#wanna chew on her so badly...

[cosmobrain00]

POCKET SIZED‼️‼️

[moe-broey]

Hhhhgh. Okay I think. Maybe. Possibly. It is possible. That I'm havigg a bit of artistic burnout. BUT I'M SO CLOSE..... to having two impulse comics done (in a v half ass way). I just need to do. The barest minimum of clean up/detail work. JUST ENOUGH detail to get the point across. Nothing more. But also I think if I look at my sketchbook pencil in hand one more time my hand is gonna explode into bloody viscera and my brain will bluescreen and my eyes roll into yhe back of my head and I'm. Really sad about it 😔

[fckmebarnes]

two bad bitches at the same damn time

dbf!bucky barnes x reader x dbf!steve rogers

18+ men and minors dni. age gap (reader is in late 20’s) threesome! erm. oral (bucky) while steve hits it from the back. then. p in v with bucky. p in a with steve. (this is for the ass play freaks /lh) erm. creampie honeslty. lowkey breeding kink if you think about it. if i missed any let me know.

this is was an older works so if you think huh, i’ve seen this before — you most likely have.

like just imagine how the both of them want you so fucking badly, but you ignore all their advances because you don’t wanna commit. you wanna be able to live your life freely, but you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted to fuck both of them.

you’ve been working for bucky and steve for the last year, your dad giving you the job opportunity to work for his best friend, bucky, who happened to have a hotter best friend, steve. you knew the second your hand met steve and bucky’s you were fucked.

you had constant wet dreams of one of them, sometimes both. there wasn’t a night where you were fisting your fingers in your wet cunt moaning the name of either one of them, wishing they were filling you up instead of your fingers. you knew their cocks could reach places your plastic dildo couldn’t.

then one glorious day, you brought up (causally) to bucky, “what if we all just fucked? i want you two as bad as you want me.” while chewing on the tip of your pencil in thought while you looked down at your paperwork for work.

bucky nearly choked on his coffee as he heard you say that, being in such a public place looking over audits for work, and saying such nasty things made his cock hard and his pants grow tight

that’s how y’all ended up here, your mouth being fucked by bucky’s thick cock, gagging you with the tip of his dick, drool smeared over your mouth and cheeks with tears running down your face and running your makeup. “just like that doll, suck my cock like the filthy little whore you are.” grunting as he thrusts his cock into your warm and wet mouth while watching steve

and fuck, steve nearly came as he saw you gag on bucky’s cock as he shoved it further down your throat, watching him wrap his hand around your throat and feeling the tip of his cock protrude your skin

“shit bucky.. her mouth looks almost as good as her sweet cunt feels..” his groans were probably heard all through the entire apartment building as you clamped down on his long cock, the tip brushing the sweet spot your fingers couldn’t reach. your hands were bound above your head with bucky’s silk tie he had worn earlier that day at work, and your legs were tied to the bed frame with his & steve’s belts making sure you wouldn’t move

“imagine what your dad would think, petal. two cocks filling your holes and you’re moaning like a slut.” you felt steve drag his cock out of your pussy, inch by inch pushing back in as his large hand slapped your breast, his finger then pinching your pebbled nipple, pulling on it and rolling it between his fingers. the moans from the two grown men above you made you moan back, your pussy growing wetter and wetter as you felt bucky’s cock twitch in your mouth and you knew he was close.

he gripped the back of your head, tugging on your hair as his hips thrusted into your mouth and he threw his head back, an animalistic groan leaving his mouth as you felt his his cum shoot down your throat.

“shit baby, swallow it, take all of it baby.” you moaned around his cock, hearing steve whine below you as his fingers gripped your hips tightly, being sure to leave marks in the morning. as bucky emptied his first load in your mouth, you felt steve pull out, smacking your cunt.

“you’re going to take both of us, got it pretty girl?” you could only whine in response, the ache in your cunt growing more at the thought of both your holes being filled up. the no response wasn’t good enough for either of them, as you felt bucky’s fingers grip the sides of your cheeks making you look at him and forcing your mouth open. his eyes grew dark as he spit in your mouth, eyes telling you to swallow and you obeyed, swallowing his spit.

