#anyway i really like this because of clear he is. can understand him perfectly

[cxsmicbaby]

this is a part two to my previous johnny drabble... i think you can read it without reading the other and still understand but it'll make more sense if you read that one first :) enjoy

read part 3 here

mdni; this is suggestive from the beginning and straight up filthy by the end... 😈

you figure things are going to be different now that johnny's had you laid out naked on the floor in his room. you're almost put off by how normal he acts, though—maybe a little disappointed, if you really let yourself think about it.

it reminds you how little the night meant to him. he's probably used to it, you realize—fucking someone he works with, and then pretending nothing happened. he had a life before the fantastic four and you can only imagine how much worse he was back then. at least you didn't really fuck, but the difference feels negligible.

did it mean something to you? you try to ignore how much you think about it, but it's hard, especially when you're alone with him. you look at his annoying mouth stretched into a self-satisfied grin and can only picture how it felt when his lips were on you. they're much more useful that way, you think; at least then, he shuts up. well, kind of. he's certainly a dirty talker.

johnny is very good at hiding it—you're right, he does have some degree of practice in this field—but it becomes more difficult everyday. he's with you in your office in the morning and wonders what's really stopping him from crawling under your desk and eating the attitude right out of you. his hand brushes your thigh at dinner and it takes a lot to convince himself not to just rest it there.

it's like he has a devil and angel on his shoulders—the angel is him, but with reed's insufferably monotonous voice, and the devil looks a lot like you in that matching lace set he can't get out of his head.

a week passes and neither of you have brought it up, so you decide maybe he just wants to forget about it, despite the way he'd made clear how much he didn't want to directly after it happened. it's none of your business, you convince yourself. and it's probably better in a professional capacity for you to ignore this slip-up, anyway.

then, sue throws a party. it's for a charity, and you remember setting it up at the beginning of the month, but the time has passed you and when she starts talking about it you have to pretend you're just as prepared as she is. you want to blame johnny for distracting you from your job, but you know it's your fault.

it's a beautiful party. the baxter building is opened to the public—at least, to the guest list—and you hired a band to play live music, which reed seems to like very much. you decide to wear something a little more on the revealing side; nothing crazy, but enough to get some stares, some double-takes, just to make you feel good. you know there's only one guy you want to pay attention to you but you tell yourself it's not for him. that would be pathetic, right?

there's a bartender, too, and you spend most of your time talking to him, because the one guy you really want to talk to is off flirting with some redhead. and he looks good, too—he's wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dress pants fitting him perfectly (a surprise, since all his bottoms seem to you on the verge of being too tight). his hair is tousled and the only way you can categorize it is a very put-together bedhead. the memory of tugging on the honey-blonde strands washes over you and you order another drink.

"tough night, huh?" the bartender comments, eyeing you with a little smile as he mixes your next drink. you sigh, propping your elbow onto the makeshift bar, leaning your chin into your palm. he's a handsome guy; dark brown hair, relatively tall, pretty eyes. not the worst company.

"...it's a very nice party," you say, as if you're trying to convince yourself of the fact. you haven't really answered him, but your response is enough of an answer in itself. the bartender looks up, dark eyes studying the crowd, and nods.

"mmhm. you don't seem to be enjoying it, is all."

he places your drink in front of you and you swirl the liquid around with the little black straw, sighing like a lovesick schoolgirl. you're already a bit tipsy, so you can't bring yourself to feel embarrassed at your obvious lack of excitement. you just hope nobody is paying enough attention to you to notice—nobody but your handsome conversation partner, that is.

but someone else has noticed. of course he has. how could johnny not be looking at you, when you look like that?

it was all he could do when he'd seen you, two hours earlier, walking in step with sue as you checked things off a clipboard, making sure the tower was ready for the event. he had thought a lot about what he'd say to you tonight; he wanted to talk about what happened, maybe orchestrate it happening again, but the sight of you took all the words from his overactive mouth, and for once he couldn't think of what to say.

"you okay?" ben had asked, sitting next to him in the kitchen. the smug smile on his face had been enough to let johnny know he didn't really care about the answer. "you look a little pale."

johnny had just scoffed, turning his whole body away from you, crossing his arms. it felt a bit childish but he did it anyway.

so now, johnny is stealing glances at you over the top of his whiskey glass, hoping the girl he's talking to doesn't notice. you're sat at the bar, leaning toward the stupidly handsome bartender, who's smiling at you in a way that irritates johnny immediately. he thinks this is your third drink; he lost sight of you for a few moments, but he doubts you had the time to chug another in that period.

you seem a little upset. johnny doesn't want to give himself too much credit but he hopes it's because of him. not that he wants to make you upset, but in his experience the degree of upsetness equates to how much you care. he hopes you care about him. the thought is scary so he takes another, longer sip of his drink, finishing it.

"oop, looks like i'm out," he says, flashing the girl a toothy smile. "i'll just be a second."

he makes a beeline for the bar now, knowing it's probably not a good idea to have two drinks in a row—especially because he can already feel the effects of the others he's had—but not really caring. the bartender sees him before you do. the guy turns his attention to his new customer, but doesn't move far enough away from you for johnny's liking. he bites his tongue and takes the seat beside you.

"johnny," you say, before he can think of something smart to greet you with. you sound a little drunk—nothing concerning, just bubbly, and your smile is more dazed than he's used to seeing. "having fun?"

johnny glances from you to the bartender, asks for something he knows is convulted and time-consuming, ignoring the guy's slightly annoyed expression. once the intruder is safely distracted making his drink, johnny puts his attention on you, and his body warms at your eye contact.

"yeah, yeah," he answers, clearing his throat. "you did a good job. with the whole thing. music is nice."

you giggle softly. johnny likes that sound. it's like wind chimes twinkling in the breeze. "sue did a lot of the planning, to be honest. i kind of forgot this was happening until yesterday."

johnny smiles, laughs under his breath. his hands are interlocked on the bar's surface and he's playing with his fingers as he watches you. you think for a moment that he's nervous, but the thought is ludicrous—johnny, nervous? never in a million years.

"isn't that your whole job? you know, organizing stuff?" he teases, because it sounds like something he would say if things were not so strange between you. he wonders if you even feel the strangeness—you've been acting perfectly normal all week, like he didn't just have his face buried in you, which ticks johnny off more than he wants to admit. it's not fair to expect you to acknowledge it if he won't, which he knows, but he's never been one to advocate for all that is fair.

you roll your eyes, but when you look back at him there's something soft, malleable. "i guess i've been a little distracted."

johnny's eyebrows twitch. he takes a deep breath, swallows hard, has to look away from you. "distracted, huh? that's no good."

you take a sip of whatever drink you've ordered and johnny wonders if he should tell you to slow down, but you're an adult. he doesn't want to parent you. plus, he hates when you tell him to slow down at things like this, and he doesn't want to ruin the delicacy of the moment.

he thinks very hard before he speaks. very, very hard.

"well, if you're ever feeling that way, and you really need to focus..." he starts, after a breath, spinning in the barstool so that his entire body faces you, "i'm always more than willing to help out."

johnny bites back a smile at the look on your face. god, you're adorable.

"more than willing, huh?" you repeat, and he watches, fascinated, as your tongue pokes out, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth for just a second. "i didn't know you were such a good samaritan."

he scoffs. "really? couldn't tell by my superhero status?"

you laugh, and the tension breaks just the slightest bit, but johnny doesn't want that—he wants it to be suffocating, wants it to be so strong you can't resist its pull.

"besides, you know i always get something out of helping you." he says it low, looking right at you, so it's impossible for you to miss what he's trying to say. you hear it, you see it; your smile falters and your eyelashes flutter when you blink at him. "i'm a pleaser."

people-pleaser, is what you know he should've said, but you also know johnny usually says what he means, even if that meaning is obscured. the alcohol in your blood makes you feel hot and you shift in your seat, ignoring the way your core starts to ache. god, you're easy, you think, but it doesn't stop you from playing johnny's game.

you're both standing and moving to somewhere with less lighting just a moment later. the bartender turns to place johnny's ridiculous drink in front of him only to see, with a frustrated huff, that he's gone. better add it to the tab.

he takes you to his room, because he 'doesn't feel like having to small talk a bunch of idiots', and no one will bother you in here. you're both sitting on plush chairs this time—your outfit is not made for you to be comfortably seated on the floor. you keep glancing at the spot where you were lying down as he made you see stars and hope he doesn't notice.

"that bartender was checking you out," johnny says, relaxing into his seat. his legs are spread and his head is tilted back, eyes low as they look at you. you're close enough that his knee brushes yours, but you ignore it as best you can.

"so?" you counter, shrugging. "he was cute."

you imagine this will annoy him, waiting for some sort of comically insulting quip, but all johnny does is stare at you. his head rolls to face the ceiling and you watch his adam's apple bob with a particularly hard swallow. a pregnant beat passes, a rare moment where you have no clue what johnny is going to say—usually, you can predict his conversational rhythm, but whatever this is, it's out of bounds.

"i can't stop thinking about you." he says it like it's nothing, like he's telling you what he had for breakfast or what he plans to do this weekend. your breath hitches, and he continues, eyes still trained on the ceiling. "when i saw you in that outfit i was hoping you wore it for me."

johnny's honesty shocks you, almost enough to coax you into being honest too—i did wear it for you. but even if he's being genuine, you know his ego is dangerously big, and if you inflate it anymore he might burst.

you want to play it cool, but your heart is hammering, and you can't think of anything you could possibly say that wouldn't result in you making another very big mistake. his head swivels to face you again, a crooked grin playing on his lips. you wish he wasn't so handsome.

"you look beautiful. makes me think about how beautiful you looked begging for me."

your stomach flips, your face boiling. johnny's hand is lazily reaching out to you, resting palm up on your knee. the skin-to-skin contact is light but it makes you feel dizzy.

"come here," he asks; too soft for a demand, and there's an unspoken please, his fingers flexing.

you can't bring yourself to say anything, so you take his hand.

johnny pulls you fluidly toward him, and now you're perched sideways on his lap, legs resting over his. your arm is over his shoulder because there's nowhere else to put it, but it brings your face even closer to his. he's smiling up at you, dazed, and his tongue traces his bottom lip, like he's trying to taunt you.

"johnny," you whisper; you meant for it to be louder, but your voice fails you. "this isn't a good idea."

his hand lets go of yours and falls to your thigh, rubbing gently up over your hips, to your waist, and back down again. his other is on the small of your back, keeping you secure against him. the drunkenness renders you a little more dumbfounded than you would've otherwise been and you think you might be in a dream.

"mm, right," he hums, almost absentmindedly. "but... you're still sitting here."

your eyes fall to his lips, and that's enough confirmation for him.

when johnny kisses you, you finally understand how he gets all those girls to come running back to him, even when he publicly shows them he doesn't care. it's slow at first, but so personal, so deep, you're immediately lost.

what you don't know is that johnny doesn't kiss every girl like that. sometimes he doesn't kiss them at all. he didn't kiss you last time, even though he wanted to, but now he can't resist it. kissing is a strangely intimate act to him, reserved only for the heat of the moment or when absolutely necessary. right now, it's neither of those things—or is it both?—and he's enjoying it more than he ever has.

he molds his lips to yours, his hand on your hip squeezing the flesh just barely before he moves to hold your head, thumb pressed against your chin, coaxing your mouth open. his tongue bullies inside and you moan at how soft it is. you start thinking about feeling his tongue elsewhere and pray he doesn't feel your thighs clench.

but he does. johnny feels it, and sighs into your mouth like he's wounded, pulling away only enough to breath. there's a little string of saliva stretching between you and his eyes darken when you lick your lips to get rid of it.

"i wanna touch you," he rasps, like he's been dying to say it since the beginning of the night. since the last time. since he met you. "let me, please. you know i'll make you feel good."

it pains you, because you do know. and you want it, more than anything you've ever wanted.

"okay," you say, like you're acquiescing, when in reality you've started to throb just thinking about his fingers on you. "okay."

johnny kisses you again, and his hand releases your face to trace down your collarbones, ending at the curve of your tits—he cups one, his thumb going in circles over where your nipple would be. you feel it hardening under his touch, and he must feel it too, even over the fabric. he's helping you take your top off in a second, unclasping your bra like he's done it a million times before; on second thought, he probably has.

he wants to take his time to admire you, play with you until you're squirming in his lap, but the drunkenness is making him feel rushed, urgent, like he has a finite amount of time before this bubble bursts. he bites you gently when his tongue pushes past your lips again, fingers pinching at your pebbled nipples just to soothe over them with his calloused thumb.

"you have the prettiest tits," johnny huffs, between kisses. he gets an idea then, when you keen into him; he pulls away from your mouth, quite reluctantly, and then he hoists you up by the waist, shifting you so you’re straddling him. his hands find purchase on your hips and he drags you forward; his bulge is pressed right up against the inside of your thigh now, and you're in awe at how hard he is.

you don't have time to ask what he's doing—his lips lock around your nipple, hot tongue circling it, and you let out a soft, surprised cry.

he hums, sending vibrations through your chest, making your hips twitch. you hate to beg him because you know it's what he wants but you can't help it. you tangle your fingers in his hair and scratch at his scalp, in a way that makes johnny feel weak.

"you’re being cruel," you breathe, staring down at him. he's looking up at you with something like affection and it makes you pant harder. "if you wanna touch me, you better do it."

you know he's not, not by a long shot—you know he could be crueler, the thought of which shockingly appealing to you.

but johnny seems to like what you've said, smiling even as he's got your tits in his mouth, hands grabbing at your ass. then, he pulls away with a soft pop, insufferable smirk stll playing on his flushed face.

"but i am touching you, sweetheart. gotta be a little more specific."

you huff. he is such a dick. any other man would be falling over himself, but he's so put together it frustrates you.

you kiss him this time, your tongue licking into his mouth; johnny is shameless in showing his appreciation, moaning against your lips, tilting his head so you can explore him a little deeper, palms flat on the curve of your ass. emboldened by how much he seems to like this, you drag your hips forward, over his clothed length—you're almost giddy at the sound he makes. it's like the groan gets caught in his throat, like he's trying not to let it out, but just can't help it.

"fuck," johnny breathes, when you pull away. his pupils are swallowing up all the color in his eyes. "keep doing that."

so you do; a little harder this time, but just as slow, and you don't stop. the tip of his dick catches against you and you gasp, a little high-pitched—johnny's lashes flutter and his head rolls back, hands pushing against you, trying to guide your movements. you're surprised, because he's almost enjoying it a little too much; like it's the first time he's been anything close to touched in a while.

you don't know, but it really has been a bit for him, a month and some change, he isn't counting. johnny has been very busy; that's what he tells himself, but the truth is he hasn't been able to make himself want anyone but you. he hasn't even really tried, to be honest.

it's almost like he knew he would get the chance to have you like this, and he was saving himself, making himself wait so it would be all the better when it finally happened. he's not really thinking about it like that in the moment, though—his mind is kind of going blank, edges blurring together, corners rounding.

johnny angles his hips up towards yours, so he can match the rhythm of your grinding. it somehow feels better like that, and your hands clutch at his shoulders when he surges forward for another kiss. it's breathier this time, more broken—you swear he's letting out whines into your mouth.

