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charturnus · 2 years

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I know that if you hide, it doesn't go away

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

a/n: Before we start, just a bit of housekeeping. I changed the POV from second person to first, because writing in second person was driving me up the wall. I will edit chapter 1 so that the whole story will be told in first person.

I’m so sorry that this took so long, I had exams and a crazy work week and I had to write little bits and pieces where I could. That being said, I feel a bit uncomfortable about this chapter, as if it’s all a bit disjointed. I hope that you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. Next chapter will be a lot more light-hearted, and you might even get a first glimpse at the smut yet to come!

Warnings: angst; anxiety; major mommy issues (not the fun kind).

Summary: Chapter II; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU

After moving in with Wanda, you struggle to come to terms with your unaddressed anxieties. Wanda is there to smooth it all out for you, with a hug and a lullaby.

Previous chapter

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The day after signing the contract, I am all set to move in with Wanda.

Pepper tied all the loose ends of my work life together, with miraculous speed. My replacement was found in Maria Hill, a dedicated, hard-working, honest employee, as Pepper would have me know. I had the chance to speak to her briefly, before departing my office on the day of the signing, running into her in the hallway.

‘’Don’t worry, I’ll keep the ship afloat’’. She had said with a wink and a smile. ‘’Your work is in safe hands.’’

She certainly seemed trustworthy enough, and at any rate, I had plenty of other things to worry about right now. If she was good enough for Pepper, then she was most certainly good enough for me.

Now I find myself in Wanda Maximoff’s car, anxiously fiddling with my nails, mulling over everything that still has to be sorted out. Before I can officially settle into the Maximoff residence, I have to move some of my belongings from my apartment to her house.

I am in the middle of debating which books I ought to bring with me today, when Wanda interrupts my train of thought.

‘’I’ve paid the year’s rent forward’’ she says, her eyes flitting between me in the passenger seat of her Bentley, and the road in front of us. ‘’That way, you can choose to go back if you want to once the year is over.’’

My head whips around to stare at her. ‘’You really didn’t have to do that…’’ I mumble, embarrassedly. ‘’I could always just find something new.’’

‘’Nonsense, I don’t want to take your home away from you.’’

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The backs of my thighs are sticking to the leather, and I feel distinctly out of place next to Wanda, who looks as though she just stepped off a shoot for Vogue. My mouth still tastes distinctly of toothpaste, and I wish I had brought some water with me.

‘’It’s not really my home,’’ I tell her. ‘’I’m hardly ever there.’’

‘’It’s not?’’ She asks, her eyebrows knitting together like they always do when she’s confused. ‘’Well, where is your home then? With your family?’’

I know she means well, but her questions feel like a blow to the gut. I feel hollow all of a sudden, as though I’ve been made aware of a gaping hole in the depths of my body. How have I not felt it until now?

‘’I don’t really have a family.’’ I admit awkwardly. ‘’My dad passed away five years ago, and I have a sister, but she moved to Switzerland with her husband three years ago. So it’s just me.’’

‘’What about your mother?’’

I swallow dryly, the minty, tacky aftertaste of the toothpaste is becoming overwhelming. Mixed with the Bentley’s new car smell, I feel as though I could vomit any second now. I breathe deeply, in through my nose and out through my mouth. Trying my hardest not to show any of my discomfort.

‘’I don’t have a mother.’’ I say abruptly, before backtracking. ‘’Well- I mean, everyone has a mother, I just mean that she isn’t- We don’t-’’

‘’It’s okay honey, you don’t have to tell me.’’ Wanda says reassuringly, resting her right hand briefly on my bare thigh and giving it a squeeze.

My breath escapes me for a moment as I take in the feeling of her warm hand against my naked thigh, feeling the coolness of her rings as she rubs gentle circles on my skin. Her touch sends a strange calmness through my body.

‘’She’s just not a good person.’’ I finally decide. ‘’I haven’t seen her since I was 12… Actually- I did see her last year, but that was only for 10 minutes and I spent most of that time just shouting at her.’’ I say with an uncomfortable laugh.

‘’I’m sorry, honey.’’ Wanda says, and I get the sense that she really does feel sorry for me.

By this point I’m so used to people telling me they’re sorry for my situation, that it’s become quite easy to tell who really cares and who doesn’t.

Wanda has to remove her hand from my thigh in order to make the turn into my street, and I mourn the loss of her touch. Resting my hand on the area, feeling the residual warmth, I find myself wishing she would put it back, wishing she would touch me more.

***

I let Wanda into my apartment with a hint of embarrassment. I know it’s beyond silly to be ashamed of my place, but under Wanda’s scrutinizing gaze I suddenly feel the need to hide everything away. My apartment is spacious and well-kept, a proper place for a childless twenty-something to live. Still, the feeling of inadequacy follows me steadily as I watch anxiously as Wanda moves around the living room, taking in the scene in front of her.

After signing the contract, I took the first opportunity of privacy to look up Wanda’s home address. It was easy enough to find and the Google image search provided everything I needed. Wanda lived in luxury, in a grand house fit for 12 people to live in. She’s used to the best of the best, a spotless home filled with furniture and decoration the best her money can buy. Her walls are adorned with paintings done by famous and long dead artists.

My apartment is filled with IKEA furniture, the art on my walls is comprised of various artistic renditions of scenes from my favourite fictional worlds, and every spare nook and cranny of the place is stuffed with books.

‘’I know it isn’t much...’’ I say sheepishly, as Wanda studies a map of the Shire hanging above my sitting room sofa. ‘’Like I said, I’m hardly even here so I didn’t really bother.’’

She leans over to pick something up from the edge of the sofa, and with horror I realize she is holding my copy of The complete tales of Winnie-the-Pooh. Instantly I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, but Wanda merely scrunches her nose affectionately.

‘’I think your place is cosy,’’ She says with a smile. ‘’And this is adorable, are you reading this?’’ she says, indicating the makeshift bookmark (an old take-out menu) sticking out from the top.

‘’I read it sometimes when I’ve had an awful day’’ I admit bashfully. ‘’It just helps to soothe me, I suppose.’’

I shrug half-heartedly and look away. I feel so childish like this, much too vulnerable. First talking about my family and now the apartment and the book. I feel so out of place, even though she is the outsider in my world right now.

Still, I feel too underdressed in my flowing skirt and silk blouse. The blouse is real silk, a treat I bought for myself with my first paycheque three years ago. I felt so grand the first time I wore it, as though I could take on anyone and everyone who’d dare question me.

Now I can only focus on how it’s one size too big and how my shoes are a little too worn. Next to Wanda in her well-tailored suit and shining high-heels, I feel like a child playing at adulthood.

It feels as though she has unzipped my skin just to have a thorough look at me. I don’t want to know what she sees when she looks at me, I want to keep her at an arm’s length distance, just like everyone else in my life, so that I don’t have to feel her inevitable disappointment in me. And yet, simultaneously, I want her to wrap me up in her arms and tell me that all will be well, that I needn’t worry about her judgement.

‘’It’s adorable.’’ She says, dipping her head to the side to find my gaze. ‘’We all need something to help us relax sometimes, there’s no shame in that.’’

She hands me the book and I take it from her wordlessly, watching as she takes a seat on my shabby little sofa. ‘’You go on and pack your things, I don’t want to intrude.’’

This had been one of my many demands, I wanted to collect my private items by myself. I didn’t want strangers invading my privacy like that. So Wanda had kindly offered to drive me down here myself for one last time, so I could collect everything I needed.

In two days' time, a specialized company (hired by Wanda, of course) would arrive to settle the place, covering the furniture and making sure it would still be in good condition in one years’ time. As if I had never left my old life at all.

I pack a suitcase full of my clothes and shoes, picking out of all my favourite items for an array of different occasions. I still don’t know the full extent of what we’ll be doing together, but I know that there will be cameras pointed at me all the time, so I have to look my best.

Once that suitcase is stuffed to the brim, I climb over my bed, reaching underneath for a shoebox and a tote bag. The shoebox is from my childhood, a remnant of a pair of shoes my mother bought me when I was four. Inside lives the extent of my childhood memories, pictures and little artworks I made as a child, the little bracelet and hat I had on the day I left the hospital. Most of it is junk, but the pictures inside are the only ones I have of my mother, most of them are from before I was born, and I find it hard to recognize the woman in them as my mother. Still, once or twice a year, when the agonizing hollowness of my heart rears its ugly head and I can’t suppress it, I like to take out the pictures and remember what it felt like to be loved and cared for.

I shove the box into my old gym bag, which has plenty of space to hold it. And I fumble with the straps of the tote bag, trying to fold it into a neat little package. Inside this, I have stashed my various sex toys, some vibrators, a suction cup dildo and a strap without its harness. My ex still has the harness I realize with some annoyance as I check the contents of the tote, but no matter, I’m not allowed to date for a whole year anyway, so I won’t need to replace it soon. As I struggle to mold the bag into a shape that will fit in the gym bag, I wonder how I will hide these from Wanda. In this apartment I live alone, and yet I still feel the need to hide them away.

When I finally manage to stuff the tote into my gym bag, I secure it to the top of my suitcase, ready to be whisked away to my new bedroom in Wanda’s spacious house.

I wish I could stand in this room and wistfully stare around, thinking of all the happy memories I made here. But truth be told, I’m glad to go, glad to leave this all behind.

When I get back to the living room, Wanda is standing up once more, her head cocked to one side as she takes in the many books on my shelves. She looks up at the sound of my footsteps.

‘’Did you get everything you need?’’ She asks, placing my copy of The price of salt back on the shelf.

‘’Almost! I’m just bringing back a few books for now, I don’t know how long it’ll be before all of these are brought back to your place.’’

‘’After you then, madam.’’ Wanda says with a flourish, indicating the bookshelf with both of her hands.

I smile and shake my head. I still cannot comprehend that I get to see Wanda Maximoff like this. She’s so at ease now, treating me as though I might be a friend. Every time she lets out a hearty laugh or cracks a joke, I marvel at the realness of her.

Throughout the duration of my little office crush, it often felt like Wanda was simply unattainable, so far out of reach that I couldn’t even begin to conceptualize what she might be like in private. Now I watch her from the corner of my eye as I pull out four books from my shelf, taking her in as she moves curiously around the room.

What a luxury to see her like this, relaxed and at ease. It makes me wonder how she looks early in the morning, before breakfast, still with bed hair. I wonder too what she is like in the evenings at home, does she wear sweats? Does she snack on sweets as she watches TV? I long to see her like this, I don’t even have to be an active participant. I just want to watch her be her normal self, and bask in the gratitude of that privilege.

She turns to me with a bright, beaming smile, seeing the books in my arms.

‘’Are you ready to go?’’

***

Wanda gives me the grand tour of the house, as soon as we’ve pulled up into the driveway. She chatters on about each room, which she herself designed together with an architect. I merely try to keep up, each room blending into the next. I find myself wondering why on earth she needs a house of this size when she’s the sole occupant.

Wanda guides me through every room, chatting cheerfully about the decoration, the appliances and the ways in which each room could be used. She shows me the basics first, the dining room, sitting room, kitchen and the laundry room. Soon however, I am stunned into silence by the library, her home office, the gym and the cinema, all located on the same floor. She laughs at my look of bewilderment and assures me that (other than her office) I am welcome to make good use of the rooms in her house.

After most of the house has been seen, Wanda takes me up to see what she refers to as the wisteria wing.

‘’Usually it’s east and west, I think.’’ Wanda chortles as she leads the way up the stairs. ‘’But I can never remember which is which, so I chose to name them after flowers instead.’’

I smile to myself, thinking about Wanda carefully selecting two types of flowers that would go well with the word wing, so she wouldn’t be confused. It’s just so endearing that I can’t help but chuckle along with her, and wonder how much more of this whimsical side of her I will be privy to in the future.

The wisteria wing turns out to be a lot smaller than expected, but it gives off a warm and cosy feeling. The plush burgundy carpet feels soft beneath my feet and the dark cherry wood detailing of the hallway makes this place look like something out of a storybook.

Wanda pushes open the first door we get to, holding it for me so that I can step in first. This is the first room I’ve been in that feels untouched, neglected almost. The room is mostly empty, the walls coloured a simple off-white, no decoration and hardly any furniture. The room only holds a master bed complete with night stands, a dresser and an armchair with a standing lamp in the corner. Three other doors lead out of the room, in addition to the door we came in from. Curiously, I peer into the one that’s already ajar.

‘’That’s your ensuite,’’ Wanda explains. ‘’This bedroom is yours.’’ She adds when I look up at the mention of something being mine. ‘’It’s unfinished, of course, but you may decorate however you’d like.’’

I stare around the room with a sense of disbelief. My mind turns to the coming year and how much time I’ll be spending in this room. I feel like such a stranger here, I wonder if this place could ever feel like home.

‘’That’s so kind of you, I’ll see what I’ll do with it once I’ve settled in properly.’’

I try my best to sound both grateful and cheerful. Really, I am very grateful for Wanda’s hospitality. But I can’t shake the anxious feeling brewing in the pit of my stomach. Wanda is already moving through another of the doors, merrily chatting on about the house’s interior design.

‘’This is my bedroom.’’ She proclaims as I make my way into the room. ‘’I hope you don’t mind, but we’re neighbours. She says with a smile. Indeed, our rooms are connected by a door on the opposite wall to my bed.

‘’There used to be talk about making your room into a walk-in closet or dressing room of some kind.’’ Wanda says vaguely. ‘’But I never found the time to make it happen.’’

‘’A good thing, too.’’ I say, trying to make light of the situation. ‘’Or I’d be sleeping in a closet right now.’’

***

After that Wanda leaves me to settle in, in private. I unpack the few belongings I brought, trying to use my books to liven up the room a little bit. It doesn’t really work. For a while, I sit down in the armchair and try to stop myself from spiralling. I tell myself to keep busy, to keep my hands and my brain occupied, so my anxieties can’t take over and drag me down into a pit of hopeless despair. I tell myself to be grateful, to be happy. I have been given the most amazing opportunity, one many people would kill for. And yet, I’m sitting here sulking like a child.

An annoying little voice gnaws at the back of my mind, telling me that I know damn well this move or this situation with Wanda isn’t the cause of my distress. I push it all away, making up my mind to head downstairs and see if Wanda has anything I can help her with. A good dose of work will get rid of these pestering thoughts.

To my great disappointment, however, Wanda has her laptop propped open on the sitting room table, the voice of some board member making its way through the speakers. She notices me as I shuffle in awkwardly, trying to stay out of sight of the camera.

She reaches for a notepad and a pen and scribbles something down, shoving the pad and a little black card across the table in my direction.

Unexpected meeting, will run late, sorry :(

Order yourself some dinner with my card!

She gives me an apologetic smile before turning her attention back to her laptop screen and replying to what’s-his-face. I force my face into a mild smile of understanding, mouthing ‘’thank you.’’ before slinking off to the kitchen. It takes me two tries to find the right door. First I end up in the laundry room and then the pantry, before finally getting it right.

Standing in the doorway for a while, I stare out at the shining countertops, I feel the dread truly sink down into the pit of my stomach. I don’t want any food. I lay Wanda’s card down onto the nearest counter, making sure it’s in plain sight and can’t be overlooked. For good measure, I take a picture of it with my phone. The last thing I need is to be accused of theft.

I allow myself to stay in the kitchen for a little while. It’s as if I’ve convinced myself that this is a liminal space, merely an in-between room, where I too can be in-between. In-between this fake front of cheerfulness and the true sorrow waiting to overtake me. I am sure that as soon as I step out of this room, it’ll come crashing down on my head.

I make myself busy, wiping counters that don’t need wiping, polishing silver that doesn’t need polishing, sweeping a floor that doesn’t need to be swept. Two hours pass by in this manner, and I have forced myself into a fabricated state of calm. The anguish is coiling in my stomach, I can feel it attempting to force its way out, my eyes are burning with tears that I refuse to let go. Once everything that can be done, is done. I turn off the kitchen lights, leaving the room, regretfully, behind.

Slowly, methodically, I make my way back up to the stairs, to the wisteria wing and my room. I don’t hear Wanda’s voice anymore, and I reason that she must have moved to her office in the wedelia wing. I force myself to go through the motions of my nighttime routine, scrubbing off my makeup in the shower, and pulling on my nightgown. Tears have already begun dribbling down my face by the time I climb into the shower and once I actually settle myself in my new bed, I cannot stop it any longer.

The hollow, aching, empty feeling overtakes me and I have to push my face into my pillow to block the sound of my first sob. It tears through me, making my whole body quiver. I try not to think, I try to get it to stop. I make myself recite a nursery rhyme in my head, one my mother used to sing to me, but I can’t focus. The nasty voice in my head keeps pushing itself to the front. Attempting to force me to be confronted with the reality of my situation.

I have nothing. I have no one.

I used to, a while ago, but now here I am. No mother, no sister, no father, no friends. I only have my work, and now even that is gone. The deep, throbbing ache pulses through me as though it were a second heartbeat. It hurts, it physically hurts. I press the side of my face down into the thick, soft sheets, bawling up my fists in the fabric, willing it to ground me.

Sobs wrack through my body and I fight to keep silent, knowing Wanda is awake somewhere in the house. Yet, no matter how hard I fight, the force of my sorrow wrenches open my lungs and I have to take great heaving gulps of air. My cries are too loud, I know, but I cannot stop it. I curl up into a ball, my hands tangling in my hair, tugging hard. I want it to stop. I want it all to end.

That is how Wanda finds me.

‘’Oh, my poor little dove.’’ She murmurs, carefully edging closer to the edge of my bed. ‘’it’s alright.’’ she cooes, the mattress dipping as she sits down behind me. Her warm hands find my back and every last bit of my resolve breaks, snapping like well-worn rope, and I let myself cry in earnest. To Wanda’s credit, she doesn’t try to stop me, merely rubbing my back, whispering words of comfort.

The dam has broken, the floodgates have opened, and I can’t stop myself from howling with the agony of it. I want her touch, her comforting words, I want her presence more than anything in the world. I want to be scooped up and taken care of, I want this hurt to be taken away. But I don’t want her to see me like this. So I turn from her, shrinking from her touch. I don’t want her to see my tear-stained, red and swollen face. My nose is running, and my sinuses are fully blocked. I feel repulsive. I want to hide.

‘’Please-’’ I manage to choke out, in between my ragged and uneven breaths. ‘’I don’t want you to see me like this.’’

‘’JARVIS.’’ Wanda calls, her voice echoing in the mostly empty bedroom. ‘’Turn off all bedroom lights.’’

Barely a second later, all the lights in this room, as well as Wanda’s own room, blink out. We are plunged into a darkness so absolute, that even after several moments of attempting to adjust, my eyes still cannot make out Wanda’s shape in the dark.

‘’Is that better, honey?’’ She asks gently.

Instinctively I nod, but a split second later I realize she can’t see me. ‘’It is…’’ I say, my voice thick from the mucus in my throat. Her hand has settled on my lower back once more, rubbing gentle circles.

‘’Come here, honey.’’ She says, placing her hands on my arms, allowing her to guide me. ‘’Let’s get into my room.’’

I hesitate. This isn’t Wanda’s problem, it’s mine. I should sort this out, alone with this horrid hollow feeling.

‘’You don’t have to do this.’’ I say. ‘’I can sort it out.’’

‘’I want to help you, honey. You’re clearly upset, let me help you make it better.’’

Her words are a soothing balm on my aching, hollow, heart. I’m vulnerable, I tell myself. That is why I’m so eager to accept her help.

My therapist's words from the previous week echo through my head. ‘’It’s okay to need help.’’ She had told me. ‘’You can’t do everything alone.’’

Just this once, I tell myself. I will let her help me just this once.

‘’I’m only in my nightgown.’’ I mumble embarrassedly.

‘’That’s okay, I don’t mind. Do you want to put something on?’’ Wanda asks gently.

The thought of having to wear trousers and socks to bed, even just on a regular night, makes me uncomfortable. The very last thing I need right now is to be completely overstimulated from the uncomfortable feeling of excess fabric on my legs.

‘’No, I don’t like wearing trousers in bed.’’ I say, shaking my head.

‘’Okay then, come here, I’ll show you the way.’’

Wanda guides me to her bedroom, holding her hands in mine. Blindly I shuffle forward, trying, and failing, to make out anything in the darkness surrounding us. Thankfully, it doesn’t take very long before we come to a halt and I hear the rustling of sheets.

‘’Here you are, get in, honey.’’

Awkwardly, I grope with my hands to find the bed, I brush across Wanda twice before locating the mattress. Gratefully, I settle myself on it, reaching behind me to find the pillow. Wanda pulls up the duvet and covers me with it. It’s thick and incredibly heavy, the sheets are soft to the touch and I let out a shaking sigh of comfort as I lay down.

‘’Good girl.’’ Wanda cooes. ‘’Wait just a moment, I’ll be right back.’’

I can hear her shuffle off and then the opening of a door. A light clicks on, and I realize she’s standing in her own ensuite, the door half-closed, the light allowing me to take a peek at the surrounding room. It’s just as it had been this morning, only now Wanda’s day clothes are slung over the arm of one of her chairs. The flow of tears has come to a stop, but my nose is still clogged up. I use the hem of my nightgown to wipe at my face, clearing it from the wet streaks.

When the bathroom door swings open and light fully permeates the room, I turn to hide my face from Wanda’s view. But after only several seconds, the light is turned off once more and the comforting embrace of darkness returns to me.

‘’Here honey,’’ Wanda says. ‘’put this on your face, that should make you feel a bit better.’’

Tentatively, I reach out my hands, fumbling in the air until I brush against something wet and warm. Involuntarily, I let out a yelp of surprise, which makes Wanda chuckle.

‘’It’s a wet flannel, for your eyes.’’

I take it from her sheepishly and carefully drape it over my face. A sigh of contentment escapes me, the warmth settles over my skin, soothing my overtired eyes. I feel the bed dip beside me and I hear Wanda settling in, pulling the duvet over herself too.

‘’Thank you.’’ I whisper into the dark. ‘’Not just for this but- you know, for helping me.’’

‘’Of course.’’ She whispers back. ‘’Is it okay if move closer to you?’’

I hum my ascent, making sure to wipe both my eyes and nose before grasping into the air next to me and finding the night stand where I deposit the flannel onto.

Wanda settles in next to me and I find myself scooting closer, the smell of her body lotion permeating my senses. She drapes her arms around me, scooping me up into a hug. I ought to balk at the intimacy of this action, I ought to keep some kind of professional pretence. But I am so tired, and my head is throbbing, and my soul longs for comfort. So instead of pulling away, I nuzzle my face into her neck, fighting off a new onslaught of tears.

‘’Do you want to talk about it?’’ Wanda whispers, her breath hot against the side of my face.

‘’I just feel so alone.’’ I say thickly, my throat tight from holding back sobs.

‘’You have me.’’ She says, squeezing me tightly. ‘’I’m here, little dove. I’ve got you.’’

That alone is enough to bring the second wave of tears. I cling to Wanda, as if she is the only thing in the world that can steady me in this moment. Just tonight, I tell myself. Tonight I will let myself believe her, I won’t think about the contract, I won’t think about the reality of this situation.

Wanda lets me cry, rocking me gently, pressing me tightly against her. She hums a children’s lullaby in Sokovian and I can only make out the word for cigarette, which is a repeating word in the song. I wonder briefly why you would sing to children about cigarettes, before allowing the gentle sway of Wanda’s arms and the high clear tone of her voice to rock me into a mindless state of relaxation.

After a long while, my eyes begin to drift close. I can make out the swipe of a wet cloth on my face and I mumble a sleepy thank you to Wanda, who presses a soft kiss to my forehead

Only tonight, I promise myself again, as I begin to drift off, Wanda’s hand securely in my own.

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#c: wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #little dove au #char writes

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chubbology · 4 years

Text

Getting Big

prompt: someone discovering they're a feeder as their feedee partner gets bigger

Sometimes you’re both in bed, distracted and ignoring each other on your phones or laptops, when you notice. Your eyes lift from your phone and notice your partner’s relaxed belly, rising and lowering with calm breath, stretching the fabric of their shirt. Really stretching it now, not just with every inhale, but by default. Not just pushing the seams a little with chubbier hips, but forcing the cotton to bow out close to its limit, forcing the stitching to cave into a belly button deeper and softer-looking than you remember. And your eyes inevitably take in the rest: thicker thighs, more shapely chest, less defined arms, softer jawline.

You’re aware that your partner’s gained a little weight. More than a little, but it’s fine. Probably thirty or so pounds, not a big deal, and you absolutely don’t judge them for it. Have they mentioned it at all? No, they just keep tugging at their shirts and pants. And underwear. Their underwear is getting too small for them, with weight gain making them a bit of a pear and all, but you don’t say anything. You don’t say they need bigger underwear. You don’t tell them how much you appreciate the fact that they need it. As long as they stay mum on the subject of their weight and the fit of their clothes, so will you; that’s your rule.

Sometimes you’re both in bed, watching TV, and they’re eating their way to the bottom of a quart of appallingly flavored ice cream (super-caramel-quadruple chocolate-chunk type stuff), and you keep sneaking glances. Because you’re amazed they’re comfortable enough around you to eat freely like this—or so you tell yourself. Their eyes are so glazed with distracted pleasure that maybe it didn’t even occur to them not to gorge themselves tonight, right in front of you.

Not gorging themselves like some kind of pig—no, it’s just, you both ordered a lot of takeout just a couple hours ago, and then they snacked on chips for a while, and then there was that candy bar they ate on a whim while you took out the trash, and now it’s a whole quart of ice cream. A whole quart. The more glances you sneak at them, the more you notice how their budding second chin peeks out when they chew. The more you notice that their bites seem hasty, as if tinged by some kind of distant, unconscious desperation.

You lean against them as if too tired to stay upright, reaching over them casually, letting one arm rest against their belly. It’s soft. It’s bigger. Not a big deal at all, you tell yourself for the millionth time.

And yet, you ponder their weight more. You’ve been pondering it incessantly. You can’t stop thinking about how they went to the mall two weeks ago without telling you, bought clothes a size up, and already were uncomfortably tugging and pulling on on every tight band and seam again. You can’t stop your thoughts from wandering to the idea of them sizing up again any more than your partner can stop their hands from opening another package of cookies.

“Ugh, this stuff is so good,” they mutter, swallowing the last bite, then closing the lid on the carton and setting it aside.

“Mm. I’ll buy more then,” you say without thinking. It’s fine if they size up again, after all. You’ll love them no matter their body type. Their happiness comes first. “I’m going to the grocery store anyway.”

A couple months later, going to the grocery store is not a chore to you, but a fun outing. You never used to even go down the junk food isles if you were by yourself, but now you scour them carefully. You place things in the cart you know your partner will like, and consider new brands and products they might like to try. It’s all so colorful and thrilling to actually buy. You tell yourself you might even try some of it and ignore the intrusive thought of your partner sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night again to binge on half the goodies themselves.

What niggles at you isn’t that you’re buying way too much junk food for your partner, who’s a little overweight now. It’s not as if they’ve told you to stop, or have implied they want to lose weight, or have said anything about any of it at all. That’s the thing: you’re in uncharted waters, and they haven’t told you a word about whether they fine with the way the tide was turning or whether they were actually really concerned that they were getting heavy and a little jiggly and they didn’t know what to do about it, let alone have the wherewithal to say, Honey, stop buying junk food. I’m getting fat.

