#pulling on his clothes and dropping into the splits and flinging my leg over his lap and he is STRESSED LMAOOO

[aqricus]

one consistent theme in my self ships is that i stay putting on SHOWS for these men. vocals, dramatic ass dance moves, EVERYTHING. in the kitchen, the living room, the car, WHEREVER.

[babygirlispunk]

Clandestine

Chapter 4: The Jetii Adiik

Previous ✧ Masterlist ✧ Next

Chapter Summary: Tides turn on your ambush from unforeseen circumstances and you tumble in your own trauma, receiving comfort from an unlikely person both unfamiliar and familial.

Word Count: 5.2k

Chapter Contents: 18+, violence, swearing, mentions of blood, panic-attack, PTSD, mentions of dead people/children, fluff????, mentions of child loss/miscarriage

"There's no way." Jak utters in disbelief.

"Jetii." You hiss.

You hang on to Jak, arm wrapped around his neck for stability as you struggle to stand upright. Your breath shallow, failing to block out the agonising pain from the massive wound on your leg. Pants and beskar now painted red.

Your entourage keeps trying to attack Din and the small creature but to no avail. They are continuously being thrown back or blocked by an invisible wall.

You slip away from Jak’s hold, placing the saber hilt to your belt and whipping out your gun. "My Lady, you can't-" You don't listen as you start shooting at the duo, aim off point as you hobble in their direction and pushing through the pain that is slowing you down significantly.

You point your pistol at the creature and Din immediately jumps in front of it, taking the brunt of your ammo.

You draw in closer, slowly closing the space between you. You hear him yelling out words but you're too focused on shooting them, shots continually ricocheting off his armour. He crawls onto his knees, throwing his hands up in surrender when his words finally catch you.

"HE'S JUST A KID!"

You halt. Smoke swirling from the gun pointed at them, the warmth of the weapon coming to realisation as you stand aghast. Your heart rate picks up, your breaths are shallow, feeling clammy and your clothes a little too tight, armour weighing you down.

"He's.. Just.. A.. Kid.." He pants each word out again.

You stammer your words not sure what to say. A child. You were trying to kill a child.

No.

He's saying whatever he can to get the upper hand.

Your body sways as you point your pistol back at him. You move your finger to close the trigger when you hear a small voice below you. Your aim drop from Din' to the green figure on the ground. Your vision is blurry but you can make out the outline of a small head with long pointy ears poking from each sides of its head.

He raises he hand at you but is slowly covered by Din, stopping him from flinging you across the clearing.

The creature keeps making noises, words you can't translate. It was more like the sound of a baby babbling. Your wielding hand drops to your side, eyes still fixed on the creature as your perception eventually focuses, rage evaporating from your body. Massive brown eyes glare at you angrily and despite it's wrinkly head and little white hairs scattered across its head, reasoning sets in you when you realise it is indeed, a child.

Tears start to well in your eyes, chest screwing up and it feels like oxygen is dissipating from the atmosphere as you begin to hyperventilate as your heart bangs against your ribcage. Childrens faces bloodied, burned and lifeless flash before you. Cries and screams cloaks you as memories of watching Imperial droids blast innocents, as your home planet cascades around you. That smell. The burning smell stings in your nostrils.

Your gun clunks as it hits the ground, your body drops to the floor as if the planets gravity is pulling you to its core. Landing on your knees as you whimper and cry, holding your hands to your helmet desperately trying to block out the ear-splitting echoes. Crying, wails, screams. A mother, pleading to a droid; “He’s just a kid!” It's deafening, reality getting lost on you as a warm voice barely cracks through the suffocating hollow of your helmet.

"He's just a kid. He's just a kid. He's just a kid." You frantically repeat over and over again.

A wide grip holds you by your pauldrons, their voice getting lost under the repetition of your own. The hands shake you softly but it only strengthens your memories further. The shuddering and violent vibrations as another bomb is dropped on the surface somewhere in the distance, the sky lighting a bright white against the dark of night.

Sparks fly and bounce in front of you followed by grunts and incoherent shouting behind you. Someone is shooting and it is bouncing off beskar. It keeps happening over and over, blinding your tunnel vision behind your visor. The bombs. The flash bangs of the TIE/sa bombers colliding with the surface, crystallising and destroying your home.

"Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop." You beg through gritted teeth trying not to breath in what little oxygen is left. You feel the familiar grip back on you as it slowly massages its way up your arms bringing feeling back to you as you become aware of your own body again.

Like a lullaby, a soft voice coaches you from Mandalore back onto Naboo.

Kote, darasuum kote. (Glory, eternal glory.) Te racin ka'ra juaan kote. (The stars pale beside our might.)

The chant is repeated as your foggy mind dissipates again and your eyes fixate on the moonlit silhouette in front of you, hands now holding yours that are placed on your helmet.

"Let go of her right now!" a booming voice picks up your heart rate again but the low baritone voice keeps chanting.

Kote, darasuum kote. Te racin ka'ra juaan kote.

The sounds start mellowing out disappearing back into the not so distant past, letting your chest relax, allowing your breath to slow down to a normal pace. You still feel dizzy and a weird sensation crawls through your leg.

Slowly dropping your sights not wanting to destabilise yourself again, you see the green cre... the green child, his little hand on your leg and eyes shut tight, concentrating. You are reminded of the open, bleeding wound taking up the majority of the side of your thigh.

Except its no longer gushing out blood and no longer agonising you with seething pain. You watch in awe as he heals you? Just moments ago he could've killed you but now he was helping you. How could such a little thing hold so much power?

"Can I take your helmet off?"

Your head snaps back up to the voice who sang you back to reality.

Din.

His hands still hold over your death grip around your helmet from your desperate attempt to coddle yourself. His thumbs is massaging over your fingers, slight friction between each others gloved hands.

"Calista, may I take your helmet off? It will help you breath."

You begin to nod in agreement before a sharp impact collides with the back of your shoulder. Yelping in pain, your body gives way from the impact and collapses into Din's chest. You feel his arms wrap around, holding your wound with one hand and cradling your head with the other.

"Jak what have you done!?" Zo'ha exclaims.

"I was aiming for him! I didn't think I'd miss!" Jak’s voice cracks.

You begin to feel the blood pool away from your face, feeling faint, getting cold and heart racing from shock, trying to compensate for the blood loss of your new wound. Your consciousness is slipping, body beginning to limp but Din's grasp tightens around you and keeping you upright and applying pressure to the wound.

You blurt out words in a attempt to stay conscious but you just riddle out nonsensical Mando'a. "Gar aalar sah yaim'la. Morut'yc."

Din lets out a soft chuckle, barely noticeable as your senses fade away with the mass amounts of blood oozing out of you. His laugh is melodic to you, spreading a cosy warmth that is fighting to leave your body.

"Let go of her. NOW!"

"You willing to shoot your leader again buddy?" His voice vibrates against your helmet.

"Shabuir!"

"Jak dirycir gar besbe'trayce!" Tiiona says sternly trying to elevate the situation.

“We don’t know what that little womp rat Jetii is doing to her!”

“She’s going to bleed out if you don’t stop!” Din’s voice booms across the clearing demanding to be heard.

A silence drops between everyone. Even with your faltering senses, you are able to focus on his breathing and the rise and fall of his metal chest lulling you into a comforting drowse. From your point of view you see the child still has his hand on you but he looks tired, struggling to keep focus on what he's doing. You don't know how long passes though eventually you feel Din give you a tight squeeze to get your attention. You hum back in response.

"Lady Calista, I am going to place you on the ground. Okay?" his voice is hushed, only for you to hear... or you're slipping deeper into unconsciousness. You hum again not having the strength to speak or nod your head.

Sighing at the loss of warmth that was wrapped around you being replaced by strong hands delicately holding onto you like your a precious vase he didn’t want to drop and break. You're slowly and softly laid down on the ground. He places a hand on the side of your helmet, looking at you one last time and whispering delicate words to you that go unheard. Bleary eyed, you watch as he lifts himself from his knees onto his feet.

A tense conversation is exchanged above you, words not comprehending. A brown sack shuffles into your view. The child. He bends down to look into your visor, cooing and blinking curiously. As he is about to reach his palm to you, in a split second he is picked up and the feet in front of you start running away.

Watching as the silver silhouette descends away, pod following beside him and lasers shooting in his direction; your vision blackens but don't pass out completely until you see him turn around and look at you one last time, the child tucked in his arms. Beams keep firing at him and he disappears into the trees for cover.

"Lady Calista!"

"Lady Calista!..."

"Lady Calista!......"

"I mean no offense Lady Thya. I may never understand the loss of a child but I do empathise with the struggles you and Lord Staanan have endured." Bessel holds his head down apologetically but his posture is steadfast as always, not backing down till Thya and Staanan agree to his proposition.

You stand crouched behind his legs, hiding underneath his towering shadow. You're scared and not completely sure why you're here, why this man pulled you out of your burning home and presenting you to the Marquees and Marchioness Kryze. This was the closest you had seen them in person, only getting glimpses of them when they passed the working quarters whenever your mother would bring you with her but you were strictly not allowed to wander around.

Lady Thya looked different though, from the last time you saw her. Her stomach was larger and round but you didn't see or hear a baby around. You noticed this a few times as you grew up. Mother had explained Lady Thya was growing a baby in there just like she had with you but whenever the bump was gone there was never a baby around. You never heard the cries of a baby echo through the halls and you always noticed how gloomy and quiet the palace was whenever Lady Thya's bump was gone. You would ask mother where the baby was. 'With the stars, sweet girl' was always her answer.

"So why should we take her in? Just because she is the child of one of our staff? Then we might as well adopt all of the staffs children."

"Please, my Lord. I have served you and your family practically my whole life. I have asked for no favours or riches ever. This is my one and only request from you. As a parentless child myself, I can not live with myself if I let her continue life without the guidance and love of a parent."

Lord Staanan huffs out of his nose from contempt. "What of her father?" You feel Bes stiffen and you peak around his legs and see Lord Staanan questioning face, an eyebrow raised and eyes focused on Bes. His finger taps on the arm of his chair as he thinks silently. "Bes, walk with me. I think this is a private conversation to be had."

Lord Staanan raises from his chair and begins walking towards to the hall. Bes looks down at you, unsure whether he should leave you behind or not. You plead through big eyes not to leave you alone. He turns to one of the soldiers standing in the room. "Fren-ri, watch her."

The young man looks startled and points to himself confused.

"It's okay, I'll watch over her while you talk to him." Lady Thya approaches you, it almost looks like she's hovering as her long gown glides along the floor. Bes nods his thanks and heads to the hall.

She bends down to your level and you are able to get a better look at her face. A beautiful woman with sharp features and flowing brunette hair decorated by jewels and ornaments. Her eyes are sombre and dull, skin pale in the way she has not seen the sun in a long time hiding away from the world and its harsh realities.

"What is your name cyar'ika?" her voice is raspy but sweet.

You repeat your name to her and a small smile lifts on her face.

"I remember your mother, you look just like her in all her beauty." She slowly reaches her hand out to you as to not scare you and start stroking your messed up hair. "She was my lady in waiting, a very kind woman. A shame she hid you from me when she was working but I understand why."

At the time you didn't understand, but when you were finally able to conceptualize why they never had their own children you were able to understand why Lady Thya seemed a world away... longing for something she couldn't hold.

"I was quiet sad when she said she was no longer going to work for me. I considered her a friend, especially during my darkest times." A singular tear rolls down her cheek and you use your small hand, wiping it away as she gives you a sad smile.

A pair of heavy footsteps come your way grabbing both of your attention. You look up to see Lord Staanan with Bessel behind.

"What's your name girl." His voice is monotone and direct making you slightly uncomfortable. Lady Thya repeats your name to him seeing your very visible shyness.

"And how old are you?"

"Eight." You manage to squeak out.

"Do you know the Mandalorian Resol’nare?"

You take in a deep breath and taking a moment to reach into your memory for the words your mother would repeat to you.

"Ba'jur, beskar'gam, Ara'nov, alit, Mando'a bal Mand'alor. An vencuyan mhi." You chant out slowly.

Lord Stanaan looks slightly impressed, eyebrows raise and lips slightly pouted. Bes stands behind him smiling, proud.

His attention turns to his wife and they have a silent conversation with their eyes before she nods her head with a slow blink, agreeing to whatever was said between them.

"We'll make a Kryze out of you girl...but the name..."

"Lady Calista......"

"Lady Calista..."

"Lady Calista."

Drifting in and out of consciousness, you hear a voice pulling you away from your dreams and you do your best to filter it out and hide from reality but it is in vain as a bright light filters into view, your eyes slowly flit open. The afternoon sun stings your eyes, watering as shapes and colour slowly define themselves letting you come to realise you're back in your room.

Your head is faced towards your bedside table where your helmet sits and surprisingly... the saber. That's when your memory starts coming back to you. Din's helmet flashes before you, chanting to you in Mando'a with his hands clasped over yours on your helmet. You recite the chant out loud, forgetting you're sharing the room with some one else.

"You're finally back with us."

You achingly turn your head to the other side of your bed and see Vi'ra, one of the clans elders and best medic. She's has her attention focused on your leg, checking it is healing properly.

"How bad is it." you voice croaks from dryness.

"You're very fortunate you didn't straight up cut your leg off young lady. But you'll be fine, just a very big and ugly scar. The worst of it had fixed itself by the time you were brought back here. Like as if it had already been healing for several days..."

"At least I'll have a cool battle scar now." you chuckle.

She has a cheeky smile on her face. "I don't think it counts as cool if you did it to yourself."

"Mir'sheb." Rolling your eyes, you let out a big sigh trying to sit yourself up and a strong pang from your upper back takes you by surprise, reminding you that you got shot. You suck air through your teeth to manage the pain as you sit yourself against the wall.

"One thing I can say in my long life is that I've never witness a Mandalorian be shot by their own... well at least not during a civil war." Vi'ra laughs at her own joke and you give her a half hearted smile as recollection and realisation of last nights events come back to memory.

"I guess I should get Dodac to give you the run-down on the past three days."

"Three days!?" shock makes you jolt forward but regret it immediately when pain twists inside you. "Frak. Why didn't you tell me at the start?"

"I'm telling you now aren't I? I had to comatose you to make sure you everything healed properly. We are very limited on medical supplies here." She just shrugs like its nothing.

"Har'chaak!" She just gives you a sassy face from your ungratefulness. You voice sheepishly "Vor'entye Vi'ra."

"That's what I thought. I'll get the kitchen to make you some pog soup and I'll be back later to check on you."

You nod your thanks once again and she leaves. You hope for a bit of quiet and alone time for yourself to gather your thoughts and feelings but its not long before Dodac joins you.

He gives you a courteous head bow and chooses to stand at the end of your bed as he goes down an extensive list of all the news and updates that had happened over the past few days while you were out for the count. He reports the random bandit attacks that your people helped with, who was currently off world doing long distance bounties, credit status, supplies that need replenishing etc etc.

"Now, as for Jak." Your attention is peaked at the mention of his name. "What do we do about him?"

"What do you mean what do we do about him?"

He starts shifting uncomfortably. "We had him locked up while you were recovering..."

"Locked up?"

"He shot you My Lady." Dodac clearly rethinking his or whoever's choice it was to lock Jak up and his arms stiffen to his sides.

"Mercy of the Maker, you locked up our own man!"

You throw off the blanket covering you and kick your legs over the side of the bed, pushing to ignore the pain emitting from both ends of your body. You clench your jaw tight and groan as you push yourself onto your feet. You feel the cold of the stone floor but also feel your blood pressure drop from the rush and your legs give way from weakness and being bed bound. Dodac catches you before you can collapse, wrapping his arm around you.

You look up at him to thank him but notice he has his head turned away and slightly blushing. Confused you look down and realise you are pant less, your decency only covered by your underwear and tank top. Cursing every swear known in your mind, you contemplate whether it is worth the hassle. You can barely move as is and putting on pants would be jarring on your body, knowing full well Vi'ra will cuss you out if you push yourself too hard.

You opt for humiliation instead and hobble over and slip on your boots so that you can at least walk outside.

"You're still recovering My Lady, please, just sit down." You shoot him a stern face and he understands. Keeping his eyes on everything other than you, Dodac kneels down and tightens your boots for you before placing his arm around you again for assistance and make your way to where Jak is being held.

As you walk through the temple grounds you try desperately to avoid eye contact with your people but you can't ignore them as they bow their heads and share their relief for your recovery. There are also the people who do a double take, whispers shared with the person next to them, their judgemental faces.

"You will report to me if you hear gossips about my current appearance. Right." You say more as a statement rather than a question.

Dodac, staring dead straight, nods his head.

Slowly but eventually you reach Jak in his holding cell, guarded by two. His sat on the ground, still in his armour, eating some food. He looks over to see who is approaching him, shooting up to his feet when he realise it's you. Bowing deep and addressing you, his eyes linger a second too long at your pelvis before making eye contact with you and coughs nervously.

"I thank the Maker that you have recovered from my mistakes. I am ready to accept any punishment. Even death." You raise you eyebrow at his statement. Jak was always the hardy type so it was a surprise to see him visibly nervous.

"Tell me your thought process during the situation."

Even though you already knew were coming here to release him, it was important to know where your soldiers mindsets are at and whether they are still at the level mentally that they are expected to be... and also to relieve your own anxieties of what everyone witnessed that night.

"We saw that you were about to finally get the silver Mando until you just randomly dropped your stance and collapsed onto the ground. We assumed it was the Jetii doing some sort of mind trick. It's been a lifetime since we've had to deal with them that we weren't quite sure how to handle the situation. Our armour supposedly has some resistance to their powers but seeing you fold, it was obvious we were dealing with a very strong one."

You cringe inside at Jak's recounting of the fight, your weakness disguised by the child's presence and power.

"I couldn't let them get you so I started shooting at him, there was enough space between the two of you from my angle to shoot and I was far enough for the Jetii to not attack me."

The flashes... they were shots ricocheting off Din. He was being shot at but stayed there to help you while risking himself...

"But that space closed between the two of you while he was holding you. He was going to pull off your helmet, kill you even..." Jak pauses for a moment, embarrassed to admit his failures. "I over estimated my abilities and missed my shot... getting you instead. Your life was at risk and instead I nearly killed you myself."

"If Bes were here, he'd have your head." Dodac speaks out. You raise your hand to silence him and let Jak continue, despite his claim being true. It was likely Jak would be bloody and bruised at this point if Bes were here. But then again, if he were still here all of this probably wouldn't of happened in the first place.

"After that I lost control of my anger, he was holding you hostage, using you as a shield and taunting us as you were bleeding out. But..."

Jak looks away from you, eyes scattered trying to find answers inside his mind for what happened next. "What happened after that." You say encouraging him.

"But then he let you go... He tried to reason with us saying he'd help us help you, that the Jetii thing could help heal you. Obviously he was lying and we ran him off."

He finally takes a big breath after his recounting and you try to focus on his testimony but you can't help but linger on the part about Din.

He could have been killed but he stayed with you. He could have gotten away faster but he stayed with you, holding on to the pieces of you crumbling apart. You thank the Maker everyone misread his kindness as a hostage situation and your inability to hold yourself together as the power of the Jetii child controlling you. This will work in your favour.

"I can not punish you for doing what you thought is right, but I will discipline you for lack of critical thinking." Jak squeezes his eyes shut and smile gratefully. "You will be confined to the temple and strict training from Nay'tan. I can't have you missing your shots in dire situations like that again."

"Vor'entye, Lady Calista. Vor'entye." he drops to his knees and bows down. In some sick way, it fuelled your pride and sense of authority. Feeling like you kept your authority knowing that he and the others thought you were going to punish him more harshly. Your actions seen as an act of mercy.

You gesture Dodac to let him out. Without the support of him holding you up, you realise how weak you really are in this moment as pain burns through you at every angle. Wanting to avoid Dodac's over protectiveness, you start to limp back towards your quarters, pushing through the pain. Each step sends jolts through you and your vision starts to cloud white. You use all your might in each staggering step but next thing you know you are knocked out as you collide with the ground...

A week had passed since you collapsed. You were left bed bound apart from the occasional physical therapy after much scolding from Vi'ra. Dodac insisted on getting a bacta tank but they were pricey and there were more important things to invest in. You had what was needed medically, all it meant was that it would take a longer for you to recover. But now you were cleared, instructed to avoid any extraneous activity for now.

"Just make sure to do your exercises morning and night. You'll get your full strength back in no time." Packing up her medical equipment, Vi'ra quips. "I have better things to do then check on you everyday."

"Here I was thinking you were enjoying my company everyday." You chuckle.

"I'm old, I'd rather be alone then listen to you mope all day."

A knock at your door directs your attention and Dodac's voice is heard from behind. You call out for him to enter and say your thanks to Vi'ra as she leaves.

Dodac is puffing like he had ran to your quarters. He gives his usual bow greeting, a smile plastered across his face and holding a holopad. You haven't seen him this relaxed in days.

"I come bearing great news!" he says between breaths and you raise your eyebrows for him to continue. He places the holopad on your lap and presses a button.

Heart skipping a beat, relief floods you as you see Bes' face appears before you, unbelievably happy to see him alive and well. Without a word, Dodac excuses himself and leaves you two to talk.

Bes' sighs out your name, reminding you how much you had missed him. Constantly being called by your moniker, hearing a familiar voice say your real name brings comfort to you. Comfort you direly needed right now.

"I'm sorry I didn't contact you earlier. I encountered trouble along the way."

Your posture straightens at the mentions of trouble. "Are you okay?"

"Just a run in with Imps. They mistook my ship for Bo-Katan's." He sees the worry on your face but doesn't drop his smile, you can sense him hold back from whatever it is that needs to be said.

"Bes what is it?"

"It pains me to say this but... we may want to reconsider our stance regarding Bo and the silver Mando..." This was very unlike Bes to stall with his words.

"What do you mean reconsider our stance? I just tried to kill him not long ago! And after everything Bo did?" Your voice starts to raise. "She's the reason why my birth mother died, why we have no home! How could I ever reconsider anything to do with her."

"Because with her help we could can take back Mandalore."

Tight lipped and stiffened, you can not believe the words spewing out of his mouth. What you initially thought would be a warm reunion, has now become a bitter conversation. What could have possibly happened since he left that could ever change Bes' mind, convince him that working with Bo would ever be a good idea.

"What are you not telling me..." your voice is stern, almost hateful.

"I landed in Nevarro, their current base. They saved this city from pirates." You snort at the idea of Bo doing anything selfless. "And not some back planet pirates. A whole fleet My Lady. They are honourable heroes here. The rescue mission was led by Bo and him."

"They're still death watch Bes! It's still Bo!"

"His clan, they're not death watch. A separate faction, these Mandalorians are not the zealots we thought they were."

You sit in silence, marinating in his words. All your anger directed at Din was for nothing? No, he still fought beside her. Surely he knew of her crimes. There was no reason for you to excuse him like that just because he saved some outer rim city. But that night... the night he consoled you while you faltered from your own weakness.

"I understand your confliction verd'ika-" He breaths a heavy sigh. "I too struggled with this realisation but when I spoke with their armourer... we have a common goal. We all want our home back and we can't do it separated and hating each other. This is why the silver Mando hasn't left Naboo yet. He is committed to the cause."

You chew on your lip, every scenario filtering through your mind. If everything Bes said was true, then you were the fool. You put your soldiers in harms way out of your own selfish vendetta. Then again, he did do everything he could do to not harm you while protecting himself. How would they possibly react to all this? Your position as leader was already being questioned behind your back as is. You wanted to pull at the roots of your hair, you mind drowning with millions of differing thoughts and conflicts piling over one another.

Bes speaks your name to get your attention back.

"You don't have to trust Bo, but you can trust him."

Previous ✧ Masterlist ✧ Next

Tags: @blossom82 @ashhlsstuff @starepiphanyy

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Thirty Seven

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

“Why do I feel like I keep meeting you?” 

He rolled over, looking wildly around as his vision returned.  When he spotted Miranda, it wasn’t what he expected at all; she was dressed in simple black clothing and an old fashioned habit.  She sat on the floor of the mutamycete as though this were a picnic.  The blackened ropes of mold snaked all around the room.  Ethan wanted to scramble away, get up, scream, but he simply dropped his head back down to the cushiony material, closing his eyes.  

“This is not happening.” 

“Who are you?”  She had none of the usual animosity in her voice.  She simply seemed curious.  The friendly smile she’d given him slowly faded as she watched Ethan lay there, eyes closed, as though he could just sink into the Mold and vanish.  Maybe he could? Nope. 

Might as well deal with it, then.  

He sat up, and turned toward her.  “I’m Ethan Winters,” he said in the least diplomatic, least amiable voice known to man.  “I killed you a while ago.  You killed me too.”  Her face was now entirely blank. 