"shit, wait—" he finally mutters, tugging on your bottom lip as he pulls away from you. "you almost made me forget what i was gonna do."

truth is, johnny's a little scared he's gonna blow his load in his pants like a teenager if you keep going, so he has to find a way to redirect your attention.

it works beautifully, especially when his hand is moving over your stomach, and then down between your thighs. he watches you the whole time, making you feel extremely exposed. you realize that you're topless and he's still fully clothed, so you reach for the buttons of his shirt, managing to undo a few before he slaps your hand away, and rips through the rest.

you giggle in surprise, cheeks going hot at johnny's eagerness. you press your palms against the expanse of his chest and feel him take a sharp breath.

you're very good at distracting him, but johnny's not going to let himself get tied up this time. he fights through the way you're touching him and continues his task, hand slipping under your bottoms so he can cup your cunt. you shiver, and he presses his middle finger into the seam of your panties, feeling how wet you already are. god, he wants to fuck you, but that somehow seems more serious, and very irreversible. not that he can take any of this back. not that he wants to.

"was that guy really doing it for you, or is this all me?"

johnny tries to sound like he's in control but his voice is strained and a little debauched. you catch the way he says that guy, like he's disgusted at the idea of any other man coming close to having you like he does right now.

"shut up," you try, but it only makes him laugh, dark and breathy. he's rubbing up and down the seam now, soaking the fabric, teasing you the way he's quickly grown very fond of doing. he leans forward and hooks his face into your neck, sucking a bruise right beneath your ear.

"i don't think you really want me to. you seemed to like it when i talked before."

johnny pushes your panties, slowly sliding his middle into you. you feel his hot pants against your neck and let out a soft sigh. how is it that his mouth and his fingers both feel like heaven? you can't imagine them combined. you hope that you won't have to—that he'll just show you how good it feels. maybe next time.

"lucky for you, my mouth's not really occupied this time, so i can talk all you want," he whispers, finger slowly finding a rhythm, palm pressing up into your clit. you whimper softly, eyes fluttering shut—your hands tug at his hair, almost trying to keep him in the crook of your neck, so he won't be able to see how much you're enjoying his touch. (even though it might already be too late for that.)

"i've thought about this so long." your breath hitches at his confession, at his tone of voice, suspiciously unguarded. "wanted this so long."

wanted you, is what you hear, and you bite your bottom lip to stop from moaning out loud. your hips start to grind into his hand and johnny's other comes up to play with your tits, licking at your pulse point.

"you make me fuckin' crazy, sweetheart," he sighs, like finally saying it has lifted a weight from his chest. "you make me pathetic. sometimes i get hard just looking at you. or hearing your pretty voice."

johnny slips another finger inside you and your back arches into him, breathy whimpers shamelessly escaping you, because he's right—you do like it when he talks. you like it a lot. he's got a dirty mouth, but it's laced with something soft, pliable, like he's bearing himself open to you, even though you're the one being touched.

he lifts his head from you and you're forced to make eye contact. there's something dangerously similar to adoration in his gaze and it makes you shiver.

"but you never notice. even now, you're looking at me like you're surprised." his fingers curl inside you, picking up pace, and your head falls to his shoulder. he lets you, even though he would really rather see your beautiful face as you're falling apart.

"what's a guy gotta do, huh? how do i prove to you, how fuckin' badly i want you?" johnny's tone is teasing but it's just in his nature—he really means what he says. he'd do anything you asked him to do to you. god, he'd let you do anything to him.

"johnny," you whine; you don't know how to say anything else. "you—just—"

he laughs at your inability to really tell him what you want to say—he doubts you have anything you want to say at all. "what is it, honey? you wanna cum? c'mon, tell me. i'll give you whatever you want."

his palm grinds hard and slow into your clit, a sharp contrast to the way he's fucking you on his fingers in earnest now. you let out a shaky moan, hips struggling to keep rhythm with his movements.

"yes, please—" you gasp, forcing yourself to face him again. "please, i wanna cum."

johnny's eyes flash so dark your stomach drops. a drawn out groan of surprised disappointment leaves you when he's suddenly retracting his fingers, pulling them out of your panties. you open your mouth to beg him to keep going, but then he's bringing his glistening digits to his lips, and you watch as his eyes flutter shut, tasting you on his own skin.

"you are such a freak," you huff, chest heaving.

he smiles at you but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, because he's already hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. he makes it to his bed in three hurried strides, lies you down on the mattress, and is between your legs before you can complain.

he takes your bottoms off in record time, and your panties, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor. then, his mouth is on you again, and it feels somehow better than the last time—your hips lift up to chase his tongue, a depraved moan escaping you. you hope the music is loud enough.

johnny is not being as careful as he was last time. last time, he was trying to pick you apart, but this time he's already been pieced apart himself, and he's lost in you. he's eating you out like he hasn't had a morsel of food in days, like he's sick and you're the only thing that can make him feel better. your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging to the point of pain, but he just groans into you when you do it, hips jutting forward like he's so turned on he can't contain himself.

it's overwhelming, and you're on the brink of cumming before you can really process it.

"j-johnny!" you keen, hips squirming against him. he's not even bothering holding you down this time, hands grabbing at your thighs to keep himself pressed between them. "oh fuck, i'mgonnacum—!"

your vision whites out, legs tensing around johnny's head so tight you're afraid he's gonna suffocate. he'd like nothing more, and wraps his arms around your thighs to keep you there, makes sure he gets his fill, even as you're gasping and telling him it's too much.

three very loud knocks on his bedroom door make you both freeze, and he finally lets you go—you can't tell if you're relieved or disappointed. you make startled eye contact; johnny just raises his finger to his mouth, telling you to be quiet.

"yeah? i'm kind of busy," he calls, slowly walking around the bed and approaching the door. you sit up on shaky arms, eyes following him. your chest is still heaving, and your brain is lit up with fog, like the night sky right after fireworks.

"doing what? you better not be jerking off in there." you let out a heavy sigh of relief. it's just ben. you know the hulking man is just a sweetheart at his core and would never come in johnny's room unannounced.

johnny looks to you and then back to the door, smile trembling like he's trying to keep in a laugh.

"so what if i was? it's my room, jackass."

ben groans. "just come out, man. sue's looking for you."

you think you're safe, but then ben doubles back, and reminds johnny that you put in a lot of work for this event, and that it would probably hurt your feelings to know he was cooped up in his room hating it. your face grows hot, like that's what really embarrasses you and not the way johnny's face is still casually slick with your heat.

"just be nice to her, alright? she's a very sweet girl."

if only ben knew just how nice johnny had been to you tonight, he thinks, but he just laughs to himself and listens for retreating heavy footsteps.

a beat of awkward silence passes. you let your head fall to the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut, exhaustion and slight regret warring in your body. you're almost upset you don't regret it more.

"so," johnny starts, breaking the quiet. "we should probably get out of here, right? they're gonna be suspicious if we're both gone too long. "

there it is. he's about to pretend nothing happened again, to pretend he didn't say all those things to you, pretend he didn't touch you with reverence saved only for an intimacy you hadn't been familiar with until this. your head is starting to hurt. you're certainly beginning to regret it more now.

"right," you say, "we should get out of here." you force yourself to sit up, stand, walking toward your clothes so you can get dressed again. you expect johnny to move toward his closet and grab another shirt—the one he'd been wearing is lying torn on the floor—but he only watches you, hands on his hips.

"right," he finally echoes. "but... you know. you should probably go first. i need... a couple minutes."

you turn to him, about to ask why, but then your eyes fall to the unmistakable print in his pants, and the small wet stain right where his tip would be. you almost feel badly for blueballing him twice in a row, but not badly enough to suppress your laughter.

"really? a couple minutes, that's all it takes you?"

he scoffs, but there's a grateful smile on his face. "i wouldn't tease, sweetheart. it's not like you've been lasting much longer."

something in you feels emboldened by the things he's whispered to you tonight. you stare at him and a teasing smile plays on your lips, eyes still a little blissed out.

"maybe next time, i'll help you out. we'll see who lasts longer."

you adjust your top and go to walk past him, but johnny catches your arm, and pulls you in. you're surprised when he kisses you. it's soft, unhurried, not as desperate. you feel an uncomfortable ache in your chest when you pull away. there it is again, the adoration in his eyes; this time, he blinks, and it's gone.

"right," johnny whispers, against your lips. "next time."

and when you walk out of his room, glancing down the hallway in both directions to be safe, you can't help the giddy butterflies in your stomach at the thought. next time.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

It's a lovely morning until two small skeletons show up on skeletons' doorstep, looking like they went through the war. They're handplates version of themselves, scared, and freshly escaped from the lab and completely lost. How would the main skeleton react?

Woah, that's a cool ask! If you don't know what we're talking about, I strongly advised you to go check Handplates, by @zarla-s !

Undertale Sans - It's painfully familiar. Sans takes them in, obviously, because he's pretty much the only thing familiar to them right now, even if it's weird. He can tell that small Sans is extremely defensive and jumpy, so he gives him some space for now. He patiently starts collecting information to report to Toriel, targeting small Papyrus as it's clear he's more inclined to talk and desperate for affection. He can say he's surprised to learn who did that to them. Even if he wasn't in lockdown, Sans was suffering from his father's experiments and he can perfectly understand what they're feeling. He's not sure he can be a suitable guardian for them, as their traumas are also his traumas and so it seems complicated to help them when he didn't himself fully deal with them. He's sure Toriel would be glad to welcome them, though.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus is unsure how to deal with the situation. He took them in because it feels they would have never survive one night outside, but now what? Tiny Sans jumps each time he talks a little too loudly, and tiny Papyrus pretty much clings to his legs since he arrived and refused to let go. Papyrus called Undyne first to ask if someone didn't lose two small skeletons, but he thinks he's in denial, as it's very clear to him that these two are past Sans and Papyrus who got very unlucky. They're full of weird-looking scars and old fracture marks, and he for sure doesn't like their handplates. It screams lab rats to him. He tries to help them the best he can, and eventually gets too attached to let them go.

Underswap Sans - Blue doesn't remember much of his parents, as they both died when he was seven years old, but he remembers really clearly the panic he felt when he realized it was just him and his brother now. He doesn't know the story of these two, but he can tell that tiny Blue is completely freaking out right now, not letting him near his brother and weakly growling at him to try to protect him. It hurts so much. Blue wants to help them, but what can he even do? He's no father figure and he knows he doesn't have time to look after children. Well. He knows someone, right?

Underswap Papyrus - WTF. He's used to Blue bringing him kids to foster during police investigations, but Blue never brought a small version of them before. Honey is at a loss for what to do, but he can tell they're in desperate need of help so of course he takes them in. It's not like he really has a choice anyway. Honey tries his best to get them to talk to him. He dealt with abused children before, so he knows pushing them won't do any good. He gets them to trust him in less than a week, but still doesn't rush them to talk and instead focus on making sure they feel at home and safe. He's feeling like he's healing his and Blue's inner children, but try not to think of them too much as a version of themselves. He's not letting them go anyway. Honey got attached the second they put a foot home.

Underfell Sans & Papyrus - Well, this is a complicated situation. Edge was so disturbed he brought them home, but didn't realize right away the brothers were only together because they were scared. The first time they started fighting for real, Red and Edge struggled to separate them, and had to keep them in separate rooms for the night. It's pretty clear they went through some dark shit and were forced to compete with each other for basic needs. For their good, the brothers keep them separated for now, each taking their mini self home with the intent of slowly introducing them to each other again. Red can tell that small Red is mostly scared, and tries to scare him by the way, by looking big and scary, even though he's half his size. He has a lot of issues too, but Red can tell he's desperate to trust. Red is not the best at that, but tries to be here for him, even though it's like looking himself in a mirror and he doesn't like it. Edge is having the same struggles, as little Edge is aggressive and tries to attack him every time he's moving a little too fast. Edge is careful around him now, trying to get him to trust, even though he knows it's going to be complicated. He's aware it's going to be long and complicated to get them to overcome their fears, but he's willing to try. He wants to do things right for them, so they never have to go through what Red and he did.

Horrortale Sans & Papyrus - It's bad. Willow can tell that small Papyrus recently had bones broken in a brutal way that is all but natural, and the fact that small Sans won't even look his way when he moves his hand too fast is speaking louder than any words. Both brothers are horrified they had been treated that way and agreed in less than two days that their place was safe, on the farm, with them and immediately gets to work to help them heal. Oak got triggered by how thin they were and the fact that they clearly never had real food in their life, as they kept asking what basic vegetables are. He's making sure they have three big meals a day and gets distressed when they're not hungry. Willow is the one trying to get them to talk. First, a bit impressed by his size, they quickly understood Willow was actually safe and able to protect them. Willow had long, long, looooong nights talking with little Sans and giving him advice on what to do from now on, while small Papyrus was just looking for someone to love him, and that's good, because cuddling on the couch for hours is something Oak loves to do. Willow asks advice to Toriel, and even educates himself with professionals on how to deal with children's traumas, and tries to apply them the best he can on the children, trying to get them to feel comfortable enough to show their true personalities. It helps the brothers, too, actually, as a lot of their traumas are just their traumas in a different context, and so all of them are working to get better.

Swapfell Sans & Papyrus - Ouch. That's not good. Well, the immediate problem after finding the children is Rus suddenly getting cold to his brother. It's not on purpose, but seeing these two so close when Nox never cared about him as a kid kinda triggered Rus and made him take a step back, leaving an emotionally distressed Nox to deal with the situation. Nox doesn't know what to do with them. Rus has a point: he's never here, and he's clearly not what these children need right now. They need someone who can be there for them. Someone... Well, someone like Rus. Rus that made very clear the second they came he didn't want to intervene in this, and made sure the kids hear it. Nox is definitely not giving them to Toriel, he knows how this will end, so... He finds time. No matter he's already on the verge of burnout, he's going to be there and find time for them anyway, and hope for the best. They deserve better than what his brother and he went through. It's not their fault they were born in this stupid world. He knows he's far from perfect, but he tries to do better than with Rus. He wants to help.

Fellswap Gold Sans & Papyrus - Wine welcomed them because Coffee wanted to help, but he can tell that it was that little shit's plan all along. He acted all sad and miserable so he could enter the house and empty his fridge. Wine doesn't trust that small him even one second, and, well, the opposite is true too. It's tense at home, and none of them gets along, because both Wine are way too defensive of their own brother. For their own good, and his, Wine "gifts" them to Toriel and Asgore lol. He knows he'll probably regret not killing them when he had the chance in a few years, when the King and the Queen will train them to go after him, but thinks about his reputation. Killing children? It's not him at all. Besides, Coffee got attached, and would get mad if he got rid of them, so that's the best compromise. Still, he's going to make sure that little shit knows his place and doesn't come near him again by scaring him to death.

