#please look at the close ups under cut so you can see my panicked rake brush strokes

[aetherprism]

another shot at learning how to draw transformers with my fav: STARSCREAM !!!! :DDDD !!!

(that last one is a screenshot bc the file size is kinda big… whoopsie :,3)

[quoththe-ravenn]

So Much For A Merry Christmas

This is a M!Bailey x AFAB!Reader, so I'm sorry to all my gay x gn readers. I just couldn't make it work without explicitly describing the parts. ;-;

But here's a (belated) Christmas fic for my beloved (derogatory) caretaker.

TW (can I still use that??) for n*ncon, possibly d*bcon, b*ndage, brief blood mention, and uhhhh just Bailey. I think that's it? Please let me know if there's anything else to add.

Edit: TW NTR , I'm still not entirely sure I understand what that is but i apologize for not properly tagging!

“I’m not so sure about this, Alice,” you say as she ties the last knot around your wrist. She gives you a sardonic look.

“Are you seriously going to say that now? After I just spent all this time tying you up?”

You press your lips together, trying to hold in the slightly unhinged laughter bubbling in your chest. Okay, so you may be panicking a little, but who wouldn’t? “I… Can see your point.”

You had been struggling all month with what to get Robin for Christmas, and you had stated as much to Alice. After telling her what Robin did for you last year, (blushing profusely the entire time), she helped you come up with something equally as good.

So here you are in your room at the orphanage, arms tied at the elbows behind your back, wrists bound together, legs spread, thighs and ankles strapped. You wonder how he’ll react, and you hope he likes it.

“Okay! Time for the pièces de résistance.” You gulp when she pulls out the ball gag; this is way out of your comfort zone with sex. You hear her tut and catch her eye. “Don’t be afraid. This is the most romantic way to show how much trust you have in him. Now, open up.”

You have no choice but to comply; the silicone is uncomfortable, but not painful. You can feel the saliva in your mouth already starting to build. Alice gives you a warm smile, eyes shining as they rake over your naked body. You try to shift, the action proving difficult by the ropes.

You startle when she kisses your hair. A soft fabric cuts off your view from the room, the blindfold a last minute idea to increase the intensity of the situation. “You look great, he’s going to love it. I’ve got to go now, good luck!”

You grunt, the ball gag in your way of forming a proper response. The door opens and closes, leaving you alone to your thoughts. With your sense of sight taken away, everything seems much louder; your breathing, the furnace rumbling in the corner, each footstep outside of your door.

The latter makes your heart race. Anyone of those could be Robin, visiting your room at your behest via a note on his bed.

When your door does finally squeak open, you begin to shake. Nerves, excitement, fear? Who knows. All you’re aware of is the unbearable silence surrounding you both.

Then he moves closer, door closing and locking behind him. Thank you, thank you so much Robin, you think, entirely forgetting about the fact that anyone could walk in on you two.

You jump when his cold hand connects with your stomach, just under your belly button. Your breathing becomes ragged, his fingertips gliding up your sternum, circling featherlight over first your left, then your right nipple. Your back arches at that, a moan finding its way from your mouth.

He continues like that, lightly brushing your nipples, giving them just enough attention to make them stand on edge, but not enough to give you the relief you desire. A groan of frustration leaves you, making you squirm desperately. You have to admit you’re surprised with his restraint. Usually he can’t keep his hands off of you when he’s turned on.

The bed underneath you dips, the warmth of his breath caressing your shoulder as he leans in. His cheek touches yours and you freeze, stubble scratching you slightly. “Expecting someone, treasure?”

Your breathing stops completely, face heating in embarrassment and horror at Bailey’s words. You squirm harder, trying desperately to cover yourself from his prying eyes. Why hadn’t you and Alice thought of a way to get out??

He chuckles, fingers making their way down until he cups your sex. You gasp, hips bucking forward involuntarily. “So eager already. Did you want me to find you here, tied up like this?” He pinches your clit, rolling the bud in between his skilled fingers. A noise you could never describe escapes you. You don’t even remember to respond that no, you absolutely did not want Bailey to see you like this ever.

He continues shifting between lightly brushing and pinching your sensitive spot, lips connecting with your neck to plant open mouthed kisses. He bites you at the same time he slides a finger in; the sensation is heady, pleasure and pain mixing like a tornado in your groin.

“Fuck, treasure, you’re so wet for me already.” Another finger joins the first, drawing a groan from the both of you. “And so, so tight. Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before?”

A whimper fills the air, not a confirmation, but not a denial either. That’s fine, Bailey doesn’t need to know. All that matters is how good you’ll feel on his dick when he shoves it into you.

He thrusts his fingers into you slowly, gently preparing you for him. Your mind spins, unable to connect the mean, rough caretaker who has been demanding money from you for years with this man in front of you, touching you gently, almost worshiping.

The whispered praises aren’t doing you any favors either, sending each rational thought you have hurtling into the void. He curls his fingers, and at the same time you feel him kiss your temple. It’s too much, sends you crashing into your orgasm. Your body spasms, the inability to move properly adding to the overwhelming sensation.

You realize you had started to scream as you came down, the sound only muffled by the item invading your mouth. Your breathing is ragged, heart pounding in your ears. Everything touching your skin makes you uncomfortable. You’re overstimulated, you know. You’ve never orgasmed like that before.

Bailey slowly pushes you to your back, your shoulders straining at the awkward position. You whine, knowing what comes next but not sure whether you want it or not. You’re shaking, the room too cold all of a sudden. Bailey pushes your hair behind your ear, shushing you.

“Relax, treasure. It’ll all be over soon enough.” His hands grasp your waist, lining himself up. He gives you no warning when he slams into you, hips connecting roughly with yours. You cry out, tears building at the corners of your eyes. His fingernails dig deeply into you, and you find yourself, briefly, shocked at how sharp they are.

He sets a brutal pace, giving no heed to your comfort with each connection of your bodies. You openly sob now, sure that your arms are about to be dislocated at any moment. You wish you could plead, beg, do anything to try and get him to stop.

You feel his hand grasp your throat, squeeze tight enough to make you see stars. You’re choking now, drool sliding from your mouth to pool under your neck. “You’re squeezing my dick so sweetly. Do you like this? Being treated roughly? Oh fuck, you do, don’t you? I felt you twitch, you dirty little whore.”

Stop, you think, wishing he could hear you. Each slide of his cock inside of you burns, a pleasant fire filling your veins, your lungs. You hate your body, hate how good this feels. And as you grow closer and closer to unconsciousness, so too does your orgasm.

His thumb circles your clit and it brings you to your end. A shrill shriek fills the room, your whole body tingles, spasming, fluttering around Bailey’s cock. The ropes dig painfully into your skin, becoming slick. Oh fuck, you hope you’re not bleeding. How would you ever explain that to Robin?

Tears begin anew as you think of your boyfriend. This is not how your Christmas was supposed to go, your caretaker roughly using your body to get off.

Bailey grunts above you, and his hips stutter. “You’re so good, such a good girl for me treasure. Taking daddy’s cock like this.”

You freeze, well as much as you can as another orgasm shakes through you. Did you really just come to Bailey calling himself ‘daddy’? What the fuck, what the fuck.

He notices too, a moan leaving his lips as he paints your insides white. He fucks you through his orgasm, finally slowing when it subsides. The two of you stay like that, panting, coming down from your highs.

You inhale sharply as he suddenly moves, drawing out of you with a squelch. It makes you sick. Bailey pulls you up, helping to untie your bonds. You pull your legs to your shoulders, arms wrapping around them in an attempt to recover any dignity you have, if there is any left after that.

He doesn’t touch your blindfold, but does help take off the ball gag. Still, neither of you speak, and he doesn’t force you to do anything but sit there.

You don’t want to see him, especially not like this. Not after what he had done to you. You can only nod when he says, “No one hears about this, ever,” and slams the door behind him when he leaves.

You fall to your side, staying in the fetal position on the bed. You can’t believe that just happened, can’t believe that you actually liked it. Self hatred floods you, a cold bucket of ice in your chest.

So much for a Merry Christmas.

[honeyhan-123]

No Body, No Crime

Summary: Sheriff Bodecker just has a few questions about your husbands disappearance that he’d like to go over with you. 

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, abuse of power, Lee is a sneaky devil, very brief (squint and you miss it) mention of an abusive household. 

Word Count: 2.7k

AN: No one asked for it, but I’ve finally written some Lee for y’all. Hope you enjoy! Also, a massive thank you to the awesome @lilithhellfire​ who beta’d this for me, I really appreciate it!

My Masterlist

When you heard the knock on your door you never thought it would be the devil coming to call. But there he stood in all his pudgy glory. Sheriff Lee Bodecker.

You had seen the Sheriff a fair bit in the last few weeks, ever since your husband Trey had skipped town but he had always been accompanied by some deputy or other, and he had never called so late at night. He must know something. 

Forgetting all formalities, you jumped right into the questioning. ‘So? What is it? What have you found?’ Your voice was panicked despite his call waking you up. 

‘You’re not even gonna invite me in darlin’?’ His deep drawl cut through you and you realised he was right. You probably didn’t want to have this conversation out on your front doorstep where any of your neighbours could overhear. You stepped back and opened the door wider. ‘Please come in Sheriff.’ 

‘Darlin, I think we’re past that point in our relationship. Just call me Lee.’ You supposed he was right, you had been spending a lot of time down at the department recently. Still, the way he mentioned your relationship and how he kept calling you darling sent a chill through you. You weren’t his darling. 

‘I don’t suppose I could get some coffee? Maybe even something sweet to eat too? I was up half the night last night and it looks like I’ll be up most of tonight too.’ His authoritative tone made it clear you didn’t really have a choice and so you left him in your little sitting room before flittering off to the kitchen. 

Your mind was a blur as you methodically went through the actions of lighting the stove and grinding the coffee beans. You let the coffee stew as you grabbed the tin of freshly made brownies. They had been meant for the church picnic tomorrow morning but you didn’t think letting Lee have one or two would make that much of a difference. 

You had a million questions and no answers. Why was the sheriff even here? What had he found? Or God forbid, had he found Trey? A shudder wrecked through you as you thought of the unthinkable only to be brought back by Lee’s hand on your shoulder.

‘You alright there darlin’? The coffee’s probably ready by now.’ You gulped and nodded jerkily as you stepped away from his lingering touch. 

‘Sugar and cream?’ Your voice was nowhere near as strong as you wanted it to be and you knew the sheriff had heard the difference. 

‘Plenty of both please.’ You doled out ample amounts into his cup and prepared your own as something to do, even though you already knew you couldn’t drink it. 

The couch groaned under Lee’s weight and he patted the seat next to him, calling you over. You teetered on the edge of the faded cushion and forced a smile as his arm rested along the back of the couch.

‘You know darlin’, there’s been somethin’ about this case that just hasn’t sat right with me ever since it first came across my desk.’

You took a minute to respond, unsure if he was baiting you or just thinking out loud. ‘Oh? What is it?’

‘Well you see, it’s a little hard to explain, but when you’ve been on the job as long as I have you start to notice things. Little things that by themselves don’t matter much but when you look at the big picture, well, it becomes a whole lot clearer.’ 

‘Little things? Like what?’ Your heart was pounding in your chest, your meager dinner of chicken fillet and veggies threatening to come back up.

‘You know, just the odd thing here and there. Like how in the week before your husband went missing you made sure to tell anyone who would listen you were workin’ that Saturday. Or how even though you were at the diner from lunch till close you didn’t take a break. Not once in ten hours were you anywhere where someone couldn’t see you. You wanted to make sure you had an airtight alibi so when your husband was finally reported missing, we wouldn’t pin it on you.’ 

You felt the blood rush down from your head and there was a lump in your throat. ‘Wh-what are you… I don’t understand.’ 

‘Oh no darlin’ I think you do. I know that you and I both know that we can look for weeks and weeks and we’ll never find Trey alive will we? How’d you do it huh? Bludgeon him in his sleep? Or did ya put somethin’ in his coffee?’

‘I didn’t…  I-I loved my husband. I didn’t do anything.’ You tried to stand from the couch but his arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back down against his body. 

‘C’mon darlin’ we both know that’s horse shit but I am feeling awfully generous right now.’ Confusion swept over you. What was he saying?

‘Generous?’ 

‘Yeah, very generous. I won’t turn you in but… well it is gonna cost you. Generosity doesn’t come free.’ His other hand brushed your dressing gown away from your thigh before resting on the bare skin just above your knee. 

Realisation dawned on you and you tried to shove his hand away. You weren’t about to trade one monster for another. ‘I didn’t do anything and if you had even a morsel of proof I would’ve heard about it by now. In a town this small news travels fast.’ 

Lee let out a dark chuckle that sent a shiver through you. ‘Do you seriously think I need real proof? I can fake anythin’ I want and at the end of the day who’s gonna believe you, some little waitress over me, the man they elected Sheriff? You’re doomed either way darlin’ so why don’t you do yourself a favour and take off that dressing gown and let me see that body of yours before I lose my patience.’ 

You were all too well aware of the Sheriff’s darker side to go against his wishes. With a shaky breath you stood up, glad to not have his hands on you anymore, no matter how temporary their absence was. Your legs threatened to buckle as you fumbled with the knot. The heavy cotton finally fell away from your shoulders and into a pile on the floor. 

‘C’mere darlin’. Let me see you.’ You settled yourself in between the sheriff’s legs and his hands quickly grasped your hips, bunching the satin nighty. ‘Well, isn’t that a little unexpected treat.’ He paused to admire you, his cerulean blue eyes raking up and down your body before he spoke again. ‘Take it off.’ 

You shut your eyes and grasped the edge of the satin, pulling it over your head in one swoop. ‘Oh yeah. That’s much better.’ His hands grasped your tits, groping the flesh greedily. An image of your husband flashed through your mind and you cursed his name. Even in death he was still screwing you over. 

Lee’s hand dipping down to the apex of your thighs had your eyes snapping wide open. Regret of not wearing panties to bed filled you as his fingers did too. They explored your walls, scissoring this way and that. They teased your slick from your unwilling body and you shuddered, disgusted at the effect he had on you. 

His thumb found your clit and started rubbing smooth circles around the little bud. Your knees began to shake as the squelch of your juices filled the room. Your arms involuntarily reached out to grasp his shoulders as he continued to toy with you. A devilish smirk came over him and he wetted his lips before attaching them to one of your pert nipples. 

A gasp fell from your lips as he suckled on the tender flesh in time with his thick fingers. Before you even had time to recognise it for what it was your orgasm washed over you. Your body shook as pleasure made its way through your veins and you could only just feel Lee’s arm circle around your waist holding you up. 

When you recovered, you watched as Lee withdrew his hand from you and held it up so you could see it glistening. ‘Look at that darlin’. This pussy already knows who it belongs to now don’t it?’ You bit back a snarky response as he licked his fingers clean, his eyes remaining on yours the entire time. 

‘Now c’mere. I didn’t come all the way over here just to get you off.’ His hands dipped down to where his belt was partially hidden by his overflowing stomach. He fumbled with the belt before pulling his pants and underpants down a couple inches. Just enough for his cock to pop out. 

You tried not to stare but it was hard not to. He was easily bigger than Trey’s pathetic excuse of one had been, plus this one was flushed, with little drops of cream oozing from the tip. 

‘Well c’mon darlin’ don’t just stare at it. I’m sure you know what to do.’ His arms stretched out along the back of the couch calling you forward.

‘No. I- I can’t. You can’t make me do this. Please don’t.’ You tried taking a step back only to be stopped by Lee’s darkening glare. 

‘I can make you do whatever the fuck I want.’ Lee spat at you, his glare turning positively hostile. ‘I’m in a pretty good mood right now so I’ll give you five seconds to get that cunt over here before I’ll show you my bad side. Five… Four…’ You blinked back your tears as you approached him, straddling one leg on either side of his thick thighs. ‘That’s a smart choice you just made darlin’.’ 

You refused to look at him as you gripped his aching cock and lined it up with your entrance. With one small sigh of resignation you sunk down onto him. The stretch was worse than you had thought and you could already tell you were going to be sore tomorrow. ‘Fuck, darlin’. God… this cunt… fuck me.’ Lee was already breathless as you began to ride him. His arms fell to your hips, pulling you in even closer. His soft belly rubbed against you with every lift of your hips and his shirt buttons which seemed to be clinging on for dear life scratched along your chest.

You weren’t afraid to let your fingernails dig into his shoulders. A sadistic part of you wanted to draw his blood as though that made up for what he was forcing you to do. You gritted your teeth as his lips found your nipples once more, leaving a scatter of love bites on your skin as he went. 

You tried to hold in your moans of pleasure as he brushed against your g-spot but a stuttering of your hips gave you away. ‘Oh you like that? Right there?’ Lee’s hips flexed up to meet yours, hitting his mark. 

You made sure to look into his eyes as you responded, ignoring the pleasure he was causing. ‘I don’t like any of this.’ Lee’s eyes narrowed at you and his jaw clenched. His hand briefly left your hip and you felt the rush of air before it landed on your ass with a smack. His other came up to clutch your chin roughly. 

‘Don’t you lie to me darlin’. I know you like this. I know you do. And do ya wanna know how I know?’ His hand squeezed its way between your bodies, coming to your clit. ‘I know because this little cunt is squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. It’s tryin to milk me dry because that’s what all you women want. You just want a man’s cum in ya. You just want to be owned. And don’t bother trying to deny it because your body can’t lie to me.’ He gave your jaw one last squeeze before settling his hand back on your hip and rocked your body against his. 

As much as his words had disgusted you, they had also turned you on and you could feel yourself getting impossibly close to the edge. Lee’s hand clawed at the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a dominating kiss. His tongue easily forced its way between your lips and he demonstrated his ownership over your body as you kissed him back. His kiss was harsh and needy, all teeth and tongue. You could barely breathe as you felt your toes curl. Your subsequent moans were swallowed by Lee and he planted his feet firmly to help thrust up into you. 

‘God, that pussy is just squeezing me dry. Fuck, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.’ His voice was husky as his lips found their way to your shoulder. You could feel him swell inside you, his body tensing against yours. 

You didn’t have time to tell him to pull out before he was yanking you as far down his shaft that he could. You could feel spurt after spurt of his warm seed fill your cunt as he let out a sinful moan. His lips found yours once more as his hips rocked slowly against yours, making sure you got every drop he had to give. 

When his hands at last disappeared from your body you opened your eyes. You were startled by how flushed he looked, his cheeks well passed being called ‘rosy’ and his breath was heavily laboured. He had a lazy smirk as he openly objectified your body, his arms once again resting along the back of the couch. His pink tongue swiping across his plump lips pulled you from your observation and you hastily stood up. 

You wanted this man out of your house now.

You had satisfied him and done what he had wanted. Surely he would leave you alone now. You dressed on shaking legs and made sure to tie your robe extra tight. Even though he had already seen you naked, you didn’t want him seeing anything ever again. 

You stood as far away from him as possible as he pulled his pants back up and popped his sheriff hat back on. His hand strayed to the tin of brownies you had pulled out earlier as he crossed the coffee table towards you and the door. You watched as he popped the entire thing into his mouth and a little groan came from his throat. 

‘Well, these are quite the treat aren’t they?’ You hated the smirk he sent your way but you nodded just the same. 

‘It’s a family recipe.’ 

‘I’m sure you’re excellent in the kitchen, though, I doubt you’re as good as you are in the sack.’ Your jaw clenched tightly and you ignored his last comment. 

‘My mother taught me a lot.’ Lee nodded as though in deep understanding and you opened the door, eager for him to leave your house forever. He stepped out onto your stoop and turned back to face you. 

‘Well, I sure do look forward to seeing everything else she taught you.’

‘What- What do you mean?’ Dread turned your blood to ice in your veins.

‘You didn’t think that this was a one time thing did ya? You committed first degree murder darlin’. You’re gonna have to pay up a lot more to get out of a charge like that.’

‘But- But you said it was the once.’

‘I said no such thing. It’s not my fault you didn’t ask for the terms. If you wanna remain a free woman, you’re gonna do what I say and continue letting me pay you night time visits ya hear? I’d hate for any damning evidence to come to light…’ Lee let his sentence hang in the air and you very nearly considered telling him he could go fuck off, but then you remembered the reason you were in this mess in the first place. Prison was only marginally better than an abusive household for the little bundle of cells inside you to grow. 

‘See ya soon darlin’.’ Lee racked his eyes down your body one last time before tipping his hat to you. You stood in the doorway, watching as he climbed into the cruiser and drove off down your street. 

You could do nothing but pray you hadn’t just traded one monster for an even worse one.

+

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Thanks for reading!

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. part 1

So this is the first full length story I have worked on in years. It will be different from all the snippets and one shots I have shared lately and will continue on in a multi-part series, spanning across Clone Wars and Rebels and into a bit of Legends Star Wars.

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and will deal with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory)

Rating: 18+ 

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them.

Part 1: Memories, Floating

You held tight to Rex, your grip on his blacks stretching out the material. He would never complain though. Cody came up from behind, hands on your hips as he gently kissed your shoulder.

"Cyare, it'll be okay. I'll be back before you know it. And then the war will be over and we'll go on a 'diplomatic mission to Alderaan'. All three of us." Even though his words were sweet, his arms pulled you tighter to him. 

"I can't help it, Rex. I keep having these dreams, these...visions. I'm so worried something bad is going to happen."

Rex breathed out his nose in a deep sigh and held you at arms length. Cody came around as well, standing in front of you, hands close to Rex's. Rex whispered your name, but you couldn't hear what he said afterwards.

Everything was muffled and starting to fade.

You panicked, trying to hold on for a few more moments. But everything was gone. Faded into nothingness, leaving you alone.

You shot up from your bed, covered in sweat. The little charms and baubles you had hanging from your makeshift bunk tinked and jingled as they hit your head. It was dark in your small ship, the blackness of space doing little for ambient light. A few, small, glowing spots littered around, giving an eerie feel to the silence.

 You groaned, leaning your arms across your knees, your small, threadbare blanket pooling in your lap.

It seemed like such a lifetime ago, that dream. A memory from before when everything was still normal, still happy.

Your brought a shaky hand to your face and wiped your brow. What was going on with you?  How many nights was it now? How many times did those faces haunt you? It didn't matter, they had to be dead. But it didn't stop your heart from hurting. They turned against you, but you couldn't stop that clenching in your chest, that feeling of emptiness clawing up your throat.

In your frustration, you wretched your small pillow from behind you and threw it across the hull, screaming and raking your fingers through your hair.

You were so tired of seeing their faces, of hearing their voices, of feeling their touch. You just wanted it to stop.

But you guessed this was your penance. This was the Force punishing you for breaking your most sacred code, for surviving when better Jedi had fallen, for walking away and becoming a bounty hunter. 

You leaned your head back; eyes closed as you felt your tears fall into your hairline. But they were gone. Your heart was ripped away. Your Master was gone too, on some back water planet, probably dead as well. Your sister was dead too, gone with your beloved. You hated to think he killed her. That your most beloved killed his vod'ika. And worst of all, your big brother was the most vile thing in the galaxy, hunting everyone down. Everything you knew or loved or were was buried under the Empire.

There was a beeping. A loud, irritating sound coming from the front of your ship. It cut through the silence of space and your thoughts like an angry rancor. You brought your head forward and let it loll onto your shoulder, staring at the red light that accompanied the trill sound. Someone was calling you. You thought about ignoring it, it could be someone looking to hire you, or Senator Organa checking up on you, or even Fett. You hate him the most. He looked just like them. He sounded like them. When he whispered your name at night...no. It was probably one of them and kark em. You hated them all. You hated how they used you, how they feigned their worry, how they looked at you, knowing you'd always keep their bed warm, even if you hated them.  

  But that light kept blinking and that sound kept beeping and soon you were out of your bed, grumbling into your chair and hitting your console.

"Whoever this is, you better have a good kriffing reason. And I swear to Maker if this is you Fett, I'm hanging up now."

"PRETTY LADY!" 

Hondo. That idiot pirate king now smuggler pushed his face into his receiver, the fish eye lense on his console warping him features in the blue light that was shown from yours.

You sighed and curled up into your chair, the collar of your old, faded, black shirt falling over your shoulder. The long necklace you always wore with two scored pieces of duriplast, fell from your shirt and got caught in the fabric.

You absent-mindedly played with it, the blue and gold colors flashing between your fingers. "What do you want Hondo?"

"Oh?! Is that how you treat your oldest friend? Pretty Lady, I am hurt. You have fired a bolt right into my heart. I am nothing but anguish as my last breath leaves my chest at your cruel words. I..."

"Hondo. It's late, I'm tired."

"No one ever appreciates me or my sweet words anymore." 

"Hondo." You cut him off of his grumbling, running a hand down your face. An act he didn't miss.

"Pretty Lady, when was the last time you ate a meal that wasn't a ration bar? Or when you slept for more than an hour?"

You looked away chewing on your cheek and breathing out your nose. 

"You know I worry about you. I made a promise to our dear Kenobi..."

"I know Hondo. I'm sorry for snapping."

"It's alright, Pretty Lady. But! I didn't just call you for pleasantries! I have a new lead! One I think you'll really love."

You perked up at that and sat up straighter in your chair. 

"Hondo, don't you mess with me."

"When have I ever messed with you?"

Your eyebrow raised up and you leveled him with a look.

"Okay okay, when have I ever messed with you when it comes to these matters?"

You looked over your shoulder at a door against your wall, before turning back to Hondo.

"What have you got?"

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

How's that for a welcome home part 1

Travis x Rook + Kells x Chase

Having exhausted every possible way to entertain himself, including the play through his boyfriend's extensive record collection; Rook let go of an over exaggerated groan and dropped onto the couch. "Yupp, I'm bored as fuck!" He was 'house sitting' while Travis was gone, it was a lot more quiet than usual as Alabama and Landon were staying with friends. Resorting to a last resort, Rook sent out an 'SOS' text to Kells.

* * *

Leaning back against the couch; Colson bit his lip as Chase's hand pressed against his dick, it may have been dark in the room as the three of them were watching a movie. "bab-" his breath shook when his boyfriend's fingers undid his zipper. "What are you doing?" Colson looked to the boy and raised an eyebrow.

"Horny..." Chase knew his boyfriend was still horny and found the idea of teasing him next to Rook kind of hot. "Daddyy" he whined into Colson's ear and grinned when the rapper looked over at Rook. "If you don't want me I'll go to..."

Colson bit back a moan when Chase's hand left his crotch. "You won't do..." he was cut off when Chase ran a hand over Rook's thigh. Looking at his boyfriend; he swallowed when Rook sucked in a breath.

Biting his lip as he felt Chase's hand on his thigh. Rook was touch starved and looked to Colson as if asking permission.

Finding Rook's reaction innocently attracted he chose to let Chase do whatever he was getting at. "By all means." Colson keened at the idea and looked at Chase.

Twisting slightly: Chase pulled Rook into a kiss and smiled as the drummer mimicked him. "Hey" he purred when Rook's hand grabbed his thigh. "Kiss me" Chase rolled his dick over Rook's thigh and purred.

Rook dragged chase onto his lap and looked up. Blue eyes searching his as he ran his hands over Chase's thighs. "I-" he gripped the boys cheek and kissed Chase, slowly and without care. "Travis is gonna kill me."

He looked up and moaned against Rook's lips, gasping as the drummers tongue swiped across his bottom lip. "He's not here to see, so don't worry about it." Chase let his lips part when Colson's hand rolled him forward, his dick against Rook's thigh.

* * *

Colson nudged Chase off Rook at one point and picked the drummer up. "Chase, c'mon" he headed for the bed room and grinned as Rook kissed his neck, moaning softly as the drummer sucked at his sweetspot. "Don't get to cozy with me, Chase started this."

He looked up when Colson dropped him on the bed. "Admit it, you've thought about me" Rook grinned as his friend came down with him, kissing him rather rough. "You know I know about it."

Grinding downwards; Colson grabbed Rook by the waist and kissed over the drummers shoulders. "Thought about fucking you but never acted on it." He flipped them over and grinned as Chase came up kissing him. "Hey angel."

"Do whatever but I wanna be the one to fuck him." Chase whispered as Colson's hand brushed his cheek. "Please" he'd on occasion thought about Rook when 'taking care' of himself and wasn't about to pass this up.

Rook ran a hand through Chase's hair and smiled as he looked up. "You wanna fuck me" he shifted against Colson and smiled as the blonde was hard. "What's that about? Humm?"

Chase nodded as Colson moaned. "Mmhmm" he licked his lips as Rook shifted so he was between Colson's legs.

Getting his pants off; Colson looked at Rook and grinned as his friend's hand wrapped around his dick. Moaning, he squirmed as the man pumped him painfully slow. "Fuuuck Rook"

"Words Chase" he hummed as Colson arched off the bed. "Mm gonna take care of Kells and you're gonna tell your boyfriend why you wanna fuck his best friend.," Rook leaned down, taking Colson into his mouth, lips wrapping around the man's cock.

Watching Rook's lips wrap around Colson's dick; Chase whimpered and shivered as Colson's hand gripped his thigh. "B-ecause he's..." he whined as Colson moved his hand upwards, wrapping it around his dick. "Fuck, daddy" Chase kissed him and pushed into Colson's hand.

"He's what baby?" Colson ran his thumb over Chase's dick and purred as the boy's hand gripped his shoulder. "You got to tell daddy" he grinned, moving his hand down again.

Going down, Rook sucked Colson into his mouth and moaned around his friends dick. Tongue running over the shaft as he looked up. Exhaling, he dipped his head and took Colson to the hilt as a hand held him in place.

Pulling Chase into a kiss, Colson bit at his boyfriend's lip and moaned loudly as Chase held Rook's head in place. "Mmm, look at you Rookie. Always did take my cock like good boy"

"Shiiit" Chase groaned as Rook looked at him, eyes watering and lips pulled taught around Colson as the blonde arched into Rook's throat. "Because he's fucking hot daddy" he grinned as Rook tried to push back.

Stopping Rook from pushing backwards; he pulled him and Chase's hand forward. "No, no, you stay on my dick." Colson pulled Rook's hair and pushed into the man's throat. "Good." He purred as Rook whined around the cock filling his mouth.

Rook blinked back stray tears as Colson and Chase held him in place. Arching upwards; he gagged as Colson thrust into his throat, cock taking up his throat as Chase other hand gripped the back of his neck.