Just the thought of the word makes you blush at the box of Fudge Covered Twinkies you’re holding. You quickly set them back on the shelf. Twinkies were practically the poster food for getting fat, right? Surely, your partner would suspect something, even though there wasn’t anything to suspect. You just know that they like food, particularly food that’s soft and sugary and addictive, and what better, cheaper food to comfort them with than Twinkies? No, it wouldn’t be good for their waistline, but you can already see their eyes fluttering closed at the taste—which was probably not even good, but that was hardly the point, was it?

Compromising, you buy a limited edition blue-stuffed brand of Twinkies instead, preparing an excuse that you thought the novelty of it was amusing and wondered if it was good.

But later that night, your partner eats six of them while you play video games and doesn’t mention the novelty of it at all. Your character dies stupidly and your partner laughs at you, belly jiggling as they do. You swallow, eyes fixating on their fat thighs. There’s no other word for them—they’re fat. Their thighs have gotten fat, just like their belly got fat, just like their hips and chest and arms and even their neck and face has been rounding out with so much chub. They were fat and they did eat like a pig, and all signs pointed to more weight gain. They were going to keep gaining weight, and when was it going to stop? When you finally decided enough was enough? When their doctor told them to take control? Yeah, so, you could imagine them awkwardly saying, coming home from the doctor, I guess I gotta lose weight. Maybe they would be holding a pamphlet on obesity or something, looking ashamed.

And maybe they would try at first. You would help. They’d exercise a little here and there, maybe only eat one Twinkie instead of six, maybe not ask for takeout so often. But it wouldn’t last. The second their will broke, yours would too. And you’d both be in bed, distracted by nothing but endless waves of pleasure that your sex life hadn’t known in a while, them leaning back against the headboard, eating every fattening thing you had to offer, which would be many, many, as many fattening things as they’d agree to swallow down like they glutton they were becoming.

“Babe?”

You blink.

“You okay?” they say with that chubby face of theirs, a face that said, I’ve been gaining so much weight, and you’re really aroused.

“I’m glad you like those,” you stutter. You look at the Twinkies box, and so do they. Your mouth keeps moving without forethought. “I’ll buy you more next time. Any other flavors you like?” You set down your controller and push your hand into their hair affectionately. Since they’re slouched, they look up at you, and you lower your hand to the back of their neck, touching the bulge of the fat there. “Want me to get you your favorite ice cream? I know you had a long day at work.” You stand and head for the kitchen, ignoring your partner’s confused ums and wells.

You open the freezer and get one of many ice cream quarts. Thanks to you, the fridge and freezer have been stuffed to the gills with crap, but you can’t regret it, not when it makes your partner look perpetually stuffed to the gills too. You get a spoon and sit down next to them again, brain fuzzy with want. “You’ll feel better when you finish this. By the time you do, I’ll finally finish this damn level.”

“I’m—I’m not…” But the look in their eyes is conflicted. “I’m not that hungry, really.”

You laugh. Your body is buzzing. “Please. With you, when you eat and when you’re hungry are completely unrelated. Let’s make it a competition! Finish before I do. Go!”

“What?”

You’re already starting the level over, thinking to yourself What the hell? Don’t make them eat if they don’t want to. Even if they do want to, even when they’re full, because they’re greedy and addicted, gonna get obese soon—

A minute passes, and they’re sitting up, belly folded in rolls on their lap, looking poised to either stand up and put the ice cream away or rip the lid off and devour it all.

“Eat it,” you say innocently, or try to. It mostly comes out like a pathetic attempt at sounding not-horny.

You glance over, and they still look conflicted, so you lean over and kiss them on their tubby cheek. “Go ahead,” you say, quieter. You meet their eyes. “Don’t you want to?”

They look taken aback now, flushed. All at once, they seem aware of their blubbery, overweight body, and they shift on the couch. You forget the game and lean in again, kissing them on the lips, then deeper as they lean into you. “I know you want to,” you whisper. You cup their fattened hip, squeeze it gently. “I bet you really want to.”

They’re blushing really hard now, gone shy and speechless. So you move closer to them, and since their head is lowered to avoid your eyes, you land a sweet peck on their bulging second chin. Then you peel off the lid of the carton, tear the plastic off, and push the spoon satisfyingly into the over-processed sugar that has been fattening your partner out of their clothes so well.

Despite their air of reluctance, they eat the spoonful you offer as if on instinct. They squirm with pleasure, and your breath hitches when their plump hand twitches out to take the spoon away from you when you don’t use it quick enough. You scoop them another bite. Then another. The room is quiet except for the game in the background and your rapidly beating heart. Their eyelids lower, and you murmur encouraging words to them. That’s it. It’s good, huh? Big bite... The experience seems no less momentous to them than to you, and so you keep going. Their eyes drift shut and so you guide their mouth to open at the right times. Eventually, your cooing gets bolder.

“I know how much you like this. Like eating. Eating a little too much.”

Their mouth pauses around the spoon, but their eyes don’t open. They swallow and wait for the next bite.

“And I know you get up in the middle of the night sometimes, just to eat,” you say. “Eat and eat until your clothes feel tight and your stomach’s queasy, right? You always come back to bed so uncomfortable, tossing and turning, panting a little. Holding back little burps. I wake up and all the junk food I bought is gone.”

Your partner leans into to your next spoonful, then takes it from you. Without meeting your eyes, they start eating from the tub themselves, at twice your pace. You smooth your fingers through their hair. Then rub a hand down their arm, which was now sausage-like with so much fat clinging to it. But it’s squishy, when you pinch it. No firmness anywhere you can see.

“I’m sure you know you’re getting big, baby. You’re getting big. But that’s okay.” You rub your hands over their belly, their hips, their rolls of back fat. “You just keep eating as much as you like.”

And after another pause, they nod.

#weight gain #fic #askbox prompts #genderless #reader feeder #nonbinary gainer

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tojiot · 3 years

Note

ooh have about the main three with the fake dating trope :D

fake dating the main three

gn!reader, cursing here and there, typos and grammatical errors to be edited, past tense - present tense swerving to be fixed.

note: i was on vacation for 2 days without internet and i have bakugo's done in my notes but my phone died before i can even save it :D this will be kinda long because i went ahead of myself and detailed it exactly how i want. this is not betaed. please do tell me if there's a non they/them pronouns in here. hope you'll enjoy this!

requests are: open!

ㅡ bakugo

i spent the whole day thinking about how he'll agree to fake date. let's just say he's the one in need.

his mom has been bothering him for a long time now. she wants to see katsuki bring home a partner for them to meet.

it's a pain in the ears and he's very TIRED so he decided to just fake date somebody.

the only person he can tolerate in class a aside from kirishima is you. he doesn't care about the other extras.

he'll search for you in the heights' lounge area and ask to talk.

"hey, can we talk?" he grumbles, "uhh, sure? do you want to talk here or somewhere private?" "somewhere private."

when you guys are in a more private area, he'd glare at you for a minute, it'll make you wonder if you did something wrong, before finally speaking.

"date me for a fucking day."

you'll snort at what he said and laugh thinking it was a joke but the annoyed and impatient look on his face says otherwise.

"wait.. are you for real?" "what do you think, shithead?"

bakugo trusts you so much that you have this significant role to play in his life.

you agreed, of course. it's the bakugo katsuki asking for your help. a once in a lifetime chance. (you just like him, stop making things up)

he brings you to the bakugo household the day after and his house is BIG big.

mitsuki, his mom, welcomes you with a big smile and a hug. he then glares at his son, "WHY ARE YOU ONLY BRINGING THIS PRETTY LITTLE CREATURE NOW, YOU BRAT?" "SHUT UP, OLD HAG! BE NICE OR I AIN'T BRINGING THEM HERE NO MORE."

masaru, who's just sitting there at the couch like nothing's happening, gives you a wave.

the dinner was good. his mom's a great cook, his father's a chatterbox. what surprised you the most was how quiet katsuki is. you're not sure why. maybe he's like this at home? quiet, calm, just serene.

"it's not everyday i see a person who can tame my brat of a son. i can see why he likes you, (y/n)." his mom beams at you, "you're pretty, a kind little one too. take care of my son, will ya?"

not knowing what to say, you smiled at her and said what's currently inside your mind, "if he'll let me, i'll take care of him for the rest of my life." you looked down, "but knowing katsuki, he doesn't need anyone to take care of him. he's strong and independent and he knows it. it'll hurt his pride if someone helps him without him asking them to." you smiled to yourself, "i just hope he knows that when he needs me, i'll always be here for him."

mitsuki smiled at you in awe. you have the mother's approval, congrats!

katsuki just stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, masaru pats his back, "good job, son. i'm happy for you."

he then murmured a protest before drinking his water.

time passed by and it's eventually your time to say goodbye to the bakugos.

mitsuki hugs you for the last time and ask you to come have dinner with them again, masaru pats your head and thanks you for being there for his son.

both of you were in a car provided by the school for safety protocols when he spoke, "did you mean it?"

you looked at him, confused, "mean what?" "what you said earlier to my mom, shithead. did you mean it?" "well, yeah. i mean it when i say i'll always be here for you."

he wore this unreadable and unclear expression on his face. he looks mad? confused? no one knows.

"why?" he asked, "why what?" "WHY DO YOU KEEP MAKING ME REPEAT MYSELF. WHY DID YOU SAY IT?" "YOU'RE A FRIEND OF MINE, THAT'S IT."

he chuckled bitterly, "a friend. that's fucking funny. i literally though you also like me for a second."

huh.. what does he mean? also? you laughed nervously, "hey, did i hear you right? thought i heard 'also' there."

"you're fucking dense, aren't you? do you want me to scream it straight at your face? i fucking like you."

you froze. yes, but embarrassment caught up and you covered your reddened face, "WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY CONFESSING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SAY?"

"I AIN'T EXPECTING YOU TO SAY ANYTHING, SHITHEAD!" "I LIKE YOU TOO!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY OF A CONFESSION." "IT'S NOT A PITY OF A CONFESSION BUT FINE! I DON'T LIKE YOU." "OKAY THEN. I'M BRINGING SOMEONE ELSE NEXT DINNER AND TELL THE OLD HAG WE BROKE UP." "NOOOOOOO!!"

ㅡ todoroki

i was contemplating whether to have him help fake date or have him need help. it's fitting if he's the one in need so i decided just that.

he might seem dense and clueless most of the time but he's the epitome of evilness.

he talks about you all the time that's why fuyumi has taken a liking to you and asked shoto to invite you to dinner with them.

shoto sees this as a chance. he'll take advantage of the situation because he knows you won't say no.

he goes to where you are sitting, "i apologize but my sister, fuyumi, she thinks we're dating. she wants to invite you to dinner at our house later." he said that with a straight face but this mf is smirking on the inside.

"uhhh, okay? sure? but uhm, why would she think we're dating?" "she thinks everyone close to me is dating me. she's like that.. yes. fuyumi likes you the most, i think. that's.. uh, that's why she's inviting you to dinner." (I HC HIM AS A BAD LIAR)

sounds suspicious and weird, but okay? you have a lot of question in mind.

"i would go. but how should i act? why didn't you tell her we aren't dating though?" "i don't want to disappoint my sister. you can act like you're dating me, if it's fine with you. just for a day."

"sure, sure! just tell me where and what time. i'll be there." "no, you can come with me. we'll go there together."

he brings you to the todoroki household after class. their house is soooo pretty. it's a traditional japanese house.

fuyumi was the first one to greet you, with her sparkling eyes and bright smile, she held both your hands gently and said, "i'm so glad you came! i've been wanting to ask shoto to have you come eat with us. thank you for coming!"

natsuo jogged from the back and gave you a cool wave, "hey, (y/n). how was it dealing with shoto?"

you faked sighed, "awful. how did you deal with him for the last 16 years?" "we never did." "oh.... OH NO I'M SORRY!" "HAHAHA. it's fine, i'm just kidding. no biggie."

enji won't be home for the day. he's busy doing number 1 hero works.

the dinner was fun. it was the funniest dinner you have ever had.

shoto's quietness is the exact opposite of natsuo's talkativeness. that man is talkative and funny as fuck. throwing jokes everywhere. it was entertaining.

all shoto did was take care of you. he serves you all the food you point at, gets you water, he even went too close for comfort and wiped a stain just above your lips. it made you blush, yes. you don't know why but it left you lightheaded. (you're in love with him, that's why)

fuyumi.. our beautiful and beloved fuyumi.

she exposed his brother's ass.

"aww. you guys are so cute together. ah! (y/n), do you remember that time when.. uhm, kaminari was it? i forgot his name but do you remember that time where he told you, midoriya, and the girls to wear a maid costume for the festival because your class is having a maid cafe booth? shoto told me you were so pretty that time! he hated how the boys in your class looked at you like you were some sweet treat, isn't that right, shoto?"

"and do you remember when you fought bakugo at the sports festival? where it was a close fight and you gave him a hard time? shoto said you won if the decision was up to him and that you were so cool!"

and she went on and on.

shoto was red as a tomato (or even redder) beside you. he was clutching his pants as if he was asking the floor to just eat him up.

you decided to ask him about this later to not uncover the fake dating plan.

dinner ended after a little talking, fuyumi gave you leftovers to take home which you will not reject because her cooking is divine, and asked you to come again after giving you a big and warm hug.

natsuo gave you a high five and thanked you for coming. he also thanked you for laughing at his jokes. he feels like he's very funny now.

both said goodbye to shoto.

the journey back to the heights was quiet but not awkward. it seems like shoto knew you have a lot in mind.

you spoke when he's about to open the main door. "what was that?" he looked at you with a confused expression, "the one at dinner."

"ah, if it isn't obvious yet after my sister opened her mouth, i like you. i have been for a long time now." he said that with a deadpan expression, "it annoyed me at first, it annoyed me that you're in my mind whenever i try to sleep, you're in my mind everytime i wake up. it annoyed me that i want nothing more than to hold you near me, hold your hands, warm you up with my fire everytime you feel cold, hug you, kiss you." he sighed frustratedly, "i just want to do everything with you... i'm sorry. i'm not good with words."

WELL YOU DID NOT EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS STRAIGHTFORWARD.

but again, this is todoroki shoto.

"..what? shoto... i didn't know you felt that way. why didn't you tell me?" you asked him concernedly, you lifted your hand to hold his face but stopped halfway thinking maybe he doesn't want to be touched.

but then he held your hand and guided it to hold his face, "i didn't actually plan to confess but when people started talking about how good of a hero you'd become in the future and when everyone started saying they all want to date you, that's when i decided it's now or never." he looked at your eyes, "i don't want to lose this chance. that's why i started telling fuyumi stories about you and asking her what to do."

"is that why your sister thought we were dating?" "yes. she knows about how i feel for you. she told me to confess and i told her i did and that it went well. i lied to her. i don't know why."

you coughed, "so, she doesn't really think everyone close to you is dating you?" "yes." "you lied to me?" "yes, i apologize."

"you could have told me you like me too!?" "it's not that easy to confess. plus, i really wanted to know how everything will go. it went well, i'm satisfied. you like me too, right?" "i do, shoto. i like you so much." he smiled at you, that rare fucking smile he knows is pretty, "that's enough for me."

"BUT YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF EVERYTHING?" "yes. yes, i did." "WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU!!?" "date me, (y/n)" "OKAY!"

ㅡ midoriya

a lot of guys from the other class have been bothering you. they kept on asking for your number and stuff. one even sent you flowers and a box of chocolates.

you appreciate it if you're being honest. what you don't appreciate is them sticking to you the whole lunch.

you told mina what's happening and she told you that the best shot of getting off those admirers of yours is to date somebody.

you don't wanna to that though. aside from focusing on studies, you have feelings for this certain someone with green messy hair and freckles. you don't want to date someone just to use them and lie to them.

"you know, what if you just get your shit together and confess to midoriya?" "MINA, BE QUIET! SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU!" "confess to midoriya!" she whispired.

"or just ask him to date you until your followers stop following you around?" kaminari interjects, "what, you mean like, fake date him?" "yeah. something like that." "you're really useful sometimes, aren't you?" "shut up, mina."

you've thought about it all night. would izuku think i'm using him? would he reject the idea? would he be mad about it?

after contemplating, you finally went out of your room and walked straight at his door. he opened it with a smile after 3 knocks.

"hey, (y/n)! how can i help you?"

you looked at him nervously. what you were about to ask is a big part to act. "i will get straight to the point. some people from the other classes have been bothering me for a while now. they keep on following me and asking for my number even though i rejected them all the time. i want to ask you if you could date me? IT'S FAKE! OF COURSE. will you please fake date me until they get off me? i, uh, i'm not taking advantage of your kindness. i promise. right?" you said with a shaking voice.

he laughed at your rambling, "no need to be nervous, (y/n)! i would love to do the honors and fake date you! it's like an undercover hero mission. it's so cool! when do we start?"

you smiled at his enthusiasms. izuku is really the kindest person here on earth. you told him what to do, who those people are, etc. your fake dating starts tomorrow.

izuku was waiting outside your door when you opened it, he has his usual beaming smile when you saw him, "hi, (y/n)! ready to start our mission?" he's surely so into this whole thing.

you both walked down the lounge area holding each other's hand. everyone was gaping at the sight except todoroki who remained munching on his sandwich and bakugo who, well, "fucking finally you idiots." he said.

izuku let go of your hand and held both his hands up while shaking his head in a panicky manner, "no, no! we're just fake dating. i'm helping (y/n) get rid of their admirers! they said it was bothering them!"

"okay. but (y/n), why deku?" the motherfucker was smirking at you. todoroki, bless him, caught the panic in your eyes and called bakugo off. "that's enough, bakugo. leave them alone." "tsk! fucking icyhot a fucking killjoy."

most of your admirers stopped following you after they saw you holding hands with izuku. he's been doing a lot for you. he tried to tie your hair at training and brought you water. nothing much happened inside the classroom because everyone knows it's just a show. lots of outsiders believe you're dating izuku. some still bothers you from time to time especially at lunch.

you were sitting with bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, and of course, izuku, when a group of 3 went to your table (they're brave. no one would come bother bakugo's table because everyone's terrified of him.)

"hey, (y/n). can you give me your number now? i just wanted to get to know you better." "(y/n) give me your number! i'll send you lots of chocolates. i promise!" "they're liars but i'm not. i'd take you to your favorite movie this sunday of you'll give me your number?"

you pursed your lips in an annoyed manner, your friends are here and they're embarrassing you. you were about to speak when izuku beats you to it, "please stop bothering (y/n). it's obvious that my partner doesn't want to give you their number."

the group stared at each other with bewildered expressions on their faces, one looked at izuki and asked, "partner? you mean, combat partner or boyfriend? (y/n)'s dating someone?"

izuku wore a prideful expression on his face, "yes, i am their boyfriend and they're dating someone. that's why with all due respect, please leave them alone."

the 3 backed out and apologized. not everyone has the same personality as mineta. the person who seemed like their leader walked forward and bowed, "we're so sorry. we should've stopped when they rejected us the first time. they're just so intriguing that's why we wanted to know more about them. we're really sorry." with that, they left.

you faced izuku and thanked him. it was nice to finally walk and look around without seeing unfamiliar faces follow you. "thank you so much, izuku! you saved me. really."

he smilled at you, "it's nothing! i'd do anything for (y/n)." izuku froze at what he said and started chuckling anxiously, "i.. i didn't mean it like that! hahaha! but if you need anything, i, uhm, i'd always be glad to help." you stared at him and said, "me too, izuku. i'd always be glad to help you! you can come to me everytime you need something." he blushed at what you said.

"FUCKING IDIOTS JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY! I'M TIRED OF HEARING BOTH YOUR SHIT! CONFESS TO EACH OTHER GODDAMNIT!" "oi bakugo. that's not how to do it." "SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR!" "bakugo, you're too noisy." "YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD I'M TIRED OF YOU TOO!"

izuku coughed tensely, "(y/n), can i talk to you outside? i just need to tell you something." you nodded, "of course!" you both stood up and left the table of wild animals.

when the two of you got outside, izuku's hands were obviously shaking so without a thought, you held it. "are you okay?" "I AM... i am." "why are you acting like this? did something happen?" you asked worriedly.

"no, everything's fine. i just.. i don't know how it started but i just woke up one day thinking how i'd love you to be mine. i want to walk you to school, i want to tell everyone i'm your boyfriend, i want to kiss you good night. haha, is it to much to ask, (y/n)? i like you a lot." he told you that nervously, the boy was shaking and sweating.

"i can't believe it... izuku, i like you too. oh god, are you serious?" "i am, haha! i didn't know you feel the same. i'm really happy!" "i didn't know you feel the same too! half of our classmates knew that i like you. katsuki's just too noisy. he literally told everyone when you did extra training." "(y/n).. kacchan also knows about my feelings for you! he told todoroki and kirishima. is that why he's so persistent in getting us together?" "i don't know. that's just how he is."

you both were awkward as fuck but izuku asked if you'd like to date for real and you said yes.

when you came back to the table, it was bakugo who spoke first, "are you idiots finally together?" you replied to him with a middle finger which aggravated the blondie, "YOU FUCKER!"

545 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

car ride, m | kth, jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader x jungkook

summary: You really know how to make a car ride, er... eventful. Maybe too eventful for Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. They try to punish you, but who are we kidding? The three of you are too busy being horny as fuck. Oh well.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, (slight) exhibitionism; intense smut (fem reader, fingering, lil cock slapping, threesome, m-receiving oral, f and m-masturbation, double penetration/spit-roasting, cum eating; also you get covered in cum, yay!); fluff; non-idol!AU; noona!reader and you’re all nymphos, welp

Technically a continuation of just kidding and ii, but can be read alone.

–

Kim Taehyung said it first.

“She’s actually insane.”

Jeon Jungkook nodded tightly; jaw clenched as he tried not to stare at you through the rearview mirror.

Thirty minutes ago, you had called Taehyung, tone casual and light.

“Hey, could you pick me up? I think I missed the last bus.”

“Hm, sure.”

“Bring Jungkook with you, please.”

And then you hung up.

Taehyung had stared at his phone, frowning. Then he went to go collect Jungkook, who was in the middle of editing a music video. He edited videos for indie bands in his spare time, kind of for fun, kind of as a passion project. He did want to be a director or video editor, after all.

“Oi, our horny little seductress called.”

Jungkook had snapped his head far too quickly, long black hair cascading against his cheek, eyes glittering with interest. Too much interest. Taehyung would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little annoyed.

“Asked you to come, so you’re driving.”

Jungkook had grinned.

“Okay.”

Except it was not okay. Very not okay.

“You can sit in the front, Tae. I need space for my bag.”

So now the three of you were sitting in Jungkook’s car, Jungkook driving, Taehyung riding shotgun as you sat in the backseat. From this position, you could see Jungkook’s black sweater and Taehyung’s camel coat. You were wearing an oversized black parka with a nine-pointed star embordered on the chest, your black leather skull-shaped purse chilling beside you. Knee-high black leather boots.

Bare legs.

That should have been their first warning sign.

“What were you doing?” Taehyung had asked as you climbed in. Jungkook started the car, pulling out of the parking garage, into the night.

“Doctor’s appointment for my wrist.” You sighed, tapping your right arm. “Just a check-up.” You pulled down the sleeve of your large parka, showing the wrist brace. “I should at least sleep with it.”

Taehyung scratched his head. “Damn, I didn’t realize your carpal tunnel was that bad.”

You waved your hand. “It’ll be fine. I’m exercising it.”

“Where to?” Jungkook chirped, stopping at a red light.

Pop.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, narrowing. His face was lit with red from the cars in front of him. Taehyung turned around sharply. You smiled, feeling the cold air on your bare collarbones. Pop, pop, pop. The silver buttons of your parka snapped apart, revealing skin. Bare skin, the gentle curve of your breasts and cleavage. Taehyung’s dark eyes widened, as you pushed the sides apart, your naked breasts bouncing as the light turned green.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

A car honked very loudly behind Jungkook and he was forced to press on the accelerator as Taehyung exploded, his deep voice booming as he gawked at your tits.

“Are you insane?” Taehyung shouted.

You grinned, cupping your breasts and squeezing your nipples between two fingers, mouth open, tongue tracing your teeth from side to side.

Taehyung snapped back forward, searching for police.

“She’s actually insane.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw so tight that he couldn’t say anything, trying to focus on driving and only driving, and not the sound of you moaning as you played with your breasts, pressing them together and flicking your nipples.

“Do you want us to get arrested?” Taehyung hissed, sneaking glances at you in the darkness while simultaneously darting his eyes around for literally anyone who might be able to witness your sinful lunacy.

“Taehyung, she went to the doctor like that,” Jungkook gritted out.

That thought apparently hadn’t crossed Taehyung’s mind. He whipped his head around again, eyes so wide that you paused your heinous display of lust for a second, afraid they were going to fall out of his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he roared.

You grinned, holding your hands up. “I didn’t have to take my coat off, if that makes you feel better,” you said cheerfully.

Taehyung did not look like he felt better. In fact, he looked like he was going to pass out. He lifted his head to stare at the sky, mouthing silent words, running a large hand through his dark brown hair and messing it up. Your mouth watered, seeing that hand, knowing what it could do. Jungkook’s knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

“So, where are we go–?” you began, far too cheerfully for the two men in front of you.

Jungkook cut you off tightly. “Ours. You are going to our place. Now.”

“Ah,” you exhaled, smiling. “That’s good.” You nuzzled back into your seat, tits still out, nipples hard from the cold air. “That’s very good.” You spread your legs, hands clutching both sides of your black parka.

Pop, pop, pop, pop.

Jungkook nearly veered off the road.

“WHAT THE HELL?”

Taehyung was going to get whiplash with how hard he kept jerking his head back and forth. “Where the fuck are your panties?”

You placed a finger to your lips, smirking. “Oh no, I think I lost them.”

Maybe it was time to pray because Jungkook was trying very hard not to fucking die, his eyes shooting from the road, to the rearview mirror, to the road, to the mirror, veins popping in his forehead, his black hair covering his left eye. You pushed the shoulders of your parka down, spreading it open, inserting your finger into your mouth.

“Noona, don’t you fucking dare…” Jungkook warned.

But you did dare, swirling your tongue around your finger, softly moaning his name, Taehyung slack-jawed as your lashes lowered. You ground your hips into the seat, pussy already glistening as you popped your fingertip out of your mouth, making Jungkook hiss, sliding your hand down your neck, between your breasts, all the way down, down, pressing your wet finger against your clit.

Taehyung’s voice went low, dangerous.

“Are you a bad, bad girl, noona?” he growled.

You bit your lip, pressing down on your bundle of nerves, gasping. “I’m a good girl sometimes… But it’s so hard...” You rubbed your clit slowly, pushing your head back into the headrest, locking eyes with Taehyung, rocking your hips into your hand. “It’s so hard when I want to be naughty for you, Tae…”

His beautiful lips curved into a wicked smile, voice so low it was tearing through you, burning you with arousal. “Yeah? Just for me?”

You cried out softly, adding more pressure. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, to Jungkook’s panicked, blown-out pupils.

“No… For Jungkook, t-too…”

“Fucking shit,” Jungkook breathed, trying to drive slow and steady so he wouldn’t die while having the biggest hard-on of his life.

Taehyung yanked the lever of the passenger’s seat, pushing down the back to get closer to you. Jungkook slammed his palm against the wheel, snarling at him, but Taehyung completely ignored his outburst, sliding up the seat. You licked your lips and rubbed yourself faster, tipping your hips in his direction.

“Fuck,” Taehyung breathed, eyes roaming over your form. “You’re so fucking hot, noona.”

“Tae…” you whined, angling yourself to him.

“You want me to touch you, noona?” Taehyung purred; eyes even darker from the low light. He lifted his hand, flexing his long fingers. “You want me to touch that naughty pussy of yours?”