“you got that, bunny?” his fingers gripped your cheeks harder, his metal hand stroking his cock slowly in the silence. the sound your spit spreading out on his cock make you whine as you nodded.

“yes, sarge.” a smirk grew on his face as he hummed in approval going to untie your hands as steve unhooked your legs from the posts. they threw the tie and belts onto the floor, and bucky came around the bed, sinking a knee on the mattress and rolling on his back legs spread and cock throbbing. he reached his hands out for you to take and you did, facing him and sitting just above his cock, as it hit your as as you leaned forward.

you felt the bed shift as steve came up behind you and in between bucky’s legs, pushing you down a little bit as he jerked his cock. bucky’s right hand went to your pussy running his fingers through your folds and he moaned as he felt how wet you were.

“so fucking wet, practically gushing for two cocks, aren’t you?” you could only whine as you pushed your ass down on bucky’s cock, bottoming out on him ever so slowly before you could feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix from just sitting there.

“fuck petal, so fucking good. get in here stevie.” bucky groaned as he pulled you to his chest, your face in the crook of his neck and his arms tightly wrapped around your hips.

you heard steve spit into his hand before jerking his cock, giving your ass a few smacks with his cock before teasing the rim of your ass. you moaned softly as he spit onto your ass, before slowly pushing the tip of his cock in, throwing his head back as he felt you, his hands groping the flesh on your ass.

“feels so good bucky, you’re so fucking tight baby.” you moaned against bucky’s neck, digging your nails into the sheets as you felt steve bottoming out. he hand his hands over your ass, down your thighs and back up before the two of them started moving at the same time.

the obscene moans from all three of you were beyond pornographic, you were convinced someone was going to call the cops on you for a noise complaint. but you didn’t care, in fact, you remembered one of your windows were open to let in the cool air from the fall weather, and that only turned you on more knowing people could hear you getting fucked in the ass and cunt.

“shit doll, this pretty cunt feels so fucking good. can feel you squeezing me..” buckys hands fell to your waist, holding you in place while he rutted into you, moaning as he felt how full you were with not one, but two thick cocks. you felt your head spin with the fullness, the sound of skin smacking on skin in both holes turned you on, your fingers digging into buckys skin.

“gonna fill your ass up baby.. you’re going to have so much fucking cum oozing out of you.. little slut.” steve groaned under his breath as he picked up his pace, smacking your ass with each thrust.

both super soldiers were fucking your sweet holes at the same rapid pace, and you felt the knot in your stomach snap, cum gushing out of your cunt and all over bucky’s cock.

“did you just cum, sweet girl? can feel you dripping down to my balls.. fuck doll.” he turned to bite and nip at your neck, leaving love bites as he pulled you flush with his chest, pounding up into you.

you felt steve’s cock twitch, and with a few grunts and groans, you felt his cum fill your ass up, spilling out and down your pussy and only bucky. a moan left bucky’s lips against your skin as he felt the cum mix together, which sparked his own orgasm.

“that’s right, fill her sweet pussy up buck.” steve pulled out and pushed his cum back in as you heard bucky moan in your ear, and you felt his cock twitch in your pussy before he came, hot seed filling you up and spilled out.

you could only emit whines and moans in between the two men, wanting more but being so tired. your body said otherwise though, as you heard bucky chuckle when you clamped down on his cock after he came.

“want some more, doll? you insatiable little whore. stevie, come get some of this sweet cunt.”

[alchemistc]

As usual my idle thoughts have turned into another fic.

Saturday

"What are you doing Saturday?" he asks, even though Evan has been not-quite-yelling at him while Tommy tries to fly a fucking helicopter. He's been going for almost four minutes straight. Tommy's pretty certain he's listing off the things he never told Tommy he was pissed off about in reverse sequential order from "Thanks, it was fun." back. He's barely past "Basketball tickets, Tommy? Basketball? In six months, I played basketball badly with you once and then spent every Lakers game we watched elbow deep in a subreddit about moths or something!"