Thrusting into Rook's mouth, Colson hissed as his bestfriend grabbed his waist. Letting him go, he grinned as Rook gasped for air, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

It had been a while since he let Colson use his throat like that so it came as a shock to his system when it was Colson keeping him in place after growing used to Travis's easy use of him. "He always finished before letting me go, don't worry about it"

Running his thumb over Rook's cheek; Chase purred as the drummer looked to him. Seeing the man at their mercy turned him on. Pumping Colson a couple times before pulling Rook back onto it; he palmed himself and smiled as his boyfriend nodded.

* * *

Colson had given the control back over to Chase at one point and suprised a chuckle as Rook let go of a whiny and shocked moan as Chase must have bit at his neck. "Should have warned you about that"

Rook glared upwards at Colson; biting his lip and locking his fingers in Chase's hair as the younger man licked over the mark he'd left. "Mmmm, goddd" his other hand gripping at Chase's shoulder as he was lifted up by Chase as the singer changed angle.

Rocking forward; Chase dipped down into a kiss. "He's used to being bit at this point" drawing a hand upwards, he pushed Rook's leg up with it. Eye teeth grazing soft skin as he felt the drummer tense around him. "Forget bot everyone's into it sometimes."

"Ohh shit! Fuck!" He gripped the sheets as Chase hit his prostate, rocking back onto him, Rook whined out as Colson came down kissing him. "For fucks sa-" Rook's breath hitched and he moaned into it. "Kells" he gripped Colson's hand.

Travis got in from his flight early and got home to hear Rook yelling at Kells. Figuring his boyfriend was arguing with Colson about who was drumming on a track, he figured he'd have to defuse the situation. "This shit again" Travis rolled his eyes, following Rook's voice.

Only half acknowledging Travis as he heard the drummer come in; Colson looked back up realizing and half grunted. "Oh shi-"

Travis raised an eyebrow, eyes falling on Chase and back to Colson before settling on his boyfriend. He was mostly surprised to see how Chase was easily able to manipulate how Rook moved.

"I can-" Rook bit back a staggered moan and pushed lightly at Chase's shoulders. "...f-uck, it's n-ot what it looks l-ike" he couldn't read Travis's expression and braced for the worst.

"No, no" he wasn't mad, shocked sure, but wasn't about to shut it down as it was clear his boyfriend was close to the edge. "Don't stop because of me baby" Travis looked back at Chase again and nodded. "Finish whatever you started."

Chase glanced up to Colson, questioning if he should. He was desperate to finish though as Rook's nails raked down his back.

Colson had blanked, eyes glued to Travis as the man made haste undoing his jean's. "Y-yeah, fi-finish" he mumbled out and blushed red as Rook looked to him.

"Oh for fucks sake Kells, if you want him to..." he hesitated and whimpered out a messy moan as Chase came into him. "...just ask him k-ells" Rook's eyes met Travis's as his boyfriend looked proud; grinning, he hummed out an "i love you."

"Mm, I know you do" Travis managed just moments before Colson was pulling him into a kiss. "So, how'd your boyfriend end up screwing mine?" He grinned as Chase let go of a breathy moan and looked up at them.

Colson savoured the kiss and moaned as Travis's arms locked around his neck. Not yet breaking it, he ran his arms around the older man's waist, pulling Travis in. "Was bored, Chase and I came over, one thing led to another, Chase kissed him, was more of an attempt to tease me" he was rambling "rook was touch starved..."

He shook he head and grinned as Rook yelled at Colson to shut up and stop panicking. "I figured he would be, I'm just happy it was you guys." Travis ran his fingers into Colson's messy hair and led a kiss as the blonde purred into it.

* * *

Rook and Chase dropped onto the couch like seat in the room, heads dipping as Colson was like putty under every touch of Travis's fingers. "Shit...you're good by the way." He pointed out as Chase spread out on the seat, the man's head now in his lap.

Relaxing as Rook's fingers ran through his hair; Chase bit his lip when Colson let his insecurities melt away as Travis didn't have to fight for control. "Mmm, you're a good fuck too" he grabbed Rook's hand, smiling as the drummer looked at him.

[imagine-the-fanfics]

Seized

Characters: Goro Majima x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, involuntary imprisonment, implied attempted rape

Inspiration: Request by Anon – “Uhh can I get a fic where the reader gets kidnapped by Majima if you'd be fine w/ it? 👉👈”

A/n: Okay, so this got… A little intense. I was able to water it down a lot, but please look over the warnings and take them seriously. Hope you enjoy it none the less, Nonny. Also. My autocorrect keeps trying to change “eye” to “eyes” and I’m sorry if I miss some of those. This fic is dark (much less so now than it was originally) and I am sorry. I don’t support anything in this fic and it is not meant to glamorize.

When you came to, your head was pounding. You tried to yawn, but you couldn’t seem to open your mouth. You tried to see what was stopping you, but you couldn’t move your hands. Your eyes opened, but you couldn’t see. You started to whimper, struggling to get out of your bindings.

“Oh good, yer awake. Fuckin’ finally,” a man’s voice said.

A chill ran down your spine as you realized the position you were in. The hood you didn’t know was on your head was removed, and you found yourself face to face with a man you didn’t know. The sudden light was blinding, and you struggled to keep your eyes open from the sudden light.

“Oh, what the hell,” the man grumbled. “I told ‘em none of this tape on the mouth shit.” He reached over, working a bit off to grab. “This is gonna hurt, darlin’,” he said before immediately ripping off the duct tape, causing you to let out a loud but short shout from pain. “Exactly why I told ‘em not to fuck with that shit,” he sighed, crouching down so the two of you were eye-level. “How are ya? Ya feelin’ okay?” His tone was softer, more concerned, as if he actually cared about you.

“I—”

“Juuuust kiddin’,” he said before standing up. “I don’t give two shits. Yer pops probably does, though.” He looked down at you and you looked up at him, speechless. “Oh, ya didn’t know? Yer dad’s neck deep in with the yakuza, sweetheart. Owes a lot of money to a lot of people, including me.

“I thought, ‘Maybe if I take his kid he’ll know I mean business,’ but so far that ain’t been the case. ‘Course, ya ain’t been here too long, maybe he just needs some time.” His eye raked your body, taking in every ounce of what you had to offer. He’d be lying If he said he wasn’t attracted. You were so quiet that he was a little surprised.

Truth was, you were embarrassed. You hadn’t worn these pajamas expecting to get kidnapped, but who ever expects to get kidnapped? You were in maroon short shorts, a sports bra, and a white tank-top. Panties, too, of course, but nothing that was fun or exciting just plain and black, matching the sports bra.

Memories of getting here were nonexistent. The last thing you remembered was laying down in bed to sleep. You, again, tried to move your hand to your pounding head and found it couldn’t move. That was when you started to assess your surroundings.

The man continued to watch you; being under his gaze made you feel like a small rabbit about to be devoured by a mad dog. You felt small, afraid. The look in his eye was enough to chill your soul. “Ya realizin’ the mess yer in now?” The man asked, pulling up a chair you hadn’t noticed and sitting in it. You were starting to panic as you looked around the room. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt ya.” You were tied to a chair, arms bound behind you and legs bound to the respective legs of the chair you were in. Another rope was tied around your chest, just under your breasts. You struggled a little bit.

“Well, not yet at least,” the man sighed. “Yer just… So delicious to look at.” The man’s eye raked your body again, stopping at your chest for a moment before lowering, pausing again and then meeting your gaze again. “I could eat ya right up,” he grinned wickedly at you.

“Maybe I will,” he said, still grinning.

You tried to meld with the chair, hoping to get as far away from him as possible, but that wasn’t possible.

“But not yet,” he said, sounding too happy, clapping his hands once as he stood up. “Let’s get ya some water. Gotta stay hydrated, after all.”

You blinked, watching this enigma of a man as he walked out of the room you were being held in. You took the moment too look around and fully take in your surroundings. There was a bed, a hook in the ceiling, and a chain on the ground with the far end connected to the floor that had a cuff on the other end. “What kind of sick place is this?” You gulped as your gaze shifted to the windowless cinderblock walls that surrounded you.

When the door opened you jumped and yelped.  

“Here’s yer water. Gotcha a straw,” he said with a proud grin, as if the straw was a thoughtful gesture when you were literally tied to a chair in a room that looked like it belonged in a horror movie.

“Thanks,” you muttered, sipping the water through the straw.

“’Course!” He smiled at you. “Gotta keep ya hydrated, like I said.” He continued to hold the cup and straw for you until you finished. “There ya go,” the man said with a smile. You just stared at him. “Alright. Let’s try callin’ yer dad and see if he’s gonna pay up now.” He took out his phone and called, holding it to his ear.

“Ahhh, Mr. Y/L/N, yeah?” the man said into the phone. You could only hear half of the conversation. “Good. I got yer kid here. Ya ready to pay yer debt yet?” A pause, the man’s face turning sour. “Fine, here.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and put your father on speakerphone.

“Y/n?” Your father’s voice asked, sounding a bit worried.

“Dad,” you gasped, not really expecting to hear your father. “Dad? Is that you? I don’t know where I am. Please help!

“Ohmygod, Y/n!” He was sufficiently panicked, and the man took the phone back holding it up to his ear.

“Easy, easy, Y/L/N-san. Focus.” Majima’s face contorting in frustration. “I said to calm the fuck down!” He shouted into the phone, looking pleased as he continued. “That’s better. Now, when I can I expect yer payment?” A pause, another sour face. “Do ya really think Imma let ya have until tomorrow when yer just gonna skip town. Ya got two hours, otherwise I’m keepin’ the girl.” The man hung up the phone, sliding it into his pocket. “I guess we’ll haveta see if yer Dad thinks yer worth payin’ his debt for.” He paused, looking you up and down again. “I’d pay for ya.”

You squirmed, looking away. He knelt down in front of you and looked into your eyes with his eye, watching you curiously. “I might have some fun with ya later. We’ll see. For now, I gotta get some work done. Tata~” He said, standing up and waving as he walked out the door. A moment later he came back in. “I almost forgot.” He pulled your chair over, clasping the cuff around your ankle and then cutting the ropes off that had you tied to the chair, freeing your wrists as well. “There, that’s gotta feel better.” You just stared at him, unable to move in fear. “Alright. Bye, for realsies this time, Y/n-chan~!” He walked out, waving again and you were left sitting in your chair, still too deep in shock to do anything.

What felt like hours passed and you stayed in the chair, still coming to terms with what happened and where you were. You had always thought that you would be stronger in this situation, that you would fight back – but you weren’t, and you didn’t. You just sat in your chair, rubbing your wrists, and feeling the cold metal of your ankle cuff on your skin. You felt tears floating around in your eyes, looking around as the reality of your situation settled in.

Eventually you stood up, walking around to see how far your chain would allow you to go. Not very far. You couldn’t reach any of the walls, and you could barely reach the bed and lay on it. You couldn’t even get near the door, not that you could break it down if you could reach it. From the look of it and how it sounded when it closed, it was solid wood.

You settled on sitting on the bed, looking up at the hook in the ceiling, wondering what it was for. Images of hanging slabs of meat floated through your mind and you looked away, trying to find something else to distract yourself with.

It shocked you that you weren’t crying. At this point you didn’t feel scared or sad enough to cry; you just felt numb. You didn’t feel like you were in your body. You laid down, resting you hear on the shitty flat pillow, curling up in the fetal position for warmth since there was no blanket, and closed your eyes.

/// You were awoken by the angry slam of the door and the one-eyed man looked even more angry than he had when he was on the phone. “Yer dad still ain’t payin’. Do ya know what that means?” You shook your head. “Means I gotta rough ya up a bit to show Daddy just how much I mean what I’m tellin’ him.”

You heard your dad’s voice panicking on the phone and your stomach turned sour. You cowered on the bed, not sure what was coming. The man set his phone down, climbing onto the bed with a pair of handcuffs he pulled out of his back pocket, wrestling with you until your hands were cuffed together and you were crying. What was he going to do to you?

“Majima! Don’t touch her!” Your father’s voice called out.

So this one-eyed monster had a name, and that name was Majima.

He grabbed the cufflinks and pulled you off the bed, bringing you below the hook and effortlessly putting the links into it. You tried to wiggle out of it, but you could barely touch the floor on your tiptoes, and the hook was too high to maneuver the links over it. You whimpered, knowing whatever he was going to do next was something.

“I gotta say, Mr. Y/L/N, yer daughter is… well. Ya see what I’m seein’ ain’tcha? That tank top is just… So tight. Leaves nothin’ to the imagination. Them shorts are just…” Majima’s voice trailed off and he looked over to the phone on the chair. “Ah, s’pose not. Lemme fix that.” He maneuvered the chair and phone so he could see exactly what was happening.

“Let’s begin,” the man said, pulling out a tanto, unsheathing it.

You heard your father protest, but you couldn’t understand him. Your heartbeat was whooshing in your head as you feared the worst was coming.

He was going to rape you, wasn’t he?

“Da—Dad?” You whimpered, crying. “Dad—Dad please don’t let—”

“All yer dad has to do is pay me what I’m owed, and then yer free to go,” Majima assured, approaching you. “I don’ wanna hurt ya, but I gotta get my money. Sorry, darlin’.”

“Let—Let me go home, please! Please! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t!” You begged, crying. “Please don’t—”

“This is yer dad’s doin’. All he hasta do is pay. Once he pays, yer free!” Majima laughed. “Easy as that.”

“MAJIMA!” Your dad shouted; you closed your eyes when you heard his voice crack.

You felt the tip of the blade against the skin of your neck. It wasn’t pressed enough to draw blood, but you tilted your head back in an effort to pull back from it, it didn’t work. Majima looked to his phone, and your eyes followed, seeing yourself on the screen and trying not to shriek. The blade slowly slid down to your collarbones, tracing the edges of them. You continued to whimper.

“Last chance, Y/L/N-san,” Majima’s eye was raking your body yet again, and you felt his hand playing with the fabric of your tank top. “It’s like she dressed this way just ta tease me,” he sighed, removing the blade and replacing it with his lips. “She tastes good, too,” he continued to kiss and lick your neck, maneuvering to each side. As you tried to get away, you only gave him more access. At one point he grabbed your throat. “Quit. Moving.” You did, closing your eyes and whimpering some more.

By this time, you were sobbing. You knew what was coming, and you were powerless to stop it.

“MAJIMA! STOP IT!” Your father shouted again, falling on deaf ears.

“If yer neck tastes this good, I can’t wait ta try yer pussy,” Majima growled, causing you to whimper louder, trying to lean away. He back away for a moment, turning to look at his phone, making sure your father had a good view. “Well, Daddy, what should I take first?” He asked, tapping his chin with the flat of the blade.

“Majima, please! I’ll pay! Just give me a little—”

“Ya had yer time,” Majima responded so coldly that it felt like the room temperature dropped.

He approached you, your crying and sobbing having shifted to tears and mindless babble that was begging him to stop. He wasn’t going to. He took your tank top in one hand and used the tanto to start cutting your shirt off. Once it was completely ripped open, he took another step back. You were sobbing, looking at the floor. Terrified and ashamed of what was happening.

“What’s next, Y/L/N?” Majima asked, looking at the phone, listening to your father beg him to stop. “You keep beggin’ me to stop, but you beggin’ ain’t gettin’ yer debt erased.”

“I’ll give you my home, my car, my daughter— just don’t make me watch this anymore!” Your father begged.

Majima hesitated, and it took you a moment to process what

“Deal.” He hung up the phone, looking at you, watching you cry for a moment before unlocking the cuffs. “I can’t believe that fuckin’ asshole would sell his own kid like that,” he grumbled. “She’s yer kid, dipshit, yer supposed to protect her, not sell her to clear yer fuckin’ debts.”

You didn’t care, you were just crying. You fell to the ground once you were no longer being held up by the cuffs. Majima caught you, rubbing your back as you clung to him. It was strange, clinging for comfort to the man you were sure was going to rape you not even a full minute ago. Yet, here you are, clinging to him. He picked you up, carrying you to the bed and sat you down, undoing the ankle cuff and then sitting on the bed next to you. You leaned away from him.

“I wasn’ gonna hurt ya,” Majima sighed. “Just hadta make yer dad think I was. Figured he’d pay that way, can’t say I expected him to sell ya to me.” You dived into his arms, sobbing violently. “Shhh… It’s okay,” he assured, resting his cheek against your head as you cried.

All you wanted was to wake up in your bed back in your apartment. That you could call your dad and tell him what you dreamt about and how much it hurt. He’d comfort you; tell you that would never happen, that you were more important money or material items. That wasn’t going to happen, though.

All you could do was cry, waiting for Majima to decide what he was going to do with you.

[icedthoma]

focus

--Hello~ Can I get a scenario where the reader really wants to prank their boyfriend but also get a kiss out of it so they use their water based quirk to breathe underwater (something they haven't gotten the chance to explain/use before) so it makes the boy think they drowned and they underwater kiss him? Can be whichever boy you want. Love your writing! so soft and fluffy. makes me melt everytime.

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Notes: When in doubt, Todoroki. Always. Also I’m so happy you enjoy my writing tysm <333

“So much for training.”

“Like we were going to get anything done in the first place,” you said with a small shrug from where you were treading water in UA’s practice pool, Ochaco floating beside you. 

“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed. “I feel kind of bad, though, lying a second time about the pool.”

“Iida does have a way with words.” Asui popped up from the depths of the pool with a small ribbit. “And he technically didn’t lie...”

“Keep doing those laps!” Tenya yelled at Midoriya and Todoroki on the pool’s deck, the three of them running up and down the dry area next to the water. 

“I’m just glad he didn’t rope us into that,” you sighed, dipping deeper into the water for a split second and sending bubbles rushing out of your mouth before rising up again. “I just want to sit in the water forever.” 

“You and Asui sure are thriving.” 

“Mmm.” Your eyes flitted from your friends in the water next to you to the boys running laps. “Definitely.” 

“My God. His eyes are up there you know.” 

“Shut up!” you yelled, a faint blush dusting your cheeks as you sent a small wave of water crashing into Uraraka with a flick of your wrist, hesitantly ripping your gaze from Shouto’s muscled figure crossing the length of the deck. “I was observing their practice!”

“Whatever you say.”

“I made it,” Deku gasped, staggering to a halt as Iida finally announced the conclusion of their run. “Water--I need water--” 

With that, he stumbled to the edge of the pool and toppled in with a splash. 

Iida and Todoroki seemed to be relatively unaffected, on the other hand. “Nice job, guys!” you cheered, dousing them both with a cooling spray of water. 

“Thank you,” Iida said proudly, hands set firmly on his hips as he stared down at the three of you relaxing in the water. “Though I cannot say the same for you three.” 

“Come on,” you groaned, sending one last flick of water his way. “I did like three push-ups earlier.” 

“She did,” Midoriya confirmed, resurfacing next to you. “I saw.” 

Tenya sighed, his hand reaching up by habit to adjust where his glasses would normally be before stopping halfway. “Well. I guess it doesn’t matter if they didn’t do the warmup.”

“Warmup?” Ochaco asked in surprise. “That was a warmup?” 

“I could use some warming up right now,” you said mischievously, raising yourself out of the water and pointing at Todoroki. “Care to help me out?” 

Shouto looked at you for a few seconds in silence before tossing a towel at you and crossing to the other side of the pool. 

You caught the towel and stared at his retreating back in bewilderment. You were just joking. Kind of. Maybe. 

Ten minutes later you really were starting to get concerned. 

“I don’t know what I did,” you hissed as you swam laps with Tsuyu. You could hear Deku and Uraraka yelling in the background as a heated race was going on a few lanes down from where the two of you were. “He’s been ignoring all my attempts to talk to him. Was the warm up joke earlier too much?”

Asui paused in her swimming to stand upright in the water, her finger pressed against her cheek thoughtfully. “Maybe he just wants to focus on actually exercising.” 

“But I asked him if he wanted to race me and he said no,” you cried, splashing your hands around in the water below you as a way to relieve yourself of your frustration. 

She patted your head sympathetically. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Just...don’t go to extreme means to get his attention, okay?”

You were going to go to extreme means to get your boyfriend’s attention. 

You swam down to the very bottom of the thirteen-foot deep pool to think it over. What kind of prank would you have to pull that would grab his focus for sure? Maybe you’d even get a kiss out of it, if you were lucky. 

The deep water was always where you felt most at peace, the quiet rippling of the water’s movements rushing past your ears and giving you stability. And breathing certainly wasn’t a problem for you. You had your little pocket of air down at the bottom of the pool that you had created. Every sound from the surface was muted, from the calls of the birds passing over head to the playful shouts of your friends competing against each other. There was a loud splash from somewhere up above, but you paid it no mind. Deku and Uraraka were probably racing again. 

You wondered who Todoroki was cheering for. 

A cold hand gripped your bare shoulder out of nowhere, and it startled you so much you almost collapsed your air bubble. Opening your eyes and whipping around, you were even more surprised when you came face to face with Shouto himself. He had a panicked expression on his face for the split second it took for you to look up, which was quickly replaced with his usual monotone one.

His grip on your shoulder tightened, and you realized that he had been underwater for too long. You quickly extended your air space to encircle his body, too, and watched as he sucked in air like his life depended on it. 

Wait, it actually did. 

“What were you thinking?” Shouto yelled suddenly, and you blinked rapidly in shock. 

“What are you talking about?” you demanded, all your pent up frustration at how he wouldn’t just talk to you this whole afternoon flooding into those five words. 

“Do you know how I felt when you went underwater and never came back up?” He frantically ran his fingers through his dripping wet hair, breathing still slightly heavy. “I thought you had drowned or--”

You cut him off with a burst of laughter. He watched you wheeze for a good ten seconds before insisting you tell him right now what on Earth you found so funny. 

“S-Shouto--” you gasped, clutching your sides as the two of you floated thirteen feet under the surface of the water. “You seriously think that I, someone with a water quirk, would drown? In a school pool?”

“I-” His brow furrowed in the cutest way possible as you watched him connect the dots. “Oh.” 

“I’m flattered, really, I am,” you said, crossing your arms tightly around your chest as you averted your gaze from Todoroki’s dumbstruck one, your giddy mood coming to a screeching halt. “But I only came down here to think. About what I could have possibly done wrong earlier.” 

“What you did...wrong?”

“Why you’ve been ignoring me!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air--or, water--in exasperation. “Please just talk to me! Was it something I said or...?”

Todoroki’s cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink, so faint you could barely see it. He ducked his head down and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I...uh...I didn’t want to get distracted.”

“Yeah, but even when I asked exercise-related things you still left!” You were still so, so confused, but as you surveyed him, who was literally looking anywhere but you, a thought popped into your mind. 

“Does being near me take your mind off of practice?” you asked innocently.

“No,” he insisted in vain, though the deepening blush on his face did him no favors. “I mean--not that I was--I wasn’t--”

You didn’t know what to make of this new Todoroki, this blushing mess that you were pretty sure had never been seen by any of your classmates before.

But you’d be lying if you said you hated it. 

"It’s a shame it took me almost drowning to bring you back to your senses,” you said crossly, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I think you need to make it up to me.”

Todoroki arched a brow as the two of you drifted closer and closer to each other, the water seemingly nudging you together. He brought his hand to cup the side of your face and leaned in, his lips just barely brushing over the corner of your mouth. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please.”

Closing the distance, you shut your eyes and kissed him hard, hands sliding up to wrap around his toned back and shoulder. His own hands were now planted firmly at your waist, his small sighs sending warmth ricocheting through your body at the slightest whisper of his breath across your skin. You beamed against his mouth and held him just a little bit tighter. You missed being this close to him. Sure, it had just been for just a couple hours, but you never wanted to experience those hours without him by your side ever again. 

The two of you broke apart with a gasp. Todoroki’s eyes were half-lidded as he blinked down at you, drunk on your kisses. 

“Take a deep breath,” you murmured near his ear, and once the two of you had done so, you collapsed the air bubble surrounding you and pressed your mouth to his once again.

It was usually a strange sensation for you to hold your breath underwater. After all, your quirk enabled you to breathe underwater, so why not use it? You had gotten so used to being able to breathe in water that it took all your mental energy to not take a breath right then and there. 

You kissed with your eyes open this time. There was something exhilarating about knowing you had only one breath to use, only so much air to spare before you had to either come back to the surface or create another air pocket. You were kissing to remember this time, your gaze raking over the many bubbles flurrying in the small gap between your faces, to the small line of bubbles that had collected under Todoroki’s eyelashes and on his cheekbone. A line of sunlight from the surface filtering through the clear water rested over Shouto’s eye and nose, highlighting his narrowed eyes as he stared at you so intensely, like he was trying to memorize every last feature of your face.

Your lungs began to burn, and from the way Todoroki’s lips went slack against yours and pulled away by a fraction, he was running out of air, too. You raised a hand and the water pushed the two of you up towards the surface until you broke it wheezing for breath, hands still interlocked. 

“You still thinking about practice?” you panted, mouth curving into an insufferable grin. 

He shook his head, words failing to escape him at that moment from his lack of breath. The rest of your friends were shouting something at the two of you from the pool deck, but it was all background noise to you. 

“Too bad. I challenge you to the race we should have had earlier.”

Todoroki huffed a laugh and pulled you towards the edge of the pool so the two of you could climb out. 

“You’re on.” 

[angelofarts]

28 or 34 for boggie? congrats on the followers angie!!!

tabi!! I ended up doing both but it got really sad - blame em/j

tw for mcd under the cut - my version of the alley scene

And I'm Holding On Like I'm Saying Goodbye

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

“Haven’t killed us yet.”

“Haven’t killed us yet.”

As Reggie clutched at his stomach and began to double over in pain, he cursed himself inwardly for the words he’d uttered so casually.

“Reg?” he heard Alex groan out. Reggie let out a pained gasp, reaching out to try to grasp at his friends.

Luke was the first to fall to the ground, sliding off of the ratty sofa and landing without seeming to care that he was arranged in the most uncomfortable position in the world. If he felt even a fraction of the pain Reggie did, he probably had bigger concerns than the bend of his wrist.

It was that that made Reggie startlingly aware of what was happening. Luke would never risk his fretting hand, not this close to a gig. Especially not this gig, the gig they’d worked so hard to get. The gig that was going to change everything.

Alex was next, falling to his knees heavily. Reggie watched with detached interest as Alex’s body crumpled into a ball, coming to rest with his forehead against Luke’s arm. Even in this amount of pain, Luke reached for Alex, trying to draw comfort. Reggie longed to reach forward, to try to join them, but the only thing holding him upright was the fact that he’d locked his limbs determinedly. If he released any of the tension in his joints, he was going to fall next to his brothers. And he wasn’t sure if he let himself do that if he would ever get up again.

“Guys?” he heard faintly from the entrance to the alley. “They need us inside. Have you all finished your streetdogs?”

Reggie let his head fall back, hearing Luke give a breathy moan. It would have been something to mock him for (lovingly, of course) if it wasn’t for the fact that Luke probably couldn’t articulate anything else.

“Guys?”

Bobby must have been walking closer, but Reggie had let his eyes slide shut by that point. He heard footsteps before a panicked yell sounded.

“Someone call 911! We need an ambulance!”

A man – Reggie thought it might have been the guy eating with his girlfriend at the table next to him – said he would run for the payphone. Reggie heard Bobby kneel next to Alex and Luke, heard him give a low moan of pain.

Well, he thought distantly. That couldn’t have been good.

“Reg?”

Reggie managed to open his eyes and smile. “Hi, Bobby.”

Bobby looked frantic. His hair, which was usually carefully styled for the beginning of a show, was in messy disarray. It looked as though Bobby had been raking his fingers through it. His vest was at an angle, and one of his suspenders had come loose. But most tellingly, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were full of tears.

Something serious was happening.

“Reg, you’re going to be okay,” Bobby promised. “The guy went to call 911 and the ambulance will be here soon. The doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.”

Reggie noted somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind that Bobby didn’t say anything about Alex and Luke. That felt important. If only his brain could connect everything together… there was something he was missing…

“Is there anything I can do?” Bobby asked, reaching out to touch Reggie’s forehead. Reggie forced his jaw to open so that he could ask the only thing he could think of in that moment.

“Hold me? Please?”

Bobby, normally so reluctant to join in a hug or go in for a high five, pulled Reggie into his arms without hesitation. Reggie allowed the tension in his limbs to release. Allowed himself to go slack, trusting that Bobby would hold him up and keep him safe.

“What happened?” he managed to get out. The burning in his stomach was getting worse, if that was possible, and his vision was starting to swim. He wasn’t one to usually complain about there being an extra Bobby, but in this case it seemed like it wasn’t appropriate to joke. Not that he felt like he had enough air to properly pull in a breath to form the joke in the first place.

“I think food poisoning,” Bobby murmured, brushing Reggie’s hair back. “I told Luke not to eat those damn streetdogs.”

Reggie let out a soft hum. The pain was starting to dull, to go grey on the edges. He was starting to feel lighter as well – maybe the wind rushing in his ears was lifting him up?

“Reg?”

Reggie let out another soft hum, trying to figure out how to open his eyes. When he finally located the right muscles and cracked them open, he could see the tears brimming in Bobby’s eyes had finally started to fall down his face.

“Reg, you’re going to be okay,” Bobby whispered fiercely. It was like he was trying to will Reggie’s recovery into existence, but ironically that determination was exactly what told him what was happening.

Reggie realised in a moment that he was dying.

“Bobby,” he whispered, putting all the energy he had into forming it. That one name. That one beloved, cherished name.

“Reg?”

Reggie managed to twist his lips into the ghost of a smile. He felt so light, so disconnected from his body, but it was important that he get this out. It was important that Bobby remember this – if he could hear Reggie’s whispered words over the sound of the approaching ambulance.

“Take care of yourself,” he forced out.

His eyes slid shut.

[the-lady-of-stars]

Wishing you were somehow here again -  Pt. 2

Commander Wolffe x Jedi ! Reader

Summary: The time has come... execute order 66

Warnings: Character death!! Injury/fighting/violence. Angst... and lots of it. I would say I’m sorry but I’m really just out here living my best life writing some lovely heartbreak 💞💖💘 

A/N: I listened to across the stars the entire time I wrote this for that extra angsty vibe  😇 hope u enjoy bb. If you haven’t read part 1 I recommend giving it a read before this! : ) Also dw I am not leaving it at this, there will be a Part 3. I’m not that mean ☺️ 

Tags: @wille-zarr @chaotic-noceur

Cato Neimoidia. What a beautiful city to fly over. 

You, Master Plo and the rest of the 104th Batallion had been assigned to the planet in hopes of besieging a Trade Federation stronghold. 

You peered out the windows of your starfighter at the rocky arches of the surrounding environment, enjoying the brief moment of peace and beauty this war had offered you. In front of you flew your master, Plo Koon, behind you Commander Wolffe, your beloved, then the rest of the pack trailed behind. 

