are... are always focused o-on R-Rem or... or working and I never get to show you my drawings or writings or have you guys read to me ever since you started working or Rem got diagnosed... but I-I felt bad for feeling that w-way so... so I didn’t say anything... I thought you guys wouldn’t love me anymore... But as days when on I convinced myself you two don’t anymore... So I... I l-left...”

Before Virgil could reply, Logan did for him, bending down as well and resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Roman. We may work a lot, and have to spend more of the free time we do get with your brother until he gets confident and used to doing new things, but that doesn’t mean I,” He glanced towards his husband, taking his hand with his free one. “We, don’t love you anymore. Your Pappy and I would die for you, Roman. We love you very, very much.” Virgil nodded with a small smile, pulling Roman in for another hug as he started crying, which he didn’t object to. The two dads held their son close, not saying a word for a long, long time, even when the cold rain started to drizzle down from the sky. And it was okay. They didn’t need words to know that at that moment, they all understood the love they had for one another.

[superextrafamily]

boy (run like you’re bulletproof)

Being the fathers of a reckless vigilante weren't always sunshine and roses. Steve finds that out when Peter comes home from patrol with a bullet still in his stomach.

Steve was having a nightmare.

The dream took a 360 spin because he was fine one moment. He was laying in bed with Tony safe in his arms. Their legs were intertwined together underneath the blankets. Steve’s breathing was matched up with Tony as they laid together. Dodger was pressed against his back, sleeping soundly.

Then the dream went wrong.

He heard his bedroom door open followed by the sound of slow and uneven footsteps across their carpet. Steve didn’t move, assuming maybe it was one of the pets just roaming the tower. However, a few seconds later, there was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

He didn’t want to leave this perfect dream he had going with Tony, though. So, he snuggled up closer to his husband trying to ignore the the shaking as it continued.

Then there was a pained whimper, “Papa, please.”

As a father, Steve had a switch that when flipped, he was sent straight into his protective overdrive and nothing could stop him from keeping Peter safe. So hearing his kid in pain had him shooting up in bed. “FRIDAY, lights on. Now.”

The lights flickered on and Steve looked over his shoulder, getting a good view of Peter. He was in his Spider-Man suit sans the mask and that was how Steve knew this had to be a dream. Peter wasn’t patrolling tonight; Steve and Tony had seen him go to bed a few hours earlier.

“Peter-- what’s going on?”

Peter pulled his hand back and pressed it against his stomach, his face twisting in pain. “I need your help.”

That was when Steve looked at the situation with a closer eye. Peter was standing there, sweat covering his face. He looked so...real in front of him. And the metallic smell of blood filled his nostrils. It was so livid.

Peter said his name again when he didn’t speak, “Pops, I’m sorry--.”

It all crashed down at once.

“This is real.”

Petr nodded his head, just barely.

“Fuck,” Steve said, turning to Tony and shook him roughly. “Tony, get up.”

Tony immediately stirred; neither of them could afford to be heavy sleepers. “Wha’s wrong?” He slurred tiredly.

“Peter’s hurt.”

Tony had one of the father switches too, so at those words he was up and blinking furiously in an attempt to chase away his drowsiness. “What happened?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

Steve’s eyes went down to Peter’s stomach. His hands were encrusted with blood. He looked back up at Peter pointedly. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

“Sorry doesn’t help us now, Peter.” He sat up so he could see Peter better. “Move your hands.”

Peter only hesitated a moment before he lifted his hands and showed Steve the wound he was hiding...except, it was still hiding. “Peter, please tell me that’s not what I think is.”

“I--uh…” Peter flustered.

“Peter Benjamin, please tell me you didn’t use your webs to close a wound.”

“I panicked!” Peter said, his voice cracking.

Steve huffed in frustration. “Peter, for such an intelligent kid, sometimes you surprise me with the shit you do.”

Tony’s voice was softer but still just as upset as Steve’s. “Pete, the chemicals in your webs really shouldn’t be near an open wound and your blood.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, his breathing picking up. “I didn’t know what to do--.”

Steve felt bad for getting so upset when Peter was obviously terrified. “Well, you came to us. That’s good. Now we can figure out what to do next.”

Peter just nodded.

“Here, baby, come lay down.”

With the help of Steve, Peter got into bed and laid down. “It’s a gunshot wound,” he said, refusing to move his gaze from directly at the ceiling. “The bullet is still in there.”

Steve cursed under his breath. That had to hurt like hell-- his kid was shot. “Well, we’re gonna have to clean the wound and get it out.”

“I could call Helen, but she’s not on call, so I can’t tell when she’ll get here.”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah. She’s not on call because we weren’t expecting any battle wounds at this time of the night.”

Peter mumbled out another apology as Steve sat down next to him on the bed, inspecting the webbed mess on his stomach. He turned to Tony and said, “Tony, can you get whatever stuff he uses to make this stuff dissolve? And I’ll need the suture kit we’ve got in medbay, a towel, and your suit-- bring your suit.”

Tony paused and repeated, “My suit?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah...we’re gonna need it.”

Tony nodded and then hurried out of the room, promising to be back as soon as possible.

Steve turned his attention back to Peter where Dodger was licking his face, trying to keep him calm. When Peter saw his eyes on him, he started to apologize, but Steve stopped him, “We’ll worry about that later. Right now I just want to get this fixed and get you safe.”

“What...what do you have to do?”