[thesugarhole]

亡國覚醒カタルシス - 鏡音レン 【VOCALOIDカバー】 Cielo on Nicovideo

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[moonstruckme]

hi honey! this is quite a personal ask and it's a very touchy subject so if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine!

I recently found out I'm infertile and won't be able to have biological children- I would love it if you wrote something with poly!marauders comforting a reader whose always wanted biological children but finds out she's infertile?

no pressure because this is a sensitive topic- but it would mean the world if you do x

Hi lovely, I'm so sorry about how jarring that must be for you. Thanks for your request <3

cw: grief related to infertility

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 626 words

You hadn’t cried when you found out. It had been a slow, seeping revelation. A shock you don’t know how to get past. So it comes as a surprise when, after sharing the news with your boyfriends, tears spill from your eyes. 

Sirius moves first, as he often does, his arms wrapping tight around your middle. “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling you to his chest. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

You don’t know if it’s a loss for him the way it is for you; you never really got around to talking about it, and now it’s a moot point. You appreciate the sentiment anyway. Remus’ hand has been on your knee since you’d sat them down on the couch, a comfort for whatever difficult conversation he sensed was coming, but he’s still now, in shock as you have been. On Sirius’ other side, you hear a dismayed breath go out of James. 

“I’m sorry, too,” you whimper. Sirius doubles down on the comfort, arms a vice and mushing kiss after heavy kiss into your hair while you weep. 

“Hey,” says James, gently. His hand comes to rest on your back, big enough to touch both shoulder blades. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s going to be okay.” 

“Jamie,” Remus murmurs. 

“It is, lovely. If you really want it, we’ll figure something out.” 

“But we don’t need to do that today.” Remus’ tone is at once stern and gentle. His pinkie makes a couple of short strokes over your leg. “I know how much it meant to you to have kids on your own, dovey,” he says, softer. “I’m sorry.” 

James sounds wounded. “I only meant that we’re with you. Or that we’re here for you, you know. Whatever you need.” 

You pick your head up from Sirius’ chest. Sirius allows it, though by the way his hands tighten on you only just, so that you can give James a watery smile. 

“I know,” you tell him. And you do. It’ll all be alright in the end is the motto James lives by; whatever the opposite of a defeatist is, your sweetheart boyfriend is that all over. But you only want to be sad right now. It’s a new sort of mourning for you, mourning a future you’ve never known and now you can’t have. “It’s okay, I get it.” 

James’ expression is already creased with sympathy, but at your teary eyes he starts to look like he may cry, too. “I love you,” he says, squeezing your shoulder softly. “We’ve got you, you know that.” 

You nod, because you do. You feel it like a pleasant weight right now, just in the center of your hurt. 

Sirius has begun swaying you gently, his lips pressed to your head like he plans simply to leave them there. “What do you want to do, sweetness? Just for now, what do you need?” 

You try to clear your throat, but your voice still comes out fractured. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay to just be sad,” says Remus. His voice has dropped to a soothing timbre, like logs crackling in a fireplace or the sea shushing over rock. “If you want to just stay here for a while, or cry some more, that’s perfectly alright.” 

His understanding draws another sob out of you, your face going back to Sirius’ chest as you give into grief. 

“Oh, my love.” Sirius hugs you even tighter, and then a second pair of arms comes around you, James hugging you both. Remus’ touch moves up your leg as you feel the couch dip closer to you, his lips pressing to the side of your head a moment later. You feel engulfed by love and caring. “I’m sorry, lovely,” Sirius whispers against your hairline. “We’ve got you.” 

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Gilmore Girls characters reacting to you asking to "try on" their lipgloss/chapstick as a way to kiss them (headcanons)

Characters included: Lorelai, Luke, Rory, Lane, Dean, Paris, Jess, and Logan

Warnings/contains: gn! reader, kissing (obviously), fluffiness, umm nothing other than that I don't think

Beginning notes: this idea is so stupid I know!! but I thought it might be cute to write out okay (I also need to practice writing for these characters more)

Lorelai Gilmore

Oh God. You so much as lightly suggest to wanting to try on her lipgloss or chapstick and she pulls out a whole makeup pouch full of them with all kinds in different flavors and colors and sizes and shapes and-

You can't even get a word in the first couple of minutes that she's speaking because she's taking the time to go through them all, trying to find the best one that would fit you perfectly

She doesn't quite pick up on what you're asking her right away until she finally pauses and sees the shy and somewhat hopeful smile on your face, but once she does catch on she gets all giddy and a little smug, saying something along the lines of "aw, you little rascal you, c'mere" before giving you the kiss you so desired

Luke Danes

He absolutely does not understand what you're trying to ask him at all, mostly because he doesn't wear chapstick anyway. You literally have to spell it for him step-by-step and he still won't get it

"Here, take this chapstick and put it on so I can kiss you"

"Why do I need to put it on for you to kiss me? Are my lips really that chapped?"

"No, it's so I can ask to try the chapstick on and then kiss you afterwards"

"...but I can just give you the chapstick and then have you put it on. Why would I need to put it on first? That doesn't make any sense"

He's basically just like "??" the entire time you're attempting to explain it to him, and he only kind of gets it by the tenth try, though he does manage to pick up on the idea that if he wears chapstick more often you might kiss him more, so your plan sort of ends up working ig

Rory Gilmore

It's a toss-up as to whether she'll immediately pick up on what you're asking her or not, though she'll probably get it within the first couple of minutes or so, her cheeks flushing a rosy hue as she avoids eye contact and stammers a little bit

"W- Well, I think I might have some extra in my bag if you're that desperate... oh, I'm guessing you must've meant the other way you try on someone's lipgloss or chapstick, huh? I should've known"

After that she just sort of awkwardly sits there, waiting to see which one of you is going to make the first move (it's probably going to have to be you) and then after the kiss she seems to be in a daze for a moment or so before clearing her throat and hastily changing the subject

Lane Kim

I actually think she'll pick up on what you're asking her fairly quickly, though she might play dumb unless she's certain the two of you are alone so her mom won't find out she was kissing someone randomly after they posed her such a flirtatious question

She'll most likely let you take the lead (unless you're as inexperienced as she is), melting into it as the kiss goes from a short and sweet peck to something much more tender, almost forgetting what you were even supposed to be doing in the first place

Afterwards, all she can do is say "wow" for the next couple of minutes or so, appearing a little awestruck, though she does make a cheeky comment about how the chapstick/lipgloss you now have on you compliments your complexion once she gets over the initial shock of it all

Dean Forester

He doesn't really get it at first but picks up on what you mean pretty quickly once you explain (thank God) so you're spared the embarrassment of fumbling over your words for any longer than you have to. He thinks it's cute despite you disagreeing with him on that

Makes a big show of applying a fresh layer of chapstick just for you, and is even so kind as to lean down so you're not craning your neck and having to stand up on your tippy toes to be able to reach him

Gives you an affectionate pat on the head once he's done kissing you because he's obligated to make you aware of how short you are compared to him at least once every time you see him while saying "there, happy now?", chuckling as he enjoys the indignant look on your face while you smack his hand away

Paris Geller

She honestly just sort of glares at you when you first ask ("I don't wear lipgloss, and I left my chapstick at home this morning")

Definitely is one where you have to explain to her what you mean, to which she answers with a soft little "oh" in response, almost as if she feels a bit sheepish for her initial aloof demeanor

It's kind of awkward for a couple of minutes after until one of you changes the subject, and you think that's the end of it until later that day when she approaches you, her face red and her lips looking shiny

"If you still want to try it on, you may." When you hesitate, she huffs in aggravation and demands "well? Are you going to try it on or not?"

You don't even think about questioning her further because of how flustered she obviously is, planting an affectionate kiss to her lips before watching in amusement as she stalks away, grumbling to herself as she wipes off the excess lipgloss on the back of her hand

Jess Mariano

Okay say what you will but I think he'd catch onto what you mean fairly quickly, especially if you're looking a little flustered when you ask

"Oh, so you wanna try on my chapstick, do you? In what way, exactly?"

He absolutely teases you first, adding something along the lines of "maybe I forgot to wear chapstick this morning. Still wanna try on my lips and see how they fit? I promise I'll be gentle. I'll only bite if you beg me" while he nuzzles his face against the side of your jaw before finally giving in and kissing you the way you want

Never play the flirting game with him and expect to win is all I can say because he'll come out on top nearly every time

Logan Huntzberger

He's another one who I think would actually understand what you're asking, he just plays dumb at first to see how frustrated he can make you

"Hm, I don't think I have any chapstick on me... didn't I see you grab some before we left, though? Maybe you should check your pockets"

If you were trying to catch him off guard with your question I'm sorry to say it doesn't work. You only realize he's messing with you when you spot the playful grin on his face

"What's the matter? Can't find it? Or did you still wanna try on mine?"

The soft, muffled laughter that escapes him at the insistent kisses he ends up letting you attack him with are so worth the annoyance he made you feel beforehand

End notes: some of these are a little bit longer than others, sorry about that! I tried to keep them all the same length but alas I do not control the little guy in my head who directs me on what to write 😔 /j

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[pomefioredove]

Hey Dove~

I was reading through the different headcannons and the mute reader really caught my attention. Could you possibly do the Vice Wardens (including Ruggie cuz he's basically second in command anyway) with Yuu that has a speech impediment? Basically they stutter/stumble on words, get them mixed up, pronounces them wrong, and maybe forgets certain words. And obviously with new arcana and magical words (and the weird ahh names some of these characters have) they can get pretty frusterated or embarressed.

You always have such good headcannons!! Feel free to throw in any other characters that you like to the mix as well!!

OH this hits close to home too. I stutter and mispronounce things when I do speak, so I'm using that for reference

twst x mute reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader with a speech impediment

summary: as described type of post: headcanons characters: trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

see, I don't think Trey would say anything about it

he's not one to criticize strangeness

that would be rude, first of all

second of all, there's no such thing as "normal" at NRC

(even so, some people may point it out, but he's not one of them)

he doesn't have any trouble understanding you, either

he grew up with younger siblings who pronounced owl as "awa" and kitty as "shishi" until they were six

he's certainly patient

and he knows how to use context

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

honestly? Ruggie didn't even... notice?

for a while, he just thought you talked fast

he knows how it goes; you get excited or nervous or whatever, and you end up stumbling all over yourself

no biggie

then one day you come up to him all sad and teary, apologizing for a speech impediment he didn't even know you had, and he's like...

...oh! no!

of course he's not annoyed!

Ruggie's an adaptive guy, after all. when he wants something, he'll bend backwards for it

you think a little stuttering is gonna stop him from being friends with you?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

much like Trey, Jade doesn't say anything

he just watches you talk

and smiles

like this -> :)

it's not that he's particularly concerned about being rude, he's just...

observing

humans are such fascinating creatures, he thinks

he learns all of your quirks just by listening to you

which words you have trouble with, which ones you mix up and forget, which consonants you stumble over...

he teaches himself your language

and he becomes a sort of translator for you

any time someone is rude to you, he'll come out of nowhere and tell them everything you said in the exact order you said it

weird, but nice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

to put it plainly, Jamil has bigger problems

whether or not he can understand you doesn't really matter to him

it's not his job to worry over you

then, you come to him asking for help, and...

...well, he's flattered

he can't deny he likes that you come to him for guidance before anyone else

because of this, (and because he had to learn how to control his own tongue when he was little), he takes pity on you

whether your goal is to work on your speech, or to simply feel less anxiety about it, he's there

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

is it cliche to say that Rook already knows exactly what you're thinking?

perhaps, but it's true

he's mastered the art of observation

he can read your thoughts in your expression, your body language, even the slightest twitch in your lips gives you away

he just knows

you don't have to be a good speaker, or a speaker at all, to communicate with Rook

(and he can do all the talking for you if you'd like, he'd probably enjoy that)

and, of course, he is of the opinion that there is beauty in everything

you don't need to be perfectly clear and concise for him to like you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, I can't guarantee that Lilia won't tease a little

only in good fun, of course

and only if you respond in kind

but he does find it rather cute when you mispronounce something, or mix up your words

he won't correct you or interrupt you, either

he'll step in to help if you're really struggling, of course, but he thinks of you as capable

he does remind you to take breathers when you're getting too anxious about it, though

he cares <3

[gayandbasic]

Silhouette part 4: Consumed

Bob Reynolds X Female!reader || WC: 3k

Summary: Just as you think you’re free the worst happens and this time you unleash the monster beneath your skin without a second thought. The darkness is all consuming.

TW: mentions of abuse and trauma, talk of depression and suicidal ideation, canon typical violence, canonical divergence

Fair warning:

This chapter diverges from the canonical storyline and there will be POV shifts going forward.

~ marks a shift in POV.

I’m not sure if y’all will still like it and I’m hoping it’s not too ooc.

Prologue ✼ Part 1 ✼ Part 2 ✼ Part 3 ✼__✼ Part 5

Silhouette Character Concept

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✧༺🩶༻∞ ✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“I don’t want to be carried anymore.”

Bob’s voice is a quiet complaint, almost a pout, as John and Yelena drag him between past the armed men and bright lights. You trail silently in the shadow they cast across the floor, tucked safely in the darkness just beneath their feet.

“Shut up, Bob. You’re injured, remember?” John huffs, but there’s a gentleness under the gruff tone.

You smile to yourself in the dark. Adorable.

Once you’re clear of prying eyes and heavy footfalls, your voice slips through the gloom like a haunted breeze: “Where’s Ava?”

John jumps. “Christ, don’t do that.”

“She’s gone. Of course she’s gone,” he grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

Before you can argue, an armored truck screeches into view—and Ava leans casually out the driver’s side window with a perfectly timed, “Hey. Get in.”

Relief warms your chest. Of course she didn’t leave. She didn’t in the incinerator, and she wouldn’t now.

You slip into the back of the vehicle with Bob as John and Yelena climb up front.

“You two gonna be okay back there?” Yelena asks, giving you both a quick once-over with that ever-watchful older sister energy

“Yeah all good” says Bob as the two of you settle in the back of the armored vehicle. Then it’s just you and him as the engine rumbles to life and the silence between you stretches until he clears his throat.

“Hey, uh… I never really caught what to call you. I know you said you were called a bunch of names, but… what do you prefer?”

His voice is quiet, genuine. The question catches you off guard.

You glance over at him, lips twitching into something faint and real. “Seven is fine. I spent most of my life being called ‘it’ or ‘project.’ At least 07 was mine. A name just for me. Even if it’s only a number.”

You rub your palms along your thighs, the habit automatic, grounding.

Bob’s gaze softens. There’s a flicker of understanding in his eyes that makes something twist in your chest.