You ran a finger over the makeshift grass ring that adorned your left hand, your heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of the previous week’s events. Your husband, in spirit at least. You planned to have a real wedding in the future, perhaps on Naboo if you could manage to pull a few strings with Skywalker. His marriage to the Senator had been no secret to you, so surely Anakin would not mind helping you with yours. 

You could picture it now, a marble balcony overlooking the waterfalls of Naboo, the burning orange sun gleaming from them as you kissed each other like no one was watching. Your master would be there to officiate it- he knew about you and his Commander, of course. You never had been able to hide anything from him. Master Plo had always been somewhat of a father figure to you ever since he took you as his Padawan when you were little, so of course he quickly noticed the bond forming between you and Wolffe. Much as Qui-Gon had turned a blind eye to Obi-Wan and Satine, your master had said nothing about the subject except that he wanted you to be happy, and if Wolffe provided you with such happiness then he was more than willing to protect your little secret, although you briefly remember Wolffe mentioning something about receiving an ‘if-you-ever-break-her-heart-you’re-dead’ speech from him, but you decided not to inquire further. The rest of the pack would be there of course. They were family, and without them to watch it would be no wedding at all. 

Being in a starfighter, you had no means of communicating with Wolffe except over the comm channel which also included the rest of the battalion, and you weren't in the mood to put up with Boost’s usual quips. You could, however, radiate love in his direction through the force, so that’s what you did. 

Wolffe’s chest pounded as he felt your force signature surround him like a ghostly embrace. It brought a heat to his cheeks, hands gripping the controls tighter. Any nerves from the mission dissipated and he was left feeling warm and whole. He thought to himself then that he did not ever want to feel any other way. Blissful. He was no Jedi, didn’t have a lick of force-sensitivity, but he could damn well try to return the sentiment. He found himself furrowing his brows and squinting slightly, while with all his might he mustered up his favourite memories of you, trying his best to radiate the way you made him feel. He hoped you could feel it. 

You could. A soft, breathy chuckle burst from your lips at his efforts, at how truly sweet your tough Commander was on the inside. There were few things you could be sure of in life, but the dream of really marrying him was one of them. One day, hopefully soon, you would see him stood o- what was wrong? The adoration Wolffe was radiating suddenly cut off as though someone had flicked a switch, nothing but neutrality emanating from him now. Opening yourself up to more force signatures you felt the same emotion from the rest of the boys behind you. Something was wrong, and your master clearly sensed it too as the only real emotion you could sense was his confusion. 

“Men, is something the matter?” Plo spoke over the comm channel. 

There was a momentary pause, then Wolffe was the next to speak.

“General Plo Koon, General Y/N Y/L/N, you are both subject to execution under Order 66 due to crimes against the Republic.”

Before either you or your master could say a word your ships burst into flames, your own men firing right at you. The engine was destroyed- there was nothing you could do but wail Wolffe’s name in one last desperate plea as your ship began to plummet down towards the rocky terrain of Cato Neimoidia. Smoke. Heat. Burning. Sharp. Pain. Then nothing. The world went black as your starfighter made contact with the ground. The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was the sight of your master laying dead on the ground nearby.

-----------------------

Your ears rang, a sharp tone muffling the sound of shouting voices. Clones. A pang of fear shot straight to your heart as you remembered how they had attempted to kill you, and how they had succeeded with your dear master. You flinched up instinctively, wanting to run but collapsing the second you so much as moved due to the piercing pain that struck your entire body. You whimpered, tears pricking at your eyes, hearing the clones get closer. 

It seemed that the crash had thrown you from your starfighter and into an alcove in the rocks, which gave you the slightest bit of shelter. As the ringing in your ears subsided a little you heard a pair of footsteps drawing closer to your position. You dug your fingers into the ground, desperately trying to get to your feet so you could defend yourself but with no luck. There was a small cave entrance a few metres away which could offer you a hiding place, but you weren’t fast enough. A boot planted onto your back, pinning you down and earning a yelp.

You craned your head back, trying to see who had a hold of you through the tears which had welled up. 

Wolffe. But he looked nothing like the Wolffe you knew. Your Wolffe never so much as glanced at you without tenderness, but now? A snarl had replaced his smile, eyes glaring down at you like a predator.

“Wolffe-” you choked out, which resulted in him pressing his foot down further.

“Jedi,” he practically growled. “You are to be executed for your crimes against the Republic.”

Before he could make another move, you mustered all the strength you could find and pushed him away from you and into the cave entrance nearby with the force, enough to keep him subdued for a minute or so. Still riding the spike of energy, you pulled yourself to your feet, making your way over to the miniature medical droid which was kept in each starfighter, which had clearly fallen from the crash with you. You brought it to you with the force, pressing the on button once it was in your hands. The droid buzzed to life, whirring around you in circles, clearly in distress at your state. 

“Not me,” your voice was coarse. “Give the Commander a full head scan. I’m looking for something. A chip, possibly?” You nodded your head in the direction of Wolffe slumped over in the cave entrance, the droid zooming over to him immediately. 

When you finally made it over to the cave the droid repeatedly made a beeping sound over one particular part of Wolffe’s head. 

“What’d you find?” 

The droid pulled up a hologram, a red circle highlighting a small piece of organic matter. 

“This appears to be some kind of tumour, which is not normally found in human brains,” it announced.

Your eyes widened, all the breath leaving your body. Fives had been right all along. There really was a chip hidden in the clones. 

“Remove it.” 

“But- General- I don’t think this is the place to-”

“Now!” you spoke sternly, trying to keep your voice down so the other clones wouldn’t find you. They’d notice sooner or later that their Commander was missing, but you had until them to remove that chip. 

“Very well, General. You may want to look away for this.”

A anaesthesia shot was pricked into Wolffe’s neck before the droid protruded an arm with a red laser attached to the end, beginning to cut a hole into his head. You winced, closing your eyes and holding on to Wolffe’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

 “You’ll be okay, my love,” you spoke under your breath to him, rubbing soothing circles on Wolffe’s palm. “I’ve got you.”

The whirring stopped. You opened your eyes again to see what was going on when the droid announced, “The procedure has been completed and the chip has been successfully removed. The Commander will awaken momentarily.”

“Thank you, you can shut down now,” you told the droid, shuffling closer to Wolffe so he knew you were there when he woke up. 

About thirty seconds later, Wolffe began to stir. With a groan he reached a hand up to his head, thumbing over the gauze the incision had been covered by. 

“Ahh, where am I?” 

“Wolffe? Wolffe, my love, look at me. Look at me, please.”

With a grimace he turned his head to look at you, blinking a few times before his eyes widened like saucers. 

“Cyare! What happened to you? Are you okay? Who did this to you?” he panicked, getting to his knees so he could rake his eyes over you better. 

“Oh, Wolffe...” he was back. Your Wolffe was back. You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, throwing yourself into his arms and sobbing wildly. 

“Oh shhh, shhh easy Cyare. I’ve got you now, you’re safe my sweet girl,” he cooed, rubbing his hands soothingly over your upper arms. “What happened?”

Wolffe paused, looking over at your burning starfighter, at his brothers slightly behind it stood around the body of General Plo. General Plo. Order 66. Oh. He launched himself away from you, breathing frantically. 

“It was me. I’m what happened. I- I did this. Order 66. I killed General Plo and I nearly killed you- oh stars...” Wolffe looked down at his shaking hands, thinking about what he had done with them. 

“Wolffe, look at me. Hey. Look,” you got closer to him, taking his hands in yours to ground him. Still trembling he brought his eyes to yours, tears streaming down his cheeks. “That was not you, my love. That was Sidious. He was controlling you and all the other clones through the chips in your brain. They were planted there for that very reason. I do not blame you, nobody blames you. This was not your fault at all.” 

Wolffe broke down into a flurry of “I’m sorry” and “forgive me” but you just pulled him into your chest, holding him tight, pressing kisses to his temple and his cheeks to reassure him. 

“Wolffe, my love, we don’t have much time. Your brothers are still looking for me to check if I’m dead and I’m sure they’ve noticed you’re missing by now. They’ll find us. I removed your chip but they’re still under control of Sidious. We have to leave.”

“No,” Wolffe choked sternly.

“No? What do you mean no?”

“You don’t have a ship any more, and if you ran now they’d see you and kill you on sight. I need to go back, to tell them I found your body and disposed of it. Then you run when we leave. Run and never come back, you hear me?”

Wolffe spoke through tears, clasping your shoulders tightly to make sure you heard every word. 

“No, no, Wolffe you can’t do that. I’m not going anywhere without you. I’m not leaving you to Sidious. I love you.”

“Y/N, please. My sweet girl. Oh, look at you. I wanted to marry you so bad. More than anything. But now I realise what I want more than anything is to keep you alive, even if that means I can’t be yours any more. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much,” he moved his hands up to cup your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t you go coming back to find me now, you hear me? Run and never come back. Make a life for yourself. You do that for me, hmm? Promise me,” he wept, wet eyes looking straight into yours.

“Okay. Okay I promise,” you felt your heart tearing in two. 

“That’s a good girl. My good girl,” he spoke softly.

“Wolffe-” you whimpered. 

“I know, I know, love. Everything will be alright.”

Wolffe sighed, heart visibly breaking. His glassy eyes observed your face as though it would be the last time he would ever see it. And it would. 

Unable to find any other words to say, Wolffe leaned down and kissed you one last time, tears mingling on your cheeks. His lips pressed hard against yours, clinging on to the moment as long as you both could. When he finally pulled away you chased after him, not ready to let go. 

“I have to go, cyare. Back to my brothers. I’ll be alright, don’t you worry about me, hmm? You stay safe now, I mean it. I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

Wolffe stood, absorbing the sight of you. How this was the last time he’d ever see his girl. With one final sigh he tore his eyes from you and tipped his helmet back on, exiting the cave and leaving everything he ever loved behind. 

The war left its scars on everyone, but Wolffe knew these ones would never heal.

[talonsandtails]

I wrote a thing because I was bored. And yes, believe it or not I do write occasionally. Don’t forget, my persona, Lyric, is also an OC. For context she served as a messenger during the War of Sandwing Succession

Sand.

It stretched as far as the eye could see, dipping and rising. A sea of gold and white that went on seemingly forever, occasionally disturbed by the lone cactus or the scuttle of tiny paws, the desert creatures that dwelled beneath the earth.

It was a pleasant night, a soft breeze drifting through the desert, with two of the three moons full, breaking the dark abyss of the night. The stars were like a net of fireflies cast across the sky.

On a soundless night like this, one could almost forget about the blood that stained these sands.

Overhead the blue dragon soared, blue and green scales catching the moon light, as if it were made of sapphires and emeralds. It’s blue wings beat the air, the spray of emerald scales glittering beneath the moons. It looked dangerously out of place in the desert around it.

Lyric scanned the ground nervously. Why the queen had chosen her for this mission, she would never know. Perhaps it was because she was the fastest? Even so, her pale blue scales were hard to miss in a wasteland like this one.

Or maybe the queen thought she was the most disposable. The council was short on messengers, and this was a dangerous delivery, so best send the young, insignificant rookie. It wouldn’t matter if she died on the way back, as long as the message was delivered.

Lyric shook her head, as if shaking away those thoughts. There was no time to contemplate the queens somewhat questionable decisions. She had to focus on the task at hand.

Lyrics focused on the ground below, her eyes darting around frantically. Was she still on the outskirts of the Sand kingdom? Or had she gone the wrong way and stumbled into the mainland? She’d already passed the Scorpion Den, which she’d thought was on the outskirts of the kingdom. She’d stayed close to the beach, to avoid Burns stronghold, and she thought she should be close by now. Had it gotten unusually colder yet? Or was it so cold because it was night? Deserts were supposed to be cold at night, right?

Lyric beat her wings faster. She could feel time slipping through her claws like sand. The queen had stationed a wing of her army on the border between the Ice Kingdom and the Sand Kingdom. She had hoped to attack the outer Icewing villages. But one of her spies had reported that Burn, the strongest and cruelest of the Sandwing sisters, had caught wind of the queens plan. The vicious princess was planning on wiping out their troops tonight.

The queen had ordered the soldiers to retreat. It was Lyrics job to warn them.

The mountains yawned ahead in the distance, and for a panicked moment Lyric thought she’d gone the wrong way. Did the Ice Kingdom have mountains? Was this the Ice Kingdom? or had she stumbled into the Claws of the Clouds Mountains by accident? But she felt her heart leap when she spotted the gleam of green and blue scales. Yes! The army tents were cleverly disguised in the rocky slopes. Lyric lashed her tail, putting on a bolt of speed, beating her wings as hard as she could. Who knew how much time they had? She needed to get the troops away from here as fast as possible.

Lyric angled her wings down in a dive, lashing her tail behind her. Unfortunately, she misjudged her speed and ended up jerking upwards, flapping her wings wildly in an attempt not to crash headfirst into the rock at top speed. She ended up tumbling into the camp, rolling several times before landing on her back with her wings sprawled. At least she was still alive.

Several of the soldiers around her squeaked in alarm, scrambling out of the way. Lyric winced at the harsh comments they were throwing at her. Way to make a fool of herself.

“Ack! Are you delusional?!”

“Learn to fly idiot! Don’t go flapping around like a drowned seagull!”

“Three moons, shut the heck up! Your going to bring the whole mountain down on us!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so so sorry!” Lyric yelped. This was not exactly the grand entrance she had planned. Lyric scrambled upright and whipped her head around frantically. Who was it she needed to find? Who was the commander? Three moons, why couldn’t she do something as simple as remembering a name?

Suddenly, a large, bulky dragon burst out of one of the tents. She radiated menace and strength. It almost made Lyric jump back.

“What in Pyrrhia is going on here?!” The dragon roared. The name suddenly and conveniently popped back into Lyrics head.

Tempest. Commander Tempest. This had to be her, with her gruesome scares a bulky build. She’d certainly lived up to the rumors.

One of the soldiers flicked his tail at Lyric, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“This squid-brained dragonet just crashed into our camp. We’ll be lucky if she hasn’t alerted the whole Ice Kingdom by now.”

Commander Tempest glared at Lyric, her gaze cutting right through her.

“What does this idiot want?”

Lyrics throat closed over her words. Moons above, Tempest was every bit as intimidating as she thought she’d be.

“Well?” Tempest sat on her back talons and crossed her arms, glaring down her snout at Lyric. She poked Lyric with her tail.

“Are you deaf? Speak.”

Lyrics voice returned to her. “I-i-I, I’m s-sorry, Commander Tempest,”

Lyric crouched into a hasty bow. She wondered if this was right protocol for talking to the commander or if she was making an even bigger fool of herself.

“I-I have a message from Q-Queen Coral!”

Lyric fumbled with the bag slung around her neck, hastily tugging out a small scroll.

“The-the Sandwings- er, the prin- Burn has been alerted to your presence. They may be attacking tonight. The queen has ordered you to retreat.”

Tempest raised a scaley eyebrow. She took the scroll from Lyric and unfurled it, pausing for a second, then nodding.

“Slithering sand snorters,” Tempest snarled. “Why don’t we stay and fight them off? We could take out Burn and the lower Icewing villages at once.”

Lyric hadn’t considered that, but this wasn’t her decision. “Y-you can talk it over with the queen. But, t-this is a direct order, so, uh...”

Lyric, under Tempest’s glare, figured it a was probably a good idea to shut up. Tempest turned to several of the dragons around her.

“Go spread the word. Pack up as fast as you can. Anyone not ready in ten minutes will be left to the sand snorters.”

Tempest glanced at Lyric for a second. “Thank you. You better scurry on home, shrimp. This is no place for a dragonet.” Tempest turned back to her soldiers, barking orders.

Lyric was taken aback for a second. Did it really matter? But Tempest was right, Lyric wasn’t much of a fighter. Lyric nodded, gave a half bow, and sprang into the air. Her wing beats were shaky, but oddly confident. She’d done her job. Well, she’d made a fool of herself, but at least she’d done her job. Hopefully the queen would be pleased.

Lyric flew on, with a small grin on her face. She looked behind her occasionally to see the SeaWing troops soaring behind her. She’d done her job, she’d been useful. She’d helped save those soldiers, and-

Suddenly, a dune exploded right below her. Lyric squeaked in alarm. Her wing beats faltered, and she flapped wildly for a second to right herself. She flew higher to get a better view of what was going on.

She wished she hadn’t.

Below her, the ground was bursting with sand dragons, like ants swarming out of their piles to fight whoever had disturbed them. The Sandwings lunged towards the sea dragons, with talons outstretched and teeth bared. Lyric watched in horror as the blue dragons began to drop like rain, crumbling to the ground, staining the sand below them.

Lyric was snapped out of her horror by claws raking across her snout. A Sandwing, a large female with pale white scales, had snatched lyric out of the air, throwing her towards the ground. Her tail stabbed for Lyrics heart, the venomous barb gleaming menacingly.

Lyric lashed out, clawing frantically at the sand dragon. She batted the Sandwings tail away with her wings, and felt her claws grab hold of the Sandwings neck. Lyric sank her claws in, holding on desperately. Her attacker hissed furiously, beating her wings frantically, struggling to stay in the air against Lyrics weight. Her tail snaked towards Lyric again. Lyric snatched her tail in her jaws, like a bear catching a fish, and bit down as hard as she could. She felt her teeth sink into the weak spot that every dragon had in their tail.

The sand dragon roared and yanked her tail away, ripping Lyric off her neck and sending her spinning towards the ground. The sea dragon yelped and spread her wings, landing rather clumsily on the sand.

Lyric turned to the bloodbath above her, her heart sinking, with blood from her snout clouding her vision. Her mind couldn’t register what had happened. Had this been her fault? Had she been too late? Had she somehow caught the Sandwings attention?

Her mind desperately grabbed onto an explanation. Something, anything that could explain this outcome.

As Lyric watched the sky in horror, one of the sand dragons snaked her head around to glare at her, as if she had felt the sea dragons gaze. The Sandwing was large and bulky, her body disfigured with gruesome scars that told stories and fearsome battles and vicious foes. The chain mail armor on her chest gleamed with pride. Her obsidian black eyes had a sharp gleam to them. The eyes almost had a smug look to them. A look that said “nice try” and “I win” and “you failed.”

Burn, Lyric realized, must have planned this all along. Now that she thought about it, it was a rather clever plan. Prompt your enemies into retreating, then ambush them when they try to escape. Quite clever, indeed.

Lyric tore her eyes away. Sandwings were truly the worst tribe. It was their fault they were all in this war in the first place. They were horrible, vicious dragons. The messenger would never forget that. She spotted several blue and green figures, frantically trying to bolt away from the scene. Among them, she thought she saw the Commander. Retreat, yes, they were still trying to escape.

The small, blue messenger leapt into the air after them, blood pooling around her snout, dripping onto the sand. One could never forget the blood that stained these sands.

[whattodowithace]

Roommates Code: How it Began (Seyoon’s Story)

Title: Roommates Code: How it Began

Pairing: Liju x Seyoon & Donghun (But can be reader x Seyoon & Donghun)

Genre: Humor, slight spice

Word count: 2187

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

"Would you stop playing that video?" I groan, ready to throw my textbook at my schoolmate who sat on my head watching a music video for the hundredth time.

"I have to watch it closely. It's for science." She answers me, her eyes staying glued to the screen in front of her.

"You could help me with our homework project due in a few days. For science." I mimic her wording, making her narrow her eyes at me before shutting her laptop down to get her books.

This is how our relationship was. And how it probably always would be. My relationship with my classmate was fairly new. Both of us meeting one day at a study group in the library at our school. We continued to see each other for the next four weeks. The group we were with ignoring us most times, leaving us with just each other to talk to. Now we had moved our study sessions to my house. Us studying for school together becoming a weekly habit on top of sitting next to each other during lunch break at school as a excuse to hang out.

The room is silent for five minutes before she pipes up again; "You know, with the amount of times we talk to each other and see each other, we could move in together as roommates once we graduate." She tells me.

I look up from my book to meet her eyes, surprised to see she was actually being serious. I lean back in my chair as i say, "We would probably kill each other."

She shrugs, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she does so. "We might." She says, "Or we might not. We've been hanging out with each other for five months now and haven't manged to argue yet. And we don't seem to stress each other. And i don't see you or i getting boyfriends means how we like being alone so much."

I laugh,  the idea amusing and sounding fun. But it seemed a little outlandish means how we still had another nine months of high school left.

"We'll see where we are when we finish school. We might hate each other by then." I say before turning back to my book.

``````

The problem with us, however, is when we kid about something, it often times happens somehow. Two months after graduating high school we found good paying jobs and a available apartment.

"I'll let you two look around a bit more." The landlord of our new apartment said as she walked down the stairs, "Congratulations on getting the place."

We both thanked her with smiles on our faces before shutting the door and letting out an excited scream. Our place small but roomy enough for us, making it feel like a palace compared to our small bedrooms at home. And the biggest difference was this was our place.

"Which room do you want?" She asks me as we make our way down the hall.

"You can have the bigger room. You have more things than i do." I tell her, stepping into what would be her bedroom.

"You've never had a big bedroom before though." She says, sounding guilty.

I laugh, "Please, my room has a bathroom. That's a luxury by itself."

We both laugh as we continue walking around our rooms. At one point I stand in my room trying to think of how to arrange things when i hear her call,

"If we shut our bedroom doors can we still hear each other?" She asks, poking her head into my room.

Our bedrooms were stationed right next to each other, the thought of being able to talk even from our rooms making me giggle.

"Lets see." I say through a laugh. Shutting my bedroom door, hearing her do the same a moment later.

She taps on the wall next to my room, the sound echoing through my empty room. "We could learn mores code!"   I hear her say as she starts randomly taping the wall with her hand.

I laugh and lean my back against the wall, "If our walls are this thin that means our neighbors can hear us. Which means they're going to wonder why your using mores code to summon Satan."

I hear her laugh as she walks out of her room and into mine, "But if we ever get boyfriends it might be an issue. We'll hear more of each other than is wanted."

``````

Four years later:

I sit at the kitchen table one afternoon scrolling through my Ipad when the front door unlocks and my roommate steps inside. I open my mouth to greet her but quickly shut it when i see the man standing behind her.

"Thank you again for walking me home, Seyoon." She says, smiling at him as she leans her body weight against the door.

"It was no problem." He says sweetly, smiling back at her.

I bite my lip and slowly move off my chair to try to sneak away to my bedroom to give them some privacy. I had just stood up when she turns her head and looks at me,

"Where are you going?" She asks, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I straighten and force a smile on my face, silently cursing her for drawing attention to me.

"Nowhere." I answer  in a sweet voice, my eyes narrowing at her.

"Hey Seyoon." I wave at him.

Seyoon waves back at me, "Hey, good to see you."  His smile widens as he looks back at my roommate before saying, "I should get going. But it was really good to see you all. Thank you for letting me walk you home." He says. I don't miss the way his hand slightly reaches for hers that rests on the doorknob or how he lingers at the door though. All of this making me smirk.

She thanks him again before shutting the door completely and whirling around to throw her bag at me. I let out a cry when it hits me on the shin.

"What the heck do you keep in there? Bricks?" I grumble as i rub my leg.

"I keep them in there for when i need to beat you to death." She fires  back. "I told you to stay in the same room as me if we ever see him. Then you try to wonder off!"

"He looked like he wanted to be alone with you!" I shout, a smirk on my lips.

She narrows her eyes at me before running up and kicking my feet out from under me, making me land on my back, air leaving my lungs.

She kicks me in the butt, making me scream.

"He walked you home! That's a clear sign he wants a relationship with you!"  I scream at her. Her face going red.

"I don't care, because i don't want a relationship with him." She mumbles quietly.

I stand up from the ground and brush myself off, "Are you sure about that?" I ask, making her hesitate but still narrow her eyes at me.

This had been an ongoing conversation between us for the past month. Kim Seyoon was her workmate, he also only lived a block away from our apartment. For the past month, he had been making it very clear he liked her. Making lunch for her, sending her texts to check on her when she didn't show up at work. He even brought over some soup once for me when i was sick and she had stayed home to make sure  i didn't die. Clearly trying to get on my good side as well.

Needless to say, i liked him for her. But her being the stubborn person she is, refused to admit she liked him or wanted a date with him. So for the past month we had talked, argued, and screamed at each other about the matter. Even though she denied it, i could see her walls cracking slightly. She was growing more of a weak spot for him than she wanted to admit.

"I'm going to go. I ordered a Pizza for dinner for us." I tell her as i pick up my car keys.

A smile grows on my roommates face at the mention of her favorite food. "This doesn't change anything. I still don't like you."

I laugh and roll my eyes, "I know." I sigh out as i walk out the door.

```````

"This one?"

"No." I answer after observing the dress briefly that she had pulled from her closet.

"I don't know what to wear!" She groans in frustration. Raking her fingers through her hair.

After three months of bucking liking Seyoon, she finally caved in to him. Tonight being their first official date that he was going to pick her up for in an hour.

"I still say this dress," I tell her, holding up a red low cut dress with a thick black belt around l the waist.

"But i don't want to wear it." She whines, stomping her foot slightly.

I sigh and put the dress down on her bed. "You look good in it and you know he would like it. You just are too scared to wear it."

My roommate glares at me, mumbling words under her breath as she goes to put the dress i picked out on.

For the remaining hour we walk around our apartment finding things she needed to complete her look. Which included her borrowing one of my necklaces, me doing her hair while she worked on her makeup, and us arguing back and forth like always.

The doorbell rain as she was putting her shoes on, the noise making her jump and look at me panicked. I smirk at her as i wonder down the hall to my door so he couldn't see me when she opened the door. She gave me a passing glare as she went to open the door, Seyoon greeting her warmly in a white button down shirt and black slacks. His blonde hair falling over his eyes in fluffy locks. His eyes widening slightly and his voice going nervous when he saw her.

I smile to myself as i watch the pair walk out the door. I retreat into my bedroom for a night to myself while she was gone.

```````

I stumble into the kitchen sleepily the next morning. My eyes refusing to stay open. I go to the fridge and pour some cold coffee into a cup when my roommate comes out of her room, her eyes sparkling.

"Good morning." She say brightly, going to the fridge to pour herself a glass of milk. Her long hair doing little to hide several of the dark patches that cover her neck and collarbone

I stand by the counter with a glare on my face as she does so. My gaze on her making her meet my eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that? And why do you look so tired?"

"Maybe it's because certain people wouldn't stop moaning and panting last night." I snap. Making her almost spit her mouthful of milk all over the floor.

"You heard us?" She coughs.

"Our walls are paper thin!" I say, "Your bed is close to the wall so i could hear everything. Until 3AM i heard many many things."

"No.. you... you didn't,  did you?" She asks, her voice cracking and her eyes wide from shock.

"That's a good boy." I mimic, using one of her choice words that night.

She gasps loudly, her face and neck going red. "I thought you would be asleep!"  

"I was. But all the noise definitely woke me up." I tell her, finishing off my coffee to put the cup in the sink.

"We need a code of some sort if he's going to be coming over here a lot for your make outs." I tell her.

She gives me a nervous look, her face still red. "What kind of code?" She asks.

"Something. An agreement that we will leave when the other one wants to spend time alone with their boyfriend or something."

"You don't have a boyfriend." She jabs, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Shut up." I snap, making her laugh.

For the next hour we sit on the couch going back and forth on the rules of this code. The code being simple enough, but holding a measure of  trust that the other one would respect the others privacy when asked. We had just finished setting special text tones for each other as part of the Roommates Code when Seyoon walked out into the living room. His blonde hair sticking up in funny places and several dark marks littering his neck.

“Do you guys always laugh so loud?" Seyoon teases, a smile tugging at his lips as he rubs his eyes.

"I know someone else who's loud."   I mumble under my breath, making my roommate stand up quickly and chase me to my room, screaming at me the entire time. Leaving a chuckling Seyoon to stand in the living room alone.

[vee-angel]

Non-consent Nancy (part 2, repost)

(Technically this is part 3, I just posted part 1 and 2 as a single post)

CONTENT WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. This section briefly checks in with her recently raped Jewish friend, but the bulk of this section will focus on Nancy violently abusing and raping a young female-to-male transgender person.

And if you happen to be the type of person who might feel bad about getting off to a hate-crime (or you’re just a decent person who enjoys indecent erotica), consider donating to Trans Lifeline at translifeline.org

(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)

Chapter 1, part 3

Nancy got a warm, fuzzy feeling when a mutual friend texted her saying that Hannah had been attacked and was presently being treated for her injuries at the hospital. She rushed out the door, eager to see the damage inflicted on her close friend.

She headed to a room on the second floor after a brief consultation with the hospital receptionist,  Entering, she saw Hannah sitting in the bed; her spirit broken and so was her beak-like nose. The normally large protrusion that jutted from the center of her face was now swollen to even more ridiculous proportions. Nancy couldn’t help but let a laugh escape from her throat, but quickly stifled it, putting her hands to her face and passing it off as a cry of horror.

Hoping to add to her pain just a little bit more, Nancy rushed to her side and flung her arms around the little kike, squeezing her face tightly against her large breasts. She twitched and pulled away, obviously in pain.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have realized you’re not really touchable.” Nancy was proud that even now, she could drop subtle, subconscious jabs showing how repellent she thought Hannah was. “What happened, Hannah??”

“Somebody posted my pictures online. The ones I sent to you.” Her voice was even more whiny than normal; she sat hunched, staring down at her knees. “I don’t know how they got them, but they were giving out my address, too!” She began to weep. “Someone was pretending to be me, saying that I wanted to be… That I wanted this to happen. What’d I do, Nancy? I never did anything to anybody that would make them want to hurt me like this!” The sobs escalated to an ugly bawling.

Nancy sat, pulling her face into an expression of concern. She handed a tissue box to Hannah. “People will hate you no matter what you do. Some people just get off on hurting the weak. There’s not much you can do about that fact.”

Everyone hates you, you’re weak, you should give up hope; Somehow Nancy had managed to word those sentiments as though they were aimed to comfort.

After a few more moments of Hannah wiping the tears from her twisted, squealing Jew face, she turned back to Nancy, “I really appreciate you being here for me.”

“Of course! You’re one of my best friends. If you ever need to talk about what happened, I want you to know that I’m here for you, day or night.”

The two women spoke a few minutes longer, until Nancy elected to leave to make room for Hannah’s family, who had just arrived. She certainly didn’t want to get trapped in a room reeking so strongly of kikes.