You whimpered, stroking your clit, chasing your orgasm, your dripping wet hole opening and closing, begging for his fingers. He dragged himself closer, fingertips dancing on your thigh. So hot, so close, fuck, you wanted him, Taehyung and his hungry eyes.

“I want to tell you no,” he whispered, gravelly and deep. “Shit, I want to tell you no and make you get yourself off, but you’re so fucking sexy, I just have to touch that dirty little pussy.”

And then he shoved two fingers into you, making you throw your head back and moan, long and wanton, Jungkook’s frustrated cries coming from the front seat as Taehyung’s fingers squelched into you, hard and fast and rough, not letting you get used to him, but you didn’t care, didn’t give a single fuck as you fucked your hips into his fingers. Gasping his name, rutting into his hand.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Taehyung demanded. “Be a good girl and tell me when you’re close.”

You nodded tightly, feeling the car slow as Jungkook pulled into the neighborhoods, nearing your orgasm, rubbing yourself fast as Taehyung thrust his fingers into you, your head pressing against the glass window. You panted, hip rising to meet him.

“A-ah, Taehyung, your fingers feel so good, so good, so fucking good,” you gasped. “Gonna cum, gonna cum just for you, Tae, all over your hand...”

Taehyung’s eyebrow rose, a smirk on his lips as he pumped his fingers into you, watching you come undone, seeing you hit the peak. Voice low, sexy, and authoritative.

“Oh, you wish.”

And then he ripped his fingers out of you as you screamed, your juices spilling out, pussy empty and clenching, orgasm hit, but wildly unsatisfying as Taehyung lifted himself up, grinning over you, fingers slick as he slid them into his mouth, licking them off. Your cum slid all over your thighs, dripping down, falling onto the carpet of Jungkook’s car.

“T-Taehyung!” you panted indignantly, sitting up sharply. “How could you!”

He cocked his head as the car stopped. Jungkook tore himself out of the seat, practically blasting his car door open to rip open your door, snatching you from the backseat. He slammed your nakedness against his black sweater and jeans, his hard body flexed against yours. You gasped at the sudden force, skin tingling with stimulation, the aftershocks of your orgasm still trembling through you.

“Noona,” he growled into your face, bringing his dark eyes to yours. “We have to teach you a lesson.”

Somehow, the three of you made it into the apartment without you flashing the entire complex.

Nice.

Getting you out of your clothes was easy. You were barely wearing any after all.

Taehyung shoved you against the hallway wall, tearing off his camel coat. You grabbed his white shirt and kissed him, hard, his musky cologne filling your nose. He whispered your name against your lips, grating and dangerous, smiling as you kissed him hungrily. You changed your positions, still kissing him, pushing him into the wall as Jungkook came up behind you, rolling his hard body into your back, sandwiching your nakedness between their clothed bodies. Jungkook grabbed your head and yanked your hair back, breaking your kiss with Taehyung to crash his lips into yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth and fucking it roughly, making you whimper.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Taehyung growled, grabbing your thighs and hoisting them up to hook them around his waist. You leaned against Jungkook’s chest, holding your upper body up Taehyung licked up your breasts, latching his lips to your nipple. You whined in Jungkook’s mouth, hands coming up to grab the black fabric of his sweater, back arching. Taehyung’s large hands found your ass, smacking it once before gripping it tightly.

“You’re so naughty,” Jungkook murmured against your lips, right hand snaking around your waist, in between your legs. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at him, but Jungkook was focused on you and only you, your panting mouth as Taehyung sucked on your nipples, switching between them. “Dirty girl, walking around the city without underwear,” Jungkook purred, watching you gasp as he slid his fingers in between Taeyang’s clothed stomach and your dripping pussy. “Were you thinking about us all day, desperate for our cocks to fill you up?”

Your arms encircled Jungkook’s neck as you moaned, head against his broad shoulder as he began to rub your clit.

“Y-yes…”

Jungkook’s breath so hot against your neck as Taehyung spread your nipples with his tongue. You rocked your hips into his stomach, so wet Taehyung’s white t-shirt squelched against his skin, Jungkook’s fingers rubbing you hard and fast, racing you to your orgasm.

“You’re such a bad girl, noona. What are we going to do with you? Should we give you cock?” Jungkook snarled, so low and dangerous that you shivered, crying out Taehyung’s name as he nipped at your nipple, sending shocks of pain through you.

“P-please…” you panted, eyes rolling back as Jungkook pinched your clit, your hips grinding into Taehyung’s shirt. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…”

Taehyung removed his mouth sharply and you whined, nipples dripping with his saliva.

“You think you deserve cock, noona?” Taehyung barked, spanking your ass hard as he spoke, punctuating his words with slaps. “You’ve been such a bad, bad girl. Should we even let you finish?”

You were nearly sobbing now, knowing you were so close, so close, breath hitching as Jungkook violently stroked you to orgasm.

“P-please… Please, Taehyung, let me cum, please, I need to cum so bad, please…”

Taehyung smirked, locking eyes with Jungkook.

“Aw, too bad I’m not the one pleasuring you.”

And then Jungkook tore his hand from you, making you wail, orgasm met, but wholly unsatisfying as you leaked all over Taehyung’s stomach, legs shaking, almost slipping if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s strong arms catching you. You clenched Jungkook’s sweater, yanking hard.

“You guys are so fucking mean!”

Taehyung chuckled as your legs slid down, down, gently placing you on the floor. He looked down at his white t-shirt and shook his head.

“You made a mess.”

You glared at him and then at Jungkook, who gave you an arrogant smirk.

“Sorry, noona. You nearly killed us all with your antics, after all.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t fun?” you countered.

Jungkook’s smirk grew. “It’s fun punishing you too.”

You narrowed your eyes, but quickly became distracted with Taehyung stepping away from the wall, pointing to the door at the end of the hall.

“Go.” A command.

That wasn’t Taehyung’s room. You tilted your head. You’d never been in Jungkook’s room before.

“Now.”

Your eyes shifted to Jungkook and he cocked his chin in the same direction. You frowned but went, legs still unsteady. Jungkook began to walk after you, but Taehyung grabbed his forearm, stopping him.

“Jungkook.”

The younger man turned his head to look at him. Taehyung’s expression was very stern, almost cold.

“There can be no one else,” he said quietly. “I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

Jungkook blinked. He had never seen Taehyung so serious over a woman. Sure, Taehyung dated and fucked around, but he let things go quite easily most of the time. Jungkook placed a hand over his, staring straight into Taehyung’s eyes.

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s grip tightened, eyes hardening.

Jungkook smiled, lowering his hand.

“Trust me, hyung, she’s more than enough for me. I don’t need anyone else.”

After a long moment, Taehyung let him go, turning away to go to his room. Jungkook looked after him, rubbing his arm. He turned away, gazing at his now open door. A weird feeling overcame him, a strange push and pull, before he brushed it aside and walked to his bedroom. Jungkook stopped at the doorframe.

And was greeted by the sight of you sprawled out in his gaming chair, holding one of his t-shirts against your chest, inhaling deeply as your eyes closed, right hand between your legs. Your wrist brace was making it difficult to go fast, so instead you stroked your clit slowly, breathing in the scent of his residual cologne that clung to his clothes, paying little attention to the fact that Jungkook was now watching you, amused.

"You really are a horny little seductress, aren't you?'

You grinned hearing his deep voice, eyes still closed. You rubbed the fabric against your nipples, moaning at the sensation.

“How often do you sit here, jacking off while thinking about me?” you wondered out loud.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, making you open your eyes.

“Too often.”

You licked your lips, purring his name enticingly. His lips curved into a lazy smirk.

Ah.

Jungkook was just so very, very sexy and he knew it.

Your eyes admired him for a moment. The right side of his hair pinned back, revealing his undercut. Long dark locks obscuring the left side of his face, hiding his angular cheekbone, framing his chiseled jaw and mischievous eyes. He stepped into the room, reaching down and crossing his arms, pulling his sweater up and over his head. You sucked in a breath. His toned torso, lean and tan. His right arm, covered in tattoos, flexing as he pulled the clothing over his head, mussing up his hair. It curled a bit around his forehead. Fuck, both his arms, shapely and strong, deliberately tensing them to make you gasp. Jungkook raised his right hand, tiny tattoos flashing as he beckoned you to him.

“Come here.”

You stood up from his chair slowly, his t-shirt sliding down your body and onto the floor. Light, careful steps as he circled the bed, putting it between you and him. You crawled onto the bed on all fours, hands digging into his slate gray sheets as he stepped to the very edge of the bed, undoing the button of his black jeans, zipping it down as you approached him, nearly moaning when you pushed them past his hips, pressing your face into his black underwear, breathing hotly against his erection. Your eyes traveled back up to him, tongue sliding out and pressing wetly against his clothed cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You grinned as he pushed his underwear down, his cock springing up to smear pre-cum against your cheek, already dripping from lack of stimulation. You went from base to tip, swirling your tongue all over, watching Jungkook’s head fall back as you took him in your mouth, so wet, so hot, so tight. Took it all the way down, feeling him swell in your mouth deliciously, his strong hand gripping the back of your head, keeping you there.

“Ah, such nice lips…” he purred, releasing your head so you could bob up and down, slowly. “That’s it, noona, just like that.”

You did, keeping a measured but deep pace, sucking in your cheeks. He hissed at the added stimulation, rocking his hips into your face. Jungkook looked back down, seeing you observing him, crouching on your hands and knees, your ass up in the air.

“Look at you, noona,” he murmured, reaching down to tweak your nipple. “So good at swallowing cock, so good at taking it all.”

You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together. Jungkook took both your nipples and pulled, making you groan around his cock. He thrust his hips into your mouth and you almost choked, hands suddenly coming up to grab his thighs. He shushed you, rubbing your nipples soothingly as he pulled out of your mouth, cock slapping your chin wetly.

“On your back. Show me that pretty pussy of yours.”

You scooted back, spreading your legs. Jungkook went to his desk, opening a drawer, watching you as you gripped each side of your thighs, spreading them further, your glistening slit out in the open. You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing, making him suck a tight breath as he rolled the condom on.

“Fuck, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He climbed onto the bed, trailing his eyes up to your face and your half-lidded eyes, mouth open, panting his name.

“J-Jungkook, please…”

He smiled. “What is it, noona? What do you want?”

You wiggled your hips into his bed. “Your cock, please, Jungkook, I need it…”

He smacked his length against your clit, earning a sharp gasp. You pushed your head back into his sheets, whining as Jungkook slapped your swollen clit repeatedly with his cock, hard and fast, smearing it with lubrication from the condom. He was so hard that it almost hurt if it wasn’t for the lube.

“Is this enough for you?” Jungkook taunted. “Or does my naughty girl want more?”

“I-inside, please, a-ah, Jungkook, it’s t-too sensitive.…”

He stopped for only a split second before thrusting himself inside you, hissing as you sucked him in, previous stimulations already readying you for him. You rolled your hips, arching your back and gasping his name as Jungkook began, long, deep strokes that made you clench and shudder, aching for more. But before you could say anything, a familiar weight landed on the bed near your head.

Your eyes widened seeing Taehyung’s naked body, strong and handsome, tan skin glowing. His stoic, almost arrogant expression burned into your memory as he hovered over you, stroking his cock leisurely. He pressed it against your cheek, the warm, velvety head smearing pre-cum against your cheek. You tried to turn, but he used his free hand to hold your head still, shutting his eyes as he enjoyed himself.

“Fuck, even your cheek is so soft…” he murmured.

You whined but he shushed you, pressing a finger to your lips as he stroked himself faster, harder, Jungkook deep strokes sliding you up and down the bed. He used your face to stimulate the head, your lips, your cheeks, rocking his hips, smacking you in your face with his balls. Over and over as Jungkook thrust into you, watching your wanton expression as Taehyung’s pre-cum coated your skin. You could hear Taehyung’s breathing becoming shallow, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes.

“Gonna cum on your pretty tits, noona,” Taehyung murmured. “All over your tits, and then I’m going to fuck your mouth.”

You whimpered, watching his shoulders tense as he raised himself over you, Jungkook still fucking you agonizingly slowly, his thick cock stretching you out as Taehyung sucked in a breath, hissing your name tightly. You could only watch, breathless, as white strings squirted out, smacking you hotly in the chest with his thick cum, shuddering as you felt it spread out like fucking cake icing on your nipples and breasts. Jungkook moaned, watching the cum drip downwards, all over your skin.

“Open up,” Taehyung commanded and you opened your mouth. He slid in, readjusting himself so that he was above your head, legs on either side of you, facing Jungkook. He filled your mouth, almost too much even though he just orgasmed. You had to push your head up so he sank deeper into your throat, sticky from Taehyung’s cum soaking into your chest.

Oh, fuuuuck.

Stuffed from front to back, tits covered in cum, neck and back arched uncomfortably to accommodate the two cocks spearing into you, pussy throbbing and orgasming at the thought alone. And feeling it, oh God, feeling so full, so dirty, so used by both Taehyung and Jungkook at the same time made your eyes roll back into your head, tightening the muscles of both holes, muffled moans as you heard Jungkook grunt with effort and Taehyung’s hiss of pleasure. Taehyung controlled the pace as he fucked your face, carefully thrusting into your throat, staring at Jungkook’s dark hair bouncing as he fucked you.

Jungkook seemed to feel his gaze. He looked up.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow at him.

Then he grabbed Jungkook’s head and forced it down, Jungkook’s eyes widening as he watched your cum-covered tits bounce back and forth, hard nipples swaying in the air. He rammed his hips into you and you whimpered, breasts bouncing harder so he fucked you even rougher, fascinated. Wet, lewd slapping sounds as he watched Taehyung’s cock disappear and reappear from your throat, covered in saliva, so messy that you were drooling down your chin, whining as you gripped his sheets. He felt liquid leaking down his thighs from your orgasms, your pussy clenching around him.

It was so much, so fucking much, Jungkook lifting your legs so he could go deeper, rubbing against your clit punishingly as Taehyung fucked your mouth, his tense thighs indicating that he was close. It made your entire body strain with effort and pleasure, head empty except chasing your orgasm over and over, smitten with the idea of being used like a fucktoy.

“S-so fucking good,” Taehyung groaned. “Such a good girl, taking so much cock all at once.”

“Fuck, I’m going to–”

But Jungkook didn’t get to finish because you wailed around Taehyung’s cock, pussy throbbing as you came, ripping his orgasm from him. He gasped sharply, slamming into you as his cock jerked into your walls, pulsing with you, gripping his entire length. So tight, but soft, his eyelids fluttering at the experience.

It only took Taehyung a few more pumps before he moaned your name, spilling down your throat, almost falling onto Jungkook as you sucked it out of him, swallowing greedily. He inhaled sharply as he snapped his head down to watch your throat constrict repeatedly, drinking it all and squeezing the head with your lips. Taehyung taped your side repeatedly, trying to get you to release him.

“Please, noona, too s-sensitive…”

You unlocked your jaw, gulping a huge vat of air as you realized you could breathe again. Taehyung pushed himself off you, falling against the wooden headboard as Jungkook carefully pulled out. You whined at the loss, back and neck aching. Every nerve hummed, brimming with pleasure, shaking you to your core.

It was glorious.

You panted, lowering your head to look down at Jungkook, dark eyes flashing as sweat from his angular jaw dripped onto your legs. He smirked at you, peeling the condom off and wrapping his hand around his still-hard, slick cock. Your breath caught in your throat as he began to furiously jack himself off, scooting on his knees to get closer to you, right in between your legs.

“J-Jungkook…”

The mole under his chin winked at you as he grinned. “Do you love it when you’re covered in cum, noona?” he panted, licking his lips. “Do you love it when Taehyung and I cum all over you?”

You moaned, your hands sliding up your breasts, smearing Taehyung’s drying cum even more, pinching your nipples as Jungkook gasped, pupils blown wide, eyes locked on your every move.

“Yes, Jungkook, I love it. I love being covered in your and Taehyung’s cum.”

He hissed, hips rocking into his hand as you made your lewd, obscene noises, body shaking as you waited for him. It didn’t take him very long before he groaned, towering over you as it shot out of him, showering you with creamy, salty strings of his orgasm. You dipped your fingers into it, scooping it into your mouth, sighing in satisfaction as Jungkook’s taste mixed with Taehyung’s in your throat, eating up as much a you could, and wiping the rest on your skin, relishing in the dirty act.

You were already prepared to do it again.

You heard Jungkook stumble off to the bathroom as you laid there, panting.

"Are you happy?" Taehyung asked, reaching down to pat your head.

You grinned, bending your head back to look up at him upside down. He seemed surprised at your energy but smiled as you licked your lips, eyes clouded with lust.

"So, so happy, Taehyungie."

He chuckled, dark eyes gazing into yours. You sensed a shift in his demeanor. For some reason, a calm, comforting feeling came over you when Taehyung looked at you. He bent down, his hands cupping your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. He whispered your name, low and secretive, sending a shiver down your spine. You stared into his neck, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. His breath against your lips, tickling them.

"I’ll give you whatever you want."

You blinked slowly, lips parting. Now his lips were even closer, touching yours.

"I'll do everything in my power to satisfy you."

And then Taehyung kissed you, intoxicating you with his touch, his scent, his intensity of his lips against yours, tongue thrusting into your mouth. You moaned, thighs rubbing together, clutching Jungkook's sheets, your body trembling as you kissed him. He held you protectively, fingertips pressing into your skin.

"Damn, do you two need a room?" came Jungkook's amused voice.

You broke the kiss softly, pecking Taehyung on the nose lightly before sliding down to Jungkook’s playful expression at the foot of the bed. He was holding a towel, raising at eyebrow at you. You sat up, grinning far too wide, making his smile falter a bit.

“Uh oh.”

“Come here, Jungkookie…”

“Please, we’re only men–gah!”

The next day, you dragged a seat next to Taehyung's gaming chair. He looked up as you sat down, still scrolling with his mouse.

"What's up?" he asked. His voice was smooth, even. He gave you a quizzical look as you laid your head against his shoulder. "You want to fuck again?" he added, smirking.

"No," you pouted, nestling your head on his shoulder. He was reading the new set of League of Legends patch notes. "Just want to be near you."

You saw the reflection of his smile in the computer monitor. He reached over and patted your head, making you hum in bliss. You two stayed like that for a moment, him scrolling periodically as he read, your head against his shoulder.

Jungkook popped in, wearing a leather jacket over his white hoodie and jeans. He waved a USB drive.

"Gotta drop this off. I'll be back," he said merrily to Taehyung before leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. You turned your head, meeting his lips, and snuck your tongue into his mouth.

Jungkook pulled back quickly, narrowing his eyes at you. "No. Bad girl."

You blinked innocently at him. "What'd I do?"

Jungkook glared at you, trying not to smile. "I have things to do. Let me kiss you normally."

Taehyung laughed deep from his chest, rumbling his shoulder you were leaning against. "Good luck with that."

Your smile widened. Smugly.

Too smugly.

Jungkook backed away, pointing a finger at you. He was smiling too now, playful and mirthful.

"Later, you horny little seductress."

He left, winking.

Taehyung patted your head again, his large hand massaging your scalp.

"You sure you don't want to fuck?" he teased.

continuation: christmas eve

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook x you #taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you

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mercy-burning · 4 years

Text

Make It Even

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reaer Summary: Part 2 to Out Of Commission (but can be read separately) - After about a month of recovering from an injury, Reader can finally have sex again, and Spencer has an idea. Category: Smut 18+ (female masturbation, use of a vibrator, dirty talk - degradation with mentions of fingering, hair pulling, and rough sex) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything that I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.3k

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLSIT

***

Being seriously hurt by a serial killer was definitely not fun in any capacity, but the whole thing had been a major learning experience.

For one thing, Y/N learned that she hated hospital checkups. Once a week she had to go, to make sure everything was healing properly. Having Spencer there to make sure everything was going smoothly was extra comforting, though it didn't make constant doctor visits any less tedious.

Secondly, she hated menstruation. Which was a natural, obvious disdain that she'd harbored since the ripe age of eleven, but while being severely injured like she'd been recently, it sucked extra. Not only did she have to deal with menstrual pain and having to be careful not to rip or irritate her stitches every time she cleaned up, but she was also extra horny with no outlet for it.

That one week was probably the worst of it. Spencer wanted to stay with her of course, to bring her the extra comfort, but it was less comforting and more torturous unfortunately. She insisted that he stay at his apartment or at least sleep on the couch, because she didn't know how many more cold showers she could take.

Finally, she learned that her ability to marathon movies was probably one of her strongest assets. Not only did she manage to watch every single Lord of the Rings, Twilight, Harry Potter, Star Wars, and Fast and the Furious movie, but she stayed awake and alert through every one. She tried getting Spencer to pay attention to Twilight, but he did fall asleep, though somehow managed to make it through every Fast and the Furious film. She'd make him re-watch them in time, but right now she was just glad that she could get up and move around like a normal person again.

Speaking of, she was currently waiting for her boyfriend to come back from the store. She'd wanted to go with, but he insisted on getting some surprises, so he went alone.

Y/N was cleaning up her kitchen when the door opened and Spencer walked in, struggling to carry more than four large grocery bags.

"Geez, what did you get? I thought we were just making a pizza..." Y/N laughed, running over to help him carry some of the bags. He handed her the lighter ones, still taking caution of her injuries, and she smiled fondly for it.

"I know," he said, slightly out of breath from the walk. "And I got stuff to make pizza, but there were some other things I wanted to get you."

She was about to open one of the bags to help unload everything, but he stopped her. "No! Don't look at anything. Surprises, remember?"

With a sigh and a small laugh, Y/N stepped away from the bags as Spencer set down the ones he was carrying. "Fine. Where do you want me?"

"Bedroom. I'll come in when I'm done." He walked to her and gave her a big, deep kiss before practically pushing her to the bedroom. "Won't take long, promise."

As she heard him unload the bags in the kitchen through the closed door, Y/N wondered what he could possibly have gotten. Knowing Spencer, it could have been about a million different things. Since they'd started dating, he was always so creative and thoughtful with his 'surprises', and each one had been different every time. And since he knew her so well, probably more than she knew herself, she was certain she was going to love it.

That being said, it was taking way longer than she thought it would.

"Hey, you said it wasn't going to take long!" she called out, crossing her legs and swinging them off the bed after closing Twitter from her phone and setting it on the nightstand. "You didn't get lost in there, did you?"

"No!" Spencer called back. "Almost done!"

She smiled to herself, tapping her fingers against her knees and tilting her head to the side in wait.

About a minute passed when she heard him at the door. "Okay, close your eyes!"

She rolled them affectionately before doing so. "They're closed!"

As she heard the door open, she couldn't help the smile that adorned her face, only growing wider when she felt Spencer pepper sweet kisses along her cheeks before she felt him kneel in front of her on the floor. He took her knees and spread them apart, and she raised her eyebrows, eyes still closed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting in position. Open your eyes."

By the amused tone in his voice alone, Y/N thought she had a pretty good idea of what she might find when she regained sight. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, she looked down and noticed Spencer kneeling on the floor, head tilted upward to look at her, his hands in his lap and his eyes searching hers with the most adoring gleam she'd ever seen.

She laughed, bringing her hands out to run through his hair. When they cradled his cheeks, he smiled, bringing his hands up from his lap and revealing... A vibrator. She'd never seen it before. He must have bought and sanitized it before coming in the room, which would be why it had taken so long.

"You.. You bought me a vibrator?"

"Mhm," he answered with the giddiest tone she'd ever heard from him. "I really appreciated what you did for me while you were... out of commission... a few weeks ago, so I wanted to return the favor. Kind of. I, uh... I have an idea..."

Y/N took the vibrator from him and turned it over in her hands as he explained himself.

"I know we could start having sex again, but I thought this would be a fun way to ease you into it, plus I get to make it even."

She looked down at him, amused with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk forming on her mouth. "You want to watch me fuck myself with a vibrator?"

Spencer nodded, placing his hands on her knees again. "And we don't even have to have sex afterwards if you don't want. I have extra clothes here, and I'm more than prepared to take a cold shower when you're done."

Laughing, she leaned down and kissed his forehead, right before leaning her own against it. "You're sure?"

"Mhm. Only if you want to, I mean, I thought it would be fun..."

Y/N pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, nodding. "It does sound fun. You gonna talk me through it?"

He nodded and leaned up on his knees a little to reach her lips, kissing her just as deeply as he had in the kitchen earlier. She kissed him back fervently, reveling in the feeling of his tongue against hers and the soft hums he let out whenever their lips slightly parted to kiss each other deeper.

Eventually she pushed his shoulders down and moved her head back, looking down at him with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth briefly before speaking. "Will you take my pants off for me, please?" she inquired sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

If she kept up this sweet act, this was going to be way harder for him than anticipated, and they both knew it. Regardless, he was more than happy to reach up and unbutton her jeans, looking up at her adoringly while he shimmied them down over her thighs and eventually her ankles.

The second he went back to his position on the floor, Y/N flipped the vibrator over in her hands. "What would you like me to do, baby?"

"Put your legs up on my shoulders?"

She draped her ankles over his shoulders and pulled him closer with them, a small smile forming as his eyes practically widened, being so close to her, where he hadn't been in so long. "Don't turn the vibrator on yet," he said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He turned his head a little and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her calf before he continued. "I want you to touch it to yourself, just lightly over your panties, okay?"

With a nod, Y/N leaned back on one arm and used the other to bring the toy to her clothed pussy, running it softly over herself as instructed. She sighed, biting her lip as she looked down at Spencer, who was mesmerized by her hand movements. She could feel herself getting visibly wetter as he watched, a soft whine escaping her throat before he looked up at her.

"You feeling it already, baby?" he murmured softly, bringing his arms up to wrap around the underside of her legs and resting his hands on the insides of her thighs. As his fingers drifted softly in lazy circles, she mimicked their movements with the vibrator on her clit, longing desperately for more friction.

"Please," she breathed, so lightly that she was unsure he'd even heard her, even as she looked him dead in the eye as she said it.

For a moment she thought about sliding the vibrator under the fabric anyway, taking the chance that he wouldn't do anything to chastise her for it. Thankfully it didn't have to go that far, because Spencer removed himself completely from her and stood up.

"Lay back against the headboard?" he asked more than demanded.

Y/N didn't even have to think, scooting back and into position. As she did so, he climbed on the bed himself and sat across from her, making himself as comfortable as he could be.

Probably because she was excited to start having sex again, but also because it was just fun to see her boyfriend's reactions to her boldness, she smirked a little, looking him straight in the eye as she slipped her panties off and threw them in his direction. They landed on his shoulder, and he didn't move them, his own giddy grin making an appearance. To give him more of a show, she ran her hands slowly up her legs, spreading them wider with each passing second until they were completely open, revealing everything to him.

The second Spencer's eyes glanced down, she started to move, using her middle finger to run through pussy. She continued this for almost a minute, her boyfriend completely focused on what she was doing, speechless, before almost jolting him with her words.

"You gonna help me out, Doc, or are you just gonna stare?"

He looked back up at her face, and she could see him visibly swallow, his enchantment with her completely endearing. Then he replied.

"God, you're beautiful..." The sweetness in his words, just barely laced with desire made her move a little faster, though not by much. He still seemed to notice, though, because he flashed a grin that disappeared as quickly as it came, right before shifting in his place and continuing with his words. "You have no idea how much I've missed seeing your pretty little pussy..."

She sighed, leaning her head back and circling her clit. She loved hearing him talk, about anything, really, but when he was like this? She couldn't get enough.