Steve wasn’t going to lie to the kid. He was going through it and deserved to understand. “I’m gonna have to pull the bullet out, sterilize the wound, and then stitch it up.”

“It’s gonna hurt?” Peter asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, it’s gonna hurt,” he told him, unable to look at him when he did so.

“...okay. Guess I deserve it.”

Steve looked down at him and when Peter was staring up at him wide eyes, it shook him just how young this kid was. He was going out there, risking his life alongside adults. A kid should never go through something like this. “You don’t, so don’t go saying that.”

Peter shut his eyes, but didn’t argue it. In that moment, Tony came back into the room in a suit and with his arms full. He placed everything by Steve on the bed and then asked, “What do you need me to do, love?”

“Let him hold you hand-- suit on.” Steve started sifting through the pile and found a capped vial that looked like the solvent to get rid of the webbing. “He’s gonna need to squeeze. And this,” Steve said tossing the towel to Peter. “Bite down on that to spare those teeth of yours.”

Peter hesitated, but stuck the towel between his teeth and bit down. Tony sat by his side, and took Peter’s hand in his.

“Squeeze as hard as you need, Petey,” Tony whispered softly.

Peter nodded, wide eyes staring up at him and away from where Steve was working.

“Ready?” Steve asked, waiting for Peter’s nod before pouring the solvent on his webbing. It disappeared slowly until his suit was showing and then blood was starting to seep out again. He tapped the spider on Peter’s chest so the suit loosened on him and he could pull it down to his waist so he had a clear view of the wound. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna have to go in and find the bullet to pull it out.” He carefully used the tweezers to stick inside the small hole, searching for the bullet. Peter grunted and began to breathe heavy through his nose. Tony did his best to keep him calm.

Steve had done this before during the war when they were desperate. But never once did the pained sounds he caused in trying to fix this hurt as much as Peter’s did. After a twist of his tweezers, Peter let out a sudden cry and his hand not being held by Tony shot to his stomach to try and shove Steve’s hand away. “Tony, you have to hold both. He can’t move and try to get in the way.”

“Right, right. Sorry,” Tony said, leaning forward to hold both of Peter’s hands. Steve didn’t like needing the Iron Man suit to hold Peter back, but it was better than bringing him into the medbay and tying im down. Steve had that done to him before and he didn’t like it-- there was no reason to put Peter through it if they could help it.

Once Tony had Peter’s arms restrained and he wasn’t squirming any longer, Steve continued. Peter’s muffled grunts of pain started back up, but Steve ignored them. If he didn’t, he’d stop. He had to find the bullet.

And thankfully, not long after, his tweezers hit into something hard and he knew it was it.

“I found it, Pete,” Steve said, looking at his face for the first time since he started. “I’m gonna pull it out now. Almost there, bud.”

Peter nodded, sweating profusely with his curls plastered to his forehead.

“You’re doing so good,” Steve told him before turning back to the wound. He opened the tweezers and Peter let out a deep whine of pain. Steve hated that he was hurting him. But he had to...so he grabbed ahold of the bullet and started pulling it slowly out, trying to block out the sounds of agony Peter was making.

He finally had the bullet out and dropped it in the lid of the suture kit with the tweezers. It was all covered in blood. There was so much blood. Especially now seeping from his wound without the bullet to slow the flow.

“I have to clean it now,” Steve said, picking up the alcohol. “This...this is gonna hurt more. Tony make sure he doesn’t move too much. On 3. 1...2--.” He didn’t wait for 3 before he poured the alcohol into the wound to clean it out. Immediately, Peter shouted, lifting himself off the mattress in pain.

Steve made the mistake of looking up at him. His face was twisted in agony as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and trailed down the side of his temples. The towel fell from his mout as he cried out in pain and Tony replaced it for him.

When Tony spoke, it sounded like he was holding back his own tears. “It’s okay, baby. Pops is almost done. You’re doing so well.”

There was no way Peter heard him through his grunts and labored breathing.

Steve couldn’t afford to look at Peter anymore. There was no way he’d get this done if he recognized the pain he was putting Peter through. Even if it was just to help him. He picked up the needle and the thread so he could start stitching it up. Peter made a few noises of pain, but it wasn’t as bad as the alcohol. He finished it up and didn’t give a warning before pouring a little more alcohol over the wound just to clean it again. At least, this time, the wound wasn’t open so it didn’t hurt him as much.

When he finally finished it, he sat back. Now that the job was done, it started to really sink in what he’d done. “Tony, can you just clean it up and wrap it up? I’ve gotta take care of this stuff.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he was grabbing the small box and hurrying out of the room into the ensuite bathroom. He shut the door behind him and dropped the box on the sink.

He leaned over and stared down at his bloody hands, waiting underneath the faucet. He couldn’t move to turn the water on. He was frozen. That was Peter’s blood. His son. This wasn’t some soldier in World War II, this was his boy. He was crying and in pain because of him.

It was a sound that would easily haunt his dreams for weeks to come.

“Don’t freak out,” he whispered to his reflection. “They need you. You need to stay cool. You’re fine. Peter’s the one that got shot-- oh God,” Steve said, feeling his stomach churn. “Peter was shot.”

He couldn’t breathe. It was like he was a kid again with his crappy lungs. His hands were shaking-- his blood covered hands.

He turned on the faucet, making sure it was all the way to the hot side. He pumped the hand soap into his palm until it was pouring over into the sink. The hot water burned his hands as he scrubbed his skin furiously under the stream. He needed the blood gone-- now.