“But now you’re trying to get…back…alive.  Return to the world.” 

“I’m dead,” she echoed, as though this were a simple comment about her outfit.  “Interesting.” 

“I don’t get it,” he said, flinging his hands out as he sat cross legged, feet away from her.  “I’ve seen you a few times and you have zero memory.  Of the bullshit you put me through.  Of the horrible things you’ve done.  Then other times I see you and you know exactly who I am.” 

She hung onto every word, leaning forward, stroking her chin.  He was perturbed by her calmness, her… kindness ?  No, nope.  Impossible.  But he felt something gentle, motherly, loving, radiating from her.  

“I might have a theory about that,” she said with a positive tone, causing his bitter expression of disgust to turn into confusion.  “I can’t be sure, but…maybe I am a remnant.” 

“Of what?”

“Of…myself? My own humanity?  I don’t quite know.” 

He stared with lowered brows. 

“Here, let me show you.”  She stood, gracefully, and with one slender finger she pulled something from the air.  It reminded Ethan of Godric, how the other could seemingly find or summon items within the Mold.  He didn’t move toward her, and he flinched when she instead circled toward him, thumbing through the book.  It looked like some kind of religious tome, he saw with distaste.  She was reading aloud, translating for him-her voice reminded him of Eva.  As she read, he stood, searching for a way out.  

“There have been instances in the past where our priests have re-designed the human soul through prayer and fasting; with sacrifice, they urged the Black God to remove unwanted traits, to split the soul into something useful or necessary.  This was famously done with the First Four Kings after our religion was established, taking away all of their emotion and fear, allowing them to rule without prejudice.  It was practiced later on by our soldiers, to condition them to be strong, and fight without hesitation.  However, the question of human judgment rendered these practices unpredictable and perhaps an affront to the Gods themselves.  I have heard it said that the crystal travelers, those incredible beings who can transport themselves through other realms, have met these fractured souls and see them as entirely new creations.  This is a blasphemy we must always repent from-” 

Ethan’s frantic gaze for a door, any door, was slowed as he listened to this reading, and he froze when she closed the page, turning the book over with interest.  

His bewildered stare was met with another gentle smile.  “Perhaps, since I am not the Miranda you remember, and since I do not remember you…someone has pulled this part of me from her.  It would make sense.”  She nodded.  “This makes me a…”

“A piece…”

“A manifestation of whatever traits, whoever it was, was trying to remove.  I believe there are probably other pieces, as I don’t remember meeting you.  But to split…Who would do that?  Our priests would never–”

“Pretty sure you had any priests killed a long time ago,” Ethan said sourly.  “If you’re telling me the truth, then without a doubt, it was Miranda-you-who…pulled your soul apart, or whatever.” 

“Why would I do that?”

“Trust me,” he said as he began to look around, eyeing the black ceiling above them, hoping for some clue on how to leave.  “The shit you’ve done over the last hundred years, you wouldn’t have a conscience.” 

“But what was my purpose for doing so?  Why would I…….”

He withdrew his flashlight, poking it upward, and then sauntered away toward one of the cavern walls.  Rock jutted out from the tendrils of mold, and he tried to follow its path.  “Because your daughter died, and you wanted to bring her back.  Or so you say.  I don’t even know what you-she-wants anymore.  Power, I guess.” 

This was by far the most bizarre conversation he’d ever had in his life.  He turned and glared at the perplexed woman, who was still moving slowly toward him, her hands clasped.  She was so different.  But he refused to let himself acknowledge that.  This could easily be a trap.    

“But the thing is,” he continued, stepping away from her again, “I know your daughter.  I brought her back without having to kill anybody.  She came willingly, running from you.  She lives with me, actually.  She-” 

He shot a look at her; if this was some kind of trick, or pretend ignorance, the real Miranda would have a narcissistic meltdown at these words.  This Miranda simply stared in wonder, as if everything Ethan said was marvelous.  Finally she spoke, and when she did, it was with joy.  She put a hand over her stomach.  “I have a daughter?”

Ethan finally lowered the flashlight with a stupefied stare.  It definitely wasn’t a trick.  Miranda had never seemed so soft, or…well, human.  

“May I see her?” 

“Uh.”

“All you have to do is think of–oh!”

She stared at Ethan, apparently seeing what he was thinking of.  Eva .  The night she returned, dancing at the riverbank.  Her herb garden, which she tended lovingly to all spring.  Her piles of homemade donuts.  Playing with Rose, reading her books before bed while Ethan sketched in his journal nearby.  Her wild-eyed smile when she brought out the homemade birthday cake for Rose.  Playing pranks on Heisenberg, then bolting away as his long string of curse words floated out of his garage with metal shrapnel chasing her.  Collecting rocks with Ethan and Rose.  Visits into town and her fascination with clothes.  Evenings spent teaching the taller blond how to cook-with varying results.  Dancing with Rose in the ballroom while Karl played the organ. 

Miranda was pulling from his memories, the same way Godric could.  

It struck Ethan that this was probably not how people were supposed to exist after death.  What was it that was so different about people like Miranda, Godric, even himself, that they held onto their individuality for so long?  Was the mold playing favorites?  Was it their own will? 

Miranda smiled serenely.  “She’s perfect.”  She squeezed Ethan’s shoulder, which caused him to turn light green.  “Thank you for bringing her back.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that.  He looked away.  

“If I kill you,” he finally said, causing her to raise an eyebrow, “The…other you, the one who split your…mind or whatever.  What happens to you?  Will Miranda-will you-be able to resurrect with pieces of yourself floating around?”

“I imagine not,” she said, dropping her hand and turning away from Ethan.  “One cannot move outside of this consciousness that way.  I would just cease to be, I suppose.  Or return to the…”

“The voices?”

“That’s what you call them?  Yes, I think so.  I can feel that happening to me at any rate.  Things are foggy.  My memory is shorter.  I no longer leave this place.  I grow tired.  It makes sense that I was put here, to protect someone’s interest.”

Well, good? he figured.  Ethan tilted his head in agitation.  “Can you get me the hell out of here?” 

She giggled, reminding him of Eva again, and waved a hand past both of them.  A portal much like the one that existed outside of Godric’s doorway appeared, dripping black.  He tentatively approached, shoving the flashlight back in his pocket.  Before he stepped through the door, he stared dubiously at her.  “This uh…goes to…..?” 

“Your world, the human one,” she nodded.  “Goodbye, Ethan Winters.” 

He paused before stepping toward the void.  “Goodbye…Miranda’s humanity?” 

If this portal didn’t take him back home, he would moonwalk right back in here and wring her neck, he decided with a glare as he passed through the starry liquid and then bumped into–

“Ethan!”

“Eva!”

“Oh thank goodness, you found your way back!” she breathed; he stared at the figures in his large office.  Eva, Moreau, Donna, and Alcina stood around him, all perplexed, all slightly worried.  All dressed in nightclothes.  Moonlight illuminated them.  Ethan realized that the door to the closet where Dimitrescu’s crystal had rested was open.  

“Sort of,” he frowned.  “Why are you all here? What’s going on?”

When he heard the faraway rumble, an echo that he’d heard from Alcina’s castle, everyone turned to look out the windows.  It was so far away they could see nothing.  From downstairs, Ethan heard a door slam.  Then came the loud, familiar boot stomps of a certain sleep-deprived engineer.  

“Something bad,” Moreau said in a rather terrified voice.  

“Ethan,” Eva stared at him curiously.  “Who helped you find the doorway out of…wherever you landed?”

“Your mom,” he answered without skipping a beat.  “Time to suit up, let’s go.” 

[silcoseye]

Volatile P2: Friend to Friend, Of Course

info: "It's been years since Silco, Vander and (Y/N) split up. When Silco searches for his old friend again, asking them to help him teach a child he had recently taken in their 'explosive' craft, their feelings for him are reignited. The question remains if he burns for them just as bright as they do."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

WARNINGS: gender-neutral reader, violence, bomb-making, alcohol consumption, swearing, uhh idk.

haha I'm too scared to look up how to make bombs on my computer because I don't want to be put on a list so plz just accept the vague details and bullshit chemistry I'm trying my best I'm not a scientist haha... ;-;

4884 words

True to his words, two large burly men strode into your apartment, comically barely fitting in the hallway and carried your one backpack and bag.  Silco greeted you in front of the repurposed 'The Last Drop' as his eyes scanned over the two bags and you felt your cheeks blooming with embarrassment. He luckily didn't comment, and only instructed you to follow after him. Your eyes widened as he led you inside an apartment building a little far from the bar,

"Stars, Silco this is-" you found yourself at a loss for words, staring at the spacious apartment. The two men set the bags down and promptly left, leaving you alone with Silco. This living room alone was so much larger than the single room at Miss E's, and had a walk-in kitchen- complete with an oven, a stovetop, a microwave and a fridge! You hardly noticed as Silco turned away, the corners of his lips curved slightly in a smile,

"There's no mould here," He told you, heterochromatic eyes scanning the clean, empty walls as your own eyes practically sparkled with excitement. You examined all the empty cabinets, noticing they were clean of dust. Then the working fridge, and then seeing if all the burners worked. They did. Silco called your attention to a door that led to a small bathroom that had a bath and shower, along with the other bathroom necessities. The smell of bleach was a godsend as it hit your nose, indicating it was clean. Still, you smiled happily at something so basic.

The bedroom is where your two bags had been deposited, and it's where they sat on the bed, waiting. The room had a closet, a desk, a set of draws- everything. It was even illuminated by a window that was high above the ground, and let in some of the neon light from the outside. The bed was soft and springy. It even came with a fluffy blanket. Flinging yourself face-first into the soft fluff, you heard a faint chuckle from the doorway, and lifted your head slightly, surprise clear on your face as you felt the bed bounce beneath you for a moment. It's springy too. Contently, you rolled onto your back, stretching out the remaining aches in your joints and bones and letting out a long sigh.

You felt Silco's gaze on you, unmoving. Turning your head to look at your friend, you noticed he was still smiling- a rare expression for Silco, and yet one that suited him so well. He moved from where he leaned against the door and picked up one of the bags that had fallen to the floor. He didn't wear the coat anymore- he'd hung it up by the door on his way in. How kind of him. He was clearly surprised by how light this bag was, and glanced at you as he opened it,

"This is all you have? Cloth and-" He froze as you sat up, drawing your legs together to sit before him cross-legged, craning your head to look up at him,

"Places like this must cost a fortune, Silco," You said, suddenly wary of the luxury around you. Silco clearly wasn't listening, delicately unwrapping the faded material, and pulling out a switchblade from its confines, examined it. His reflection was distorted in the metal, and the blade was dull, and yet he still noticed the faint crimson glowing of his corrupted eye. The blade was so familiar to both him and you. He let his fingers graze the blade- it barely left an indent in his pads. His mouth, which had opened slightly, closed, and his gaze fell down on you, "You think I wouldn't have kept it?" You smiled, "You spent so much money on it I felt bad for throwing it out," You apparently also felt bad about throwing the wrapping- a cutting from a Piltover Gent who visited years ago, when tensions weren't so high. You reached out and took the knife from him, closing the blade back into its place, fingers tracing the "S&(N)" scratched into the side. His original carvings had been clean. These had been scratched over multiple times, but the white letters still stood out against the brown handle, refusing to disappear, "I also have the tools in here-" As you reached for the bag and pulled them out to show him, he took the wrapped tools, hearing them twinkle together, "Hey that's-"

"I got you new ones," Unwrapping them and taking one glanced caused him to nod, "These are rusted and unusable,"

"Where is all this charity coming from?" You asked in surprise, "The house, the tools. Silco is-"

"You deserve a decent quality of life," His tone was stern and soft, as usual, but still commanded your attention and silenced you, "This is what you deserve, having lived in a shithole like that myself for years, I know it's not a good place to exist. As for the tools- considering you'll be a teacher now, you need the correct equipment," He took the tools with him as he walked out of the room, lingering by the doorway and indicating with his head for you to follow,

"You never told me how much you paid for all this- I'll make it all back to you," You finally said as you followed him to yet another room. You assumed it was probably a closet at first, but as he opened the door you were once again pleasantly surprised to find a workshop there. Workbenches, new tools, metals and equipment. A blowtorch. You barely registered his knowing smile as you gravitated towards the torch, gasping as you turned it on, causing fire to roar out of the other end, "Silco!" You exclaimed in happiness, looking at him with a  bright smile,

"I would have brought you clothes as well, but unfortunately I don't know what you like,"

"I would have liked anything that you got me," You said honestly, "I've never been picky. Remember how we always liked to steal each other's sweaters that those sorry Piltover fucks would send down to us as charity?" You smiled pleasantly at the memory, "I wish I had some of those,"

"Luckily this apartment has heating- I made sure of it," He assured, "And- could you turn that off?" He asked, glancing at the torch you still had, transfixed by the flames,

"Benzo never let me touch them," You smiled, "I could only use his soldering tools,"

"There's some of those as well," He mentioned with a sigh, "About those sweaters, I can arrange-"

"Silco, do not get me anything else," you threatened quickly, "This is too much as is,"

"Stop being so humble, (Y/N)," He countered, thinking for a moment, "I'll find someone to take you shopping," He informed, watching you sigh and roll your eyes, "You can't live in those clothes. You'll get new ones..." Seeing you still unhappy, he let out his own sigh, "they don't have to be expensive. Just wearable," at this you smiled and nodded pleasantly, thanking him "I'll give you some more time to get used to this. Then you'll meet her and you can begin teaching,"

"Can you give me a week? I need to get used to all of this again," You gestured around the workshop,

"Of course. Your books should arrive tomorrow," He ignored your whining about spending too much money again, "You need a refresher don't you?" This made you fall quiet, "You won't be paying me back for this with any money- I won't hear your protests," He interrupted quickly, "You're here to teach her what you know and make sure she is safe. Do you understand?" He spoke, now serious. It was clear he cared for her greatly,

"What happened to the cold, unforgiving and untrusting Silco I grew up with?" You teased, but the curiosity was also clear in your tone. His eyes scanned your face, and he turned,

"I owe you a lot," He spoke, turning to leave, his back facing you as he stopped in the doorway. His tone was quiet. He was vulnerable, "Considering how much you did for me growing up... You deserve to be repaid. You deserve this," He spoke, making you smile warmly. Turning his head slightly to catch your expression, he rolled his eyes again, "Don't get too happy," He stressed, "Accept this. From friend to friend,"

His words made the warmth now spreading to your chest and fluttering around your stomach falter. Of course. Of course. After all, Silco had it all now. Why would he still feel like this about you so many years later? All you could do was nod, your gaze drifting to his shadow extending across the floor, "Friend to friend," You echoed, watching his form nod, and fade away along with his footsteps. You heard the jingle of keys as they were placed down, the distant ruffle of a coat, and the shutting of a door.

Friend to friend...

It had been a few weeks since you had moved in and frankly, you were still getting used to this new way of life. Relearning and reengaging in the technology brought you more joy than you had expected, and it took a phenomenal amount of self-control to not read more and tinker on into the late hours of the night. Luckily, you still had the skills necessary to weld, screw and remember the basics. The chemicals you requested arrived quickly, no thanks to Silco's influence, and all it took was a little practice to get back into the swing of things. Once you had informed Silco that you thought you were ready, he told you he would bring over the girl.

"Her name is Jinx," He said, and even after knowing her for such a short time, the hint of pride in his voice was unmissable.

Your gaze travelled down to the young girl, clutching at his leg to try and hide. From what you could see, her blue hair was unkempt and was let loose, the wavy texture indicating it was usually worn in a braid. Her grey eyes were wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear, as she glanced up at you. The moment your eyes met with hers she moved slightly behind Silco, her eyes darting around the apartment. She was in an unfamiliar place of course. That was always terrifying,

"Hello there, Jinx" You bent down with what you hoped was a pleasant smile to the girl, but you couldn't help notice her wince at the name. It confused you momentarily, but you carried on, "My name is (Y/N). Silco asked me to teach you a few things. He says you're very smart," You watched the girl nod timidly, "Wanna show me what you can do?" You asked again and watched as she glanced up uncertainly at Silco.

The Silco you remembered hated any form of physical affection. The Silco you remembered didn't care for any child that joined your rebellious group. The Silco you remembered was untrusting of anyone he met, always paranoid they would double-cross him. The Silco you remembered was never be caring and loving to anyone.

And yet when you looked up at those calm features, giving the girl a confirming, comforting nod, your view on him somehow changed. Somehow, it also filled you with hope. In that simple gesture, he told her you were a person of trust. And she listened- taking her hands from around him and hesitantly stepping closer to you, her own eyes scanning your still empty apartment in a similar expression of astonishment. He had only known her for a few weeks, you guessed. And yet he trusted and cared for her as if he had known her for a long time. She looked to him for guidance already. You knew people were always capable of change- greater, lesser, it didn't matter. It was still change. Silco had changed... Certainly for the better.

You led the girl to your workshop, turning the lights on for her and showed her to your clearest workbench, dragging a stool over with your foot she she could sit atop it. You produced the basic materials to make a bomb out of the storage area that had been stocked a few days ago and set them before her. Silco stood nearby, arms folded as he watched the two of you. His face was unreadable, but his eyes held a curiosity,

"Alright here," You said, placing the final bag of chemicals down, "Show me what you can do," You said. You watched as at first as she tentatively reached for the metal and the chemicals. She didn't measure- that's something you noticed quickly. She made do with what she had and didn't know what to do with an abundance of items. How familiar. She knew how to work a screwdriver, and she knew which substances to use. In the hands of someone inexperienced, perhaps you would fear for your life, but seeing Silco's own unwavering composure eased your fears. Finally, she set it down, her hands falling to her lap once she was complete,

"I... I like to put colours in them," It was the first thing she said. It reminded you she was a child. A child you had just asked to build you a bomb. With a tilt of your head, you moved back to the storage area, taking a few powdered paints and setting them down for her. Carefully, she tipped the blue into the opening and set it back down. She looked to you expectantly, as did Silco, "Did I do good?" She asked with a frown.

Examining the bomb once more, closely this time, you nodded, being careful when you set it down. The faintest smile appeared on her face, which seemed to light up,

"It's perfectly contstructed- you were very careful with the chemicals and know your way with tools. Your only problem-" you didn't miss the way her face fell as you began the sentence, becoming a pout, and a crease forming between her brow, "-is you didn't measure the chemicals correctly," You said. Taking the bomb and passing the end over a candle on the bench, you threw it to the ground, making it clink against the hard floor. At this, Jinx gasped, sliding off the stool and moving to Silco quickly, resuming hugging his legs. Peaking out from behind them, her eyes widened as the blue pigment, now shaken up, escaped from a small crack in the seams, "I use these," You caught her attention again, producing a myriad of glass measuring spoons, "They tell you the measurements here on the side. I can make you a chart that says how much of each chemical you need and the reactions they'll cause," You offered. Interested by the glass, she took it from your hands, curiously examining the varying shapes and sizes,

"Why are they like this?" She asked, moving one of the scoops to her eye to look through, no doubt interested by the distortion caused by the material,

"They're made from glass,"

"Like a window?" She asked; you nodded, "Why?"

"Glass doesn't react with any of the chemicals. Sometimes, metals react with the different powders and acids, so I-"

"So you use glass so they don't mix," She chirped in, and you nodded. She smiled to herself,

"Yeah. Here, I can teach you how to make an actual bomb with these chemicals," You said, turning to the workbench again. Eagerly, she joined you, sitting back on the stool. She followed your movements and instructions closely, asking questions wherever she could. As you worked, you noticed her grabbing the black marker you had and beginning to doodle on a scrap piece of paper she found. She was still listening- multitasking seemed to come easy for her. Once you finished with the bomb, you let her examine it. Picking up her defect-bomb you placed it next to her, "See the differences?" You asked, to which she nodded, "What are they?" You asked- of course, she did, naming all of them. She was a very smart kid. With a smile, you looked through some of the drawers and produced a set of neon markers that made her eyes light up, "I asked for these so I could see them better in low and black light. But if you want to decorate, I think these'll do you more favour than that marker," She took them and opened them, testing them over her previously drawn lines and eagerly filled them out, marvelling at the brightness. Turning your gaze to Silco, he motioned for you to follow him towards the still-open door of the workshop. You noticed the prideful smile he had before he turned his head,

"Good work," He said, leaning against the door, "You'll teach her what she needs to know," His gaze drifted back to the girl, transfixed and drawing away on the two bombs,

"It's strange..." You pointed out, "It's amazing she knows so much already... Her skills are impressive. But it hits me at times that I'm teaching a child how to craft weapons," You frowned, looking to him. He gazed at you for a moment, a look of understanding on his face. He let out a long sigh, rubbing his jaw,

"You are teaching her safety and technique," He stated, straightening from where he leaned on the wall, "So she doesn't get hurt. She has a talent for this," He looked to Jinx again, who slid off the stool and walked to you two, showing Silco one of the bombs, now covered in bright, neon marker doodles. He took it from her, examining the crosses, sharp zig-zags and an angry-looking monkey that jogged your memory. Moving away from the two, you moved to a desk and dug around the items on it, soon finding the cool metal of the monkey-head. Turning back, you saw Silco patting Jinx's hair and muttering praise for her art and craftwork. It was so beautiful and sweet and seeing the bright smile on the child's face made your chest flood with that same fuzzy warmth again. Stopping next to them, Jinx's happy face turned to you. Opening your palm for her, you showed her the metal. Her eyes grew wide. You hadn't expected her to freeze like this, her eyes turning glassy, the smile vanishing,

"I uh... Silco found this and gave it to me. I thought I should return it to the rightful owner," You said with a smile, but the girl only moved away, fearful again. When she finally stopped looking a the object she put her hands to her eyes, covering them. It confused you, and you looked to see Silco's equally puzzled expression, "Perhaps today has exhausted her..." You spoke, straightening and looking at Silco, who only nodded. Before they could leave, you moved quickly to grab the markers, sighing softly and handing them to him, "Here. She likes them. She can have them," You said, feeling guilty. He still hadn't explained the circumstances under which he found the girl, and you felt rude to pry into him. There was also no telling if he would tell you directly. Perhaps he had given you the metal object for a reason- to keep it away from her. It clearly had something to do with Jinx but you didn't yet know what. Something negative of course- you could tell from the way her shoulders shook and her small breaths, muffled by her hands, trembled. He simply nodded,

"Stop by the bar tonight. I'd like to discuss some things with you," He said, placing a hand on Jinx's shoulders and leading her from the workshop to your front door.  Guilt made your heart thump loudly as you slowly shadowed them. She put her shoes on almost robotically, mind clearly elsewhere, while Silco looked back to you,

"What time?" You asked him to clarify the vague answer. His eye slowly blinked,

"Once everyone is gone," Is all he cryptically said, before he opened the door and exited, offering a hand to Jinx who took it. You watched him present the markers to her as their shapes grew smaller, and a small sigh escaped you seeing her light up again, and grab them eagerly.

This was clearly a mystery, you thought, as you shut the door, moving back into your spacious home and leaning against your couch, allowing your body to fall back onto it and pressing a hand to your head. Stars.

Silco was an enigma but Jinx- she was an oxymoron. On one hand, she was a young naive child, easily distracted by bright colours, and on the other, she was a fairly experienced bomb-maker who needed a bit of practice. And under Silco's care, she would no doubt be used to fill out a role in his inevitable grand plans at some point. Perhaps this is what he was preparing her for. Or perhaps he was simply a man who cared for this child and wanted what was best for her- capitalising on her strengths to get her prepared for an uncertain, yet violent future... You'd need to get some more markers.