She attended classes until late afternoon, at which time she popped over to her apartment to pick up the spy-cameras she’d had overnighted, then went back to the rape-crisis center hoping that Darla would return. She didn’t, but at least Nancy got some practice secretly surveilling some of the girls that came in.

That evening, she began to feel antsy. After all the delights she’d had the luck to witness in the last few days, she was starting to feel restless. She needed someone to rape.

She had a dating app in her phone that she’d set up under a fake name. She scanned through the few women who’d messaged or admired her, none of them were especially appealing. She decided to look at the males, thinking that maybe she could rape-bait one of them into assaulting her; it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but then again, the wants of a man, especially a would-be rapist, would always surmount hers.

That’s when she saw it. A little cuntboy who called itself Angelo. If this thing thought it passed for male, it was sorely mistaken. She scanned the confused dyke’s profile and found the term “f2m” hidden at the bottom. Based on the message she’d sent Nancy, it seemed the desperate little twat was a little girl-crazy.

Nancy had a plan. She wrote back to Angelo, saying how handsome ‘he’ was, and how she’d love for them to get together soon.

The next evening, Nancy made her way to the restaurant that Angelo had picked out for them. The tranny cuntboy was already waiting on a bench out front. It sheepishly stood and introduced itself with a voice awkwardly forced into a lower register, then gave a quick, awkward hug before beckoning Nancy to join it inside.

A few inches shorter than Nancy’s statuesque frame, dirty blond hair cut short and neatly parted at the side, freckled cheeks beneath green eyes, and rather stylishly dressed; a white button-down shirt whose top two buttons were flirtatiously undone beneath a charcoal suit that actually managed to fit over the freak’s boyish frame. Angelo was just her type, not that Nancy would admit to the attraction.

Nancy had leaned into her femme side. A short, flowy, scarlet dress adorned her dark-chocolate skin, accessorized with a layered gold necklace and a druzy ring carved from a single piece of amethyst.

Angelo seemed eager to please, though just slightly on the timid side. Nancy laughed at “his” jokes, touched “his” hand from across the table, and looked down with a demure smile each time their eye contact lingered. She hoped her flirtations would speed the evening along.

Less than ninety minutes later they were walking into Angelo’s third-floor studio apartment. The room was tidy, with a muted color scheme and modern decor seemingly devoid of a woman’s touch. With a giggle, Nancy was upon the little cuntboy as soon as the door closed behind them, pushing it invitingly toward the bed centered against the rear wall of the room.

“Hang on a second.” it said.

Angelo stood, taking a zippo lighter from the bedside table, and lit a series of scented candles organized neatly around the room. It then hung up its coat and laid on the bed. Nancy crawled on top, her toothy smile ravenous with a hunger for what was to come.

Nancy kissed the dysphoric dyke hungrily, her hands frantically kneading across the flesh, moving downward until she felt a large silicone cock-and-balls that cuntboys like Angelo sometimes wore inside their underwear to play at being real men. She let out a little squeal of delight, pretending to believe that the thing in Angelo’s underwear was its own and not some dress-up toy ordered from an online costume shop for freaks.

She moved downward, gingerly unfastening the button of the slacks and pulling down the zipper. She stood briefly to yank the pants off with dramatic flair before playfully hopping back onto the bed, Angelo’s feet straddled between her knees.

“Wow,” Angelo said, almost breathless at Nancy’s forceful passion. It reached toward a drawer at the bedside table, “Let me get the, uhh, ya know.”

“Mmm, of course. I bet you need the magnum size.” She said, rubbing the front of Angelo’s grey boxer-briefs. She dipped her fingers into the waistband and pulled down as her face descended.

Then suddenly her expression changed. “What the fuck is this?” she demanded as she seized the realistic silicone genitals and held them accusingly above Angelo’s suddenly confused face.

Nancy threw the fake cock forcefully onto the bed and yanked the boxer-briefs down to the knees. “Oh my god! You’re a fucking girl?!?” She shouted, her lips curling in disgust at the last word.

Angelo sat up, her hands darting to her underwear to re-dress herself, Nancy responded by slapping her hard across the face. Angelo looked scared, and helpless. “You lied to me, you tranny cuntboy freak!” Nancy spat the words at her, before literally spitting in her cowering face.

“Please don’t call me that!” Her voice was cracking.

Angelo yanked her feet out from under Nancy and crawled off the bed, pulling her underpants up in the process. He wiped Nancy’s saliva from her eye and tried to compose herself. With still panicked breathing, she pointed at the door and tried to sound authoritative. “You need to leave right now.” she was actually shaking, “Get the fuck out of my house.”

While Nancy hated the ghetto-monkey dialect she had grown up hearing, she found it useful when the occasion arose that she needed to assert a sort of primal authority. Still, she couldn’t help but speak with her erudite style of slow enunciation and clearly articulated consonants, “You had best get that base out of your voice before I shove that fake cock up your bitch-ass, you tranny, cuntboy motherfucker.” Nancy took slow, menacing steps toward her as she spoke. Angelo retreated.

“That’s it, I’m calling the police!” She hurried over to the slacks that had been tossed across the room, squatting down to reach into the pocket. At that moment, Nancy threw a meticulously practiced roundhouse kick that caught the little girl-faggot just below the ear. Angelo was left slowly writhing, half-conscious on the slate tile floor.

“I told you what was going to happen, didn’t I, cuntboy?” Nancy reached down and raked her fingers through Angelo’s dark blonde hair before her fingers formed into a fist; dragging her by her hair, she forced her back onto the bed before yanking her boxer-briefs down and off in several successive, violent motions. She continued holding the tranny face-down by her scalp with one hand while she grabbed the fake cock with the other. She drove her knee into the cuntboy’s ass to spread it wide enough to expose her tight, pink asshole. When she began stuffing the soft rubber cock into her, Angelo seemed to regain her senses. She started thrashing, but Nancy overpowered her and began shoving even harder.

“No! No please! You’re hurting me!” Angelo tearfully cried out as Nancy’s french manicure scraped against her anus with each push. Nancy smiled with satisfaction as the confused boy-girl begged for the violation to stop.

After several agonizing seconds, Nancy had finally stuffed the last of Angelo’s packer up her ass. She released her victim and stood back to take in the sight of the broken bitch. “Flip over and show me your pussy.”

The little cuntboy closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the world. Nancy grabbed her hair again, yanking her to her feet. She punched the girl hard in the face twice, the crystalline points of the amethyst druzy ring leaving deep wounds that would heal into permanent scars across her freckled cheeks.

“Lay down and spread your legs!” Nancy commanded. The terrified girl finally complied, blood dripping from her wounded face. The sound of whimpering providing soundtrack for the sight of the pink cunt, adorned with a neatly trimmed layer of wispy blonde fuzz.

“That’s fucking disgusting. If you don’t even know how to shave a pussy, than you don’t deserve one.” Nancy stomped over to the night-stand to grab the zippo lighter, then returned to the foot of the bed, pinning Angelo’s legs wide against the mattress with her knees. This ensured that the tranny wouldn’t be able to close her legs as she flipped open the lighter and ignited the flame. Angelo looked down in horror as Nancy brought the flame against her sensitive, pink cunt.

The bitter smell of burning hair filled the room as the boy-pussy went aflame. A panicking Angelo tried to sit up, but was met with Nancy’s strong, steely fingers clamping around her windpipe and pinning her to the bed. The pathetic twat thrashed frantically, she didn’t know whether to try to snuff the fire that was blistering the skin of her labia, or rip away the vice-like grip that was crushing her throat. In the end, she succeeded at neither.

The fire, thankfully for Angelo, went out after several seconds. The skin of her vulva was left bright red, with various round spots of white where the damaged skin was beginning to form blisters. “You know, if you just wore a skirt and shaved you cunt like a good girl, I wouldn’t have to do this for you. But you’re too fucked in the head to do that, aren’t you?”

Nancy released her throat, the tranny cuntboy had a coughing fit. Her legs were still pinned open, driven painfully wide by the pointed knees driven into the nerve-laden tissue of her inner thighs. She finally took a few gasping breaths as she realized that Nancy was still holding the burning lighter.

“I’m doing this to help you get better, you know. You’re probably going to be tempted to try to turn that little clit of yours into a full fledged dicklet sooner or later, so…” she paused for just a moment to forcefully blow out the flame of the zippo, leaving only the glow of hot-red metal where the flame had been, “let me remove the temptation.”

She drove the hot metal firmly against Angelo’s skin. She screamed as her clit turned to smoke; Nancy muffled the screaming, pressing her hand over the girl’s mouth. Even the half-silenced shriek was almost loud enough to drown out the wet, popping sound of boiling skin.

A few seconds later, she pulled the hot metal away, having left most of its heat in Angelo’s destroyed clitoris. Little bits of burnt flesh snapped off and stuck to the lighter. Upon examining the wound, she was satisfied to see a rectangular reddish-pink pit where the flesh had been, shiny-wet inside and wreathed with ragged black edges.

The toned, statuesque rapist needed to take a moment to catch her breath; they both did. She stood, closing the lighter and tossing it on the bed. She took a brief moment to stretch while she listened to the frantic screaming sobs as Angelo clutched her devastated genitalia. Nancy looked down with a smile to see the fake rubber penis peeking out of her asshole as she heaved with tears.

She had almost forgotten about that! She pinched the soft rubber tip and yanked the full mass out of the boycunt’s twitching asshole. Almost reflexively, Angelo seemed to reach out for it like a toddler who’s favorite toy was just stolen away. She watched as Nancy held the phony organ at arms length and walked over the the adjoining kitchen. There was a brief pause in the sobbing as Angelo tried to divine Nancy’s intention. A new wave of disbelieving shock came over her as she watched the piece that defined her identity dropped into the sink drain and Nancy’s finger moved swiftly toward the switch of the garbage disposal.

“NO! PLEASE!!!” She screamed like a little girl watching her teddy bear being eviscerated. Her voice was soon drowned out by the grinding sound as the only intact set of genitals she had left was turned into mangled rubbery slivers by the spinning metal blades.

“For someone who thinks they’re a boy, you sure cry like a little girl!” Nancy snapped.

The broken bitch-boy managed to whimper out “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Sorry for lying to me, sorry for being a fucking pervert, or are you just a sorry piece of shit?” Nancy spat the words as an accusation.

“I’m so-oo-orry! Plee-heease! Please… just leave me alone.�� Angelo barely managed to articulate the plea through the tears that streamed down her bloodied and battered face.

“You want me to leave?? I thought you wanted to get laid, you pathetic little dyke. What, am I suddenly not pretty enough for you anymore?”

“Why are you doing this to meee?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, “Okay, fine. You’re little pity-party worked. I’ll fuck you, you don’t need to beg.”

Angelo looked confused as Nancy advanced. She scrambled backward on the bed, leaving crumpled piles of sheets in her wake. Nancy grabbed her ankles and dragged her down forcefully before hopping onto the bed herself; her dense, muscular form crushing little Angelo beneath it. She began kissing the girl, tasting the salty combination of blood and tears as Angelo clenched her lips and eyes tightly. Undeterred, Nancy reached down and forced two fingers into the mutilated cunt below. Angelo twitched in fresh pain as she was roughly finger-raped. Kissing her way down the cuntboy’s neck and chest, she arrived once again at the mutilated pussy. From this angle she had the leverage to properly fist-rape the little tranny.

She added two more fingers roughly inside and began pushing. Angelo twitched violently at the painful new violation. Nancy encountered resistance when her bulky druzy ring pushed against the back edge of her hole.

“You’re ring! Please take off your ring!” Angelo regained her senses just enough to make the seemingly reasonable request not to be fisted by sharp points of rock. Unfortunately, Nancy didn’t feel very reasonable at the moment.

The fingers were roughly withdrawn, but only so Nancy could take a firm jab at Angelo’s mouth, splitting her lip and shattering a few of her teeth with the pointed formations of amethyst. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, faggot!” She jammed her hand back up the girl’s burned and blistered vagina, her ring slowly scraping its way inside of her with a series of sudden violent thrusts. Angelo began screaming again as Nancy buried her hand wrist-deep inside of her.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to slit your throat.”

Angelo quickly grabbed a pillow to scream into as Nancy resumed her violent assault on her cervix. She punched in and out, making sure to bruise and scrape every inner surface with the crystal shards she wore as jewelry. After a few minutes of vigorous thrusting, she heard the dyke-faggot’s voice give out. She withdrew her hand, now slick with crimson blood whose hue was deepened upon her chocolate colored skin.

She looked down at Angelo, still pouring tears and blood and snot into the pillow and asked, “Well? I need to get off, too. Come here and lick my pussy.” She lifted the front of her blood-red dress, the wet streaks on her hand leaving barely noticeable stains. Beneath was a form-fitting pair of white cotton panties.

“I said lick my pussy, Angelo.” She demanded with a sneer.

The defeated form slowly dropped down from the bed, walking on her knees over to where Nancy stood, waiting. Nancy dipped a finger down and pulled her underwear aside, revealing the firm, flawless skin of her coffee colored labia.

Angelo opened her mouth and hesitantly moved it toward the neatly formed, feminine flower. Just before her tongue made contact, Nancy shot a stream of pale-yellow piss straight down Angelo’s throat. She began to cough and turned away.

Nancy grabbed her head angrily with both hands, “Don’t you dare turn away!” She forced the tomboy’s face back into the path of her urine. “Open your eyes! Open your fucking eyes!” She pried her date’s eyes open and shot salty piss straight across the green irises. When she was finally done using Angelo’s face as a urinal, she threw her onto the cold tile floor and gave her a couple of firm kicks in the torso.

Finally satisfied, she looked down at the sad, tormented form. She listened to the small, heaving tears of the thoroughly raped woman at her feet, her ragged voice periodically went silent. It was as if she was having a conversation with some unseen entity, and responding only in the language of weary sobs.

Nancy smiled, “Thanks for buying me dinner, Angelo. I had a great time tonight.”

With that, she left.

[junghelioseok]

catharsis.

↳ no matter what kind of release you need, he’s there.

◇ jungkook x reader | ft. pjm ◇ smut | college!au | fwb!au  ◇ 23.5k [1/1]

notes: i don’t have a good explanation for this. i’m comprised of exactly 0% chill and i really wanted to write a jikook threesome, so here it is ft. too much plot and a whole lotta whipped kook, lmao. quick shoutout to @puellaigmotum, who has been supporting me and calling me out on my shit in equal measure during this process. thanks for listening to me ramble and making me suffer with pictures/gifs of the rude fucker aka jeon jungkook - i do appreciate it ♡

also, please read this on a computer if you’re able! the keep reading cut doesn’t always show up, and this fic can and will freeze the mobile app, believe me, lmao.

warnings: switch!jjk, kinda sleazy jimin, oral, slight overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, masturbation, sexting, threesome (mfm), mild cumplay? who really knows!

Of two things, you are certain.

The first—and undoubtedly the most pressing—is that finals week is going to be the death of you. Tearing your gaze from the chemistry book on your desk, you flop down ungracefully onto your bed for a well-deserved break, extending one hand to rummage around the crumpled blankets for your phone.

The second—and really, you’re counting on this—is that Jeon Jungkook’s dick is going to keep you sane until graduation. Over the past year, you’ve called on each other so often that you don’t even have to scroll down in your text messages to find his name. A few clicks and a simple come over later, you throw your phone down and release a long, heavy breath before letting your eyes slide shut.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, because you jolt awake to the sound of someone knocking. With a groan, you drag yourself to your feet and pad over to the front door, throwing it open to reveal one exceptionally rumpled Jeon Jungkook, his chest heaving.

You raise an appraising brow. “What, did you fucking run over here?”

Jungkook rakes a hand through his tousled hair—still damp with sweat—and adjusts the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Just got out of dance practice, actually,” he explains. “And your elevator’s out, so I had to take the stairs. Six flights is no joke, you know.”

Stepping aside, you let him in, watching as he drops his bag to the ground carelessly as soon as he’s over the threshold. “You better not be too tired to fuck me.”

His gaze darkens. You barely have time to register the change in his expression before he has you pressed against the wall, strong arms caging you in an ironclad embrace. “Trust me, baby, I’m wide awake,” he murmurs before leaning down to crush his lips to yours. His tongue finds its way into your mouth as he reaches up to cup your cheek, the other hand sliding down to rest at the small of your back and tugging you flush against his firm chest.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, pulling away from his addictive mouth only for his attentions to refocus on the crook of your neck instead. A soft moan escapes you as he nips at the sensitive skin, and Jungkook groans lowly in response, his grip tightening around you.

“I’m going to end up fucking you right here against this wall if you keep moaning like that, babe.” His hands dip down to the fleshy curve of your ass, squeezing as if to emphasize his point.

Your head falls back at the jolt of not-quite pain. “Wh-while that wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened,” you stammer, watching through lidded eyes as Jungkook grasps the hem of your shirt and tugs it up to expose your bare breasts, “why waste the perfectly good bed I have in my bedroom?”

Jungkook dips down to press a kiss to your cleavage, and you thank whatever god may be out there that you decided to forego a bra this morning. “Why indeed?” In an instant, he’s pulled your shirt entirely off, tossing it to the ground haphazardly before scooping you up into his arms. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he commands, and you are quick to obey, winding your arms around his neck for additional support. His mouth finds yours again as he carries you into your room and places you gingerly on the bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and as soon as you’re settled you break the kiss to reach for his white t-shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Throwing it aside, you greedily take in the sight of his bare skin, golden like honey in the soft light of your desk lamp.

“Pants,” you demand, grasping at his belt buckle, but Jungkook stops you with a laugh, much to your displeasure.

“No way,” he murmurs, hot breath washing across your cheeks. “It’s your turn.”

“We’re taking turns? What is this, elementary school?” you ask in disbelief, only for the complaint to trail off into a moan when Jungkook starts kissing a path down your bare stomach. Sly fingers find their way into the waistband of your sweatpants, and in a single, practiced motion, he peels them off along with your panties. You gasp loudly at the sudden rush of cool air, hands flying up to tangle in his silky hair as your body jolts in surprise. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

“So sensitive.” Jungkook chuckles, brazenly blowing a puff of warm air against your clit. “And already wet,” he marvels, drawing closer to your core. “You’re so needy, baby.”

A low groan escapes you, your hands tightening their grip on his hair. “Don’t tease,” you plead, canting your hips up toward his smirking mouth.

Obligingly, Jungkook leans down and licks a long, slow stripe across your entrance, ending with a teasing flick of his tongue against your clit. “So needy,” he repeats, his voice deceptively soft and bordering on a husky growl that sends shivers down your spine. 

And then his face disappears between your thighs entirely, his questing tongue dipping inside you with every slick motion. There is nothing soft or sweet in the way he eats you out, but that doesn’t stop your tummy from tensing or your thighs from clenching just a little tighter around his head.

A throaty chuckle escapes Jungkook when he feels you tighten around him—the sound rumbling straight to your core and drawing another gasp from your lips. Strong arms wind around your legs, hands settling on your knees to hold you open, and when you try to tilt your hips upward again you find that he’s rendered you entirely immobile, only able to take what he sees fit to give. “Jungkook, oh god—“

“How are you already this close?” the dark-haired young man murmurs in fascination, releasing your clit from his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. “I’ve barely touched you.”

You wriggle uselessly against his unrelenting grip, frowning when he doesn’t loosen up in the slightest. “And now you’re not touching me at all,” you grumble, petulant. “You getting tired on me, Jeon?”

Jungkook growls lowly at your provocation, dark eyes glinting. “Actually, I wanted you to cum on my cock instead of my tongue, but now I’m rethinking letting you cum at all,” he says, his tone surprisingly even despite the danger lurking in his gaze. “You wanna take that back, babe?”

“I don’t think you have any right to be threatening me when you’re that hard,” you retort, glancing pointedly down at the bulge straining against his faded jeans. Then your gaze wanders down further—past the thick muscle of his thighs and tight definition of his calves all the way to his feet, just hanging off the edge of the bed. “Hang on. Are… are you wearing Iron Man socks?”

The dark-haired young man flashes you a crooked little smirk and wiggles his toes in affirmation. “That a problem?” he asks.

You groan. “You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one who texted this nerd at midnight to come and fuck your brains out, so I wouldn’t be mouthing off if I were you.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “Better yet, why don’t you put that pretty little mouth to good use and wrap it around my cock?”

“Lose the socks first and I’ll consider it,” you reply, finally managing to free yourself from his firm hold.

Jungkook chortles, watching as you sit up. Slowly, he slides off the bed and straightens up to his full height, eyes never once leaving yours as he deliberately reaches down to pull off one red sock, then the other. Tossing them aside, he settles onto the bed again, lying back against the pillows scattered along the headboard and beckoning for you to join him with an outstretched finger. Obediently, you crawl over, pausing thoughtfully before throwing one leg over him and perching atop his strong, thick thighs. You find his belt buckle with deft fingers and practiced ease, a quiver of anticipation jolting through you when you finally free his erection from its denim prison.

“Fuck,” you breathe softly, not even realizing that you’re speaking aloud. It’s only when Jungkook chortles again that you realize your mistake, flushing as he tilts your chin up with his index finger.

“Trust me, I will be,” he assures as he reaches into his back pocket, amused gaze raking across your face before settling on your mouth. After a moment’s digging, confusion etches its way across his face, slowly morphing into despair when he rummages through his other pocket. “Shit. Do you have a condom?”

“Ran out last week,” you reply, taking perverse pleasure in the look of panicked anguish that creases his expression.

“Goddamnit. I thought I had one... Do you think the convenience store downstairs has any? I can run down and check—“

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a languid kiss before he can ramble his way off a cliff. Your thumb brushes across the head of his weeping cock, relishing the way he immediately twitches in your grasp. “I’m on birth control, you know,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to whisper the words against his lips. “And last I checked, we were both clean.”

His eyes widen to comic proportions, jaw slackening when he pieces together the meaning behind your words. “Do you mean—I mean, I can…?”

Smirking, you circle the tip of his dick with your thumb once more, spreading his slick precum over the head. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook breathes, awestruck. “Fuck, yes.” His hips stutter forward, seeking more friction, and you giggle as you obligingly wrap your hand more firmly around his length and give him a few good strokes. A hoarse groan escapes him at the added stimulation, and you break out into a satisfied grin when you notice just how prominent the vein in his neck is from the strained way he’s clenching his jaw. “Still want my mouth now, baby?” you murmur into his ear.

Jungkook lets out another groan when you flick the pad of your thumb over the head of his erection again. “T-tease,” he accuses, but there is no real bite in his tone. His hands curl around your hips, and your question is answered when he greedily pulls you closer, guiding your body until you can feel the velvety head of his cock slipping between your slick folds.

Still, you can’t help but torment him a little. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no’,” you murmur, trailing your hands down his chest and along the muscular ridges of his taut abdomen. The insubstantial touch draws a shiver from the man underneath you, his muscles twitching underneath your fingertips, and a pleased smirk stretches across your face when his hands tighten their hold on your hips.

And then, before he can even think to open his mouth to retort, you sink down onto his cock—all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion. The surge of fullness draws a moan from you, an answering groan leaving Jungkook’s parted lips when you immediately begin to move, raising yourself up only to sink back down again. “God, you’re so warm,” he sighs. “So warm and—nngh—so fucking wet. Christ. I’m never fucking you with a condom again.”

“Good,” you gasp, bouncing a little faster on top of him. Your ass meets the well-worn denim of his jean-clad thighs with every movement, and Jungkook lets loose another low groan when you reach up and rake your fingers down his chest, grazing across his nipples.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he encourages breathlessly, gazing up at you with darkened eyes. “Ride me, baby.” His fingers twitch against the supple skin of your waist, urging you to move even faster as he begins to snap his hips up in time with your thrusts.

A devilish whim strikes you then, a mischievous smirk stretching across your face as you immediately slow down your rhythm. “What makes you think you’re in control here, Jungkook?” you purr, grinding against him languidly. A shudder ripples through his body at the motion, sheer desperation seeping from every single pore.

“{Name},” he rasps, letting his hands flop down uselessly at his sides. His throat bobs as he tries to find the words to continue, and you stop moving entirely to watch his silent struggle.

“What is it, Jungkookie?” you tease, tracing the dips of his toned abdomen and grinning when he shivers under the insubstantial touch.

Jungkook swallows harshly, his breath stuttering in his throat before every ounce of desperation comes pouring out like a tidal wave. “Baby, please,” he entreaties, gazing up at you pleadingly with those wide doe eyes that are so incongruous with the rest of his body. “You look so good bouncing on my dick like that and I just… fuck. I wanna cum inside you so bad. I wanna cum inside you and fill you up all nice and pretty and—“

Whatever he was going to say is going to have to go unfinished, because you are surging forward to mold your mouth to his, desire flaring in your belly. Instinct has Jungkook snaking his arms around your waist to tug you flush against him, skin against skin as you deepen the kiss.

“Baby,” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to mumble the words against your mouth. “I need you to move, please.”

Obligingly, you grind down on him, once, an electric thrill running through you when he immediately lets out a hoarse groan. You’ve never been able to resist how vocal he is in bed, and you are quickly realizing that you are in no state to tease anymore—not with the heat in your belly flaring up to unbearable levels. Whimpering, you begin to rock harder against him, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders. You’re certain that your fingernails are digging vicious crescents into his honeyed skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, his eyes hooded and darker than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Oh god, Jungkook—“

“Fuck, {Name}.” Jungkook’s head falls back against your pillows, mussing his tousled hair even further. “Fuck, that’s it, right there. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like that. You feel so good clenching around me, baby.” The words escape him in a rush, and the deepness of his voice is enough to make you shiver. He’s rolling his hips in time with yours now, the mattress springs squeaking in protest under your combined weight. Every thrust sends electric warmth coursing through you, and when Jungkook’s hand darts between your thighs to rub at your clit you almost lose your balance, tilting dangerously on his lap.

“Oh god, fuck—“ Your vocabulary is steadily deteriorating, but the heat simmering in your belly is reaching unbearable levels, coiling tighter and tighter with every deliciously heavy drag of his cock along your walls. Sweat gathers at your temples and slicks your neck, and a glance down at the young man below you shows that he’s faring no better.

Jungkook is staring up at you, transfixed. His breathing is growing ragged, his chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat, but he is absolutely relentless in the way he touches you. In the months that you have slept together, he’s learned exactly what you like—and with a flick of his thumb and just the right amount of pressure you are sent spiraling off the edge, lost in a wave of pleasure. Even as you come back down from your high, he doesn’t falter, his thumb still drawing determined circles around your sensitive bud.

“Jungkook—“ His name is a whine on your lips.

“Come on, baby,” he rasps. “I know you can take it. Cum for me again—you’re so pretty when you cum.”

“Jungkook, I can’t—“ you protest, but the words have barely left your mouth before you are tensing again, leaving you to marvel at how well Jungkook knows your body. Any protests you might have had turn into a series of keening whimpers and moans, and he barrels over the edge right alongside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Distantly, you hear him grit out something that sounds suspiciously like your name as creamy heat floods through you, his body going lax underneath yours.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing. You are still straddling Jungkook’s denim-clad thighs with his dick softening inside you, and from the way his arms remain wound around you, he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon. He hasn’t even raised his head yet, drawing a shudder from you as his hot breath washes across your sweat-slicked skin.

“Cold?” he asks, and you can hear the amusement lacing his tone, feel the way his mouth curls into a smile against your clavicle.

“Sticky,” you say honestly.

Jungkook snorts out a laugh and finally lifts his head, brown eyes crinkled with amusement. “Good thing you have a bathroom and a working shower, then.”

“Both of which I will happily put to use once you let go of me, you big baby.” You tap his cheek playfully, coaxing him to loosen his hold on you before wriggling off his lap, wincing slightly when his cock slips out. Almost immediately, your combined juices begin dripping down your thighs, and the way Jungkook’s gaze immediately zeroes in on the glistening trails doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Interesting. “Jungkook?”

He blinks twice, rapidly, and looks up at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“You were staring,” you explain, casually reaching down and scooping up a bit of the sticky substance. Jungkook follows your every movement, never once wavering from the droplet of white sitting on your fingertip.

“I—“ He clears his throat and tries again. “I was thinking about something.”

“Oh?” You cock a brow before raising your finger to your lips, delighting in the way his eyes grow even bigger. Without breaking eye contact, you open your mouth and touch the pad of your finger to your tongue, relishing the salty tang and the positively ravenous expression that overtakes Jungkook’s face. “What were you thinking about, baby?”

His gaze turns positively lurid, pure desire flashing in his dark irises. “I was thinking about making you gather up all that cum on those fingers of yours,” he growls, a thrill running down your spine as his voice drops an octave. “And watching as you push it all back inside that pretty little pussy.”

Arousal flares up in your core once more, but you tamp it down in favor of smirking coyly at him and scooting forward until you’re kneeling between his spread legs. “I’m sure we can make that happen,” you purr, leaning in and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sharp curve of his jaw. Then you pull back and stand up from the bed, taking perverse delight in the confused frown that crosses Jungkook’s face as you make to walk toward the bathroom. “But right now, all I want is a hot shower.”

A hand on your arm stops you in your tracks. Turning around, you find yourself staring down at Jungkook once more, heat flaring in your tummy when you notice the residual hunger still lingering in his gaze. But when he speaks, his voice is back at its usual pitch, soft and pleasantly melodious. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not if you’re just planning on fucking me against the shower wall,” you say dryly. “That thing’s freezing, you know.”

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth as he stands up, tucking his spent cock back into his jeans for the sake of propriety. “I won’t, I promise. At least, not this time.” Then he breaks into a grin, his prominent teeth on full display. “Not sure I can even get it up again right now, to be honest. Hobi’s working us into the ground for this showcase. I’m fucking beat.”

The snarky retort in your head dies on your lips when you take a good, hard look at him—noting the bags under his eyes and the crease between his brows. You know that his dance crew—Neuron—is putting on their end-of-the-year showcase in just a few days. It’s a highly-anticipated event every year, and a welcome break from the stress of finals, but up until now you’d never really thought about how taxing it must be for the dancers. “Kook,” you begin, trailing off uncertainly when you realize you have absolutely no idea what to say.

“I’m fine,” he says, brushing you off with another smile. “Come on, let’s go shower.”

Dazedly, you allow him to guide you into the adjoining bathroom with a hand at the small of your back. He shucks off his jeans as you climb into the shower and turn on the water, joining you underneath the spray once it’s reached a comfortable temperature. Silently, you reach for the soap, watching as Jungkook grabs the travel-sized bottle of shampoo that he’s taken to keeping at your place. A few months into your arrangement and after many a late night rendezvous, you’d both agreed that it’d be far more convenient if he had some basic necessities here. And so, small bottles of Jungkook’s shampoo and body wash joined yours on the shelf, an extra towel hanging on the rod and ready for his use. Sometimes, he even joked that he should bring his razor, just in case he wound up staying the night.