It reminded him too much of being out on the battlefield, using his hands to try and stanch the flow of blood from gruesome wounds. Some he saved, most he lost. He remembered every single moment like that and some nights replayed the memories more vivid than others.

But, he never imagined Peter would be someone he’d have to treat.

He didn’t want this to be ingrained in his mind. He wanted it gone.

He scrubbed harder and harder, but his hands were still red.

The red wasn’t going away-- why wasn’t it going away?

Get off. Get off! It needed to get--.

“Steve! Stop it! You’re going to scrub your skin off-- this water is burning. Are you crazy?” There were hands grabbing his and pulling them from the water.

Steve tried to fight it. “I’ve gotta clean the blood-- I can’t--.”

He was turned around and came face to face with his husband. Tony was holding his wrists gently. “You got it off, baby. Your hands are clean.”

But they weren't. His hands were never clean. They were always covered in blood. Now...Peter’s blood too.

He must have either said the words out loud or shook his head because Tony was answering him a moment later, “No. They’re clean. Peter’s okay.”

Steve continued to stare down at his shaking hands. Tony took his hands in his.

“He’s okay. He’s in our bed, almost sleeping. He’s okay.”

Steve looked at Tony’s hands and there was no blood on his...there was no more blood. He stared intently down at his skin, waiting for that to change. But it never did. All he saw was Tony’s hands holding his.

“Peter’s okay?” Steve whispered, not able to meet Tony’s eyes yet.

“Yeah. I came in here to see if you were okay. You’ve been in here for a while.”

Steve swallowed past the lump in his throat. “He was crying. I was hurting him.”

Tony moved his hand away and Steve was afraid that Tony smartened up and realized he hurt their boy and he wasn’t going to want to hold him anymore. But the hand returned under his chin and lifted him up to stare at him. “You saved him. He’s okay because of you.”

Steve shook his head.

Tony sighed and took his hand again, tugging him towards the door. “Come on. Come see.”

Hesitantly, Steve let himself be pulled along into the bedroom again. He was afraid to look at the bed; he didn’t want to see Peter bleeding out.

“He’s okay. Look.”

Holding his breath, Steve glanced to the bed and saw Peter...sleeping. His stomach was wrapped up and he had on a pair of Tony’s sweatpants. He looked okay…he looked safe. Steve let the breath out and took a shaky step closer.

“You stitched him up perfectly. He’s gonna be fine in a few days,” Tony said softly, putting an arm around Steve.

“He’s safe.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah. He’s safe-- tired too. Adrenaline left and he crashed. Not surprising, it is way past all our bedtimes. That means us too, love.”

“Yeah-- I can go sleep on the couch.”

“Steve, the bed is more than big enough. We’ve all shared before,” Tony said.

Did Peter even want to be near him? He made him shout in pain-- Steve never wanted to hurt him--.

“You’re thinking too much. Just...sit. Lay down. You’ll see.” Tony took his hand and pulled him into bed, next to Peter. Steve stayed rigid. “Baby, relax. It’s just Peter. Watch this.” Tony got into bed on the other side and shook Peter’s houlder gently.

Peter hummed in acknowledgment with his eyes still closed.

“Look who finally joined us.”

Turning his head to the side, Peter peeked an eye open and when he looked up at Steve, he smiled. With a tired flop of his arm, he reached up and grabbed Steve’s arm. “Come cuddle,” he mumbled.

Steve could feel the smug grin Tony was giving him as he laid down to get more comfortable. The minute he was settled, Peter moved in closer until he was snug against Steve’s side. Steve tried not to freak out-- this was normal. This was okay. He’d done this plenty of times before. Peter was okay. He was safe.

With a shaky hand, Steve lifted it to run through Peter’s sweaty hair. Peter melted at the touch, relaxing completely in Steve’s hold.

Tony came in close on his other side and said, “See? It’s gonna be okay. As long as he’s got us, he’s gonna be okay.”

But he couldn’t let him sleep just yet. He had to tell him. He shook his shoulder gently, careful not to move him too much. Peter opened an eye again. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for coming to us.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry if I seemed upset earlier-- I just don’t want you hurt. But, if you do get hurt, please keep coming to us. We can help you as long as you come to us and tell u what’s wrong. For any reason.”

Peter smiled, letting his eyes drift close again. “‘Course, Papa. You guys make it better every time.”

“We always will,” Steve promised, watching as Peter’s breathing evened out. He fell asleep with the smile still on his face and he looked so peaceful...Steve would dedicate the rest of his life to keeping that smile on his face.  

[cnc-hoebayb]

Deadass a dream i had with Richard hehejej

I literally spat out half of this so sloppily bc i wanted to capture the dream essence right after it happened, but like you get the idea.

And obvio i beefed it up a lil for story effect so that’s why it’s so detailed and cheesy in some parts (especially the end sorry skdk)

.

A pair of suited up body guards shut the doors and stand at attention behind you as everyone enters the giant store. The emptiness of a place this big feels a little uneasy but at the same time makes you feel so lavish and important.

The boys are already pairing up beside you, grabbing each other and friends before diving into which section of clothes they wanna start with. You smile and watch them almost run into the aisles, way too excited to be shopping than should be normal. The accessory display in the corner catches your eye and you wander over alone.

Sure, it was fine to shop and spend some alone time every so often, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t bad to feel a lil lonely either. The gold earrings in the glass container distract your thoughts and you gravitate in farther. A reflection bounced off the table and you see the faint outline of a figure behind you. Your mind eases suddenly and your heart swells. A pair of hands snake around your waist from behind and a stubbly chin presses into your neck.