You recognised one of the bouncers outside the bar to be the same large man who helped move your two small bags into your new apartment. You'd been through this street before a few hours ago and realised why Silco gave you a home so far away from 'The Last Drop'. The music alone could be heard from a few streets down; you were placed strategically, in a spot the music didn't touch. Perhaps he still cared enough about you to remember your issues with sleeping from when you were younger, easily disturbed by unfamiliar noise. Your hands were stuffed into your pockets and your pockets as you approached the now quiet bar, eyeing the guards. They simply gave you glances, and one motioned his head towards the door, indicating you should enter. Slowly pushing the door and walking in, you glanced at the aftermath of the evening. It was empty, except for the few punks who had to clean the mess. You made your way to the bar, still lit brightly, a lantern in the sea of darkness. A familiar, thin shape stood behind it, his elegant waistcoat illuminated by the hued toxic green lights around him. Silco stood drying two glasses, one of which he set in front of you as you approached. He reached down as you sat up on one of the stools and watched as he poured you both a drink of amber liquid, then set the bottle on the bar next to you,

"Is she alright?" You broke the silence between you two, only interrupted by the scrapes of brooms and quiet footsteps of the few workers. Looks like he still cared for this place since Vander's death. His eyes snapped to look at your face, twisted in discomfort, still affected by the guilt of upsetting her. He set the bottle down with a sigh,

"She'll be okay," The softness in his tone surprised you once more. Stars, he really fucking cared for her. His own gaze filled with sadness at the mention of her, and you watched him lean his pointy elbows on the bar as he took a drink of the liquid, two ice cubes clattering against the glass encasing them, "She's still a little shaken up by what happened," He clarified, setting down the ice-filled glass and reaching the same hand up to rub his wrinkled forehead, a strand of greying black hair falling from where it was usually slicked up, "But she'll be okay," His gaze fixed itself on you, watching as you looked away and nodded slowly, not convinced, "She needs to let go of what happened in the past. Unfortunately, it's still fresh in her mind," He spoke softly and slowly, in a code you didn't yet understand but didn't pry, once again. It was rare for Silco to say exactly what he was thinking,

"I'm sorry I upset her, I had no idea," You said to him. He let out a long sigh, straightening to grab the bottle and pour himself another drink, taking the glass from the top and swirling the brown liquid with the clear melted water from the ice,

"She will be okay," He repeated, forcefully, looking up at you with a stern expression. You held his gaze, "She appreciated your lesson today," He changed the topic, "She's eager to continue learning,"

"That's a relief," You sighed, picking up your drink and taking a sip, savouring the burning alcoholic taste. Silco let out a gentle hum,

"She likes the markers," He added, making you smile softly,

"I'm glad that made her happy at least," You said with a sigh. Drinking the rest of the contents in the glass, you set it down, looking over the clean bar, "Why did you want me here again?" You asked,

"I wanted to ask you what you think of her," He said, "Honestly," He added, raising a brow. You eyed his scar, noticing the usually paler skin matched the side that hadn't been corrupted by the waters of Zaun, "(Y/N)," He caught your attention again, silently watching,

"Jinx is... Well..." You sighed, trying to find the right words and watching as he poured you another drink, "It's strange. I don't know how okay I am teaching-"

"You are teaching her the safety and technique she lacks," He repeated, spreading his arms and leaning against the bar, peering down at you "(Y/N) you know I wouldn't have asked for your help without good reason, and if I could absolutely do without it," that hurt. He noticed your frown and almost challenged you to go off-topic, "Tell me what you think about her, being an expert in the craft," You sighed loudly, showing signs of your annoyance as you turned your head away,

"She did incredibly well. Considering you didn't tell me what she already knew, and the fact that she's so young, she's very good. You're right- she's passionate. This is why it's easy for her to make mistakes," You picked your glass back up and swirled it, watching the liquid form a whirlpool in your glass, "She needs patience if I'm going to teach her more dangerous things. She also needs to understand the basics- I have a few charts I can make her. She'll also need to know which chemicals can mix and which can't to avoid unexpected reactions," You explained,

"You can teach her all this?" He asked. There was only one answer. You both knew this well. A commanding question. Just as oxymoronic as the child under his care,

"Is she here?" You countered,

"She's safe," That likely meant somewhere away from here,

"It was loud here, before. Is she here?"

"She's somewhere quiet,"

"Is she near me?" He looked at you knowingly. You'd clearly worked out why he moved you so far from 'The Last Drop' to not be plagued by the noise, "How much do you-"

"Will you teach her what she needs to know?" The topic diverted back. He humoured you for a moment but took control again. Same fucking Silco. You smiled at him, but sighed, pushing some hair from your face,

"It'll likely take a few years for her to reach the level of perfection you expect," you finally said, watching him nod knowingly,

"If it means she knows what she's doing and that she's safe, that's all that matters to me," He said softly, drinking the contents of his glass again, setting down an empty one, the ice having melted,

"You really care about her, Silco," You pointed out to him, "I don't think you've ever cared for anyone so much," he wasn't looking at you, casting his gaze down at the ground lost in thought. He lifted his head finally, and it looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he straightened, rolling his shoulders,

"I do," He said softly, looking at you a little too long, "We'll be there in the morning after breakfast. Prepare what you need tonight. See you..." he trailed off, giving you a nod, before walking to the stairs. You glanced down to the empty glasses and the bottle,

"See you..." You echoed before he could disappear entirely, pushing yourself off the stool and letting your hands stuff themselves back into your pockets. You found your walk home was disturbed with thoughts of your... friend and the girl. They wouldn't leave you alone as you tried to solve the mystery of their connection to each other. None of your leads stuck and no matter what you thought you were likely wrong. Silco would tell you in due time. Given your friendship, and the fact that he still considered you to be a friend gave you some hope. He wanted to see you again. He gave you so many nice things. He cared for you too.

The following morning, you greeted them both with a smile,

"Ready to learn some more Jinx?" She eagerly nodded, moving quickly to the workshop. Silco only gave you a nod, and one of his small smiles, watching the two of you disappear into the room.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Chill Out

Characters: Rio x black!reader

Summary: Wine drunk + dancing= a very entertained but annoyed Rio

Warnings: Smut

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BEA 💖 @starrynite7114 thank you for being such a great friend. I hope your day is filled with joy 😘 love you, babes! P.S. this was so hard to keep a secret from you lol

I highly recommend listening to these while reading:

Today you were on a high. You woke up feeling good and the day just kept on getting better. Your friends came over for drinks and gossip. During that time the playlist that was playing in the background had hits after hits, causing y’all to be singing dancing fools.

Eventually, the girls had to leave because it was a school night, but it was perfect timing because as soon as they were leaving Rio came back home.

“You have fun, mama?” He kissed you tasting the wine on your lips. You started getting bolder, nibbling on his lips and neck. Oh, it was about to be one of those nights, Rio thought.

Rio pulled away from you and went to the refrigerator for a water bottle. “Not right now. I wanna watch the game.” He explained, plopping down on the couch.

You tried to hold in your whining. It wasn’t often that Rio got to relax, so left him be. “Do you mind if I play music while I clean up?”

“Nah, you do you. I don’t wanna hear the commentators anyway.”

With his permission you turned the music up. It was a little mix of everything so when Crush started playing you got hyped since you haven’t heard that song in forever.

It's just (aah) a little crush (crush)

Not like I faint every time we touch

It's just (aah) some little thing (crush)

Not like everything I do depends on you

Sha-la-la-la, sha-la-la-la

Rio side-eyed you as you began to sing and dance like every white girl in a 90s movie. “Really? You jamming out to this mess?”

“Rude.” You continued singing and dancing along while you were wiping down the counter. Then the next banger came on and you had to rope Rio in.

Motownphilly's back again

Doin' a little east coast fling

Boyz II Men going off

Not too hard, not too soft

Before you were in the kitchen singing and dancing, but with this new song you migrated to the living room dancing in front of Rio. “What you know about this?” You taunted him while doing the running man.

Rio secretly loved that you were dancing like a fool. You were the sunshine in his gloomy life.

He tried not to crack a smile at your silliness, but he couldn’t help it. “Come here,” he crooked a long finger at you.

Continuing to dance, you shook your head no. He wasn’t about to rain on your parade. “Come here.” Rio repeated with more authority in his voice.

This time you complied and stood between Rio’s legs. Grabbing onto your hips Rio pulled you into his lap. For awhile he massaged your scalp while he just stared at you lovingly.

Rio was the king of building up tension. Usually, you would snap and tell him to hurry up, but that would only make him prolong it. However, you were enjoying it this time. His nose rubbing against yours, his breath tickling your face, his hands running along your body.

Eventually, his lips graced yours. He held your chin as the kiss got a little messier. But as usual it was magical. “I love you,” he smiled at you.

“I love you too.” You kissed him once more before you got up. He smacked your ass as you walked away, enjoying it ripple before he got pulled away by the game. “Be ready as soon as the game is off.”

“Okay, daddy,” you giggled and went off to finish cleaning.

As you continue to clean you continued dancing. During commercial breaks you would dance in front of Rio causing him to roll his eyes like he wasn’t enjoying it. Mostly it was silly dancing, but then the twerk songs started coming on and you couldn’t help yourself.

Damn, I want all three (come here), ooh

Ashley (ayy), ooh, Ashley (ayy)

I get hard when she walk past me (look at that ass)

'Cause she thick (thick)

Thi-thi-thi-thi-thi-thick (thick)

Thi-thi-thi-thi-thi-thick (thick)

Thi-thi-thi-thi-thick, she make me stutter

Thankfully it was a commercial break because Rio probably would’ve pushed you out of the way when you started twerking in his face. Instead he gripped a chunk of ass and told you, “Aye, chill with all that.”

“Oh, so Jake from State Farm is more interesting than me?” Rio didn’t say anything for a bit. He just rubbed his bottom lip while his eyes roamed your body. “Girl, you better move before you have my full attention.”

Rolling your eyes you moved out of the way and grabbed you a glass of wine. Fine, if he didn’t want to play, you’ll have fun on your own.

Two wine glasses later and you didn’t give one fuck. You were all up in Rio’s face rapping along with lyrics about using men. Even though, Rio was mostly expressionless you still caught his little quirks of reactions.

“He always asking do I love him? I always be tellin' him, "Uh-uh" I told him he pushing his luck, he better be happy I fucked him.”

“Watch it,” Rio lowly warned you. As usual you paid him no mind and played the next song.

Got more milkshakes than Kelis

Ain't met a nigga who can handle me

I think I should be in museums (hey hey)

'Cause this body a masterpiece (yeah yeah)

Can I fuck ya to a trap beat? (huh huh huh)

He said girl you tryin' to trap me? (Huh huh huh)

Ah hell nah, nigga no I ain't (what what? Uh)

You can hit that door, here go ahead leave (what what? Uh)

Rio couldn’t focus on the game. Between you twerking and rapping in his face, basically saying ‘fuck him’ had him hard as fuck, but he wasn’t about give into you. However, your determination was stronger than his. The last straw though was when you got on the couch popping over ass cheek at a time while looking at him “innocently.”

I wanna bust it on your face

He wanna see my shit squirt like he squeezed it

He finna die by this pussy, he need it

He wanna keep it like lock it and key it

I tell him to bring me my money then beat it

Give a nigga back to the streets, ayy

Even though the song wasn’t your words, it was still a challenge to him. You were directing all that energy to him and you about to get it back ten-fold.

While you were in Meganland, Rio was able to pull your shorts and panties to the side. He didn’t have the time so he pulled his dick out of his pants.

“Rioooo,” you reached back to grab onto his wrists when you felt him split you open. “Nah, what you running for? Remember you were gonna ‘leave this dick up in a casket’?”

Rio loved this song. The moment when he sees the brattiness dies and you become a compliant whimpering mess. Only he could do this. Only he could make this independent, strong woman weak.

“Come on, baby. I thought you ain’t met anyone who can handle you. This sure looks like I’m handling all this shit.” Rio smacked your ass as he looked at your conjoined bodies.

It was too much and too little at the same time. Rio was giving you those long, slow strokes that had you near the edge, but could never quite push you over.

“Please,” you begged, trying to flatten yourself. “Nah, you gonna take this.” Rio pulled your hips up and got a tight grip on them to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

“Please let me cum, Rio. I’ll be good. I promise.” Your man chuckled, making you want to cry. He either wasn’t in a forgiving mood or he was gonna make you work for it.

Grabbing you by your chin, Rio turned your face towards him. Instinctively, he stuck some of his fingers in your mouth. “You want cum, huh?”

“Mmmhmm,” you nodded, gently sucking on his fingers.

“Why should I? You wouldn’t let me watch the game.”

“Because I’ll make you feel good, daddy.” Rio smiled at you before he bent down and kissed you while wrapping his arm around your body to start rubbing your clit. “Cum on this dick, bitch.” He whispered into your ear.

Rio sped up his pace a bit and you were going crazy, yelling out his name. “Rio, Rio, tak-, tak-, take me to the room. I’m gonna squirt.”

“So?” His voice was strained letting you know he was close to finishing. “I’m gonna ruin the couch.”

“Fuck this couch. I’ll buy another. Now cum on this dick. I’m trying to finish the game.”

With his permission, you soaked Rio’s clothes and the couch and not too long after you felt his seed coat your walls.

“Shit, I love you,” you smile tiredly as you laid your head against the armrest.

“Uh-huh, get up and take all your clothes off.” Rio pulled out of you and smacked your butt. You were about to object, but when you saw the look on his face, you quickly undressed.

For a moment, Rio forgot what he wanted you to do. Your body always hypnotized him. He just stared at you with his lip tucked in between his teeth. “Come sit on this dick, mama.”

Ugh, he wanted you to ride? You didn’t have the energy for that, but you listened anyway. Facing the tv, you sank down on his dick causing you both to moan in unison.

You began to bounce up and down, but Rio stilled your hips. “Nah, you ain’t gotta do all that.” Thank god, he was gonna do all the work. “You’re gonna sit here and be still while finish watching the game.”

“Huh?” He couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Rio closed your dropped jaw. “And if you move I’ll watch the next game even though I don’t give a fuck about that team.”

Rio didn’t give you a chance to object. He turned on the tv and ignored. Guess you should’ve chilled out earlier.

Tagging: @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @starrynite7114 @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jassydwill11 @otomefromtheheart @miss-nori85 @xsweetdellzx @cherryblossomgirl20 @cocogodess15 @suburbanblackhoe @jad3djay @my-rosegold-soul @brattyfics @theartisticqueen @sesamepancakes

[melissa-kenobi]

Hiii Melissaaaaaa

If your requests are still open, can I request something smutty with Din Djarin please? I hope you had a wonderful day!!!

Love youuuu ❤

Hi Anon 💕

Hehe yes they are still open - well i had a peaceful day today- super nice not doing anything, slept in till late it was soo good. omg Smutty Din fml I love it. BTW, I may have gone super overboard with this but that's coz I have a vivid imagination! Also I love Din sm (maybe more than Obi - sorry sweetie).

Love you too anon xx

Word Count:

Big - Din Djarin x Reader

"Off now."

Hands scrambling over your body as you quickly stripped off your clothes, shirt flown across the room as you stumbled around taking your trousers off, leaving you naked for Din's viewing. You stood shyly at the end of the bed, watching as your Mandalorians' helmet tilted to the side as he took you in, inch by inch, you were certain you could feel his eyes on you under the helmet as he peeled off his mustard coloured gloves - also flinging them across the room.

Your eyes glued to his fingers as your mouth dropped open slightly at the sight of his hands, his beautiful tanned hands, watching his digits thick as he clenched his fist. "Eyes up here cyare."

Almost instantly your head flicked back up as you looked at your naked self in the reflection of his helmet. Din was now mere inches away from you, you looked at yourself. Gosh you looked desperate, your face already blushing hard as you glanced down, wanting to avoid looking at youself. You also could feel how wet you were, almost dripping down your legs - he hadn't even touched you yet and you were already soaking wet for this man. Your eyes widened in surprise as they fell to a particular spot on Din.

Holy kriff!

You gulped loudly as you felt his rough fingers gently tip your chin up, your face lined with his as you looked at through his T visor. Your eyes flickering down once more as you took in his figure, well, more like his dick.

"You alright sweet girl?" He asked gently as he pressed his armoured body against your naked one. The coolness of the beskar made you gasp in shock as Din pushed two fingers into your open mouth - indirectly asking you to suck on them.

"I asked you a question sweet girl." He growled in your ear, the beskar helmet close enough to your ear that you hear his heavy breathing, picking up on the sounds he made that his modulator didn't. You let out a wanton moan as you sucked on his fingers, swirling around them as Din let out a little moan at your actions before pulling them out and pushing you roughly onto the bed.

"Let's see what else that mouth of yours can do." He warned, tone strict as he peeled off his armour, making you watch him from the bed, your eyes glued to that one spot. The one the place in-between your legs were begging for. Gosh, how badly you wanted to move from your spot and help him out his armour, but knowing Din, he would probably punish you. Your body inched forwards the tiniest amount, just wanting to feel your Mandalorian, touch him but before you could Din stopped you.

"No."

You whined, face slumped as your own hands trailed down your body, squeezing at your breasts, twisting the buds as you moaned out Din's name - well not his real name.

"Stop." Din commanded, halting your motions on buds as he glared at you though his helmet.

"Mando..." You whined in annoyance, watching as he slipped his curiass off, then his pauldrons and then slowly everything else, leaving him stark naked except for his Beskar helmet.

"What's my name sweet girl?" He growled as he crawled up your body, heat emancipating from him as he settled. His hands grasping yours as he brought them above your head, holding them still with one hand as he slipped the bottom part of his helmet up, revealing his beautiful lips. Din neared closer to your ear, trailing a kiss from your cheek to that sweet spot which always made you moan. His soft lips reaching the lobe of your ear before he roughly bit on the bottom of it, your mouth gapsing in surprise while your hips thrust upwards of their own accord.

"Say it." He growled deeply, his natural voice echoing in your ears as he used his other hand to squeeze your breasts gently.

"F-fuck, Din... please, Din, I-i need you..." You gasped out, his name tumbling from your lips in pleasure as he dipped two fingers in your pussy, before pulling out and circling your clit.

Din would be lying if he didn't love the sound of his name being moaned from your sinful lips, the high tone of it, laced with the pleasure he was giving you was more than enough to get him going.

"Kriff- you take me so well cyar'ika."

"I wa- I want you Din." Your voice wrecked, eyes watering as your writhed in pleasure, hips bucking until your felt something large poke your upper thigh - making you stop.

"Fuck- was that-?" You breathed heavily, kriff, you knew Din was big, just by looking at him, watching him walk, the way he held himself. Shit, your heart sped up at the thought of his cock sliding into you - your pussy being split open with his thick length. You were pretty sure you were dripping wet over Din's hands and sheets.

"Din- I don't thin-"

Din shushed you with a delicate finger placed on your lips - his head tilting at your body panting for him. "Lick it."

He spread his hand across your mouth as your tongue slid across the palm of his hand - spit covering his palm as he moaned in response. "Fuck- you liked that didn't you sweet girl? You're a filthy girl mesh'la."

Nodding in motion, you enjoyed the praise he gave you before he brought his wet palm down to his cock - gliding it easily up and down his length before placing his cock ontop of your belly. You let out a small gasp, the weight of his cock on your stomach made you look down - eyes never leaving his length as your mouth watered at the sight.

Maker he was massive, you were pretty sure he was going to break you. The tip of his cock leaked with pre-cum as he pumped himself on your body, your eyes travelled down as you saw the vein on the left side pop. His large hands only just covered the length of him, how you were going to fit him inside of you was mystery. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, all you wanted right now was to take him in your mouth and taste him - kriff he probably tasted amazing.

"Din- can i-i ... I want to- I want you in my mouth." You stuttered out - eyes never leaving his grip on his cock.

The Mandalorian let out a low moan - head rolling back in pleasure at the thought of your mouth on him. But not today - he was on a mission, he wanted your pussy and your pussy only.

"You're gonna be the death of me. But not today sweet girl. I want your pussy." He pushed himself up, crawling up your body as his legs split yours wide open, ready to take him.

"Din, baby- y-you're so big. You're not gonn-"

The Mandalorians' helmet was in the way- he wanted to feel the way felt against him face, to smell your perfume as he thrust into you. To plant kisses across your neck while you writhed in pleausre with his cock buried deep inside of you. So he made a choice, he trusted you and you trusted him.

Din's deep voice rumbled as he flipped you over, your front hitting the bed as he pulled your hands above your head. His thick thigh spreading your legs as flung his helmet off to the side - resulting in a ragged gasp from you as he guided his cock into your pussy. His lips neared your ear as he kissed your neck, sucking and biting.

"I'm going to take care of you cyar'ika, gonna make you feel so good... you'll be feeling me for weeks mesh'la..."

***

👀

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[luckysevenwrites]

Jealousy

Xiaojun just wants to have all of your attention. He doesn’t want to have to share you with some other guy. His plan for the day was to fill it with so much fun that you wouldn’t have a chance to think about that other guys. Sadly, the rainstorm that came in had other plans.

Part of the long term couples series. 

             Running down the street with your jacket pulled up over your head you feel the presence of another body behind you as you dodge other people who are scrambling to find cover from the rain. Peeking up from under your jacket you see your destination up ahead and pick up your pace. The person behind you picks up their speed as well and you can hear them grumbling as they chase after you. Flinging yourself at the door you stumble into the lobby and drop your soak jacket down and do a scan of your body. You are soak through and are already creating a puddle on the floor from all the rain.

             Turning to the side you see Xiaojun dropping his coat as well. Droplets are falling rapidly from the ends of his hair, his wet clothes clinging to him, and a puddle is forming below him as well. He shakes himself causing more water to fall and to splash onto you. Jumping back to avoid the water you almost slip forgetting about the water covering the floor. Xiaojun reaches out for you steadying you with his hand. Once he’s sure that you have regained your balance, he releases you and heads towards the elevator. Following him you feel a little bad about the mess of water that you have left on the floor but there wasn’t much that you could do about it.

             Waiting for the elevator you glance over at Xiaojun. His jaw is clenched his hands balled up into fists. Before you have a chance to say anything to him about his mood the elevator dings and he moves inside with you following behind him. The doors close and the two of you stand next to one another in silence. Goosebumps start to rise on your skin, and you don’t think twice about moving into Xiaojun’s space for warmth. He wraps his arm around you and rubs his arm up and down your side quickly, trying to warm you up.

             “So much for it being a sunny day,” you mock thinking back to what the forecast was predicted to be today. It was supposed to be a warm fall day. Instead, the two of you along with every other person out got caught in a rainstorm.

             “Tell me about it. My plans for the two of us are ruined.” Xiaojun’s voice is clipped, and you know that he is upset about having to cancel your plans for the day. But this time he seems more upset than he normally would be, and you are trying to understand why he is so upset about having to change your plans.

             “It’s no big deal. As long as I get to spend time with my bestie, I’m happy,” you cheerfully sing trying to lift his spirits but all it seems to do is make the scowl on his face deepen. Frowning you lean more into Xiaojun and give his waist a squeeze.

             “Please don’t be upset. I don’t want our day together to be filled with you being moody. We haven’t seen each other in weeks, and we should be having fun together.”

             The elevator dings and the two of you look towards the opening doors. Xiaojun doesn’t say anything, but he does tuck you in closer to him and pulls you forward with him. He knows that he shouldn’t be upset about having to cancel your plans, that getting to spend time with you at all is better than no time spent together at all. But he had plans for today, today he wanted to fill the day with endless fun so that you would completely forget about the guy you were seeing, and he wouldn’t have to hear about him once. That he wouldn’t have to worry about you pulling out your phone to text him or take a call from him. He wanted you completely focused on him and what the two of you were doing. Now he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep your attention completely on him when he was confined to his apartment.

             “I just wanted today to be perfect, and the rain has ruined everything that I’ve had planned for today,” Xiaojun tells you has he punches in the code for his apartment a little more forcefully than is necessary.

             Walking in with Xiaojun you allow him to pull you towards his bedroom. Where he lets you go to go rummaging through is drawers for some dry clothes. You wrap your arms around yourself and rub your hands up and down your arms trying to stay warm while Xiaojun rifles through is clothes. He’s agitated and you know that he isn’t about to let today’s little inconvenience go. He’s going to let it consume his thoughts. And again, you try to understand what makes today different from any other time the two of you had to cancel or change plans. You keep coming up blank.

             Xiaojun comes to stand in front of you with a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a sweatshirt. He places them in your hands and tells you that you can change in here and that he’ll change in the bathroom. He turns and disappears into the bathroom leaving you standing in the middle of the room staring at the space where he once stood.

             Shaking yourself you strip out of your wet clothes and chance into the warm clothes that Xiaojun gave you. Once your changed you sit on the end of his bed crossing your legs and resting your head in your hand. You watch the door to the bathroom waiting for it to open. After a few more moments Xiaojun calls out to ask if you are dressed. When you tell him it’s safe to come out you watch him walk out in an outfit similar to yours. He looks at you perched on the end of his bed and the anger that was in his eyes earlier starts to disappear as he makes his way towards you.

             He stops in front of you causing you to tilt your head back to be able to look at him. He looks down at you taking in you wearing his clothes, your wet hair piled on top of your head and Xiaojun wants to reach out and cup your face between his hands. To lean down towards you and to touch his lips to yours. He wants you but he can’t have you, you’re his friend and you are seeing someone else. You are the definition of unavailable. At that thought Xiaojun earlier mood returns, and he finds himself balling his hands up again.

             “Hey what’s with the dark mood again?” You ask as you uncross your legs and come up onto your knees. Reaching out for Xiaojun you place both your hands on his shoulders and give him a slight shake, “What is going on with you today. You have never been this upset before when plans had to change.”