“Seven it is,” he says with a crooked smile. “Sounds way cooler than Bob, anyway.”

You don’t have time to unpack the warmth those words leave behind—don’t have time to ask yourself why his smile hits you so hard—because the truck lurches to a halt, jarring you both into silence.

You hold your breath. Voices echo from the front. Soldiers. John. They are asking questions you all were unprepared for.

And from the sound of it—John is absolutely fumbling it.

You feel panic rise in your chest. Mind racing you begin to think, to plan. But Bob’s already one step ahead. He shrugs off his disguise and grabs a rifle, moving toward the door.

You grab his arm before he can leap out. “What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

“I’m going to create a distraction. Give the rest of you a chance.”

His words hit like a fist to the ribs. You shake your head, grip tightening. “No. Absolutely not. Are you insane? They’ll shoot you down before you take two steps.”

But he’s resolute. The voices outside grow louder. He tugs his arm free.

“This is better for everyone,” he says softly, eyes locked on yours, firm.

“Better for who exactly?” you snap, then sigh. “Fine. But you’re not doing this alone. Together. We go together.”

He starts to argue, but you silence him with a glare—and vanish into his shadow before he can stop you.

The world explodes into chaos the moment the two of you step into the light. Dozens of rifles raise in unison, spotlights blinding. You lash out instinctively, sending your shadows forward like a tidal wave. They snake out, grasping at enemy silhouettes, freezing them mid-step. Guns clatter. Soldiers gasp for breath, you were told once that it feels like someone is pulling the life right out of you when you hold their shadows.

But there are too many. You strain to hold them in place, your exhaustion and blood loss really taking its toll as you start to slip when more push forward, weapons raised.

“I—I can’t hold them all,” you gasp, your voice fraying at the edges. “Bob, you have to—”

A gunshot cracks the air.

It’s Bob to your horror.

He fires into the sky, again and again, trying to draw attention—creating enough panic for the others to escape. The truck lurches forward in your periphery. It’s working but you feel the soldiers gain control back weapons raising.

“Go,” he says, voice low but urgent. “I know you can make it back to them.”

You want to argue. Scream. Beg.

Then the order is given.

“Fire!”

The hold you have on the soldiers snapping as you let out a shriek.

“NO!!” You move without thinking—shifting in front of him, shadows whipping around you to form a shield—but you’re too late. The bullets rip through him and Bob collapses behind you.

Something in you shatters when Bob hits the ground.

He’s dead.

They killed him.

Theykilledhimtheykilledhimtheykilledhimkilledkilledkilledkilledkilledkilledkill kill

KILL

You don’t even remember screaming. You explode.

It starts deep in your chest—a sharp pressure that ruptures—then breaks forth like a dam bursting. The shadows twist unnaturally beneath your feet, writhing like something alive, something hungry. You fall to your knees—but it’s not grief that brings you down.

It’s your muscles seizing, flesh tearing body hunching over as it unravels and remakes itself.

Your body fractures to make room for the sorrow you feel.

Bones snap with sickening cracks, elongating in ways they were never meant to. Joints wrench at wrong angles, twist, then pop back into place in configurations that don’t belong to anything human. Your spine arches, dislocates, reforms, vertebrae grinding like teeth. Fingers stretch into claws, then split—splitting again—multiplying into a writhing bouquet of jagged limbs. Your skin no longer stretches—it ribbons, peeling away in strips of smoke and ink-black ichor, revealing a second form beneath: sinew and blight, coalescing into something monstrous.

Your mouth unhinges, fangs blooming like shards of obsidian, too many for a human jaw. A low, rattling hiss bleeds from your throat, reverberating like a scream echoing through a thousand hollowed-out corpses.

Eyes blink open along your shoulders. And your ribs. And your back.

All of them weeping shadow.

You don’t remember standing—but suddenly, you’re towering over the soldiers. Your silhouette stretches unnaturally, impossibly, a spindly puppet threaded by darkness. The air around you freezes. Lights stutter and flicker. Reality pulls away from you, like the world itself is trying not to touch you.

The Umbra swallows you whole.

And what comes out… is no longer just you.

It’s every nightmare given shape. It’s vengeance without restraint. It’s what the scientists tried to build in a lab and couldn’t contain.

The monster they made.

You are gone.

There is no “you”—only rage, screaming, and the gnawing darkness that howls through your skull like a storm trying to peel the flesh from your bones. You don’t think—you consume. Rip. Tear. Shriek. Something warm sprays across your limbs—blood, maybe. Screams echo, but they don’t reach you. They bend around you, like light around a black hole.

You are the thing in the dark now. Fangs, claws, a thousand eyes, and too many hands. A night terror made real. A curse that breathes sorry and anger.

You don’t remember why you’re angry.

You just know you are as you feel that anger claw and consume its way out of you an unending grief fuelled fury.

~

Bob opens his eyes with a gasp.

After being hit by a barrage of bullets he floated back upright, dazed, breath catching in his throat.

He should’ve been dead.

The last thing he saw was the gunfire, the searing pain—no, not pain, the expectation of pain—followed by darkness. But now… he blinked, glancing down at himself in disbelief. His shirt was shredded, singed in places, but his skin beneath was untouched. Not a single drop of blood. No holes. No agony.

Just a strange warmth pulsing through him, like golden static behind his ribs.

“What the hell…?” he muttered, just as the world around him exploded.

He turned—and what he saw didn’t seem real.

You had changed. No—transformed. Where you once stood was now a creature born of ink and fury, all jagged limbs and teeth that shimmered like obsidian glass. Your body pulsed with shadows that whipped and twisted, tearing into soldiers like paper. Rifles clattered to the sand, untouched men screaming as their own shadows turned on them—choking, binding, dragging them down.

Bob stumbled backward, eyes wide. A man tried to run—only to be yanked backward into the air, screaming as tendrils pierced through his chest, his shadow peeling off the ground like skin from flesh. Blood misted across the desert air, catching the light in horrific sparkles.

He should’ve been horrified.

And he was—but not of you.

What terrified him wasn’t the monster in the sand.

It was the sound you made—the guttural, cracking sound of a soul breaking.

He saw it beneath the violence. The agony. The grief. The way your monstrous form seemed to tremble beneath the rage. This wasn’t revenge.

It was mourning.

You thought they’d killed your friend. That they’d killed him. And now you were unraveling.

Bob’s heart slammed in his chest. He didn’t know what he was anymore, or how he was still standing—but he knew one thing:

He had to bring you back.

~

Valentina stares from behind the barricade—frozen in horror. She should be next. She would’ve been… a razor sharp claw reaching.

Until—

“Seven…”

A voice.

Soft. Fragile.

Bob.

You freeze mid-lunge, your limbs twitching, spasming like a puppet whose strings were just cut. Your claws dig into the flesh of soldiers before you, then into the concrete leaving cracks like spiderwebs. Your shoulders heave. The shadows writhe, confused, angry—hungry still—but your body won’t move.

Then you hear it again.

“Hey. I-It’s me,” Bob’s voice trembles, but not from fear. From worry. From care. “I’m okay. See? I’m okay.”

You slowly turn your head, twisting at an unnatural angle.

Through the ink-mist and twitching horror, you see him—standing not five feet from you. Pale. Shirt torn. Bullet holes in the clothes… but not his skin. Not even scratched. The soldiers had missed. Or maybe something protected him. You don’t know. Can’t think. Thoughts crashing against the wall of jagged shadows in your mind.

The creature that wears your skin rears back—ready to lunge again.

Bob steps closer.

He moved towards you.

Everyone else is screaming. A woman yells for him to stop. But he doesn’t even flinch.

His hand reaches out.

“You’re not a monster,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Your limbs twitch violently—like something trying to crawl out of its own skin. The Umbra inside you bucks, furious, lashing against your ribs. The thing doesn’t want to go back into the dark.

But he is here, unhurt.

He’s not running.

He’s not afraid.

Your claws begin to shrink, curling back into fingers. Your breath comes in gasps—choking, wheezing. The eyes on your shoulders blink, then dissolve like melting candle wax. The limbs recede, retreating into your skin with sick, wet pops. Shadows drip off you like molasses.

Bob gently kneels in front of you.

“You stayed back for me,” he says, smiling faintly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “So I’m here to bring you back.”

You crumple forward, your monstrous shape folding in on itself like an imploding star. Ink turns to tears. Fangs to teeth. Smoke to skin. Your form collapses into you, small again, shaking. Human, almost.

Bob catches you before you hit the ground.

You clutch his shirt with trembling hands, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“I—I thought you were dead,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, broken. “I saw you fall.”

“I know,” he murmurs, rubbing slow circles on your back like he’s soothing a scared animal. “But I’m here. I’m okay. And so are you.”

You shiver in his arms, shadows still curling around your ankles, hesitant to let go.

But he holds you like he’s not afraid of the dark at all.

You take a deep breath, exhaustion sinking into your bones as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. His warmth seeps into your skin like sunlight through thick glass. With his help, you manage to stand—legs trembling, body aching.

And for a moment, the carnage is forgotten. The screams, the blood, the monster you became—all forgotten. Just the two of you in a stillness that feels almost sacred.

You take one step back, just to steady yourself.

But then pain—white-hot and cruel—rips through your back like a lightning strike.

Your breath catches. A strangled gasp slips your lips as your legs buckle. You fall, crumpling into Bob’s arms, blood blooming down your spine.

He catches you, arms tightening instinctively. “No—no no no,” he breathes, horror rising in his voice.

Behind you, a soldier stands shaking, gun still raised, barrel smoking. His hands tremble so violently he nearly drops the weapon.

Bob stares at him with eyes that blaze gold.

He looks ready to burn the world down.

But your eyes are closing. Your thoughts are slow and slurred.

Second time today, you think numbly. Getting real tired of bullets.

You feel wind on your face—Bob moving, running? No, are those clouds? You’re distracted by him, he’s yelling something. His voice is panicked, frayed at the edges. Terror and begging tangled together.

But the sound muffles quickly.

Your limbs go heavy. Your head lolls.

You try to keep your eyes open—for him—but you’re already fading. The darkness comes soft this time. Not cruel. Not cold. Just… final.

And the last thing you remember is the look on his face—

Confusion and fear, not of you but for you.

~

Bob caught you before you hit the ground.

One moment you were standing—blood blooming across your back like a red flower in the dark—and the next, you collapsed into him, body going limp with terrifying finality. Your weight hit his chest, and he staggered, instinctively tightening his grip, lowering them both with desperate care.

The world around them was chaos—soldiers shouting, guns still raised, boots crunching over shattered glass and spent shells. But none of it reached him. All Bob could hear was your ragged, weakening breath against his collarbone. All he could see was you—folded in his arms, trembling, fading.

He pressed his forehead to yours, gently. Reverent. “Hey,” he whispered. “Stay with me. Please…”

Your eyes were fluttering closed. Blood soaked his arms, hot and wet and very real. His hands shook as they cradled the back of your head, your body far too still in his grasp.

His emotions swelled then—

Fear.

Rage.

Something inside him cracked.

The soldier who’d fired—he didn’t matter anymore. Not in the face of this. Bob didn’t think. Didn’t plan. He just moved.

With a cry that tore itself from the bottom of his throat, Bob clutched your limp form to his chest and leapt.

Straight into the air.

The ground vanished beneath him.

His stomach lurched as the earth dropped away like a trapdoor. Wind screamed past his ears, and the world tilted—until he realized he wasn’t falling.

He was ascending.

Rocketing skyward like a human missile, powered by something raw and unfamiliar—something buried deep inside, just now waking up.

His arms were locked tight around you, shielding you with everything he had. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he gasped, barely able to believe the words, the movement, the sky itself rushing up to meet you both.

Bullets pinged somewhere below, but the sound grew fainter by the second.

The sky cracked open with stars and wind, the dark horizon stretching wide beneath his feet.

And Bob just held you closer.

Your breath still fluttered—shallow, but there.

Alive.

He didn’t know what he was doing. Didn’t know how he was doing it. But none of that mattered.

He soared.

The night sky stretched above them—vast, uncaring, and star-pierced. Wind roared past Bob’s ears, but all he could hear was the soft rasp of your breath against his chest.

You felt too light. Too still.

“Stay with me,” he muttered, arms locked around you, clutching you like he could anchor your soul in place by force of will alone. “Please… just—just hold on.”

The wind screamed louder.

He didn’t know how he was flying. Didn’t care. His mind was white-hot panic and raw instinct, his body surging with something unnatural—something golden and burning.

But fire doesn’t last forever.

He didn’t have a plan and as he slowed the ascent he looked around the vast sea of open sky and stars. Panic replacing that rage, fear returning in full force.

It started in his hands—numbness crawling inward like frostbite. Then his shoulders gave out, then his chest. His lungs spasmed.

The fire inside him flickered.

Then died.

And gravity remembered.

He plummeted.

The wind turned vicious, howling around him like a living thing. Sand rushed up to meet them—flat, featureless, unrelenting. The cold desert air cut into his skin, stealing what little warmth remained.

He twisted mid-fall, angling his body, shielding you.

His own consciousness leaving.

He just fell.

And then—

Impact.

The world exploded.

The two of you slammed into the sand like a meteor. A dull, concussive thud reverberated through the dunes, scattering grit and dust in every direction. A crater bloomed beneath you, swallowing the darkness in a spray of earth and bone-shaking force.

The sky above blurred, stars smearing like wet paint.

You remained clutched to his chest.

Even unconscious his arms refused to let go.

And then…

Stillness.

Dust drifted lazily through the air above. The crater glowed faintly under the silver of the moon. No voices. No footsteps. Just the hush of the desert and the silence between two bodies tangled together in a ruin of pain and something softer.

Alone.

But alive.

For now

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼ ✧༺🩶༻∞ ✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Next Part

A/N: I hope this was ok? I’m a little scared to go so far off what happens in the movie but I really want to explore what happens on bobs side when he’s with Valentina and I have some ideas on how to go forward because honestly it kinda bugged me how Bob would just listen to her over Yelena and the others like he knew them the same amount of time. I think I can play a little more on how he becomes Sentry this way too.

As always thank you all so much for reading.

Tag list: @otometo @katiemrty @hyperfixations-go-brrr

[beloveds-embrace]

you wrote this:

Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

I can see the conversation with johnny playing out. you're sat at the table for the first time in ages, having dinner with john and simon when johnny notices you haven't touched your food.

"Is something wrong with the meal? I can make you something else if it's not to your liking."

and you say just as polite as can be, "I didn't want to mention it before because i didn't want to embarrass you but your dishes were always a bit lacking. you seem to have trouble with the timing of the meals and sent food out burnt or undercooked. I felt it was better if I just didn't have any so as not to hurt your feelings. a delicate stomach, you understand."

and johnny has to stand there called out bc what reader said is technically true but it was said so politely, and he's really not a bad cook. he just can't argue with you about it without saying he did it on purpose.

anyways i'm loving all these stories, the way you're telling them is wonderful!