“I missed you,” he whispers before laying a soft kiss on your shoulder. “Richard, we literally saw each other 2 seconds ago walking in here.” You play and he squeezes you into him tighter. “Yea but i missed you like this.”

PDA was never quite your scene, but having to maintain a relationship with him entirely in secret, it felt almost impossible. To have his arms around you like this, it gradually felt like a necessity. You lean into it, eating up every last bit and all the sensations of his love before it had to end.

“Whatcha lookin at,” he releases you and it feels empty, but his hand locks discreetly in yours at his side. “Just some jewelry, might have to cop some lavish shit while we here,” you wink and then point to a thick chain on another display. “This one actually reminded me of you, maybe I’ll get it for myself to pretend it’s yours.”

His hand guides you to follow and walk with him to a different section of the store. “You know i can just give you one of mine instead,” he says mindlessly while browsing the racks on his right. The thought gives you a sense of happiness but it’s soon overpowered by reality. “Babe you know we can’t do that,” you say defeated.

Richard stops everything to look back at you, eyes heavy and sad in an instant. “Soon,” is all he says, “te prometo.” You wanna hug him, fall into his body and let him tell you it’ll all be okay.

But a body zooms in around the corner and its back to acting. As if instinctively at this point, your hands pull from each other with swiftness, body language at a complete opposite, no trace of any sentiment between you. “Erick loco, why you running like that,” Richard laughs and struts over to him, giving you a little head nod as he walks away like nothing.

“Im trying to race Zabdiel, donde está él??” You hear them talking as you walk the other way. It was best not to hang around, otherwise you might get too comfortable and slip up, get too touchy or say something that blows your cover.

It wasnt the most ideal, but it was something that just needed time. Not that anyone or one of the boys would be mad, but bigger than that. Being part of the tour staff made it iffy. What if they had thought your new promotion was because of him? That you were getting special treatment and being paid basically to have fun and fuck around with the important people. And not to mention the fans. If this went public, there would be a riot of people accusing you of being fake or using him, everything you feared. It was too risky for the both of you. And you loved him so much, it felt like there was nothing better to do.

You fill your head with distractions and ride the escalator to the next floor, getting as far away as possible. The music was louder up here and it made it easier to get lost. At this point you weren’t even shopping, just wandering and clearing your mind, fingers brushing past fabric as you walked the length of every aisle. Something shuffles to your side and you know by those heavy steps, but you continue walking in a daze.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” Richard towers behind you, sliding his hands down your arms until they interlocked with his again, crossing them across your waist in a deep hug. You close your eyes for a second and let him wander along with you, his scent so intoxicating, overshadowing the sadness. “What’s on your mind, baby?” He senses your uneasiness and it makes you nervous.

“Nada, just thinking.” He doesn’t question any further, just keeps his hands on you, spinning you around to face him, planting kisses up and down your neck, making your cheeks blush immediately. “Stooopp,” you giggle, all sad thoughts already lost, overpowered by the happiness he always seemed to give you. “Richard Yashel Cama- NooO” you squeal as he lifts you off the ground, spinning you in a fast circle before dipping you towards the ground.

His smile beams as your noses brush together, him holding you so close to the ground and all the built up energy has your heart pounding. He holds you there, letting the tension build before leaning in ever so slightly to your lips..

“Richard, yo, you gotta come see this we-“ a voice yells from a distance and the perfect bubble of yours collapses. You don’t know what to do so Richard is the one to act quick. He drops you the rest of the way to the ground, your body hitting the tile with a soft smack. The look he gives is a tiny second of regret followed by yet another change of character.

It’s Chris this time to turn the corner, coming upon the scene of you on the ground, Richard hovering above you. “Whoaaa girl watch where you goin,” he improvs on spot, acting like you had just bumped into him or something. This is definitely the lowest you’ve felt. Literally and figuratively.

He reaches out a hand to help you and you get up quickly, fixing yourself before turning the opposite direction from the boys, them already going on their own way too. Richard looks back at you with a glum stare but you ignore it, not wanting to even look at him right now. Emotions buildup in every piece of your body and you desperately seek out anywhere to get out of this space.

His laugh still seems to echo in your ears the farther you walk away, it was too hard. You stop at the little glass balcony to observe everyone below on the first floor. You smile as you see Erick hiding in a rack of pants, Chris and Richard about to be his next victims. He looks up at you and does the “shh” gesture and you do it back to comply. It’s fun and lighthearted, but that heart wrenching feeling comes back when you see Richard.

Him and Chris scream and fall to the floor as Erick pops out, scaring them half to death with the easiest prank in the book. Erick looks up to you and does a thumbs up excitedly. You throw one up back and smile down, catching glimpse of Richard giving you a look from down there as well. The smile fades from your face immediately and you have to turn away, walking away from the ledge and off to somewhere he isn’t.

You find comfort in the shoes section, plopping down on one of the squishy chairs on the side of the aisle. Your head falls to your hands in your lap and it’s so annoying to feel like this. To feel like you’re so far away from someone who is actually your entire heart and world, like you can’t be with who you love because it’s wrong, but it’s not.

You take a deep breath in to calm down and when you look up, there he is. “Baby what’s wrong? Are you o-“ you cut him off mid sentence and start to walk away. “Not now Richard,” he follows close behind and grabs your hand, forcing you to turn around and face him. “Don’t touch me.” You yank out of his grip and tears form in your eyes.