Evan pauses. Blinks at the question. It's the first moment Tommy's been able to hear the rotors working in at least nine and a half minutes, back before he started to argue back.

"I'm free," he says, and Tommy thinks of the first time he'd ever asked, nerves propelling him out the door with finger guns, the tapping foot all the way down the elevator while he ran the words back and forth in his head over and over again, the way he kept randomly smiling the entire drive home to grab his work bag. So you're free, he'd asked, and he hadn't understood the significance of Evan's response until days later, until he'd done his first of many runners, how I am free, meant so much more than available for dinner and a movie on Saturday at 8.

Tommy nods. Chances a look at Evan to see him glaring at Tommy while he sucks in his lips to try to hide the way the corners of his lips are upturned. "Pick you up at 8," he says, and thinks of bullet point number... thirteen in Evan's rant where he implied Tommy never actually told him how he was feeling at any point in time during the entirety of their relationship. Maybe he can explain how excruciatingly vulnerable he felt he was being with making it so fucking obvious he'd chewed over the conversation they'd had after their first kiss so long and so obsessively that he'd memorized it.

"Great," Evan says

"Fine," Tommy replies.

"Awesome."

"Copacetic."

This earns him an eye roll and a glance he'd call fond if it weren't for the anger still stirring behind Evans eyes.

He only thinks to regret the question days later when Saturday is taken up by a funeral procession.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, with Evan plastered to his side, working himself up to a snore.

He pats at some of the loose curls he's been obsessively rolling through his fingers, entranced by the way the moonlight bounces off of them, entranced by the wet heat of Evan's breath against his skin.

"More of exactly this," Evan says, and Tommy snorts.

"If I fiddle with your hair any more it might start falling out."

He's a loose-limbed weight against Tommy's side, and Tommy would like to roll himself into the space between his muscle and skin and just nestle there for the rest of time. "Y'like my hair to-," he swallows a yawn, "too much for that."

That's true, at least. He had a point in asking, but he's struggling to remember what it was.

"Waz haturday?" he gets, in a mumble around another yawn.

Tommy twirls another lock of hair between his fingers. "There's a new exhibit at the Getty. Thought you might wanna go."

"Museum, and this," Evan manages into Tommy's ribcage.

"It's a date," Tommy murmurs, and waits for the telltale snuffle of Evan passing the fuck out.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, tongue between his teeth as he backs his way towards the chopper. He has to yell, even though Evan is five feet away, and Evan grins back, eyeing Tommy's hair being kicked around by the vortex of the blades.

"Handbook!" Hen chirps over the noise, her shorthand for stop flirting in my general vicinity I'll kill you both.

Evan shoots her a challenging grin. Glances around long enough to notice a few eavesdropping firefighters from other stations lingering near enough to hear. Sighs, and mouths a silent "You" that's visible from space. Tommy's gonna get so much shit from Harbor when this makes it's rounds, but Evan was extra hot today and Tommy's pretty sure his brain chemistry has been irrevocably altered by getting to sleep in his bed multiple nights a week.

"Pick me up at 8," Tommy yells over the noise, and, mortifyingly, throws the fingers guns back into play a moment before he turns to leave. Why had Evan ever thought he was cool?

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Evans asks, while Tommy balances his phone on a bin of protein powder before going back to digging in his junk drawer. "Also do you own a bandsaw."

Tommy glances up from the drawer. Takes in the sight of Evan, lounging on his pillows, looking indecent while he plays at innocence. Tommy wishes he was there, but he has way too much shit to do tomorrow to justify the drive, tonight.

"What the hell do you need a bandsaw for?"

Evan blinks. "You can find out Saturday if you bring it over."

"Evan, if you've been watching DIY videos to fall asleep again..."

"I get plenty of sleep, Tommy!"

Tommy begs to differ. If he's not around to point out Evan meant to be asleep an hour earlier, he's positive Evan loses at least three hours to YouTube and Twitter most nights.

Tommy sighs. "It's heavy as hell, Evan, and I'd have to jerry rig a pulley system to get it past the Impala while the engine's still out. Is this something we can do here?"

Evan contemplates. Nods.

"I'm assuming you need the truck, too."