             Xiaojun imagines telling you it all. Telling you how he doesn’t like that you are dating, that every time he has to hear about a date you been on it guts him. How he is irrationally jealous that you spent your time with another man that isn’t him. That someone else gets to hold your hand, kiss you, and be with you. That he hates that he has to share space in your head and heart with another man who might one day take up all the space you have leaving none for him. He almost tells you how he is scared that one day he is going to lose you because you don’t need him any more or because you have to choose a relationship over your friendship with him and you choose the relationship. For a split second he almost tells you it all. But he doesn’t because he’s scared. Instead, he settles for a half truth.

             “I just wanted today to be fun for the two of us. Where all your attention is on us and I don’t have to compete with your boyfriend, “Xiaojun sighs and you widen your eyes at his admission, “I guess I’m feeling some jealousy at having to share you.”

             Pulling Xiaojun into you, you wrap your arms around his neck and burry your face into the crook of his neck. You didn’t want him to ever feel like he had to compete with whoever you were seeing. Doesn’t he know how important he is to you. That all of your relationships have ended because you choose him every time. That as soon as someone you are dating starts to get upset with how much time you spend with him and gives you the line, “him or me,” you pick him every time. That you would gladly cancel your plans with your date if he asked you too.

             “How long have you been feeling like this?” You whisper into his neck. Xiaojun wraps his arms around you securing you to him.

             “Just recently,” he admits, “I think I’m just experiencing some jealous emotions because of how serious you seem to be with this guy.”

             Xiaojun wasn’t lying he was jealous this time compared to all the others because this time it seemed serious. You have been seeing this guy for months now and it didn’t seem like it was staying casual it was moving into the serious territory. You had even mentioned wanting him to meet the guy you were seeing. That was probably when Xiaojun had first experience the feeling of jealousy because he had never met anyone you had dated. This guy was different, important enough to you for you to want him to meet him. And he was worried about what it meant.

             “That doesn’t mean that he’s more important than you,” you pull away from Xiaojun and cup his face between your hands forcing him to look at you, “you will always be the most important person in my life. No matter who I date.”

             “You say that now but,” Xiaojun starts.

             “But nothing!” You firmly tell him. “You will always mean more, always.”

             You stress the last word locking eyes with Xiaojun. You want him to know that you mean it. That no matter who you end up dating, where you end up in life, he will always be the most important person in your life. He was your best friend, more than a best friend and nothing and no one would ever take his place.

             “Okay,” Xiaojun sighs his shoulders sagging and you pull him into another hug. You had thought something was up with him the last time you saw him and now that he admitted what was bothering him you hoped that things between the two of you would get better.

             “Are we okay?” You ask pulling away from him again to look into his eyes.

             “Yeah, we’re okay. We’ll always be okay,” Xiaojun tells you. This time he gives into his hands and reaches one hand out to softly trace the apple of your cheek. As long as he always had you in his life, he would be okay. He just can’t handle losing you, that is something that he knows he would never survive.

[baronesscmd]

@anubis-005 has graciously allowed me to continue writing her sinfully delightful Nene’s Inferno Au, so I bring you the next installment. I hope you enjoy, and thank you. And go check out all her artwork; its absolutely amazing and deserves all the love!

AH! DISCLAIMER! CONTAINS SCENES OF SEXUAL INNUENDO/REFERENCES/SITUATIONS!

 He dropped himself to the ground, pulling her flush against him. One hand curled around her arm as the other caught her chin, bringing her gaze directly to the smoldering golden stare that was attempting to burn her alive. 

Nene's face flushed as he leaned in, tongue flicking over the sharp fangs in his mouth as he tipped his head so the heat of his words brushed against her lips. 

"You won't be needing those clothes."

**

“EXCUSE ME?!!”

Nene felt her pulse stutter and pick up double-time as the demon leaned closer, claws pricking at the soft curve of her cheeks as her whole body burned from his implications. She tried to push away, tried to get as much space between her and the demon before her; he wasn’t having it. The hand on her arm slid around her waist, pinning her tight against his chest as he smirked. 

“Oh yes, my sweet little Angel; that uniform just has to go.”

She felt those claws curl into her sash and tug, and before she could even make a sound, before she could try and push herself away; he moved. His hand slid from her waist to cup her bottom and squeeze, and she shrieked as he hauled her up and over his shoulder. 

He spun on his heel, whistling as he headed deeper into the maze as she tried to get loose. Nene beat her fists against his back and kicked her legs, trying to ignore the sharp curve of his shoulder as it pressed into her belly.

Harder to ignore was the hand hooked around her knees, and the thumb that was making tiny circles against her thigh. Worse than that though, was the hand still on her butt. She struggled harder, flushing as he patted the soft curve of her cheeks. 

 "PUT ME DOWN! AND DONT TOUCH ME!"

Nene let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a scream as the demon chucked, pinching her as he nipped at her hip through the fabric of her dress.

"My my, aren't you a feisty one! You'll be great fun. I can already tell. But you have to behave, my Angel, or your new Master will punish you.

"And while I can guarantee you will not enjoy it, I shall have a delightful time."

She continued to struggle against him until the band around her finger began to burn. She yelped and folded, her chin bouncing into his back as she curled her hands together. 

It hurt, more than anything she had ever experienced. Like something was trying to claw at her soul, to tear her open and lay her bare. She watched through her tears as the demon's tail looped around her wrists, and as suddenly as the pain had come on, it vanished.

"Ah, fun little bit about that Bond, my Angel." 

She stiffened in his grasp as he drew a claw down her thigh before his fingers crept back up to pinch her.

"You cannot disobey me."

Cold stole through Nene's limbs and she went still and silent. The demon laughed, the echo of it reverberating through her own chest in a hollow imitation of joy. The tail squeezed her wrists, and she swallowed back her tears. 

Beneath them, the grassy maze gave way to cobblestones, and she planted her hands against the small of his back as he spun around. 

"Welcome to your new home, Angel."

Nene lifted her head, biting back a gasp at the palace before her; she had not expected something so elegant of a design in Hell. It rose from a tangle of wild roses like a crouching beast, sweeping up into the skyline like nothing she had seen. 

In Heaven, the buildings had been white, and gold and silver-toned. It had felt like walking through a dream, with open shutters and friendly hellos as she passed. This was quite the opposite. 

This was a nightmare of brick, wood, bone, and glass. Shadows hung from the twisted black iron of the balconies like discarded clothes, the stained glass depicting demons in different throes of lust. 

Ivy twisted it's way up the cracks of the black stones, twisting around marble statues carved in obscene positions. She averted her eyes as they passed a set of skeletons, entwined together, forever frozen in the moment of completion. 

And the arch of the grand doorway, before the demon carrying her turned on his heel to march her under it, was carved in stark white bone with the twisted limbs and slack faces of those who had given in to the Sin of Lust.

The inside was as hauntingly beautiful as the exterior, with dark walls and black marble floors. Golden lamps spilled light in fleeting puddles, and Nene saw more than one alcove with the entwined forms of sated bodies. 

He hauled her through the dining hall, whispers rising as the few demons who happened to be awake caught sight of them. Painted mouths disappeared behind razor-tipped nails as she knew they began to gossip, and more than one pair of hungry, hooded eyes raked over her form, leaving her feeling filthy. 

Nene tried to remember the twists and turns he took so she could attempt an escape, but when they passed the same low table with a couple half-concealed beneath it again, she knew he had purposely misled her.

Each path was more confusing than the last, some with high, vaulted ceilings that the light could not illuminate, and others with low curving beams that pulled the shadows close enough to touch. 

And the paintings! Nene could look nowhere and find a patch of wall that was not hung with obscenities. Even what she assumed were flowers, painted in soft brush strokes, resembled a part of her own anatomy that the demon's hand was much too close to.

He took them down a long hallway, the doors at the beginning doing little to conceal the moans and cries of the pleasure-seekers within. She flushed and tried to raise her hands to cover her ears to block out the sounds, but the tail held her fast. 

They turned again, and this hallway was silent but for the echo of his footsteps. His hand stroked from the curve of her waist to the back of her knee before he kicked a door open. 

Nene watched with increasing panic as the heavy wooden doors fell shut behind them, lock sliding into place as her heart sank. She was trapped, completely and utterly. 

She had no time to admire the room, richly decorated in swathes of black and red satin as the demon fisted his hand in the back of her dress and dumped her onto a bed.

It took her a second, as she was consumed by tangled scarlet silk and plush pillows as dark as a raven's wing, that she was not in just any bedroom, tumbled onto a sinfully soft bed. 

Nene was sprawled across the sheets in the bed that belonged to the Lord of Lust, locked in this den of depravity and debauchery. 

She watched with horror as he set a knee to the bed and dragged her closer, pinning her beneath his lithe form as she tried to get away, even though she knew it was useless. His mouth nipped at her throat, tongue sliding up her skin before he sucked a bruise into the tender flesh as he groaned. 

"You taste like innocence and divinity. And I am going to enjoy corrupting you."

He shoved her knees apart and settled against her, and before he could side his hand from her waist to her breast or between her legs, Nene threw her arms against his chest with a cry. 

She wasn't sure who was more surprised as he was tossed back, his black eyes lightening to amber as they both watched the pale gold band form around his tail. She scrambled from beneath him, not getting far before he hooked his hand around her chubby ankle. 

He didn’t draw her back to him, which she found odd, but he seemed more preoccupied with the sharp flicks he made to try and fling the ring off. The swing of it was rather hypnotic, and Nene gasped as his claws bit into her skin as he yanked her down the bed. 

She drew her knees up as he loomed over her, and she watched as his eyes flickered rapidly over her face, as if there was something hidden in her own gaze that would explain what had happened. His mouth split into a wicked smile and he hauled her up, locking one arm around her as she thrashed in his hold as he snapped his fingers. 

Seconds later, three scantily clad demonesses hurried through the door, all wearing the same outfit of a black and white maids uniform, and dipped into deep curtsies. Nene paled as he shoved her forward; the tallest demoness, who had ripped the front of her blouse so that her very generous bust could be seen through the heart shape, caught her by the arm before she could hit the floor. 

“Dress our little Angel in her new uniform; she’ll be joining you in your duties starting today.”

Nene whipped her head around as another of the demoness’ hurried away, the ruffles of her dress barely touching the top of her thighs. He couldn’t really mean to put her in something so revealing, but the sly smile as their eyes met showed that he absolutely did. 

She shrieked as the demons pulled at her uniform, trying to bat their hands away to no avail. The taller one unsnapped the buttons on her collar as the other pulled her sash free, and she could do nothing as the third came back with her arms full of fabric. 

They stripped her quickly and efficiently, though their touch lingered on her skin like a burn. She clung to her thin shift as they tried to pull it off, even as they knocked her off balance to remove her sandals. They couldn’t take her shift, she’d be naked; no one had ever seen her naked. The demoness caught her hands in a bruising grip and bunched the fabric in her free hand.

“Let her keep it.”

They all froze, turning to the Demon Lord reclining on his bed. His grin was as filthy as it was seductive, and Nene tried to draw her hands down to cover herself as his eyes raked over her, his tail flicking lazily against his thigh. She may as well have been completely bare before him with the way his gaze smoldered. 

“Yes, M’Lord.”

She didn’t struggle as they pulled the fabric over her head and harshly tugged her braids free of the collar, didn’t comment as they shoved her into the neat black shoes, muffled a gasp as they tied the bow of her apron with enough force to nearly drive the air from her lungs.

The demons hurried out as he snapped his fingers, one poking back in briefly to drop a mop, broom, and bucket inside the door with a cruel grin before it closed behind her. Nene kept her eyes shut as he crossed the room and curled his hands around her hips. 

There was nothing she could do as he twisted her from side to side and then turned her, trailing his claws across her belly as he pressed his face into her hair. She could feel the curve of his smile against the shell of her ear before he pulled away.

“You might as well look, my little Angel. You’ll be seeing yourself in it for the foreseeable future. Unless you’d like to clean in the nude.”

Nene snapped her eyes open as heat flooded her cheeks, and was surprised to find herself in a uniform that, while still inappropriate, covered much more than she was expecting. The puffed black sleeves left her arms bare, and the dark ruffles of her skirt at least came to her knees. It was actually cute, with the frilled overskirt and pink and white heart over her chest. 

“By the grace of providence we had one in your size.”

She glared at him as he chuckled as he floated behind her, magicing the bucket, mop, and broom into her hands. Providence, as if; more like limitless lechery, she thought as he adjusted her headband. She truly was stuck here, this wasn’t just an elaborate nightmare. 

Nene jumped with a scream as his hand smacked her bottom, cleaning supplies flying as he caught her up in his arms. That damned tail wound around her leg as if it had a mind of its own as he pinned her hands to his chest so he could twirl the ring around her finger. 

“And, my little Angel; a few more things.”

He bent her nearly backward as he slid his knee between her own, the tension in her spine the only thing keeping her from sprawling back over the bed. The ring on her finger seemed to burn with the same intensity as the one tapping against her thigh.

“You will be my personal attendant; you will wake me, bring me meals if I do not dine in the hall. When I do dine in the hall, you shall serve me. Ah ah, I’m not finished,” his finger pressed against her lips to silence her protests, “You will help me bathe, and dress, and cater to any of my whims.”

His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and bring her hips flush to his. The hard lines of his body settled against the soft curves of her own with a familiarity that made her flush. 

“And I shall allow you to keep your innocence; for now.”

The press of him to the intimate place between her thighs made her whimper and tremble, and he only smirked. 

“Also, you shall address me as “My Lord” or “Master” when you speak to me; is that clear, my Angel?”

Nene dipped her head and mumbled as he shifted against her, his tail tightening around her thigh like a demonic garter. 

“I didn’t hear you, Angel.”

She lifted her head, meeting those blazing eyes with her own as she curled her nails into his chest and watched him wince. 

“Yes, Master.”

He dipped his head, mouth a breath from hers as he pressed their bodies closer together. Heat flooded her at every point they met, and she let her eyes flicker down to his lips worriedly.

“Good girl.”

And then he was gone. 

Nene sank onto the edge of the bed as he swept his hand out and the cleaning supplies disappeared with the spilled water. He pulled open the door of his room and gestured into the hall.

“Come along, unless you wish for me to take you now.”

She shot up from the bed and hurried to the entrance, shuttering as he laid his hand on the small of her back to guide her. 

“You have much to see before you help me tonight, and I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

Nene felt despair sink into her soul as he led her back down those twisting halls. There were more demons now, peeking from doorways and corners as they headed to the servants quarters. Eyes followed her every step, and the whispers hung in the air like a death sentence. 

The Lord of Lust had an Angel for a plaything, and wouldn’t he have fun with her? 

Her master’s hand slid lower as his tail lashed against her with every step, and she bit back her tears. This was her own fault, she had gotten herself into this mess. And she would have to be the one to get herself out. There would be no Divine Intervention to save her; the Angels did not listen to the cries that rose from Hell. 

If Nene wanted to escape, she’d have to do it herself.

And @anubis-005 Thank you SOOO much for this again! It is, as always, an honor and pleasure to work with you!!! <3 :3

[six-sanctuary]

Homecoming (Will Miller x Reader)

Author’s note: I’ve never written a fic before but was HEAVILY inspired by all the amazing content @lucrezia-thoughts and @charnelhouse generate (Super hope that's okay!) and wanted to try my hand at it and contribute to Triple Frontier Fr-saturday. (I know I'm a day late whoops)

Also I suck at proofreading I’m so sorry for any errors and hope someone enjoys this. Lowkey proud of myself for not being obnoxiously shy and just saving this to my desktop somewhere for eternity.

Anyways here we go no more rambling this is the fic. If I still dig it later on I might write some more in this lil universe either with Will/Reader or throw in some Benny/reader. Maybe even Santiago/reader if I can get his voice right.

Below the cut is 18+ only please and thanks!

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

You’d always been there, and you always would. It was the sort of realization that crept up slowly on Will. Looking back he wishes he could count the times he counted on you. He wishes he could put it into something concrete like numbers, something that he could wrap his head around, but you were there even before the numbers.

You were there before he was shipped off to war, before he had to learn to count as he breathed, in… two… three… four… five… hold… two… three… four… five…. out… two… three… four… five…. You were there before he broke and crumbled, falling into a million little pieces he didn’t know how to put back together again.

He wished he knew the number of warm smiles you’d given him. He wished he knew what number it took for him to fall in love, whether it was the hundredth or hundredth thousandth soft smile. All he knows now is that so much time was wasted, and he didn’t want to lose a second more.

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

You’d moved to Colorado a few months ago. It had always been part of the plan but that timeline got moved up when Will’s parents announced they were selling the house in favor of something smaller now that they were empty nesters. For a solid week, Will hummed and hawed about it, flip flopping back and forth. The thought of giving up something that was so integral to his childhood, something that had always meant home for him, was hard.

After weeks of his thinly veiled discontent, you came to a solution. After one of his talks, you sat him down in the dining room table of your apartment together and laid out the documents one by one. Rather than explain right away, you let Will take them all in, grabbing each one and skimming it before moving on to the next piece of paper.

“This is…. To buy the house?” Will’s thumbs smoothed over the paper as if in need of a reminder that they were real, that this was real. “My parent’s place?” His voice was thick with emotion, which never failed to bring it out of you. Rather than answer in words and risk your voice failing you, you nodded.

From there it was a lot of packing, a lot of hard work, but with the Delta Force boys help you two managed to get everything packed up in a hauler, ready to make the trek halfway across the country. The thought of being holed up in the car for hours on end with Benny made you the slightest bit nervous. The younger Miller was a bundle of energy and while you appreciated that most of the time, you were wary about being stuck in cramped quarters with the lightning bolt of a man. In the end the cars were split with you and Santiago taking Will’s Ford and Will and Benny driving the Uhaul.

You had a week of the gang’s help, well the gang minus Frankie. He had to head back a few days early to his wife and daughter. The others stayed, even Tom, though he was quick to point out several “serious”problems with the house that you’d need to look into. Despite that, it already felt like home. Sure it needed your and Will’s touch on the place, and a number of things had gone into disrepair as the Millers got older. At some point it had become too much for them, but it was the perfect project for a newlywed couple.

Not once did you regret it. Not when you were lugging heavy boxes up the stairs nor when you learned the roof needed to be replaced. No, each problem was taken in stride because you knew with Will by your side, you’d get through it. There was nothing the two of you could not conquer.

Soon the novelty of the new house wore off and with Benny back at his apartment down the street and Santiago and Frankie back home, you and Will fell into a quiet domesticity. You lived in pieces, your life wrapped up in boxes while you made repairs to the house.

Will, though he meant well, was not as handy as he claimed to be. After the shower incident that required a late-night call to an emergency plumber, your big Delta Force husband was relegated to the simpler tasks, or the ones that required his muscle. If a dresser had to be moved, he was your man, rolling up his sleeves and making it look easy. The same went for anything that required reaching high places (the uppermost cabinets in the kitchen were a real bitch). In the end, Will ended up spending more time turning the side yard into a garden while you turned this old house into your home.

After a month, Will had to go back to work. He’d been requested to give a speech in D.C., back to the other side of the country. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew that this was important to him. You knew how much it mattered to him to feel useful, to feel good about what he did and so with a kiss to the cheek, you promised him that you’d have the kitchen cabinets all painted by the time he came back.

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

Classic rock was softly playing out of the radio you had set up on the counter. Painting was boring work, even more so all by yourself. The radio made you feel less alone and so you hummed along as you worked. Stroke after stroke of paint was rolled onto the cabinets, breathing new life into the space. It was really mindless work and so your thoughts wandered as you painted. You thought about the home, what other projects you had in mind. If you finished the cabinets quickly enough you wanted to tackle the downstairs bathroom too before Will got back.

He'd called every night but it wasn’t the same as him being here. If you were lucky, you got him on FaceTime and got to see his face light up when you appeared on his screen. Even with the small image of him on your phone he was so handsome, golden and bright. You’d called him your Apollo once, god of the sun, and he’d found that funny. Ben was picking him up from the airport tomorrow and driving him home and then you’d have your sun again.

The opening of the front door snapped you out of your thoughts, your head whipping around. “Honey?” His gruff voice was unmistakable to you. Without a second thought your paintbrush was set down, dripping slightly off the drop cloth though that was a problem for later. Your feet carried you to him, flinging yourself into his arms when you saw him standing there in the foyer. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the smell of him as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “We finished early and I wanted to surprise you.” It was definitely a surprise.

His hand moved from the small of your back to your chin, gently lifting it to place a soft kiss on your lips. “I missed you,” you breathed before stealing another. “I know.” He always knew. He knew every time he left you would miss him and he would miss you. You’d play this game and then he’d come home and reclaim you. One kiss turned into two, which then turned into three and four. Your hands moved to his short blonde hair, moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, ever closer.

Leaving his bags at the door, you two tangled, desperate for contact, desperate for two to become one again. He picked you up, something you’d normally protest as your feet worked just fine, but instead you let him carry you up the stairs, deeper into your home, to your bedroom.

With a playful grin he tossed you onto the bed, nearly chuckling at the way you almost bounced. His amusement only lasted a moment before lust and his need to have you took over. He descended on you on the bed, lips crashing into yours for a heated kiss as his tongue grazed against your lower lip. He was everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses as his name repeated over and over in your head like a mantra.

Will… Will… Will…

His large hands held your wrists above your head, somehow managing the dichotomy of being gentle but firm, while his lips retraced every curve of your skin. Every time he came back the routine was the same. Will wanted, no needed to learn you again, to cover every soft spot that made you sigh to ensure you were the same as when he had left. He needed to know and so he kissed you, his trimmed beard tickling as he slowly made his way down your body earning soft moans along the way.

He only left your wrists when he got to your legs, separating them and placing one over his shoulder as you laid back on the bed. There he paused, looking down at you so bare and exposed and wet beneath him. It was hard not to move under his gaze. “God you’re so beautiful.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you whined out his name. He placed a less-than-chaste kiss on your inner thigh before moving closer, breathing in your heady scent. Licking your folds, he let his tongue circle your clit, smirking at the sounds leaving your lips.

He knew your body like the back of his hand and it took no time at all for him to bring you to that peak of pleasure. Closer and closer, more and more you felt your body respond to him, your hips rolling up against his tongue, hands fisting in the sheets or his hair whichever was closer. “C’mon baby,” he coaxed, slipping a finger into your slick heat, curling it to stroke the soft spot that made you cry out and shudder around him.

“That’s one.”

And you knew your husband would follow through with another. He collected your orgasms like some collected baseball cards, counting each and every one. No night ended with just one, leaving you spent exhausted and so satisfied at the end.

Wiping the wetness from his face, he kneeled next to you, watching as your breathing rate came back down, waiting for the sign that he could have you again. As you blinked the haze away, his hands trailed up and down your side, drawing absent patterns against your soft skin. The look in his eyes of restrained hunger made your mouth go momentarily dry, reigniting the flames of passion within you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you used your other hand to reach for him, pulling him over you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. After tossing his shirt away, his calloused hands move to your thigh, hiking it up over his hip. You had only a moment to take in the sight of him, the well-toned muscle, the scar on the left side of his stomach, before you two crashed together once more. Your hips ground against the hard bulge in his pants, leaving a dark patch in the denim. You needed more, more friction, more him.

He pulled away only long enough to unbutton his pants, kick off his boots and rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Standing at the edge of the bed, he stroked his impressive length a few times as he admired your naked form. Then the wait was too long and crawled over you, lining himself up and so agonizingly slowly pushing himself into you. You tried to be still but it seemed your body had something else in mind as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him ever closer.

“Someone’s eager,” he breathed, both of you knowing full well that neither of you had the patience to wait much longer. Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he moved, hips snapping into you at a quick pace, his size stretching you in ways no one else ever could. Your body molded to fit around him, your leg wrapping around him once more in an effort to guide him ever deeper. He bottomed out in you before pulling out and pressing into you again and again and again. Each motion put stars behind your eyes, the fireworks building to another crescendo.

You felt him get closer, the rhythm of his hips losing itself as he continued to thrust into you, hips stuttering as the pleasure overwhelmed. “One more honey, I know you have one more.” His low throaty growl in your ear was enough to push you over the brink, your hands clamoring for purchase on his back and shoulders as you cried out once more. Your core clenched down on him and it took only a few more hurried thrusts before you felt his hot seed shooting into you as he let out a low grunt.

His forehead rested against yours as he remained where he was, not wanting to pull out of you just yet. A thin sheen of sweat covered the both of your bodies and despite that you didn’t think either of you were finished quite yet. You had a full week of time apart to make up for. Will pulled his head back from your forehead to give you another soft kiss, this one lacking the passion and lust but more than making up for that with the love and affection he poured into it. “It’s good to be home.”

[crazywritertomboy1224]

⚠️threesome with two men⚠️ ⚠️gay⚠️

here’s a Present Mic x Shōta Aizawa x non-binary (assigned fem!) listener for all you aizawa or mic weebs. enjoy!!

*this was written for my non-binary friend so if you don’t like it you can leave 😁*

bondage kink

double c0cks

well, if you made it this far, go ahead!