“Heyheyhey, it’s just me, tell me what’s wrong.” He keeps his distance, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable, all he needs is you to open up. “I’m done, Richard. I’m just done.” You sniffle and wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

“Im done acting. I hate having to pretend this isn’t real because this is the realest thing I’ve ever felt. I’m done keeping secret touches and kisses,” you stop to lower your voice when you notice you had been almost yelling. “Because when i touch you i feel like i can’t let you go. And i hate myself for getting so lost in you so easily. Cause i know it has to end when someone walks in the room or when we step out of our little hiding spots.”

You can see the hurt in his eyes but it doesn’t stop the worlds coming out. “But i forgive you every time. No matter how much the separation part kills me. Even if it means ignoring me, fuck- even dropping me on the floor. Richard i forgive you every time because i love you so damn much, but now I’m so....”

He doesn’t give you time to finish. You didn’t know if you even could to be honest. And this is what you meant. Forgiving him the second he encloses you in his chest, shedding all pain and tears in a single embrace. His hand pets your hair as you let it out quietly in his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so so sorry,” he chants over and over until you pull apart, finally able to look him in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” You wipe your eyes and lift his chin from hanging disappointedly. “It’s no ones fault.” He plays with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly, something he did often when he was nervous or anxious. “But i still feel guilty, T/N you don’t deserve this.” His jaw tightens and you know he feels terrible.

“That’s why this ends now.” You feel sick for a split second before he finishes. “I saw the way you looked at me earlier and i couldn’t bear the idea of making you feel this way. So before i came up here to you I..” he stops and grabs your hands in his. “I told everyone the truth.”

Shock settles in and you wanna cry, laugh, scream, do anything to snap out of it. “Richard,” you start and he pulls something out of his pocket, a little black jewelry box. “I know this doesn’t make anything better, and i promise you I’ll make it all up to you somehow, but for now..”

You take the tiny package and pop it open. Eyes watering up yet again as you’re faced with the pretty gold earrings from earlier, paired beautifully with the daintiest gold ring you’ve ever seen. And the final piece, one of your favorite gold chains that Richard owned, must’ve had it on him close today. You’re able to crack a side smile and look up at his toothy goofy one in response.

“I thought that if we’re gonna be seen in public as a couple now, you might wanna be extra icy, flaunt it a lil bit.” He jokes and all pressure from before falls from your shoulders. His arms open, inviting you so sweetly and you can’t help but jump in.

“I love you, you know that?” He squeezes you and you feel it in his touch, his voice, in his everything. You kiss him in response and he knows you feel it too.

It’s almost a whole minute of his lips on yours until you feel some type of eyes on you from behind. You part in enough time to turn around and face the little creepers. “Bro seriously?” Richard whines and your cheeks flush red from embarrassment.

It’s Zabdi, Erick, Joel, and Chris with a very obvious phone up recording the whole scene, all of them choking up laughter. “I just wanted to see if you were serious.” Joel throws his hands up in defense.

“To be honest, i thought it’d be funny to record,” Erick confesses and looks over to Chris who replies “Yea, this is gonna look so good on Instagram.”

[dreamgirlbreezy]

CHAPTER 12

ROCKY

 “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes I do”

“Okay”

I pulled his pants and boxers down and grabbed his hard dick with one hand. I stroked him up and down a few times, while teasing him with my hot breath his dick is so big never seen one so big before I have to be a big girl can’t back out now. Finally when I sensed that he couldn't stand the torture, I wrapped my lips around his thick dick and teased his head with my tongue.

“Oh shit” he pumped his hips upward and grabbed a fist full of my hair.

After sucking and licking, he came. He pumped load after load of hot delicious cum into my mouth and I swallowed every last drop, savoring the taste left on my lips.

I gently sucked his dick as it went slightly limp. I climbed back up on top of him and kissed his lips as he tried to catch his breath after his intense orgasm. His breathing slowed and he sat up, forcing me to stand up in front of him. He pulled my pants and eye’d my panties before smiling up at me then he pulled my panties down and I stepped out of them, now standing completely naked before him. I noticed his dick begin to get hard again, just from looking at my curvaceous body. I dropped to my knees again and took his semi-hard dick into my mouth again. I sucked and then licked down to his balls, gently sucking first one, then the other into my mouth. I squeezed his balls with one hand and stroked his dick with the other.

After a few minutes of bliss he stopped me, feeling bad that only he was getting any pleasure. I assured him that just by giving him pleasure was making me feel orgasmic. But he refused to let me continue pleasuring him. He stood up, now almost completely hard again, and laid me down on the bed, so my legs were hanging off. He knelt between my legs and starting at my knee, he kissed up my thigh. When he reached my pussy, he gently licked my opening, tasting my hot, sweet wetness. Then he moved back down to my other knee and started kissing again. I moaned with desire when he reached my pussy again. He slipped a finger deep inside of me and I arched my back with pleasure.

“Oh baby that feels so damn good”

Holding my lips open with his fingers, he dove in with his tongue, fucking my hole with his tongue. I moaned and purred from the incredible pleasure I was experiencing. He licked up my slit until he found my clit, erect and very sensitive. He slid two fingers deep inside me as he licked and sucked at my clit. My orgasm was fast approaching when he abruptly stopped all contact with any part of my pussy. I moaned pitifully and thrust my hips up and out, hoping to rub against him.