"So many nights this past month, it's taken so much out of me, resisting the urge to just sneak my hand up your shorts when we were in bed, watching movies together. To feel you squirm under my touch. I thought about how much I wanted to play with your pussy, sort of like you're doing now..."

Her fingers moved a little faster as she recalled a similar dream she'd had one of those nights. She'd been thinking about sex all day and ended up dreaming about just that—Spencer crawling over her and fingering her, bringing her to the edge over and over again until she finally woke up feeling sore. She'd been moving in her sleep, and it wasn't fun. At all.

But now she could move all she wanted. Listening to her boyfriend talk about doing to her exactly what she'd experienced and dreamed about many times before filled her with the most joy she'd felt in the longest month of her life.

So she reached for the vibrator that she'd set beside her, and replaced her fingers with it, opening her eyes to meet him. He watched her intently with his hands clenching the sheets beneath him. It made her smile, knowing he couldn't do anything about it, and that spurred her on. She hesitated to turn it on, wanting to wait until he started speaking again, maybe when he was in the middle of a sentence, to see if he'd pause or stumble over his words.

As she ran the toy along her clit, she tilted her head to the side and sighed. "Your fingers always feel so good inside me, baby," she said, slipping the vibrator lower and slowly plunging it inside of her. "They're so long and perfect. And you use them so well."

He exhaled, still completely entranced with everything she was saying and doing. Because just as long as she hadn't had any sexual stimulation, he hadn't seen her experience it either, and this was just as exhilarating for him as it was for her.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked softly, briefly meeting her eyes.

She laughed a little, giving him the most mischievous look before clicking the vibrator on and slowly moving it in and out of herself. "If you want to call it quits and just fuck me, all you have to do is say so... I don't mind, believe me..."

He genuinely looked like he was contemplating it before shaking his head softly, a hint of sadness flashing in his eyes. "No, I-I promised I'd make it even. I want to watch you."

With that sentiment, Y/N worked the vibrator a little faster, sighing out as she did so. "So... When you do finally fuck me, do you still want to take me from behind?"

"Mhm," Spencer sighed, shifting his position again. "You feel so good that way. So nice and tight. And it's even better when I have your hair in my fingers, hearing you moan for me while I tug on it."

As her one hand worked the vibrator inside and out of her, Y/N moved her other to circle her clit, both of them working together to build up the orgasm that was already starting to come to the surface. After all this time not having any sexual release, she knew this wouldn't take long, even if she tried to take it slow.

She moaned out softly like Spencer described, barely keeping her eyes open enough to see him grip the sheets tighter. His eyes were trained on her movements, barely blinking.

Since she was closer to orgasm than she'd been in months, she closed her eyes before speaking again, hoping that he'd continue talking and knowing that when he did it would finally give her the release she'd so desperately wanted to feel.

"Fuck, baby, yes... I love when you fuck me from behind and pull my hair. It makes me feel like such a bad girl..."

"Oh? So you'd rather I fuck you like a dirty whore than my girlfriend, is that it?"

Her words seemed to have flipped a switch in him, because every one of his was dripping with a deep seduction she'd only ever heard from him a few times. It sent a jolt of electricity through her body as her hands picked up speed, and she brought herself closer to the edge.

"Ohhh, yes," she sighed, her eyes squeezing shut harder as she felt that telltale tension in her lower stomach. She was going to cum any second now. "Please, baby, I want it so bad..."

He spoke loud and clear, knowing exactly what would get her there. "Aw, my poor little slut hasn't been fucked in so long she's desperate to be degraded? Is that what you want? You wanna be fucked so dumb you can't even think?"

Every sensation she was feeling right now really did send her into a state of speechlessness. It was truly magical the way Spencer knew how to control her like that. He knew every trick in the book, every single thing that would make her numb in the best ways possible, and it never got old. All she could manage were sharp breaths and the occasional whimper as she started to experience the first orgasm she'd had in just over a month.

All it took was one word. One demand. One forceful step on the gas pedal that sent her flying off the cliff and into the pool of pleasure below.

"Come."

With a long, drawn-out moan, Y/N held the vibrator as far inside her as she could take it, her other hand working her clit through one of the most blinding orgasms she'd ever experienced by herself. Her head stayed planted firmly against the headboard as her back arched and her toes curled, every muscle in her body tensing. Her vision went white, sparkling like tv static behind closed eyelids as she lit up with pleasure. God, she missed that feeling. Everything was so heavy and light at the same time, even as she came down, her back slumping against the headboard once again and her eyes fluttering open.

Spencer looked at her like she was the only thing he'd ever known, ever had the pleasure to see with his own two eyes.

Seeing how obvious it was that he was trying very hard not to do anything about his own arousal, Y/N clicked the vibrator off and slid it out of herself, smiling weakly at him and trying to catch her breath. "You want a taste?"

She'd never seen him move faster in her life. She laughed softly as he climbed over to her and brought the toy to his lips, looking her deep in the eyes as he took it in his mouth and sucked on it. The pure guttural groan that left his throat sent a chill down her spine, made even more profound when his hand came up to run his fingers through her pussy softly. She jolted forward at the contact, sending the vibrator further into his mouth, to which he groaned again and fluttered his eyes closed.

His fingers gathered more of her arousal as he pulled off the vibrator and opened his eyes again, sitting back just a little. He then brought his fingers away and to his lips, coating them in her arousal like lip balm. He sucked them off quickly before climbing forward and kissing her on the mouth.

Tasting herself on him was almost as intoxicating as the orgasm itself, Y/N leaning into him and bringing her hands up to comb through his hair after tossing the vibrator to the side. The two of them stayed like that for a long time, making out with each other before they eventually came up for air.

Spencer smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're fucking incredible, you know that?"

She laughed, brushing her nose against his. "You're the one who bought me a vibrator, And helped me get through this injury... I love you, you know."

He sighed into her, pressing another small, sweet kiss to her lips before shifting seemingly rather uncomfortably. "I love you, too. But as much as I love you, I really need to take that cold shower now."

"I'll get our pizza started while you do that," Y/N said with a laugh. "And then, maybe I can finally convince you to watch Twilight with me without falling asleep? At least the first movie?"

Spencer got off the bed and kissed the top of her head with the most doting smile. "Anything you want."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer read smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper - Part 13

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem! Reader Warnings: Talk of parent death Length: 2.1k words Notes: Okay bitches here we go. I’ve got 3 kids doing online schooling, a desk chair that just broke while I was halfway through typing this out, a raging headache, and couldn’t be fucked to edit. I love you al, thank you for sticking with me and this little brain baby of mine. My guidance counselor from high school can suck my dick, “You’re not a creative writer, Cher, you should considering taking Home Ec as an elective instead” I digress....

Series Masterlist

"No." You glared at him and squeezed his hand harder, "You're doing that thing again.

Frankie's head whipped over to stare at you, shocked by your assertive tone.

"You're pulling away. You're stressed, out of your depth, don't know how to deal with it and so you're pulling away again-"

"You don't understand," Frankie interrupted you, shaking his head and trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. This only served to strengthen your resolve, and your grip on him.

"No." You declare again, trying to stay calm and have a mature conversation despite the tension and running emotions. "You told me to give you time to get your thoughts straight and vocalized. I can't do that if I'm not here to hear them. I can't understand your predicament if I leave. So," You moved so you're sitting cross-legged in front of him, making eye contact in an effort to show him he had your full attention. "Why don't you tell me what that phone call was about so we can start figuring it out, together."

The situation was more complex than you ever could have imagined. Frankie's ex-wife, Karla, had died. Her car had been hit by a drunk driver. Annie, thank the gods, hadn't been in the car at the time. Before she'd died at the hospital, Karla had managed to say a few words to the paramedics. At the time they didn't make sense, however, the paramedic had taken the time to write the words down and included the scrap of paper with the patient's chart. This evidence, as it turned out, had been monumental during the resulting legal battle for Annie, all of which took place without Frankie even being notified.

Child services, lawyers, extended family, and even doctors had been involved in the court proceedings. All arguing over the future of the six-year-old girl. All believing that they knew what was best for her, most believing that she should live with them, some having the gall to pretend that they weren't aware of the sizable life insurance payout she was about to receive.

Eight words. Eight simple, beautiful words whispered through the broken, bloody lips of a woman who knew she was about to die. A young girl's future was being held in suspense, and as fate would have it, a wise and sentimental judge was overseeing her case. Eight words were all it took to convince him that Annie's mother knew what was best for her own child.

"Francisco Morales. Trust with her, he's ready now."

From the time Frankie had received the phone call from Karla's family lawyer, the two of you had two days to prepare for Annie's arrival. Frankie worked his magic and erected a wall across the bedroom portion of his loft, allowing for the little girl to have some privacy but not feel like she was being closed in.

He had fretted for a least twenty five minutes over colour swatches at Hank’s Hardware before coming to the conclusion that he should leave it white and have Annie chose her room colours once she had settled in. He bought himself a new couch, as well, that would convert into a bed and serve as his bedroom for the time being.

The conversation you never had a chance to have with him was still in the back of your mind, but you understood that moving in together as a couple was hard enough. Moving in together with a kid neither of you knew, whose life had just been turned upside down against her will, would be catastrophic. Instead, you focused on being as much of a rock for Frankie as you could.

You made a trip to the city and bought girls bedding, some stuffed animals, and a few little decorations to help Annie feel like the new space was special for her. You also thought to pick up comfort food that a kid might crave, knowing that when you were six the best way to your heart was chocolate. Just before you left the city, a sign caught your attention and had you swerving to change lanes, normally you'd feel slightly bad about your obnoxious driving but today you just waved your middle finger at the rear window in a mock salute.

The flower shop had so many bouquets and you had no idea what kind of flowers the little girl might like. You also had the morbid realization that bouquets might remind her of all the flowers she surely saw at Karla's funeral. Just as you began to second guess yourself, a stand near the back caught your eye and made you smile.

The day of her arrival came quicker than you felt prepared for, never mind how Frankie must be feeling. He hadn't had too much time to worry about how having his daughter would change his life, but once the two of you were standing in his driveway doing nothing but waiting, the nerves had finally settled in. You could see deep, calming breaths he was taking as they condensed into little clouds in the freezing air.

Grabbing his clenched fist, you felt his fingers relax enough to allow your gloved ones to slide through them.

"It's going to be weird for everyone, she's probably nervous too." You weren't sure if the words were reassuring or not but nervous talking seemed to be your forte so you ran with it. "I mean, she's probably sad that she's leaving everything and everyone she's always known, excited about moving to a new place, then feeling bad that she's feeling another emotion besides grief. It can be hard to juggle loss and hope. Just show her how much you love her and be honest about why you couldn't be with her before. Kids are smart and are aware of way more than adults give them credit for."

A few moments later a black sedan slowly crept up the driveway. You wanted to stay, to meet the little girl but had the feeling that Annie and Frankie were going to need time to figure out their relationship without another person in the mix. Suddenly having a new parent was going to be hard enough on the little girl, you were afraid that she might see you as trying to replace her mom and push you away.

Rubbing Frankie's back for one last show of reassurance, you kissed his shoulder then took a few steps back. You figured this was the best way to be there to support him but also staying in the background for the time being. Before the car could fully come to a stop, the rear door was flying open and, in a blur of movement, a little body was flying out of it towards Frankie. You know how people will say that there are times in their lives where important moments fly by so fast they barely have time to enjoy them? Well, this wasn't one of them.

As Annie barreled her way towards Frankie, you saw in slow motion how his handsome face went from being creased with worry, to eyebrow raised shock, to breaking out in a teary smile. He had just begun to crouch down and open his arms in anticipation of holding his little girl when instead she ran right past him and locked herself in one of the sheds.

Time continued to move in slow motion, making it all the more heartbreaking watching your boyfriend's face crumple, the tears of joy turn to tears of pain as he recovered from his initial excitement and realized that his child didn't want to see him.

Tiny, muffled sobs broke the moment and brought time, and the horrible situation, back into focus. The Child Protective Services worker who had accompanied Annie from California was calling apologies to Frankie while running after the little girl, trying not to slip in the snow in her hurry.

You wanted to go to him, to lend him some form of comfort, but you were also aware that some types of grief don't appreciate witnesses. Deciding to stick around and be helpful in the background, you made your way into the loft and started making coffee and sandwiches, foreseeing a longer stay for the caseworker than initially thought.

Nearly forty minutes had passed before you emerged again with food and drinks on a tray and the two adults were still talking to Annie through the cracks in the door. She had stubbornly refused to come out, demanding that she be returned to her home at once and that she hated snow.

Once you had set down the tray and cleared the snow off a picnic table, Frankie thanked you with a kiss to your temple and introduced you to Sharon after he convinced her to take a break from the negotiations. Sharon, who had been with Annie since the day of the accident, began filling Frankie in on what had happened to his daughter in the past month between sips of coffee. He was given a folder with notes from child psychologists, doctors, a letter from her maternal grandparents, and a journal Sharon had kept that described the ways Annie had been processing her grief.

While they talked, you decided to walk over and sit next to the door of the shed, laying a wool blanket down to protect your butt from the cold. You had no idea what to say to the girl but you figured she might like to be reassured she wasn't alone. Settling down, you dug into your own sandwich and hummed quietly to yourself.

You nearly choked on your next bite when you heard a soft voice singing along with the tune you'd chosen.

"Lavender blue, dilly dilly. Rosemary Green, if you are king dilly dilly, I'll be your queen."

After you'd repeated the song twice more, you stopped the tune and said softly,

"I've never heard those lyrics before, they're different from how I learned them."

A long pause followed, making you worry that you'd offended the child back into silence.

"How do you sing it?" Came the sweetest little voice, made all the more adorable with the barest hint of a lisp.

"We always sang, 'Lavender green', for one. Which never made any sense to me so I really like how you did it-"

"Yeah, cause lavender is another name for purple," she interrupted you with a matter-of-fact tone, "saying it's green is just weird!"

"Hmmm, it might be different," you conceded, seeing the opportunity for a lesson. "But either way you sing it, it's still a really pretty song, isn't it? Things can be different but it doesn't mean one is only good and one is only bad. Each version just had different good things."

Annie went silent again but this time you didn't worry about it, you knew she was thinking about what you said and needed time to apply it to what was happening right now. You eventually heard the shifting of metal and the creak of wood and had to will yourself to sit still and calm. The way you had let her approach you had worked so far, jumping up out of excitement could possibly erase all the progress you'd made so far.

Your patience was rewarded when Annie stepped out of the shed and lowered herself so that she was sitting on the blanket right next to you. Turning your head just enough to see her in your peripheral, you noticed how dull her eyes looked. Her hair was a mess and her skin looked pale for a kid who had been living under California's sun.

"My mommy is dead."

The way it was stated as a fact, with very little emotion, broke your heart. She was so little, so young, and so unable to fully grasp what kind of future had been ripped away from her.

"I know, I'm sorry that that happened to your mom."

"That man is my daddy." She was pointing at Frankie now, who was still engrossed in his conversation with Sharon.

"He's a pretty lucky guy to have you."

"That's the lady who has been taking care of me, she's been nice."

You were a bit out of your comfort zone with the conversation but there was no way in hell you were going drop it so you cautiously trudged on. Maybe verbalizing relationships and titles was helping her process?

"I'm very happy to hear that you've been staying with someone nice. Your dad is a really nice person, too, ya know? You should see the nice bedroom he's set up for you! I even helped him bake you an apple pie. Do you like apples? Or pie?" Her eyes went wide and a spark of happiness suddenly lit her face, making her appear more childlike than before.

"Is this an apple farm?" She practically squealed. “Like in My Little Pony?!”

Her outburst had finally drawn the attention of the other two adults, who were now only realizing that Annie had exited the shed. Frankie's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his two girls, beaming at each other. The twinge of jealousy from knowing that it had been you to draw her out was quickly squashed by how proud of you he was. He had been a little worried, although he hadn't voiced it, that his kid wouldn't take kindly to having a woman around but those fears were obviously for naught.

Part Fourteen

#Frankie Morales x fem!Reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Francisco Morales x fem!reader #Francisco Morales x f!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x fem!reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x f!reader #fix'er upper #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales fanfiction

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stutterfly · 4 years

Text

Failure to Communicate

This was a joint collab fic that @gukslut and I worked on, commissioned by @cypherft-v as part of our fundraising for Black Lives Matter. Thank you for contributing! Banner & moodboard by me :)

{Pairing} Park Jimin/ Reader

{Genre} Enemies to Lovers/ College AU/ comedy/ smut

{Rating} Mature - Explicit

{Word Count} 21K

{Warnings} oral, kissing, fingering, protected sex, biting, marking, other filthy shit

{Summary} You've always had a crush on Park Jimin, but the truth is that you're just one of many. He just so happens to be the TA for one of your classes, and you're determined to make your feelings known. Whether or not he takes you seriously remains to be seen.

{Prompt} Could either of you write an enemies to lover story about jimin and y/n set in college where he was her TA and got her kicked out of her major bc he didnt give her the grade she needed and was generally unhelpful? Posted on tumblr on August 17, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to any platform, including YouTube.

Ten more minutes. You can barely see the clock from your seat against the wall. The lecture hall isn't crowded by any means; to the contrary, this Tuesday/Thursday psych class is usually pretty empty. You could have just as easily sat in the middle, but it doesn't afford you the same view. Well, it does. But not the one you prefer. It's just that positioned front and center, your staring would look more obvious. At least that's what you're telling yourself. If you stare from the corner it's less conspicuous, which is important because you do a lot of staring in this class. Park Jimin is the TA.

The man in question sits off to the side at a table of his own, typing away on his laptop. This reminds you that you haven’t been doing much other than quietly ogling from a distance. The only notes you're taking are lackluster doodles of his appearance and the occasional squiggle of your pen at the quiet sighs he lets out when he stretches his back after sitting hunched over his laptop for too long.

Jimin is absolutely breathtaking — even in an ugly plaid three-piece suit and perfectly round spectacles that would look horrid on any normal person. You're definitely not the only one who has noticed. His beautiful features and fantastic bone structure forge a man who is borderline ethereal. With soft eyes, big pouty lips, a flawless complexion, and a flirtatious demeanor he has enraptured many over the years. He's popular... like, really popular.

You begrudgingly count yourself among those love-smitten numbers. You know it’s hopeless and illogical. He could have any person he so desired at any point in time. Why would he ever choose someone like you? If you’d been paying any sort of attention to the subject matter of this class you might know that things like feelings and life’s rhetorical questions often don’t make sense.

But you’re shit at psychology. You’re more of a blunt poet at heart, and that heart is often hidden behind twisted brambles of anxiety and sharp thorns of insecurity.

You are but a speck of dirt upon his round glasses. It’s been a hopeless, silent crush for some time, but now that he’s assisting the professor in this core requirement for your academic studies, he has to acknowledge your presence. You’re a speck he has to look at before swiping you out of sight with a wave of his hand.

He's the object of just about everyone's affections, and rightfully so. He's not just gorgeous, he's charismatic, charming, and such a smooth talker. The word on campus says those pretty lips of his can do a lot of other really wonderful things too. You've been watching him chew on them for the past five minutes straight, wondering how many times his deliciously pink tongue can sweep over them before he makes them chapped.

Maybe they're chapped already. Maybe you should offer him your chapstick? Or maybe you should never talk to him at all, because you don't stand a chance. Park Jimin would chew you up and leave you bleeding out with a broken heart, and you know it. That doesn't stop you from imagining all the ways he could take you in his mouth first. You could watch those pretty lips all day long, but you’ll settle for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Looking up as if he's been paying attention all along, Jimin attempts to figure out where the professor is in the lesson. It’s obvious that he wasn't listening at all and was instead answering messages. It would be nice if he could say they were messages for class, but that's not true and Jimin is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar. He's been talking to Chungha, his current flavor of the week.

He turns toward the students as the professor dismisses the class and there you are, eager and awestruck. It takes every ounce of self control Jimin has not to roll his eyes. Another fan, he presumes. You can't handle him, but he can tell by the embarrassed way you tear your eyes from him to look anywhere else that it hasn't stopped you from thinking about it.

Trying to seem nonchalant now is a lost cause. Jimin has no shame and although you busied yourself by packing up your neglected textbooks and darting your gaze to various points in the room for a straight minute, Jimin is still staring at you when you look back at him. He smirks when your eyes meet. It's not a flirty kind of smirk, you sadly note. It's condescending in your eyes, which further solidifies your theory: Jimin is too much for you no matter how badly you want a taste of him.

"Did you take notes?" he asks, nodding toward your backpack where you've just tucked your computer and sketched up notebook.

"I- uhh..." You panic.

"You know that was all about the exam next week. You're gonna need those notes if you want to have any hope of passing it," he tells you, shoving his own computer into his bag.

"I was just.. um, I was--" you attempt to explain.

"Busy staring at me?" He smiles and you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s teasing oh gyou.

You balk at the blatant accusation and force a half-laugh, half-scoff from your throat. “No.”

"Yes," he corrects with a light and mellifluous laugh. "Is there pen on my face or were you hoping you could be?"

"What?" you choke, eyes watering at the idea.

Jimin shakes his head, laughing softly to himself as he remembers his surroundings. With a small clear of his throat and the subtle adjusting of his tie, he provides a suggestion for you. “Get them from Taehyung.”

"Get what?" you ask, drawing a blank on what this conversation was even about. It's the first time you've ever actually talked to him outside of your dreams and it’s proving to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.

"The notes, Y/N. Get the notes from Taehyung, you know, the ones that you didn't take today because you were daydreaming about my mouth," he tells you, heading for the door.

Taehyung, who is the only other person left in the room wiggles his fingers at you in a wave. When you turn back, Jimin is gone.

"Need the notes?" Taehyung asks, voice free of judgement.

"Please," you sigh, relieved that he'd waited.

He spins his laptop toward you, where an email is already open with the notes attachment added. "Drop your address in there," he says standing up.

"Thank you so much," you say, frantically typing your student email into the space.

"Hey, y/n?" Taehyung asks, the bristles of curiosity or concern painting his tone with a soft comfort.

"Yeah?"

"Jimin is a fool," he tells you.

"What?"

"If you were looking at me like that, I'd at least ask for your number." Tae offers a combination of large hopeful eyes and a giant goofy grin as he holds his phone out for you.

Giggling, you take it from his hand and add your number to his contacts list. He purses his lips to hide his excitement as he takes his phone back. He slides it into his pocket before hastily packing the rest of his things into his leather messenger bag.

"Thanks, Taehyung," you say, waving on your way out the door.

"Wait!" he shouts after you, half of the contents of his bag threatening to spill onto the floor as he scrambles away from the table. He adjusts his belongings and clears his throat, instantly adopting a smooth persona. "Where are you going? I'll walk you."

"My car?"

"Wanna come eat with me?" he wonders. He's confident, but it's not the same kind of arrogant confidence that Jimin oozes. He's softer. He feels more real, more attainable. He obviously knows he's a catch and he’s definitely expressed the same about you. What could be the harm in letting an attractive man stroke your ego a little bit? If you’re being honest with yourself, you can use the boost after such a pathetic display towards your crush.

"Oh, uh... yeah. I guess so," you agree, letting him lead the way out the door.

"Cool." Tae takes his glasses off and hooks them in his shirt. Pulling a snapback from his bag, he pushes his hair back and puts it on before he swings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Damn. Why did that raise his hotness like ten whole levels?

"You like hamburgers?"

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Taehyung slips into the seat next to you on Thursday, brushing against you very deliberately as he passes.

"Hello, sugar," he says, licking his lips as he spares a fleeting glance down at your chest.

"Hey, Tae," you greet him while your eyes are still locked on Jimin.

"Still on Jimin, huh?" he asks. He doesn't sound particularly disappointed, or surprised for that matter. He's just stating a fact. You're relieved he's not offended. Letting him eat you out in his backseat after dinner was probably not your best decision, although it seems like it meant about as much to him as it did to you.

"I don't know," you say with a shrug.

"It's okay. I can't blame you. I could put in a good word for you if you want. We're close," he informs you, sitting back and spreading his legs wide under the desk.

Sighing, you rest your cheek in your palm. "I've got a plan," you confess.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckles. He playfully knocks his knee against yours as if to signal for you to spill. "Do tell."

"I think I need a little extra help with this material," you tell Taehyung.

"Good luck, Y/n. I hope he can squeeze you into his busy schedule, but hey, if he can't, I'm totally down to squeeze into yours anytime."

Looking at Tae out of the corner of your eye, you smile at the grin he wears and start to laugh at the way he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"I'll keep that in mind," you joke.

"Please do."

The minutes drag on as you wait for this class to end. Doing your best to seem a little less obsessive this time, you make a point to take notes and look at the teacher more than the TA. Jimin still catches you staring at least three times. It's embarrassing, but not enough to stop you from approaching him as the room empties out.

"Hi, y/n," Jimin sings, giving you a knowing smile.

"Hi." You tuck your hair behind your ear, and smile back.

"Do you need something?" he wonders, purposefully combing his fingers through his silver hair.

Damn, do you ever.

"I was wondering if you had time to help me. I'm struggling with this material and I could really use some one-on-one guidance." Leaning over his desk you make sure he has a good view right down your shirt, not that his eyes wander from yours. While he shows restraint in his gaze you swear he briefly drags his bottom lip through his teeth before he catches himself.

"One-on-one, huh?" He sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking amused. "I bet Taehyung would give you some one-on-one guidance."

You're sure that's true, but it's not Taehyung you're after. Taehyung isn’t the TA. Taehyung isn’t getting paid to help teach a course. Of course you want to say that and in your head you rehearse the words but you can’t seem to find a way to phrase them eloquently enough. Why do you always get stupid brain around him? Your plan is quickly falling apart.

Jimin waits for your response with his eyebrows raised. You know he's two seconds away from leaving you gaping at him and walking out the door, so you do something incredibly rash and stupid.

"I like you," you blurt out.

Jimin smiles. He knows that, obviously. He also knows damn well that you're perfectly capable of looking back at your notes by yourself. You're definitely smart and dedicated enough to study on your own. He can't help teasing you anyway.

"Everyone likes me," he casually informs you as he plants his palms on the desk and leans on them.

He peeks over the edge of his glasses as he looks up at you, like some kind of otherworldly sexy librarian. If deities ever needed a librarian, Jimin wouldn’t even need a resume. His charm and seduction are so strong that you almost miss his rejection. Almost. You're stunned into silence when it hits you. Just as you're about to tuck and run, he smiles again.

"But,” he pauses to click his tongue thoughtfully, “I think I have some time on Saturday. I'll give you my number.” He rips a corner of paper out of his notebook. "Is it okay if I come to your place? Do you have a dorm or…”

"Oh. My apartment’s fine!" you flounder, trying to remember how to speak coherent sentences. Jimin. In your room. How many dreams have you had about this moment? "I mean, yeah, sure. You'll come to mine, yeah."

Jimin giggles and it sounds like pealing bells. You're lost in the beautiful sound of it until you realize that he's laughing at you. "You okay with that? We could meet somewhere else instead."

"I wouldn't mind you in my room," you sigh. Open mouth; insert foot.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you a chance to backtrack, but you're both well aware you meant every word of that.

"Okay, y/n. See you Saturday then. Call me."

"I’ll call you," you repeat, resisting the urge to slap your palm over your face. You sound like an idiot. Stupid brain strikes again.

Jimin barely notices, all too used to girls falling over themselves to get his attention. You’re no different to him, just another pretty face in a sea of women entranced by the way he walks, talks, and breathes. It’s not his fault he’s so damn pretty. He does note that you’re brave, however. Not many people come on to him so brazenly, and that’s something worth rewarding. Besides, he feels a sort of obligation to help you out. He is getting paid to help out the professor, after all.