Alone in his classroom, Aizawa sits at his desk grading papers.

“Shota!” Present Mic yells enthusiastically, entering Class 1-A’s room with an excitement impossible to match.

“Hey, Hizashi,” Aizawa replies tiredly.

“How was your day?” Mic asks, walking around to stand behind Aizawa and slaps him on the back.

“Ugh. Exhausting,” Aizawa replies.

“Oh. Anything in particular happen?” Mic asks comfortingly.

Aizawa opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Mr. Aizawa?” you ask cautiously. Aizawa turns in his chair to face you.

“Yes, Y/N, how can I help you?” He asks, turning his head to follow your movements as you move around to lean over the front of his desk. “I had a question about the work studies.” you speak. You hunch over the desk and look up at both men.

You watch in amusement as they struggle not to look down at your plump breasts as the tops of them spill over your low-cut shirt. You try to hint at them through your eyes that you want more than just work study help. Aizawa stands from his chair and walks around on your right to stand behind you.

He places his hands on your hips and gently presses you against his bulging cock. He leans over your back and whispers in your ear, “Is this what you really wanted, kittycat?” That simple question sent chills through your body. You bite your lower lip as you feel your pussy throb in anticipation.

“Yes, daddy.” you dip your lower back down to stick your ass out farther and feel his cock slowly harden against it.

Present Mic runs his fingers up your forehead and into your hair. He latches on to your roots and tugs your head upward, then slides his hand around your jawline and cups your chin. You feel Aizawa’s scarf start to wrap around your wrists. You tighten your neck muscles to lean your weight on Mic’s hand as the scarf pulls your hands out from under you and secures them behind your back. Aizawa’s hand laces around your wrists and tugs on them, allowing you to put your weight on your feet again.

With your head tilted farther up, it’s easier for Mic to kiss you. He leans down and presses his lips to yours and starts to penetrate your mouth with his tongue. You start rubbing your tongue against his and he responds the same way. “You’re so good at this, Y/N,” Present Mic murmurs against your mouth.

Aizawa tugs on the waistband of your leggings, then slings them all the way down to your ankles. You shift your weight to step out of the pants. He growls and slaps your ass. “Fuck, kittycat.” he leans down and licks your asscheeks.

He tugs on the scarf to make your wrists pull you back toward him. You let out a moan against Present Mic’s mouth as Aizawa slides his tongue down your ass and starts to attack your pussy. He drags his tongue along your folds, licking up all the wetness already there. He smacks your ass again, then shoves his hand up your shirt, under your bra and starts to caress your tits.

Present Mic drops his hand from under your chin, your lips still pressed together, and rips the shirt off your body. Your lips separate for a second as he removes it entirely. He reaches back and unclips your bra, then flings both the shirt and the bra across the room.

I’m so glad I chose a strapless bra,  You think to yourself as Aizawa trails his fingers through your slick folds again.

“Fuck, kitty. You’re so wet for me.” he growls. You let out a soft, high-pitched moan as he presses his lips to that sensitive bundle of nerves up at the top and snakes his tongue against them. He moves his tongue against it so perfectly, it feels like it’s vibrating.

Your legs start to twitch as he goes faster and faster, feeling you almost at your limit. He pushes you to the edge, then stops.

“Please, daddy. I need to cum,” You moan, writhing your hips against his fingers. He stands up, grabs your wrists again, then pulls you away from Mic. You start to pant as he leads you away from the desk.

“Not yet, kittycat. You can wait, can’t you?” Aizawa places a hand on Mic’s shoulder and presses his back against the board. Aizawa tightens his hold on the scarf, still around your wrists, and presses you into Mic’s chest.

Aizawa swipes two fingers through your folds and licks his fingers. “You taste so fucking good, kittycat,” He growls, smacking your ass again. Mic cups the top of your head and shoves it down, so your mouth can easily wrap around his cock. You wrap your lips around your teeth, so as to not scratch his dick. You twirl your tongue around the tip of it, and feel him throw his head back and moan in pleasure. He shoves your head down farther, all the way to the base, but only for a second. He allows you to pull back, drool coming off in threads.

Present Mic grabs your hair again and lifts your head up, to his level. He presses his lips to yours and you resume your make-out session. You let out an ear-splitting moan against Mic’s mouth as Aizawa strokes his cock through your slick folds, then thrusts all the way in. He hunches over your back and waits for your reassurance before beginning to thrust deep and hard. With every thrust, you’re shoved farther and harder into Mic. Present Mic pulls away, both of you gasping for air. He reaches down and starts to stroke his cock, getting it ready for the next step.

“You think you can handle two cocks?” He whispers in your ear, looking at Aizawa.

“Yeah,” You moan softly. Mic looks over at Aizawa, who reaches around to your left and grabs Mic’s cock. He pumps it up and down a few times, making sure it’s ready. Aizawa moves closer to Mic, squashing you between them, causing you to straighten. You feel Aizawa’s strong hands start to press Mic’s cock into your pussy along with his own. Your eyes widen as Mic slowly flexes to enter much slower than Aizawa did, giving you time to adjust and get used to two cocks. Slowly, slowly, Mic’s thrusts get harder, faster and deeper, until they’re alternating thrusts.

When Mic goes to flex out, Aizawa enters farther, and vice versa. You moan as the friction against your cunt levels up. Your pussy tightens around their cocks and they groan simultaneously. You grit your teeth to hold back another moan as they start thrusting deeper and faster. You refuse to cum first, but so do they, so it’s just a silent argument on who’s going to cum first. Mic slams hard into you one last time and shoots cum deep inside of you.

You feel your orgasm take over and you shudder out your own release, all over Aizawa’s cock, which is still pressed inside you.

“Oh, fuck, kittycat.” You hear Aizawa say as his cum sprays into you, probably deeper than Mic’s. Aizawa pulls out his softening cock and grabs your waist to support you as you feel your legs start to collapse. Mic pulls Aizawa’s desk chair over and Aizawa helps you onto it. You try to calm down as the two men begin to get dressed. Aizawa pulls on his boxers and pants, then comes over and kneels in front of you. “You good, Y/N?” He asks, a hand on your knee.

“Yeah, thanks for asking.” you say sheepishly.

“Okay. Good.” he pushes off your knee and stands up. He walks across the room, grabs your clothes, and hands them to you.

“Thank you,” you say, ducking your head to hide the fact that you’re blushing. You stand up shakily and start getting dressed as Aizawa pulls his shirt on and fixes his scarf. Mic adjusts his glasses and walks over to you as you’re securing your bra.

“Need some help with that?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you.” You reply. He walks around to stand behind you and clips it together with expertise. He slides his hand around your waist as he walks around you. He places his other hand on your waist and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thank you for that,” He says against your lips. “That was amazing.” Aizawa says his agreeal as he walks over to you two.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Let’s do it again sometime?”

They both tilt their faces down to try to hide their excitement, but fail. “Yeah!” They say in almost perfect sync.

[coffeeinallcaps]

wip/rip meme: sw poe panic attacks

(Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!) In which Poe is FINE, he’s JUST FINE, GUYS, NO PROBLEMS HERE.

Two weeks after the Battle of Starkiller Base, Poe wakes up without a headache for the first time since Jakku. Sitting up doesn’t make him feel sick, and the lights don’t set off stabs of pain behind his eyes. There’s no wave of dizziness when he gets to his feet.

Sweet, he thinks before making his way to the refresher.

--

BB-8 is running preflight diagnostics when Poe gets to the hangar. The others are already there. Bastian is walking around his ship, checking the underside of the hull. Jessika waves at Poe from where she’s talking to one of the ground technicians, her helmet tucked under her other arm. Poe waves back.

“Morning, sunshine,” Iolo says, slapping Poe on the shoulder as Karé says, “All right, boss?”

“Yeah,” Poe says, and he means it. He feels good, well rested in a way he hasn’t felt since, well.

The feeling lasts until they’re about to take off.

One moment he’s fine. The next the canopy is coming down, closing in around him, and he panics.

The feeling doesn’t register as panic right away. It’s—it’s something primal, a sudden visceral overwhelming sense of wrong, something is wrong, he needs to get out of here—

“Stop,” he says, “BB-8, stop, abort,” and BB-8 overrides the control system, beeps inquisitively. Poe can’t answer the question, because he’s breathing too fast and too loud—heart beating wildly in his chest, throat, ears—and he’s already strapped in but he needs to get out, he’s stuck and the cockpit is way too small, there’s not enough room, not enough air, he can’t think, can’t breathe.

That’s when he realizes, I’m panicking.

It’s like his consciousness has split in two. He’s right here, gasping for air and ineffectually tugging at the buckles of his harness, but another part of him is divorced from all this, hovering somewhere in the back of his own mind thinking What. The. Hell.

What the hell are you doing, Dameron. Calm the fuck down. Get your shit together. You’re being irrational.

And yes, he knows, he knows that, knows it doesn’t make sense, but he needs to get out.

The buckles finally give way, and he’s moving, scrambling out of the cockpit, down the ladder that hasn’t been retracted yet. His foot slips on the last rung. He stumbles backward until his back is pressed up against something.

He still can’t breathe, still feels trapped—he reaches for his helmet, it takes him three tries to undo the chin strap, he manages to wrench the helmet off his head and lets it drop to the floor.

He’s sweating. His chest is heaving under his flak vest. It feels like he’s being punched in the diaphragm over and over again, like he’s going to be coughing up blood any second from now. Like Kylo Ren—

The vest needs to come off, too, but his hands keep slipping on it.

People are standing around him. He can see the scuffed toes of their boots, the dirty orange and olive green legs of their flight suits. “Take it off,” he hears himself say, between gasps, “take it off, take it off,” and they help him out of the vest, pull open the collar of his flight suit.

The part of Poe’s mind that is hanging back notes that this is embarrassing. A deeply humiliating experience. The part of Poe’s mind that’s panicking is unable to register it as such. The observation emerges behind an impenetrable transparisteel panel. It’s right there, he can see it, but he can’t reach it and it can’t reach him.

Someone—Jess?—says, sharply, “Step back, guys, give him some fucking space,” and someone else says, “No, I think—” and Poe closes his eyes, thinks, Yes, space, I need space, give me space and then two arms are winding tight around him. No, let go, he thinks, eyes still closed, Let me go I need and then Finn? but it can’t be Finn, Finn is still in the med bay, still in a coma, Finn is—

He struggles, half-heartedly. It’s a relief to have something physical to struggle against, instead of just the awful sense of terror ballooning in his chest, clawing at his windpipe. It gives him something to focus on. His panicking self and his observing self merge. The transparisteel panel between them drops away, and shame comes rushing in.

He takes a gulping breath and goes limp.

It’s Bastian who’s holding him. He’s trapped again, trapped between the wall and Bastian’s body, but Bastian’s body is warm and familiar and hiding him from view so it’s not too bad, really, to be trapped here. When he looks straight ahead, he can see the vast expanse of the hangar. The rectangle of sunlight at the end is a comforting sight.

This whole thing can’t have lasted longer than, what, five minutes? ten minutes? but Poe is fucking exhausted. He’s shaking, he realizes.

“Hey,” Jess says. “Poe.”

It’s just her and Bastian now. The others are gone.

Another hot, nauseating rush of shame washes over him.

“Poe. Look at me.” Jess is dabbing Poe’s face with her sleeve. It comes away soaked, he sees. Her other hand brushes against his cheek. “You with us?”

Poe nods. He’s still catching his breath. He doesn’t think he can speak. He thinks that if Bastian let go of him, he’d crumble to his knees.

Bastian doesn’t let go. He takes a small step back, but keeps his hands on Poe’s shoulders.

We’re late, Poe thinks. We need to leave. He wants to say it out loud, but the thought of getting back into his ship makes his throat close up again and a fresh layer of sweat break out on his forehead.

Jess wipes it away. She and Bastian are talking with their eyes. Poe appreciates the fact that neither of them is asking him what the hell just happened. He also appreciates the fact that neither of them is asking him if he’s okay.

The moment stretches on.

They’re late. They need to leave.

He can’t fucking get it past his teeth.

“You guys should go,” Poe says eventually, the words scraping at the dry inside of his throat. His voice sounds raw, wrecked.

Jess lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good,” she says. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

It’s the only right thing to say. He’d be putting all of them in danger if he tried to fly, let alone lead a mission, in this condition. He takes a breath. Still that pressure in his chest, like there’s a wet cloth lodged between his lungs and his ribcage. It’s like trying to breathe in deeply on a hot and humid planet. Like trying to breathe when Ren—

Poe swallows, shakes his head, says, “We have to...”

“Snap’s on his way down here,” Jess says. “We’ll be all right. I’ll take it from here. The only thing you have to do is go see Dr. Kalonia.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Bastian offers, and Poe wants to say no, wants to tell them to get out of here, it’s fine, he’ll be fine, but then he realizes one of his hands is fisted into Bastian’s flight suit, clenched so tight his fingers have gone numb. It hurts to let go.

One of Bastian’s hands stays on Poe’s lower back, barely there, as they walk. Poe doesn’t stop at the med bay. Bastian wordlessly keeps up with him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Poe says when they get to his quarters.

“Anytime,” Bastian says, with a small, soft smile that makes Poe want to sink through the floor.

He lies back on his bed with his arms folded over his face. They’re trembling. His whole body is trembling. He closes his eyes and tries to block out his thoughts.

He doesn’t move until the doors slide open.

“Poe,” Dr. Kalonia’s voice says.

Poe says, “Doctor.”

His head doesn’t swim when he pushes himself up on his hands. It doesn’t quite feel like the victory it did this morning. The familiar sour taste at the back of his throat is back, but he guesses it has little to do with a lingering concussion and more to do with what happened in the hangar just now.

Kalonia doesn’t start off by asking him questions, which—again—Poe appreciates. She sits down next to him on the bed. Her fingertips are light on his cheek when she checks his pupil response. She listens to his heart and lungs, takes his pulse.

“Headaches been bothering you?” she asks.

Poe shakes his head.

“Dizzy spells?”

“Not anymore.”

“When did your symptoms go away?” After a pause, during which she puts her flashlight back into her pocket and loops her stethoscope around her neck again, she adds, “I’m assuming they went away, because you never did come back for a final check-up.”

“Um,” Poe says, scratching the back of his neck. Dr. Kalonia reminds him of his grandmother sometimes; there are very few people in the galaxy who can inspire this amount of guilt in him this quickly. “I felt pretty good this morning?” He can’t help but add, “And in my defense, we’ve all been pretty busy.”

“From what my droids tell me, it seems you are perfectly capable of finding the time to stop by the med center for other reasons.”

Finn.

“Well, I mean, all’s fair in love and war, right?” Poe says. And then, “I am sorry, Doc.”

She smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Trust me, I would’ve known where to find you if I needed to.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening, Doc.”

“Good.” She sits back. “Look, Poe, I could run some more tests, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing physically wrong with you right now.”

“Clean bill of health, then,” Poe jokes.

“Not quite, I’m afraid.”

The doors slide open again.

“Oh,” Rey says, looking at Dr. Kalonia. “I’ll go.” She doesn’t move.

“It’s fine,” Poe says.

“I can wait.”

“It’s fine.”

Rey shrugs, then crosses the room and perches on the windowsill with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. There’s dirt under her fingernails. She smiles at Poe.

He smiles back at her.

“I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with you,” Dr. Kalonia says. “I think you had a panic attack. A severe one.”

(MORE TALKING)

(KALONIA LEAVES)

Poe throws one arm over his eyes again. “Come over here?” he says, flinging out his other arm in Rey’s direction, palm upward.

It’s a suggestion, not a request. He and Rey have been thrust together through their mutual connection with Finn. They’ve been spending a lot of time at his bedside together. Poe still hasn’t figured Rey out, not entirely, and he’s pretty sure Rey still hasn’t figured him out, either. Rey is still figuring herself out, life on the Resistance base seeming both exciting and overwhelming to her.

The mattress dips under Rey’s weight. She leaves some space between their bodies, but she puts her hand on his stomach, pillows her head on his arm. He can hear her breathe, soft and calm.

“Are you okay?” she says eventually, cautiously. There’s something about the way she asks the question that briefly makes Poe’s chest feel like it’s caving in.

He clears his throat, says, “Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound very convincing. She doesn’t call him out on it.

“Wanna go outside?” she says. “It’s sunny. There’s fresh air, and trees.”

“Really,” Poe says.

She shoves him.

“Careful,” he says reflexively. “Don’t damage the goods.”

Rey says, unimpressed, “Seriously?”

Poe’s chest still hurts. He lets his arm slide off his face, presses the heel of his palm against his ribs. It doesn’t help.

“You know what, fresh air sounds pretty good,” he says, sitting up.

“Good call,” Rey says.

[jaalismyhusband]

Roommates (part 5)

Title: Roommates

Pairings: Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: stalking, language, smut smut smut

Wordcount: 1.8k

Catch up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Masterlist

Part 5

After the fight, Bucky had his breakfast in silence. Steve tried to talk to him, only to fall on deaf ears. After a half an hour of Bucky not responding to his attempts to make a conversation, he gave up.

Bucky knew he had to act quickly or he would lose the chance to get together with Y/N. And just when things were going so well for them! But no, he had to fuck up monumentally. Although, he wasn’t losing hope, yet. He just had to eliminate competition.

Determined to succeed, he left the kitchen and made his way to Y/N’s room, only to find her already gone. She must have snuck out.

��Two can play this game, doll,” He muttered under his nose and followed her to the café.

He parked his car two streets away, in order not to get recognized. Putting a black baseball cap on his head, he blended with pedestrians. Seven minutes later, he found himself just across the street from the café, with the perfect view through the glass windows. That’s when he spotted Y/N. She was about to finish ordering. Good, he wasn’t too late.

As he was watching them, he tried to figure out, if and how should he intervene. He couldn’t just show up at their table. Hey, uhm, so I have been stalking you for a while and I really don’t appreciate how close you are to my almost girlfriend - there was no way in hell he could come up to them, without compromising himself. He knew he had to stay calm and keep his distance.

However, the sight of Y/N holding hands with Jason had him fuming. In a way, he envied him. Jason had something, or someone, he wanted. And from the looks of it, Bucky won’t get his hands on her in a near future, if he doesn’t do something about it. But now, the only thing he could possibly do, was to continue to watch them. Mostly, they were talking and laughing, whilst holding hands.

After what seemed like unnecessary number of laughs to Bucky, Y/N finally stood up, as well as Jason. Bucky clenched his jaw, when he saw them hug. Although, what really hurt him, was a subtle kiss, that Y/N planted on Jason’s cheek. After they pulled apart, Jason looked lovestruck and Y/N gave him a heart-warming smile, that Bucky adored. The fact that he wasn’t on the receiving end of it, stirred something in him. He couldn’t stand watching them anymore. He got to get away. Looking around him frantically, he felt a rush of what he thought was an anger and fled the scene.

He decided to finally make her his.

Y/N felt good after the talk with Jason. Their closure brought her much needed relief. She was ready to come home, take a bath and munch on some snacks. She totally deserved it. As soon as she got to the Stark Tower, she filled her promises to herself. Warmed up after the bath, dressed in comfortable clothes and armed with a controller, she camped on the couch and took out her frustration shooting hostile aliens in her favourite video game.

There was only one piece missing of her serenity. Bucky. She hadn’t seen him throughout the whole day and was getting progressively worried and tad bit sad. Making peace with the fact that they will only stay friends, she sighed and made way to her bed. She succeeded in distracting herself from the drama, but nonetheless, her thoughts started wandering Bucky’s way anyway. No matter what happened between them, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She changed into her pyjamas and got under covers. Laying on her back, she zoned out, whilst looking at the ceiling. Ugh, why can’t I get over him, she huffed. Turning on her side, she fell asleep.

Bucky was miserable. He almost lost Y/N today, for good. He could always kidnap her and keep her with him, but he didn’t want to take such an unnecessary measure. If there was a chance to get her willingly, he would try. That didn’t mean, he wasn’t tempted to do so. As much as he wanted to give her space and time, he wasn’t cool with fucking around and not doing any progress in their relationship. They were stagnating during her whole fling with Jason and just when he thought, they took a step in a right direction, he made them take two back. He basically rushed her to Jason’s arms, again.

“Fuck,” he let out a frustrated sigh. He had to do something, right now.

And so here he was, standing over Y/N’s sleeping form. He learned, that she was a deep sleeper. For many nights, he tried to be as stealthy and quiet as possible, but as the time went on, he found out, that even his mumblings aren’t enough to wake her. So, he talked away the nights spent next to her. He told her about his day, then proceeded onto his dreams and plans for the future – many of them involving her. Oh, how he wished to tell her about those, while she was awake. He couldn’t help, but took her sleeping form in, admiring how her nose scrunched, when she dreamed. Sometimes he stole a cheeky kiss. Other times he tried his luck, touching himself right in front of her. Maybe he wanted to be caught in the act. He dared her to wake up. Although, she never did. But tonight, he was going to stay here long enough for her to wake.

Morning sun invaded her room, landing its rays on her face, stirring her from her slumber. Feeling refreshed, she moved to stretch her rested body, only to be restricted by handcuffs.

“What the hell?” she mumbled to herself, as she tugged on her wrists once more.

“You’re awake. Good.” A deep voice startled her. Bucky.

“What is this? Uncuff me, right now.” She wanted to sound confident, but her demand came out as a pathetic whimper once her eyes met Bucky’s dominant gaze. He was standing in front of her bed only in his underwear. Y/N zoned out, admiring his godly body and her mouth watered at the visible bulge. He was big.

“I think we both know, what will happen.” A cocky grin plastered over his face.

“Yes, you’ll untie me and then I’ll kick your ass.” Y/N said, trying to resist the wetness pooling in her underwear.

“Feisty. I like that.” Bucky smirked as he climbed on her bed. “We’ll see how long you can keep that attitude on for.” And with that, he kissed her. Y/N was in pure shock. She had to remind herself to move her lips and not only gawk at her beautiful best friend, who was finally kissing her.

So, it wasn’t one-sided after all! Or this is another dream. A very cruel dream. But Bucky’s warm calloused hands exploring her body were, for sure, real. They pulled away to catch their breaths, staring each other right in the eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I first saw you.” Bucky cooed. Y/N replied by pulling him for another heated kiss. Bucky then descended down to her swan-like neck, marking her for everyone to see, who she belonged to from now on. She moaned desperately, as Bucky started grinding his hips against hers, while simultaneously playing with her nipples.

“Bucky, please, I need you.” She looked at him, with her eyes hooded. Hearing her beg made something in him snap. He lost control, turning feral. Tearing right through her clothes, he moaned at the sight of her bare body.

“My pretty little girl.” His words made Y/N blush.

“Please…” She squirmed under him, impatient for his touch.

“Tell me, what do you want, doll?” He wanted to make their first time slow, to devour her, to make her go crazy by the time he would finally enter her. All that was forgotten after her reply.

“I need you inside me, Bucky,” she said, her voice timid, just above a whisper. Although it was all the consent Bucky needed for wrecking her tight aching hole.

Quickly, he slipped out of his boxers, making his cock sprung free. Y/N gasped at his size, worried look in her eyes as he reassured her, that he’ll go slow.

He reached between her legs, only to find her dripping and needy for his stuffing. He plunged his two metal fingers in, making her gasp at the sudden cold sensation. Coating them in her wetness, he scissored her, while watching her face expression intently.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” She huffed, clearly frustrated with him, while he only laughed and withdrew his fingers. He smeared her juices on his throbbing cock, mixing them with precum, that was leaking from his angry red tip.

Not wasting any more time, he lined himself up with her entrance. They moaned in unison as he slowly split her in half. She cried out at the impossible stretch, but soon accommodated to his girthy length. His hand wandered to her clit as to ease her pain. Soon enough, he started rocking his hips back and forth.

She struggled against the restrains, wanting to touch Bucky. She would scratch his back, rake through his hair and pull on it, make him know, how good he was making her feel.

“Tell me, who this tight pussy belongs to.” Bucky’s growl went straight to Y/N’s core.

“You, o-only you,” she stuttered, as he hit that special spot with a pronounced thrust.

He sped up, whispering filthy things to her. She could only lie there and take it. Her brain was fogged and the only thing she could think of was her nearing orgasm.

“Fuck, I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezing my cock, you little slut.” Bucky exclaimed, making Y/N moan at his dirty talk. He thrusted even deeper, getting her closer and closer with each jerk of his hips.

“Cum all over my cock, babygirl. I know you want to.” He wasn’t wrong. Not long after, Y/N came with almost a pornographic moan, as he kept fucking her through her orgasm. Her pussy throbbed from overstimulation.

“I want you to cum in me, daddy.” She whispered. Bucky lost control after hearing the title he was given and fucked her harder into the mattress. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. The overstimulation. The pain. The pleasure. It was all too much.