"I can fit everything in the Jeep."

Tommy shoots him a look that does nothing to quell the shit-eating grin coming through the phone right now.

He bites back this particular sigh. "I'll pick you up."

"At 8."

Tommy shoots him a raised brow. Apparently Evan wants to piss off the neighbors.

"AM."

"Evan."

"I'll stop by that donut place early and get you that horrible pink drink you like."

Tommy's said 'no' to this man less times than he has drill sergeants. "You realize you're signing yourself up for the grumpiest boyfriend of all time?"

"I love grumpy Tommy," Evan says, and sounds like he means it.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Maddie asks, and Evan's gaze gets a little foggy for a moment.

His sister raises a brow at Tommy.

"Just a little inside joke," Tommy assures her, and can't hide his grin when Evan squeezes his knee under the table.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and listens to Sal try to make excuses for a full minute and a half.

"...why do you ask," Sal finally asks after he runs dry.

"I'm moving. Thought I might bribe you with pizza and beer for some muscle."

Sal is quiet for longer than Tommy thinks he's ever managed. He ruins it by whistling his disbelief for at least fifteen seconds.

"Well, if it's that serious, Buckley better fucking be there so I can finally meet the kid who made you fucking crazy." He pauses. "Crazier," he amends. "What the fuck are you gonna do with the lift?"

"So I'll see you at my place at ten?"

"You're not freaking out. Why are you not freaking out?"

Tommy has a list of those reasons tucked behind a book Evan deemed 'the most boring thing I've ever let my eyes see' because he's still a little self conscious about the half-assed attempt at journaling he's been doing. He doesn't think Sal deserves a single one of those reasons.

"Bring extra packing tape," he shoots back, and hangs up before Sal can respond.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Eddie asks, and Tommy, irrationally, sort of wants to shoot him with lasers. Karen would probably let him borrow some.

He's not actually sure what Karen does in that lab of hers, but there has to be lasers, right?

Evan glances up from his perusal of the back of his beer label. "Um?" He darts his gaze to Tommy.

They haven't told anyone, and Tommy is pretending to be normal and chill and cool about that. He can keep a secret for another few days.

"If this is a sex thing you can keep it to yourself. I don't need another refresher on Tommy and Buck's sex life."

Tommy flickers between smug pleasure and exasperated annoyance. He settles somewhere in the middle, and spends the thirty seconds of eye contact and communicative facial expressions between Evan and Eddie thinking about what the weekend has in store for him.

"I mean, there's gonna be sex, but that's not, like, the point of the weekend."

Tommy raises a brow. "I never promised sex."

"It's a prerequisite for the other parts of the weekend."

"Oh look, I need a refill," Eddie says, already standing, holding up his mostly full bottle.

Evan kicks him under the table the moment Eddie's out of hearing range. "Stop freaking out. He's not the one who's getting a ring at the end of this trip."

Planning out their proposals together hadn't been something he ever thought he'd do, but once Evan had thrown it out there he'd gotten so lost in the sauce he'd forgoten it was weird. It's taken months to line this up and schedule it. They've talked it through so many times Tommy's pretty sure he could recite their itinerary from memory.

He's never gonna live down admitting he saw Eddie as competition. If it's not in Evan's proposal it might be in his vows.

"You didn't think I'd ditch you in a romantic cabin in the woods with a Jacuzzi tub that fits us both just because Eddie wanted to do something on Saturday, did you?"

No. But also yes. It's just his caveman brain shouting from behind the door Tommy locked it in when he finally understood exactly what he meant to Evan.

He's working on it.

"Just didn't want to spoil the surprise," he intones, and Evan narrows his eyes.

"Tommy."

Tommy slaps a hand on the table for Evan to grasp. "He's not the one getting a ring, Evan."

"Damn right. His hands are way too small. You ever notice he's got dainty fingers? That thing would fall off his thumb."

Tommy's dimples twitch, and Evan's grin is triumphant.

---

"What are you doing Saturday?" Tommy asks, and from halfway across the station he can hear a faint "Handbook!" in Hen's voice.

Evan rolls his eyes.