“Calm down baby I got this” He grabbed my hips to hold me still on the bed and I tried to get him to release me. Eventually I calmed down slightly and he was able to release my hips.

I pouted on the bed until I felt something hard press against my opening. I reached down and grabbed his enormous, throbbing dick and slid it up and down my slit, lubricating him and giving myself pleasure at the same time. He soon took over, and guided his dick back to my hole. I spread my legs and he gently pressed forward, allowing just his head to pop into my pussy. I moaned with pleasure as I felt him begin to stretch my hot pussy. I spread my legs wider, encouraging him to push deeper into me. However, he stood still with just his head in my pussy.

“Please Donnie fuck me harder I need you” I moaned pitifully, he still stayed in place until I was almost crying with desire. He finally pressed a little deeper, releasing a low moan from me. I arched my back and his dick slid a little deeper into me.

He then pulled all the way out and I opened my eyes and stared straight into his eyes. He could see the pain, the desire in my eyes and guided his dick back into my pussy. He pressed deeper and deeper into me until he was completely buried in my pussy. I moaned softly and savored the feeling of being filled by his amazing dick. He began pull out again and I was so afraid that he would pull all the way out that I quickly wrapped my legs around him, forcing him back into my pussy. He laughed softly, seeing my desperation, and he finally gave in.

“Please I need you Donnie”

“I know baby I’m giving it to you, I’m giving it all to you”

He started out slow, with long deliberate strokes in and out of my pussy. He quickly developed a rhythm that kept me moaning with pleasure. Soon I was crying out as felt my orgasm coming fast. I kept my legs wrapped around him, afraid that he might try to deprive me of another orgasm. But he wasn't that cruel, as he felt me getting closer, he fucked me faster and harder, bringing me to the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. I cried out as I climaxed and he just fucked me harder and faster. As I came down from my sexual high, I slowed him and pulled away so he popped out of my pussy.

“No more you playing its my turn lay down”

“Okay if you say so meany”

I climbed on top of him and straddled him. I guided his dick back to my pussy, and then slowly eased myself onto him. He moaned when I had finally buried his dick as deep in my hot pussy as possible. He grabbed my hips and helped me ride his dick up and down, up and down. I placed my hands over his and guided them up to my breasts. He cupped my breasts and gently rubbed my nipples again as I rode his enormous dick. I could feel my climax building again and I started to moan louder and louder as I got closer. I cried out again as I experienced another amazing orgasm.

“OH SHIT BABY”

“Ride me baby you feel so good” As my pussy gripped his dick, he let loose, releasing all of his sweet cum into my hot pussy. I could feel it as he pumped his cum into me and his dick throbbed inside of me.

I collapsed on top of him, completely spent from the effort and the incredible orgasm. His now flaccid dick slipped out of me and he gently rolled me off of him and we cuddled as we both slipped into sleep.

When I finally woke up I was laying on Donnie’s chest with the cover over us, I didn’t wanna wake him up but I really had to use the bathroom so I rolled over to get out of the bed when his arm came around me pulling me back.

“Where you going?”

“To the bathroom”

“Hurry up don’t be gone too long”

“Okay” I got out the bed putting on his shirt and went right to the bathroom, I used it and washed my hands I was looking at myself in the mirror I felt different I felt loved, I cleaned up my face then opened the door I jump when I saw Donnie standing there.

“Donnie you scared me”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to I just miss you, you was gone too long”

“I was washing my hands”

“Well you should have washed it fast enough” I giggled he leaned down and kissed me from the corner of my eye to my lips. “I have to use the bathroom now”

“Oh okay” I moved out and he went in closing the door I went and got back in the bed and laid down I don’t know how long I laid there but I did doze back off I know this cause Donnie woke me up. “Huh”

“Come into the bathroom with me”

“Okay what’s wrong” I got out the bed and went with him into the bathroom, where is was set up nicely the tub was fill with bubbles and candles was lit, I smiled and turned to Donnie who was smiling at me.

“Let me help you undress again” he pulled his shirt off of me and helped me in the tub then he dropped his pants and got in behind me, lean back on to him I felt him rub my shoulders and kiss my neck.

“This is nice real nice”

“I was hoping you liked it love” he wrapped his arms around me and kissed my hair.

“I do this is nice I love you”

“I love you more”

“Im a happy woman”

“You are so beautiful

To me

You are so beautiful

To me

Can't you see

You're everything I hoped for

You're everything I need

You are so beautiful

To me

You are so wonderful

To me

You are so wonderful

To me

Can't you see

You're everything I hoped for

You're everything I need

You are so wonderful

To me

You are so beautiful

To me

You are so beautiful

To me

Can't you see

You're everything I hoped for

You're everything I need

You are so beautiful

To me” he sang softly as he rubbed my arms softly.

[tomhollandwritings]

single ~ t.h.

synopsis: the reader and tom have a complicated history, but no matter what happens they always seem to find their way back to one another. 

word count: 2.4k+

based on the request: tom holland one with the song single by the neighbourhood?? like where ur younger than him? 💞💞 i love ur writings so much!!

a/n: i literally had a full draft for this and then started again from scratch bc i was so unsatisfied w it. im actually still so unsatisfied w this one too, it’s kind of jumbled and all over the place but i hope you enjoy anyways. (oh btw i fucking LOVE THIS SONG and i love the nbhd, literally my fav band so thank u sm for requesting xoxox)

listen to the song here if you’d like!

masterlist

The hustle and bustle your cozy house party had created around you left a warm feeling of contentedness and accomplishment in the bottom of your stomach. It had been your friend Sara’s idea to throw a small party on the quiet Friday night, using the celebration of the first day of spring as her excuse. After prodding at you all week, you had finally agreed to let her use your small London apartment as her hosting place. Despite the fact that you were itching with annoyance because of the amount of people that had shown up was extremely far off from your friend’s estimate of guests. The place was full, not so much that it was stuffy, but people were still slipping in the door every few minutes with a bottle of wine or flowers to signify spring’s soft beginnings.