Bucky’s thrusts became sloppy as he shot his seed deep into her, pulling another orgasm from her, as well. Her walls tightened, milking every drop of his potent elixir. He threw his head back, as he stilled inside of her, vein on his neck bulging out. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple, onto his jaw and neck, making way towards his muscled torso and Y/N thought, he never looked hotter.

Still sheathed deep inside of her, his lips met hers in a breathless kiss. After he uncuffed her, they both laid next to each other, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss.

“Why? Not that I’m complaining,” asked Y/N. Bucky pulled her close.

“I needed to claim you for myself.” He flashed her a toothy grin.

“Well, mission successful,” replied Y/N as she cuddled into him.

THE END

@vicmc624​ @ok-but-loki​ 

[pixxiesdust]

Tempest’s Allure • Todoroki Shouto

Summary • When the skies open, Todoroki knows that he’ll find you dancing—a lethal, beautiful dance—in the rain.

Pairing • Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Word Count • 1.5k

Tags and Warnings • Pure fluff, pre-established relationship, characters are in class 3-A (18 years old).

Note • This is my second entry for @bnhabookclub​’s Hero Camp Bingo! The prompt is dance in the rain. Thank you to @hawks-senseis​, @prismaroyal​, and @samanthaa-leanne​ for betaing this fic!

more bingo fics here

–

Todoroki’s pencil scratches across his worksheets, flying through lines of English practice as his mind works to race through the next problem. He looks up and out the window in his dorm room to take in the dark clouds blotting out the afternoon sun, and quickly returns to his English homework. Although he always gets through his work at a relatively fast pace compared to his peers, the ominous sky makes him push himself to finish it faster.

After all, you’re about to put on a show that he wouldn’t miss for the world.

A flash of lightning streaks from the sky, spreading tendrils of bright light against a dark tapestry and vanishes into nothing at the blink of an eye.

The first raindrop of the oncoming storm hits Todoroki’s window with a tap. The bead of water hangs there, too small to move, trembling with tension.

Before the second droplet can join the first on the glass, Todoroki’s pencil clatters against his desk. He’s out of his chair and out the door, not even bothering to lock the slab of wood behind him.

His steps against the dorm hallways are unusually hurried.

As he rushes past the dorm’s living room where Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida seem to be studying, he barely pauses as they call his name.

Midoriya looks to Uraraka with concerned eyes, but she only giggles and shouts, “Have fun, Todoroki!”

But she’s only speaking to air. Todoroki is already out the front door and into the rain.

–

The drops come down faster now, soaking into his clothes, the fabric contouring to the lines of his muscles.

He doesn’t care that the rain is a little cold and that the wind makes him even colder. Todoroki just slightly activates his quirk, and a flare of warmth covers his body, but his steps do not falter as he hurries to the training grounds.

He knows exactly where you are: training area B. It’s a dry, sandy arena that forces you to push your water manipulation quirk to its limits, and you’ve been there almost daily over the past couple of weeks.

But with the rain coming down in heavy torrents, the training ground wouldn’t be very dry after all.

That’s exactly what he’s looking forward to.

The training arena’s doors are soon before him, and Todoroki pushes them open without any hesitation.

The area is flat and the sandy ground has darkened because of the rain, but he pays little mind to those details.

They’re insignificant when compared to you.

–

When lightning strikes and thunder rumbles while you are training, you don’t retreat from the outside grounds like others probably would have. Instead, a wide smile spreads across your face, and the strain you’ve started to feel from using your quirk for hours disappears.

The first drop of rain falls from the sky. It doesn’t hit the ground. With one flick of your finger, it arcs through the air in an unnatural movement, until it lands on your skin and quickly disappears.

It’s cool and eases the aching feeling of your skin being too tight from dehydration—the result of starting to edge into the limits of your quirk.

As more droplets fall, you take control of them so they land on you, until the skies open and sheets of rain pelt your skin, soaking into your training clothes and into your hair. Rain rolls down your cheeks, tracing the lines of your face, dripping off your nose and chin. Some cling to your eyelashes, adorning them with sparkling spheres.

You welcome it.

Once you’re soaked to the bone, you start moving, activating your quirk to take control of the water that surrounds you. You pull rain together with a sweep of your hand. Drops coalesce into a shimmering mass of water, hovering in the air, despite the howling wind that battles you for control.

Then you put yourself through familiar moves. Though they’re normally for warming up and are languid, stretching motions, you have the added difficulty of maintaining your balance in the heavy wind, as well as controlling the water that you swirl around your body in time with the movement.

You settle down in a lunge. Your legs are stretched, low and grounded, but your focus is on the water that you pass from above your right hand to your left, then back to your right again.

Once your thigh starts to burn, as you pass the water to your left hand, you straighten up in one smooth movement, and settle back down into another lunge—this time on your other leg.

When the burn starts up again, you straighten once more, then start spinning in slow circles. Your body flows into each move, much like the water you control, from the circles to stretching up toward the sky, then sweeping your legs out in smooth motions before standing on them again.

Thunder rumbles as more rain falls, continuously adding water to the already large amount that you control. You finish your stretches, slowly dropping your arms down after holding them up to the sky.

The water, split into two large masses, rests under your palms.

You take a deep breath. Then another.

Though the sound of rain hitting the floor is nearly deafening, it fails to mask the sound of the training ground door opening.

Your muscles tense. You hold your breath.

Then the door shuts, your skin prickles as you feel silver and blue eyes on you, and you begin your dance.

–

You fling your arms out from your sides. The spheres of water that once rested beneath your palms fragment into thousands of droplets, scattering away from you, indistinguishable from the sheets of rain that fall from the sky.

Then you spin. You step on one leg as you pivot, then leap onto the other, gathering falling rain with your arms so it circles you like shimmery streamers, blurring your waist, your wrists, your ankles.

Three rotations later, you send the water away from you and it blends into the rain again.

Holding up your arms, palms facing away from your body, your fingers strain and your muscles grow taut as you concentrate.

And then–

–everything is still.

The only thing that moves are your shoulders as you work to draw in air with every breath. There’s no sound of rain hitting the damp floor of the training area, even though lightning flashes across the sky and thunder rumbles with an intensity that you can feel in your bones.

Millions of tiny spheres hover in place, despite the wind that howls against them and tugs at the fabric of your training clothes. The droplets gleam as lightning lights up their surface, scattering bits of light for a fraction of a moment where brightness streaks across dark clouds.

Todoroki is captivated by the magnificent demonstration of your power.

Then, with a twitch of your hand, the rain changes from round droplets into shards of ice, thin and narrow and pointed; needle-like; deadly.

The drop that had hovered by his right cheek turns into a lethal point. The tip of it pricks his skin—nearly, nearly bringing a drop of blood to the surface.

You turn your head to lock your eyes with his. Challenge sparks in your gaze, and your lips turn up in a smirk.

It’s a look of danger, of bloodshed, but Todoroki is drawn by your deadly allure.

“Care to dance, pretty boy?”

He lets a smirk spread across his own lips, a wordless acceptance of the gauntlet you’ve thrown before him.

You stare at each other for another moment.

Then Todoroki activates his quirk, throwing a wall of fire out in front of him. It melts the ice fragments and turns them into steam, clouding the arena as you take control of more water that plummets from the sky.

Your lethal dance begins once again—this time, with a more than willing partner.

–

Your skin is hot to the touch, and so is Todoroki’s, though the rain does a good job of cooling you back down. It also helps to wash the little smears of blood off your bodies, all gained from spikes of ice you threw at each other.

Though you’ve used your quirk to its limits, your muscles ache, and you’re slightly hunched over as you pant for breath, a smile settles on your face.

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?” you ask teasingly.

Todoroki is completely serious as he simply says, “No, I couldn’t.”

Your expression is soft as you look at him. You take one more deep breath before straightening up, and you stretch out your hand. Wiggling your fingers, you wait until he slips his hand into yours, and he intertwines his fingers with your own.

“C’mon, pretty boy, let’s go home.”

The skies continue to pour and the rain lashes against your skin, but you are so, so warm as you return to the dorms, hand in hand with the boy who danced with you in the rain—the boy you love.

[tellmealovestory]

What The Hell

Summary: Dialogue prompt - Put the knife down

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. This was written for @sillyqt​ 1k followers challenge. Congrats again on all the followers!

Warnings: Swear words galore, back at it with the dumbass reader, mentions of smut, implied smut, did I mention the readers a dumbass?

There were a lot of things running through your mind that made sleep impossible. 

The storm raging outside. Heavy, fat rain drops that slammed against your window, wind that howled and shook the ratty frames, the loud claps of thunder that had you jumping each time they rolled across the night sky, the lightning that lit up your small room for brief seconds of a time reminding you just how lonely it could be at night when Bucky was away on a mission.

There were always too many things that could go wrong on those extended missions that left you tossing and turning unable to catch a wink of sleep. While you understood it was his job it didn’t make dealing with the worries over him getting hurt any less easier to handle. 

Rolling onto your back you whined at the mugginess that had settled in your room. The whirring of the small fan that sat in the corner only circulated more hot air doing little to cool you off. 

Outside sirens from an ambulance wailed causing you to wince. As much as you loved this apartment the neighborhood wasn’t the greatest and each time you heard sirens when alone or the creaking of what you were convinced of was someone breaking into your apartment you broke out in hives of worries and what ifs. 

Despite Bucky’s insistence that you move to a better apartment in a safer neighborhood your reluctance to leave the space you had called home since moving to the city had always won out. But laying in bed alone tonight you were beginning to rethink that position when you were convinced you heard your apartment door creaking open.

With a racing heart, shaking breaths and sheets tangled around your feet you sat up in bed tilting your head to the side trying to decipher if the creaking of a door opening was real or if you were imagining it. 

Break-ins weren’t unheard of in the building, but so far you had been lucky enough to never experience one. 

Floorboards creaked under heavy boots.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your phone was sitting on the kitchen counter next to the half empty boxes of Chinese food you had ordered earlier which meant if someone was breaking in you couldn’t even call 9-1-1 for help. 

Bringing your knees to your chest your eyes quickly scanned your darkened room looking for anything to arm yourself with.

Another heavy step, another creaking floorboard.

You understood why Bucky wanted you to move somewhere safer now. 

Think, think, think your mind screamed. With no phone to call for help, no baseball bat to smack whoever was inside your apartment you were fucked. You were about to die. You were about to die a horrible, slow death because you were the idiot in every horror movie who couldn’t manage to keep their phone with them. You were about to die wearing nothing but a tank top and a pair of underwear. You were about to die in a dingy apartment littered with take out containers during the middle of a thunderstorm. Fuck.

Swinging your legs over your bed you winced at the groaning of your worn out mattress. Freezing you sucked in a deep breath only exhaling when your bedroom door didn’t fling open to reveal a seven foot man wearing a hockey mask and holding a giant machete. 

Fuck you really needed to stop watching horror movies if you survived this.

Opening your bedside drawer slowly you rummaged around looking for anything you could use as a weapon, but so far all your fingers had run over was a condom, a vibrator with dead batteries that you were supposed to have changed earlier in the day and something sharp that sliced your finger.

Hissing you pulled your hand out of the drawer as you brought your finger up to your face struggling to inspect it in the darkness of your room. You didn’t dare turn a light on and alert your intruder you were in here. The metallic taste of blood filtered through your nostrils and you wrinkled your nose in distaste. 

Something sharp. Fuck, you really were that idiot in the horror movie who gets killed first for being a dumb bitch. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of this sooner! If you survived this night you were going to spend the rest of the year on your knees giving Bucky Barnes the best blowjobs of his fucking life.

Carefully you dipped your hand back into the drawer. Grasping the handle of the knife he had thrown in there after a particularly kinky night of sex you sighed in relief. It may not have been a phone to call for help, but it was better than nothing. 

On shaky legs you stood up only to freeze when you saw yellow light flooding beneath your door.

Any hopes of the creaking floorboard, of the heavy boots being a product of your overactive imagination flew out the window. Your heart plummeted to your stomach, your hand grew sweaty the handle of the knife nearly slipping out of you grasp. And when the deafening sound of thunder echoed through your room you nearly pissed yourself from fear.

You were really about to die tonight. A million things flashed through your mind. Regrets, unfulfilled promises, moments you would never get to experience, places you would never get to see. Tears filled your eyes, but no matter how much you told yourself to pull it together you couldn’t. You had never imagined dying in your dingy apartment alone.

Taking a shaky step towards your bedroom door you tried to formulate a plan in your mind, but all you could think about was Bucky. The last time you had kissed him, the last time you had held his hand, the last time you had laid curled up in his arms sated after a passionate night together.

But mostly you thought about the last thing you had said to him. It hadn’t been I love you like it usually was. No be careful. No be safe. No come back to me in one piece. No. The last thing you had said to him was he had better plan on spending the next week buried between your thighs putting that long tongue to good use after he been called away on a mission in the middle of swirling his tongue over your swollen clit. 

Closing your eyes you whimpered at the memory. You had spent the day in bed going at it like rabbits. With your legs thrown over his shoulders, sweat dripping down every crevice of your body, his large hands holding your thighs open to him he had lavished your clit with the attention of a man on a mission and fuck had he ever been on a mission. 

Writhing beneath his body your knuckles had been turning white with how tight you had been gripping your bedsheets. Right on the edge of what you were convinced would have been a mind blowing orgasm his phone had gone off and though you had begged him to ignore it, fucking cried that you were so close, so goddamn close and to please, please, please just let you cum the fucker had pulled away with a kiss to your dripping center telling you he couldn’t ignore it and that he’d make it up to when he came back.

It was the last time you had seen him, last time you had talked to him and now you were about to die thinking about the goddamn orgasm you had missed out on. What the hell was wrong with you?

Reaching your bedroom door you hesitantly grasped the doorknob frowning when your sweat soaked hand slipped right off it. Sucking in a deep breath, praying to whoever would listen you twisted the doorknob, wincing as the door squeaked on its hinges. So much for trying to sneak out of here unseen.

Your body moved on its own as your feet shakily carried you out of your bedroom and into the short hallway. A quick glance into the living room appeared to show nothing missing. Swinging your gaze to the kitchen you noticed your takeout boxes had been moved from the counter. What kind of sick fucker broke into someone’s apartment and ate their food? Granted, the food was definitely not edible after having been sitting out on the hot counter for hours, but still. You really were dealing with a monster. With the kitchen, your bedroom, and the living room cleared that only left the bathroom and the spare bedroom. 

The thought of walking in on some freaky Goldilocks killer taking a bath or taking a nap had you shuddering. Tilting your head to the side you closed your eyes listening to the rain, the thunder, the wind, but you didn’t hear any running water and while it didn’t rule out them being in the bathroom you weren’t about to go and check to be positive.

Taking slow, careful steps forward you padded across the living room and to the kitchen in search of your phone. You had left it next to the takeout boxes, but much like the boxes your phone was gone now too. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Two options. 

You could stay and fight which despite Bucky trying to teach you how had been pretty much a disaster. Sure, you knew the basics, how to kick a guy in the balls, punch him the face, stab him in the eye, but that wasn’t going to do you much good if they got to you first.

The other option was running. Running out of your apartment, into the streets, anywhere but here. But your lack of clothing, the storm, the cut on your finger that had blood dripping down onto your leg was anybody going to take you seriously? And it wasn’t like you knew any of your neighbors who could help you.

Stay or go. 

Gasping at the low creaking of a door opening you crouched down on the kitchen floor holding the knife out in front of you. The apartment door was only a few feet to the right of you, but you were doubtful you could make it when footsteps echoed closer through your small apartment. The heavy steps matched the frantic beating of your heart. Sobs threatened to spill from your quivering lips. Slapping your free hand over your mouth your only hope was that whoever was in your apartment creeping closer couldn’t hear your muffled sobs. 

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and in a split second decision of stupidity or bravery you jumped up. Scrambling across the kitchen floor in your bare feet you came face to face with your intruder. 

Raising the knife your hand shook, your breath came out in heavy pants, your eyes were wide, your heart thundered and when lightning lit up your kitchen you let out a blood curdling scream as you lifted the knife and sliced through the air in a blind attempt to strike your attacker.

Like a scene straight out of a bad eighties horror movie where once again you were playing the dumb victim doomed to die your aim was off. Embarrassingly so, yet that didn’t stop you from trying again as you took a step forward slashing through the air screaming. If you couldn’t stab him maybe your screams would scare him off or at the very least alert your useless neighbors that you needed assistant.

“Y/N!”

He knew your name. Oh god. The killer in your apartment knew your name. 

Screaming at the top of your lungs you clutched the knife. Turning on your heels to run you yelped when a thick hand wrapped around your wrist holding you to the spot.

“Y/N!”

Blindly kicking at his shins, thrashing in his arms, you screamed, wildly waving the knife around in the air.

“Put the knife down!”

Out of breath with tears running down your face and scared shitless you watched helplessly as he grabbed the knife tossing it across the kitchen with such ease it was enough for you to stop your thrashing and your screaming.

As your eyes began to focus and a flash of lightning lit up your kitchen and the intruders face your jaw dropped in shock. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” You yelled. 

Slamming your free hand against his chest repeatedly the adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins only moments before dissipated to surprise followed by anger.

"Shh it’s just me you gotta calm down, Y/N I didn’t mean to scare you, but you gotta calm down."

Ignoring his words you tried to yank your wrist free from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold. It was probably a good thing because you were about two seconds away from passing out. “You broke into my apartment!”

“I live here.”

Huffing you had no rebuttal to that, but that didn’t stop you from blurting out the first thing that came to mind no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Why were you stomping around like some serial killer? Huh Mr. I live here too and think it’s cool to give my girlfriend a heart attack!”

“I wasn’t stomping around,” he snapped, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you doin’ waving my knife around like a maniac? You could've hurt yourself!”

“You left it in my bedside drawer! I didn’t have a choice I thought you were a murderer and my only options of defense was this or a dead vibrator!”

Breathing heavily you glared at him in the darkness amazed at the fact that no one had bothered to check on you after the screaming match that had occurred. Then again it wasn’t like your neighbors knew you. 

"What are you doing here? The mission a-and you always get me up when you come hone why didn’t you wake me?"

Loosening his grip on your wrist he pulled you close his hand going to the back of your head as he quietly shushed you. It was unusual for him to be taking care of you after a mission usually it was the other way around with you bandaging him up, asking him if he was okay, giving him space whatever the mood called for depending on how bad the mission had gone.

Though you were wrapped in his arms in what should have made you feel safe and secure your body shook like a leaf, ugly sobs wracking your frame over the what ifs that could have happened. Snot and tears stained his shirt by the time you finally pulled away.

"I could have hurt you, Bucky! What if i had stabbed you? You could have died!"

Lightning illuminated the room again lighting his face up and though it may have been your eyes playing a cruel trick on you you swore you saw a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Doll, the way you were waving that knife around the only person you were gonna hurt was you."

Yanking free from his grasp you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"I’m glad you find this funny James!" You hissed, anger and fear lacing your words. 

Storming into the bathroom you flipped the light on flinching at not only the brightness but the reflection in the mirror. Wide, crazy eyes stared back at you. Your hair was a matted mess with sweat, your face burning hot with tears and snot drying on your nose. You looked like shit, but found it difficult to care about that when you almost fucking died tonight. The strap of your tank top slid down your arm as you forcefully turned the hot water on. Reaching for a washcloth you ran it under the water ignoring the stare of Bucky as he stood in the doorframe.

"I’m sorry," he started, stepping into the small room before taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub. Yanking his shirt over his head he tossed it in the hamper staring at your reflection in the mirror. "I knew it was late and it was selfish, but I needed to see you I figured you’d be sleepin’ so I was gonna crash in the spare room till morning. I really didn’t mean to scare you, doll.”

"Yeah, well you did," you mumbled like a petulant child. Turning to face him you frowned inspecting the various cuts and bruises that littered his face and chest. Gently lifting the washcloth to his face you wiped away the dried flecks of blood that dotted the corner of his mouth. Had you been in a better mood you would have made a joke about him being a vampire. 

"I’m sorry", he tried again. Resting his large hands on your hips he pulled you closer so you were standing in between his thick thighs as he laid his head on your stomach. 

Carding your fingers through his hair you closed your eyes. Your heart was still thundering beneath your chest and you were still convinced you were two seconds away from passing out, but as you stood between his legs listening to the rain and the wind pound against the windows for the first tine tonight you breathed an easy sigh.

"You don’t know how scared i was," you mumbled, choking on a sob. "And you know the worst part? I couldn’t stop thinking about how i didn’t even say i love you before you left. I could have died tonight and my last words weren’t even I love you." Choking on a strangled cry you collapsed against his bruised and battered chest the events of the past hour taking their toll on you as your knees gave out.

Holding tight to you he ran his hands down your back, against the back of your head all the while cooing that he had you and you were safe and he would never let any harm come to you no matter what.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that sobbing and eternally grateful in his arms that you were okay, that he was safe, that you were both going to be okay.

Kissing the top of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was sweet and loving, the kind of kiss that was meant as an apology for a myriad of mistakes made by the both of you, the kind of kiss that sent your heart fluttering, your knees to shake, your stomach to fill with butterflies, the kind of kiss that if it could talk would whisper nothing but I love you, I love you, I love you.

But it wasn’t enough for you. Sliding your hands to his chest you gripped his hair yanking his head back as you kissed him hungrily. It was a desperate kiss, a sloppy kiss, a needy kiss, but he got the hint, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he roughly shoved his tongue into your mouth. Groaning he tore his lips away from yours only to kiss his way down your neck. "Never meant to scare you," he mumbled. "But maybe we should start those self defense classes back up."

Nodding your head at his kisses, at his apologies you never wanted him to stop, but his words had you frowning. 

"I had it under control."

But you didn’t. Had he been an actual killer like you had originally thought you would have been dead in a minute.

Chuckling he stroked your hip. "I love you, but you didn’t have anything under control." 

"Yeah, well," you sputtered. "Had you woken me up none of this would have happened!"

"I know," he sighed, regret tinging his words.

Staring down at his cloudy blue eyes, his tanned chest full of well defined muscles, those glorious thighs you quirked your lips up. "You could always make it up to me," you started, your voice sultry as your fingers stroked the back of his neck.

Catching on quickly he quirked his eyebrow up. 

"You did promise to spend the next week between my thighs... what do you say we make it two weeks and I’ll think about forgiving you?"

"You'll think about it? Honey, you'll forgive me after the first orgasm," he promised.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Squealing as he stood up and dragged you to your room you quickly forgot about the horror, the worries, the anxiety you had been through as a different kind of adrenaline filled your veins when he pushed you down onto your bed ready to make you scream for an entirely different set of reasons. 

[bangtanlalaland]

getaway car | kth (m.)

synopsis ⇣ you and your boyfriend are on the run, having robbed your town’s local bank. the both of you spend what you feel may be your last moments together.

— established relationship!au

⇢pairing: kim taehyung x female reader

⇢genre: angst, fluff, pwp, smut

⇢word count: 2.9k

⇢contents ⨯ warnings: sub!taehyung, dom!reader, car sex (unprotected but plz stay safe!), some swearing, some insults lolol (it’s all out of love), masturbation, squirting, voyeurism (oop), oral sex (f receiving), soft love making in this (oof), mentions of a crime (robbing a bank specifically)

a/n: somewhat inspired by the movie “queen and slim” (the sex scene was beautiful omf) also this is unedited because i’m a lazy hoe ok sorryyyy

song rec: “getaway car” by audioslave

The revving sound of the car’s engine rumbles, as you and Taehyung cruise through the California desert—having been driving for hours. The scorching sun and dry atmosphere grants a sheen of perspiration, your clothes now glued to your skin. It’s hot and so are you. You ogle at the view of Taehyung on your left, in the driver’s seat with his arm bent and leaning out the window—one hand gripping the steering wheel and his curly, blonde strands flowing through the breeze. You quickly realize how much you miss his usual dark-chocolate hair, but you know this was all part of the plan.

He borrowed his father’s old Ford Mustang from like the 70’s and unfortunately there is no air conditioner—to which you now regret the decision to go on the run with said vehicle. You deliberately fan yourself with the sundress in which you’re attired, but the act didn’t help much, just breezing more warm air onto your being.

“Fuck,” you let out with a sigh of frustration. Taehyung knows that you tend to have an attitude when you’re: 1) hungry; 2) on your period; or 3) just too damn hot.

He notes your aggravated expression. “What’s up, babe?”

You roll your eyes in reply, “It literally feels like the devil’s ass right now. Is there any place we could stop by for some air?” You quickly add, “Conditioning!”

He chuckles at your annoyed figure, and you hate when he teases you. You instantly scoff, “It’s not funny, okay! You know how I get when I’m too hot.”

With a coy smirk, he adds, “But, you already are.” He peers at you for a quick moment to wiggle his eyebrows before glaring back to the road ahead.