<33

You got it so perfectly like yes 😩

Original Post

I’m just imagining the way the room falls into stunned silence. John freezes mid-cut into his steak, his eyes flicking between you and Johnny. Simon raises a single brow, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp with interest. Johnny, meanwhile, stands there as though struck, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

The words are technically true, delivered with such measured civility that he can’t argue without admitting the malice behind his past actions. His face reddens, his hands clenching briefly at his sides before he forces a tight smile. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll… I’ll do better next time.”

What else can he even say? Fully admit that he’d been purposely, pettily feeding you horrible food?

“Thank you,” you just reply with a nod, already turning your attention back to your plate. The faint clink of silverware resumes as you cut into the fruits instead, unbothered by the tension that now thickens the air. Still… “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it in a way to… embarras you.”

“It’s… alright, Your Grace. I understand.” And thus, Johnny leaves, mouth pursed shut like a wound trying to stitch closed.

Across the table, John clears his throat, attempting to dispel the awkwardness that settles. “It seems you’ve developed a sharper tongue than I recall, Duchess.” He says, his tone light but laced with something.

You look up briefly, your expression serene. You skewer a grape on your fork, and let it hang there for a few seconds. “Only when necessary, Your Grace.”

From his place in the shadows just outside the dining room, König listens silently, his pale eyes narrowing beneath his mask. He says nothing, but the satisfaction in his stance is palpable. When you finally leave the dining room, ignoring the heavy stares from Simon and John the entire dinner, König falls into step beside you as always. Closer to you than your own shadow.

“You spoke well, mylady,” he murmurs as the two of you step into the cool night air of the garden. His voice holds a note of pride, and he offers you his arm. “They deserved no less.”

You glance up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I’m glad you think so. Your opinion.. it’s the only one that matters.” And with that, you take his arm, leading him toward the quiet paths that have become yours and König’s alone.

[ssentimentals]

Hi hi! I wanna join the prompt game, can I request number 8 with dino or han? Honestly it reminds me of that one time when han knelt in front of dino so he wanted to get into the taxi to go home, I dunno whether that'll help u or not, anyway hope u have a splendid day and thank you!

hi hi! i am not sure which episode you're talking about, but i hope you don't mind me taking a slight detour on this :) hope you have a splendid day too, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: 'taxi- taxi!'

dino was never known for patience. he wasn't exactly famous for his emotional outbursts, but his inability to stay level-headed during stressful situations was known. so he tried to get better, especially with you. because for you he's ready to swim in the sea of patience, to keep his annoyance or frustration at bay, because he can't do this to you. and he's been doing so good, but-

'i said i don't want to talk,' you cut off, not letting him get a word in between. 'and i don't want to stay here, so i'm out.'

dino's left eye twitches and he grits his teeth. he can handle all of your moods, but not the one when you refuse to talk, to let you two make up and understand each other. 'baby, don't do this. let's sit and talk, yeah? i'm sure all of this is just one big misunderstanding.'

'i don't know about you, but i understood everything perfectly and no, i'm not gonna talk. i'm just gonna-' you move out of the door and dino rushes after you. '-do not come after me!'

'babe, please.' dino catches you by the wrist and tugs at it gently. 'don't run, just listen to me.'

there's no way he's going to let you go, because then you will just overthink everythign and end up crying feeling horrible and he doesn't want that, doesn't want you to feel bad even for a second when he knows that a simple talk can help. he can see they way you're trembling, can tell how hurt you are and he can't possibly let you go now. 'baby, just-'

'taxi- taxi!' you shout, calling a yellow cab driver who's parked not far from you.

'for fuck's sake,' dino mutters and raises a hand, letting the driver know that he's not needed. he tightens his grip on your wrist and pushes you back, making you fall into his arms. 'look at me. just look at me and listen to me for a second, my god. baby, please.'

you stare at him stubbornly, ready to bold in any moment and dino quickly ushers: 'where are you running to? for what? to cry all alone when you can cry with me? i can hold you, i can listen to everything you say, i can make you feel better. i can become better for you, i can apologize, i can make everything good again. why are you running? to be sad without me? you're going to just sit in that taxi and overthink and come to all the wrong conclusions.' dino moves to cradle your face in his palms, looking at you with all the love in the world. 'i am here, take out your frustration on me. what you're doing right now is not helping any of us and it's definitely not helping our relationships.'

he knows he somehow got through the thick wall you built, because your body loses some of the tension and you sag in his arms slightly. glaring, you lightly hit his chest. 'you can be such an ass sometimes.'

dino readily agrees. 'i know, i'm sorry. but i do believe it's just a one big misunderstanding. you didn't even let me finish my explanation.'

you roll your eyes, but can't say anything on this, because it's true; you really just lashed out without hearing him out till the end. you both stand in silence for some moments and when it becomes clear that you're not about to run to another taxi, dino leans in, kissing your forehead. 'let's go home?' he asks quietly, rubbing your back.

'please tell me that you have a good explanation,' you whisper into his neck in a shaky voice.

dino sighs, kissing your forehead again. 'i do, baby, i promise. it's not what it looked like.'

you stare into his eyes for some seconds and then nod. not letting you go, dino moves you two back to the house, holding you close to him. he takes a deep calming breath, happy that he managed to talk you out of running away.

'sorry for being...' you start and then scrunch your nose. 'like that, i guess.'

dino huffs and wraps his arms around you tighter. he'll swim not in the sea, but in ocean of patience for you. 'i wouldn't have you any other way.'

a/n: i'm sorry for not getting the request correctly (i really didn't get what you mean by that taxi part), but hopefully this is still ok! let me know <3 - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

[pupyuj]

→ “ruin our friendship.” || kim gaeul x reader fic.

— for years, gaeul has trusted your heart and tried to find whatever good you saw in your douchebag of a boyfriend, but she has had enough. and now she wants to show you that you deserve so much better...

word count: 6.9k.

dynamic: dom!kim gaeul x sub!taken!reader.

warnings: bffs-to-lovers, cheating, oral, fingering, cunnilingus, facesitting, faceriding, overstimulation, masturbation, praise kink.

requested ? : nope.

a/n: i don't even know how long this has been rotting in my drafts but SHE IS FINALLY FREE! and we have our first gaeul fic AND I HAVE OFFICIALLY WRITTEN A FIC FOR EVERY IVE MEMBER EYAYYYY 🥰💖 now i don't have to worry about possibly looking like i favor one member more than the others omg guys i can assure you i have thoughts about ive unnies all the time, the ones for yujin are just loud as FUCK. much like herself. ANYWAYS, HEHE I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS and i hope you all love it 💕

p.s. as usual this is not proofread thoroughly so apologies in advance for any mistakes! 😭💞

ever since entering college, you and your best friend gaeul have had to match your schedules perfectly in order to hang out and even talk regularly. those assignments couldn’t finish themselves after all, as much as you hoped they did. years before, you and her would have the time of your lives shopping and visiting the many different restaurants your vast city offered, but now, everything was different. and in gaeul’s most humble opinion, your busy lives as college students wasn’t the only problem. she could name a few actually! there was her part-time job at her mechanic father’s service shop where she spends most of her time sitting on a chair and listening to middle-aged men try to woo her as they wait for their car to get fixed, and there was your side gig as some small-time coordinator in a pretty popular live house in the downtown part of the city.

but gaeul can’t exactly be angry at your jobs for pulling the two of you away from each other! what she can be angry about was you were always distracted whenever you did go out together. here’s a clear picture: you would be sitting with her in a cute coffee shop after two weeks of not being able to see each other and there gaeul is, talking about the shenanigans that happens in her classes, her dad’s shop, and her life in general. then, she’d find you spacing out, or staring at your phone—just completely ignoring her. for the first few times it happened, gaeul just thought that perhaps you were just worried about your schoolwork!

it made sense after all. you were some kind of academic overachiever that always used to nag at gaeul to finish her geometry homework during your high school days. gaeul was going to be fine with it all; she even thought about things she could tell you to soothe your head but one little peek at your phone screen ruined it all. every ounce of patience in gaeul just disappeared into thin air once she saw that you were distressed because of your stupid boyfriend’s messages.

ugh. your boyfriend.

now, gaeul wasn’t one to shit on her best friend’s lovers just because, okay? ninety-three percent of the time she has a valid reason! here’s the breakdown: your boyfriend is manipulative, abusive, possessive, and ugly. one would say that maybe he wasn’t always that way, or that maybe he’s struggling with things! well, gaeul can confirm that he has always been horrible to you and that whatever the fuck he’s dealing with doesn’t give him the excuse to be such an asshole to someone that genuinely cares for him. gaeul can’t even count how many times you’ve showed up at her doorstep in tears because of him. 

she really can’t understand why you’re still dating him. it’s been about five years since the two of you got together and really, the only good thing you got from that relationship is a ride to the campus and if you’re lucky and he actually feels like being a decent boyfriend for once, some fancy clothes. clothes that he picks out for you, and he can’t even get that shit right! he doesn’t know your style, the kind of clothes you want to wear, the brands you’ve always wanted to get clothes from, and in general, you. gaeul knows people like him all too well. people that only want you to fill a very specific void in their miserable life.

gaeul can’t stand him. you deserve so much better, you can do so much better.

and gaeul is better.

just like that, an idea pops up in gaeul’s head as she sits in a booth in her favorite diner, but she didn’t have time to think about it because she looks out the window and there you were in a pretty, pink sundress with your hair arranged in a cute braid adorned with little butterfly clips. gaeul lets out a chuckle—rei, your roommate, must’ve helped you with that. gaeul also notices that you were wearing the sneakers that the two of you bought together so you could match, which warmed her heart. even more so when she remembers that she was wearing her own pair of those sneakers too!

gaeul watched patiently as you entered the diner and greeted the waitress behind the counter like you always do. a bright smile spreads across your face once you find gaeul in your usual booth, and gaeul feels herself flashing her very own grin as you start walking faster towards her.

“hey! sorry, i’m late. i had to change my entire outfit. i didn’t think it would be so warm today.” you said, pulling gaeul into a quick hug before sitting across from her. gosh, you looked beautiful! the baby hairs that stuck to your forehead and the sides of your face only made you look even cuter, gaeul almost wanted to reach out and pinch your cheeks.

“careful. look any prettier and someone might mistake you as my girlfriend.” gaeul quipped. she finds herself grinning proudly as you laugh.

“you look dashing yourself! they probably already think you’re my boyfriend, but you’re not neglecting me for ‘a night with the boys’ so we would get found out quickly.” you sighed. you were clearly disappointed, but you covered it up with another laugh before sipping on the glass of water gaeul kindly ordered for you.

“then today is a date. he probably hasn’t taken you in one for ages, anyway.” gaeul doesn’t know if you’ll actually buy it. she wasn’t even joking! as far as she knows, his version of dates is taking you on a boring ass car ride and spoiling you with useless shit. she knows what you want on dates. she knows what you want in general. let this work.

you giggled, “true. it’s a date then.” and she doesn’t miss the shy smile on your face afterwards.

well! it looks like this was going to be easier than gaeul predicted.

as the two of you ate your lunch, you talked about school and how life has been treating you both. you were thriving for the most part! you were up to date with your coursework, your job hasn’t been too demanding or taxing, and you were able to have enough breathing space in your life to actually meet up with gaeul, like right now! it seems like the only problem in your life was your boyfriend. he hasn’t been spending too much time with you, and one would think it might be because he’s gotten busier but nope, he’s as shitty as gaeul describes him to be. he only wants to hang out with his team and his stupid friends, and he barely talks to you even in text! that asshole.

gaeul didn’t let you dwell on it all though. she absolutely detests seeing you upset. especially over that useless fucker. she distracts you with a few funny shenanigans from working in her dad’s shop, and how she has actually been doing quite well in her classes! it was clearly your influence. hell, if it weren’t for you, gaeul wouldn’t even be in college at all! you gave her direction, and now you were giving her all the motivation she needs to make it through one school day at a time.

fuck, your boyfriend was so lucky. gaeul has to let you see that he wasn’t worth anything you’re giving him. she has to pull you away and make you see that a pretty girl like you needs to feel good!

in more ways than one.

“so, boyfriend, where are we going?” you joked as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of her car. while gaeul started the engine, that was when she put her little scheme in motion.

“bowling. or rather, sending the balls to the gutter for two hours straight.” she said. bowling happens to be your favorite stress reliever, it always has been! gaeul always liked watching you as you played. even when you didn’t hit any of the pins, you still had fun. gaeul was willing to bet that your pathetic boyfriend rarely ever takes you bowling.

“god you’re the best.”

“mhm, i know.”

from then on, gaeul knew it was going to be a breeze. especially when she did get on the road and you just allowed her to put her hand on your thigh. you didn’t even notice at first, occupied with fixing your charming but unruly hair. but then gaeul lightly squeezed your thigh, caressing slowly just to test the waters, and finally, you noticed her. she was afraid that your attitude would change, but it seemed like… you liked what she was doing. and so gaeul’s hand stays in place. she took note of how you squeezed your legs together every time she caresses your skin gently, or how you would sometimes put your hand on top of hers.

the drive to the bowling alley was quiet, save for the music you’ve put on, of course. silence was a rarity between the two of you since there was always something to catch up on, things to complain and whine about, people to talk shit about, and casual conversations that have become needed just to have some sense of normality in your chaotic lives. gaeul was afraid she had made you uncomfortable because come on, she was quite literally trying to take over your boyfriend’s place! joke or not, this was bound to make you just the least bit weirded out!

imagine gaeul’s surprise when she briefly glanced over to your direction and find you looking relaxed. not even the constant buzzing of your phone was able to break your focus on the road. just like that, gaeul doesn’t stop a smile from forming on her face. forget about him.

and it seems like as soon as gaeul parked her car near the bowling alley—you did! you took gaeul’s arm and started gingerly dragging her through the doors, giggling as you did so. it was easy to secure a spot for the two of you, the place wasn’t too busy yet after all.

“two hours of this? you ready to lose, kim?” you said with a mocking smile as you approached the lane. gaeul sat back on the couches behind you, smirking as she very shamelessly checked your backside out unbeknownst to you. there was a small table in the middle of the u-shaped couch that gaeul sat on where you laid down your phone. as you busied yourself making your cute little bowling profile on the monitor near the lane, gaeul glances down at your phone that kept lighting up at it vibrated. your boyfriend was calling you, and he has sent you a dozen or more messages that you still haven’t bothered to look at.

gaeul sneers at the picture of your boyfriend on the screen. he really didn’t deserve you! luckily for him, she will happily take you off his hands. gaeul takes your phone and declines the call, smiling happily when she leaned back on the couch and continued on staring at your beautiful form. you hooked a medium-sized ball with your hand and prepared yourself—sure, you were never the best at the sport but you were to have fun and have fun only! and so you delivered the ball and hit exactly seven pins. gaeul tilts her head a bit to see the look of pure joy on your face and finds herself grinning along with you.

for once, it was not at all a bad start for you! you grabbed the smaller ball and prepared to take down the last three pins at the other end of the lane. upon staring at your near flawless little pose that especially accentuated your ass, gaeul whistles. the sound catches you off-guard and you end up messing up your throw, sending the ball into the gutter in a fit of laughter.