He winks at you as he leaves, taking your breath and your sanity with him. You have Park Jimin’s phone number. Park Jimin is going to be in your apartment in two days. Maybe you didn’t bomb that as hard as you thought.

A slow clap beckons you to look back for the source and you find Taehyung looking back at you with his boxy grin. When he’s sure he’s got your attention he raises his two thumbs up in approval.

Jimin is not surprised when Chungha disappears into the clusterfuck of bodies as soon as they step into the party. They may have come here together, but their fling is on its last leg and they both know it. She wants him off her couch, doesn't appreciate the feeling of tied-down-ness that comes with your friend with benefits staying over all the time. She's ready to move on, that means he has to as well.

Jimin isn't even sure whose house this is, but he’s happy to tag along for free booze and maybe a new face to go home with. Luckily, his friends are never far, and he finds them easily. Getting absolutely hammered in the backyard makes them hard to miss. Jungkook is the only one looking particularly bored as a very drunk Taehyung hangs all over him talking about the sweetest thing he ever tasted.

"Why so glum?" Jimin asks, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his own.

"I'm the designated driver tonight," Jungkook sighs, pushing Taehyung off of him.

Taehyung slumps to the ground, immediately entranced by the stars above him. Jungkook kicks at him gently.

"Where's your girlfriend? I haven't seen you without your tongue down her throat all week," Jungkook wonders, looking behind Jimin for the woman in question.

"Girlfriend," Jimin repeats with a snort. "Hilarious. That's not a thing. She's probably looking for her next kill."

Jungkook regards Jimin thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunching toward each other. "If you take over DD you can have the futon."

Jungkook loves his futon. It's one of his most prized possessions. He keeps it very clean and being allowed to get anywhere near it is a privilege. Jimin is pretty sure he goes over it with a lint roller as part of his nighttime routine. It's also incredibly comfortable.

Jimin releases a breath in a tortured groan as he thinks over his options. He could get black out drunk and wake up god knows where with a terrible hangover, or he could hang out and watch his friends get black out drunk and then wake up on a futon that feels more like a cloud than a mattress, a little slice of heaven in Jungkook and Taehyung's little apartment.

"Okay," Jimin relents. "Give me the keys. I’ll stick to water for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I love you man," Jungkook praises, tossing his keys in Jimin's general direction before grabbing the newly opened can of beer out of Taehyung's hand below him. Taehyung, still staring up at the sky with a glazed smile, doesn't react. It takes Jungkook all of five seconds to pour the contents of the can straight down his throat. He follows this by smashing the can in a bicep curl with a giggle and a bashful smile.

"Do it again," an unfamiliar girly voice pleads from across the table. She tosses him another can and he repeats the action, turning away when he's finished so that he doesn't have to see her reaction. Jimin knows what's going to happen once his friend gets a few more beers in him. Jungkook is going to go apeshit. There will be no trace of this shy hunk of muscle who blushes and coils away from pretty girls. He'll be chest thumping shirtless and picking up everyone who gets close enough to touch. Half of them will probably end up thrown in the pool, if history is anything to go by, and he'll most likely have the hottest girl at the party slobbering all over him in the backseat when Jimin drives him home tonight.

Jimin's suspicions prove true an hour later when Jungkook throws Tae in the pool. Jimin runs to the edge of it in a panic. Tae was very drunk so he needs to make sure he's not just sinking like a stone. That was his first mistake, although he'd make it again to keep Taehyung safe. His second mistake was wearing these ridiculously tight ass jeans.

Any other pair and he might have been able to pry his cell phone from his pocket the second he felt JK's hands on his back. Had he worn any other pair of pants he might have been able to throw it to safety in the grass before he hit the surface of the pool. As it stands, his skin tight jeans are soaked through, Tae is slightly more sober than he was when Jimin arrived and is swimming just fine, and Jimin's phone is totally destroyed.

You should be sleeping. It's three in the morning. You should definitely not be awake right now. Lifting your phone up for the three hundredth time tonight, you're not surprised to have no new notifications. That text you sent to Jimin hours ago has gone unanswered.

You typed and erased it at least ten times, agonized over what to say, and how to say it. By the time you pressed send, the message was nothing like how it began and you noticed a second too late that you didn't even tell him who you were. Adding a second text saying 'it's y/n btw' seemed so desperate. You've been waiting for him to ask who you are for so long that you've convinced yourself he already knows and he's avoiding you on purpose. Who else would have said "i'm excited to see you tomorrow" in a text about meeting up to study? He knows it's you. He has to. The alternative possibility that he plans to see other people tomorrow too is too bothersome to accept. You really need to let this go and try to sleep.

Keys in the door stop you from dragging yourself off the couch. Your roommate will see you and accuse you of trying to run away from him to avoid something. He’s right, of course. You’ve attempted to flee from your problems in the past, against his advice. Now you know better than to try. It's much better to face things with Yoongi head on. At the very least, maybe he's got something helpful to say.

"Why're you up? You look sad." His words slur just the tiniest bit and he leans against the wall for stability as he takes off his shoes just inside the door. You see right through his attempts at nonchalance. He's tipsy.

"A boy I like isn't texting me back," you admit with a scowl. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"No, friend dropped me off. Is it Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, not pausing for an answer. "I wouldn't worry too much. He talked about you a lot tonight. He was really drunk though. You should go to bed. He'll probably text you in the morning."

You don't bother to correct Yoongi. Admitting you're harboring a huge fucking crush on the campus it-boy is the most foolish thing you could possibly do. It's embarrassing and naive and Yoongi would pity you for falling for someone so far out of your league. Maybe you should just date Taehyung and forget about Jimin. He sure seems to have forgotten about you.

When the morning comes and your only notifications are an email from Target and a text from your mom, you muster up every bit of courage you could possibly find in your body and call him. You’d rather know if he’s deliberately ignoring you now than agonize over other possibilities all day.

It doesn't even ring. His phone goes straight to voicemail. You try again, and a third time. Voicemail, voicemail. Could it be you rushed putting his number in and did it incorrectly? You dig through your backpack for the slip of paper he gave you to double check, and sure enough, it’s his number. He's ignoring you. He turned off his phone to solidify that fact in your brain.

Last night, laying awake waiting for his name to light up your phone, you felt pretty damn bad. In the daylight, with rest and a clear head, you're absolutely crushed. He was supposed to come over. You had plans. It was stupid of you to think you could earn space in his mind or time in his schedule. He played you, and it hurts.

Studying on your own proves more difficult than you imagined. With only Tae's notes to go by, you feel like you're quizzing yourself on things you already know. Turning to the textbook doesn't give you the specialized knowledge you need for the exam. You could never hope to memorize enough of it that you'd retain something pertinent.

On top of that, your heart hurts. You were so close to spending time together you could practically smell the subtle scent of his cologne. He pulled the rug right out from under you so fast, your ass is sore from falling on it so hard.

Sunday and Monday pass miserably in their slowness as you continue to nurse your tender rejected heart. You spend two days mulling over how you're going to face Jimin on Tuesday, let alone how you’re going to pass this exam when you're so disgustingly focused on figuring out why he stood you up and ignored you all weekend.

Tuesday comes too soon and you find yourself lingering outside the lecture hall for way longer than any sane person should.

That's what bothers you the most about this whole thing with Jimin. He's stolen your sense. How on earth did you let a stupid crush, on a boy you hardly know, get between you and your grades? You tell yourself no more as you suck in a deep breath and steel yourself to march right through the door. You're not going to let Park Jimin and his cruelty stand between you and your credits.

With your resolve solid and your head held high, you push yourself forward. You don't even spare a glance in his general direction as you pass, although it would be a lie to say you didn't clock him in your peripheral. Tae sits down next to you a moment later and you thank your lucky stars you have a friend here to make you look busy.

"Ready to make this exam your bitch?" he asks, making finger guns at you and clicking his tongue.

"That remains to be seen," you say, turning toward him in your seat so that Jimin is behind you. "I couldn't get anything done this weekend," you confess. "I thought I was more prepared than I am so it really just depends on what's on the exam."

"Aw fuck, you could have called me," he says, passing you his note cards. "We could have studied together."

"Oh, Tae," you sigh, pushing his hand back and refusing his offer of notes. "You should use this time for yourself. It wouldn't be fair of me to take it from you."

"We've got ten minutes." He points to the clock at the front of the lecture hall. "Quiz me. It will help us both."

Ten minutes fly by as you do your absolute best to retain any of the information in Taehyung's carefully written cards. You take one last glance at it before someone slips it from your hand and replaces it with a test. You know it's Jimin.

Only when you look up and level him with a glare does it seem to register on his face that you're angry. Realization dawns on him as you snatch the test and lean over it on your desk.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he quietly whispers, but he's moving on already. The exam is about to begin. He doesn't have time to explain himself right now. He knows what it looks like. He led you on and stood you up without so much as a text message. He should have asked Tae to tell you what happened, but the truth is that he forgot about you entirely and he knows that is the cruelest thing he could possibly confess.

Nearly an hour later you set your pencil down and run your fingers through your hair. Did any of those answers make sense? Your only possible saving grace is bullshitting your way through the open responses. Maybe you’ll earn some partial credit at the very least.

You swallow the petty words threatening to spill from your tongue as you gather your things and approach Jimin’s desk with your test in hand. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the anxious glances he threw your way. You swore every time you looked up he was looking at you, so you’d squint like you were checking the time, like you had somewhere more important to be than taking an exam for a core requirement course.

As you slap the packet of your evident failure down on his desk, you don your best apathetic expression. You look down at him and allow a sliver of eye contact, just enough to send the message that you don’t care anymore. You try to look bored. He doesn’t deserve to see how he’s hurt you or angered you. He’s nothing to you. You’re nothing to him, but you’re not beneath him. He’s beneath you. You don’t just look at him; you look through him.

He blinks a few times and a chill runs down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words won’t form.

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you whisper with a roll of your eyes.

You make sure to straighten your shoulders and keep your chin up as you turn on your heel and leave. You bombed that exam and you know it, thanks to your stupid feelings, but at the very least you achieved the victory of shaking Park Jimin to his core. So why do you feel like you’re about to sob in the bathroom down the hall?

Oh. Because you are. You spend at least five minutes composing yourself and washing your face before your phone buzzes with a much needed distraction.

[NEW MESSAGE] Tae: hungry?

Jimin’s leg bounces uncontrollably under his desk while he waits for the remaining students to finish their exams so he can go after you. He wracks his brain for ways to clear the nervous tension dwelling within but it’s no use. Confrontation makes him so uncomfortable. Still, he can’t have you thinking he’s a total douche. He should text you. Fuck, he should call you. And he would, if he had a working phone. The second the last student drops their exam on his desk he’s going to find you and apologize.

He knows his reputation precedes him. He knows exactly what this looks like. You probably think he blew you off to get some or just led you on entirely, but he really did mean to meet up with you. He needs to clear the air. Maybe he’s a little loose with his morals at times, but he’s never an asshole on purpose. He prides himself on being a beacon of positivity and an example on how to make people feel good even if it’s only to make them feel good. He barely knows you, but it bothers him to think that you’re out there thinking he’s a heartless jerk and that he hurt your feelings on purpose.

It’s a big campus and Jimin spends the better half of an hour searching it before he finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung. You look awfully close, and he almost feels bad interrupting you, but he owes you an explanation. It’s a mystery to him why on earth you would seek out his company when Taehyung seems all too willing to be what you need.

Taehyung notices him before you do. He shakes his head at Jimin disapprovingly. “Cold, man. So cold.”

Jimin nods, hanging his head. He’s well aware. You haven’t turned around yet and don’t intend to. If Jimin can ignore you then you can ignore him too. Besides, if you turn to face him, he might notice your watery, puffy eyes. How incredibly foolish that would be to admit that you’ve been crying about being stood up by someone you’ve barely even spoken to.

“Y/n?” Jimin’s soft voice calls to you, melodic and soothing as ever. “Can I have a minute?”

Taehyung looks between the two of you while he moves a french fry into his mouth at a snail’s pace and slowly chews as if this is free entertainment.

“No,” you answer.

“I’m sorry about Saturday,” he tells you, progressing despite your refusal to listen. He plants his hands on the table beside you and leans in to try to steal a glance at your profile, but you turn your head away.

“Jungkook pushed me in the pool right after this asshole,” he says, pointing at Taehyung. “My phone was in my pocket. It’s ruined.”

“Hey,” Taehyung interrupts, his mouth open in protest and full of half-chewed fries. “Don’t pin this on me. You could have asked any one of us to let her know what happened. You never even mentioned it. Why don’t you just admit that you forgot?” Taehyung suggests, jamming another french fry into his little paper cup of ketchup before cramming it into his mouth.

Jimin fumes for a moment, glaring at Tae before he pulls out the chair next to you and spins it around. He straddles it and rests his chin on the backrest. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I forgot. I swear I never would have done something like that to you on purpose. My phone getting ruined messed up a lot of things, but if you give me another chance, I’d love to prove that I’m not the horrible person you think I am.”

Silence. You glance over at Taehyung, willing him to speak up and either back Jimin up or get you out of this. You’re ready to forgive Jimin already and leave with him right now and it’s not lost on you how bad that looks. It’s so easy for Jimin to have you wrapped around his fingers. You wish he was ugly. You wish you never signed up for this stupid class. You wish you could feel for Tae the way you feel for Jimin so that you could just leave with him instead. You’re about ready to anyway when he finally opens his mouth again.

“I think you should take her out to eat. Eating out is the perfect way to apologize, don’t you think?” Tae’s grin is so wide it makes his eyes crinkle.

You huff out a humorless laugh. If that’s what you wanted you’d stick with the original plan and be in the backseat of Taehyung’s car again in the next twenty minutes. Against your better judgement, you turn to look at Jimin, puffy eyes and runny nose no longer hidden. He’s a little taken back by your expression. He smiles at you softly and reaches out to brush his knuckles against your cheek. You practically melt into his touch.

“Mmm, I would like something sweet.” Jimin licks his lips. “How about ice cream?”

“When?” you ask, embarrassed by the way your voice cracks and by how easily you’re giving in.

“Now?”

“Well, look at the time,” Tae says, standing with his tray and messenger bag. “I’ve got to go wash my hair but you two have fun on your date. Use protection!” he calls behind him on his way toward the exit.

You’d be irritated by his blunt suggestion if his statement didn’t swirl a storm of butterflies deep in your gut. You’re so distracted by them that you don’t realize that you’re still gaping at Jimin in disbelief.

“So?” Jimin wonders, holding out his hand.

“I don’t forgive you,” you insist while taking it into yours. Although it’s probably a lie, he doesn’t call you on it. He simply smiles and gives your hand a tiny comforting squeeze.

“My car is on the other side of campus,” you tell him once you’ve stepped outside. “Where are you parked?”

“Oh, um,” he stalls. “I thought it might be nice to walk, give us more time to talk. Is that okay?”

“Isn’t it kind of far?” you ask, assuming he's taking you to that chain ice cream shoppe a few miles off campus.

"No, this place is close. It's a secret. Not many people know about it," he says with a wink.

"You say that to everyone don't you?" You narrow your eyes at him, moving out of reach when he tries to put his arm around you.

"No," he laughs. "I've been here with other people, though. I was here with Jin last week." He smiles, leading the way toward a small alley between buildings.

You follow him easily, questioning again why you have so little self preservation when it comes to him. At the other end of the alley you can see what looks like a park. Green trees line the sidewalk up ahead, creating a canopy against the brilliant sun. The walk to this mysterious ice cream place is shaded and chilly. Jimin slips his jacket off and slings it over your shoulders when he notices you rubbing at your arms.

"Almost there," he promises. In the distance, framed by two towering oaks, is a tiny little ice cream place. It looks like a mirage, something out of a board game or a fairy tale. The closer you get, the more real it becomes. The siding is faded, the roof looks like it's in dire need of repairs, and the hand-painted sign reading The Cheery Cherry has seen better days. It's clean though, sparkling in all the places that matter.

There is a stout old man behind the window with a shining silver ice cream scoop ready and waiting in his hand. Jimin greets him by name and asks for a simple vanilla cone. You're tempted to judge him, he doesn't strike you as the vanilla type, but there must be a reason. Maybe this is the best vanilla ice cream on earth. You order the same just in case, taking your first taste as Jimin pulls a few bills from his wallet and hands them over with a shaky hand.

To your dismay the ice cream is not extraordinary; it's just plain vanilla. You could probably get the same exact type from any grocery store. You should have gone with something else. You should have at least gotten the cheery cherry cone. That might have been a flavor worth tasting. Why was he so bent on coming here for such a bland ice cream?

You suppose you should be thankful for the gesture but you still feel uneasy, like he’s playing you somehow. It almost feels like he’s doing it out of obligation rather than desire. Is he doing the bare minimum because he doesn’t feel like you’re worth more than this? Your company must be the equivalent to a plain vanilla cone. Mediocre. Unremarkable. Ordinary.

Forgettable.

Jimin turns back to you with his ice cream in one hand and change filling the other. "Is it good?"

"It's vanilla." You shrug.

"Do you want something different?" he asks, counting the money in his hand.

"No, I like vanilla."

"Figures," he teases.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you snap back at him.

"Nothing, sweetheart. I just think you're soft, sweet. Vanilla suits you."

"I am not vanilla. I do all kinds of freaky shit," you argue, realizing too late that you've over shared in your annoyance.

Jimin looks you over with a smirk, bringing his ice cream to his lips and dragging his tongue around the edge of the cone where it's dripping. "Noted," he says.

"I didn't mean-- I wasn't -- UGH," you huff, embarrassed that he's still making a fool of you from the doghouse. You need to change the subject fast. "What'syourmajor?" You rush the question past your lips and he laughs at your flustered state, waiting for you to slow down and ask him in words he can understand.

"Your major?" you repeat, slower this time.

"Oh, uh. Urban studies."

"Interesting."

"You don't know what that means, huh?" He nudges you with his elbow, falling in stride beside you. Unfortunately, you had just brought your ice cream up to your mouth and his nudging caused you to smear it across your cheek.

You look at him angrily. First he stood you up, forgot about you, then he had the nerve to show up to class today looking like a fucking angel, takes you for ice cream to make it up to you, and now he's teasing you and making you look every bit the fool you feel like you are. Tears well in your eyes when he laughs at the mess he caused.

"I'm sorry," he says through his giggling. He reaches out to gently wipe your cheek with his thumb which he promptly pops in his mouth and sucks clean after. "What's wrong?"

You swipe at your eyes, ridding them of the tears that were about to spill out as your shame bubbles over. "You make me feel stupid," you confess. "You're wasting my time."

Shoving his jacket back at him, you take off in the direction you came, throwing your stupid vanilla cone in the closest trash can and kicking yourself for not leaving with Taehyung instead. Jimin winces at the action, looking like you’ve discarded a precious keepsake rather than a plain, boring vanilla cone.

"Y/n, wait!" he calls, catching up to you with ease. He takes you by the wrist and spins you back to face him. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He sighs, softening his hold on you. “I didn’t know what to think about you when you approached me at first, you know? Girls throw themselves at me all the time.”

You grimace at his words and roll your eyes, snatching your wrist back with a scowl. Of course he thinks you were throwing yourself at him, but you’re sure that you weren’t. You were just being direct about your feelings. Do you really come across as such a desperate person? Maybe you should ask Yoongi for his opinion later.

“But I definitely didn’t mean to stand you up and I don’t mean to make you feel stupid at all. I think you're pretty smart, you’re cute and you’re actually bolder than I initially thought. I'd love to get to know you better. I know I'm not doing so great so far, but I can be better. Please, sit with me?" he asks, walking to a nearby park bench.

Reluctantly, you follow, although you make a point to drag your feet the whole way there. When you sit down beside him, he loops an arm around your waist and draws you closer, offering his ice cream up to you once your legs brush against his. You reach for it but he pulls it away.

"Hey," he jokes. "Just lick it. I didn't make you throw yours away."

You shake your head and lean forward to drag your tongue over what's left of his vanilla cone.

"Forgive me?" he asks. His toothy smile catches the sunlight and it genuinely hurts your eyes to keep looking.

"Okay. One more chance," you agree. "So, urban studies?"

He relaxes back against the bench, taking another lick before he offers the cone to you again. "Yeah, it's like community development and stuff. What about you, princess? What are you studying?"

You flush at the nickname, heat rising in your face and other places you'd rather not acknowledge. You're oblivious to the fact that you're having a similar effect on Jimin. The way you're licking his ice cream is making his pants feel a little tight.

"Teaching," you tell him, picking at the peeling paint on the bench.

"Little kids?"

"Yeah." You take another lick of his ice cream while he holds it, looking up halfway through.

Jimin's expression is unreadable, stunned almost. He shifts a little, crosses his legs, clears his throat.

"Kids are fun. I have a younger brother," he tells you.

"A lot younger?"

"No," he laughs. "But he's a total baby so it's basically the same.”

“Oh, does he get that from you?” you tease with a giggle.

His mouth drops open in surprise. “Hey,” he pouts. “That’s not nice.”

“I never said I was nice,” you tell him, taking another slow lick of his ice cream.

“Clearly,” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. He drags his lip through his teeth to try to hide the smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You manage to cram so much conversation into the next twenty minutes on this park bench, learning more about the mysterious campus celebrity than you ever thought you’d know. You hope his interest wasn't feigned, because it felt so fucking good to have his attention, to have him really listen to you and ask you about your life and your family and your hopes for the future. If you're not mistaken, you might think this was real progress.

Jimin watches you walk back toward campus with a soft smile and an unfamiliar feeling brewing inside him. You've surprised him. You're not the naive infatuated little girl he took you for. If he had a phone he'd be texting you already. He'd call you tonight, and maybe tomorrow. It's alarming to him how badly he wants another ten minutes with you. He hates that you declined his offer to walk you to your next class, but damn does he ever appreciate the view.

Thursday comes quickly. After your initial ice cream date, Jimin has found himself curiously seeking your attention rather than the other way around. With his phone out of commission he was hanging around the cafeteria all day yesterday in hopes of catching you. While it’s clear you don’t trust him and you haven’t forgiven him, you seem to have softened up a bit. You spent your meals together and allowed him to walk you to your classes, all while exchanging playful jabs at each other. You might forgive him for bailing if yesterday stood alone. Today is a whole different story.

Now Jimin is staring down a stack of graded exams the professor has dropped on the table at the front of the room. Students haven’t begun to trickle in yet so when the professor takes the opportunity to excuse himself, Jimin wastes no time in flipping through the pile to get a sense of the overall success of the class. When he gets to a test marked in thick red marker with an ‘F’ his stomach drops. He knows it’s yours before he even reads the name. He was hoping maybe you’d been lying about not paying attention.

He shuffles the exam back into place and straightens the pile just as the earliest student walks in. Jimin offers her a wan smile and a tiny bow of his head as a greeting. Although his stomach is still sinking and churning, he’s already thinking about ways he might be able to make it up to you.

Jimin finds you in the cafeteria with Taehyung again, where he has you distracted from your misery by folding and unfolding a cootie catcher in front of your face like you're in third grade and not your third year of college.

"Pick a color now, y/n," Tae urges, opening and closing the folded paper four times after you've indicated the triangle marked 'pink.' "Hmm," he ponders. "It says you need to relax."

"What is this, a fortune cookie? I thought these things were like truth or dare, or like... who I was gonna marry," you complain, flicking the craft from his hands.

Jimin picks the paper up off the floor and hands it back to Taehyung. "Do me," he says.

After a moment of pointing and folding, Tae announces, "It says you need to apologize. Again."

Jimin looks at you while Tae packs up his stuff. After dropping a kiss on the top of your head he leaves for his next class. The action makes Jimin furrow his brows and frown. A feeling too uncomfortably close to jealousy blooms in his chest. Why did that bother him so much? He's not ready to acknowledge the answer to that. Instead, he contradicts it by reminding himself that Tae is one of his closest friends and it's cool that the two of you are getting close too.

"Princess?" Jimin's song-like voice drifts to your ears once Tae has disappeared. You've pressed your face into your folded arms on the table and it's taking everything you have not to start crying about your failed exam again. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, laying his hand against the small of your back and beginning to rub soft circles there. "I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"I wish you were ugly," you mumble into your arms.

"What?" he laughs, leaning his face down next to yours.

You lift your head to meet his eyes. "If you were ugly this never would have happened," you insist, sitting up and shaking his hand off your back with a twist of your spine. "Just be ugly! FUCK."

Jimin smiles before screwing his face up into the most unrecognizable grimace he can manage. He holds it until you start to smile then switches to another terrible expression, with his chin tucked into his neck so that it morphs into several chins and crosses his eyes for extra emphasis on its ridiculousness. When you start to laugh he sticks out his tongue to make it worse.

Once you’re clutching your stomach and doubled over with pealing laughter, he gives you the beautiful smile you're so used to again. "Let's do something fun together," he offers. "And then after that, we'll get studying and make this right. Please let me make it up to you."

"Okay," you agree, leaning into his open arms. It only took a couple days of spending time together to remove the awkwardness you felt when he touched you. He's even held your hand a few times while you walked together after your other classes. Now, his embrace feels welcome and comforting. You still can’t tell if he’s just trying to be nice or if he actually likes doing it but you don’t mind at all.

"There's a party on Saturday, will you come with me?"

"Where?" you ask, as if you have any hope of refusing him at all. You'd go anywhere with him and you know it but you want to try to play it cool. Your tone seems more tepid than you anticipate but he doesn’t seem to call you out on it.

"Jin's," he tells you, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together.

He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand while he waits for you to pretend to decide. You relish in the motion. The tingle of butterflies erupt in your belly again like a cannon aimed at your heart, ready to sink it in an instant. Instead of falling, your heart seems to fly up to your brain and a light giggle escapes your lips.

"Okay. I'll come," you say in a euphoric brain fog, looking down at your joined hands. It's scary how good it feels to have his attention like this, but you hope it doesn’t stop.

"Why are you home?" Yoongi asks, finding you on the couch when he emerges from his bedroom. His late afternoon nap went longer than expected, leaving you believing he was out for the night. You settled in with Netflix and snacks of your own. He flops down next to you, causing you to swing your feet off the couch before they get squashed beneath his butt. He yawns and lets his head dip forward as he pulls out his phone and begins flipping through it.

"It's Friday night,” he reminds you, his tone scratchy. It makes you giggle.

"I didn't wanna go out alone and I thought you were gone. You're gonna be up all night now, you know."

"I would have stayed asleep but I've got a friend in need," he mumbles, rubbing the remainder of sleep from his eyes.

"Aww, you're so good to me." You beam, snuggling up to him and wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"Not you," he huffs with a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, that’s enough touching.”

You immediately pull back and scoff. “Wow. You’re lucky I know you know you love me.”

He rolls his eyes. "That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mock him in a tone of disbelief. You pop a chip into your mouth. “So why are you really up— if not to support your wonderful, beautiful, perfectly sculpted local couch potato?”

He smiles and steals the next chip from your hand before you can shove it into your mouth. “If you're good with it, my friend is gonna crash on our couch for a few days. His parents cut him off and he’s got nowhere to go. He’s almost got enough saved up to get his own place, but he could use some help in the meantime. Figured we’re doing alright and we have a couch. You cool with that?"

"Sure," you agree, trusting Yoongi's judgment. He's not gonna let some crazy person stay on your couch. "When?"