But he never did, and you never asked. Somehow, it felt like crossing a line—and jeopardizing your friendly arrangement with the dark-haired young man is the last thing you want. Besides, you like having your bed to yourself, and Jungkook definitely seems like the type to sprawl out like a starfish in his sleep.

“Pass me the—?”

The last half of his request is lost to you in the sound of running water. “Huh?”

“The soap,” Jungkook repeats patiently, gently prying the slippery bar from between your fingers. “You were done, right?”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Gesturing for him to take your place under the spray, you begin lathering your hair with shampoo. Quietly, the two of you finish washing up, Jungkook turning off the water while you step out, grabbing your towel and tossing him his. Drying off your hair quickly, you wrap the soft cloth around your body and meander back into your bedroom in search for your pajamas.

By the time you manage to locate clean underwear and a large shirt to sleep in, Jungkook is stepping out of the bathroom, buttoning his jeans and buckling his belt. “Have you seen my shirt?” he asks.

Glancing around, you spot it lying near your desk. As you pick it up, your open chemistry book from earlier catches your attention, reminding you that you still have a few chapters’ worth of material to cram on tomorrow. “Here,” you say distractedly, tossing the white tee in his direction. He catches it deftly, smoothing out the wrinkled cotton before pulling it over his head.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you reply, still staring at your chemistry book and your scattered notes. “Don’t forget your bag on the way out.”

A beat of silence. Then Jungkook huffs, drawing your attention back to him. “What, not even gonna walk me to the door?”

You raise a brow. “What, did you forget where it is?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says solemnly. “Your tiny, one-bedroom apartment is a fucking labyrinth.”

Rolling your eyes, you gesture for him to follow you out and into the hallway. “You’re a dumbass,” you tell him, picking up his bag from the floor and shoving it into his waiting arms. “There. Happy?”

Jungkook slings the duffel over his shoulder. “Satisfied.”

You can only roll your eyes again, reaching for the doorknob and wrenching it open. “Whatever floats your boat, Kook. Now go away, I need to get some sleep.”

He rakes a hand through his damp hair and shoots you a playful wink. “Why sleep? Let me stay, and I’ll prove that there are way better things to do in a bed.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up from your chest, and Jungkook grins, looking very pleased with himself. “True as that may be,” you concede, “I have a final tomorrow and I still have studying to do.”

“Who’s the nerd now?” Jungkook quips, earning himself a sharp elbow in the ribs and a very unladylike snort from you.

“Still you, Iron Man wannabe.”

He snickers. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe. See you later?”

“Later,” you agree. Jungkook offers you one last grin before turning to leave, and you watch as he jabs the elevator button a few times before remembering that it’s out of order and walking over to the stairs instead. “Oh, and Jungkook?”

The dark-haired young man turns to regard you curiously, his hand on the doorknob of the stairwell entrance. “Yeah?”

You take in the creases of exhaustion lining his face, suddenly wishing that you could smooth them away with your fingertips. “Don’t work yourself too hard, okay?”

A grin splits across his face, breathtaking and brilliant. “Okay.”

///

You are in the middle of haphazardly shoving every notebook you own into your bag when your phone goes off, the vibration unnaturally loud in the silence of your bedroom. Grabbing the device off your nightstand, you glance at the screen, a laugh escaping when you read the message displayed there.

[11:37am] Jungkook: if I die in the next few days just know that Jung Hoseok is the murderer

Another message pops up below it just moments later:

[11:37am] Jungkook: I’m serious. He may look all innocent and happy but the guy’s a stone cold killer. Might kill jimin too while I’m at it, he’s just as bad sometimes

[11:38am] You: So dance practice is going well then

[11:38am] Jungkook: clearly lmao

[11:38am] Jungkook: anyway what are you up to?

You giggle. Obviously, he only wants to know whether or not you’re available for a romp in the sheets—maybe put his newly-discovered cum kink into action. At the thought, the ravenous expression he’d eyed you with last night springs to the forefront of your mind and you have to blink a few times to dispel the image.

[11:39am] You: Sorry babe, got my chem final in half an hour

His response is immediate.

[11:39am] Jungkook: fuck, that’s the one you’re really worried about isn’t it?

Surprised, you read his message twice before typing out an answer.

[11:40am] You: Yeah. You remembered that?

[11:40am] Jungkook: hey I may not be as smart as you but I do know some things

And then:

[11:41am] Jungkook: good luck, you’ll do great

Warmth bubbles up in your belly, winding through your ribcage and settling around your heart. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you sling your bag over your shoulder before heading out, his words echoing in your head. You’ll do great.

You hope he’s right.

///

“So, how was it?”

You shrug out of your jacket, letting it crumple carelessly onto the chair before taking a seat and fixing your best friend with a mock glare. “Jesus, can’t I at least sit down before you start the interrogation?”

Jisoo laughs and raises her mug of coffee to her mouth, batting her lashes innocently at you from behind it. “Who said this was an interrogation? If it were, I’d be harassing you about finally getting off your sorry ass and dating Jeon Jungkook already.”

“We are not going over this again,” you sigh, exasperated. “We’re just having fun and blowing off some steam, that’s all.”

“Right,” Jisoo says, setting down her coffee and fixing you with a knowing stare. “And you totally don’t have the hots for him, and he definitely doesn’t have the hots for you. Are you fucking blind, {Name}?”

You huff. “My vision is fine, thank you very much. And I don’t have the hots for Jungkook.”

Jisoo just laughs again, delicately selecting another sugar packet and tearing it open. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetie. But, fine, all right. Back to my original question, then: how was your final?”

Relief floods through you at the return of a subject you’re comfortable with. “It was okay, I think. What about yours? You had bio this morning, right?”

“Yeah.” Jisoo stirs her drink thoughtfully, lips pursed. “I think it went all right. I’m ready for the weekend to get here, though.”

“We’re almost there. Tomorrow’s Friday,” you say kindly before snatching her cup away and helping yourself to a sip. She squeals in protest and you laugh, returning the mug to its proper place by her elbow after another generous swallow of coffee. “You going to Neuron’s showcase on Saturday?”

“I don’t know anyone who isn’t going,” she replies with a pointed look, daintily picking up her mug and moving it out of your reach. “And you have to go. Support your boyfriend, and all that.”

“Not my boyfriend,” you say automatically.

“Not yet,” Jisoo corrects with a wry laugh. “Mark my words, {Name}, it’s going to happen sooner or later. You two already act like a couple anyway, so would it really be a big deal if you actually started dating him? Jungkook’s a great guy.”

“I know he is,” you sigh. “Which is exactly why I’m not going to risk our friendship by trying to make it into something more. Besides, he doesn’t want a relationship either.”

Jisoo rolls her eyes. “Maybe not when you first met,” she concedes. “But a lot of things can change in a year, {Name}.”

“Not this,” you say stubbornly. “Not us.”

///

Three hours later, you are curled up on your couch with textbooks strewn around you, soft classical music floating from the speakers of the laptop balanced precariously on the armrest. A fresh notebook lays open on your lap, your pen scratching away as you slowly transcribe your electronic notes onto paper. The longer you work, however, the more the words on the screen begin to blur. After a fruitless minute of watching the black text swim unsteadily in front of your eyes, you heave a sigh and let your pen drop to the ground with a clatter.

Standing up, you are about to wander into the kitchen for a snack when there’s a knock on your door. Curiously, you approach and peer out the peephole, a smile breaking across your face when you see who is standing on the threshold. “Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask, swinging the door open to receive him.

Said man grins, raising a cardboard box in one hand and a tray with two paper cups in the other. “I come bearing gifts: pizza, coffee, and my dick if you want it,” he announces grandly, sweeping his arms out in a dramatic arc and sending the delicious smell of greasy cheese wafting your way.

You can only laugh at his dramatic declaration, gesturing for him to come in. “My three favorite things in one place? You’re a lifesaver, Kook.”

“Sure am,” he agrees cheerfully, following you into the kitchen and setting the food down on the counter. Immediately, you dive into the pizza box, ripping it open and tearing away a slice of cheesy goodness. Sinking your teeth in, you practically moan with delight, and Jungkook can only look on with amusement as he selects a piece for himself. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, then,” he remarks dryly, watching as you inhale the remainder of the slice.

You reach for one of the cups, washing down the grease with several gulps of hot coffee. “Considering how empty my refrigerator is right now, your guess is absolutely correct.”

Curiously, Jungkook opens the door of your fridge and pokes his head inside. “Have you considered maybe going grocery shopping to fix that problem?” he asks, voice echoing inside the cool space.

“I don’t have time,” you reply, ripping off another slice of pizza and taking an enormous bite.

“I don’t have time,” the dark-haired man mimics in a high-pitched warble, shutting the refrigerator door and joining you at the counter once more. “What’s with the pencil?”

You blink up at him, utterly bemused by the random question. “What?”

Jungkook reaches up, warm fingers brushing against your cheek as he tugs a yellow number two pencil from behind your ear. “This. Who the fuck still uses these? Everyone knows that mechanical pencils are way better.”

“Hey!” you protest. “They’re perfectly good pencils, and I like them!” Jumping up, you try to snatch the pencil away, but Jungkook only holds it up and out of your reach, his chest rumbling with laughter when you flounder against his taller frame uselessly. Pouting, you give him your most pitiful look, complete with fluttering eyelashes and clasped hands. “Jungkook, please give it back? I’ve been searching for it all afternoon!”

He cocks his head, lowering it slowly into your grasp. “All afternoon? Aren’t you done with your chem final?” Then something seems to click, his eyes narrowing. “You’re still studying?”

You drop your petulant expression and raise a brow, tucking the pencil back behind your ear for safekeeping. “I do have more than one final exam, you know.”

That earns you an eye-roll. “You work too hard.”

Before you can think of an adequate retort, Jungkook wolfs down the remainder of his pizza and grabs the open box. Walking out of your tiny kitchen, he starts in the direction of your living room before backtracking and poking his head back around the doorway.

“Grab the coffee, will you?” he asks between chews, his cheeks puffy.

“Ew, swallow before you speak, you heathen,” you reply, wrinkling your nose in distaste. Nevertheless, you pick up the two cups and follow your companion to the couch, watching as he carefully gathers your strewn notes into neat piles. You move your laptop—still playing soft strains of Stravinsky—to the coffee table, snatching up another slice of pizza before plopping down onto the couch. “So, what brings you to my humble abode?” you inquire curiously, glancing at the dark-haired  man who is making himself comfortable on the other end of the couch. “Besides trying to force your dick on me, that is.”

“Hey, I’ve never forced it on anyone,” Jungkook defends immediately. “Besides, you just told me that my dick is one of your three favorite things. No take-backsies.”

“No take-backsies?” you ask in disbelief. “Jesus, I can’t believe you just said that. Remind me why the fuck I’m sleeping with you again?”

“Because you need regular orgasms, and I’m willing and able to deliver,” Jungkook says smugly, munching on his pizza crust.

You snort, thwacking him on the arm. “Oh, please. This is a mutually beneficial relationship and you know it.”

He simply cackles in response, plucking up another cheesy slice before relaxing back against the cushions and slinging an arm over the backrest. The two of you eat in amicable silence for a few minutes with Tchaikovsky playing from your laptop speakers, the music broken only by the sound of soft chewing and the occasional sip of coffee.

It’s comfortable—spending time with Jungkook like this. In the last year, he’s rooted himself firmly in your life and your heart, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s become one of your closest friends. He’s kind, dependable, and ridiculously handsome—even with his cheeks bulging and pizza grease staining his chin. His sense of humor meshes perfectly with yours, and he knows your body almost better than you do. Just the thought of losing him is devastating—which is why you repress the tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that you’re already in too deep, and will your heart back into a regular rhythm whenever he looks at you with too much warmth sparkling in the brown of his eyes.

You’re friends. Just friends. Neither of you have the time—or the desire—for anything more.

“Hey, I never asked—how was your test?”

The soft question pulls you out of your reverie. “What?”

“Earth to {Name},” Jungkook says with a laugh, waving a hand in front of your eyes. “Your chem final, dummy. How’d it go?”

“Oh.” You think back to the two-hour exam, a frown pulling at your lips. “It was… all right, I think.”

“All right?” Jungkook echoes skeptically, raising a brow. “You really should give yourself more credit—you worked your ass off studying for that final.”

“I know,” you sigh, letting your head fall back against the cushions and staring up at the hairline crack running along the ceiling. “I just don’t feel like I did enough.”

Jungkook takes another bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “Were there any questions you didn’t know how to answer?”

“No,” you admit.

He chuckles and pokes your cheek gently, making you look at him. “Then you’re fine! Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, retaliating by flicking his nose. “I’ve seen you during dance practice. You’re just as bad as I am.”

Jungkook wags a knowing finger. “But unlike you, I know when to take a break. Like right now, for example.” Grabbing the pizza box from the coffee table, he extends it to you like a peace offering. “Here. Eat the last slice and relax a little.”

You stare down at the remaining wedge, surprise etching its way across your face. “You… you don’t want it?”

He shrugs. “Nah, I’ve already had four. Besides, I’m not that hungry.”

“Jungkook, I’ve seen you put away an entire family-size bag of chips and six cups of ramen as an afternoon snack,” you point out. “On multiple occasions. There’s no way you’re not hungry.”

A huff of laughter escapes him, lips curling up into a grin that shows his prominent teeth. “Fine, you got me. Split it?”

“I’ll get a knife,” you agree, moving to stand up, but Jungkook wraps a strong hand around your wrist and stops you in your tracks.

“Why bother?” he asks, chomping off the slice’s pointed tip before handing it to you. “We can just take turns. It’s not like we haven’t exchanged bodily fluids before.”

You splutter out an incredulous laugh, but accept the pizza nonetheless. “Why are you so disgusting?”

“Hey, sex is a beautiful and natural thing!” Jungkook protests, a satisfied grin crinkling his face when you laugh again. “And we’re pretty damn good at it.”

You shake your head when he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, still chuckling. “You’re not gonna talk me into getting dicked down tonight, Jeon. I still have studying to do.” Taking one final bite of pizza, you extend it back toward your companion. “Here, finish this.”

Jungkook accepts the half-eaten slice and takes a bite. “Didn’t I just spend the last half hour telling you to stop studying?”

“Yes,” you say, standing up to collect the empty box and cups. Your companion trails you into the kitchen with crust still dangling from his mouth, watching as you break down the cardboard and shove it in the trash bin. “And I didn’t study for that whole half hour, so technically I did as you said and took a break.”

“Thazznawdalonnh,” Jungkook says around a mouthful of dough. You raise your eyebrows at him, and a smile twitches at the corner of his lips as he swallows and tries again. “That’s not that long. Of a break, I mean. Aren’t the rest of your exams next week anyway?”

“Yeah, but I have a lab report due tomorrow,” you reply, brushing past him to return to the living room. “Which I’ve barely started, thanks to today’s exam.” Collapsing back onto the couch, you gather up your notes and plop your laptop down onto your lap, waking up the screen. Your music resumes playing as you open up a fresh document, and Jungkook joins you a few seconds later with his black duffel in hand, dropping it on the ground as he takes a seat. You glance at him curiously as he begins pulling books from within, setting them on the coffee table before taking out his own laptop and booting it up. “Kook? What are you doing?”

He opens up one of the notebooks, his forehead creasing in concentration as he skims the contents within. “Studying, what else? I have finals too, you know.”

“But you never study,” you protest, confused.

He glances up, one dark eyebrow disappearing into his hair. “It’s cute that you think I’m some kind of academic whiz, babe, but unfortunately I’m not. Now hush, I’m trying to read.”

With that, he immerses himself back in his book, but you don’t miss the tiny smile that lingers on his lips. Shaking your head, you turn back to your own laptop and begin typing, the clatter of your keyboard and the rustling of Jungkook’s notes melding perfectly with the dulcet sounds of Vivaldi.

///

Friday afternoon finds you at the library, hunched over your laptop at a tiny, secluded table shoved halfway behind a shelf full of geography books. You’ve been sitting in the same place for nearly five hours now, and the hushed, monotonous atmosphere is beginning to drive you insane. Exhaling heavily, you let your head drop, hitting the table with a quiet thunk.

Unbidden, Jungkook’s face materializes in your mind’s eye. Tousled black hair falls into a face crinkled with mirth, his laughter clear and melodious as he lounges on the couch beside you, cracking inane jokes. You imagine the shape of his grinning mouth and scrunched nose, picture the way his eyes crease into crescents.

And then the image shifts. Jungkook’s eyes darken, his body shifting closer. You can feel the warmth of his lips on yours, imagine the exact way he would slip his hand into the waistband of your panties. There’s a damp spot growing in your actual panties by this point, and as your thoughts turn increasingly sordid, you find yourself scrambling for your phone and pulling up your messages.

[6:46pm] You: I wish I’d taken you up on your offer last night

Putting down the device, you try to refocus your attention on your notes as you wait for him to respond. After a few minutes of unsuccessful reading and no new messages, however, you grow impatient.

[6:49pm] You: all I can think about right now is how good you feel inside me

[6:49pm] You: And how I should’ve crawled onto your lap and sat on your cock yesterday

This time, your phone buzzes with an incoming text before you can even set it down.

[6:49pm] Jungkook: wow babe

[6:49pm] Jungkook: you’re really missing me huh? Fuck I wish I were there right now

His words stoke the fire inside you, pure want simmering in your belly and trickling down to your core.

[6:50pm] You: then come find me. I’m on the 4th floor of the library, what’s stopping you?

[6:50pm] Jungkook: Ugh, I have practice. I’m gonna kill Hoseok and Jimin I swear

Three dots appear at the bottom of your screen, indicating that he’s still typing. And then his new message pops up, the words sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

[6:50pm] Jungkook: god I wanna be inside you so bad

You can no longer contain your smirk, devious fingers already typing out an incendiary answer. Want you inside me too, baby. I’m so wet right now, you have no idea. I’m thinking about going into the bathroom and touching myself.

Almost immediately after pressing ‘send’, you see the telltale ellipses spring up at the bottom of your screen.

[6:51pm] Jungkook: fuck. Fuck fuck fuck

[6:51pm] Jungkook: you absolute goddamn tease

[6:51pm] Jungkook: do it. I dare you.

Your smirk widens, turning downright sinful. Oh, baby, I already am, you reply. Not quite true, perhaps, but you waste no time between pressing send and standing up, winding your way through the maze of bookshelves to the restroom on the other side of the library. It is thankfully empty upon arrival, and you immediately lock yourself in the stall furthest from the entrance, leaning against the door and checking your phone for Jungkook’s response. Right away, you realize that it must be a long message, because the preview on your lockscreen cuts off mid-sentence. And when you finally unlock the device and open up the full text, a delighted peal of laughter bubbles up from your chest and escapes into the open air.

[6:52pm] Jungkook: no you’re not. Are you? Jesus. fuck babe, you’re killing me. You’ve somehow beat jung hoseok to murdering me and now I must be in hell because all I want is to go over there and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name

[6:52pm] Jungkook: are you really in the bathroom right now??

Still giggling, you open up your camera, angling the screen so that it captures the telltale navy walls of the stall you’re standing in. Adopting a mischievous smirk, you tug your bottom lip coyly between your teeth and hike the hem of your shirt up to expose a tantalizing flash of skin. Your free hand snakes into the waistband of your jeans, now unbuttoned just enough to see a glimpse of the lace underneath. Snapping the photo, you send it off with just one sentence: What do you think?

His response is near instantaneous.

[6:54pm] Jungkook: damn it

[6:54pm] Jungkook: you’re really trying to ruin me aren’t you

He really is far too easy to rile up sometimes, you think with a grin. But you certainly aren’t complaining—not when heat is still curling in the pit of your tummy and the spot on your panties is growing increasingly damp. I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I do know that your fingers would feel so much better than mine right now.

[6:54pm] Jungkook: fuck, baby. Tell me what you’re doing

You wriggle your jeans down your hips and let your fingers trail downward, drawing light circles around your lace-covered clit. Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do instead?

[6:55pm] Jungkook: so that’s how you wanna play, huh

[6:55pm] Jungkook: i like your panties, by the way. sexy. why don’t you slip your hand inside them and touch your clit for me?

Your breath catches in your throat when you follow his directions, the pads of your fingers sliding through the gathered slickness between your thighs with ease.

[6:55pm] Jungkook: are you pretending it’s my hand instead?

[6:55pm] You: of course

And it’s true. You can picture the wicked tilt of his lips, can practically feel the warmth of his body caging you against the cool wall, one hand anchoring at your hip while the other rubs hard circles against your sensitive bud.

[6:56pm] Jungkook: good. god, I wish I were there. Slide two fingers into that sweet little pussy of yours and pretend it’s my cock filling you up instead

Clearly, Jungkook is in no mood to tease. Exhaling shakily, you do as he commands, savoring the feeling of your walls molding to the shape of your fingers. You dig in as deep as possible, head falling back against the wall as you raise your phone again.

[6:56pm] You: now what?

[6:56pm] Jungkook: move them. Slowly. And tell me what you’re thinking about

Your mental picture of the dark-haired man returns, imaginary hands sliding down to cup the sumptuous curve of your bottom as he lifts you effortlessly and pins you in place with his hips.

[6:57pm] You: thinking about you pinning me against the wall of this stall

[6:57pm] You: your pretty cock stretching me open

Letting out a soft whimper, you pick up the pace, thumb flicking over your clit in frenzied strokes. The coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

[6:57pm] Jungkook: fuck, babe. What else?

[6:58pm] You: ypour mouth on my neck

[6:58pm] Jungkook: want me to bruise you up all nice and pretty? Mark you as mine?

You barely manage to type out a coherent answer.

[6:58pm] You: g od yess

[6:59pm] You: nd fill me up with your cum

[6:59pm] Jungkook: christ. You filthy thing. You perfect pretty little tease, I’m gonna have you six ways from sunday when i get my hands on you

[6:59pm] Jungkook: fuck. I gotta go hobi’s starting warmups and I’m still half hard

[7:00pm] Jungkook: talk to you later. Think of me when you cum, okay?

His last few messages arrive in quick succession, a disbelieving huff escaping your lips when you read through them. Your orgasm—so close just moments ago—suddenly seems miles away. But his last message is still lighting up the screen of your phone, and so, with the thought of a half-hard Jungkook in mind, you let your fantasy take over again.

If Jungkook were here, he would be pressing even more urgently against you, hips snapping against yours as his thumb rubs hard circles into your clit. His mouth would be brushing along the column of your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin of your collarbone and the sensitive spot just below your ear. His thrusts would become sloppy as he nears the edge, and—

—It’s not the most satisfying orgasm you’ve ever had, pressed up against the metal wall of your university library’s bathroom, but it’s enough for now.

Besides, you still have a lab report to finish.

///

Ten o’clock comes and goes. Your keyboard clatters underneath your fingertips as you put the finishing touches on your report, scanning your conclusion for any errors before leaning back with a relieved sigh. It takes only a few more seconds to save your work and send the document to your professor. By the time you pack up your materials and head for the library doors—shooting an sympathetic look at any stragglers who remain—it’s ten-fifteen, and you are more than ready to head home and crawl underneath the fluffiest blanket you own.

Stepping outside, you suppress a shiver. Even though it’s springtime, the evenings are still rather chilly once the sun sets, and you curse when you realize you’ve forgotten to bring a sweater. Hiking your bag a little higher on your shoulder, you steel yourself for the trek back to your apartment. Every breeze raises gooseflesh on your skin, but you just walk faster, thinking about the hot cocoa packets stuffed away in one of your kitchen cabinets.

As you turn the corner, the performing arts building comes into view, glimmering in the darkness like a beacon. Low music thumps from within, and you wonder briefly at the sound before remembering Jungkook’s recent complaints about his long hours spent at the dance studio. Curiosity overcomes you and draws you closer, the music growing louder as soon as you step inside the building. Following the sound to a set of double doors at the very end of a dimly-lit hall, you debate briefly whether or not to knock before throwing all caution to the wind and pushing open the unlocked door.

The first sight that greets you is yourself, reflected in the long paneled mirror that stretches the length of the entire wall. A few chairs line the perimeter of the room and you immediately spot Jungkook’s duffel bag sitting on top of one of them, the sleeve of one of his many black sweatshirts poking out from the unzipped opening. The man himself is on the other end of the room, flanked on either side by two figures you recognize as Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok. None of them have noticed your presence yet—all three are immersed in the low, seductive beat still pounding from the speakers, perfectly in sync as they dance. Every movement is mesmerizing, flowing easily into the next as Jimin takes a running start and leaps over Jungkook to take center stage for his solo.

“Okay—cut!” Hoseok calls, raising a hand. “That was a lot better, nice job. Jungkook, just be sure to watch your hand movements during that last eight; you’re faltering a little when Jimin jumps. And Jimin, you’re still hesitating half a beat before the jump, so just speed that up and we should be good.”

Jimin nods wearily, raking his blond hair out of his face. “Got it.” Behind him, Jungkook stares at his hands for a full five seconds before repeating the section of the dance that Hoseok had specified, his shoes squeaking in protest against the hardwood.

Hoseok eyes him critically. “Yeah, that looks good. Cool. Should we run through the last song again?”

“Honestly, Hobi, I think we’re all pretty beat,” Jimin says, his head lolling against his shoulder. “We’ve been at this for over three hours now.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, swinging his arms overhead and shaking out his muscles. “Yeah, I think it might be time to call it quits for the day.” Then his gaze flickers up, catching sight of your reflection in the mirrors. “{Name}?”

Your face flushes at being caught. “H-hey.”

His mouth lifts into a smile, tired but bright. “Hey yourself. Waiting for me?”

You glance at Hoseok and Jimin before returning your attention to the dark-haired man. “Just poking my head in. I don’t want to interrupt or rush you, or anything.”

Hoseok grins, shaking his head. “Nah, you’re fine. I think we’re pretty much done here, anyway. We’ll just grab some water and cool down, and then you’re free to take him for the night.” He claps Jungkook on the back, and the two of them head for the water cooler in the corner of the room, conversing quietly.

Jimin chooses that moment to step forward, flashing you a crooked smirk. “Take him for the night, huh? Lucky guy, getting to go home with such a pretty girl.” He eyes you up and down, making no move to hide it, and you raise a brow at his boldness. The blond-haired man is a notorious playboy—well-known around campus for his various escapades and his reputation as a heartbreaker—but you’re still rather surprised that he’d hit on you so blatantly with Hoseok and Jungkook still in the room.

“Settle down, Park. Don’t you have some stretches to be doing?” You nod at Hoseok, who is now seated on the floor and reaching for his toes.

The blond man grins. “The only kind of stretch I want to be doing is stretching you open with my co—“

“You sure you want to finish that sentence?” A heavy weight settles across your shoulders, and you turn to see that Jungkook has draped his arm over you, his dark eyes glittering.

Jimin has the audacity to laugh aloud, honey brown eyes crinkling into gleeful crescents. “What? Can’t handle a little competition, Jungkookie?”

The dark-haired man rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Jimin.”

“Fuck off?” Jimin steps closer, tilting his head in a perfect picture of mock innocence as his fingers find your chin, forcing your gazes to meet. “From what I recall, {Name} definitely wanted to be fucked earlier. What were her exact words—oh, something about a pretty cock stretching her open?” A grin splits across his face, wide and mischievous. “And believe me, princess, I’ve been told I have a very pretty cock.”

Jungkook’s eyes grow wide, abject horror painted across every feature. “What the fuck, Jimin? How—how the fuck did you…?!” His spluttering trails off into dismayed silence, his breathing quick and sharp.

You, however, do not hesitate to wrench away from Jimin’s grasp, your open palm colliding with the soft flesh of his cheek. The slap echoes in the empty silence of the dance studio, and Jimin touches the angry red handprint on his face gingerly before smirking up at you.

“Feisty, huh? That’s okay, I don’t mind it a little rough.”

It’s probably a good thing that Hoseok is already gone, because the litany of curses that leaves Jungkook’s mouth is surely something that would get him in trouble with the red-haired dance captain. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jimin, what the hell is wrong with you? And why the fuck were you reading my goddamn texts?!”

Jimin finally takes a step back, the salacious smirk dropping off his face as he puts his hands up in surrender. “To be fair, I didn’t mean to,” he says. “But you were being weird, sitting by yourself in the corner before practice started, so I got curious. And then I saw your phone’s screen in the mirror, and—“

“Shit, the mirrors,” Jungkook interrupts, sounding utterly defeated. “Goddamnit. Fuck, {Name}, I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Kook,” you reassure, patting his shoulder gently. “Park, here, on the other hand…”

The blond-haired man at least has the decency to look somewhat abashed. “I am sorry, just for the record. I really didn’t mean to read your messages, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad I did.” Jimin grins, boldly shooting you a flagrant wink and a smirk. “My offer still stands, you know, if Jeon isn’t up to the task tonight.”

Jungkook’s arm tightens around you. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one day, Park?”

Jimin throws his head back and laughs, far too hard for your liking. “What’s the matter, Jungkook? Afraid I’ll get her off faster than you?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Jungkook’s eyes narrow to slits, and you watch as his mouth twists into a dangerous scowl. “In your dreams, asshat.”

“In my dreams?” Jimin chuckles, stepping forward and throwing a jovial arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. “Doesn’t have to be.” Then he turns to you, shooting you another wink. “What do you say, princess? Care to find out who can make you feel better?”

It should be easy to say no—should be simple to tell Jimin to go fuck himself and go home with Jungkook as you have so many times before. But there’s a tingle in the pit of your belly, something dark and insatiable that croons obscene suggestions that refuse to be drowned out by logic or reason. Beside you, Jungkook’s jaw is clenched, and you recognize the competitive glint burning in his gaze immediately. The dark-haired young man isn’t one to back away from a challenge, and you know from experience just how easy it can be to rile him up. And it seems Jimin knows it, too, if the triumphant smirk on his face is anything to go by.

“{Name},” Jungkook says, releasing you from his hold only to spin you toward him and cup your cheeks instead. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I can just take you home—“

You cut him off with a finger, pressing insistently against his soft lips. “Take me home,” you murmur. “But we’re bringing this fucker along, too. I bet he’s all talk.” You nod in Jimin’s direction.

Jungkook’s face dissolves into mirth, a hearty cackle escaping his lips. “You know what? So do I.” He turns to the other man, quirking a brow. “Well? You still coming?”