“you little devil.” you said, playfully glaring at your best friend who has stood up and started stretching all of her limbs.

“this is where your short-lived lucky streak ends,” gaeul pats your butt as she approaches the lane. and of course, she didn’t lie. gaeul delivers a ball and hits her first (and certainly not last!) strike. she winked at you while you stared at her, mouth agape at how she didn’t even hesitate to not go easy on you. “cat got your tongue, baby?” your best friend teased.

you don’t even notice the nickname, what with your competitive spirit alive and well. “oh, it is so on, kim gaeul!”

and for the next two hours, you and gaeul had the best time of your life in that bowling alley. the longer the two of you were together and the more you got drunk from pure joy of being with each other, gaeul got bolder. she was touching your waist, your back, and sometimes even rested her hand on your ass for more than a few seconds! you didn’t care—in fact, you were just as bad! grabbing her and pulling her close to whisper things in her ear (partly because the music would have drowned your voice, mostly because you wanted gaeul nearer), allowing her to not-so-discreetly touch you in places a best friend should definitely not, and finally, sitting on her lap, playing with the collar of her shirt and telling her to take you to her home.

exactly zero innocent intent at all, and gaeul was seemingly more than happy to comply!

on the way to gaeul’s apartment, it was noticeably… warm. both of your hearts were beating fast and loud from anticipation. gaeul yearned to feel your skin without the hindrance of your clothes getting in the way. her fingertips itched to feel goosebumps run along your arm, shoulders, and back as she touched you in ways she always dreamed of doing. her lips longed to taste yours since she knew that peach-flavored chapstick you two liked to share would taste so much sweeter if you were the direct source. gaeul wanted you, and she was going to have you—boyfriend be fucking damned.

when gaeul flipped the lock on her door, the two of you were all over each other. bags and jackets thrown to some random corners, shoes messily removed and left all over the living room area. gaeul barely twisted open the doorknob of her bedroom door, being so focused on exploring every crevice of your mouth with her tongue until she tugs you inside her room. her lips stayed locked with yours as she sat on her bed and pulled you to her lap, hiking your dress up and squeezing your ass. your moans were much, much sweeter than she imagined. she shivers at the feeling of your fingers playing with the back of her neck, her own whimpers only encouraging you to busy your hands with unbuttoning her shirt.

when you’ve successfully taken her shirt off, your dress was next. and gaeul made sure to take her sweet time with that! her hands caressed your thighs, gently squeezed your hips and even moved you so you could grind on her thigh (the cute whine she earned from that was very much appreciated!), and then her hands stayed wrapped around your waist as she placed soft kisses along your collarbone. you could feel her smile against your skin when you squeezed at her arms, knowing damn well what you wanted but refusing to give it to you because… well, if this happens to be the only time she fucks you then she might as well make it last!

finally, when gaeul was satisfied with the little marks she had left on your collarbone, she started pulling the ribbon on your back and loosened up your dress. “you made sure to look pretty for me, huh?” she asked as she watched you undress yourself. she took note of the bright blush on your cheeks under her dark stare, and it made her think that perhaps she wasn’t the only one who was thinking of fucking her best friend for the longest time. meanwhile, in your defense, it’s been quite a while since you had to dress yourself up and what better occasion to do that than hanging out with your best friend?

plus, if it got you to get fucked by the friend in question then you’d say that the two-hour preparation was worth it!

when gaeul laid you down on the bed, she noticed how you suddenly became quite tense, looking as though your boyfriend was about to come breaking down gaeul’s doors to drag you back with him. gaeul made sure to relieve you by kissing your forehead, taking your hands with hers and then putting your knuckles to her lips. “you’re safe with me, (y/n).” she whispered, pecking your knuckles gently and smiling at you. sure, it works… but the fear that bubbled up in your stomach did not go away.

“if he finds out about this…” you pull your best friend close, letting her embrace you while you wrap your arms around her neck.

gaeul scoffed arrogantly, “he won’t—”

“—if he does, i don’t know what i’ll do,” you never told gaeul that your boyfriend has been watching out for her for the longest time. he was always suspicious of gaeul, saying that he was so sure that she wanted to fuck you and make you hers. because of his suspicions (that now proved to be true), he always made sure to be annoying and text you and call you an absurd amount of times whenever you were hanging out with gaeul. he never does that when you’re out with your other friends. no. that behavior was reserved for the one person he was threatened by. “i don’t want him to hurt you.” you said. you can’t even imagine what he would do to you, let alone the girl he absolutely detests.

“he’s as dumb as a brick. i could fuck you in his own bathroom and he’d have no idea.” gaeul makes a mental note to reserve that exact scenario in the future.

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, “you know he can very much send you to the hospital, right? he’s like, three heads taller than you!”

“three heads yet he’s still stupid enough to treat you horribly and practically give you away to me,” gaeul sneaks her hands behind you, unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you in one swift motion. your heart beats louder every second gaeul’s eyes travel downward, soaking in more and more of your naked beauty that she longed to set her eyes on forever. “i’ll teach him a thing or two about giving a pretty girl the pleasure she deserves.”

every doubt and fear you had evaporates into nothing as soon as gaeul puts her lips against your skin once again. sucking, biting, licking—anything she can do to leave marks and make you remember this night akin to a skilled painter perfecting their masterpiece with every stroke. you feel gaeul’s hand trail down your stomach and palm your soaked panties, and you had an almost automatic reaction to grind against her, blushing wildly upon hearing her chuckle at your enthusiasm. gaeul wraps her warm mouth around your nipple, your back arching at the feeling. an embarrassingly loud moan escapes your mouth when she flicks the hardened bud and presses her palm flat against your clit at the same time.

you were losing further control of your actions. grinding restlessly on gaeul’s hand for further pleasure, taking her free hand to play with your other breast, and even pushing her head impossibly closer to your chest. she was skilled with her tongue—you shuddered at the mere thought of what else she could do to you should this night go on for longer. you feel gaeul slide her hand inside your panties, only to feel your pussy with her fingers rather than fucking you immediately.

it was adorable how impatient you were. you needed and wanted to be pleasured. it must have been quite a while since you’ve gotten some action—gaeul isn’t surprised that even in sex your boyfriend can’t deliver. every flick of your nipple, every pinch to the other one, every parting of your pussy lips, and every brush against your clit, you were mewling. you would be embarrassed if you actually heard yourself but instead, all you could focus on was the little pleasure gaeul was giving you right now.

“that feel good, hon?” gaeul asks as she presses her lower palm against your clit harder than ever. she found your little nods endearing and your inability to find the words to answer her only inflates her ego, but as much as she would love to tease you all day long, she was just as desperate for you as you are for her.

“how long has it been since he’s made you cum?” she asked, slowly pulling your panties off and letting it drop to the floor. gaeul keeps her eyes fixed on you, looking for discomfort or doubt or any sign that tells her how you could be feeling about all of this. while gaeul knows that the two of you have already crossed a point of no return, she knows that if you gave yourself the time to think about all of this, you would come to your senses. in other words, you would get the fuck out of her house and never talk to her again. it would be disheartening, yes, but gaeul unfortunately knows you well enough to know that it would be possible.

to her surprise though, you seemed to have stopped caring now. you didn’t even bother to glance at your phone that was on the floor, vibrating wildly due to the amount of times you were being called by your boyfriend. you only silently beckoned for gaeul to touch you, to taste you, to claim you. and gaeul doesn’t need to be asked twice to oblige!

“he… he has never made me cum.” you admitted, looking away from the embarrassment.

“are you serious?” gaeul laughs, but then her jovial expression is replaced with an incredulous one. “you guys do have sex, right?”

“of course we do! just… h-he’s horrible at it… every time we’re done, i have to get myself off because he never can!” you covered your face in frustration, now just wondering how you actually survived years without being able to cum with your partner during the act.

“fuck, he really is worth nothing at all, huh?” gaeul cackles. ah, poor you… but you didn’t have to worry about not cumming tonight, because gaeul just now made a silent promise that she’ll make you cum as many times as you want. she lowers herself so she could be facing your pussy, all wet and ready just for her. just as gaeul was about to bury her face in between your legs, you take a hold of one of her hands and intertwine it with yours, making her heart swell with affection. she doesn’t look back up at you, knowing that the blush on her cheeks would be too noticeable. gaeul starts off giving your cunt gentle kisses and little licks—hearing you softly whimper and seeing you jolt every time the tip of her tongue so much as brush slightly around your clit gets her adrenaline going, and eventually, gaeul commits herself to eating you out.

within mere minutes of practically making out with your pussy, gael feels you put your free hand behind gaeul’s head and pushes her closer. “more…” you could barely say, too caught up with the euphoric feeling gaeul has instilled in you using her tongue alone. it takes everything in gaeul to let go of your hand to part your lips to have better access to your clit, and when you grabbed a fistful of her hair and let out a beautiful moan, gaeul knew she was doing something right.

something adorable gaeul notices is that you were extremely sensitive when it comes to your clit, more than any woman gaeul has ever been intimate with and even herself. she licks a stripe up your cunt, relishing in your taste and the way you whine her name, before sucking on your clit. it’s almost as if you’ve never had your pussy eaten out this good before! and truthfully, you really haven’t. gaeul’s own satisfied moans created a buzz in your head, letting you know just how much she loved and savored your taste with each lick. she brings a new kind of pleasure when she makes out with your clit at a gentle, slow pace. the kind of pleasure you would never find your boyfriend (or anyone else for that matter) to be giving you.

it almost makes you wonder what gaeul’s true intentions were. of course, you weren’t expecting her to be completely in love with you. if she was, the first thing she would do to show it was not making you cheat on your boyfriend with her. was she just looking for a quick hook-up? but if that was the case, she could have just grabbed some random girl instead of putting your friendship in an awkward spot like this. perhaps you were just another box in a list that she wants to check off, but that would be cruel and completely unlike the gaeul you have known since the two of you were young. with the way she was cautious with how she fucked you, touched you, and even handled you during all of this, you wanted to believe that she has some sort of undiscovered feelings towards you.

but why were you even thinking about that? did you even have feelings for her? that was a dangerous territory you never wanted to explore, not when you cherished your friendship too much. but the ‘idea’ of dating your own best friend was never really just an idea with you. not when gaeul had ten times the charm that makes your boyfriend look like some hopeless wimp. not when gaeul will forever be the person that knows you the best. not when every time she does something as simple as tell you you’re pretty, or open a door for you, or laugh at your jokes, or smile at you so handsomely, the tiniest of butterflies flutter around in your stomach.

it was a scary feeling, one that you always hoped to go away one day but these days, and especially today, it has been hard. maybe when this is over… you don’t have to run away from it anymore, because when you look at gaeul’s eyes that pierced right through yours even as she was eating you out, you can see something beyond the hunger, the lust, and the desperation.

whatever it was, you found yourself more willing to uncover it, even if it might ruin everything.

“you’re so perfect, (y/n)...” gaeul snaps you out of your trance and immediately after, she dips her tongue inside you. “you’re better off with someone else… someone who knows you better, inside and out… mmhn... don’t you agree, princess?”

you whine shamelessly, “y-yes..! ahh… with you…” now you didn’t even mean to let that slip past your lips, but gaeul seems beyond satisfied that you did. completely addicted to your taste, gaeul pulls you closer and further down the bed by your waist, your back arching with how well she was using her mouth. the pleasure gaeul brought was enough to make your thighs twitch, your legs slightly rise in the air, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“you cumming soon, baby…?” gaeul asks, briefly lifting her head slightly from in between your legs. a sly smirk graced her features, knowing that the cause of your incoherence was her. it gives her the confidence to do a lot more to you, to do everything she has been wanting to do for years. you seem to notice how she had paused to stare at you, and you shoved her face back down to your core, earning a chuckle from her. gaeul pushes your thigh back, almost lifting your leg up, for better access and eats you out better than before as if that was even possible.

at this point both of your hands were on her head. you would be worried about the tight grip you had on her hair but you were way too busy on that tight knot in your stomach. you think you hear gaeul encouraging you to cum, and you can vaguely feel her palm resting on your stomach and it does help you relax a bit. enough for you to have the strength to look down at your best friend, whose eyes have always been on you this entire time. god, she was pretty… and she looked like she belonged right where she was. she didn’t give you any more time to admire her though, as a flick of her tongue on your clit sends you to a blissful orgasm.

your body softly falls backwards your bed as you throw your head back with only gaeul’s name filling the air. gaeul spends a good few seconds staring at your face—her doing. you were simply bewitching in her eyes. she made sure to take her time cleaning you up while you came down from your high, waiting patiently until you’ve caught your breath and calmed down. she sees you breathing normally and smiles before rising up, attacking your face with a barrage of kisses while you laugh and take her in your arms.

“don’t get comfortable. this is all we’re doing until morning.” gaeul, more than ready to please you all day and night long, places a wet kiss on your collarbone before sliding her hand in between your legs. she was well on her way down your core until her phone blares loudly—someone was calling her. she ignores the sound, opting to kiss down your neck while her fingers start ghosting over your clit. and just then, you turned your head and got a glimpse of the caller id on the gaeul’s screen. but gaeul sees it first and she swipes her phone away with a dark chuckle.

“w-who is it…?” you asked quietly, not wanting to alert whoever was on the other end. gaeul’s smile grows wider as she puts the caller on speaker. your heart drops to your stomach as soon as you hear the other person’s voice. 

a man. your man. your fucking boyfriend!

“are you there, kim?”

sheer panic courses within you. you tried grabbing gaeul’s hand, but she moves away, pressing a single finger against your lip. and then her mouth moves, but she doesn’t make a sound. trust me, she says silently. you kept still, trusting your best friend to not do anything stupid. of course she wouldn’t put you in any danger just to have fun, but you did worry that she would set your boyfriend off enough for him to do something to her. your heart beats loudly in your chest and goosebumps appear all over your skin. you were terrified beyond comprehension, but gaeul’s soft caresses and reassuring eyes comfort you, even just a little bit.

“what do you want?” gaeul asked, annoyed that he just had to interrupt the two of you. her hand once again travels downwards your body until she reaches your cunt. she traces your lips before inserting the smallest length of her two fingers, making you bite back a moan.

“where’s (y/n)? why isn’t she answering her phone?”

gaeul grins and plunges her fingers deep inside you, she couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh as she watched you choke out a moan. you immediately covered your mouth, pitifully glaring at your best friend but not being completely mad at her. her fingers felt too good inside you—staying perfectly still just to get you to get used to the feeling until she starts moving, slow and steady as if she herself was savoring the feeling of your cunt clench around her digits.