"I was just waiting for your approval but I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to you before I passed out. I'll go pick him up now, if that's good with you," he says slipping his feet into a pair of sandals and looking for his keys.

"What, he doesn't have a car?"

"Sold it to pay for his books this semester. He's got nothing. He's keeping all his clothes in another friend's closet. It's kinda sad."

"That's rough," you agree, blowing out a heavy exhale and turning your attention back to the TV.

"I'll be back in a few. Maybe take it to your room so he can have the couch?" Yoongi suggests.

"Sure, sure," you say, already sucked back into your show and forgetting entirely about Yoongi and his friend for now.

When Yoongi returns an hour later, you haven't moved. In fact, you’ve crashed… hard. Yoongi and his mystery guest enter to a chorus of your snores and the Friends theme song.

“Hey, get up,” Yoongi urges, nudging your shoulder lightly.

When you peel your eyes open to look at him, you’re utterly mystified to see the object of your affections a few feet behind him, standing awkwardly in your kitchen with a duffle slung over his shoulder.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you blink a few times to clear your vision. You want to be sure it's him before you open your mouth. He's there, in black sweats with a grey hoodie pulled up over his white baseball cap. “Jimin?”

“Oh good you know him," Yoongi says with relief coating his tone. "I’m gonna get him some blankets. Think you can take your Netflix marathon to your room?”

"Yeah, I can do that," you mumble, gathering up your mess and disappearing into your room without another word.

Alone in your room, you conjure up a hundred reasons in your anxious mind that could explain why Jimin thought he had to keep this huge secret from you. He’s got nothing? Maybe he was afraid you'd tell people. Suddenly, it makes so much sense why he's always walking everywhere.

You think back to Tuesday at the Cheery Cherry. His usually steady hands were so shaky handing over those bills he pulled from his wallet. You think of how tightly he clutched his change and even counted it out afterward. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your own thoughts of inadequacy, you might have been able to put it together on your own. Your stomach drops when you recall the insulting way you threw your vanilla cone in the trash. The scene replays over and over again until you’re crying into your pillow.

Guilt keeps you awake until well past midnight as you turn these unsavory ideas over and over in your head, looking at them from every possible angle and over analyzing every detail of the time you've spent together thus far. Your eyes are now wide and dry, fixed on a black spot on your ceiling that you're hoping is just a speck and not a spider. The quilt in your hands is frayed, giving your nervous hands something to pick at while you let the silence drive you mad.

The soft knock on your door at half past one is a relief. Yoongi does his best cooking at odd hours, usually bringing you a plate if you're awake. It's a surprise to find Jimin outside your door instead. He awkwardly shifts from foot to foot until he finds your eyes in the dim glow of your table lamp.

"Did I wake you?" he whispers, head leaning against your door frame.

You shake your head, looking down at your skimpy sleep shorts and the university hoodie you pulled on to open the door. “I was up.”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” you answer, stepping aside so he can come in. Your eyes scan the room nervously, checking for underwear on the floor and counting the half empty glasses of water on your nightstand. If you knew Jimin was going to be in your bedroom tonight, you would have cleaned up. At least you didn’t leave your vibrator out in the open. You don’t think you’d recover from the embarrassment of that.

Jimin follows you to your bed, perching on the edge once you’ve settled back against your pillows.

“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t,” you respond immediately. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Then why did you run away?” he asks, pulling at his hoodie strings.

“I wanted to give you space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You didn’t tell me what you were going through and I didn’t want to…” you trail off, unsure how to articulate just why you ran away.

“You didn’t want to embarrass me? Hurt my pride?” he asks, sarcasm evident.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We aren’t that close.”

“That’s the problem,” he whispers. “I want to explain. I want to be that close to you.” He leans towards you, resting on his hands. He looks confident despite his current situation and it worries you a little. How can he be so sure of himself when he’s crashing on your couch and apologizing to you again for the fourth time in less than a week?

The Jimin you’ve gotten to know recently seems to disappear, leaving on the smooth talking playboy in his wake. He seems too calculated to be genuine. The words he whispers don’t seem like words meant for you. He is him, after all, and money or not he’s still the greatest catch on campus. And you, much to your dismay, are still just you. Unassuming, uninteresting, unexciting you. You’re the plain vanilla cone he’d never ask for if he had the means to get the banana split.

“Why?” you skeptically ask, pulling your knees up to your chest.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth while he thinks. “You’re special,” he says. “You’re cute and funny and I like spending time with you. You make me feel like I can be myself with you.”

“But you don’t trust me?” you ask, obviously referring to the elephant in the room. He didn’t tell you he was essentially homeless. How much of himself can he truly be if he was keeping that from you?

“I didn’t want to scare you away, and most girls I… see, don’t get close enough to find out,” he confesses. “I can’t afford to take anyone out right now. I haven’t been able to for a while. But I’m so close to getting enough for an apartment. That’s why I took the TA job; at the end of the semester I should be ready.”

“Jimin,” you start, unsure what to say. You’re still thinking about that goddamned three dollar ice cream cone you threw away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you, standing up. “I just wanted to be real with you, and thank you for agreeing to let me have the couch for a few days. I’ll let you sleep.”

“Wait!”

As you scramble over yourself to reach out, you find yourself on your knees awkwardly clutching your hand towards your chest. You’re still worried about seeming desperate but you can’t let that stop you now. Jimin turns toward you, but you’re unsure of what you wanted to say. You only know that you want to be closer to him too, that you’re not ready for him to go, that if he leaves now you’ll lie awake for the rest of the night reliving this short conversation.

“Stay,” you plead, nervously twirling the string of your hoodie around your fingers as you sit back against the pillows. “Talk to me?”

“Aren’t you tired?” he wonders.

You hold out your hand and he crosses the room to take it, standing next to your bed. You pat the space next to you and tug him toward it. “Wide awake.”

Your yawn says otherwise.

Jimin smiles, climbing over you to lay by your side on top of your blankets. He looks at you expectantly once he’s settled but it’s too much pressure for you to lead the conversation. You only know that you want to keep hearing his soothing voice. You have no idea what you wanted to say.

“You look cute,” he says, breaking the silence and touching your nose with the tip of his finger. “Sleepy and soft.”

“You look sexy,” you complain, waving his hand away. “I kinda wanna punch you for it.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “So feisty.”

“I can be boring instead,” you jokingly offer, rolling on your side to face him.

He does his best to keep his eyes trained on your face, despite the fact that all he wants to do is let them wander down. “I just want you to be you.”

That sounds fake. Again, you battle against the idea that this is all a farce, some sneaky way to get into your pants once and leave you wanting for the rest of your life. He hasn’t bared himself to you enough for you to trust him, so you pry.

“Why’d your parents cut you off, Jimin?” you ask.

He looks at you for a second, stunned at your boldness. That’s definitely not where he thought this conversation was going. He takes a moment to prepare his response and sighs.

“They have this restaurant. It’s a small place right off the coast: Jeongsik. My great grandparents started it from nothing and now my parents manage it. They want me to take over since I’m the eldest, but I want to move to the city and have my own life. I don’t want to work in their restaurant forever and my brother loves it and is perfectly capable. They love me. I know they’re just trying to teach me a lesson,” he tells you. He sounds unsure of that last bit. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s got nowhere to live and he’s penny pinching for meals and they’re shunning him.

“And what is that lesson, Jimin?” you ask, trying to dig deeper before he slips back into playboy mode.

“That being a part of Jeongsik is my only option if I want to be successful. That I can’t make it without them.”

“Can you?” The question is quiet and unassuming. You only want to know how bad it really is.

He takes a deep breath and taps his fingers anxiously against the fabric of the pillow. “I can. It won’t be the same, it won’t be easy, but I can.”

After giving Jimin a moment to say more, which he doesn’t take, you push him further. With your heart on the line and this miracle of an opportunity with him in your room, you're determined to learn as much as you can. You need to get under his skin. You need to know him, so you can know if you should run.

"What's your plan then?" you question, shifting closer so you're face to face against the pillows.

Jimin smirks at your line of questioning. It seems to break him from his thoughts. “Well,” he begins. “The Village has some one bedrooms opening up at the end of the semester, and by then I’ll be ready to make a deposit and lease one. After that I’ve got one semester left until I graduate. Then I’ll move to the city and live my life how I want.”

“Won’t you miss your family?”

“They still talk to me. They’re just not paying for school. Or my car. Or my food.” His heavy sigh at the end contradicts the lightness with which he revealed all of this to you.

“I’m sorry, Jimin.” You reach for his hand, familiarity in the way it fits with yours.

“It’s okay. I have good friends, and I have…” he trails off, catching himself and looking away with an awkward huff of a laugh.

“What?” you wonder, heart fluttering at the possibility that he was about to say ‘you.’ “What else do you have?”

Jimin looks up at you, rising up on his elbow. His eyes search your face for any hint of rejection. When he finds only hope, his hand moves to cup your cheek. It’s warm, adorned with rings that contrast the temperature of his skin.

“You,” he breathes, moving closer. You watch his gaze dart down to your lips before your own eyelids flutter closed. “I was going to say you,” he confesses before he closes the space between you and lays a soft kiss against your waiting lips.

He pulls away way too fast, leaving you to panic in the aftermath. You thought you had feelings for him before, but now that he’s let you in, now that he has shown you his heart, there is nothing more to deny. You’ve fallen, hard. The realization makes you feel trapped, like a frantic dying bird in a cage. But your captor is kind and beautiful and the flavor he left on your lips is the most divine thing you’ve ever tasted.

“Then say it,” you prompt him, urging him to accept the affection you’ve been so desperate to give him.

He kisses you again in lieu of words, longer, deeper, until his tongue is dragging over yours. You fist the material of his hoodie in your hands, pulling him towards you while you turn on your back. He’s hesitant to get on top of you, afraid he might be taking it too far, but you’re insistent. You pull and he caves willingly, slotting a leg between yours and letting his hand drift from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“I like you,” he pants when he breaks away. It feels like your heart flies up out of your chest and does a lap around the room, flapping its hummingbird wings like the wild thing it is before it crashes back into its place.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you plead. “You don’t have to pretend just because you’re here now. I’m a big girl. We can just have tonight.”

You say the words but you know if he leaves tomorrow, you’ll cry all day and probably the day after that too. The truth is, you can talk all you want about how you can do this no strings attached, but you know you can’t. Your strings are so attached to him at this point you might as well be metaphorical shibari.

“I mean it,” he whispers, full, wet lips brushing the side of your neck.

You freeze. You were expecting him to drop the charade and just fuck you or something, but in this moment he exudes tenderness and consideration.

“And because I like you, I think I should go back to the couch before we do something we aren’t ready to do.”

“Stay,” you plead. “We don’t have to do anything, just lay with me.”

He slowly nods and reaches over you to turn off the lamp, planting a soft kiss on your cheek as he settles back into place. You wiggle your form down into the covers and he smoothes the hair from your face before tracing his fingers down your arm. You lean in close enough to smell the subtle clean scent of his cologne. Is it cologne? You doubt it knowing what you know now, unless he’s borrowing it from someone else. You still find yourself enjoying it nonetheless. It’s comforting. Sleep begins to claim you just as he slips his fingers into yours and gives you a tiny squeeze.

“Goodnight y/n.”

You think you respond but you’re in that purgatory state between sleeping and being awake, so you can’t be sure. At least you’re eighty percent sure you gave him a squeeze in return.

That’s how Yoongi finds you in the morning: you tucked neatly into your comforter and Jimin laying on top of it beside you, your hands clasped together in the middle.

“UM!” Yoongi shouts from the doorway, loud enough to wake you both.

Startled, you sit up in bed and look around for the source of the shout. “Fuck! Yoon. You didn’t need to scream.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to keep this from Taehyung,” Yoongi chides, looking from you to Jimin and back. “That would be quite the moral conundrum.”

“For fuck’s sake. It was never Tae. I am not seeing Tae. We are JUST FRIENDS!” You yell the last two words and chuck your pillow at him for emphasis.

“Okay cool, then Jimin can explain to him whatever this is to him. Jimin, he wants you to call him. My phone’s on the table. I’m taking a shower.”

Yoongi disappears from the doorway and an uncomfortable silence settles over the room. In the light of day, you feel nervous and uncertain. Jimin does nothing to ease your anxiety. He just lays there quietly, unsure what to say.

“Do you want breakfast?” You try to smile and sound as chipper as possible.

He sits up finally and turns his back to you. “I should go see Taehyung.”

He moves toward the door and you feel your chest tighten. “Jimin?”

He turns to you from the hallway, and taking in your confused expression, offers you a smile. “We’re good, princess. I’ll be back tonight, then me and you: party time.” He winks before moving out of sight.

Alone once again, you start to question things. Everything. Are you imagining things or did Jimin seem cold when he left? He kissed you last night, didn’t he? Was everything you talked about too much? Does he regret kissing you? Does he regret staying the night with you without getting anything out of it? You can feel your thoughts spiraling out of control, but you can’t stop yourself from putting up the walls you so desperately wanted to keep down forever last night. It obviously didn’t mean anything to him, despite his claim that he likes you. He probably just meant that he’d like to fool around with you. Like he does with everyone else. You can’t let one night beside him make you think you’re special to him, no matter how badly you want to be.

Knowing you won’t make it through the day without driving yourself completely mad with questions and doubts, you dig your old phone and charger out of a drawer and go after Jimin. He’s leaning over the kitchen counter staring down at Yoongi’s phone when you steal his attention.

“Please take this,” you plead, thrusting the phone and charger towards him.

He looks from the device to you and blinks a few times in surprise. “What?”

“It’s a little old, but if your sim card didn’t get damaged I’m sure it will work in this. I kept putting off bringing it to be recycled.” You laugh nervously as you try to place it in his hand. “But now I’m glad I didn’t. Take it.”

“I can’t accept this, princess. It’s too much,” Jimin says, staring down at the object in your hands.

“Take it for me. If I have to go another day without being able to send you memes I’ll die.”

“Memes?” he repeats, sounding baffled.

“Memes, nudes, the weather forecast. Who cares? I wanna text you. Please take it.”

He licks his lips and smirks at your joke. Was it a joke? It’s hard to tell. He accepts it anyway. “Thank you. I’ll call you later?”

“You’d better,” you tease, offering the grandest smile you can manage before retreating with a slow saunter back to your room.

There’s that view again. He could watch your ass sway in those teeny shorts all day. It takes every last ounce of self control he possesses to pick up Yoongi’s phone and dial Tae rather than sprint back into your room and pin you to the bed. It doesn’t stop him from daydreaming about it though, even as his friend answers.

“What are we doing?” Jimin stands in the sprawling living room of Taehyung and Jungkook’s shared apartment. Both are from wealthy families that are all too ready to give their sons everything that matches the silver spoons in their mouths. They’ve been blessed with a bachelor pad that looks more like a college movie set than anything normal one would find around campus.

“Pick up a controller,” Tae tells Jimin, completely absorbed in the race on their oversized flat screen TV.

Jungkook hasn’t even acknowledged Jimin’s presence yet. Focused doesn’t even begin to describe the way his eyes bore into the television. He doesn’t break from his trance until he wins. Only then does he sit back with a smug grin, dropping the controller in his lap and just barely resisting the urge to gloat.

Taehyung drops his controller too, turning to give Jungkook a congratulatory fist bump. “Take his place,” he says to Jimin.

Jungkook has already vacated his place on the hallowed futon and moved to the row of cup noodles sitting on the counter. The first cup is half empty before Jimin even sits down.

“I suck at these games, Tae,” Jimin grumbles.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to be good. It’s a ploy to get you relaxed enough to talk about y/n.” Taehyung smiles, knowing Jimin can’t refuse now that he’s cornered.

“What about her?” He feigns nonchalance, as if he didn’t just spend last night catching feelings along with your lips between his own.

Taehyung scoffs, half bewildered, half disgusted. “Come on, Jimin. She’s amazing. You like her.”

“I barely know her,” Jimin replies. It’s a lie he can taste like copper on his tongue. He knows your favorite food, where you grew up, what you study, and he’s already programmed your birthday into his borrowed phone so he won’t forget.

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Okay then. If you don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna shoot my shot. She’s funny, and nice, and her pussy is so bomb it makes me wanna get married, so if you’re not gonna do something about that then I will.”

Jungkook cackles from the kitchen. “Did you fuck Jimin’s girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” Jimin grumbles, staring daggers at Jungkook, just as Taehyung says that he did not.

Jungkook takes his armload of cup noodles into his bedroom.

“I know you like her,” Tae prods. “She’s not some materialistic bitch who’s gonna leave you if you can’t afford lavish dates every other day. She’s a good, genuine person. She just wants your time and your attention. Maybe your heart. She doesn’t care about the other stuff.”

“Yeah? So I can bring her back to this futon after I buy her dinner from the dollar menu?” Jimin’s nose starts to tingle, months worth of frustrations finally reaching a breaking point. “I can’t get in a relationship right now and you know she’s not a fuckbuddy kind of girl.

“Right, because I didn’t eat her out in my car for fun last week.” He’d date you in a heartbeat if you wanted him. But he knows it’s Jimin you want and he��s more than happy to push the two of you together to see you both happy. He values friendship above all things.

“If that’s all you want from her, fine. But I think you and I both know it’s not and she’s too good for you to string along. If you’re just gonna break her heart, do it now before she falls any harder for you.”

“Why, so you can swoop in and be the good guy again? So you can get her off in your backseat?” The words are venom dripping from his mouth.

“Bro.”

Jimin softens. Tae is his dearest friend. He knows he only has his best interests at heart.

“I’m sorry.” He pauses and sighs. “We talked about Jeongsik last night. She knows my parents cut me off.”

Taehyung grimaces. “How’d that go?”

“Now she knows I’m not good enough but it didn’t seem to deter her at all.”

“‘Cause you are good enough and now she can see your true worth as a person, which is a thousand times better than the fake worth of money.”

Jimin seems to consider this for a moment but then expresses the concern gnawing at his insides. “What if she really is just another person who wants to idolize me? I’m really into her, but I need it to be more than that.”

“Jimin—”

“What if she’s after the meaningless title of being Park Jimin’s girl... like every other girl that has pursued me lately?” The words make him cringe. He’s humble and kind, not one to throw bouquets at himself, but those thoughts are intrusive and hard to ignore.

“Tch. Do you know her at all? Do you really think that matters to her?”

“No,” Jimin sighs. “But what if?”

“She admires you. You like her. Stop making it so complicated and let go of those ifs. You’ll never know if you don’t try and I want to see you try because you deserve to be happy,” Tae insists, starting a new game. “Now pick up that controller. I wanna kick your ass.”

You’ve spent the better part of your Saturday afternoon picking out your outfit for tonight. Yoongi only teased you twice before helping you select something a little bit more slutty than you’d normally pull out for a date. You’re going to a party after all, not some Sunday brunch with your friends.

When it’s almost time for you to meet up with Jimin you find yourself growing increasingly nervous. You run your hand over your thigh and down your calf, testing for any stubble you might have missed in your meticulous hour-long shaving session. On your way back up you tug on your skirt, eyeing it as though your gaze can simply increase its length. When was the last time you wore this dress?

You adjust and fuss over the way your tits fit inside the garment and puff air out of your cheeks. Yoongi squints at you from across the room. Your door is wide open after all.

“Stop worrying so much.” He sighs and clicks his tongue, crossing the room until he can see you in perfect clarity. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid. I should change. Jimin’s gonna think I’m weird if I wear this.” You try to turn and run back to your closet.

Yoongi plants his hands on your shoulders and spins you back to face the full-length mirror hanging over your door. “Look at yourself. Jimin’s gonna think you’re the hottest one at the party. Look at that makeup game.” He gestures to your face. “Wooo! So strong! Wow!”

Your lips twitch into a smile. Yoongi can be so sweet when he’s not busy pretending like he isn’t the softest man on earth.

“What if he doesn’t actually want me?” you ask, strings of doubt still plucking at your insecurity.

“He does,” he says with all the comfort you need in this moment. “I can tell with these kinds of things, you know.”

“That your like, weird sage sense you’re always telling me about? Reading the horoscopes doesn’t make you a fortune teller.”

He laughs. “Don’t be jealous of my power. Have I been wrong before?”

He hasn’t been, at least not with the advice he’s given you.

You exhale a huge breath and cock your head to inspect your appearance one more time. “What if you’re wrong?”

He hums a soft sound before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Then he’s an idiot.”

A knock saves him from the overbearing hug you’re about to give him. He practically sprints towards the door. “That must be him! Pull your skirt up a little, would you? You’re not a nun and it’s gonna ride up anyway.” He pauses with his hand on the deadbolt and drops his tone to a rather loud, strained whisper. “Wait. What underwear are you wearing?”

Your eyes widen and your brows furrow as you angrily march over to your strappy heels and begin to put them on. “Why does it matter?” you whisper back.

“Are they the beige ones?”

“No!” Your hushed tone threatens to break into a shriek. “You know those are my period panties.”

“Please tell me they’re not the green ones.”

“Yoongi!” You get frustrated and lift your skirt just enough to show off a bit of the black lace adorning your buttcheeks as you lift your foot onto the nearby stool to finish setting the strap in place. “Satisfied?”

He breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Good. Those are good.”

He opens the door faster than you can register the action. Jimin catches the flash of lace and more skin than he’s meant to see as you swing your leg down off the stool and adjust your dress. Heat flushes your face as you meet Jimin’s gaze. His eyes are wide and he licks his lips before nervously clearing his throat. He nonchalantly drops his hands and holds them together in front of his pelvis.

“You-You look good,” he stammers, completely stunned by your appearance.

“Thanks,” you reply with a shy smile. Park Jimin gets flustered? Who’d have thought?

He thought you were beautiful before but he’s never seen you like this. You’re completely decked out and drop dead gorgeous. He’s almost worried he’ll feel inadequate standing next to you tonight but it doesn’t stop him from wanting you by his side, hanging on his arm. He wants everyone to know that he’s there with you.

The pair of you stand there looking at one another and Yoongi slowly turns from Jimin to you, then back to Jimin.

“Have everything?” Yoongi prods, trying to get you to move so he can get on with his evening of relaxation and lazing about.

That seems to break you from your stupor and you nod and walk forward to hook your arm around Jimin’s. Before you get too far Yoongi calls to you and tests your reflexes by tossing your keys. You’ll need those if Yoongi is dead to the world asleep by the time you get home, which is quite possible. You’re not the most dextrous person but Jimin catches them and smiles at you. When you try to take them from his fingertip he moves his hand away and you swipe at the air. He offers to keep them in his pocket and you gratefully oblige. You pull your phone from its confines against your breast and check on the status of your uber with one hand while slipping your other into Jimin’s.

Jin’s party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. It looks like something out of a movie. There are glowsticks, red solo cups, a buffet table of snacks, and loud music by the large inground pool. People inside and outside of this big ass frat house are grinding up on each other, dancing, and spilling their drinks on one another. It’s a little overwhelming honestly. You’ve never been much of a party person and this is a monster-sized one.

Jimin takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring smile. “You want a drink, princess?”

“Yeah.” You grin and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling your insides melt at the sound of his voice. You know whatever happens tonight you’ll be okay with him by your side.

Jimin keeps you close all night, drinking and dancing and stealing the occasional quick kiss. It's pretty clear to everyone who's paying attention that there's something going on between you. You came with Jimin, you're there with Jimin, you're leaving with Jimin. Either Jungkook wasn't paying attention, or he just plain doesn't care. The moment Jimin leaves you alone to run to the bathroom, Jungkook steps up behind you in the chair you’re sitting on.

"Hey, y/n!" He smiles, all teeth and sleepy eyes. You can smell the whiskey on his breath when you turn to face him. "You look so pretty tonight."

"Thanks, Kook." You know he's one of Jimin and Tae’s closest friends. If you just hang with him until Jimin gets back, you'll be able to avoid the advances of all the weird guys here you aren't familiar with. "I like your boots," you tell him, looking down.

He follows your gaze to his feet. "Me too, I hope no one barfs on them tonight," he laughs, lifting his face back up to yours. The words are slightly slurred but you’re still able to decipher them.

His eyes definitely linger on your cleavage on their way back up. By the looks of it, he's on the short list of people who might end up barfing on those shoes. He holds his liquor well, but if you had to guess you'd say he's had more than he should have at this point in the night.

"So, I was talking to Taehyung recently," he starts with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The rest of his sentence seems to get lost in translation on the way to his mouth.

"And?" You smile at him and realize he’s probably too drunk to have anything of worth to say but you wait anyway.

"He told me something." Jungkook smiles so big his nose crinkles and he giggles like it’s the biggest secret in the universe.

You puzzle for a moment over what could have him so giddy before remembering that Taehyung is intimately familiar with your o-face. You'd gotten so close with him over the last two weeks that the details of your first time hanging out had completely slipped your mind. Jungkook is definitely about to say something crass.

"What did he tell you?" you ask, fearing you already know the answer.

Jungkook leans in closer so he can whisper in your ear. An amused giggle spills from his lips like he can’t contain the punchline to a joke only he knows. Somehow he gets his tone under control and finally speaks. "He told me your pussy tastes like heaven and what a coincidence," he pauses, "I haven't had dessert."

Jimin finds his way back to you just as you've moved to elbow Jungkook off your chair. Unfortunately, the alcohol in your system has your brain a little fuzzy and you misjudge the distance and location. You end up elbowing Jungkook right in the dick. Hard.

A circle clears around you as Jungkook doubles over in pain. Jimin steps up next to you, looking down at his friend and trying to piece together what might have led to you inflicting bodily harm.

Jungkook goes from bending over, to squatting, to laying on his side on the floor. He rolls onto his back still clutching the jewels despite the audience of people who have stopped to observe.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he squeaks out.

“Watch the boots,” you remind him as Jimin leans down to help him up and leads him towards something he can barf in. Through the crowd of people, you can see him just barely make it to a trash can in the kitchen. Gross.

Jimin gives Jungkook a pat on the back as he retches and reaches over him to grab a handful of jello shots off the counter. He returns with the rainbow of little cups clutched in each hand. The crowd seems to go back to their business of dancing and talking amongst one another, the random altercation just a fleeting moment in the night.

"What'd he do?" Jimin asks, holding his hand out to you so that you can make your selection.

"He came on to me." You shrug, picking a blue cup and popping the lid off.

"That's it? You elbowed him in the balls for hitting on you?" Jimin raises his eyebrows in shock and laughs.

"Well, it was kind of an accident. But," you pause to bring the plastic shot glass up to your lips, "he insinuated that he wanted to go down on me." You dip your tongue into the Jello and swirl it around the perimeter of its plastic casing.

Jimin watches you gather all the Jello up onto your tongue with rapt attention. He's growing so hard watching your tongue work like that. It’s driving him insane. He wants to feel it on him instead. He’s also now acutely aware of how badly he wants to swirl his tongue around your cunt, just like that.

"That makes two of us," he confesses with an enamored sigh. His hands are still full of Jello shots but that doesn’t stop him from holding your face between them.

He fiercely smashes his mouth to yours and you cave to the welcome intrusion of his tongue. It presses against yours, curling around it as he sucks the blue raspberry flavor from your mouth. You drop the empty cup to the floor and reach for his belt instead, pulling him against you until you can feel him pressed up against your stomach, hard and needy. He grinds his pelvis against you to be sure you can feel him.

“You feel that baby?” he asks, his tone low and sultry.

You grind back with a muffled hum. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re practically dry-humping each other next to the crowd of other sweaty, writhing couples. While Jimin likes how this feels, he’d like to regain the use of his hands. Jello shots be damned.