Jimin grins. “I think we’ll all be coming tonight.”

“No thanks to you,” Jungkook quips, grinning when you giggle. Then he’s strolling off to grab his bag, with Jimin following suit and gathering up his belongings as well. As he bends down to pick his water bottle up from the ground, you can’t help but check him out—something he notices right away and remarks upon with a sly grin once he straightens up again.

“Enjoying the view, princess?”

Warmth blossoms across your cheeks. “I’m just trying to see what all the girls see in you.”

Jimin steps forward, stopping only when he’s mere inches away. “And?” he breathes.

This close to him, you can see the flecks of amber dancing in his honey brown irises. “Not impressed,” you lie.

The amused tilt of his head makes it clear that he doesn’t believe you, and you flush when his hand comes up to pat your cheek. “You’re cute,” he chuckles, brushing the pad of his thumb along the skin below your right eye. Then he turns away and begins shoving the rest of his things in his bag, whistling cheerily under his breath.

“Thanks, I think,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“You’re welcome, I guess?”

Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, two strong arms winding their way around your waist and tugging you into a warm, familiar chest. “Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, you know,” he murmurs into your ear, hot breath caressing your neck as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Good thing I was talking to Jimin, then,” you whisper back, craning your head so that you can look him in the eye.

He hums. “So you’re getting along.”

“As much as a girl can actually get along with Park Jimin,” you reply with a laugh. “Hey, you ready to go?”

He nods, dark hair bobbing. “Yeah.” Releasing you from his embrace, he keeps one arm slung around your waist as he turns toward the door, Jimin sauntering up to join you on your other side. Together the three of you head for the building’s exit, and when Jungkook pushes open the front door with his free hand, you shiver at the sudden burst of chilly air.

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out the black sweatshirt you’d spotted earlier, releasing his grip on your waist to drape it over your shoulders. You thank him with a smile, slipping your arms into the sleeves and giggling at how it dwarfs your smaller frame. Jungkook seizes the opportunity to playfully pull the hood over your head, tugging it down until it covers your eyes and breaking out into laughter when you whack him with your overly long sleeves in retaliation. With him distracted and you temporarily blind, neither of you see the knowing smile that curls Jimin’s lips.

The remainder of the walk to your apartment passes in mostly companionable silence. Jungkook and Jimin occasionally fall to bickering, but despite the high tensions earlier, it’s clear that the two are good friends. And you’re more than happy to walk between them quietly, bundled in Jungkook’s warm sweatshirt and listening to them talk about their upcoming performance.

“I don’t know, man, I always feel off during that second song,” Jungkook says, raking a hand through his hair and ruffling it even further. “I just can’t seem to get into the right rhythm.”

Jimin snickers and shoots you a sideways glance. “I hope you have better rhythm with {Name}, otherwise this night is going to be very disappointing.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jungkook snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m being serious, here.”

“Okay, you want me to be serious?” Jimin asks, reaching over and giving the younger man a reproving nudge. “You’re not off; you’re just getting in your own head.”

“That sounds like Kook,” you pipe up, pulling out your keys as your apartment complex comes into view. “Instead of getting in your own head, why don’t you relax and let me give you head?”

Jimin lets out a delighted laugh and raises his hand for a high-five, which you happily give him as the three of you step into the lobby of your building. “That was fucking amazing,” he declares, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Absolutely incredible. I think I just fell in love.”

On your other side, Jungkook is shaking his head in exasperation, mumbling something about god there’s two of them under his breath while jabbing the elevator button. The three of you pile inside as soon as it arrives, with Jimin still chortling quietly at your joke.

Jungkook takes the lead when the elevator doors slide open again, gently prying your keys from your hand. Striding down the hall, he comes to a stop in front of your door and shifts his gaze to you. His brown eyes regard you carefully, and you know that this is his way of giving you one last chance to say no.

But you don’t want to say no. Heat has been simmering in your belly ever since you left the dance studio, and now that your front door is the only obstacle between you and whatever the night may bring, it flares up, growing hotter and more insistent. You meet Jungkook’s gaze and nod.

He inclines his head and inserts the key into the lock, turning until it clicks. The door swings open.

The atmosphere shifts as soon as you cross the threshold, all jokes and jabs dissipating to leave only a thick, palpable tension. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment when Jungkook’s gaze darkened into obsidian or when Jimin’s hand found its way to the curve of your ass. All you know is that the air is positively crackling with hidden energy, sizzling and electric, and that the two men on either side of you are undoubtedly the source.

Jungkook kisses you first. His mouth brushes against yours briefly before descending down the column of your throat, tongue and teeth laving against your skin. Strong hands settle on your hips, guiding you backwards down the hall and into the living room until you find yourself being pressed down onto a firm surface, a second pair of hands joining Jungkook’s curled around your waist.

Turning around, you meet Jimin’s amused gaze, belatedly realizing that you are seated firmly in his lap. A soft laugh escapes him as he takes in your surprised expression, his fingers crawling down the expanse of your stomach to linger near the hem of your shirt, toying with the thin fabric. “I can kiss you, right?” he murmurs, leaning in close.

If you even so much as nod, your lips would meet his. “Yes,” you breathe, not daring to look away.

Jimin smiles crookedly. “Good.” And then he closes the gap.

Kissing Jimin is different. His lips are fuller than Jungkook’s, his movements more languid. One of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, gentle but firm. The other slips underneath your shirt, rubbing tantalizing circles into your hip, and when it ventures farther up and trails along the seam of your bra, you break the kiss with a gasp.

“Still okay, princess?” Jimin murmurs softly.

“Still okay,” you confirm, sucking in a deep breath and shifting around until you are facing him, your legs straddling his thighs. Leaning forward, you kiss him again, and this time his tongue finds its way past your lips and flicks gently against yours. He explores your mouth thoroughly—hungrily—and by the time you break apart, both of you are gasping for air.

Jungkook’s hands return then, grasping at the thin material of your shirt before pulling it up and off entirely. Your arms settle back around Jimin’s shoulders, his brown eyes raking appreciatively across your figure as Jungkook lays a trail of soft kisses along your spine before coming to a stop at your bra.

“Wait a sec,” he mutters, pinching the elastic stretched across your back between two fingers. “How the fuck do you get this thing off?”

It takes you a good second to process his confused question, but once you do, you can’t stop the peal of laughter that escapes you. Jimin echoes your hilarity, snickering wildly as he fights to answer Jungkook. “Jesus, Jeon,” he manages after a few seconds, sucking in a lungful of air. “You’re adorable. Haven’t you ever seen a bra with a front clasp before?” As if to emphasize his point, he reaches for the clasp nestled between your breasts, popping it open smoothly.

Jungkook watches as the cups fall to either side of your body, your nipples hardening at the sudden exposure to the open air. “Oh, fuck off,” he grumbles, tugging the garment down and off your arms.

Jimin finally curbs his chuckles and returns his attention to you, squeezing at the twin swells of your breasts before tweaking the sensitive peaks. “Shit, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes, leaning down to mouth at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “How has Jeon kept you to himself for this long?”

You aren’t given the opportunity to respond, for Jungkook chooses that moment to mold his mouth to yours. His tongue slips past your lips, slick and familiar, and you moan into the kiss as his hands slide down your sides and anchor at your hips.

Jimin hums from where he’s sucking a purple bruise into the thin skin above your clavicle, laving across the tender skin before leaning back to survey his work. “Jungkook. Let’s get her jeans off, shall we?”

You gasp for air when the dark-haired man finally pulls back, his fingers sliding around to pop open the button and slide down the zipper. “Thought you’d never ask,” he teases, gently urging you off Jimin’s lap so he can wriggle the jeans down your thighs, your panties disappearing right alongside the denim.

“How is this fair?” you protest, suddenly very aware of how naked you are before the two men. “Neither of you have taken anything off yet.”

“So impatient,” Jimin chortles, straightening up and grabbing the hem of his t-shirt. In one smooth motion, he’s pulled it off, baring the smooth expanse of his toned torso. “Is that better, princess?”

You drink in each dip and ridge of muscle, following the defined lines of his pelvic bones to where they disappear into the waistband of his ripped jeans. “Better,” you confirm, flashing him a wink and a grin before turning your sights to the other man in the room. “Your turn, Jeon.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jungkook gives you a playful salute before shedding his shirt as well, grabbing it by the back of the collar and tugging it over his head. Flinging it onto the growing pile of clothes on the ground, he closes the distance between you and crushes his mouth to yours in another searing kiss. His warm hands find purchase on your shoulders, smoothing along the bony ridges of your clavicle before dipping down to grasp the curve of your waist, and you can’t help but melt into his embrace. Your fingers fly up to tangle in the soft hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until you are molded against his bare chest, soft curves meshing perfectly with the hard planes of his torso.

The dark-haired man is in the middle of determinedly mapping out every inch of your mouth with his tongue when Jimin rises to his feet and presses himself against your back, his hands sliding down to the curve of your ass and giving the flesh a playful squeeze. “Being a little selfish, aren’t we, Jeon?” he murmurs, mouth at your ear.

Gasping, you break away from Jungkook. “Jimin!”

Said man presses a little closer, and your eyes widen when you feel his hardening length twitch against your thigh. “Screaming my name already?” he asks with a chuckle, his fingers now traversing the length of your spine.

You shiver at the gentle touch. “D-don’t get too used to it.”

Jimin’s entire face crinkles in glee, honey brown eyes disappearing into twin crescents. “Fuck, you’re really something else,” he chortles, nipping at your earlobe. “What are you going to do when I make you eat your words?”

Jungkook snickers and plants an affectionate kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling away. “You sure you’re up to the task, Park?” he challenges. Nudging Jimin aside, he gently presses you backward until he can safely lower you down onto the plushy couch cushions.

The blond man simply grins and steps forward, jostling Jungkook away before he can make himself comfortable between your legs. “Why don’t you save the trash talk and let me take it from here?” he asks playfully, dropping to his knees. Warm hands settle on your thighs, urging your legs apart, and you watch as his tongue darts out to moisten his lips once you’re fully spread before him. “Fuck,” Jimin rasps, his voice dropping several pitches. “I bet you taste so sweet.”

“She does.” Jungkook’s voice comes from above you, and when your head lolls back onto the backrest, you see that the dark-haired man has stepped around to the other side of the couch, standing behind you with his fingers trailing random patterns across your bare shoulders. Every movement leaves gooseflesh and pinpricks dancing in its wake, and you shiver when he suddenly descends farther to mold his hands around your breasts.

“Fuck, Jungkoo—oh!”

A sudden flare of heat against your clit has you gasping and tearing your gaze away from the young man hovering above you. A glance down the length of your body reveals that Jimin has chosen that moment to bury his face between your legs, only his honey brown eyes visible above your mound. “Eyes on me, princess,” he commands huskily, raising his head just enough to give you a perfect view of his tongue tracing a sensuous trail across his plushy bottom lip. Then he’s dipping down to blow another cheeky puff of hot air against your core, and this time you can’t help the way your hips automatically cant up toward his mouth for something more substantial.

Jimin is more than happy to comply with your desires. His hands slide up your thighs slowly, heavy gaze never once leaving yours as he presses a kiss to the soft skin just above your mound. Then he’s sliding down, pink tongue flicking against your clit before plunging inside your weeping entrance for a taste.

“You’re right, she is sweet,” he purrs, pulling away briefly to wink at Jungkook. “So fucking sweet.”

You don’t have a chance to glance back for the dark-haired man’s reaction before Jimin returns his attention to you and delivers a playful nip to your inner thigh. The sudden sharpness of his teeth against the delicate skin sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and instinct sends your fingers flying up to wind through his silky golden hair. A crooked smirk etches across the blond man’s handsome face, and you can practically see the gears turning wickedly in his head when you stammer out a breathy, “O-oh god.”

“You liked that, huh?” Jimin slides two fingers through the slickness gathering between your legs, waggling them playfully in Jungkook’s direction before licking them clean. “I think Jeon liked it too. You doing okay back there, bud?”

With a start, you realize you hadn’t noticed when Jungkook’s hands left your body, but when you tilt your head back, you see the exact reason for their disappearance. The dark-haired young man is standing just behind your sprawled figure, his belt undone and jeans pushed down just enough to free his cock. One hand is wrapped firmly around his length, thumb flicking across the head, and a low groan escapes him when he notices you watching.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, tongue darting out to moisten your lips at the sight. “Why don’t you let me help you out a little?”

The words have barely left your mouth when Jimin suddenly tightens his grip on your thighs, taking your clit into his mouth and giving it a punishingly hard suck.

“Jimin!” you gasp, jolting in his grasp at the sudden burst of aching pleasure.

The blond man’s resulting smile could put Wonderland’s infamous feline to shame. “That’s more like it,” he croons, trailing his index finger along your drenched folds and chuckling when you squirm beneath him. “You sound so good moaning my name, princess.”

Your fingers tighten in his golden hair when he leans forward to bury his face between your legs once more, his name floating from your lips a second time when his wet tongue darts out to lave insistently at your core. Your tummy tenses under the sudden onslaught of pleasure, your thighs tightening around Jimin’s head as his questing tongue delves inside you experimentally. Seconds later, his fingers join in, two digits stretching you open as his mouth latches onto your clit with earnest.

“Who’s being selfish now?” Jungkook’s voice comes from somewhere above you, and a moment later his face appears in your peripheral vision, hovering above your prone body as he leans over the backrest to press an upside-down kiss to your mouth. Both hands wander down past your clavicle to squeeze your breasts, drawing a shudder from you when he begins rubbing slow, deliberate circles around the sensitive peaks.

“L-let me suck you off,” you offer, your voice coming out in little more than a breathy stammer. “I did—ah—tell you to relax and let me give you head, didn’t I?”

The dark-haired man shifts his attention to your neck—soft lips ghosting along the column of your throat—and you immediately tilt your head to give him better access. “You did,” he murmurs between open-mouthed kisses, warm breath sending gooseflesh and pinpricks dancing along your skin. “And you know how much I love your mouth, babe.”

You gasp when his teeth suddenly sink into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, turning into a moan when he begins to suckle at the bruised flesh. At the same time, Jimin begins to lap at you again, licking deliberate stripes along your entrance that end with teasing flicks on your clit. “O-oh fuck,” you say shakily, fighting to maintain your train of thought as heat simmers in your belly. “Fuck. Let me make you feel good too, baby.”

Jungkook lets out a hoarse groan at your incendiary words, nipping at your neck one last time before soothing the bite with his tongue and straightening up to his full height. One hand descends to wrap around his hard cock, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he takes in the way you’re sprawled across the couch, your vision turned upside-down with the way your neck is arched over the edge of the backrest. After a few moments of deliberation, he carefully reaches out, brushing his thumb along the seam of your lips and urging them apart.

You are more than happy to comply, letting your jaw fall slack as he positions the head and begins to press forward into your mouth. Every move is slow and gentle, your heart swelling at his mindfulness as he gives you ample time to adjust to his girth and stops just short of the back of your throat.

“Doing okay, baby?” he murmurs softly, cupping your cheek.

You hum in affirmation, eyes fluttering shut under the gentle touch. Jungkook groans at the resulting vibration, his hips stuttering forward—and you immediately suck in a quick breath before relaxing your throat for the familiar intrusion.

The sound that Jungkook makes when he bottoms out is positively cavernous, rumbling through his chest. “Fuck, baby,” he hisses, the strain evident in his voice. “God, you feel fucking incredible.”

Heat curls at the base of your spine, crawling up and flaring outward. Reaching around, you curl your fingers around the backs of his thighs, smoothing along the tensed muscles to reassure him that he can begin moving. At the same time, you swallow around the head of his cock, eliciting a sharp gasp and a startled rock of his hips. The sudden surge forward has you spluttering to fight your gag reflex into submission, and you feel Jungkook begin to pull out before you squeeze his thigh again to keep him in place.

It takes a reassuring hum and several languid licks along the vein traversing the underside of his cock to reassure Jungkook that you’re okay to continue, but when you swallow around him again, something in him seems to snap. He surges forward until his hips are flush against your chin, and each subsequent thrust has you stretching out, desperate to open up more of your body for him to possess. “Christ,” he grits out, his fingers wrapping loosely around your throat and increasing the pressure on his cock lodged within. “God, {Name}.”

Jimin chooses that moment to renew his ministrations, diving back inside you with a vigor that puts any of his previous actions to shame. His tongue flicks furiously against your clit as his fingers delve further inside you in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you moan brokenly around Jungkook’s dick when he finds it without a hitch. “Look at how greedy your little pussy is,” he croons, pulling away from your folds just enough to murmur the words. “Sucking my fingers back inside each time I pull them out. But I bet my cock will feel even better, huh?”

You’re in no position to give him a verbal response—not with your throat swollen with the entirety of Jungkook’s dick—but Jimin doesn’t seem to need one. The warmth of his body suddenly disappears from between your legs, and you wonder vaguely where he’s gone even as Jungkook increases his pace. Saliva pools in your mouth to ease the dark-haired man’s thrusts, and somewhere between the slick slide of his cock against your lips and his strangled cursing, you vaguely hear the metallic clack of a belt buckle and the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open.

Jimin’s warmth returns moments later, the heat rolling off his torso almost unbearable as he leans over your supine figure. “Jesus, princess,” the blond man murmurs, laying a trail of kisses from your stomach to the valley between your breasts. “You’re fucking soaked.” As if to prove his point, he runs the tip of his cock between your folds, chuckling when you tense up beneath him in anticipation. “Greedy,” he remarks to no one in particular.

And then he’s lining himself up and sliding inside you, inch by torturous inch. The sudden surge of fullness renders you completely breathless, and Jungkook seems to sense your lungs’ desperation for oxygen just before you can choke on his cock. Pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop, he immediately drops to his knees and cups the back of your head, urging you to straighten up and allow your neck to bend in the right direction once more. “Breathe, baby,” he encourages lowly, tangling his fingers in your hair and massaging through the roots.

Obediently, you suck in a deep breath, only to release it shakily mere seconds later, when Jimin suddenly rolls his hips. A pleased grin stretches across his face at your reaction, brown eyes dancing with barely-contained glee. “Is that good, princess? You like being full of my cock?”

“God, yes,” you breathe, relishing the stretch as he pulls back until only the tip remains inside before snapping forward again. “Fuck, Jimin.”

His grin widens at the sound of his name. One hand flits down to the apex of your thighs, rubbing circles into your clit as he settles into a comfortable rhythm. The other curls around your waist, anchoring you in place firmly on the plushy couch, your body sinking further into the cushion as his thrusts become bolder and more urgent.

The air fills with the sound of skin against skin, your airy moans intermingling with Jimin’s grunts of exertion. Behind you, Jungkook refocuses his attentions on your neck, determinedly suckling another bruise just below your jaw as his fingers find the swells of your breasts once more. Your head lolls against the backrest at the mixed sensations, the heat in your belly coalescing into something sharper and more tangible with every passing second.

You aren’t sure how much longer you can last. Pressure is beginning to build in your core, your tummy tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. Every thrust, every stroke of Jimin’s thumb on your clit, every nip and lick that Jungkook bestows upon your neck and shoulders—all of it drives you closer to the brink of what promises to be an absolutely explosive orgasm, and your companions seem to realize how close you are as well, doubly renewing their efforts to send you off the edge. Jungkook’s teeth dig into your skin a little harder, intermingling pain with pleasure, and Jimin tightens his grip on your waist and slams into you so hard you swear the couch scoots back a few centimeters. Your breath hitches in your throat.

And then you’re falling, your body collapsing into a searing wave of pleasure that starts in your core and flares outward like a supernova. A series of garbled moans and keening whimpers is all you can manage as your hands reach out desperately to ground yourself to earth—one flying up to wrap around Jungkook’s neck while the other finds purchase on Jimin’s arm. The blond man has not relinquished his grasp on you—if anything, his grip only tightens around your waist as he chases his own high. His hips stutter as you clench around him in the throes of your orgasm, and it proves to be too much when he follows you off the edge just a few seconds later, burying his face between your breasts and letting out a low, satisfied groan.

It takes you a few long moments to recover, your breathing labored. Jimin grins as you raise your head to meet his gaze, raising a dark brow and pressing a fond kiss to your sternum. “You’re cute,” he remarks, straightening up and rolling off his condom. Tying it off, he wanders away to toss it in the trash before returning to sprawl out beside you on the couch. “I see why Jungkook likes you so much.”

He says it so offhandedly that you barely even notice the way Jungkook stiffens on your other side, inhaling sharply. You are still feeling utterly boneless from your orgasm, your thoughts muddled and hazy as the pleasure recedes back into your veins. But when Jungkook suddenly stands up and walks around the couch to take up residence between your still-spread thighs, you finally snap to attention, your heartbeat quickening at the smolder in his eyes.

“My turn,” Jungkook breathes softly, reaching out to run a finger along your swollen folds and smiling when you shiver at the fleeting touch. “Christ, you’re already so sensitive, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” Jimin teases. “I did you a favor by going first, you know.”

Jungkook hums, grabbing one of your hands and absently playing with your fingers. “Did you?” he asks, a playful smile settling on his face when you immediately lace your hands together. “You don’t know {Name}’s body like I do.” And as if to prove his point, he leans forward and lays a trail of kisses along your jaw, paying special attention to the sensitive spot just below your ear that always makes your breathing stutter.

“F-fuck, Jungkook—“

The dark-haired man’s grin grows, prominent teeth on full display as he gives your hand one last squeeze before straightening back up to his full height. “On your knees, baby,” he commands, tonguing his cheek thoughtfully.

Anticipation coils in the pit of your belly, sizzling and electric. Jungkook slides a finger along the bony ridges of your vertebrae as you begin shifting into position, but before you can settle comfortably Jimin reaches out and stops you in your tracks.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap instead, princess?” he suggests silkily, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging until you are straddling his thighs. Your knees sink into the plushy cushions on either side of his legs, and Jimin smirks crookedly as he curls his fingers around your nape and tugs you down for a kiss. Behind you, Jungkook splays a hand flat against your spine, urging you to arch your back and leave your ass on full display for him.

“Christ,” he grunts, squeezing the presented globes of flesh in his large hands. “I love your ass so fucking much.” The tip of his index finger circles your puckered rim briefly—drawing a gasp from you and sending gooseflesh prickling across every inch of your skin—before he moves down into more familiar territory. “But I love this pretty little pussy of yours even more,” he croons, using his fingers to spread your lips apart before licking a long stripe along your dripping entrance.

“J-Jungkook,” you warble weakly, burying your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck as your thighs tense. The blond man chuckles softly at your predicament and lays his hands on your shoulders reassuringly, even as Jungkook’s hot tongue dips inside you for another taste. “God, please. Please don’t tease me.”

The dark-haired man laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending vibrations dancing up your spine. “Want my cock, baby?”

“You know I do,” you keen into Jimin’s clavicle.

Another laugh. “Good.”

The air shifts behind you, and you deduce that Jungkook is straightening up to his full height and shucking his jeans off his legs from the sound of rustling fabric. Seconds later, his hands caress your waist, smoothing down along the soft skin to anchor firmly at your hips. You suck in an anticipatory breath, waiting.

And then Jungkook is sliding home in one smooth motion, and even though you can’t see him, you can perfectly imagine the tight clench of his jaw and the prominent vein in his neck as his throat bobs with restraint. “Jesus,” he hisses, his hips nestled snugly against the soft curve of your ass. “Fuck. How are you always this tight?”

You cannot find the words to answer, rendered breathless by the slow throbbing of his cock along your walls. Unlike Jimin, he’s forgone a condom—and you can clearly feel every ridge and vein as your body molds to his exact shape and girth. The anticipation in your tummy coalesces into something darker—something potent and heavy—and you finally find your voice again when Jungkook groans in a voice so cavernous that it sends heat spiking straight to your aching core. “Jungkook,” you groan, barely coherent enough to string together words. “Jungkook, please, I need you to move, please.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook snarls, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, baby, you know I’ll give you anything you want. God, you feel fucking incredible.” His hands tighten around your hips as he begins to move, rolling up into you with fluid, practiced strokes.

Pure heat coils in the pit of your belly, dark and heady and thrumming with the need for release. Jungkook picks up his pace, pushing in so deep that you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, a choked gasp escaping your parted lips as he pounds into you relentlessly. Every snap of his hips shoves you up against Jimin, his body taut and his face creased in a lascivious grin as he watches you descend further into delirium. Both of his hands find their way to your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh before he shifts downward to wrap his mouth around a hardened nipple, lapping at the delicate nub and grinning lazily when you reward him with a shaky whimper.

“Damn, princess,” he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Keep rubbing up against me like that, and I’m going to end up needing a second round.”

Jungkook growls when he realizes how firmly you are crushed against the blond man, your chest and stomach sliding against Jimin’s bare torso with every thrust. One of his hands slides from your hipbone up to the base of your throat, splaying just below your jugular and forcing you upright until you are no longer pressed against the blond. The new angle draws a gasp from you, your hands flying up to brace yourself on Jimin’s shoulders, but Jungkook growls again and gives your neck a punishingly hard nip.

“Arms around my neck, baby,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. Immediately, you snake your arms around him, drawing him close until his chest is flush against your back, and Jungkook rewards your compliance with a tender kiss to the soft spot below your ear.

“G-god, Jungkook,” you moan, quivering in his grasp as he picks up his pace. Every snap of his hips sends stars skittering across your vision, the delicious friction between your bodies driving you ever closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” Jungkook rasps, the hand on your hip descending to your clit and drawing tight circles around the aching bud. “Cum for me.”

You keen at the additional stimulation, heat welling up in your core, and Jungkook’s hips stutter when your walls clamp down around him—your fingers simultaneously tightening their grip on the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Fuck, come on,” he grunts, recovering his rhythm quickly. “I’ve got you—just let go for me and cum, baby.”

With one last push, Jungkook sends you spiraling over the edge. The coil in your tummy snaps, releasing a wave of pleasure that surges through your veins like wildfire. A broken keen that vaguely resembles Jungkook’s name fills the room, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from you, your eyes fluttering shut as you shake apart in his ironclad grip.

Jungkook only manages half a dozen more strokes before his hips stutter again, this time faltering entirely as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, {Name},” he grits out, thumb still drawing circles around your clit even as he gives in to the tight, wet draw of your body squeezing around his cock. You can feel him painting your walls in spurts of creamy white, and even in your euphoric haze you still make sure to milk him for every last drop.

“Jungkook,” you whine, slapping his hand away when overstimulation sets in. “Fuck, I can’t.”

Obediently, he withdraws. His softening cock slips out from your entrance, and you groan at the feeling of your combined juices dribbling out and down your thighs. Jungkook zeroes in on the sight immediately and presses two fingers to your entrance to act as a stopper, his lips brushing tenderly along your shoulder. “Keep me inside you, babe.”

Your face flushes when Jimin catches your eye, his plump lips curving up into a shrewd little smirk. But you’re left with no time to wonder about the knowing look on his face because Jungkook is gently gathering you up in his arms to lift you off of Jimin’s lap, plopping you down next to the blond-haired man. He disappears for a few seconds before returning with a warm towel, and you smile when he gently begins cleaning you up, wiping at the mess smeared along your inner thighs. 

“Doing okay, baby?” he asks, and your heart swells with warmth at the concern lacing his voice.

“More than okay,” you admit, turning to press your lips to the sharp angle of his jaw. 

Jungkook’s bare chest rumbles with laughter, his mouth finding yours in a brief kiss as he finishes his work and collapses beside you. “Good.”

On your other side, Jimin is grinning. “Well, this was fun,” he remarks casually, running a hand through his mussed blond hair. Leaning over, he grabs your chin and tilts your face toward his so that he can plant a lazy kiss on your mouth before pulling back and winking. “If you ever wanna do this again, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, a laugh creasing your face when he swoops down and kisses you again. “Jesus, Park, I’m starting to think you really did fall in love with me.”

Jimin’s grin widens. “You could make an honest man of me yet, princess. But for now, I’ve still got a reputation to uphold.” Standing up, he begins gathering his discarded clothes, pulling on his jeans and buckling his belt. You admire the smooth flex of his abdominal muscles as he pulls his t-shirt back over his head, and when he catches you looking, a delighted peal of laughter escapes him. “I’m just a call away, princess,” he reminds with a salacious waggle of his eyebrows. “If Jeon ever stops satisfying your needs, I’ll be more than happy to step up.”

“Oh, fuck off.” This time, it’s Jungkook who speaks, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “Go find some other girl to harass, Park.”

“Testy,” Jimin says with a snicker. Slipping into his denim jacket, he checks his pockets one last time for his wallet and keys. “But I know when I’m not wanted anymore. You coming to the showcase tomorrow, {Name}?”

Suddenly cold, you grab the afghan hanging over the armrest and throw it over your naked body. “I’m going to try.”

Jungkook turns to you, eyes wide. “Try? Christ, {Name}, were you planning to study instead?”

Guiltily, you meet his dumbfounded gaze. “Maybe?”

“Damn,” the dark-haired young man mutters. “You really would be a complete hermit without me.”

“Would not!” you defend immediately. “I have Jisoo!”

Jimin perks up at the mention of your best friend. “Speaking of Jisoo—she’s pretty cute. What’s her story?”

“Oh, fuck off!” you and Jungkook exclaim simultaneously, turning to the blond man still standing in the middle of your living room.

He chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. See you at practice tomorrow, Jungkook. And {Name}, I hope you do come to the show. Seriously. We’ve worked hard, and it’s going to be a great performance. Take a study break and live a little, princess.” Shooting you one last playful wink, he saunters out of the room. A few seconds later, you hear the front door click shut behind him.

“Jesus, he’s something else,” you remark with a giggle, turning back toward the dark-haired man lounging beside you.

Jungkook snorts and stretches lazily, one arm coming to rest on the back of the couch, just behind your shoulders. “Yeah, no kidding. You should see him after performances—he gets swarmed by girls and loves every fucking second of it.”

“He does seem like an attention whore,” you admit, grinning when your companion snorts again.

“You’ve got no idea.” Jungkook’s head lolls back, lips parting to release a yawn. Wordlessly, you offer him a corner of your afghan, which he accepts gratefully and throws over his lap.

For a while, the two of you just sit there in comfortable silence. At some point your head falls against his shoulder, and Jungkook quietly shifts to make more room for you against his side. Finally, after several minutes, you exhale heavily, straightening up and looking longingly at your dark bedroom doorway. “God, I’m exhausted.”

Jungkook follows your gaze. “I guess I should let you go to bed,” he murmurs, but there’s something soft and halting in his voice that makes you glance back at him.