“Seriously, Taehyung. Fuck you!”

He shakes his head, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he attempts to bite back that boxy grin of his. “I really wouldn’t mind.”

You roll your eyes so hard that you’re surprised you don’t have a headache by now.

“Relax, babe. Besides, we have another 40 miles out until the nearest anything.” Your jaw drops at his comment, and you let out a choked laugh. You feel like screaming.

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?” You probe, twisting your body to face him directly. He shrugs, “Clearly, you don’t know how to read.”

Your eyes naturally narrow in on the asshole, and you playfully jab his arm.

“But seriously, we’ll stop soon,” is all he says. You give a pout towards his comment—your lips poking out in a childish way, followed by crossing your arms.

“No fair,” You whine. “We are going to have to stop anyway a lot sooner than you think. Look at the damn gas!”

Taehyung notes the gas marker sits just above “E.” He verbally swears, “Ah, fuck!”

You shake your head at his silly self, “And you say I can’t read,” you add with a devious smirk and a quirked brow. He seethes, squinting his eyes at you and sucking his teeth.

“Suck my dick.”

You burst out in a laughter that has his insides fluttering. You can’t help how hilarious it is whenever you catch Taehyung slipping. You gasp for air, still laughing your heart out, and he couldn’t help himself from shining that familiar boxy grin you grew to love.

“Ah! It’s not even that funny.” He spills, every so often glancing at your heaving figure in the passenger seat. You slap your thigh and cover your face, attempting to shake away the giggles—your cheeks now hurting from laughing dramatically.

You retort, “You should have seen your face!” Taehyung snarks at you, his hair blowing through the breeze and golden skin glowing gorgeously; and you honestly have never seen anything more breathtaking. He notes your expression and lands his eyes back on the road.

“What are you lookin’ at?” A small smile paints across your face whilst you slip, “The hottest man on the planet.” His gaze snaps toward you in a quick fashion, and he doesn’t miss the way you examine him as if he’s a species you’d just discovered. With the added heat, your hormones are on overdrive; you shamelessly trail your hand onto his thigh, inching toward his groin area.

“W-whoa, baby what are you-” He’s cut off by your palm resting on top of his soft cock, gently grazing against the material—adding a soft amount of pressure. He grips the steering wheel tighter, just in case. You watch his facial expressions tentatively, pressing your hand down just a tad more; you love how the hiss spills from between his teeth, a soft groan shortly follows after.

“Mmm, do you like that? Like when I touch you here?” You coo, rubbing your fingers in a circular motion; your pussy throbs at the way his cock suddenly twitches from behind his slacks. He whines, wanting so desperately to rut against your hand, but he can’t. His foot remains on the gas pedal, and he doesn’t want to swerve off the road and/or risk getting into an accident. He sits there, taking whatever you give him. His eyes are glued to the steaming asphalt ahead, not breaking his stare; which slightly irritates you, granting a harsh squeeze within your grip.

Taehyung’s foot presses down on the pedal too harshly, by accident, and he instantly chokes out, “Yes, b-baby! I love it- When you touch me, Mmmm.” Your lips quirk up and you immediately snatch your hand away—gaining a small whine paired with a pout. Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow as he looks to you for a brief second, and he almost runs off the road.

“____,” he warns with that deep voice of his. You have your hands groping your breasts, as wanton moans spill from you. You close your eyes and throw your head back, in hopes that he’d watch you some more; maybe doing so would convince him to pull over already. And he does, continuing to catch glances of you while struggling to drive, yet each time he steals a gaze, you progress more and more. With your legs now spread out and lace panties on display, you rub your fingers across your clothed core, the soft material soaking itself in your wet.

“Want you to touch me, Tae Tae.” You whisper softly, but loud enough for him to hear. He swallows a thick gulp while peering at your hidden goods for a split second. You moan just a little too loud, wanting his attention on you again. He curses under his breath, his forehead glistens with sweat.

“Want to bury my pussy in your face,” You pull the thin material to the side, showcasing your lady lips. Taehyung witnesses the action and his cock jumps, an aching boner gradually approaching; you hear a growl escape from his lips—which prompts you to egg him on even more.

“Fuck, babe.”

“Touch me, Tae. Touch me now,” you demand, using a finger to glide along your folds, spreading your wetness. He takes another glance at you and back to the road, letting his right hand free to make its path toward you. His lengthy fingers reach out a little further, and graze upon your core—causing a low gasp from you.

You moan, “More.”

His left hand remains on the steering wheel, while his right continues to coat his fingers in your arousal—the slick, wet feeling causes his cock to harden to its full potential. You naturally buck your hips to follow his motions, and you gain another moan from him. He unintentionally grazes upon your clit, and your thighs jerk in response. He pulls his fingers from you and pops them in his mouth, tasting your essence.

He hums in reply and blurts out, “Fuck! That’s it. I’m pulling over.”

The sudden jolt of the car causes you to slide across the seat, bumping into Taehyung slightly. He abruptly parks the car on the side of the road, right onto the dry land of the desert. The door on the driver’s side shuts rigidly; Taehyung marches around the car and flings your door wide open.

“On your knees.” You command; and being the gentleman he is, he kneels down. You lift your bottom from the seat to remove your panties, throwing them somewhere out of reach; your legs spread open on their own accord, and Taehyung forcefully drags you closer to the edge of the seat—his arms wrapped under your knees. His intriguing, hooded lids fixed on your heat, his knees slightly burn from the scorching plains of the desert.

Your fingers run through his strands, lightly caressing his scalp. “Such a good boy. Now eat me.”

You push his head further down and the tip of his nose nuzzles your clit, his lips covering themselves in your wet—his tongue graces itself upon your inner lips, gliding along the juicy flesh. Your head falls back, while your grip on his hair tightens, forcing him to devour you whole whilst your hips grind against his face. Low hums and groans spill from your man, as he takes all of you into his steamy mouth.

“S-so fucking good,” You moan, Taehyung’s finger nails dig into your thighs, his tongue lays itself flat—the wet muscle skids up and down your labia, smothering you in his saliva. He purposely stops right before reaching your clit, repeating the action over and over again. A drawn out moan falls from you, and you tug his strands a tad too much, causing him to whimper under your hold.

You rut yourself against his tongue and state, “Bad boy! No teasing.” He pulls away and takes a quick look at your pussy that shimmers with his spit, then he peers up at you—staring straight into your eyes and watching as your chest rises and falls with each labored breath. He opens his mouth just enough to cover your clit, teasing you yet again and you grow impatient—needing to feel his lips on your throbbing clitoris. He inches closer and closer; you desperately push his head further and finally his soft, pink, plush lips encase around your needy nub. Lewd sucking noises follows soon after, and you treasure the view of Taehyung devouring your clit, vigorously jostling his head back and forth. Your grip on his curls falters, and you find yourself falling flat on your back, finding purchase on top of your thighs, nails grazing across the skin.

“Oh, ungh! T-tae” You lose your breath for a moment, keening in on the noises he makes with his juicy tongue and soaked lips, that you nearly miss the sound of a car passing by. Your moans now turned into cries, your kitty clenches and just as you thought this was enough, you feel Tae’s fingers rubbing along your folds, smothering them in your wetness. He inserts one of those long fingers and buries himself to the knuckle, whilst lapping at your clit. He pumps vigorously, and you find yourself squirming underneath him.

“Mmmm,” is all you hear him say as he doesn’t let up on eating you out.

“Fuck yes, just like that.” You add, swaying your hips to meet his finger thrusts. He sneaks in a second finger, and your walls welcome them in completely. You grip the leather seat of the car, and wriggle within his hold. He brushes up against that spot deep within you, fucking you with his fingers. Taehyung’s member knocks against his slacks, as if calling out to your kitty. You’re so wet that you coat his fingers nicely—like a lubricant.

“Yes, yes you’re going- t-to make me cum!” You cry out, he jabs into you at a quicker pace, creating squelches that’s like music to his hears. He lodges a wad of spit onto your cunt, then flits his tongue out to prescisely stimualte your clit yet again. He creates a “come here” motion with his fingers, ramming into that same sweet spot repeatedly. A strained cry escapes from you, and everything is blazing.

“Mmm, fuck!” Your legs quiver out of control, and you feel something build up only to be bought down as your pussy shivers, spurts of liquid project onto the car seat and Taehyung’s fingers, some reaching his blouse and his chin. Your body grows limp—having been drowned out by your orgasm, but he doesn’t let his tongue up. He pulls and tugs your lips, licking along your entire mound—touching your now sensitive clit in the process.

You lie there watching him and push his head away to keep him from touching you anymore, “Drink up, baby boy.”

“Yes ma’am.” You love how he complies, slurping the juices that stream down the seat. You beam at his obedience, and there’s this fluttering-like feeling within you that approaches—something like butterflies in your stomach. Taehyung watches you with those big, asymmetrical eyes. You scoot back to let him in on the passenger’s seat, and he seats himself, slightly soaking his slacks from your juices. But he doesn’t break his stare from you, and you feel scorching under his gaze. You pull the hem of your sundress and over your head, dropping the material somewhere behind you. Taehyung unbuttons his silky blouse just a few buttons, putting those sexy collarbones on display. His lips part at the sight of your black, lace bra.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He reassures, rubbing your thigh and easing his grip onto your waist, pulling you on top of him. You straddle him in the cramped space, grinding your pussy along his clothed cock, a tender yet odd sensation of the fabric of his slacks as it grazing amongst your core. Taehyung catches your lips in a heated kiss, small moans muffled and whimpers caught in between breaths. A soft cry spills from you, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. He notes how you’ve shut your mouth closed, and a frown graces upon your expression.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asks, brushing his fingers across your cheeks to caress them softly.

You can’t ignore the anxiety that fills you from the thought of being caught. What will happen to the both of you? Surely you’ll pay for your time, but then that would mean you and Taehyung would be separated, and who knows for how long?

You shake your head at the thought of it all, “I-I’m so scared. What if we-” You can’t finish your sentence, cut off by your sobs.

There’s a pang in Taehyung’s chest at your words, and he cups your cheeks to fix your gaze onto him.

“Look at me,” He says with a hint of certainty laced in his sentence. Your eyes pry open, soaked with tears.

“Look, I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Okay?” He expresses, pressing soft pecks to your lips. Your fingers lace within his hair while you continue where you left off before, grinding yourself against him. The warmth of his body consumes you, that the summers heat is long forgotten.

You moan in between kisses, “Please, Tae.” You pull away and stare into his eyes for a moment, finding placement on the button of his pants, unzipping the zipper. He lifts himself up to tug his slacks and briefs down to his ankles in one go.

His hard cock bolts upwards, the rosy-tinted tip shimmers with precum—that oozes from the slit.

“Need you,” you whine, wrapping your fingers around him—eager to pump his shaft. Taehyung grips your waist, his Adam’s apple bobs in the moment of his moaning—as the tip of his cock brushes against your pussy lips. He bucks his hip upwards, pushing himself past your entrance, and you engulf his thick length inside of you that stretches you out like no other.

Broken moans fill up the atmosphere.

“Fuck,” he slips. You gush at the melody of his moans filling up your ears; his large hands press against your back, as he darts his tongue out to lap at your breast, sucking your nipple and caressing the other. He starts with a sluggish pace, jamming up into you, but you want more—crave more.

“Harder.” You order, slamming back down to meet his thrusts. He rams up into you, making you jolt upwards, almost hitting the roof of the car. You note another car that passes by. He places kisses along your jawline, leaving a trail down to your neck and collarbone.

Your fingers pull on his strands a little harder, both of your bodies drenched in sweat. Taehyung forces himself to hit your spot repeatedly.

“I love you,” He lets out followed by another moan, “Love you so much, you know that?” You both pant for air, too lost in the feel of each other and too caught up in the moment; you ease your fingers down to find your clit and rub furiously.

Taehyung grazes his nails along your ass cheeks, while still fucking up into you. He lands a harsh smack, gaining a yelp from you.

He takes a break to let you gain control, and you deliberately ride his cock, the sounds of your thighs smacking against his makes him shudder underneath you.

“I-I’m going to cum, babe. Fuck!” You clench around him intentionally, wanting to make him cum inside of you. Just as he spilled those words, you fall like apart on top of him. He gives a few last harsh strokes, to help ride out your orgasm, whilst also gaining one of his own.

“Oh, Taehyung!” Your fingernails graze along his scalp, with trembling thighs and a pulsing cunt, you gasp for air—immersed in your orgasm. Taehyung slips a drawn-out moan, as spurts of warm cum project deep inside of you. Your grasp from his hair loosens up, and you pull away to lost yourself in those hooded lids that made you fall in love.

“I love you, too. So much.” You say passion, wrapping your arms around his neck—never wanting to let go, feeling protected in his embrace.

[seokoloqy]

Play Pretend | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, angst, soccer player!jk, fake dating!au, f2l

➳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, minor violence, not rlly fingering but fingering ig, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

➳ SUMMARY: walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

➳ A/N: it’s been a long time coming but she’s finally done!! Everyone say thank you to Jane (@perfectlylmperfekt) for kicking my ass every day and making sure I was writing

—

As rain batters against the windows, your cat saunters up to your lounging figure. He rubs against your blanket-covered legs, begging for attention and belly rubs. You set aside the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to run your cold hands across his back, enjoying his satisfied purrs as you coo, “are you bored too, Pitch?”

The cat you brought home from the shelter has become your best friend. He’s always there for you whenever Jungkook isn’t around and you’re grateful for his companionship. No matter how many times Jungkook begs you to get rid of him because of his superstitions, you refuse. Pitch is family now and there’s no way you’re giving him away because Jungkook thinks he’s bad luck.

The reruns of your favorite television show have been on since you got back from class and all you’ve done is lay around eating junk food. You’d be hanging out with your roommate, Jungkook if he weren’t already at his girlfriend’s house for the night. For now, it’s just you, Pitch, and one too many Oreos.

You hear the sound of your front door unlocking and a disgruntled sigh. The door slams shut and Pitch jumps off your lap, bolting across the floor and slinking back into your bedroom.

“Back already?” You call out to your roommate, who made an unexpected return. Jungkook told you he’d be back tomorrow, you were expecting the apartment all to yourself.

He doesn’t respond, the sound of his squelching footsteps across the wooden floor make your head turn. You’re surprised to be greeted with his shaggy, dripping hair and soaked clothes, grey sweater clinging to his skin as he stares dejectedly off into space.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught Sooyoung cheating on me and we lost the match,” he mumbles.

Jungkook sighs, flinging his duffle bag to the ground as he drags his feet over to you. Falling back onto the couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, he looks up at you hovering over his face, distraught by his confession.

“You okay?” You ask, trying to sound supportive.

He gives you an incredulous look, “I lost the match and my girlfriend cheated on me! I’m not okay at all!”

You raise your hands in surrender, “It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s just one match and it’s her loss.”

“But she was my good luck charm,” he pouts, turning on his side to face the television.

Ever since they started dating, he’s won every game and somehow he’s convinced it’s her that helped him win. Though you only believe it’s just luck that he happens to win every time she’s there. She’s like a lucky pair of socks he needs for every game.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into the cushions and huffing, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a good player all on your own. Standing on the sidelines waving around some poster doesn’t correlate to you winning every time. You’ll do great with or without her.”

“No,” he stubbornly says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need her.”

“How ‘bout I go with you for your next game?” you suggest, reaching over to grab your melting tub of ice cream. “I bet you’ll still win even without your lucky charm.”

“But you hate watching my soccer matches.”

“It’s just one game. How bad can it be?” You shrug, dangling the tub of ice cream over his face. “Now, eat this, it’ll make you feel better.”

—

“Where’s the cereal?”

“Huh?” you hum, snapping out of your reverie. He’s already wearing his purple jersey, lacing up his cleats, and waving around a box of cereal. Usually, you aren’t awake when he leaves for games, busy catching precious hours of sleep instead of waving him off.

However, your attention is focused on the tendrils of black ink crawling up his thigh beneath his shorts. You’re not very familiar with the tattoo, having only seen it once when he first got it. He had flashed his thigh to you unexpectedly with the flower patterns swirling up his leg and disappearing past the black fabric of his ridden up shorts. You’d turned away, refusing to look at his exposed leg, afraid of where the ink ended. Maybe it stops right above the hip bone, nearing mouthwatering territory. You regret not stopping to admire it now, dreamily eyeing the marks peeking from underneath the black nylon material.

“The cereal—there’s no more.” He shakes the empty carton, bringing your attention to him and raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat it all last night while I was gone?”

You scoff, lifting your hand to your chest and feign offense, “No, I would never eat your bland and healthy cereal.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a black creature creeping towards the countertop, jumping up and edging towards you. “Oh, Pitch!” you squeal, running your hand over his fur.

“Argh! Get that cat away from here. That thing is bad luck.” Jungkook backs up from the countertop, pressing himself against the stove, nails digging into his palms.

“In some cultures, black cats are considered good luck,” you state, playing with Pitch’s clawing pink paws. “Your fear of him is irrational. Besides, how can you be afraid of him? He’s so cute,” you coo, tickling his stomach.

“I’m not afraid of your cat. I’d just prefer if it weren’t around me before games.”

“Him, not it,” you correct, watching as Jungkook slowly edges around the stove and moves to the fridge.

“Whatever, just keep it away,” he dismisses, turning his back towards you to open the fridge and rifle through its contents of healthy options.

He seems fine, considering what happened yesterday. Still superstitious as always. But you’re wondering how he’s really feeling, hoping he’s not bottling up his emotions until he’s ready to burst.

“So,” you ponder, “have you called Sooyoung yet?”

He shuts the door, leaning his forehead against the cold metal with a dejected sigh, “I mean, we’ve been together for years. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

You nod slowly, muttering, “I guess, but she cheated on you.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth, turning around with a red Gatorade in hand, twisting the lid open and taking a long swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, turning your attention to Pitch instead returning his intense gaze lingering on you.

He cocks his head towards the door, “Let’s go.”

You slide off your seat at the island and head towards the door, regretting bringing up his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. He follows closely behind, unconsciously pressing a gentle hand on your lower back and dragging along his grey duffle bag.

—

The hanging overcast sky brings a cold wind around the field, ripping umbrellas out of hands and blowing away lawn chairs not secured to the ground. As you step foot on the sinking, damp grass, you cringe seeing the underside of your semi-new white shoes become muddy and stained.

Jungkook strides onto the field with no problem, used to the conditions after heavy rain and loving the exhilarating feeling of playing on a damp field.

“It’s freezing out here,” you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to conserve body heat. If you had known it was going to be this cold with the wind whipping about, you would have worn more than a sweater and maybe you would have brought your own chair seeing as the metal benches are still wet from the earlier rain.

Jungkook drops his duffle bag on the bench, shrugging off his thick jacket. “Here, take mine. I don’t need it anyway,” he offers, holding it open to allow you to slip your arms through the sleeves. As he helps you push your arms through the sleeves, his lingering warmth shields you from the cold and he brings his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You twist to loosen his unrelenting grip on you. “Get off.”

“Not yet, wait till she sees,” he hums patiently, running his nose along the shell of your ear.

“W-What?” You stutter, squirming away from his heated breath puffing across your neck. You scan the crowd of people, spying the crowd for said ‘she.’ As you watch the bleachers a face appears in the stands, gazing down at your awkward position in one another's arms. Sooyoung’s beaming smile fades as she watches Jungkook press a kiss to your cheek and pulls you to his side, casually resting his arm over your shoulder.

While he pretends not to acknowledge her, she gets the message, timidly lowering the hand she almost waved. You can understand why Jungkook wouldn’t want to speak to her, after all, she did cheat on him. But what is he trying to accomplish by holding you so close?

“She’s jealous,” he smirks, “She’ll want me back soon enough.”

You gawk, no longer flattered by his intimate touches.

“Hey, pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s make Sooyoung jealous.”

“How is that a good idea? She cheated on you and you still care about what she thinks?”

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be like revenge.”

“Getting revenge never solves anything. If anything it makes everything worse.” You say, watching Sooyoung continuously glance at the two of you from her seat alone.

“Please? It’s just holding hands and stuff that’s it.”

Holding hands and stuff? Denying that you had a crush on your roommate/friend would be useless. Of course, you like him but pretending to be his girlfriend to get back at his ex? You guess it wouldn’t hurt to help your best friend.

“Fine.”

Jungkook grins, “this is going to be great. Stay here okay and watch me win this then.”

He places a seemingly quick and meaningless kiss on your lips, making sure everyone on the field and off has a chance to see, before dashing off to join his teammates at center field without another thought or explanation. You slowly lower yourself onto the soaked bench, faintly feeling the water seeping into your jeans, but you’re too distracted by the lingering taste of his lips. Your thoughts are a blur of chaos, still reeling from him calling you his new girlfriend and the unexpected kiss—a kiss you can’t wrap your head around.

Are you supposed to feel anything other than butterflies fluttering in your stomach? Why would he kiss you? He just wants to do it for show.

The referee blows on his whistle, starting the match and your gaze follows Jungkook. His determination and focus follow the ball and nothing else like the world falls away.

The ball is passed around and the crowd cheers, but all you can focus on is Jungkook. He runs after the ball, legs pumping across the field. The dark patterns of his orchid tattoo show beneath his shorts with every stride he makes.

Drops of rain begin to speckle your cheeks, you pull up the hood of Jungkook’s jacket. The rain begins to pour, hitting the field and bouncing off the surface. As rain drenches players and audience members alike, the game continues without a pause. Through the haze of water, you can see Jungkook still running despite rain falling in his eyes and his dark bangs sticking to his forehead. The purple jersey clings to the toned muscle beneath, giving you a view of his abs.

Oh man, you’re in trouble.

—

“Hey, wanna watch a-”

You make a beeline towards your bedroom, not wanting to spend another awkward second with him. The door slams behind you just as you hear him call out your name, wondering why you’re avoiding him.

You throw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows and screaming to release your frustrations. It’s mostly confusion though, you don’t understand anything.

In the hallway, you hear his footsteps walking past your door and you’re afraid he’ll swing your door open and demand you tell him what’s wrong, but the shower turns on instead. You breathe a sigh of relief, rolling over on your bed.

“You don’t just kiss a friend,” you mutter under your breath, talking to no one in particular until you hear a soft ‘meow.’ You’re reminded that Pitch hasn’t eaten yet and you haven’t refilled his bowl. If you get out now, you’ll be able to sneak back before Jungkook gets out of the shower. Peeling yourself off the bed, you peek your head out into the hall. The bathroom door across from you is shut with the melodious sounds of Jungkook’s humming beneath the trickling of water.

Pitch slips out of the room, dashing into the hall and you follow after him. In the kitchen, you grab a can of his favorite chicken flavor food from the cabinet to pour into his metallic bowl. He purrs with delight, picking up his meal.

You leave him to eat in peace, sneaking back to the hall where water has stopped running, but the door is still closed with the fan whirring inside. As you tiptoe towards your door, Jungkook emerges from the steam filled room wrapped in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his skin. It’s not like you haven’t seen anything before. His love for as minimal clothing as possible hasn’t phased you until now.

“Hey,” he greets casually as if nothing has changed. Maybe he doesn’t feel the tension slowly rising between you two, but you’re certainly feeling the repercussions of his kiss. You dodge around him to get to your room, muttering about a paper that’s due soon. Once you’re safely hidden in your room, you breathe a sigh of relief. You know you can’t avoid him forever. It’s childish to just ignore him and not address your problems.

A knock comes from behind your back, Jungkook calls through the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

The door swings open and you stumble away from the door as he pushes his way into your room. His head pops through the crack, peering at you with his brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” he questions innocently, opening the door wider so he can step in.

“No,” you squeak, holding your breath as you notice his towel dip lower around his waist.

“Then what’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Now, get out of my room and put a shirt on please.”

He glances down, slyly returning his gaze back up to you with a smirk gracing his lips. “Oh,” he cocks his brow, “are you blushing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Y/N.”

You move to push against his toned chest, forcing him out of your room. “Get out, I mean it, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, walking backward. “I’m leaving, but if you ever want a taste—”

You screech, slapping his shoulder, “Get out!”

His laugh echoes down the hall as he walks back to his room.

—

“You’re coming to my game next week right?” Jungkook asks over a bowl of soggy cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“No?” You stop petting Pitch focusing on Jungkook.

“What?” His spoon clatters against his bowl as he gives you a dubious look. “But you’re my good luck charm now. We won the last game with you. I need you!”

“I keep telling you—”

“It’s the championships! We can’t lose this.”

You cross your arms with a heavy sigh, ignoring the pleading look he gives you. When will he start to realize he doesn’t need anyone to win?

As you begin to argue with his logic, he interrupts, “I’ll clean out Pitch’s litter box for a month!”