“what was that? is that her? are you fucking my girlfriend?!”

gaeul cackles, “you wouldn’t know what (y/n) sounds like when being fucked even if you’re the one fucking her.” she increases her pace, even nodding towards you to get you to relax and just keep trusting her because she could feel your fear. it made her angry. no one should claim to be your partner if they made you feel so afraid of them. you shouldn’t have to beg for them for their time and love either. if gaeul had known that this was what everything from back then would lead up to, then she would’ve intervened when you and your boyfriend were still just acquaintances. but there was no point in dwelling on that because she has the opportunity to make this all right.

and the correct ending to all of this was her freeing you from him, him ending up all alone, and the two of you figuring out what to do with each other.

“you bitch! i swear to god if that’s (y/n)—”

“—i’m not fucking my best friend, shithead. you should start worrying more about the fact that she’s refusing to call your lacking ass back.” gaeul watches you intently as you slowly lose most of yourself to her. moving your hips accordingly, meeting her little thrusts with eagerness that only got gaeul herself drenched. you tugged on gaeul’s top, silently asking her to get off the call already and just fuck you. and that you didn’t have to ask her twice, of course. while your boyfriend kept yelling at her, gaeul ends the call before blissfully dropping her phone to the ground.

you don’t know what came over you, but all of a sudden you wanted to see your best friend under you. tugging her down harder, catching her lips with yours in a searing kiss… feeling sick satisfaction in you when she stiffened at your sudden surge of passion, and using her shock to flip your positions over. gaeul pulls her fingers out, putting them on your hips instead and trying to keep up with the way you kissed her feverishly.

“you’re cute…” gaeul whispers, thoroughly entertained by you. ugh, those eyes. that nose, her perfect moles, her smile, that mouth… fuck. you have to feel her lips on your pussy again but this time… you wanted to be in control. you smile at your best friend as you swipe your thumb across her lips before getting in position.

“holy shit, (y/n)—”

“—shut up, man.” you cut her off with your face so warm you think you might explode. she didn’t look like she was turned off by the idea. in fact, gaeul places her hands on your thighs, looking more excited than she has ever been this entire time. “t-tell me if i’m hurting you… or anything.” you said. gaeul merely nods, eyes focused on your core. you were going to say a few more words, maybe tell her that you haven’t sat on anyone’s face in a while so you might be bad at this but gaeul couldn’t wait another second. she pulls you down, and the sound that escapes your lips when her nose bumps against your clit was simply criminal.

“ffuck…! oh, g-god…!” with one hand tightly gripping the headboard and the other holding onto a random pillow, you start riding gaeul’s face. and again, she was moaning. as if a better flavor has never graced her tongue until she got to taste you. gosh, the way you threw your head back and let every lewd sound fill the air as you rode her got gaeul clenching, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of you either. she squeezed your thighs, almost as if she was encouraging you to go faster and just use her.

“mmhgn… so good… more, please..” letting go of the pillow and the headboard, you put your hands on gaeul’s head. you ride her faster, focused on pleasing yourself and chasing another orgasm while gaeul does her work with her tongue. it was getting harder and harder to hold herself back from touching her own pussy; she was too drenched and you were simply too delicious. at this rate, she might just cum untouched! the idea of it was humiliating almost, but gaeul figured that if she made you cum hard enough then you wouldn’t even realize what had happened to her. but then again… why would she go through all that trouble?

with one hand, gaeul reaches down and unzips her jeans, sliding further down and massaging her clit through her panties. of course, you don’t see this. you don’t even hear gaeul over the sound of your whimpering and moaning—all you wanted was to use her mouth to get yourself off. you managed to open your eyes slightly, however, and looked down at gaeul. her eyes were shut off, eyebrows furrowed deeply as she diligently ate out and fingered herself at the same time. 

you heart swells as you allow yourself to etch every single facial feature of hers in your mind. you didn’t think you’d find a more fitting place for your best friend. it turns out she looked good underneath you, too! when you got distracted by admiring gaeul’s face, you felt a sting on your ass. you gasped loudly, and although it caught you off guard, you liked it. you moved your hips enthusiastically as gaeul squeezed your ass, now glaring at you to intimidate you to keep going. and it works! well, it’s not like you were going to stop just like that.

“p-pretty… you belong right here…” you said, gripping her hair tighter. gaeul moans at your words and she feels herself only clenching tighter around her own fingers. she didn’t expect to get so turned on by merely fucking you and hearing you talk to her in such a different way than usual. she pushes her tongue inside your cunt, making you scream in pleasure. gaeul’s ears ring at the sound of your voice—she was sure now that you wouldn’t dare go back to that pathetic boyfriend of yours.

you were hers now. and she has always been yours.

“gaeul… babe, i’m cumming—god…!” with one last thrust on your best friend’s face, you came. moaning blissfully in the air as gaeul allowed you to ride your orgasm out, and while she laps up your cum as best as she could, she hits a satisfying climax which grants you the perfect chance to hear a cute squeak from her. gaeul removes her hand from her panties and holds you down on her face, not entirely satisfied to let you go even though she can see that you can barely keep yourself sitting. that wasn’t going to be a problem anymore though as gaeul once again flipped your positions so you would be sitting on the bed and she would still be in between your legs.

“mmh… stop, i’m tired… please.” you shake your head weakly, gently tapping gaeul’s hand. fortunately enough, your best friend respected your wishes and stopped, opting to scoop you up in her arms instead and hug you. you laughed at how much of a mess you made on your best friend’s face, wiping all of it clean with your hands before giving her a quick kiss. gaeul doesn’t forget to get rid of her pants before staying completely still in bed with you, staring at nothing but your pretty face for minutes on end.

you think you fell asleep a couple of times, and you ended up always opening your eyes to gaeul smiling dumbly at you like a lovesick puppy. if you had known gaeul allowed herself to see you in such a different light, then you wouldn’t have wasted time trying to fall in love with a boy who did nothing good for you. but no matter, you were going to leave him, and finally, you and your best friend can work towards a more fulfilling relationship for the two of you.

“i always knew it’d be you in the end.” gaeul whispers as she leaves the tiniest and sweetest kisses on your knuckles.

the tiniest bits of fear settled in the pit of your stomach—you didn’t want your boyfriend to find out about this at all. you wanted to protect gaeul and dump his ass with as much as peace as you can manage, but you know he was going to bring her up somehow. at the end of the day, the blame should be put on you since you were the one who allowed gaeul to make those advances towards you anyway… but you knew all too well that that wouldn’t stop your boyfriend from coming up with an excuse to try and confront your best friend.

but every time you dwelled on those thoughts, gaeul somehow notices it and keeps your eyes on her. she knew she would be able to pull your attention to something else and that she does rather effortlessly. and you knew that you would be safe, as long as you were with her.

you laugh at her words, “i’m glad that you didn’t fuck me just because i’m hot and you hate my boyfriend.” you joked, earning a playful slap on the shoulder.

“no, stupid,” gaeul pulls you closer by your waist, kissing your nose. “i love you.”

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Liebevoll

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship, some fluff WARNING(S): Kaiser is a cringe loser, my bad german makes a comeback (I was always on that damn phone in german class)

Since you’ve been trying to learn German (you gave some stupid excuse about how you ‘want to know what shit he talks about you when he thinks you don’t understand him’), a golden opportunity to mess with you has appeared in front of Kaiser.

Obviously being that your brainwaves aren’t completely inactive, you knew not to ask him and instead try a language app first because he’s not to be trusted.

Not possible on Kaiser’s watch, though. Nuh uh. What do you need an app for when you have a boyfriend who’s perfectly capable of lying to you for his amusement?

Your phone was dealt with (snatched and tucked in Kaiser’s back pocket, where you’d rather wretch than reach) three exercises in… So you’re still about as clueless as in the beginning. Now, Kaiser is subjecting you to his ‘tutoring’.

“When someone holds the door for you, you bow and say ‘Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren.’ It means thank you, by the way.”

“Uh, that’s too long to mean thank you.” You look at him like he’s forcing you to say tongue twisters, suspicion clear in your expression.

Kaiser finds your wariness and lack of understanding really cute, mainly because he’s a condescending asshole. He reaches out to try and move your mouth as if that’ll somehow assist you in pronouncing it, but you pry his fingers away from your face before he can reach. It makes him snicker.

After a few tries, you get through that one. Then Kaiser forces you through the ordeal of sounding out that string of bullshit multiple times ‘just to make sure you really memorized it’.

Next, Kaiser says, “When you want the tab at a restaurant, you should say, ‘Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen?’”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Why do you think you know more than me? It’s my first language.” He smiles at you in a wannabe suave manner.

Reluctantly, you repeat it back to him, more than once.

His gaslighting is almost becoming convincing with his insistence on you retaining this information as if you’re actually gaining knowledge here.

But you decide to take everything with a grain of salt, anyway, no matter how compelling Kaiser’s acting may be. You’ll try to search these up later. At least if you can manage to spell them based on what you heard.

The nonsense continues on like this:

“When a guy compliments you, you should reply with ‘Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann.’ It means thank you veeeeeeery much, by the way.”

“Does everything mean thank you according to you?!”

“Aww, that’s a really cute grumpy face you’re making.”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Kaiser stares at you expectantly, scooting closer towards you and leaning in, his face inching closer towards yours. Disturbed (not swayed or affected at all, might you add!), you decide to comply.

He wonders what other stupid shit he should make you say. Even for a joyless and miserable person like Kaiser, it’s kinda difficult to stifle his laughter. Of course, someone as delusional as him would find entertainment in his own antics, but he’s doing a good job on not letting it show.

“After paying at the supermarket, you tell the cashier ‘Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum’ and walk off immediately. It’s a social norm.”

What a shameless liar. You’re curious about what he’s making you say though, since he’s still not reacting when you repeat it back to him during this whole farce. The mischievous rat’s game is on point.

You continue to go along with it, though, since your intrigue is also making you want to learn them all so you can actually look them up after all this. In fact, you drop asking him about it regardless, pretending as if you let down your guard and believe him now.

This leads Kaiser to being more comfortable, testing the waters in a different direction, assuming you won’t think anything of it.

“You should greet me in German every time you see me as practice,” he says. “With something like ‘Du bist sehr schön.’”

Kaiser thinks he’ll think it funny because you rarely compliment him, but he finds himself liking it a little once you repeat it to him. Then he makes you say it again and again, aiming less to deceive you into thinking he’s dedicated to your linguistic education and more so for his satisfaction.

But Kaiser ignores this strange happiness. He tricked you into saying it, so it’s whatever. Doesn’t mean anything. In fact, he’d be a stupid microbe to dwell on it.

Once he strays down that part, though, it keeps escalating.

“Mit dir ist alles besser." - That’s probably the opposite of how you feel, so Kaiser finds some kind of humor in it conceptually. Then hearing is too much to his liking again.

“In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen." - You’d never think something like that, god forbid you utter it out loud… What’s wrong with him? It’s supposed to be comedic. He’s pranking you! Punking you. You’re a gullible idiot!!! He like, got you so good or whatever.

"Du machst mich glücklich.”

When you parrot that one back to him with more ease, since it’s more on the simple side, Kaiser stares into your eyes with a kind of seriousness you find disconcerting. You expect him to demand you say it again so he can be sure you remember it, though the frequency of this request died down more and more with each phrase you spoke.

The silence stretches. You continue to gaze at each other with an almost bizarre confusion between you two.

Is he making you say things he yearns to hear deep down? Or is he finding an excuse to tell you things he’s reluctant to admit? Both options are pathetic and beneath him. And he also really can’t tell which one it is, either.

“Can you say it again?” asks Kaiser, more tender in tone.

“Du machst mich glücklich?”

You’re not a very affectionate couple. It’s to your surprise that Kaiser wraps his arms around you with tentativeness, like he’s skirting around something, then presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. Despite your puzzlement, you return the embrace, pulling him closer.

Now you’ve got to find out what it was to warrant all that from him for sure. Guess you’ll be utilizing speech to text later…

Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren = I hope you get ran over by a car Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen? = Can you take a shit on my plate? Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann = Say that again so I can disembowel you Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum = There’s a dead body in the break room Du bist sehr schön = You’re very beautiful Mit dir ist alles besser = Everything’s better with you In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen = I feel safe in your arms Du machst mich glücklich = You make me happy I was writing a WIP with a premise I've never done before, but it got difficult to write whihc annoyed me, so I wrote this which is something that ive quite literally done before instead #StayStagnant

[honeipie]

HOCKEY BOYS

part 1; katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: you catch the eye of japan’s best defenseman

authors note: hockey really isn’t big in japan, but it’s big in my heart so anyways-

part two

katsuki bakugo, the falcon, or at least that’s the name that’s been created for him.

he was known for two things. his love of fighting, and his speed. it could be a split second that someone does or says something to piss him off. next thing they know, they’re on the ground giving the ever living shit beat out of them.

the penalty box was this man’s second home. so it wasn’t surprising that’s where the tickets were most freaking expensive. as soon as he hopped in there fans would scream and cry his name, vying for his attention. he never turned around for them though.

he never batted an eyelash at anyone the wrong way if it wasn’t on the rink. the only people he needed to worry about was his teammates, and if the game was over, he’d focus on himself.

so it came as a surprise to everyone when he started going back and forth with one of the sports reporters at one of the press conferences after a game.

“mr. bakugo i was simply asking a question-“

“well i don’t like your question so ask another one”

your eyes squinted slightly as his behavior. you expected him to be stubborn, but this had to be a new level of it “i don’t understand why my first question wasn’t enough for you?”

“because it’s boring. if you really want me to engage find something better than that. you look like you’re good at your job, so be good at your job”

katsuki wasn’t the kind of guy to date or have flings, but he would still find women attractive, and damn did he find you attractive. makeup all perfectly done and not a hair out of place. not to mention the white pantsuit you had on. it made you stand out among the rest, but the question you asked made you blend right back in. he knew there was more to you then the stupid introductory shit. katsuki knew you had some fire in you, and he was just here to fan the flames.

murmurs started to ripple throughout the room like water. his crimson eyes stayed glued onto yours with every word spoken. you could see through his persona. the quirk up of his lips, the casual lean back from the mic. he wanted you to back down, and not even that. he expected you to.

clearing your throat you nodded “you’re right mr. bakugo, i apologize. i should’ve just been straight up about my original intentions”

“spit it out-“

“since you have joined the team the only thing that i can think of when i think of you is fighting. that’s it. no special moves, no improvement of your work, just fighting. now everybody knows that you’re fast, but you don’t apply your abilities to the right things, now why is that mr. bakugo?”

his face completely changed into something more still. other reporters from the pit started slowly agreeing with you and pointed their cameras back up to him for a response. even from your seat you could see pink creep up from his neck up to the tips of his ears. he was pissed.

and before he could open his big mouth to tarnish his reputation, his manager came into view.