“Do…” you start, trailing off awkwardly when his doe eyes lock onto yours. Fidgeting uncomfortably, you clear your throat and continue. “Um. Do you, maybe… want to stay? I mean, it’s pretty late and you live kind of far away…“

Jungkook’s face breaks into a grin. “Sure,” he says softly, reaching up to brush your cheek with his thumb—the motion so tender and intimate that your heart stutters in your chest. “That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you mumble. “No problem.” Gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom, you add, “You know where the shower is, and all that.”

“I sure do,” he says with a chuckle. “Join me in there?”

You aren’t sure that you can handle being in such close quarters with him just now. “No, you go ahead,” you say, waving him off. “I’ll go after you’re done.”

Concern flickers briefly across his expression before he wipes it away. “All right. I’ll be quick, promise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s something you want to hear from the guy you’re sleeping with.”

That earns you a hearty cackle. “You know no one else can fuck you as good as I do,” he boasts, standing up and allowing the afghan to fall away from his body. Jungkook stoops down to tap your cheek playfully before strolling off in the direction of the bathroom, whistling under his breath and seemingly completely at ease with his nudity. Shamelessly, you stare until his chiseled ass disappears around the corner and you hear the shower turn on. And only then do you flop backward with a groan, draping an arm over your eyes and allowing the couch cushions to engulf your body.

Already, you are beginning to regret inviting him to spend the night. Even though the two of you have never established any definitive rules against sleepovers, you still feel odd, as if sleeping—just sleeping—in the same bed will irreparably change something about your arrangement with the dark-haired young man. We’re friends, you remind yourself. Friends who also happen to fuck every now and then. That’s what we agreed on.

You still remember the night you came to that agreement—the night you first met Jeon Jungkook. You remember Jisoo squeezing you into one of her too-tight dresses and dragging you to the frat house, excitedly chatting about Neuron’s amazing first performance and their hot new member. You remember how you barely heard a word she said over the thumping bass. Jisoo eventually disappeared somewhere amidst a swirling haze of red cups and bitter alcohol, and you, in an attempt to escape the wandering hands on the dance floor, found your way up to the roof of the house.

The stars were exceptionally bright that evening. Autumn was settling in, and the damp chill in the air almost had you retreating back inside when you spotted a figure silhouetted against the night sky, his face upturned toward the twinkling, diamond-studded heavens. Curiosity piqued, you stepped a little closer. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here,” you say by way of greeting.

The young man startles slightly, wide eyes meeting yours. In the dim light shining out of the open window you’d just climbed out of, he looks exactly like what you imagine a deer in headlights would. “Oh! Yeah, uh, I was just looking to get some fresh air,” he explains, gesturing around vaguely. “It was starting to get stuffy downstairs.”

“No kidding.” You nod at the open space beside him. “This seat taken?”

“Nope.” Obligingly, he scoots over to make more room, and you shoot him a grateful smile as you settle down on the rooftop.

“I’m {Name}, by the way,” you introduce, carefully arranging your limbs until you’re sufficiently certain that you’re not flashing your new companion in Jisoo’s absurdly short dress.

The way his gaze lingers on your bare thighs doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Still, his voice remains even when he responds, extending a hand for you to shake. “Jungkook.”

“Jungkook,” you repeat suspiciously, releasing his hand and peering at him a bit more closely. “Why does that sound familiar?”

He chuckles. “I take it you didn’t go to the showcase this afternoon.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, shit. You’re the new Neuron guy everyone’s been talking about?”

“Guilty as charged,” Jungkook admits, scratching the back of his neck.

You huff out a disbelieving laugh, tugging idly at your short skirt as you crane your head back to admire the night sky. “God. You’re famous, dude. Why aren’t you down there basking in the attention? This party’s for Neuron, after all. You should be down there with Hoseok and Jimin.”

“And drown in the sea of girls?” Jungkook snorts. “No thanks. I’ve had enough stress for the day.”

“Are you saying that girls stress you out?” you tease, giggling. “Because if that’s the case, you really aren’t ready for a co-ed college, bud. Or maybe you’re just not into girls?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you’re momentarily mesmerized by the starry reflections glinting in their depths. “Very funny,” he says dryly. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I’d still like to state for the record that I do, in fact, like girls. The swarm down there’s just a lot to take, okay?”

“Okay,” you say agreeably, leaning back and resting your weight on your outstretched palms. The rooftop is rough underneath your fingertips, but you barely notice as you take the time to observe Jungkook’s profile, admiring the straight cut of his jawline and his dark mop of mussed hair. “Huh. I guess I can see why you’re so popular. Objectively, you are pretty hot.”

This draws another chuckle from your companion. “Oh yeah? In that case, you’re pretty cute too. Objectively.”

You grin at him, and he grins back. He looks rather like a rabbit with those adorably prominent teeth, you notice. But a glance down at his lithe body and strong thighs tells you that he is far from being a floppy-eared woodland critter, and you can’t stop yourself from wondering just what he might look like underneath the loose black t-shirt and ripped jeans. “Jungkook.”

He hums. “Yeah?”

It isn’t like you to be quite so bold, but you suspect the vodka swimming in your system plays a factor in the question that leaves your mouth next. “Do you want to have sex?”

The dark-haired man blinks twice in rapid succession, and you can practically see the gears whirring in his head as he processes your suggestion. “S-sorry, what?” he finally manages after a few long seconds, his large eyes meeting yours.

“Sex,” you repeat patiently, giggling when his eyes widen even more. “You’re hot, I’m cute, and we’re at a dumb frat party. May as well, right?”

Jungkook snorts out a laugh, lips twisting into an impish little smile. “So, what, do you just proposition every passably hot guy at the parties you go to?”

“Of course not,” you say with a grin. “Only the really hot ones.”

He throws back his head, eyes crinkling into mirth-filled crescents as he lets loose a delighted cackle. “You’re really something else,” he remarks, recovering from his bout of hilarity. “And honestly? I’ve been wanting to rip that dress off you ever since I saw you in it.”

His gaze shifts into something dark and ravenous, and you no longer know if the heat simmering in your belly is from arousal or alcohol. “Well,” you start, watching as he stands up and offers you a hand. “That can be arranged. Your place or mine?”

Jungkook grins crookedly. “How about neither? I don’t know where you live, babe, but my place is pretty far. And I’m pretty sure I passed an empty bedroom on the way up here.”

You take his outstretched hand, relishing the way his long fingers curl protectively around yours as he pulls you to your feet. “Lead the way.”

Mere minutes later, you find yourself laying on a stranger’s bed, Jungkook kneeling between your spread thighs and eagerly tearing Jisoo’s tiny dress off your frame. Clothes disappear in a flurry, and you are pleased to discover just how fit he is underneath his shirt, the muscles in his arms straining as he anchors your hips and pushes inside you.

Needless to say, he’s the best you’ve had in a long time—quite possibly the best you’ve ever had. Jungkook is outrageously open-handed when it comes to your pleasure, and between his generosity and ridiculous stamina you’re surprised you haven’t passed out in a haze of euphoric exhaustion.

“Jesus,” you groan when he finally pulls out.

“No, I’m Jungkook,” he corrects, flopping down beside you with a smug little smirk. The mattress bounces slightly under his weight.

Your answering laugh is equal parts incredulity and amusement. “Oh my god, shut up.”

His smirk only widens. “You’re not as mouthy after three orgasms,” he points out wickedly. You respond by whacking him over the head with the nearest pillow, and Jungkook feigns an exaggerated gasp of pain as he collapses flat onto the mattress in a tangle of naked limbs. “But you’re more violent,” he muses quietly, rubbing his chin in thought. “I don’t know if that’s better.”

“Depends on whether you’re a masochist or not,” you reply breezily, replacing the pillow and dragging yourself into a sitting position, glancing around for your discarded dress.

“I might be for you, babe,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, watching as you fish your panties out of the haphazard pile of clothing on the ground and slip them back on. “Fuck. I’d let you do anything you wanted to me as long as I got to be inside that sweet little pussy of yours at the end of it all.”

“That’s weird. You almost sound like you want this to happen again,” you remark, raising a brow. “Shouldn’t you be a fuckboy like those dance buddies of yours? One-and-done, or whatever the fuck you want to call it?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting into another smirk. “That’d probably be easier,” he admits, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But I tend to prefer a little more consistency in my sexual encounters.”

You finally manage to locate your dress, sliding the silky material over your hips and tugging until it lays properly across your breasts. “So what are you suggesting?”

“A mutually beneficial arrangement,” Jungkook replies, watching you struggle with the dress’ zipper for a few seconds before standing up to lend his assistance. Carefully, he brushes your hair away from your bare back as the zipper’s teeth glide into place. “Just sex, no strings attached.”

“Friends with benefits,” you breathe, all too aware of the way his warm fingers are lingering on your exposed shoulders. “That makes sense.”

“Not that I’m trying to force you into anything!” Jungkook’s hand slides to the crook of your neck, gently urging you to turn around and face him. “I mean, this is only if you want to,” he says hastily, and you have to suppress a giggle at his slightly flustered, wide-eyed gaze.

“I know that, you dumbass,” you tell him patiently, reaching up to pat his cheek. “And luckily for you, I do want to.”

A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, all traces of hesitance disappearing from his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a grin. “Now give me your number so I can have you at my beck and call.”

Jungkook obligingly grabs his crumpled jeans off the floor and retrieves his phone. “Yes, ma’am.”

Still lost in your memories, you don’t hear the shower switch off in the bathroom or the quiet footsteps of your approaching houseguest. Only when a hand settles on your shoulder are you pulled out of your reverie, your startled gaze skittering up to meet Jungkook’s brown one. He’s standing before you with dripping hair, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips and another one folded neatly over his shoulder. “{Name}? You okay?” he asks, his forehead etched with concern.

You nod hurriedly, making to stand up from the couch. Jungkook looks skeptical, but doesn’t press the issue further. Instead he simply hands you the other towel so that you can wrap it around yourself on the way to the bathroom. A hot shower is just what you need to clear your head.

By the time you leave the bathroom, Jungkook is already sprawled out in your bed, the blanket thrown haphazardly across his bare chest. He grins lazily as you approach him, taking in the loose tee and lacy panties you’re wearing. “C’mere,” he murmurs, lifting a corner of the blanket so you can crawl underneath.

Quietly, you join him under the covers, careful to leave a few inches of space between your bodies, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy Jungkook in the least. One strong arm finds its way around your waist, tugging you flush against his warm body. The other reaches down to squeeze the curve of your ass playfully, drawing an alarmed shriek from your mouth. “Jungkook!”

He chuckles. “Couldn’t help it, your ass looks fucking incredible in this thing.” As if to emphasize his point, he slides two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your panties, snapping it teasingly against your skin.

You retaliate with a sharp elbow to his ribcage, fighting to suppress the smile that threatens to curl across your face. “Go to bed, you pervert.”

Jungkook just laughs again, obediently rolling over to switch off the bedside lamp sitting on your nightstand. “Night, babe,” he murmurs as the room goes dark. You vaguely see his shadowy silhouette settle back down next to you, listening as the mattress springs creak underneath his weight.

But he doesn’t try to reach for you again, and you can’t explain away the sudden, aching emptiness that slithers between your ribs and settles in your chest, just below your erratically pounding heart.

///

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to bright sunlight suffusing the room through the open curtains and stifling warmth pressed up against your back. It takes you a full three seconds to realize that there is an arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and another two to identify the arm’s owner as Jeon Jungkook. All at once, your stomach drops to somewhere near your toes, your heart leaping up into your throat and threatening to burst forth from your mouth entirely. “Oh, shit,” you breathe, trying to wriggle free from his embrace. “Shit.”

By some miracle or perhaps just dumb luck, you manage to escape the strong arm banded around you without awakening its owner. All your previous assumptions about Jungkook sprawling out like a starfish in bed are incorrect, you realize. He’s no starfish—he’s a goddamn koala. Your sleep-addled brain conjures up an image of Jungkook’s head pasted onto a koala’s body, and the sheer absurdity of it sends you into a fit of convulsive giggles that you just barely manage to contain with a hand slapped over your mouth. Still chortling, you somehow find the strength to throw your legs over the edge of the mattress and rise to your feet.

It takes several seconds to recover from your outburst, but after a few deep breaths you glance back toward the dark-haired man still fast asleep in your bed. His mouth is parted slightly, his breathing deep and even, and for a fleeting moment you think just how unfair it is that his lips look so deliciously soft first thing in the morning. Personally, you’re in dire need of some chapstick and a toothbrush—not to mention some much-needed distance from your still-sleeping fuck buddy—and it’s with that thought in mind that you head into the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door firmly before slumping against it with a low groan.

You’re in over your head. It’s something you’ve known for a while now but have stubbornly refused to admit, telling yourself that your feelings for the dark-haired man extend no further than simple friendship. But now, with Jungkook sound asleep in your bed after spending the night, you can no longer deny the very real feelings bubbling in your chest.

“Shit,” you mumble again, dropping to the floor and pulling your knees to your chest. Your heart beats frantically against your ribcage like a caged hummingbird, and it takes every ounce of discipline you possess to not break down right then and there.

Instead, you take three long, deep breaths—letting your eyes fall shut and exhaling through your nose. You concentrate on the rise and fall of your chest—feel the way oxygen rushes into your expanding lungs—and when your heartbeat eventually settles into a more even rhythm, you clamber to your feet and reach for the toothpaste.

When you emerge from the bathroom ten minutes later, Jungkook is sitting upright in bed with an expression that’s halfway between a pout and a frown, his eyes still obstinately squeezed shut. At the sound of the door opening, he turns, one eye blinking open blearily to regard your figure silhouetted in the doorway. “Hey.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, a full octave lower than his normal pitch, and you can practically see the gears whirring weakly in his head, adamantly telling him to stay awake.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, carefully picking your way across the room to your dresser and trying to ignore the way his gaze follows your every move.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” he murmurs sleepily. Turning around, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut again. “Can I borrow yours?”

You throw open the bottom drawer, digging through to locate your favorite pair of jeans and plucking them out from among the other piles of folded denim. “Gross.”

Jungkook chuckles hoarsely, one hand reaching up to rake through his already-tousled hair. “I had my tongue halfway down your throat yesterday, babe.”

“That is not the same thing,” you say pointedly. “You can have some of my mouthwash though.”

He hums in assent, stretching both arms overhead and groaning when something pops. “’S fine,” he mumbles, craning his neck and wincing at the resulting crack. “Hey, what would it take to convince you to come over here and give me a massage?”

“Baked goods. Probably at least an entire cake,” you reply, selecting a balled up t-shirt from your dresser and chucking it at his head. It unravels in midair and flops sadly over his face instead, and you giggle as he claws halfheartedly at the red material before shaking it off and tossing it onto the bed.

“A cake it is,” he says. “Can you come over here and get rid of this knot in my neck? Please?”

Not for the first time, you wish Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so goddamn irresistible. “Lay down,” you sigh, approaching the bed and watching as he sends you the most radiant, grateful grin you’ve ever seen before flopping down onto the mattress. Tentatively, you settle next to him, leaning over and placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “How’s that?” you murmur, rubbing circles into his warm skin.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he groans, melting under your touch. “Just for this, I’m making you two cakes. And a batch of cookies. Any kind you want.”

“You can’t even bake,” you retort. “I’m pretty sure you would just end up setting yourself on fire.”

He snickers quietly, his shoulders quaking underneath your fingertips. “How would I set myself on fire with an oven?”

“You’d find a way.”

Jungkook hums out a content sigh when you begin working on a particularly tense spot in his back. “Fine, so I might need your supervision.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I have a better idea—why don’t you just buy me all the desserts I want? Less babysitting, more instant gratification.” Teasingly, you poke him in the ribs, giggling when he wriggles away and nearly tangles himself up in the mess of blankets on your bed. However, the grin is wiped promptly off your face when he suddenly rolls over, two strong hands gripping your hips and dragging you down onto the mattress. In an instant, you are on your back with Jungkook hovering over you triumphantly, a smug smirk painted across his handsome face.

“Instant gratification, huh?” He leans down until his nose brushes against yours, his dark gaze penetrating. “I can help with that, you know.”

He’s being too intimate. Everything about this—the sleepover, the impromptu massage—is far too intimate. Too domestic. Too romantic—as if he’s your boyfriend and you’re in love. This close to him, you feel as if all the air has been sucked straight from your lungs, your eyes widening when you see him descending even further to press a kiss to your mouth. “Damn it, Kook,” you grumble, mustering up your strength and shoving him away before your lips have the chance to touch. “Why are you so horny all the damn time?”

Jungkook rolls off of you, stretching like a cat before settling on his side and propping his cheek in his open palm. “What can I say?” he murmurs, wide gaze raking across your sprawled figure. “I can’t resist you.”

There’s something unspeakably tender in his tone, something that sinks between your ribcage and takes up residence in your chest, winding around your heart and squeezing until you can barely breathe. “D-don’t say such ridiculous bullshit,” you stutter, unable to look him in the eye. “Don’t you have places to be, or something? Jimin said something about practice yesterday, didn’t he?”

You don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes flash with equal parts hurt and anger. You don’t see the way his fists clench in the rumpled sheets, wrinkling the soft cotton. Your gaze is fixated firmly on the sliver of blue sky visible from your window, and you don’t dare look away until you hear him mumble a quiet yeah and feel the mattress shift underneath you as he gets up and walks into the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him, and only then do you release the breath that you’re holding.

Minutes pass—minutes that you spend simply focusing on your breathing and trying to quell your tumultuous thoughts. You listen to the water running through the pipes in the ceiling while valiantly ignoring the sound of the shower in the adjacent bathroom—the sound that signals Jungkook’s lingering presence in your apartment. Groaning, you roll over onto your stomach and smother your face into the nearest pillow, but one whiff tells you that it’s the one Jungkook slept on last night and the realization sends you recoiling back and off the bed entirely.

You need to do laundry, and you need to do it as soon as possible. Anything to get Jungkook’s pleasantly musky, boyish scent off your sheets and pillows—anything to forget last night’s mistake of a sleepover and return things to normal.

Heart pounding, you back out of your bedroom and into the kitchen. The empty pizza box from the other night is still sitting in your trash bin like a taunt, and you resist the urge to flee again at the memories it brings up. Instead, you wrench open your refrigerator in search for a distraction, your gaze flitting across the empty shelves with growing distress. “Fuck.”

“You still haven’t gone grocery shopping, have you.” Jungkook’s voice suddenly sounds from behind you, and it’s not a question. Whirling around, you glance guiltily at his tall frame silhouetted in the entryway, one dark eyebrow raised at your predicament. “Jesus, {Name}.”

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you promise weakly. “I have some free time then.”

Jungkook shakes his head, closing the distance between you in a few short strides and tilting your chin up with his index finger. “For someone so smart, you’re absolute shit at taking care of yourself,” he says sternly. “What’s stopping you from going today?”

“I have to study,” you say, already knowing exactly how feeble an excuse it is when the first few syllables leave your mouth. “And, um. Your showcase is this afternoon.”

He brightens. “You’re coming?”

You swallow, hating how happy he suddenly looks—as if your presence at his performance means the world to him. “Y-yeah. I’ll do my best.”

Jungkook reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing across the skin just below your right eye. “I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs seriously. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

But then he’s pulling away again, his hand dropping back down to his side as he steps back and offers you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You watch as he grabs his duffel bag, swinging it over his shoulder before patting down his pockets for his wallet and keys. And then he’s walking off, disappearing out your front door and leaving you completely and utterly speechless in his wake.

///

You can’t focus.

Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the words swimming across the pages of your textbook when your stomach is constantly and loudly protesting its current state of emptiness. Grumbling, you snatch your phone up from the table, unlocking the device and sending off a text to your best friend.

[10:04am] You: I’m starving, wanna get food?

Her response comes in almost immediately:

[10:04am] Jisoo: Don’t move a muscle, I’m coming over!!

Jisoo bursts into your apartment thirty minutes later with two paper bags and a massive thermos, her mouth already open and ready to berate you for your lack of self-care.

“Look, I know it’s finals week and all that, but you have got to take better care of yourself,” she trills, slamming the thermos down in front of you. “That’s coffee, drink up. I’ve got breakfast sandwiches in here—“ she drops one bag into your lap, “—and some basic groceries in here so you don’t die in the next couple days.”

Turning on her heel, she marches into your kitchen and begins emptying the contents of the second bag. You watch as she pulls out a carton of milk and a small crate of eggs, shoving both into your refrigerator before taking out a box of cereal and placing it on the counter. “I didn’t tell you I didn’t have any groceries,” you mumble, awed by her kindness.

“No, but you asked if I wanted to get breakfast,” Jisoo replies, fixing you with a knowing stare. “And you never ask if I want to get food unless your fridge is empty. Besides,” she adds, pulling out a box of crackers and another of cookies, “you always neglect your health when it comes to final exams. I kind of figured you’d already be half-starved to death by now, so it’s honestly a wonder you still look okay.” Her gaze skitters over to the pizza box in your trash, one perfectly arched brow raising. “Did you order pizza?”

You bite your lip. “Jungkook brought it over.”

“Thank god,” she sighs. “At least your boyfriend is taking care of you so I don’t have to worry so damn much.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

Your perfunctory response only earns you an exaggerated eye-roll from the dark-haired girl. “Yeah, yeah. Your fuck buddy then, whatever.” Pulling two mugs out of the cabinet, she joins you at the table, grabbing the thermos and pouring generous helpings of hot coffee into both before sliding one to you. “Did he bring it over yesterday?”

“Day before,” you murmur. “But… he was here yesterday too.”

“Of course he was.” Jisoo settles back comfortably in her chair, taking a long sip of coffee and nodding at the brown paper bag still sitting in your lap. “Hand me a sandwich and tell me everything.”

So you do. You detail all the events of the last two days—from your impromptu pizza dinner and study date to Jungkook’s departure just a couple hours ago. Jisoo listens intently the entire time, her eyes widening when you tell her about Jimin’s involvement, and narrowing in smug satisfaction when you mention the sleepover.

“God, it’s about time. I was wondering when you’d finally let him spend the night.”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, slamming your mug down onto the table a bit too vigorously and sloshing hot coffee across the wooden surface. “Fuck. I just… fuck. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let him stay.”

Jisoo flinches back at the sudden spill, her eyes widening. “{Name}, it’s fine. It was late, and you were just looking out for him. No big deal.”

You shake your head. “Jisoo, he’s never spent the night. What if he gets all weird about it? What if this ruins our friendship?”

She raises a brow. “Honestly, sweetie, it looks like you’re the one getting weird. Besides, he wouldn’t have agreed to stay if he didn’t actually want to.”

You are about to open your mouth to protest again, but Jisoo cuts you off with a raised finger and a fistful of clean, slightly crumpled napkins.

“Nope, no more talking about it. I’m going to clean this mess up, you’re going to open that box of cookies I brought over, and we’re going to watch shitty reality TV until you’re not overthinking things anymore. Got it?”

You sigh and turn toward the kitchen, having learned long ago how useless it is to argue with Jisoo once she’s made up her mind. “Fine.”

///

There is already a sizeable crowd forming in the open lot behind the performing arts building by the time you and Jisoo arrive. Music blares through the loudspeakers, the bass boosted high enough to vibrate the ground beneath your feet. A makeshift stage sits at the very edge of the lot, steel gray beams rising up against the cloudless blue backdrop of the sky to hold aloft a simple white banner with Neuron emblazoned across the front in bold black text.

“Let’s get closer to the front,” Jisoo suggests, grabbing your wrist and dragging you forward until you are practically toeing the flimsy metal barricade corralling the audience.

“I’m gonna go deaf,” you lament, distastefully eyeing the speaker system sitting just a few feet away on the grass.

As if on cue, the music dies down, and Jisoo nudges you playfully as Hoseok ascends the steps to the stage, followed by Jimin and Jungkook. All three are decked out in ripped jeans and loose-fitting shirts with the topmost buttons undone, no doubt to expose a teasing flash of collarbone with every movement.

“Hey, everyone!” Hoseok steps up to the front where a microphone is set up, giving it a few taps before flashing his dazzling trademark grin. Cheers ring out, and the red-haired man beams. “Welcome to Neuron’s spring showcase!” he continues once the noise has died down. “I know we’re all busy with exams, but the three of us really appreciate you guys taking the time to come see us. We’ve worked incredibly hard on this routine—I’m sure Jimin and Jungkook can vouch for that—and we’re really excited to show it to you guys today. So thanks for coming out, and we hope you enjoy the show!”

Applause breaks out, and Hoseok’s beam widens as he turns away from the microphone and strides back to join his fellow dancers. His emerald green shirt billows in the breeze as he takes his position on Jungkook’s left and leaves the youngest member in the center—sunshine yellow shirt standing out like a beacon against Hoseok’s green and Jimin’s royal blue. The music starts up again—something low that pulsates with a bass line so heavy you can feel it rumbling in your chest—and you watch in fascination as Jungkook strides forward, each step as calculated and graceful as a prowling cat. One hand rakes through his hair as the other trails down his chest, and when someone in the audience whoops, an absolutely devastating smirk stretches across his lips and settles there.

Hoseok and Jimin join him then, flanking the younger man on either side and joining the choreography seamlessly. One by one, the three dancers fall to the floor, catching on their palms and kicking outward before sliding to their knees. The hip thrusts that follow send the audience into a frenzy, but you barely hear the boisterous cheers over the sound of your pounding heart. Jungkook’s gaze is roving across the crowd intently, and somehow, you know that he is looking for you.

The performance continues. Jimin leaps over Jungkook as the song changes, landing neatly and rolling his hips in time with the new, sultry rhythm. Without missing a beat, Jungkook rises smoothly to his feet and falls back alongside Hoseok. His eyes are still flitting across the audience, and for a brief, insane moment, you consider ducking behind Jisoo and using her as cover.

And then his gaze finds you at last, his brown eyes alight with a fire that you rarely see in the normally mild-mannered young man. You are unable to look away from his piercing stare, the erratic thud of your heartbeat against your ribcage a stark contrast to the smooth, seductive beat still pouring from the speakers. The pounding bass echoes heavy in your ears, the music wrapping around you like a blanket as you watch Jungkook move across the stage, each move flowing effortlessly into the next.

Before you know it, raucous applause fills the air. Startled, you tear your gaze away from Jungkook, taking in the furiously clapping audience surrounding you. To your left, Jisoo cheers heartily, tugging on your arm and grinning so hard you fear her mouth might fall off entirely. “That was their best performance yet!” she shouts. “I can’t believe you get to experience those hips firsthand, you lucky bitch.”

You flush at her insinuation. “Oh my god, Jisoo.”

She simply laughs, flicking her long hair over one shoulder. “Shut up, you love me. Are you gonna go congratulate Jungkook now?”

“Oh.” Glancing back up at the stage, your heartbeat picks up when you realize that it is now devoid of all three dancers. The intensity of Jungkook’s piercing stare is burned into your memory, and you can’t even begin to pinpoint the emotions roiling in your tummy at the thought of talking to him. “I, uh. I guess I should probably find him.”

Jisoo beams and waggles her fingers in farewell. “Well, don’t let me keep you from loverboy,” she singsongs cheerfully. And before you can berate her for the nickname, she’s already skipping off, tinkling laugh echoing behind her.

You heave a sigh, watching her disappear amongst the remaining members of the audience. People are milling about, all smiles and cheery chatter as they enjoy the reprieve from final exams. Hoseok’s distinctive hair catches your attention immediately, shining like a cherry-red beacon in a large group gathered near the stage. Expectantly, you scan the faces surrounding the dance captain, but the one you’re seeking is nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for me?”

Whirling around, you find yourself face-to-face with a thoroughly amused Jimin, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his tight jeans while the other rakes through his ruffled blond hair. “Because if so, there’s no need to look further. I’m right here, princess.”

You snort out an incredulous laugh and roll your eyes. “Dream on, Park.”

“Believe me, after last night? You’ve been showing up plenty in my dreams,” Jimin replies with a wink. When that only earns him another eye-roll, however, he tucks both hands into the pockets of his jeans and relents with a good-natured chuckle. “Anyway. You enjoy the show?”

“It was incredible,” you say honestly. “Really. I’m… I’m glad I came.”

Jimin’s face stretches into a smug grin. “Glad you came to see Jeon?”

Ignoring the knowing look in his eyes, you shrug. “Needed a study break.”

He chuckles and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Sure, princess.” Then he’s turning around and hollering for Jungkook, his grin widening when said young man immediately extricates himself from a nearby group of students and jogs over. “{Name}, why don’t you tell Jungkookie here what you were just telling me?” Jimin claps the other man on the back and offers you another saucy wink before strolling off. His golden head of hair quickly disappears amidst a group of squealing girls, leaving you alone with a wide-eyed Jungkook.

“What were you telling him?” the dark-haired young man asks, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing!” you say quickly. “I mean, well… I was talking about how incredible the show was, but then he made it all weird. I don’t know.” Huffing out a sigh, you meet his gaze. “You guys were great, though. Really great.”

A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.”

For a few seconds, the two of you simply stand there. Jungkook shuffles awkwardly, scuffing his heel against the asphalt, and your gaze finds his sneaker-clad feet before darting over to your own toes. A crumpled beer can rolls by, buoyed by the spring breeze. You tuck a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“So, I guess I should go—” you start, making to walk away.

Simultaneously, Jungkook plants his feet and blurts, “D-do you want to go out?”

Both of you stop, blinking owlishly at the other. “What?” you ask dumbly, certain you’d misheard him.

Jungkook’s cheeks flush pink. “I… um. Fuck, I’m really not good at this.” Sheepishly, he scratches the back of his neck, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours as he sucks in a deep breath and slowly releases it again. “Look, I know this is kind of shitty timing. Really shitty timing. And I know you might, uh—well, you probably don’t feel the same way. But I…”He swallows, his throat bobbing anxiously before he exhales the next six words in a rush. “Fuck. I really like you, {Name}.”

Your voice, when you find it, is little more than a confused stammer. “Y-you… wh-what?”

Jungkook shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and huffing out a self-deprecating little chuckle. “I’ve ruined everything haven’t I? Shit. I’m sorry. I’m just so into you… but I totally understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. It’s just—I just couldn’t hold it in any longer, you know? And seeing you with Jimin drove me fucking crazy—“

“Kook.”

“—I mean, it was hot and all, but it also made me realize that I want you to myself but that’s probably not possible now. Fuck, sorry. I’ve ruined everything and I’m s—“

“Kook!”

The dark-haired man finally pauses in his rambling, eyes wide. “Y-yeah?”