You can’t argue with that. You’d rather sit on a cold bench for an hour or two than clean out the litter box.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“After the championships, I’ll take you out to dinner. There’s this new fancy restaurant-”

“Like… like a date?” You blurt suddenly, interrupting him. You pull Pitch into your arms like he’s your comfort animal, holding him to your chest as you nervously look at Jungkook.

He furrows his brows as if the answer is obvious. He shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and speaking slowly, “Yeah, I guess… me and Sooyoung were gonna go together, but you know…” A dark look rolls over his expression as he says Sooyoung’s name, recalling her betrayal.

“Oh,” you say, hoping to not sound too disappointed.

“I already made the reservations and there’s no point in letting it go to waste.”  

“Okay, sure.” You hoped he would be interested enough actually take you out because he wants to, not because he has no one else to go with. You don’t know why you feel so rejected.

As you run your fingers through Pitch’s dark fur and watch Jungkook finish off his bowl of cereal, you wonder why he doesn’t seem to care about the other day. He hasn’t mentioned the kiss.

“So, you’re headed off to practice today?”

His purple uniform is laid out on the counter, washed of all the dirt and sweat from the rigorous day before.

“Yeah, wanna come? We can go eat after afterward,” he suggests, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “I mean, we haven’t hung out for a while.”

He’s right. The last time you both spent a good amount of time together was before he started dating Sooyoung. So you easily agree to his offer, happy to spend more time with him.

—

“You’re late. Laps.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Jungkook drops his bag to the ground, groaning as his coach gives the order and he’s forced to begin jogging around the rectangular white painted field. The rest of his teammates are in the middle of the field doing their usual drills with one another. You linger on the sidelines next to the water cooler like the towel boy dishing out water to every exhausted player that comes by. You don’t mind it though, it’s better than sitting on the bench doing nothing but idle on your phone alone. You like making small talk with his teammates every time they come for a drink.

Jimin seems especially thirsty today, however, taking every opportunity between activities to jog over with a clandestine smile.

“Again?” you laugh, moving to grab a paper cup to fill up for the sixth time.

“Hey,” he whines, gently prying it from your fingers. “You don’t have to pour it for me. I’m not a kid.”

“But there’s nothing else to do! I’ve just been sitting here watching you guys practice like some soccer mom.”

“Soccer moms are hot,” he comments with a simple shrug of his shoulder and a sly smile creeping onto his face.

“Ha-ha,” you mockingly laugh, rolling your eyes.

As Jimin moves to fill his cup beside you, you look over at Jungkook, surprised that he's already looking at you, more specifically at Jimin with an unamused expression. A deep scowl forming across his features. When he starts jogging over you avert your gaze to Jimin chugging down the water he had just filled.

“You’re spending more time with my girl than practicing,” Jungkook snidely comments, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder to roughly pull him to his side with a fake plastered smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Jimin throws his hands up in surrender sarcastically. “I didn’t know you already got over your ex and started dating Y/N overnight. It takes getting used to.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, pushing a laughing Jimin off him. “You just like getting on my nerves.”

Jimin straightens his uniform, giggling, “Yeah, you’re right, but I also happen to actually like Y/N. I’m just trying to keep her company while you’re ignoring her for practice.”

Just as Jungkook begins to threaten Jimin, their coach blows a whistle, calling them both back over to the field, threatening them with more laps.

As they both jog back, giving playful shoves, you sigh becoming bored again.  

After they’re released from practicing the whole team runs to the water cooler to relax, sighing in relief after grueling drills. Most of them ignore you for their cups of water, but Jungkook and Jimin seem to fight for your attention.

“Are you coming to my house to hang out? The rest of the team is coming.” Jimin asks you and not Jungkook, purposely ignoring him. “It’ll be fun to hang out again.”

He reminds you of the days before Jungkook’s girlfriend when you all would hang out whether it was at Jimin’s apartment or over dinner.

“Sure,” you agree, happy to bond with the boys again.

“You said you were hanging out with me today though,” Jungkook interjects, refusing to let Jimin steal you away from him for the day.

You don’t want to disappoint either of them, deciding on a compromise, “Well we can hang out together at Jimin’s house, right?”

“Great meet you guys there.” Jimin waves as he scoops up his duffle bag and heads towards the car with Hoseok and Seokjin.

—

Jungkook has been glowering for a while now, watching Jimin laugh heartily with his arm wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice the tension rolling off Jungkook in waves, awkwardly glancing over at him occasionally but not caring enough to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, “Come open this jar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, muscle boy, or I’ll have to break it open.”

“Fine,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the recliner into the kitchen to join Yoongi and Seokjin.

Taehyung sneaks up behind you on the couch, resting his head on his folded hands against the back. “So,” he ponders, “What’s it like being the rebound?”

You’re not sure who gives Taehyung the harsh smack to the head, but he whines and pushes himself up wondering what he did wrong.

He’s right. You are the rebound—fake rebound. It’s bad enough being a rebound but it hurts, even more, knowing that he doesn’t have the same feelings you do because he’s so caught up in trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“That’s not what he means, Y/N,” Jimin assures, trying to comfortingly lay a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries away. As much as he tries to help, not even his soothing touch or gentle words can help rid the way you feel about the whole unfortunate situation you find yourself trapped in.

Should you fake break up with him? Tell him it’s over and pretend it never happened? Maybe you should just let this whole charade continue until his ex finally wants him back. If she even wants him back. It’ll be easier for both of you. You won’t have to face him about your feelings and he will get the girl again.

You need to keep up with this whole fake dating charade.

“I’m okay with it,” you say, plastering on a fake smile to convince the boys, mostly Jimin who’s watching you with worry in his eyes. “Really, I am.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Everyone’s head whips to see Jungkook peeking his head out from the kitchen door whose eyes find Jimin’s strewn hand resting over your shoulder and narrowing.

As everyone jumps from their comfortable spot on the couch to scramble into the dining room, Jungkook grabs your arm to pull you back from the group.

“Do you want to go home? We don’t have to eat here.” His eyes dart over to Jimin’s back disappearing with the rest of the boys to eat.

“Why not? We should just stay here.”

“But you look upset.”

You hadn’t realized the look still plastered on your face. He noticed the way your downcast eyes avoid him.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” You pull yourself away from Jungkook and follow the rest of the boys, ignoring the worried lingering eyes watching you walk away.

—

“Why are you so upset with me again?” Jungkook grumbles, slamming the front door shut behind him. You ignored him the whole time during dinner, even choosing to sit next to Jimin instead. You just didn’t feel right about this whole thing anymore.

“Because you’re such a...”

“Such a what?”

You fall on the couch, slouching into the cushions as he takes a seat next to you. Why doesn’t he see it? He’s blind to how he’s been acting lately. He’s so confusing. He acts as if you’re his real girlfriend, but doesn’t give you any real sign that he actually feels anything.

“You’re just so blind! You make me your fake girlfriend, but it doesn’t feel that way to me!”

“What do you mean? You know this was only to make Sooyoung jealous.”

That’s what hurts. The fact he doesn’t even acknowledge how you could feel.

“You act like some kind of jealous boyfriend when Jimin is around and you were never like that before. It’s just giving me mixed signals. For you maybe it was only about her, but what about me, Jungkook? What about how I feel?”

“And what do you feel?” He crosses his arms defensively, trying to figure out what you mean.

“I-I…” You can barely get the right words out, afraid of their consequence. If you don’t say the words now, you’ll be stuck. “I like you! More than you think. I like you more than a friend or roommate should and you’re just so blind!”

It feels better as the weight is lifted off your shoulders, but the longer you watch Jungkook’s expression simmer with confusion, the more you feel that pressure returning. He’s still so hung up on his ex, so what makes you think he’ll return your feelings? He did all this—pretended to have a fake girlfriend—just to make her jealous and get her back.

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I still have feelings for her, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

His hand slides onto your leg, firmly gripping the jean-clad thigh in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what else to do. Your downcast eyes find their way to the black tattoo peeking from underneath his shorts, trailing and twisting a complicated path upwards to territory unknown.

“So does that mean you could feel the same?” You swallow thickly. You’re stuck, wallowing in self-pity and the uncontrollable urge to just kiss him and hope that he’ll change his mind about everything. That just one kiss could change your relationship and you’ll have everything you want. It’s pitiful to think a measly kiss could change anything between you, but why not be daring? Why not be bold and go for it?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then do you,” you lick your lips, “want to find out?”

You begin to lean into him unconsciously letting your body make the first move. It’s just a kiss, right? When he kissed you on that soccer field everything seemed to change for you.

Your hand reaches the nape of his neck, slowly intertwining timid fingers with the dark, silky strands of hair, daring to brush your nose against his. Breathless—the air leaves your lungs with each centimeter your lips get closer.

“Y/N…” he murmurs just inches away from you, inches away from crossing an unspoken line of friendship.

As soon as your lips lock something more than friendship ignites. The warmth passing throughout your body is something more than the tingle of first kisses and innocent butterflies dancing around your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand moves from your thigh, sliding up to latch around your waist, pulling you forward until your chests press against one another. It’s like a spark has lit between you two, creating an irresistible pull to cling onto one another desperately.

His lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over your body, arching further into him for more. “J-Jungkook,” you moan as he pushes you back to lay flat against the couch.

He hovers over you, kneeled between your parted thighs, dark bangs brushing over his crescent lids and nearly shielding the hungry gaze in his eyes. Fingers teasingly circle the button of your jeans as his gaze flickers between wary and lustful. Jungkook cocks his head before asking, “You want this?”

Without a voice, you nod your response, hoping it’s enough to ease him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes, I want this, Jungkook,” you whine, gripping his forearm with one hand to move him against your jeans again.

Your verbal confirmation allows Jungkook to finally move to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hand into your pants without hesitation. He’s eager now, not even waiting until you can get your pants off fully. Easily, he finds your clit and begins to rub in slow, languid up and down motions to draw out a pretty moan from your lips. He cracks a grin hearing those little whimpers and feeling your legs curl around his thighs from the pleasure he bring you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the cushions when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck off your juices. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac that is you.

You lift your hips off the couch to press yourself into his erection, grinding against the loose material of his soccer shorts, feeling the hardness of his cock laid on your stomach. You tremble with anticipation as he pulls down your jeans, staring at your exposed cunt.

“God,” he groans, sliding himself down your body until he’s level with your pussy. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping.”

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, “f-fingers.”

“Fingers or my dick first? Because you’re coming on both tonight.”

If your mouth wasn’t already hanging open from his fingers sliding up and down your folds, it would be now.

You gasp when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers claw at his shoulders between your thighs. “I just want you. I want all of you.”

“Shit, I don’t think I want to wait. Just ride me now.”

Jungkook pulls himself away from your core, pulling his jersey over his head and his soccer shorts down. As he slings his clothes aside and relaxes against the couch, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You’re really going to have sex with your roommate/best friend. This is either the biggest mistake of your life or the greatest turn of events. The muscles in your arms stiffen as you grip his shoulders for stability.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and pushing back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “We both want this, right?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip before aligning with his cock.

He’s right. You want this as much as he does. You trust him—love him.

As your dripping folds brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively lower yourself further, taking the rest of him in swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick, has you moaning out his name, gasping for air, “Mhm, Jungkook.”

You rock your hips into him, already feeling yourself tightening and clenching. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full.

Jungkook takes your hips, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, causing you to scream.

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into the cushions and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clench shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax. Jungkook’s finger slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you gonna come?” He asks, breathlessly, pulling his head forward to kiss your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises against your skin.

“Y-Yes,” you pant, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good. ”

At this point whatever tumbles out of your mouth is just unfiltered thoughts.

“Then come,” he moans against your neck, “Come all over my cock.”

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive mound is all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure. Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him.

Not long after, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally maxed out, you feel him going soft inside you. Jungkook slowly slips himself out, careful not to let any of your juices drip onto the couch by stuffing two fingers into you and plugging you up.

You let out a little whine, “Ah, wh-”

“This couch was expensive,” he chuckles, “We don’t need any stains.”

“Well, who told you to buy the expensive couch?”

“I know a better place where we can make a mess.”

Just as Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to hoist you up from the couch, there is a small knock on the door. Both your heads turn, afraid it might be your neighbors with a noise complaint.

“Jungkook?”

It’s Sooyoung’s voice.

“What is she doing here?” You ask, not realizing how shaky your voice sounds. Fuck, she isn’t supposed to be here. Not now.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Meet me in my room. I’ll take care of you right after,” he winks, slipping his fingers out of you and licking up both your arousals off his fingers.

You giggle, “Okay, hurry up then.”

Maybe he really has gotten over her, you can’t help but feel the giddy sense of joy as you scurry to his room, looking over your shoulder to see him throw back on his soccer uniform and fix his hair.

You run into his room, throwing yourself onto his bed and spreading your body out on the sheets, grinning happily to yourself. What a dream—you can hardly believe it. Could this be the start a new relationship between the two of you?

Voices raise in the living room, you catch a faint word of Jungkook and Sooyoung’s conversation.

“...me back…”

“... still in love…”

“...can’t… somewhere…”

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, completely naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to come back for what feels like hours. You’re curious. What are they talking about for so long? Jungkook said he’d be quick to shoo her away. Worry begins to set, and a sense of doubt starts to plague your mind. What if…?

You slip out of his bed and tiptoe down the hall to your room to grab something to cover yourself up.

As soon as the fluffy, white robe is wrapped around you, you skip back out into the hall and peek over to see what you suspected all along.

You’re trembling—sick to your stomach—watching as Jungkook wraps a strong arm around her waist to pull her in. His lips are pressed against hers. That kiss is no mistake. He still loves her. It’s clear nothing between you two has flourished into anything you’d hoped for, instead it comes crashing all around you into dust.

You wonder if she can taste your arousal on his lips still lingering after he finished with you. How can he kiss her so passionately when those same lips were on you just moments ago?

You’re foolish to believe that one night could change anything. He said he still had feelings for her. They were together for years. It’s not so easy to forget your first love.

The burning tears that well up in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, protecting yourself, begin to fall.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper. Even if you screamed it, it seems as if that wouldn’t break up the couples’ passionate reunion.

You find yourself laid in bed, curled up with an emptiness in your stomach, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. You should clean up. Wash away traces of him on your body, get rid of whatever he touched.

You force yourself out of bed, across the hall, glancing over at the front door to find the two nowhere to be found. They left? He left? Jungkook fucks you and leaves right after as if him kissing his ex wasn’t a hard enough pill to swallow.

The scorching water isn’t enough to clean away how you feel. Such a sinking feeling isn’t easy to scrub away no matter how many time you claw your hands over those marks he left you, hoping the traces of him will disappear.

Once you’re out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and laid back in bed, curled into a ball, you scroll through your phone to distract yourself. Somehow your thumb finds Jimin’s phone number. You bite your lip, wondering whether or not you should message him. You just want someone to talk to—someone to hold.

[You - 11:36 PM] hey

You lay your phone down, hoping for a quick response. You idly drum your fingers against your sheets, resisting the urge to cry again as your thoughts are muddled by images of Jungkook and Sooyoung.

[Jimin - 11:39 PM] what’s up? It’s pretty late

[You - 11:39 PM] yeah I guess it is… you’re probably resting before the big game tomorrow… I just wanted someone to talk to and you always say you’re here for me

Seconds after sending that message, your phone begins to buzz as a photo of Jimin pops up on your screen.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out croaked, parched because of all the crying you’ve been doing.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds upset, not at you but because he’s worried. At least you know one person cares about you.

“I just feel like an idiot.” Your voice wavers, threatening to choke up again and start to sob. “I just—I want to talk to someone right now.”

There’s silence on the line and then the sound of sheets rustling.

“Hello?” You call.

“I’m coming over.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stutter, wiping away a stray tear. “The championship is tomorrow. You need sleep.”

“And you need me, so I’m coming.”

It isn’t negotiable for him. He hangs up right after, leaving you to wait for his arrival almost ten minutes later despite living almost thirty minutes away.

Jimin arrives with his hair in disarray, a tee shirt, and pajama bottoms, and his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. You wrap the robe around you tighter, hoping to cover the hickeys along your collar away from sight. He rushes forward without an invitation to envelop you in a comforting hug.

“The fuck happened? Was it Jungkook?”

His questions are drowned out as you allow yourself to ease into him, releasing all the tension you’ve built.

“Don’t talk about him.”

That’s all he needs to know to close his mouth and guide you to the couch, reminding himself to deal with the problem later and comfort you first.

For a while it’s just silence, time ticking away as you sit together in each other’s arms, and then your sniffles, sobs, and tears. They come in waves of different emotions: regret, sorrow, and anger.

“I should have been smarter. I knew he loved her. He said he still had feelings for her! I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot. Stop blaming yourself for Jungkook’s mistakes. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“But I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with his stupid plan!”

“Wait, what plan?”

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve and sigh, “He wanted to make Sooyoung jealous so she’d want him back, so we pretended to date.”

“He used you?”

You can feel his temper flaring in the way his posture straightens and his hands tighten around your waist.

When the front door creaks open both your heads whip around to find Jungkook sneaking back into the house, freshly disarrayed hair. Once he spots the two of you cuddled up on the couch in each other’s arms, he pauses underneath the door frame as he gapes at your teary, puffy eyes.  

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin sneers, rising off the couch with nothing but contempt written on his face.

“Don’t,” you weakly murmur, pulling on his hand before he can advance any further.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think you can just sleep with Y/N and then go off to fuck your ex who cheated on you?”

Jimin rips his hand from your grasp, unable to contain the anger he’s built up from watching you cry over Jungkook.

Jungkook eases back towards the hanging mirror, raising his hands up as a feeble way to shield himself from the older’s advances. Too afraid of the menacing look in Jimin’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have-”

An excruciatingly, sharp crack of bone and flesh connecting and shards of glass shattering, resonating throughout the living room before Jungkook can finish his sentence. Pieces of broken mirror scatter all around Jungkook’s feet along with drops of blood as he curses, sliding to the floor and holding his shoulder.

“Jimin!” You exclaim, rushing from the couch to Jungkook’s side and inspecting his scratched up arm. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that!”

“Maybe I didn’t, but he deserves it,” Jimin spits, refusing to come to Jungkook’s aid.

There aren’t deep shards of glass embedded Jungkook’s arm, it’s just minor cuts scattered across his skin. Thankfully, it’s nothing that calls for serious medical attention.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook chuckles, wincing as his freshly bruised jaw begins to burn as his mouth moves, “That’s like… seven years of bad luck, isn’t it?”

He knows how badly he fucked up and how badly you must hate him now. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You’re in no mood to laugh with him.

“Come on.” You tug on his hands, standing up to help him on his feet. “Get up and put some ice on your face.”

Jungkook wobbles to his feet, cradling his jaw and sidestepping around Jimin who stands firmly in the path leading to the kitchen.

“You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” Jimin offers as soon as Jungkook is out of sight and rummaging for a bag to put ice in, “if you’re not comfortable staying here alone with him.”

“There’s nothing worse he can do now, Jimin,” you sigh, looking around for something to sweep up the glass. You don’t want Jimin hovering over you the whole night, you feel bad enough forcing him out of bed, but it’ll just cause more tension if he and Jungkook stay under the same roof. “You might as well go home. There’s a game tomorrow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jimin hesitantly says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You follow after Jimin as he moves to the door. You wave him off and shut the door behind him, letting out a frustrated huff as you look back at Jungkook. He’s is still in the kitchen leaning against the island and tenderly holding an ice pack to his jaw. You don’t know whether to approach him or just walk away, back to your room where you’ll continue to wallow alone.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a pathetic apology, murmured under his breath as you walk past the kitchen. You pause, stepping back beneath the threshold.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that you slept with me or sorry that you took back Sooyoung right after?”

You watch Jungkook wince, not from the throbbing on his cheek but from the harshness of your words. He stares at the floor, not daring to face you.

You leave him behind not bothering to say goodnight.  

—

The morning of the championship game comes too quickly and you still can’t find it in your heart to forgive Jungkook. When you hear the sounds of Jungkook shuffling in the hallway out to the kitchen for his ritual bowl of cereal, his footsteps come to a stop in front of your door.

He hesitates to knock, choosing to stand in the hallway and dejectedly stare at your door. You listen as his footsteps recede. As you silently stare at your bedroom door, wondering if you should go out.

You know you’re supposed to be there for him today as his ‘lucky charm,’ but how are you supposed to crawl out of bed and be there for him when he couldn’t be bothered to stay with you last night?

You curl yourself further into your blankets, shielding yourself from the sounds of Jungkook pouring his cereal, zipping up his duffle bag, shooing Pitch away, then walking out the front door alone.

Once the front door shuts, you pull yourself out of bed, dragging along a blanket over your head and into the living room where you fall on the couch with a defeated sigh. Pitch meows before jumping up to snuggly curl beside your feet.

His game should be ending already and if it were a perfect world you two would’ve been headed to dinner. You bought a dress already, before yesterday, you were counting down the days until the game but now you’re just counting down the minutes that you won’t be. You want to go to dinner, sit and talk, laugh and pretend he didn’t break your heart the night before.

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] we lost the game :/

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] it was my fault rlly… i was distracted. everything is my fault.

[Jungkook - 6:51 PM] will you still meet me for dinner?

You toss your phone aside, leaving his texts unanswered. His last message makes you wonder though. You want to go to a fancy dinner and just pretend for a night that nothing ever went wrong between the two of you. Might as well pretend to get ready, pretend that Jungkook could love you the same way, pretend to be happy.

“Pitch, you love me, don’t you?” You murmur, running your hands along his spine before standing to prepare for what could’ve been a good night.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t love you, it was that he couldn’t love you the same way you did him.

Pitch lets out a content meow, following after you into your bedroom.

You pick out the dress hanging in your closet, laying it down on your bed.

“I’m not going to forgive him so easily, Pitch,” you say as Pitch seems to give you a look saying ‘really?’. “I just want to feel good about myself for once,” you huff. This is all for you. Maybe you'll dress up and stay on the couch all day eating ice cream and watching movies. Fancy dresses don’t have to mean fancy dinner. Fancy dresses are just a confidence booster.

Minutes turn to an hour and you’re finally ready for absolutely nothing—no date, no night out with your friends—just nothing. But you feel good, a little better than before, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“His loss,” you confidently say, trying hard to convince yourself to stay positive.

[Jungkook - 7:32 PM] hey im at the restaurant if you decide to meet me… i really hope you do. Let’s start over.

[Jungkook - 7:35 PM] i’ll wait if thats what it takes.

Reading his texts make you feel guilty for standing him up, but you won’t go. You stay put right where you are, comfortably lounging on the couch with a tub of ice cream and Pitch at your side.

“He’s just going to have to sit there a little while longer.”

When Pitch jumps off the couch running over to his litter box, you sit back with a sigh, playing with the hem of your dress.

When the clock touches half-past eight o’clock, the door unlocks and Jungkook walks through with a bouquet clutched in his hands. He’s as dressed up as you are, wearing a tucked in a white button-up with black slacks. He stops once he sees you, dressed up and alone.

“You look,” he’s awestruck, “beautiful.”

“Thank you… You look good too,” you awkwardly say, eyes darting around to avoid his

“Oh,” he flushes, flattening out the front of his shirt. He realizes the flowers in his hands, holding out to you hesitantly. “I-I bought you flowers.” The scarlet petals almost match the shade of his cheeks as he presents the red flowers wrapped in a thin layer of plastic to you.

You take them from him, running your fingers delicately over the petals.

Glancing over at the purple and black bruise Jimin had given him last night, you almost wince at the sight. “How are you?”

Jungkook grimaces, “I’m okay, I guess. I-I waited for you. At dinner. You never showed so the waiter felt kinda bad for me,” he faintly chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, “he said I could come back again if ‘my date ever changed her mind’ and let me make a new reservation.”

You nod slowly, twisting the frills of your decorative pillows. It’s just silence, then—

“I was fucking stupid for kissing her,” he admits suddenly, “I swear, I would take it back. I-I just… we were together for a long time. It’s hard to just forget how I feel.”

“So now what?”

“I told her I can’t be with her that’s why I left last night. I… I love you. Let’s start over and let’s do this right.”

The twinge you feel in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach, tells you how guilty he really is.

Jungkook rounds the corner of the couch to sit beside you, thighs touching, reminding you of last night. You scoot away, placing the flowers between your bodies to separate yourselves.

“Stop.”

He accepts the distance, not wanting to push you further away.

“I’m sorry. I-I just want a second chance to prove that I do care about you.” The genuine look in his eyes shows you only regret and the promise to make it up.

You look down at the flowers between the two of you, picking at the petals. You don’t want to lose Jungkook as a friend, even if he did break your heart. He will always be your best friend. He wants to make it work, and you want to give him a chance to make it up. Maybe you won’t fully return the feelings that were once there, but you can still make an effort to forgive him.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”