“i think that’s enough questions for now. thank you for attending everyone” with a quick bow, they made their way of the platform. reporters attempted to get up to swarm katsuki with more questions, but the bodyguards stepped in the way of their path. you didn’t bother following the crowd as you packed up your things to leave. you had already had your fill of the man for the next three lifetimes.

if only you knew.

you sat right across from your boss hands held together on your lap. he had called you in here for an impromptu meeting a week after the press conference, and you couldn’t put a finger on it as to why.

he leaned back in his chair gazing at his computer monitor for what felt like forever. right when you were about to open your mouth he sat back up again turning the monitor towards you.

“what is this?” he asked as you analyzed the screen. it was a paused frame of you at the press conference, and you could tell the exact moment as well with katsuki’s facial expression directly in the frame. unnerve filled in your stomach, but you decided it was best if you kept your composure. after taking a deep breath you looked back at him.

“that’s me at the conference. i was asking mr. bakugo a question”

he nodded his head in understanding turning the monitor back in his direction “a question. a question that made his damn manager have to stop the whole press conference just to make sure this man didn’t ruin his career”

the feeling spread from your stomach down through your legs making them bounce at a mile a minute “i know it might look bad-“

“look bad? kid, this is amazing”

the shaking in your leg came to a halt when you heard his praise.

“i- thank you sir”

he took his phone off of the desk swiftly unlocking it “you were able to get under his skin. something i haven’t seen from someone who isn’t off the ice. people are going crazy over this interaction so we’re gonna milk it for all it worth, you got that?”

a soft ping came from your phone and you went to check it.

“that’s the bar that they usually go to after some games. you need a pass to get in and i just sent you yours”

your eyebrows scrunched together looking at it “isn’t it risky to go to a bar during the season? isn’t paparazzi all over that kind of stuff?”

he shrugged going to place his phone back onto the desk “once you see it you’ll understand. the address is right under your pass. go there tonight and try and see if you can get any sort of in with the team. they don’t usually allow locker room interviews so if we strike now this could be a goldmine”

with a sigh, you looked back up at your boss “i’m not sure about this. using my own personal time to go be a double agent. i mean it’s-“

another ping rang from your phone, this time from your bank app. you had noticed a generous amount of money had been added along with the words ‘bonus’ next to them.

“that’s what happens when you impress me”

suddenly, you felt a smile creep up to your face.

“i’ll try and get there tonight sir”

you knew what time their latest game would be ending and decided to head to the bar a little after then. the address that your boss had given you led you to what looked like some sketchy dealing ground. after scoping out the area (and saying a quick prayer) you made your way down the stairs. a man you hadn’t seen before stepped out from next to the door.

“what’re you here for?” he asked, his voice monotone. blinking away the confusion you pulled out your phone silently showing him the pass. he gave it a nice once over before opening the door for you “have fun ma’am”

stepping inside, you noticed how the outside had been very misleading. it didn’t smell like a usual bar. no alcohol intensely filling your senses to the point where you felt drunk from merely standing there. it smelt like a nice cedar wood cologne had been sprayed through the air. that or it was coming from the multiple men scattered around the club who looked like they could buy at least one yacht.

it didn't seem to look like a bar either, at least not the ones you remember from your college days. the bar was illuminated by a golden hue from lamps distending from the ceiling. you walked up to the bar placing one of your hands on the stools. they were pure leather. and the sigh you almost let out when you sat on one of them was embarrassing.

"when i get that raise these are the first things i'm buying" you mumbled to yourself before getting back on track. as subtly as you could you looked around trying to find the team of interest. though what you didn't know is that they already had their eyes set on you.

eijiro and izuku had been whispering back and forth to each other for a good minute. the rest of the team were too deep into their own conversations to notice, but katsuki did. he tried to lean over a bit to hear what they were saying, but they both knew him better than that. they quickly stopped talking and peered over at him.

"hey kacchan, could you get us a drink from the bar?"

"do your feet not work?"

"they do. i'm just actually having a conversation and you don't look like you're too busy"

he huffed in annoyance rising to his feet. without a look back he headed over to the bar.

"two shirley temples!-"

"you'll get what you get!"

eijiro and izuku watched as he walked almost right next to you were sitting.

"how much you wanna bet they fight?"

"oh they're gonna fight. i wanna see if they fu-"

"what the hell are you doing here?"

you had heard his voice before you saw him, but when you did see him, he had situated himself next to you. his hair was still a bit messed up. most likely from having his helmet on at the game. it didn't look bad on him though. in fact, it fit right in with his casual attire. he had on jeans, and a plain black hoodie. something that would be rather casual for a place like this, but you had to remember that this was a casual place for someone like him.

"you might not know anything about this, but i was invited. the thing that happens when you're nice to people and they actually want you to be there?"

"i know what a fuckin' invitation is. you think i'm that damn dense?" he scoffed at your words shaking his head "what i really wanna know is who would want you around for more than five minutes?"

you turned your body to now face him. he was close enough that you could catch a whiff of his cologne. it was sharper than what the majority of the bar, like a spice blend. it filled your senses but didn't let it distract you from the conversation.

"excuse me? i have lots of people who enjoy my company. plus from your reputation i wouldn't think many people would want to hang around you"

he let out a chuckle "you gonna believe everything they say in those tabloids? thought someone who worked in that shitty industry would know better than that"

"okay first of all i do not work in tabloids, i am a reporter. second off, i never said i believed them. i'm just making an assumption from the interactions we've had"

"you call you flaming me in front of a bunch of people an interaction?"

you couldn't help but smile when he said that "so i got under your skin?"

this made him raise an eyebrow "shut up" he finally flagged the bartender over to order the two drinks.

"didn't take you as a shirley temple kind of guy"

"i'm not. it's for those two idiots" he motioned back towards the two men who quickly looked away when you turned your head.

"they seem awfully invested" you lips turned into a playful look of sympathy "do you not feel comfortable ordering drinks by yourself?"

he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth "you are really fuckin' annoying you know that"

laughter rang out from you at his words, the sound making his stomach do a small flip that he wanted to ignore. there was something about the way you carried yourself. about the way you weren't afraid to tease him, say whatever the hell was on your mind. it was captivating.

"not the first time i've heard that, but it helps with the job. you've got to be able to know what buttons to push. what really gets to a person"

he let out a soft grunt, eyes going from yours down to your lips. his gaze made you want to shrink into the plush leather seat. it never failed to be intense.

"i bet.. if you gave me an hour i could figure out what really gets to you"

the forwardness wasn't expected. especially not from him. you swallowed what felt like a lump in your throat. this would be a good opportunity to convince him to do an interview.

.. yeah, an interview.

[three-semicolons]

Looking at the Dick Grayson Crashout of All Time™️

Finished the rest of Batman: War Games to get y’all the Dick Grayson Crashout panels. I would like to state, however, that the crashout was the only part of this three-parter that I truly enjoyed. War Games was otherwise iffy. Not a huge fan of how much of an asshole everyone is — particularly Bruce — throughout. That’s not the point though.

For context, Batman: War Games takes place right around issues 90-100ish of Nightwing. Blockbuster is dead, but only has been for a week or two. Everything surrounding that plot line has also occurred.

Anyways, the first two panels with Nightwing unironically start with him seeing Batman and immediately going into guilt mode. As I stated in a previous post, this man is so thoroughly fucked that the Bat-guy with the emotional intelligence of a sponge during the midst of a gang war still asks if he’s okay.

The next time we see him, it’s been a while and he’s traveling in the car with Bruce to resolve some issue. Again, keep in mind that this is the VERY NEXT TIME we see Dick. Every time he is shown to look at Batman, he is consumed by his guilt. He cannot look at Bruce.

But, okay, fine.

It doesn’t really get bad until the next time Dick’s on-screen, where he regroups with Tim to fight off some other gang members.

He gets into his first major fight of the comic, and flips the fuck out immediately under the assumption that Tim is dead. This is probably lingering trauma from the explosions of Haley’s Circus and his apartment — both of which only happened weeks ago and both of which killed numerous people.

Dick is now unable to even be exposed to the fire and flames without losing his shit. Which would be understandable for a civilian, but Dick has been in similar situations for over a decade at this point. His poise built from over half a lifetime of crime-fighting is just gone.

And Tim is like “what the fuck is up with you man??”

This is legitimately heartbreaking. Dick cannot stop crying at fucking everything. Tim came to seek emotional support from his big bro and has to switch on a dime to become the comfort guy because Dick is just not there. And the last panel? Where Dick whispers that Bruce will forgive Tim, but it’s fucking clear that he’s trying to convince himself??? Christ man.

In this final bit, where he’s reflecting on his tenure as a vigilante… it’s so sad.

I cannot think of the last time I’ve read a comic book character express “I hate myself” so explicitly. Not that it hasn’t happened, but like… Nightwing really wants to die. I have never seen the word “drowning” so perfectly represent the state of a person before.

I think the worst part is that there’s no resolution, because he gets shot by the GCPD after and is gone for the remainder of the comic.

When I said Blockbuster and Tarantula ruined this man, I mean they ruined this man. I wasn’t expecting this at all when I started this series, and now I’m stunned more members of the community haven’t picked up on it.

Anyways, enjoy the angst. I’m gonna wrap up my N52 volume and get started on Forever Evil so I can read the Grayson run (and maybe collect some screenshots of the bomb scene to see the canon events if anyone wants them).

[madabapf]

Hell, I know what I sign up when I vote "yes" and I freaking LOVE it!!! Love the pain💕

Part of me want to slap Macaque and make him sit and actually LISTEN to Wukong's explainition for ONCE. Okay I understand him okay. Spending night with someone you still love and STILL hopping to be love by them is hurt. I get it. It's heart breaking to think it's a mistake. To have a hope and to feel it being crush in front you. The wish to run away from problem and never face it again and just forget. Forget the pain.

But fuck having six ears mean nothing if you dont listen 😭. No one listening to my boy, Wukong 🥲 always being told wrong and shutted down.

I dont blame Wukong for saying that is mistake. Because it is. They both drunk and not actually in right mind. They both dont actually have consent. Wukong being scare is understand. He scare that he the one create the damage even more of the relationship he have. They didnt suppose to do that. They not even together. What even are they? Friend? Maybe.. even that it's not clear. It's wrong for them to do it. Wukong the same tho he want to run, he's panic. To leave and pretend everything just a hunting dream and that he didnt do mistake and ruin staff they have now.

Both monkey have communication problem with one not knowing how to explain staff through word and one is scare to listen.

Anyway love the comic and the story!! Your art is amazing 💕

"having six ears means nothing if you don't listen" 😭 lmao i love that-

the thing with macaque is, he is an extremely insecure person.(at least how i like to write him) he won't admit it of course, but if he feels something bad is gonna happen to him, even the slightest confirmation will make him spiral, and then there's nothing that can stop it. because for him everything said after that will either drive his point further, or is only to "deescalate the situation" and not sincere.

wukong is semi aware of that which is why he wanted to find an excuse to buy time so he could carefully think about the words he was gonna use.. but putting on full glamour while obviously lying to get out of a situation was not exactly the best way to start this-

sorry for rambling i just love writing for these idiots, they're so perfectly imperfect

you pretty much hit the nail on the head with your observation

at the end of the day, they're both not ready to confront all these feelings, they're still scared to hurt the other and get hurt themselves and they need a loooooot of practice when it comes to communication-

i'm really glad you enjoyed it! :D thank you so much!!

[jezuschristsuperstar]

This is going to be my last post about it. And I’m going to hold your hands when I say this- squeeze them lovingly and all: Sydcarmy is never going to happen. Almost everything that they have said about this show off screen has been true (groundhog day, these two contemplating breaking cycles, Carmy not quite getting back with Claire- even though their ending implies that they will very soon) so they were right about there being nothing between these two lol. We weren’t duped or swindled: we actively refused to listen. And perhaps it was because of the chemistry between the two main characters. But if you were here before season 2, Ayo was relentlessly mean about the idea of the ship- and then over time that became her actively making fun of it by saying shit like they’re getting married. To her now in show saying that interpreting their dynamic as romance is childish. Even Jeremy himself has constantly said that there is no romantic implications between their characters, and he spoils EVERYTHING. All that… all what we were witnessing, was just the intensity of their chemistry- and that speaks volumes. It’s a shame we will never see it go any further.

And anyways… seeing the BULLSHIT that Sydney went through this season. Her finally realising that she wants to do this with him in spite of it all, just to be left high and dry???? And yes, Carmy leaving is the best thing for him to do and everything was already pointing in this direction, the funeral set up an exit (whether for the entire restaurant or him) perfectly. But if you also actually care for Syd as a character, you’d understand that what he did to her was fucked and near evil (over exaggeration but it still wasn’t good). Yes the gesture is loving- it shows that he respects her, trusts her, and loves her enough to pass on something so sentimental and special to her. HOWEVER, this is like your elder sibling banging up a toy he was supposed to pass down to you and giving it to you with a leg missing, and eye missing, and it’s fingers all chewed up. The restaurant is well run down, they still don’t have the money for it- he is aware of her fear of failure and insecurity that stems from her business failing and plunging her into financial ruin. He knows how fucked her credit is, but proceeds to do it anyway. And it’s because of that that she can’t even be happy about it. Now she can’t even trust him to help them into the clear because he has never really been there for her WHEN IT COUNTS. Why would she trust him to be there for her now? And seeing all this, beyond all their cuteness. The literal crux of their relationship- why would I want Sydcarmy to happen? It would ruin her, because Carmy is not yet in that place to be what she needs. Carmy is not yet HER peace, even if he is her family. Ayo was right when she jokingly said Sydcarmy can happen perhaps in like the fifth or sixth season/ in a world where they are both therapised and both working towards improving their mental health, but it’s television- who would really want to see all that happen only for them to get to that point? The show (although it has now seemed to also forget this fact- seriously? Deducing Tina’s arc to a fucking pasta dish, Storer I will BEAT YOU. There is no reason for good story to solely come from a special episode) is about other people too.

I do feel like there will be a fifth season- because that didn’t feel like an open ending. Or at least is wasn’t on par with the one that we saw in the first season (when the writing was good and the direction was good and the story was compelling and yada yada yadaaaaa). But if it does happen, I really don’t expect for there to be romantic sydcarmy. Just platonic and messy sydcarmy, which is a sexy dynamic within itself. And if I do end up being wrong about this, I still do feel they will pull a ‘clairecarmy’ in the sense that their relationship will be open for interpretation/ there is a heavy implication that they will go there with their relationship off screen.

It’s unfortunate but what can we do at this point. Still engage in fanon, keep on enjoying the fics- however, if you are still in the line for canon sydcarmy, I beg of you… please please step out in the name of your sanity. Because it’s like repeatedly touching a hot stove even when you are told not to lol. IT IS AN ACT OF SELF HARM. And crashing out over this next year after two consecutive years of BULLSHIT will only make you look stupid.