Nervously, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying at the delicate skin. “You… like me?”

Jungkook sucks in another long breath before giving you a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

“But you said… before, back when we first met…” you mumble weakly, mind still whirring to process his confession. “You said no strings.”

“I know,” he says, running a frazzled hand through his hair. “But… things changed, you know? We got to know each other better and I realized how incredible you are—how smart and funny and nice and—and I just…” He sighs. “I had to tell you how I feel. But I know you don’t want a relationship, so I’m just gonna leave before I embarrass myself any more…”

He trails off, already turning to walk away when you snap back to your senses, reaching out and grabbing ahold of his hand. “Wait!”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

“You didn’t even let me talk, dummy,” you admonish gently, squeezing his hand.

He glances down at your intertwined hands, his expression morphing into one of tentative hope as he waits for you to continue. Your heartbeat thuds rapidly in your chest, threatening to burst out from your ribcage entirely as you search for the right words.

“I… I think you’re incredible too,” you finally manage after a few seconds, wincing at how awkward you sound. Jungkook, however, doesn’t seem to mind the stilted nature of your words. His face melts into a crinkly, full-fledged grin—one that shines brighter than his yellow shirt, brighter than the sun overhead.

“Yeah?” he asks, squeezing your hand. His grin doesn’t falter for a single second.

“Yeah,” you confirm, unable to look him in the eye. “And, um. I... I like you too. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter, releasing your hand in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you close. “You’re so cute,” he says, leaning down to pepper kisses across both of your cheeks before finding your mouth.

“And you’re a dumbass,” you mumble, your face flushing when he just lets loose another delighted cackle and kisses you again.

“But I’m your dumbass,” he retorts playfully once he’s had his fill of your mouth. “All yours. What do you wanna do for our first date?”

You hum thoughtfully, fisting your hands in the soft material of his yellow shirt. “Well, you did promise me baked goods this morning.”

“I did, didn’t I? Then that settles it—let’s go grocery shopping.” Jungkook’s hand finds yours again, and when he laces your fingers together, you cannot help but think that nothing has ever felt more perfect. Still, you’ve never been able to resist an opportunity to tease him, and your new relationship status isn’t about to change that.

“Gave up on the idea of baking me cake already, huh?”

“Hey, I never said that. I just figured going to the store would be quicker.”

Your dark-haired boyfriend—because yes, he’s your boyfriend now—glances down at you, the beginnings of something wicked glimmering in his eyes.

“After all—we’re going to need a lot of sustenance with the way I’m planning on fucking you tonight.”

⇢ a bit more [prequel].

[ashes-and-ashes]

Zombies

Remus scowled at the sky. The sun hurt his eyes, turning everything a striking, harsh white, a sun-bleached bone in the middle of the desert. The air was thick and full of dust; Remus coughed into his sleeve as they created the hill.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Everything’s really gone to shits hasn’t it?”

James didn’t bother replying.

Remus shook his head, hitching his pack farther up on his already aching shoulders. It was falling apart, the leather worn and shiny, the stitching coming apart at the seams. They had crammed it with everything they could get; a filthy sleeping bag, a water bottle, as many cans as they could find. He had slid a knife through his belt, another one in his tattered hiking boots, the metal cool against his skin. Everyone had used Guns, in the early days of the Virus, had used guns and bullets and bombs. The days had stretched on, though. Pretty much everything was gone now, and those who had bullets wouldn’t waste it on a Zombie.

They weren’t supposed to call them that, zombies. Technically, they were referred to as the Infected. Before humans Fell, there was a death penalty for referring to them as anything different, as the governments fought to retain control of their panicking nations.

Remus shook his head again. He found himself doing it more often, caught in the tangled web of his memories, the dream-like haze of Before and the grim reality of Now. There wasn’t much to do anyways, besides walk and sleep and occasional fight against a couple of Zombies.

They had gotten lucky, him and Peter and James. They had dropped everything, ran away from the city the second the Virus had struck, all the screams and blood and burning buildings. They had been walking now, for years it seemed, hiding from humans and killing zombies and hoping that they could make it just one more day, please one more day.

Remus growls under his breath. His shoulder hurt - everything hurt actually. They had heard from others that the zombies were moving deeper into the forests, in search of the few humans who were left. They had immediately decided to head south, towards the acrid plains where there were next to no settlements, only ghost towns remaining.

He regretted it now, though, the dusty dirt and the relentless sun. His bottle was almost empty - they had filled it up at a river almost 2 days ago and hadn’t found anything since. Their food was almost gone as well, empty cans the only thing left.

Peter coughed from behind them. The massive axe strapped to his pack gleamed in the harsh light, metal and wood and leather. “We need to restock.”

“Really,” James snapped. He roughly raked his hands through his hair - it was matted, falling almost to his cheekbones, so different from the gelled spikes he used to wear so long ago. “Well fuck. There goes my plans. I wanted to have a goddamn tea party.”

Peter ignored him. They all were stressed, about the water and the food, the zombies and the desert and that haunting feeling that they were running out of time. He had changed too - they all had changed, though Peter had perhaps changed the most dramatically. The awkwardness had vanished, the soft hesitation and the warmth. The world had sucked him dry - sucked them all dry, whittling their edges until they became blades.

It was the one thing you needed, to survive in this world. The ability to keep on going, keep on walking, leave behind everything and anyone. The only people they could trust was each other, and even then their loyalty was limited. They had all made a pact, the instant it became clear that this Virus was not a fluke, that the world was fucked and they were all living on borrowed time.

If I become Infected, kill me. If I’m injured, leave me behind. Prioritize yourself over me.

Was it selfishness? Remus didn’t know. He would leave James or Peter in a heartbeat if one of them got injured, got bitten. He knew they’d do the same with him.

With a slight effort, Remus shoved the thought out of his head. He focused on putting one foot in front iof the other, head pounding slightly as he made it to the top of the hill. With a sigh, he slung the pack off his shoulders, plopping down onto the ground.

“Oh God,” he said. “It’s a fucking ghost town.”

Remus stared at the houses, the broken windows and the caved-in roofs, the cobblestone roads dusty and cracked. The sun had bleached all the colour from it, turning everything into various shades of white, the shadows stretching out across the ground.

James shook his head. “I feel like I’m in a fucking video game.”

“Zombie jump scares,” Remus agreed. “We go in there, we get jumped by a bloody corpse.”

He shivered. There was an air of abandonment to the place, written in every cracked piece of wood, every darkened window. It was like it had been preserved, as if the town had been encased in amber and left to dry in the acrid sun.

James let out a long side. “We shouldn’t risk it,” he muttered. “We’re screwed if we go in.”

Peter held up his water bottle. “We’re empty. We’d last another day, tops. We won’t reach the mountains for another 2 days at least.”

“There’s a pump,” Remus pointed out; he could just make out the slender faucet in the middle of a desecrated square. “And a well I think? Right there.”

“I don’t like it though,” James said. “This is practically the perfect spot for zombies. An abandoned ghost town? How stereotypical can we get?”

“Place’s been abandoned for a while,” Peter pointed out. “You can tell - the houses are old, and they’re not wired for electricity. And that mural on the wall - you can just barely make out the numbers 1952.”

James bit his lip. He stared at the empty water bottle in Peter’s hand, then at the empty town. “It’s only around noon,” he finally said. “We get in. We get out. Stay together.”

“People?” Remus asked.

“Don’t kill them. Try and knock them out.”

Remus nodded. “Sure.”

They carefully picked their way down the slope, trying to ignore the rocks digging into their knees. The ghost town was abolutely silent; they could hear the buzz of insects, the scuttling of mice between floorboards.

What’s the place called, James mouthed; they had become good at reading each other’s lips over the years, a skill born out of the need to stay silent when zombies were hunting them.

Hogsmeade, Peter mouthed back.

The fuck?

Remus just pointed to a sign, swinging down from the roof of a long-collapsed store. Hogsmeade Market it read, the words faded and rotted away. James rolled his eyes and looked away.

He felt Peter’s hands close around his wrist, his grip tight and demanding. Look.

Remus obeyed, following his finger to the small trail of smoke in the sky. He glanced over at James; the grim expression on his face let him know that JMes saw it too. Check it out?

James hesitated, then nodded. He fingered the short, heavy blade at his side - they knew how to take care of themselves, though that didn’t stop them from avoiding fights. They needed food though, badly - they had been living off a combination of mice-and-dandelion soup with half a tin of expired beans for the past few days and Remus knew he would starve if they didn’t find anything here.

They followed the smoke, the trail a streak of grey in the sky. It lead to a small hut, the roof caved in and windows dark - they could smell the flames though, heat the crackle of burning wood. Slowly, James eased the door open.

And Remus froze.

Suddenly he was 11 again, attending Hogwarts School, terrified out of his wits on his first day. He was 12, with 3 boys he knew he would die to protect. He was 14, kissing a boy he had loved for ages. He was 15, screaming as they left, ran from the city as the Infected razed it to the ground.

The boy was beautiful, the first truely beautful thing he had seen for god knew how long. He hadn’t seen another human in what felt like years, hadn’t seen anyone but James and Peter. The boy was beautful though, the way a knife was beautiful, sharp edges and worn bits and eyes that glinted like sharpened steel.

He laughed, the sound low and vicious. “Small world, isn’t it.”

James stepped forward; he was angling his body, Remus realized, trying to shield Remus from him. His sword rested casually in his arm; for the first time Remus noticed the bow leaning against the peeking wall. “Look, I’m - “

“Sorry?” The boy smirked. “For what? Leaving without me.”

James flinched. “I - “

“I waited,” the boy interrupted, “For 5 fucking hours. 5 Goddamn hours. But you were gone, weren’t you? You left me.”

“We didn’t mean to,” Peter cut in. “You were late - “

“I was preoccupied,” the boy said flatly, “by my bitch of a parents.”

Remus swallowed, hard. He remembers that night, James dragging him away, the moon high in the night sky. Come on! We’ll die if we stay, they’re coming -

We have to wait! Remus screamed. We can’t leave him!

We won’t survive if we don’t!

Slowly, Remus looked up, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His fingers tightened into fists, nails piercing through flesh.

“Oh look.” The boy sounded dangerously, cruelly excited. “He does remember.”

“You survived on your own?” James asked. Remus could see his knuckles, white on the worn leather of his blade.

The boy shrugged. “I had to. I would have been with you guys, had you not abandoned me. Forgotten me.”

Remus found his voice, hoarse and cracking. “We didn’t - I never - “

“Thank god.” The boy rolled his eyes. “I would hate to think you’d forget your ex-boyfriend.”

“I didn’t - I could never - “

“Say it.” He tilted his head, his eyes suddenly so, so bright, molten silver in the darkness of the room. “Say my name.”

Remus closed his eyes. “Sirius,” he whispered. “Sirius Black.”

[pcygoldenchild]

The Caretaker

🥀summary: Kim Jongin was your husband. But his obligations to his work seemed to be more important than you. So you did what any neglected mafia wife would do, leave.

🥀genre: smut&angst//mafia au!//adult themes//sexual content.

The cold silk sheets on your bare skin. The warm body next to you. The pitter patter of the rain outside. The darkness that surrounded you. You laid in contentment. The energy lost from last night’s activity now restored. It was a perfect moment, almost like a dream.

Jongin was a complicated man. Every man like him was. He was simple on paper. Promises of a safe, loving and fulfilling life. You trusted that’s what you’d get. But you can only blame yourself for your unhappiness. When did these marriges ever turn out as simple as they were on paper? Your last one didn’t. And now this one was the same. But you stayed. You stayed because unlike your last husband, he was trying, you made yourself believe he was.

It had been two weeks since you last saw him. His business always came first. When duty calls, he has to answer. But being the woman you are, there are needs your husband has to fulfill. And two weeks without him was not something you enjoyed, no matter how much he’d ignore you when he was here. At least you could get under his skin when he payed you no attention. But he’s away and the thought of you probably never crossed his mind. You snapped on him. You told him off for putting his work before his wife. But your way of actually telling him was by ignoring him, not physically saying it. You ignored him when he called. You didn’t call or text him for days. You were stubborn but that’s all the dignity you had left. And he didn’t like being ignored. Not by you or anyone. But you were the only one to actually do it and it got under his skin. You knew he’d be home soon once the calls and messages stopped, he was too quiet about you avoiding him.

When he came home, he wasted no time in giving you what your body craved. He dragged you to your bedroom and fucked you, angry and hard. So hard that he got his point across without saying words. But you loved it when he showed you who’s you were. You loved when he made you feel this rush of lust. You loved when his emotions for you got him so worked up he needed to act on it or he’d combust.

‘I don’t like being ignored. You’re mine and you do as I say. Don’t throw a bitch fit because I’m working. It gets you nowhere but here. But this is exactly where you want to be. Fucked like a pathetic little slut.’

You can still hear his words as he snapped into you. His hand around your throat squeezing tight. Your nails dug deep into his smooth muscular back. Your skin shining in the moonlight. The pants and whimpers and cries falling from your lips. He loved it. He loved you. His eyes were on fire. He was angry but he needed you just as much as you needed him. And now you were laying on his chest as he slept. In your bed for the first time in weeks next to you holding your body to his.

You looked up at him. His face beautiful and scarred. His chin had a cut on it from two years ago. His eyebrow had a fresher cut from his time away from you. But he was still so dangerously beautiful. You kissed his honey skin. Traced his chest and felt the soft skin covering hard muscle. You loved to feel him. You traveled down his stomach over his abs and chiseled form. Kissed down his exposed neck as your hand wrapped around his hard manhood. His instict to tense in your hand making your desire wild. Even in his sleep he responded to your touches. You tighten around his base and slid up his length before going back down. Lightly at first, you wanted to awake his nerves. Then you gripped a little tighter using his sleep produced precum as the only source of lubricant. His chest rising and falling faster as his lips parted letting out air. You don’t remember the last time you got to watch him like this. You go up and down his veiny cock as he slips out of sleep. His eyes open and look down at you. You’re looking at your husband, at his golden brown eyes and puffy lips. He pulls the sheet off of him and exposes your activity under it to the dark room. His eyes rake in your hand wrapped around him. He doesn’t protest, just puts his arm behind his head while the other hand rubs up and down your bare back. You continue while staring into his silent eyes. His low hums and moans drive you wild, his chest heaving more. You bring your leg to straddle his thigh while still laying down. You start to grind on his thigh. You’re so wet and needy. He doesn’t protest. He lets you use him while you please his cock. His eyes love the look of you. He loved the way you could fall into him and do as you wished knowing he’d let you.

It’s almost perfect. But the sound that you’ve grown to hate rings off the walls on the room. His business phone drags his attention from you to it in a millisecond. He doesn’t even hesitate to answer it, even with you still wrapped around his cock.

“Yea. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” he confirmed. Of course he did. He hung up and grabbed your hand from his cock getting up.

“This will have to wait.” he said before kissing your forehead and walking off. You always had to wait.

You were tired of waiting. You waited everyday for him to see how much you were worth. What was the point in having a wife if she’d come second? You wouldn’t stand it anymore.

You waited until he was gone. He dressed and left without saying goodbye. And you’d do the same. You packed your things into a suitcase meant for a long trip. You had too much to take it all so you packed a quarter of your first closet. You didn’t care what you brought, you just needed to go. It was still super early, only 6am like your usual time of waking up. You’d usually wake up at this time because he’d just be coming home to you. But now you were leaving. Where would you go? You’ve made ways. You had an apartment in the next city that you’ve been renting without him knowing. It’s been there for this reason but you never thought you’d get tired enough to go to it.

🥀

The apartment was cozy and good for you. A single bedroom with floor to ceiling windows. Much like your own home, it was very impressive. You didn’t need to do much to make yourself at home, it was your home. You grabbed a glass and the bottle of whiskey Jongin got you for your anniversary. The anniversary he wasn’t there for. It burned going down even more because of what it meant. Just as the ring on your finger cut into your skin instead of adorned it. Or the bruises on your skin from his bites and touches. He was all over you to be so far away.

You were there for a few hours before he noticed you were gone. You knew he wasn’t home. He’d only be home super late or early the next day. So you knew it was the cameras that told him. He called and called but you didn’t answer. Why should you? Why call now that you’re gone when he had the chance to make you stay? You turned your phone off after the 56th call. You didn’t want to hear how panicked he was from how much he’d call you. You didn’t care.

A couple hours later a knock on your door caught your attention. It was calm and soft. You thought nothing of it. Maybe it was the neighbor or someone from the lobby who wanted to welcome you. You figured if it were Jongin, it would be his normal aggressive knocking; especially since it’s been almost 13 hours since he last saw you. Then again, he’s gone days without you. You went to open the door and that’s exactly who you saw. But what you didn’t expect was to see him so clam and red eyed. When he walked forward you tried to close the door but he just pushed through it. Every step you took back he took forward. He closed the door and locked it without ever looking away from you. He must have need crying. His eyes were so sunken and red. He approached you ever so hauntingly and you couldn’t tell if you hurt him enough.

“I’ve spent 9 hours looking for you.” he said. His voice was scary. His stare was fueled by rage.

“9 hours. I’ve called you 483 times. I’ve cried 7 times. I’ve killed 3 people.” he said taking more steps towards you. Your breathing was getting heavier. He was terrifying but you knew what you signed up for when you married him. But this wasn’t it. This wasn’t the safe, loving and fulfilling life you were promised.

“I played the image of your lifeless body in my head over a thousand times. And you know what it would have taken to save me the suffering of those excruciating 9 hours, 483 calls, 7 breakdowns, 3 lives, and 1000 bloody images? One fucking reply!” he said punching the wall next to you. You screamed and started to cry. You hurt him. You did really hurt him. But you hurt him too much. And now he was more angry to have found you alive and well than he was relieved.

“Do you take me for a joke? Do you understand the damage you have done? What have I done to have had my heart played with like this? I thought you were fucking dead! I thought I lost you.” he yelled. He was so close to you. His hands didn’t know what to do with themselves.

“Jongin you don’t care! You only care when I’m fine or ignoring you! I left because that was the only thing I could do to escape that hell hole of a life! You married me and promised me love. But that’s not what I get. I get short days with you. I get mornings in an empty bed. I get days without a word from you. That’s not love!” You were screaming, crying, begging for him to understand. He had every right to be mad at you but he had to understand why you did it.

“You don’t get to run away because you feel neglected! You don’t get to cut me out and make me lose my mind thinking your dead! That’s not what married people do.” he said. He said that’s not what married people do.

“As if you know a thing about what married people do! Jongin you treat me like I’m just for your entertainment. You focus on your work more than you ever have on me. I’ve waited 4 years for you to change and it’s only gotten worst.” you say. Your crying was unbearable. Your breathing was sparse and you felt like you were having a panic attack. Your vision was going blurry. You had to grab his arm from stopping your self from falling. He came closer to you and you flinched. You thought he was angry. You thought he was going to leave you. You thought this was just another failed marriage.

“Calm down ok. Look at me.” he said cupping your face in his hands. His voice was lower, softer and shaky. His hands were hot and shook on your face. He was angry but he was trying to calm down. He was trying to calm you down while calming himself down. You both stood in silence and caught each other’s breathing. A couple minutes and your hearts beat together.

“You are my wife. I made a vow to you. I’ve been down this road before and I know you have too. I’m not doing it again. I work a lot, I know. But you have to understand, that’s my life’s work. I work to support us, to make sure I can do everything and more for you. I work so much because if I let one thing slip through the crack, we could end up dead. I have to protect you. I have to keep my guard up no matter how severe the case may be. I have to do it. That’s the only thing I know won’t betray me. It won’t leave me. It won’t fall through the cracks. And if it did, it’s my fault.” he said.

“Jongin you’re my husband. If our marriage falls through the cracks, if I leave, if I feel neglected, it’s your fault. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see how caring for your work so much leaves me with nothing. I’m left with an empty home. I’m left with lonely dinners for one. I’m left...in the shadows.” you whisper. It hurts to say it. It hurts to think about the 4 years you endured being second to your husbands work. He didn’t even realize how much it hurt you.

“I’m...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re not second. You’re my everything. I know it doesn’t seem like it but you are. But you have to tell me these things. This is all I know. I’m a business man. You have to tell me when I’m being a bad husband. I won’t know unless you do. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I can’t stand the thought of pushing the only person I love away. I have nothing without you. You have to let me know when I’m not showing you that. I get so wrapped up in business, everything gets blurry. You have to help me see.” he said. His eyes were red and filled with tears. If he blinked he’d shed the ones daring to fall.

You shook in his hands, tears falling slowly down your face as his lips grazed your nose and forehead. He was trying to hold it in. He’s already cried enough.

“I’m not willing to lose you. I’m not giving up on us. I won’t go down that road again. We’re a team remember? You have to express yourself to me. I can’t read your mind. How am I supposed to know that when you block me out, it’s because you want me near? I think the opposite and leave you alone. I know now. I know.” he continued. And his tears fell. His voice cracked and your heart sunk. You nodded and held his wrists as his hands still rested on your face.

“But don’t you ever do this again, do you understand? I’ve never felt what I felt today. My whole world went dark. I couldn’t breath or think straight. I thought I lost you baby. I thought you were...gone.” he whispered, more tears falling. And you knew he was in love with you more than you thought. You knew he was troubled. His life has been surrounded by his business his whole life. But he was trying and he was right. You were a team. He can’t read your mind. But he can listen. He can be the husband you want him to be. But a closed mouth doesn’t get fed. You have to do your job as a wife and tell him. Tell him everything.

“It won’t happen again.” you whispered.

“I won’t hurt you again.” he said back.

[toledoendo]

Resetting the Bone- Part 3

A/n: trigger warnings: self-harm, shame

Peter walked up the stairs in the lake house, looking at the framed pictures along the landing. It was his tradition to look at these photos every time he climbed the stairs. He’d done this ever since his first time in the lake house. It began as curiosity, a means to learn about the time he had missed after Titan. Then, it became a comfort and way to ground himself. It was especially important for him in the summer before college to stand and soak in each image. Now, it was habit.

Tony never got tired of hanging more frames or updating the photos inside. Peter thought about how Tony loved his family and his heart surged. He jealously guarded the members of that family — Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, Happy… and Peter. Tony was at peace and able to be with those he loved without hardship. Finally.

Peter wanted to protect his happiness. Not ruin it. Not abuse Tony’s generosity, as so many had.

Peter found his bedroom door open. His surging heart dropped sharply. “Morgan?” He asked on reflex, stepping in quickly. Tony was standing just inside, his hands in his pockets.

Tony gave a relaxed smile and shrugged disarmingly. “Just me, bud. I wanted to check in on how you’re doing this morning.” He motioned to the door, inviting Peter to close it so they could talk.

Peter tried to swallow as he closed the door. This was the part he dreaded most about his visits the last couple of months. The worry that May and Tony- and everyone else- were teeming with for him. He had caused such an upset since that night he’d called from the hospital.

To be fair, the ER doctors had released him; they’d determined he wasn’t in imminent danger because he didn’t want to die. No, not kill himself... He had told them the truth. He had done things the right way. The urges to harm were right there, pressing their weight against his forehead like a lover about to kiss him.

Going to the ER, Peter was hoping for immediate counseling or a recovery program, but that wasn’t what happened. It was like trying to warn everyone that there was a shark in the water and them choosing to wait until it bit. By the time May had made it from New York, Peter was exhausted in every sense. He didn’t want to talk anymore; the breaker in his brain had been thrown.

May had put her hands on his cheeks and forehead several times, searchingly, as if his face might tell her exactly where the fault was and how she could heal it. She knew better, but maybe that was just the panicked hope of parents at the first sign their children are hurt. Tony had done the same when he surprised Peter in New York after May had packed him up and took him home for a week.

It was immature, but Peter was embarrassed when May or Tony “checked on him.”

They shouldn’t have to do this, he thought.

Tony sat down on the bed and Peter reluctantly walked to him. He heard his nerves buzzing again. He felt much younger, some residual teenage sense of inadequacy in his chest.

Tony sat in front of him — the one he always relied on, the one who always supported him — with an expression practically asking to take care of him, to comfort him. But Peter knew what that meant. He hardened his resolve.

Tony wanted him to be healthy, part of his family, part of his peaceful new life, and Peter wasn’t ready to give up these suddenly important, life-quaking emotions. They were his and he was greedy with them. At the expense, he knew, of others. I just keep hurting everyone, Peter thought. I don’t deserve the life I had. Peter couldn’t look at him. His eyes found the floor. Bad son.

“Can I see?” Tony asked.

Peter jolted. He looked up and saw Tony’s hands outstretched, asking for his wrist. Peter shuddered then stiffened. Don’t do this, please. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “No,” he said breathily.

Tony relented easily but Peter clearly saw the worry on his face. “Okay.” Tony said. “You know, even with your advanced healing, you need to keep them clean so they don’t get infected.” Peter’s stomach went stone hard.

Damn it! Peter clenched his teeth, suddenly defensive. “They’re not… They’re just … superficial. Not deep.” I hate this. I hate this.

Tony‘s brow buckled. Then he took a deciding breath through his nose. “Pete.” His voice dropped, serious. “Last time—“

No, no, no, Peter said to the rising rebellion in his brain.

“— you kept going deeper—“

Peter huffed, though it wasn’t meant how it sounded. He’d just lost control of the breath he’d pent up. Tony paused. He stood and stepped toward Peter.

Peter whispered. “Sorry.”

Tony put his arms around Peter, pausing slightly to give Peter the chance to withdraw if he didn’t want the hug. Peter didn’t resist. Tony was warm. Helplessly, Peter leaned into him.

Shame flared behind Peter’s eyes. He wished he would cry and get it over with. How much easier would that be?

Peter used to cry all the time. If he was too tired, he’d cry. If he was hungry, occasionally, he’d cry. If Tony praised him, he’d cry. If he was stressed by school deadlines, workload, if he lost a competition in front of other people, if there was even a ghost of disappointment on May’s face, he’d melt into tears.

As much as he used to hate that about himself, Peter wished he could just sob it out and this could be over. But, he didn’t cry now, had not for a while... He was so locked down, it was useless to try.

“You don’t have to show me or tell me anything, Pete. I’m not trying to…” Tony sighed. He tread this conversation softly. No doubt he remembered how easily Peter could bolt. He was quiet a long time, swallowing. Peter could hear it, feel it against his collar. “I see the work you’re doing and I’m proud of you. I’m so proud, Pete!”

“I think I cut to get high.” Just say it. “I think I’m making all this up.”

Peter hated it, but wasn’t that the truth? During the week he spent in New York with May and Tony they had developed a relapse plan. In addition to seeing a counselor immediately and using the strategies he’d learned when he was fifteen, he would drop 4 credits to ease the stress of college. He would quit his position on the university student newspaper. And, he wasn’t even patrolling as Spider-Man. He had nothing to be stressed about. So what was the problem?

“Nothing is really wrong with me. I do this because I want to. Please. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

Tony spoke, interrupting his inner battle. “I just want you to know that I’m here. I’m with you.”

“This is something I’m doing to myself, doing to you— doing on purpose.” Peter continued. “And I’m not going to stop. I’m not going to stop. Please—“

Tell him.

I can’t.

“I know,” Peter finally said.

Tony pulled away. He looked at Peter and Peter felt genuinely sorry for him. “Are you using your timer between urges and following through?”

Peter nodded. “Mostly.” Anger flared up despite everything. Tony just couldn’t help mothering him, could he?

“How long do you set?”

“Five minutes.”

Tony nodded, thinking. “Will you try 10 minutes?”

Peter dutifully agreed. When Tony was quiet, Peter raised his eyes. He saw Tony’s jaw tighten and Peter wondered what was going through his mind.

“Pete,” Tony said carefully. “I’m scared that—“ He stopped. His thumb raked his forehead as he sighed.

“I’m okay.” Peter tried. “I’m doing so much better, really. Better even than a couple weeks ago.”

“I know.” Tony smiled. “You’ve been working hard.”

No I haven’t.

“Are you talking to May?”

“Yes.” Peter lied. Of course he was talking to May. She texted him nonstop and called most nights. But, he knew what Tony was asking: was he calling May to talk when he was feeling the urge to harm? No.

May had started her own publishing group and it was gaining traction. Peter remembered being six and May bringing home finished magazines to show him and Ben. “My layout was chosen!” She’d trill. Now that he was away at MIT, she was pursuing her career again. She was finally free to do it.

Tony had asked because Peter didn’t take the walk with him last night. He had hidden in his room. And now he had fresh cuts. Of course Tony figured it out.

Tony didn’t believe his answer. This gave him the courage he needed. “I’m scared you’re not going to call anyone when you… need to.”

“I will.” Peter’s voice strained.

“Okay.” Tony said, taking an unconscious step back. He was trying to lessen the threat, ease the pressure on Peter’s flight reflex. He looked at Peter for a long time. “I trust you, Pete. Just… I’m always here to listen. I love you, kid.”

“Thanks.” Peter said. His leg started trembling. Tony was about to walk away and give him his space again. Peter’s defenses always chose this moment waver. So scared of losing this relationship that a moment before he had been actively choking to death.

Tony squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him. Peter could almost believe he was proud of him. There was nothing he had wanted more at one time. Here it was for him. He was looking at it, offered to him, like it was a foreign object. Then Tony turned for the door. “Why don’t you listen to some music —“

“Mr. Stark!”

Both started at that. Tony turned to him questioningly. “Y’haven’t called me that in a while, bud.”

Peter shook out an exhale. His shoulder touched his left ear. Fourteen again, anxious tics and all, he stammered. “Can — can you—“ Goading himself to push through his instinct to flee, he fought the closing of his throat. This felt like gagging yourself to throw up. He ducked to his backpack and removed a foldable camping knife. He thrust it toward Tony, not able to look at him. “—take this, please?”

“Of course.” He heard Tony answer softly. “I’ll take care of it, okay?” Then he felt Tony lift it from his hand. “Do you want to talk?”

That was it. The apathy dissolved and Peter felt his legs swept from under him. He clenched his eyes closed and shook his head. A brutal sob broke out as he felt Tony hold him again.

Damn it. It was always like this. Splintered and unable to hold himself together, he had to interrupt someone else’s life to gather him up, put him in a splint.

I can’t talk to you. Don’t you get it?

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” Tony said.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to cling to Tony like he had. He was defying himself to even hand over the knife. Stuck between two places: complete destruction and health. Was this even a step toward recovery? Tony probably hoped so.

Tony was smoothing down his quaking form, talking in lullaby tones— “I’m with you. You don’t have to do this alone.” Even so, Peter couldn’t rest, but it felt great to cry.