He pulls away for a second and looks around, depositing all but one of the unopened cups into the hands of the next person that walks by before he squeezes the chosen red one out on his tongue. He leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again. You can still taste artificial strawberry on his tongue. You're not even sure he swallowed before you started trying to lick his tonsils but you don't care. You want him now. You need him.

His thoughts are much the same as his free hand wanders down your back, dipping lower for just a second to feel the curve of your ass and squeeze. When you gasp he takes a step back and looks at you through hazy lust-drunk eyes. His lips are red from the gelatinous treat. You’d love to try and suck the color right out of them.

"Princess," he pants, his hands grabbing at your hips.

"Jimin," you breathe back, pulling him closer again. "Come home with me." It's not really an invitation. He'd be coming back with you anyway since he's currently living on your couch, but this has a different meaning and you both know it. It’s a plea for him to take you to bed.

You make out on the front lawn while you wait for the uber. You make out in the back of the uber on your way home. You make out on the way up the stairs and you leave a heart shaped love bite on his neck while he uses your keys to open the door. You make out pressed against the kitchen counter, and in the hallway.

Yoongi watches the pair of you act like he’s invisible as you stumble your way around the apartment. He has a spoonful of Fruit Loops half-lifted to his gaping mouth and finally takes his bite when you’ve made it to your room. Thank god you closed the door.

Jimin isn't as shy this time about laying his weight over you once you’ve dropped down onto your bed. You’re warm and he seeks the heat of your body as your hands explore the taught muscles of his chest. They dance around his belt, slipping up over the curve of his perfectly round ass so you can squeeze and pull him against you, inviting him to grind his solid cock into you. Your movements get slower and more focused when you unbutton his shirt. He tugs it off his shoulders and throws it to the floor before helping you pull that tiny excuse of a dress over your head.

You're thanking your lucky stars you had the foresight to put on a matching set, despite how foolishly hopeful it felt at the time. The way Jimin is drinking you in wrapped in nothing but a little bit of black lace is making your head spin, or maybe that's the alcohol.

He sits back on his heels beside you, trailing his fingertips from your throat to the valley between your breasts. He skims over your belly button then side sweeps over your hip and down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

"Wanna take those heels off, princess?" he asks, scooting toward them on his knees.

"I can do it," you insist, planning on making a show of dropping what's left of your modesty. You aren't counting on the way the room turns when you stand up too fast. Luckily, Jimin's reflexes are quick and his hands on your hips steady you before you can actually fall. Standing up is also doing something terrible to your stomach. It rolls and clenches and your anxiety skyrockets.

Parties aren't really your thing, and while Jimin might be drunk he is damn good at controlling it. On the contrary, it's becoming increasingly apparent that you are completely hammered.

"You okay?" Jimin asks, concern dripping from his tone. He stands up and turns you both so you can sit on the edge of your bed.

"I think... I'm drunk," you confess, unable to explain why you suddenly feel like crying.

"I think you're right, baby," he agrees, squatting down to unbuckle the ankle straps on your heels. "Let's get you some water."

Your stomach flips again and time slows as you feel the contents of the evening rise in the back of your throat. Panicking, you look to Jimin with wide eyes and a hand flying up to your mouth. He spins around looking for anything to catch what's surely coming and upends your little trash can. Candy wrappers and old class notes fall to the floor. He thrusts the can under your face just as a rainbow of Jello shots and reappears.

"I'm so sorry," you cry between heaves, tears streaking your make-up down your face.

"Shhh," Jimin soothes, gathering your hair away from your face. When he's sure you've finished, he disappears from the bedroom with the offending trash can and you're left with your horrible, alcohol twisted thoughts.

He's going to think you're pathetic and disgusting. Why on earth did you think you could drink that much?

Jimin returns with a glass of water before you can get much further into your self-deprecation.

"You're never gonna fuck me now," you blabber, your filter lost. Your thoughts are a jumble of sadness and muddled lust.

Jimin laughs. "Well, I'm definitely not gonna fuck you like this. I didn't realize you were this drunk," he softly says. It's a caring statement, not even a little bit condescending.

You should be grateful that he wants you sober for sex, but it only makes you cry harder because you really just want him so badly and you're absolutely certain you've ruined your chances beyond repair. So, you do the only thing that makes sense right now and cry harder.

Jimin wraps his arms around you and leans close to your ear. "I want to, you know. I want to lay you down and touch you all over." He presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "I want to taste you, feel you. I want to be inside you so badly, but not like this."

"Please," you whine.

"Sober up first, okay?" he coaxes. "Can I help you get some pajamas? Brush your teeth?"

"Okay," you sniffle.

Jimin smooths his hand up your back, tracing the black lace band of your bra with the tip of his finger. “Do you want to take this off?”

You nod, reaching behind you to unfasten the clasp while Jimin reaches down to the floor for the button down shirt he discarded. He averts his eyes while you shed your bra, then holds his shirt open for you. You slip into it but don’t bother to button it up before walking to your door. He helps you get to the bathroom but you insist on doing it yourself so you can clean up and assess just how fucked up you really look right now.

When you close the door behind you, he makes sure to quietly apologize to Yoongi, who is still scrubbing the trash bin Jimin brought out earlier. Yoongi reaches into the cabinet for the bottle of Advil and gestures to a glass of water already on the counter.

Jimin waits for you to open the door and when you finally do he's relieved that you haven't fallen asleep. You've washed the makeup from your tear-streaked face and brushed your teeth. You've even pulled your hair back so it's no longer in the way. You look at him through a hazy apologetic lens as he offers you Advil and water. The last thing you want to do is ingest anything but if it will help you in the morning, you'll try it for his sake.

The journey from the bathroom back into your room is a blur. All you can think about is crawling back into bed and sleeping this awful feeling away. You struggle with the covers for a moment until Jimin helps you slide underneath them.

"I'm sorry. Don't hate me," you plead in a weak voice.

"Why are you sorry? I don't hate you," he assures you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He's shirtless. He could have been naked pounding your pussy stupid if you didn't overdo it on the drinks. You hate yourself a little bit for botching this chance, but if he could just put his arms around you again maybe you’d feel okay, like you didn’t blow it.

"Will you hold me?" you ask.

“Of course,” he replies softly.

The light in the room disappears and the mattress sinks behind you. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and his fingers twine with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers when you squeeze his hand.

The heat of his breath brushes against your neck but you don’t close your eyes. You’re too dizzy. Instead you focus on the soothing rhythm of his breathing until the weight of your eyelids wins out against the nausea and sleep finally claims you.

Your ringtone wakes you late, when the sun in your room is far too bright to be any time before ten. The sound is grating and irritating and you pull your pillow over your head to block it out. Jimin reaches for the phone, you can feel his weight shift and the heat of his skin when he hovers over you.

"Hello?" His voice is gruff and coarse with sleep.

Peeking out from beneath the pillow, you look over to him. His eyes are still closed and your phone is laying on his bare chest, speaker on and screen lit up.

"Gimme your bae," Jungkook's voice calls through the phone.

"She's sleeping," Jimin tells him. Looking in your direction, he meets your eyes and smiles.

You vaguely remember him making you drink more water last night, giving you Advil, and tucking you in. It's a very pleasant surprise to find that you aren’t horribly hungover.

"Wake her up," Jungkook whines. "Bro. She hit me so hard."

Jimin laughs. "You deserved it."

"I know," Jungkook agrees. "That's why I'm calling. Can I talk to her please?"

"You're on speaker."

"Hi, y/n. I got your number from Tae."

"Hi Kook," you croak.

"I'm sorry I was a douche last night. I get stupid when I drink whiskey."

"I accept your apology. Don’t do it again. How's your dick?" you ask, scooting closer to Jimin and laying your cheek on his chest. He wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head. The gesture makes you feel warm all over. He likes you.

"It hurts but I'll live. Sorry. For real. Do you guys wanna go eat later?" he asks you both.

Jimin answers this time. "Maybe. We have stuff to do first. I'll text you." He hangs up before Jungkook can say more.

“What stuff are we doing, hmm?” you question with a giggle, trying to play coy.

“Depends how you’re feeling, princess,” Jimin replies, leaning over you again to deposit your phone on your nightstand. He lingers above you, prompting the cautious exploration of your fingers on his chest.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the awful taste in your mouth. In fact, you feel gross all over. Not exactly the way you want to experience sex with Jimin for the first time.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you tell him, wiggling out from under his body. “You must think I am the worst, most unattractive human.”

“No,” Jimin says with a giggle. “I think you’re sexy and sweet. I really like you y/n.”

“Nobody likes me.” You scoff at him in disbelief.

“It’s rude to call people nobodies, don’t you think? Especially when they’ve just confessed their feelings,” Jimin teases, sitting up beside you.

“Well, let me at least brush my teeth,” you tell him, holding his shirt closed around you while you rise from the bed. You step around the clean trash can that’s been placed at the side of your bed thanks to Yoongi, noting that there is also a neat row of condoms on your nightstand and a note that reads ‘be done by 5 i wanna watch Dragonball Z after work.’

You laugh and quickly take care of your morning bathroom routine in record time so you can make use of Yoongi’s gift.

When you come back to your room, Jimin is watching you. His lips are drawn down in a pout, his eyes are half closed, and his chest, still bare, rises and falls heavily with each breath he takes as he rakes his eyes over your bare legs and up. His shirt hangs open on your body, leaving a strip of skin visible from your throat to your panties. He licks his lips when your fingers drag a slow line up that strip.

Parting the soft fabric further, you let it fall from your shoulders and pool around your feet. Jimin sits up for a better view and you wait for embarrassment to strike. It never happens. Instead, his gaze emboldens you. He looks wrecked already and he hasn't even touched you yet.

“So beautiful,” he whispers.

His assurance pulls you forward, one foot in front of the other until you’re close enough to touch and his hands are on your hips as you climb over him. He leans back under you as you push forward, connecting your lips with a force that borders on overeager. You can feel him smile against your lips and self-consciously, you will yourself to calm down. You have all day, there’s no need to rush.

When your kisses become soft and patient Jimin decides to take the initiative. He has to have you. He wants to be inside you. He sits up and sinks his hands into the flesh of your ass and begins to pull you down so he can grind up against your clothed cunt. When you moan his eyes roll back for a second and he buries his face into your neck to muffle the sound of his own. His tongue works in circles against you, giving you a taste of what’s to come before sucking a spot that has you burying your hand in his hair and grinding yourself down on him with need. He licks a hot stripe to your ear so he can whisper in it. In an instant he’s flipping you around on your back and grinding his pelvis against yours, allowing the dark desire to consume him.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling my cock on that sweet pussy of yours?”

“Yeah,” you whine, circling your legs around his hips. You can’t manage much more than that breathy reply, he is intoxicating and already you are drunk on his fumes.

“I hear it’s the sweetest. Made me so fucking jealous to hear Tae talk about you like that. You’ll let me have a taste, won’t you? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

“God did Tae just go around telling everyone?” you pause when the friction rubs against your clit just right. “Oh fuck,” you moan, imaging the pillowy soft press of his lips on your more intimate areas.

He chuckles in response. “No,” he assures you. “Just Jungkook and me. Don’t worry,” he says, persuading you with a careful roll of his hips that has his shaft parting your folds despite the layers of clothing between you. “He won’t talk about it anymore, and you’ll forget all about it by the time we’re done here. I’m gonna eat your sweet little cunt until mine are the only lips you remember.”

“Please,” you whimper, drawing him into a needy kiss.

His fingers dip into the band of your panties and he teases and tugs at them until you’re squirming and begging him to take them off. His lips trail wet kisses down to your breasts and he pauses to take your nipple into his mouth as he carefully works your last remaining piece of clothing down your legs.

Nudging your legs apart again, he settles between them, ghosting the pads of his fingers up the inside of your thigh as he drags your nipple gently with his teeth. He switches to repeat the action on the other side and cautiously slips a finger between your folds, parting them and testing your wetness. Much to his delight, he already finds you soaked.

“Jimin,” you breathe out. “Please.”

“Be patient for me, princess. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He sits back on his knees between your thighs and uses his thumbs to smear your arousal over your lips. He groans something deep and tortured when he spreads them open.

“Y/n, holy fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect. So perfect.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his praise. It feels like some kind of worship the way he looks down at your cunt, watching his fingers disappear inside you. His satisfied hum is like a hymn to the divine way your hot, slick walls squeeze him, a prayer to the mere idea of having that wet heat wrapped around his needy cock.

“Tae didn’t tell me you were so tight,” Jimin admits, looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“He only used his mouth,” you tell him, throwing your arm over your eyes. “I’ll never forget his lips if you keep talking about him.”

That seems to spark a fire in Jimin. His eyes grow dark and wild. He wants to ruin you. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh and begins sucking marks into the soft flesh while his fingers continue to pump inside of you. He slowly works his way down, making sure the red spots he leaves behind are sufficient enough to last for days. He makes sure you’ll have the reminder of his face between your legs every time you look down.

“Jimin don’t tease,” you beg, bucking your hips up to seek the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not teasing,” he chides. “I am savoring.” He curls his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit, making your legs jolt. “Trust the process.”

“Jimin--,” you start again, but you’re cut off by the first touch of his lips. It’s barely there, just the ghost of a kiss on your mound. It’s immediately followed by the flat of his tongue, pressing down as he moves it lower, slipping his fingers out as he descends. His tongue parts your folds instead, circling your dripping hole and then dipping inside it.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “Fuck, you’re sweet.” He spreads you with his thumbs again and goes back for more, lapping at your wet cunt, swirling around your clit, sucking your folds into his lips. But it’s not just the action, it’s the drive behind it. He’s insatiable, moaning at the taste, bucking his hips into the mattress when you whine for him.

Your fingers tangle through his silver hair, twisting and pulling as he devotes himself to your undoing. He moves with you when you grind up against his jaw, stealing a glance up at your face. Jimin feels his cock twitch at the sight of you; breasts heaving, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut. He’s leaking so much precum he can feel it soaking through his boxer-briefs. He’s almost afraid he’s going to lose it and cum in his pants.

“You gonna cum for me, princess?” he asks, lifting his face to push his fingers back inside. He pumps them hard, curling and searching for that elusive spot while he presses soft kisses to your clit. He alternates between flicking his tongue and rubbing against it with his lips, pausing every few seconds to whisper encouragements with warm breath puffed over your swollen bud.

“Come on, baby. Do it for me. Cum for me, princess. Let me taste it.”

“Please Jimin. Pleeeeease. I need you to suck it. Suck it harder,” you beg. “Right there. There! Don’t stop! Please! I’m so close.”

Jimin keeps steady for you despite your trembling thighs. He pounds your g-spot while he sucks as hard as you can take. Your mind goes totally blank, consumed by an orgasm so powerful you can see fireworks bursting behind your eyelids. Heat spreads from your core down your legs, up your spine.

“I’m cu— cumming— Jimiiiiin!” you cry, legs trapping his head like a vice. Your fingers leave his hair in favor of squeezing at your breasts as you ride out your orgasm. You buck your hips when he doesn’t let up after you’ve come down from your high.

“Take your pants off,” you pant, shoving at his head.

He finally pops off with a grin, his chin and lips covered in your slick.

“What if I’m not finished down here?” he teases, dipping his head back down to lick a stripe up your slit. Your whole body jumps when he touches your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Oh?” he feigns shock. “Sensitive?” he smugly asks, going back for one more taste.

“I wanna suck your cock,” you tell him, lazily pulling your legs up and turning your body away from him. You keep your eyes on him as you turn just enough to hang your head off the edge of the bed.

“Are you for real right now?” he asks, standing slowly. The tent in his pants is obscene.

“Please, Jimin. Just a little bit?”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he sighs, tugging the zipper down on his jeans and letting them and his underwear fall to his ankles. He kicks them off and steps in front of you, smiling down at your upside down face, a little dumbfounded to have you wanting and willing to have him like this.

Your mouth waters at the sight of the swollen mauve tip standing at attention. He’s rock hard and so thick you’re not sure you can take him in your mouth, or your cunt for that matter. You’re glad he warmed you up with his fingers because you’re already clenching tight at the thought of that thick cock splitting you in two.

He reaches for the row of condoms as you take him in your hand and give him a few pumps. Just as he rips off one of the packets, you guide him towards the entrance of your mouth. You swirl your tongue against the tip and he drops everything, focusing on the way you tease him instead.

He inhales sharply. “Fuck. Who’s the tease now?”

You run your tongue along his shaft and smile when you get to the tip, giving it a quick kiss. “I’m savoring. What happened to trusting the process?”

He drags his lip through his teeth and clenches his jaw as you put his patience to the test but lucky for him you’re kind. He doesn’t have to wait long. You close your lips around him a moment later, reaching around his hips to guide him deeper, controlling the depth of his thrusts until he learns your limits and leans over you. With his hands on your breasts he rolls his hips. He can feel the tip of his cock bumping the back of your throat. He moans when you gag around him.

“That’s it, princess. Suck it. Just like that,” he praises.

Jimin is careful with his pace, and tender with his touch when he twists your nipples. He thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can take this just fine, despite the fact that your mouth feels fucking incredible. It’s when he watches you part your thighs and slip your hand between them to finger yourself while he fucks your mouth that he realizes he’s got none of the control he was so certain of. His balls tighten and he pulls out quickly and squeezes them, pinching at the tip of his cock and leaving you gasping for the breath you couldn’t catch with him in your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I need a second,” he huffs, eyes closed, standing perfectly still. He breathes slowly and deeply. If you could peek into his brain you’re sure you’d see any number of boring things trying to distract him from the image of you fucking yourself with your fingers while you sucked his cock. It’s futile. He’s certain he’ll see it in his dreams.

“Did I do something wrong?” you wonder, shuffling around so that you’re laying back on your pillows.

Jimin ignores your question. He knows you’re well aware he almost came in your mouth. “I need to be inside you like, now,” he says, picking up the condom again.

You watch him tear it open and roll it on with his one knee pressed into the mattress and his other foot on the floor.

"Come on then," you coax, opening your legs for him to crawl between.

He pushes two fingers inside you on his way up, dragging them out slowly and smearing your wetness around your pussy before he lines his cock up and sinks in to the hilt in one smooth press.

You gasp as he fills you, feeling the stretch of his girth, and he hushes your whimpering and brushes his nose against yours. "I'm sorry baby," he soothes. "I'll go slow." He seals the promise with a kiss before hiking your legs up high around his waist and wrapping his arms around you.

He lies still like this, waiting for the green light while he kisses you breathless. He moves to your neck when you break away to inhale, sucking more little bruises in the skin there. "Tell me when."

"Move," you moan. "Move. Fuck me."

Jimin pulls out slowly, leaving just the tip inside. He pushes back in just as slow, repeating the action several times until it looks like you're about to cry.

You need it so badly. It feels cruel to have him rocking so gently inside you when all you want is to be ruined by him. "Harder," you plead.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me beg," you whine.

"What if I want you to beg?" he jokes, dropping his hips against you. It's almost hard enough to satisfy you.

"Then I'll beg."

Jimin groans, dropping his head to your shoulder as he sets a brutal pace. He pounds into you, forcing the air from your lungs with his powerful thrusts, rolling his hips like his life depends on it. "You're so fucking good for me, princess. So tight. Feels so fucking good."

"Go faster," you tell him, grabbing a handful of his ass.

Shifting higher on his knees, he picks up the pace. Sweat beads on his forehead and over his lip. It beads in the dip of his cupid's bow and you lick it away before raking his bottom lip through your teeth.

“You feel my fat cock baby?" he asks. You moan in response pulling your legs higher so he can fuck you even deeper. "You like the way I fill you, don't you? Want me to fuck you full of my cum? Take it," he grunts. "You take it so fucking well. You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts.

Jimin pulls out when you start to clench, not quite edging you but stealing the pleasure you were high on nonetheless. You whine at the loss of him, walls fluttering wildly around nothing.

"Can we try something?" he asks, lifting your legs and putting them to the side.

"What did you have in mind?" you wonder. You reach for his cock but he's already moving, nudging at your hips until you turn.

"Up on your knees for me, princess," he instructs. He kneels behind you once you're in position and smooths his hand up your spine, guiding you gently down onto your elbows. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” you assure him, wiggling your hips a little to get him moving again.

He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, dragging it through your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Finally, he pushes back inside you, coaxing a fresh wave of arousal with the stretch of his girth. It’s deeper like this and impossibly you feel even more full than you did before.

“Oh, Jimin,” you sigh, dropping your face into your folded arms. “Jimin.”

“Good?” He folds himself over you, pressing his chest to your back and sliding his hands from your hips to your breasts.

You thrust yourself back into him as you answer. “Perfect. You?”

It takes him by surprise but he follows your lead. He drives himself into your cunt while massaging your breasts and kissing your back. “Fuck, y/n…” he moans, letting his teeth drag over your shoulder before he bites down.

You hiss at the sting and he soothes it with his tongue and puckered lips.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous taking my cock like this. Feel how deep I am. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Jimin? Jimin, I need—,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What, princess? What do you need?” he questions, releasing a breast to play with your clit instead. “Want me to pull your hair? Want me to fill you with my cum?”

“I wanna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin pulls back immediately.

He lays down beside you and grabs at your waist, guiding you over his cock and holding on tight as you drop your weight and take him completely. Swiveling your hips, you set a pace slow and steady. Jimin’s thumbs rubs soft circles into your skin as you move.

“Go faster,” he urges, unable to keep his hips from rising to meet yours.

You shake your head ‘no’ and continue with your slow rolling pace.

“Please, y/n. Ride it like you wanna cum with me.”

Smirking devilishly, you slow down even more and lean over him with your hands on either side of his head.

He looks down, watching your breasts sway and the way his cock disappears over and over.

“Fuck, y/n. PLEASE,” he whines, roughly grabbing your hips and pounding up into you.

Your startled laugh quickly turns into desperate cries of his name. His cock hits your g-spot directly. It feels so good you don’t even think you need him to touch your clit to make you cum. But he does. He pinches your bud between his fingers while he slams into you, growling and moaning and begging you to cum with him.

“I’m close,” he grunts, licking his fingers and rubbing furiously at your clit.

“Me too,” you whine. “I’m gonna—”

You don’t have time to finish the thought as he takes you over the edge with him. He slams his head back against the pillows as he pumps his hips and cums to the wild pulsing of your orgasm. Your cunt milks every last drop from him and you cry his name, clutching his wrists and letting your head fall back so you can wail your pleasure at the ceiling.

Jimin gasps, picking up his head to look down at how your pussy spreads open around him. Your slick cum coats the condom and his mouth waters, remembering the sweet tang of your taste. You’ve barely stopped grinding on him when he sits up to push you down on your back.

Pulling out, he kneels beside the bed and pulls you to the edge by your legs so he can gently lick you clean. He exhales a hot and heavy breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before standing up to peel the loaded condom off his softening cock.

“That was… wow,” you pant, staring up at the ceiling for a moment as you try to regain your breath.

He’s already back at your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you towards his chest.

“Yeah,” he agrees while softly combing his fingers through your hair. He’s tired.

You smile against his sweaty chest and plant a soft salty kiss against him. Through the corner of your eye you see the row of untouched condoms on your nightstand. “We’ve got a lot left. Wanna go again?”

He hums a deep throaty sound and laughs when your hand falls to his limp cock. “I want to, but I need a bit to recharge. I can make you cum again while we wait. Do you want that, baby?”

“I always want that. But you don’t have to.”

The groan in his throat sounds croaky as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “I want to.”

He reaches down to wedge his fingers between your thighs and your whole body jumps at the sensitive sensation. How dare your body betray you in this moment?

“Seems like you might need time to recharge too,” he teases while nuzzling against the top of your head and squeezing you in a warm embrace against him. “I’m okay with just laying here and holding you.”

“Yeah?” You smile and cross your leg over his to get more comfortable. “Mmm. You can always help me study for the next test while you’re here.”

Laughter bubbles from his throat. “Are you trying to seduce me for answers to the exam? You know I don’t grade them, right.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, barely containing your giggles as you look up at him. “I don’t think I need to seduce anyone for answers. My head feels a little clearer now.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” he prods while playfully ghosting his fingers down your side.

“Because I know I can be distracted outside of class now instead. I mean, if you wanna keep doing this,” you explain while nervously drumming your fingertips on his chest. “I know I’m not anything special, but—”

Jimin lifts your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss. “You are,” he whispers when he pulls away.

You lick your lips and blink a few times. “I was gonna say you make me feel like I am the most special vanilla ice cream cone on the planet.”

His shy, warm smile fills your stomach with butterflies even as he makes his joke. “Want me to lick you up?”

“And so much more.”

It’s a weighted confession. You sit up to look at him so he knows this. He purses his lips and casts his away. He was avoiding this conversation.

“I don’t know how much more I can give you. I want to be what you deserve, but things are so hard right now. I don’t know that I can be someone who’s good enough for you. You deserve to be showered in gifts and taken on dates. You deserve to be given flowers every day. I don’t even have a car to take you somewhere for a vacation. I’m not sure I can be what you want.”

“Just be yourself,” you state plainly, cupping your hand around his jaw. “That’s what I want. So far I like the person I see. I like you, the real you.”

“I like you too,” he blurts, eyes snapping back to meet yours. “But I can’t afford—”

You press a finger to his lips. “I don’t need expensive dates or fancy gifts. I don’t need you to take care of me— well, last night was the exception and you didn’t need money for that. I just want you to be with me. Talk with me. Spend time with me. Maybe have lots of sex? I don’t know, we can figure out the rest later.” You laugh, embarrassed by your own boldness.

“You see everything that I am and you still want me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing. Now I know for sure you’re too good for me. But,” he pauses and slips his hands into yours, “I want to keep seeing you. I like talking to you and the more time I spend with you, the more certain I feel about the choices I’ve made. No one’s ever made me feel so free. I want to hold onto that feeling. I want to hold onto you.”

You tell yourself not to cry as you straddle his waist and hover above his lips. “I’m yours then. Are you mine?”

He catches your lips between his and buries his hands in your hair. “I’m yours.”

#smutcentralnet #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin x reader

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axwalker · 3 years

Text

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection.

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster.

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter.

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying.

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love.

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay.

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine.

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.”

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can.

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose.

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!”

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever.

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart.

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation.

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?”

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?”

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.”

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

“It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—”

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us.

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow.

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.”

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before.

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming.

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else?

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little.

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.”

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed.

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.”

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching.

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house.

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel.

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there.

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment.

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.”

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.”

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid.

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.”

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone.

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.”

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.”

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long.

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.”

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.”

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin.

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious.

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do.

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind.

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence.

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake.

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job.

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?”

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class.

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.”

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it.

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake.

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.”

He stands still as a statue. “What?”

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…”

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—”

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes.

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?”

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides.

“Are you so sure, Lexie?”

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.”

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?”

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.”

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.”

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently.

“No backing out.”

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this.

#axwalker writes #tw abuse #tw toxic love #tw violence

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years

Text

Cabur - Rogue, Chapter 6| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: A few weeks have passed and after landing on a small planet to collect a bounty, you and Mando decide to take a little trip to the market to stock up on some things. Nothing will come up here.. right?

Warnings: Angsty angsty annnnngst, (Sorry, I don’t mean to be so horrible to dear reader), Swearing (mild), brief mentions of death, touching on the same things as chapter 4 but not as heavy but I’ll still add the trigger warnings ♥︎ These chapters will get lighter, I promise,

Not beta read, I wanted to get this one out because I love it so apologies for any mistakes, I’ll be going in to edit a little later

Trigger warnings: Anxiety, horrible thoughts/insults, triggering comments maybe, thoughts of not being able to cope.