“You will never believe who just walked in.” Sara’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts as she came walking into the kitchen and you looked up, still swirling your wine around in the glass absentmindedly. You look at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. The answer she gave was something you had never expected. “Tom Holland.” She exclaimed. Her voice was hushed, as though she didn't want him to hear her, as she put down yet another cheap bottle of chardonnay onto your counter.

It almost felt as your heart had stopped for a moment as you processed her words. You’d known Tom for a while, and the two of you had a somewhat tumultuous past. To explain your history to anyone felt pointless, so everyone in your life had no one idea that the two of you had ever been involved. Your history was so complex that you didn’t have the energy to explain why you knew the Spiderman superstar.

Your immediate reaction was anger, the knowledge that Tom had shown up at your small apartment knowing full well what the consequences of that action were.

“Tom Holland… like the Spiderman guy?” You asked, trying your best to play dumb.

“Yes,” Sara whacked you in the arm lightly. “he’s so good looking.”

You nodded slightly, taking another gulp of your wine.

“You should go say hi.” She hinted at you, pouring herself another drink.

“What for?” You scoffed, failing miserably to hide your disdain.

“Because you’re the hostess.” Sara scolded. “Don’t be rude.”

You sighed loudly before downing the rest of your wine.

“Fine.”

-

You stepped into the crowded living room to see what appeared to be a sort of mob forming near your front door. Stretching up onto your tiptoes, you still could barely make out the familiar face of the boy, despite even wearing heels. You began to push your way through the crowd, huffing quietly before clearing your throat and doing your best to play nice hostess.

“Hi,” you said cheerily, just sweet enough to sound real but fake enough to know you were pissed. “welcome, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

Tom looked over at you in surprise, his eyes widening as he shamelessly scanned your body.

“Y/N,” he said. “hi.”

The crowd around Tom began to disperse and you reached out as if to shake his hand. He grabbed onto yours gently and you dragged him out of your apartment and into the hallway in one swift movement before shutting the door gently behind you.

“Y/N…”

“What the fuck, Tom,” You interrupted harshly, pulling your hand away from his. “are you fucking serious right now?”

“I had to see you.” He admits, wincing at your anger.

“What for?” You asked incredulously.

“You know what.” He replies, his demeanour softening.

“I’m having a party.” Was all you said as you took in his soft expression, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling back up inside of you. 

He was wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt with a blazer over it, his signature silver necklaces hanging down over his shirt. His hair looked disheveled, different from the slicked back style you’d grown used to since he’d been away on a press tour. You could feel his scent lingering around you and the familiarity was enough to make you cry.

“I know, but…”

“You left.” You said. “You left me. You have no right to just show up at my apartment.”

“I know.” He repeated. “I’m sorry.”

I don't know if we should be alone together

I still got a crush, that's obvious

If nobody's around, what's stopping us?

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes momentarily to drink in his presence. You weren’t sure if there was even a need for Tom to apologize at all, or if you should apologize. All you really knew was that you missed him. You had missed him so much it was unbearable. You opened your eyes again, now stinging with tears.

“I have to get back inside.” You said quietly.

“Y/N,” he murmured, reaching out to run his warm fingers down your arm.

“Tom, thank you for the apology but…” He watched you with sad eyes. “I have to go inside, okay? Can we talk about this later?”

Tom’s expression relaxed slightly at your hopeful words, nodding eagerly.

“Sure. Okay.”

You nodded again, squeezing his arm quickly before turning around and slipping back into your apartment, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

Despite the drama the party continued, and people loved Tom. He was sitting on the arm of your couch, a glass of whiskey in one hand and people surrounding him as he told silly stories about things that had happened to him on his press tour, during filming, in his daily life.

You did your best to ignore the fact that he was there, making yourself busy by speaking with a few friends at the entrance to your kitchen. You could feel Tom’s eyes on you occasionally as you spoke with your friends, and it took everything in you not to glance back over at him.

I don't think that we should be around each other

When you're in the room, you get my eyes

You open your mouth, I'm hypnotized

Tom couldn’t push your voice out of the corner of his mind, despite all the people surrounding him and speaking. He kept glancing over at you, nodding occasionally to keep your guests engaged as he watched you talk.

You threw your head back laughing, a glass of what he assumed was your favourite red wine in your left hand. His heart ached at the familiar sound, remembering when he used to make you laugh like that. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. To say you looked beautiful was an understatement. Your outfit was so simple, a white t-shirt tucked lazily into a jean skirt that he recognized as one he had bought you the year before. You had a loose cardigan draped over your body and were wearing tights and a pair of adorable little kitten heels that made him smile. 

He could still hear the voices speaking around him and he was suddenly wildly aware of the condensation from his drink stinging his palm with its coldness as he held onto it tighter, returning himself to his conversation. 

-

Despite your somewhat distracting job of hosting a growing house party, you were physically unable to get Tom out of the corner of your eye. No matter where in the room you moved, you always felt the need to keep him in your sight and keep his voice in your range of hearing. You could hear girls laughing around him at minuscule things he said, most not even jokes, and smiled to yourself at Tom’s probable distaste towards their desperation. 