Words: About 6210

AN: Okay, okay, so, I was listening to my Rogue playlist on Spotify (link coming soon) and a certain song came on that just fuelled this chapter. SO, I highly recommend listening to Leave A Light On by Tom Walker if you want the vibes for this chapter. Just… honestly, please do it (I may have had tears)

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss

Mando’a translation: Cabur - Protector or Guardian

A few weeks had passed since that night you saved the Mandalorian’s life, since he threw away the bounty puck to keep you safe.

You’d stayed that night grounded, and then when Mando was able to get up in the morning, he flew you off of that dump of a planet.

He didn’t ask anymore but how you had managed to save him. Whether he knew you were lying or not, he hadn’t pushed it, choosing instead to respect you. Kind of like how you respected him and his Creed.

You’d fallen into a sort of routine around the Razor Crest, without either of you realising it. Mando would fly the ship, and you could be found seeing to Grogu and Duru, or tidying things up. Sometimes you would clean the weapons in the cabinet, making sure they stayed in pristine condition.

Now and then, Mando would head out to get a bounty and when he got back, he would let you help patch him up. You never saw his bare skin, respected that. You would look away or close your eyes, pointing out the best things to use or how to administer them. The man was good at first aid, but his answer to everything was to shove the cauteriser on it. So, when you had been passing through some shops one day, you had stocked up on medical supplies, even found a shop selling the same herbs and plants that your mother had taught you about.

You’d even been on a few of the hunts with him.

Of course, you had argued first. When you’d asked him about it one day on the way out of Nevarro, Mando had simply said no.

Which had immediately riled you. You were not a girl who liked that word. You despised that word.

Which is how you’d spent the whole night and next two days bickering, over the question of your safety. When he lost that front, (“Seriously, Mando? I’m a fugitive. And after all, I’ve got a big, strong Mandalorian to protect me”) the Mandalorian had moved on to your lack of thinking before throwing yourself into the firefight.

He lost that one too.

(“Says the man who stole back a child surrounded by Stormtroopers.”

“You’re not coming. End of.”

“Did you want me to bring your pulse rifle over?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“You’re right. Pulse rifle and an extra blaster.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Sure you do, Lori. I’ll see you at the ramp.”)

That nickname had slipped out by accident, and he’d regarded you, for a long time. He’d gone still, and you almost swore you heard a hitch of breath through his helmet and then he just nodded and murmured softly, “See you down there.”

There had been a lot of little moments like that but they were so fleeting that you were almost convinced you’d imagined it. You were imagining a lot of things lately.

Sometimes, when you were walking through forests or towns, you thought you spotted something lingering at the edges of your vision.

A tall figure, cloaked in a hood that was embroidered in either silver or gold, depending on the light.

You’d even asked Mando about it a few times, but he hadn’t seen anything so you simply put it down to a trick of the light or sleeplessness, nightmares still plaguing you now and then.

Regardless of the nightmares and your vision playing tricks on you, you were doing… okay. You were warm, safe, had a comfy place to sleep. You had things to keep you busy, things that weren’t hunting for food or a good spot to hunker down in for the night.

Duru was happy too, having become fast friends with Grogu and the two of them ran rings around you and the Mandalorian. Well, mainly Mando, which you found hilarious because he was such an exasperated dad with them both.

It was a rare reprieve from your life, letting you slow down and… live. Rather than survive.

“I do not talk in my sleep.”

“Yes, you do!! Sometimes, I think you’re awake but you’re just having a fully-fledged conversation with your blanket.”

“Oh, shut up. I know I don’t talk in my sleep, tin can. You were probably just having dreams about me again.” You examined the fruit in front of you, then handed over a few credits to the kind vendor, slipping the fruit in your bag.

The sound of fabric hitting the floor sounded from behind you, and you turned to see that the Mandalorian had dropped the bag you’d made him carry. “I do NOT have dreams about you!” He stooped to pick up the bag, then rose to see you standing with your hands on your hips, eyebrow raised and that damn smirk on your lips.

“Mmhm, is that why you always have to pull something over your lap when I wake you up?”

He stared at you, and you had the very correct feeling that he was looking at you in mild shock, too caught out to come up with his usual cocky response. “I -you.. That’s completely..”

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes at him and then dropping him a wink, “Come get me when you’ve thought of a response, Lori.” You turned and carried on walking through the market.

The two of you had stopped off on a nearby trading planet, to gather supplies. Mando had recently secured a bounty with your help and it had paid well, giving you enough extra credits to stock up and treat yourselves. Grogu was already half-way through a packet of blue macarons, which would no doubt come back to bite you both later when he was pelting through the ship whilst you tried to catch him. And it would be your fault because you had taken one look at those big ears and eyes, determined not to break but when the little womp rat had cooed at you… Of course, he had gotten his own way.

It felt good, to wander a market and not be scrounging for things under the cover of a hooded cloak. You still had one on, you couldn’t bear to part with this item, the most beautiful piece of clothing you had ever had. You just didn’t have the hood up disguising you.

A gift, from Mando.

The first time you went out with him after the puck was destroyed, Mandalorian had insisted you wear yours. However, it had been covered in his blood from his injury, and you couldn’t get it out, no matter how hard you had tried. It hadn’t bothered you that much, though you were.. not sad as such, but it felt a little strange because it had been one of your few possessions for so long. But, maybe it was a symbol. That things had changed, and that was in the past.

A couple of days later, you had just walked into the cockpit when you noticed there was a package on your seat. When you picked it up, it was squishy, bound in a sort of thick papery material and tied with a length of string.

You’d glanced at the Mandalorian, who was watching you, the picture of calm but his hands had been fiddling with something on his belt, a shockingly nervous gesture you weren’t used to.

That simple, uncertain gesture had risen your pulse and you unwrapped the package, trying not to show how your hands were shaking at the first gift you’d received since being a child.

A gift from the Mandalorian.

Pulling away the paper had revealed a mass of fabric, a blue so deep it was almost the same colour as the night sky. You’d lifted it out and it had unfolded and revealed itself to be a new cloak. The material was soft, thick enough to keep out a biting chill. You’d made a noise of awe and surprise, but had immediately fallen in love with it, pulling it on. It fell to about the middle of your calves and secured at the base of your neck with a small silver clasp.

The inside was lined with a thin layer of heat-reflective material, and when you’d run a hand over it, Mando had finally broken his silence, “I noticed you were always cold, even if you had layers on so I.. wanted to make sure you weren’t cold anymore..”

You swore you could almost feel the heat creeping up his neck, and that softened you. He was nervous about giving you this cloak, like he didn’t know how you would take it.

You had smiled at him, a soft smile that made your eyes glitter like the surrounding stars and placed a hand on his knee lightly, “Thank you, Lori. I adore it, I truly do.” Then you’d spent the next minutes admiring it, putting the hood up and realising it shielded your face in shadow.

So, naturally, you had moved around the cockpit and upper level like a phantom, pretending to be a shadow in the night.

You’d even earned yourself a laugh from the great wall of beskar that was fast becoming your friend. It was only a soft chuckle, just picked up by the vocoder, but all the same, it had lit something within you.

It still echoed in your ears now.

A few moments later, the Mandalorian was back at your side, Grogu in his little bag and Duru walking next to him. “The point still stands. I thought I might finally get some silence at night, but you talk just as much.” His raspy voice had a softened edge, one of teasing and you might even have heard the hints of a smile playing at his lips.

You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “You love it when I talk. I have to talk to you, otherwise I’d be worried you had turned to stone. You’re so quiet sometimes.” You stopped at a stall, admiring the fabrics here – not to buy, just to look at the different things in a place you had never seen before.

The Mandalorian made a soft noise, “No, sweetheart, that’s just called quiet time. You might want to try it sometime.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but something behind Mando caught your eye. Rising up on tiptoe, you peered over his shoulder… but there was nothing there. Weird. You could have sworn you saw someone wearing a hood just… watching you.

You shrugged, assuming you had imagined it like before and then looked back to the man before you, “I can be quiet. I just choose to fill your hours with my wonderful voice.” You flashed him a grin, eyes dancing.

A voice cut across before Mando could talk to you, “You.” It was a snarl, tinged with recognition that wasn’t exactly the most positive. It was bitter, aggressive and almost… pained.

Mando turned quickly, his hand flying toward the blaster on his hip, instinct overriding him. His movement allowed you to see who had just interrupted the conversation.

A lady stood there, with curly magenta hair twisted up into a braid. She had tattoos along her neck, and her eyes were a shocking green. She was breathing quickly, staring at you with such disdain that it made your neck prickle.

How did you know this woman? You’d never been to this planet before.

You blinked, holding up your hands as a surrender gesture, “Uh… I’m sorry but I don’t know you. I think you must have me confused with someone else…”

The lady shook her head fiercely, making the whisps of her hair that had escaped bounce wildly. “No. I do not have you confused. I would know you anywhere.” Her eyes were wild with fury, pinning you to the ground with just a stare.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know who you are. Maybe you could tell me your name?” You extended a hand, trying to diffuse this situation and help the woman understand that you aren’t who she thinks.

She flinched back from your reach, even though she was still a good few feet away. “How dare you. You don’t even know who I am?” She made a noise of disgust, looking you up and down in such a way that you were surprised the skin didn’t flay from your bones, “Typical. I don’t know why I’m surprised. She was probably just another tool to you, wasn’t she? Another person to use and discard like trash.”

You blinked, your hands dropping to your sides. Your skin began to tighten, your blood turning a little frosty. You looked to the side, seeing a few people start to stop and watch this altercation happen.

The Mandalorian seemed to pick up on this at the same time as you. He turned more toward the lady, his hand still within reach of his blaster, “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?”

The woman barely even looked at him, “Don’t get involved in this, Mandalorian. You’re just as bad as she is. At least to do what you do, you have to have respect and creed. You have morals, no matter how murky they are.” She jabbed a finger at you, “Unlike this savage monster.”

Your breathing immediately shallowed, getting a little unsteady as she spat out that word, that hateful word that followed you around and hounded at your feet. “I’m sorry? For whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry if it’s hurt you. I didn’t mean it, truly-”

She laughed, a cold and cruel laugh, but her eyes were slowly turning glassy with tears. She took a few steps closer, “You don’t even remember her name, do you? Shall I remind you? Help you distinguish her from your kill list?”

You didn’t fail to notice the way the Mandalorian’s stance shifted. His body tightened and he stood closer, shielding you slightly with one of those ridiculously broad shoulders. He was going on the defensive, feeling the situation start to spiral.

The woman barely spared him another glance, “3 years ago, you showed up on Trask. You stumbled around the market for a few days, bleeding from a wound in your leg and you passed out.”

Realisation was beginning to filter through you. It sparked in your mind and you remembered a dark street and rain, your leg heavy and cumbersome beneath you. It had burned like fire and when you went down, you couldn’t get back up again.

The woman was still talking, “Someone picked you up, took you to their home. My sister. She was there for work, and saw you lying in the street, like some kind of dumped animal. She nursed you back to health, gave you somewhere to stay.” She could see it as it began back to you, “You took her aid, her comfort and then, there was a warning put out in the village. There had been a high-risk fugitive spotted in the village. Anyone with information was to come forward immediately.”

Your hands curled into fists, your chest shuddering as guilt and darkness began to swirl within you, “Stop.”

She chose not to hear your quiet plea, “I was supposed to meet her. But she sent me a comms message. She would meet me, but she would have someone else with her. Someone who she couldn’t tell me over a comms message. Someone in trouble. People said this girl was dangerous, to be handed over with no hesitation but she didn’t see that. No, she said this girl was terrified, that she just wanted to live.” She tilted her head, walking closer again, “But the next day, this special little girl was gone. And then the Imperials came.” Her voice shook, her expression unreadable.

You shook your head mutely, not wanting to hear this, memories flooding your brain.

“Someone had tipped them off that my sister was harbouring a fugitive. They tore through her home, destroyed it and dragged her in for questioning. They demanded she tell them, beat her when she denied it. She never gave it up.”

The woman was right in front of the Mandalorian now, who extended his arm out, ‘That’s close enough.”

Nausea roiled your stomach, and you weren’t sure if you were going to pass out or throw up. There were too many eyes on you, too many people watching as this woman revealed you bit by bit.

The woman lowered her voice, deadly soft and it shook, but carried in the silent square, “My sister was murdered because of you. Because of what you are.”

Mando froze, his head tilting back to look at you slightly. You still hadn’t told him.

She wasn’t done. “They told me a few weeks ago that you’d been captured by a Mandalorian. I wept with relief that day, because I knew the Mandalorian wouldn’t fail. You’d be taken to whoever wanted you, and you would finally repent for every single sin you’ve ever committed. Your life is littered with them. My sister, my beloved sister is dead because of you. A killer. A beast. Your hands are stained red, girl, and they will always be stained red. I admit, I’m disappointed that you slithered into his head with your poison too but you will kill him too and then… You deserve everything that will ever come to you. And more.” The woman was breathing almost as quickly as you, her eyes glinting in sick delight at the pain she was causing you.

My sister is dead because of you.

A beast.

Her words mingled with that seductively dark voice in your mind and you gasped for a breath, knives feeling like they were digging into your lungs. Your eyes darted around, noted the strangers looking at you with horror and that shared disgust. A father pushed his daughter behind his legs as he caught your stare, hissing at you.

A flinch ran down your body and without a second thought, you turned tail and bolted. The sunlight was too bright, obscuring your vision harshly and making you stumble every now and then.

You were distantly aware of a male’s shout, then a harsh thumb and the Mandalorian’s voice snarling, “Stay down.” He stopped to check your pursuer was down and then he was running after you. “Hey, wait.”

You ignored him, boots pounding into the dust as you ran through the market, needing to get out of this place, get away from her and the memories. Where the hell was the ship? It was right here a minute ago. I haven’t gone the wrong way. This is the way we came.

You could still hear Mando behind you, knew he was hot on your heels. “Drop it, Mando.” You led him around people and stalls, knowing if wanted to be in front of you, he would be. He was letting you flee, stopping anyone coming after you.

Dodging around a crate of fruit, you almost sobbed. There it was, the Crest, gleaming in the sunlight. You slowed down as you reached it, stopping a little way away to let the ramp come down, let you inside to sanctuary.

Nothing happened.

Bastard.

You took a breath, trying to get past the tightness in your lungs, “Let me in.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” His voice was firm, arrogant, in a way like he knew best and you’d listen to him.

~“A killer. A beast. Your hands are stained red.”~

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, staring at the Crest, at where the ramp was tucked in tight. Your heart was pounding, not from the run, but from the realisation that no matter where you went, there would always be someone you had touched with that curse. “No. I’m not telling you anything. I don’t owe you anything.”

He laughed behind you, but it was a cool laugh, nothing humorous in it, “I’m not saying you owe me anything, princess. But some woman just cornered you in the street and spat abuse at you. I thought I would be prying you off of her, not chasing after you.”

A wolf. No. A beast.

You spun round, eyebrow raised, “Because I’m some wild animal that would rather fight than talk my way out of a situation?”

If he had no helmet, you would have seen him blink, “No, I’m not saying that. But, well. You have to admit it, don’t you?”

Something was beginning to prickle up the back of your neck, his words threatening to cut a little close, “Admit what?” Venom laced your tone and you tensed, as if bracing for a punch.

The Mandalorian walked closer, oozing confidence like he somehow knew you better than you knew yourself, “You don’t really think, do you? You never calculate the risks of a fight. You just jump straight in with no regard for your own safety. I mean, when I came for you on Sorgan, anyone smart would have seen a Mandalorian and run.” He wasn’t saying it in an arrogant way, he was saying it as fact. And he was right. A Mandalorian appeared on the street and you turned around and crossed to the other side. You didn’t engage him a fight and flirt with him.

A cold laugh rocked though you and you tilted your head, “Anyone smart? So you’re calling me stupid now? Is that it? Beast or stupid?” You took a few steps closer to him, ignoring the villagers milling around that had started to look, having heard the fight in the centre of the market. “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t calculate risks. You think I’ve had time to calculate risks in my life? I don’t have time to sit with my little notepad in my ship and jot down the pro’s and con’s of engaging in battle. I didn’t have the luxury of being trained like you.”

Bitter astonishment filled the Mandalorian’s voice, his own body going rigid, “The luxury of training?! You think I chose to become a Mandalorian? That I woke up one morning and skipped along to Mandalorian school?” His voice rose, the rough rasp turning to stone with every word.

You observed him with a steely gaze, something in you needing to push him away, to protect yourself before he got too close. So, you aimed for what you knew would work, his Creed. Your eyebrows rose, looking him up and down as you leaned your weight on one leg, “You’re telling me you weren’t born with that thing already stuck on your head?” Spiteful sarcasm dripped from your voice and you pointed up at his helmet.

The Mandalorian let out a snarl that no doubt usually sent normal people running. He stalked toward you with predatory grace, a hunter toward his prey. “Don’t you dare.” Like he read in your eyes where you were going with this.

Ugly triumph filtered though you as you stood your ground, not afraid of him, “It’s all the same with you Mandalorians, isn’t it. You have all your training, don your shiny armour and suddenly you’re better than anyone. That helmet goes on, you don’t have to face the consequences of what you’ve done. No one knows who you are, so you don’t need to take the blame.” These words were spiteful, beyond cruel and you hated yourself more and more for each one, but he was starting to get into the cracks, starting to see you. You couldn’t see him die.

Mando was right in front of you now, towering above you with all his broad-shouldered posture, frustration roiling off of him in waves. “You think I don’t feel remorse for what I’ve done?” His voice was so low, barely leashed.

You nearly purred, tasting the promise of a fight, even if it did twist a knife into your heart. “I’ve never seen it.” You tilted your head back to look up at him, letting every ounce of spoilt, cruel brattiness melt into your expression.

A soft growl rumbled through the helmet, so muted you barely heard it in the noises of the market behind him.

Yes. Yes.

And then he relaxed, his shoulders eased and his hands uncurled.

What? No – Disappointment, maybe even shock registered on your expression. You’d been sure, so sure that aiming for his beloved Creed would get him to fight you. Why hadn’t it worked?

Mando shook his head, the sunlight bouncing off of the shiny metal, “No. I’m not doing this with you. You can’t push me away, no matter how hard you try. You don’t mean anything that you just said, I can see it in your eyes.” He pressed a button on his vambrace, and the ramp opened behind you.

He saw you.

That dark beast was starting to awaken, its ears pricking up. You needed to get out of here, away from him, away from this, now. You just shook your head, turning around and walking up the ramp, watching Duru as she ran ahead of you.

Footsteps sounded from behind you as the Mandalorian followed you. He took Grogu from his little pouch, popping him on a cargo crate and Duru immediately jumped up next to him. “Don’t walk away from me. I’m trying to help you, but you keep shutting me out. Why did that woman say those things about you?” His gloved hand enveloped your wrist, his grip not tight or authoritative, but it began to break something in you.

“Let me go, Mando. I mean it.” You let ice creep into your tone, trying to disguise the cracking inside you, the darkness that was beginning to stir and whisper.

And the damn tin can saw it all. Your back was to him, but he still fucking knew, “Please… You know I would never judge you for it, for whatever you did to make her say that.”

Excuse me?

Anger flared through you now, igniting into a blaze and you snarled, “Whatever I did?!” You didn’t give him time to respond, not before you swung around, using his grip on your wrist for leverage. You had spent enough time around him now to become familiar with the plates of his armour, so you knew you aimed correctly when your fist connected with the side of his ribs between the front and back plates.

He grunted, jolting a little but he still didn’t let go. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant-” His voice had softened and, in your rage and hurt, you mistook the pleading tone for a condescending one.

Before he could finish, you punched him again, harder, “Don’t. Don’t try to start spewing excuses at me. I knew perfectly well what you meant. You thought that she had been hurt by me. That I killed her sister with my own hands. Probably slit her throat and bathed in her blood.”

“No, no, I didn’t. If you would just listen to me and stop shouting, please-“

Your foot connected with his shin, making him stumble backwards. You followed after him, “You didn’t even stop to think that maybe, for once, I didn’t actually do anything. But no. Like always, you looked at me and saw the worst. You assumed that I was a monster.” You chopped down at his inner elbow this time, causing him to let go of you in reflex.

Mando tilted his head, his voice coming out sharper this time, “I assumed?” He laughed, the bastard laughed, “What else am I supposed to do, sweetheart? You’ve been on this ship for nearly a month now and I still don’t know anything about you. So yes, I was wrong for assuming, but can you blame me?”

Your eyes flashed and you were on him again, “So it’s my fault that you thought I was a monster? You’d met me for all of two seconds on Sorgan and started whispering in my ear like honey, that death followed me wherever I went. There was a bounty over my head and that’s all you saw.”

Mando went still, his shoulders tightened, and his voice came out lower, “You’re still bringing that up? I told you that you weren’t my bounty anymore.”

Before you could answer him, that velvety voice inside your head started to whisper in your ear, “Oh no, oh my sweet darling. He sees you. The real you. He knows you’re a monster.”

You shook your head sharply, lifted your eyes back to the Mandalorian’s stupid face. Helmet. Visor. Whatever. “I’m not your bounty but you believed that woman. So say it.”

His confusion was palpable, “Say what?”

You took a step forward and your chest butted up against his, “Say it! Say that I’m a monster. A murderer. I kill everything I come near.” You laughed, coldly, the words coming out with your voice but in your head, they were being repeated in that cruel, silken whisper. “You regret it, don’t you? Throwing away my puck. You wish you’d kept it, then you could get rid of me, be free of what I’ve done, why I’m being hunted.” Those steel bands were still wrapped round you, crushing you, swallowing you whole again.

Something broke in him, his composure as the anger rose again and he leaned down to you, “Stop.” The command was a growl and he lifted a finger, pointing at you, “You’re a fucking hypocrite.”

Yes. Yes, fight back, fight me. Tell me what I know I am.

You raised your eyebrows, smirking at his finger and then back up at him but your expression was bitter, “Am I? Why’s that, Mando?” You tilted your head and practically purred, “Tell me.”

The tension in the room was tight, the air almost crackling around you with this outburst of emotion, the threads of your entwined lives pulling taut.

The light bounced off of the plates on his shoulders, betraying his slightly ragged breathing, “You just screamed at me for assuming the worst about you, yet you did just that to me. How can I want to be free of you, when I don’t even know who you are.” He lifted his hands to your shoulders, to try and calm you down, to push you away maybe.

The smirk began to slip from your face, “Does it matter who I am?”

His grip tightened, “Of course it does. Because you’re not a bad person. Let me help you, please. Just tell me something. Anything.” His voice turned pleading, and he lifted a hand from your shoulder, like he was going to cup your cheek.

You’re not a bad person.

Fire blazed within you again, protective and destructive. This was too close. He was getting too close. You had to stop it, now. You had to get away.

You reached up, grabbing his wrist and using the element of surprise to slam him against the wall behind him, pinning his wrist there and then your blade was at his neck, dull light glinting off of it, “Back off. You can’t help me. I’m not some broken doll to add to your ragtag collection.” Your own breathing was ragged, coming in sharp pants as the room started to spin.

The Mandalorian flinched, like you’d hit a nerve and his free hand moved. Bingo.

Yes, you thought, almost begged, Punch me. Fight me, please.

But he didn’t. He just curled his fingers around your wrist and pushed you away, dislodging your knife and knocking you back a few steps. Like you were weak.

You couldn’t do this, he was starting to slip through the cracks that were forming in you. He was looking at you, seeing you. He always had, from the moment you were nothing but hunter and prey, he knew exactly how to get through your intricately woven net of silver-tongued quips and cocky arrogance.

No.

Your voice cracked, echoes of the dark beast’s laughter in your ears “No! Stop pushing me away, stop taking it. Fight me!!” You surged for him again, your hands curling into fists, slamming against the beskar plates again and again.

You didn’t care that it hurt, that it made pain explode across your knuckles.

You liked it, you liked the pain. Deserved that and so much more.

And the Mandalorian… just stood there. He shook his head, just slightly, “No.” He stood there as you hammered your fists against his chest, even when you started to kick him. Just watched as your eyes became glassier, your punches harder but less accurate.

Why wasn’t he fighting you?

Your hazy mind began to overwork, searching for something, anything to provoke him, “Why? You don’t want to fight a girl? Too proud are you?” You slammed your knee into his, pulled at the armour plates, honed your pain and fury into him but he just absorbed it. “You’re as weak as I am, you’re running too. You’re the hypocrite, Mandalorian, not me.” Your words were stilted, made no sense as you spat out words as cruel as you could, just needing to provoke him.

Nothing did. Nothing. There was no noise in the cargo hold but the sounds of the people outside, beeping, the dull thud of your fists, your spiteful words and your own ragged breathing.

And the whispering in your head that had turned into a full-on symphony of bitter taunts and sniping truths. It rose with memories, flashes of your dead parents, the battered bodies of those that had tried to help you, people who had been caught in the cross-hairs of your life. Innocent people that had turned into nothing more than collateral damage.

Blood had started to smear on the beskar, your knuckles splitting open with the repeated impact. You could hear Duru meowing, Grogu gurgling in worry but you didn’t care.

The beast and its army rose, tasting the scent of blood and bringing you visions of the future, of the Mandalorian, dead on the ground. The blood from your fists turned into his own, painting the ground red. Duru, fur soaked in scarlet and Grogu, his tiny little body broken on the floor in a pool.

And above them, you stood, soaked in the blood of these three. Relishing in the pain and torture that you had caused. You could taste their blood.

The room began to spin further, the whispering detonated into a roar and it unleashed a heavy roiling cloud within you. It choked you, squeezed fists around your lungs, clouded your eyes and snuck into your head. It whispered to you, such cruel taunts, sucking out the deepest, most vile thoughts you had about yourself and spat them back out, combined with these visions of the future. It leeched the energy out of you and with a choked sob, your knees gave way.

Duru let out a yowl of concern, springing off of the cargo box.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be confident, or strong. I can’t be brave and cocky, I can’t keep throwing myself into every fight, I can’t run anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t-

And then a pair arms caught you.

Mando caught you. He didn’t haul you up against him. He didn’t try and pull you up.

No, he sunk to the floor with you, supporting your weight in his own body, leaning against the wall and letting you collapse against him.

You froze, your body stiffened as he did. This… people didn’t touch you like this. They didn’t put their arms around you unless they were trying to drag you somewhere.

You hadn’t been hugged since you were a child, and yet here you were. The Mandalorian was holding you, but loosely.

Waiting, for your consent. For you to be okay with this.

And as his gloved hand brushed your back, such a tender warmth broke through you, caressed your pain and you couldn’t resist. You sunk into him, the last saps of energy leaving you as tears flooded your cheeks. The armour was hard, digging into you a little bit, but the feeling of just being held was more than enough.

He wrapped his arms around you, coaxing you against his chest. His legs were either side of you, one stretched out on the floor and the other resting up to support your back. Distantly, you were aware of four clawed feet padding over your lap, Duru settling into the space between you and Mando’s arm.

The armour disguised the frantic beating of his heart, your tears and shaking of your body held the trembling of his own hands, but he didn’t mention it. Didn’t mention the fact that this was the first time he had held someone like this that wasn’t the kid… since he was a child himself. He was just as starved of touch as you, even more so because he had no skin-to-skin contact either. He could feel your warmth through the fabric of his clothes that weren’t covered, could feel the weight of you leaning into him.

He didn’t speak, just held you in the dimness of the cargo hold, keeping you together as you fell apart, kept the promise of death away, just as you had done for him.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #star wars #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #grogu

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