You glanced up at him to find his eyes already burning into you, and your chest sizzled with excitement. He threw you a small wink, using his amazing way of making you feel like the only person he cared to see in the entire world to his advantage. 

You felt as though you were staring at him with literal hearts popping out of your eyes and twirling around your head like a cartoon. Tom was picking up on this, a small smile gracing his handsome face as he stared at you. 

You blinked, feeling your face flush as you realized how silly you must look. He chuckled softly to himself, causing you to smile against your will, looking down into your wine glass. Tom felt himself puff up unintentionally, proud of himself for getting a smile out of you for what felt like the first time in years.

  I can make you laugh until you cry

You know you got all my attention

You know you got all mine

By the time 1 o’clock rolled around, people were slowly but surely filing their way out of your place and leaving half full glasses of liquor in different places around your apartment. 

Even Sara had left, and you began to collect the endless amount of garbage and paper plates with half eaten grapes and cheese slices on them while stifling a yawn. 

“Need some help?” His familiar voice rang out as he came following you through the hallway, picking up pieces of trash and empty glasses that you had missed along the way. You felt unbelievably excited that he had stayed, having expected him to leave a few hours before. 

As you threw your collection into the garbage in the kitchen, Tom came in the doorway holding an impressive amount of glasses.

 “Jesus, Tom,” You let out a small laugh, walking over to take a few of the fragile glasses out of his hands. Your fingers brushed and his fingertips lingered on yours as his eyes scanned your face. “impressive.” You added softly. 

“I’ve always been good with my hands,” he said cheekily. “you knew that.” 

You looked over at him with wide eyes, feeling your face on fire. “Tom!” You hissed, a smirk painted on his face. 

“Sorry,” he laughed. “you walked into that one.” 

You sighed in defeat, carefully putting the glasses down in the sink to be dealt with later before turning around to face him and leaning against the counter, arms crossed. 

“Y/N…” He started softly. 

At some point during the night he had slipped his blazer off and his lean arms were sun kissed, muscles seeming to bulge every time he moved. You were watching him, almost drooling. “I was going to…” He looked up and saw your face, mouth slightly open. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course.” You respond quickly, swallowing hard. He steps closer to you, watching you with curiosity. 

“Are you sure?” He didn’t believe you. You nod fervently again, wishing your cheeks and chest weren't burning so obviously. 

Tom reached out slowly and you watch him, breathing hard. He pressed his cool fingers against your warm cheek and you relished in the feeling of it. 

“I’ve missed you.” You murmur. “So much, Tom.”

“I’ve missed you so much more.” He says, stroking your hot cheek with his thumb tenderly. You were breathing hard, hot air catching in your throat as Tom watched you. 

“What were you going to say?” You asked quietly. 

“I was just going to say how sorry I am.” He replies, his voice barely above a whisper. You found yourself subconsciously pressing your cheek into his palm. “I know I shouldn’t have left things the way I did, I just… I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“I know.” You said quietly. 

As you looked at the boy in front of you, the one you’d been so infatuated with for so long, it was as though everything was forgiven, as if nothing had happened at all. 

All you could think, all you could bring yourself to think was that you felt so happy that he was in front of you again and you never wanted him to go. 

Before you could help yourself you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you forcefully, clinging to him. Tom responded immediately, his arms enveloping you tightly and large hands running slowly down your back. 

"Baby," I can't help but call her that

Even though I shouldn't say it

She was my baby girlI might never get her back

But I don't mind being patient, yeah

“Baby,” he whispered, lips moving against the skin of your neck where his face was pressed. The warmth of the familiar nickname mixed with his whiskey-tinted breath mingled deliciously on your skin. 

“Yes?” You delicately traced the growing hairs along the nap of his neck, twirling them between your fingers. 

“I’d wait forever for you.” He breathed. You felt your heart swell. 

“You don’t have to wait at all.” Your voice was hushed now, heavy with the threat of tears. 

You could feel the problems you shared melting away, pooling at your feet. His hot tears burned on your neck, singeing your skin, and you pulled him impossibly closer to you. 

“M’in love with you.” Tom mumbled, sniffling before he pulled back slightly to look at you. 

The heat from your cheeks seem to have transferred to his, his face now dotted with redness and streaked with tears. You reached up with both hands to wipe the tears away gently with your thumbs. 

“I’m so in love with you.” You said finally as his eyes scanned your face desperately. They were twinkling, and a grin was growing on his face as he ran his hands down to your hips, squeezing them. He leaned in, giving you the gentlest and most intimate kiss you’d ever had, and it made it feel as though your whole body was on fire. 

“You have no idea,” he murmured in between soft and fervent kisses pressed to your lips, “I’ve waited to hear you say that to me.” 

His hands were tangled in your hair and you giggled softly against his lips, running your hands down his torso, feeling his lean figure as he pushed closer to you.

He kissed you once more and you let out a soft noise of disappointment as he pulled away, pressing his hands against the counter on either side of you.

“We have to finish cleaning the kitchen, remember?” He teased quietly, pinching the skin of your waist gently. You squealed and grabbed his hand tightly. 

“Quit it,” you said softly, his touch causing you to shiver. He laughed softly. “Besides,” you said as he ran his hands around to the small of your back, pulling you against him and kissing you again as you began walking him backwards towards your bedroom. “the kitchen can wait.”