"I have to put on a tux and marry this dude," Evan says. "Why, you got something else in mind?"

Tommy shifts half an inch closer. "What a coincidence. I have to marry some dude this Saturday, too."

"Buck has work today, Thomas! And this is technically against the rules, you're not supposed to see each other!" Howie, this time, much closer to the bay doors than Hen was.

Tommy taps his knuckles against the hood of his truck. Leans into Evans space and steals a quick kiss. "See you Saturday?"

"See you tomorrow," Evan says, and ignores the peanut gallery to steal a lingering kiss of his own.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 15

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual language and SMUT VERY FILTHY STRAP TOO OKAY BEWARNED Wordcount: 6,6K A/C: yeah so... we're back. this is so filthy. ALSO I DIDN'T PROOFREAD THIS. i love y'all go enjoy this you freaks

-

Before London

“Are you sure it’s okay I come?” I ask, smoothing over the all black dress, the satin feeling smooth underneath my fingertips. I watch in the reflection of the mirror as Paige fixes her loose curls over my shoulder. “Did you even ask Stewie?”

“Baby you’re my girlfriend. It’s fine,” she replies absentmindedly, lifting the white collar of her shirt to place the black tie around it. Girlfriend. The term still gave me goosebumps all over. That’s who I was. Paige Bueckers’ girlfriend. I had promised myself I wouldn’t be anyone’s girlfriend for a long time. But in the three weeks I had agreed to be one I had found it not to be as scary as my memory had tried to convince me. Nothing had changed really, we were still us. Still had to keep it a secret.

“Does she know?” I ask, pinning the loose strands of my bun down. Paige chews on her bottom lip, trying to do her tie, long fingers fumbling with it.

“Yeah, she said she’s gonna bring Marta,” the blonde says, having to undo her tie. “Don’t worry, she won’t say nothin’.”

“If you say so,” I sigh, cringing as I watch Paige struggle. “Oh dear heavens, let me.”

I turn and slap the girl’s hands off the tie. I could do it in seconds, but my hands linger as I tie it up for her, taking my time feeling the burn of her blue eyes on my skin. Paige’s hand wraps around my waist, sliding down to feel my ass through the fabric.

“We don’t gotta go tho, if you don’t wanna,” she murmurs in that voice that’s trying to convince me I want something I had never even thought of. Good thing I was smarter than her. 

“Paige,” I warn, acting strict as if it didn’t please me how badly she wanted me. Holding the end of the tie, I slide my other hand up the knot, tightening it enough around her neck.

“Fine,” she groans, heavy lidded eyes staring down at me. “We wearing silver tonight?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I murmur, folding the collar of the white button up down. We had begun a habit of wearing the same colour jewelry, gold some days, silver on others. It made us feel connected, even when we had to pretend to be worlds apart with the Wings. 

I finally meet Paige’s blue eyes, a jolt running through me seeing the hunger which she stared at me with. The blonde grins that lopsided smile that charmed the nation. “You look sexy,” she murmurs, slapping my ass.

A wide smile forms on my plump lips, green eyes flickering between her eyes and lips. Just one kiss might lead to something more, as it so often did with me and her. But my body was dying for it. My one vice. Yanking the red tie, I pull the blonde in, closing the distance between our lips. 

Our lips slide against one another in a sloppy exchange, the hunger amping up quickly. I keep tight hold of the tie, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige, thrilled by control I took and the pressure around her throat groans, exhaling heavily out of her nose.

“We need to go,” I murmur breathlessly. Paige nods but neither of us do anything to stop.

“I’m serious,” I mumble as the girl begins to kiss down my neck, nose inhaling my perfume as much as it could. 

“Yea, yea me too,” she whispers, both her hands kneading my ass. “Just gimmie four minutes mama.”

Considering her offer, I tilt my head to the side letting Paige’s wonderful, soft lips kiss against it tenderly igniting a burn between my thighs. Maybe four minutes wouldn’t be so bad? No, it always led to more. Four minutes always turned into forever with her

“No,” I giggle, pushing the girl off. “Let me put my heels on. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Paige stops me by my shoulders that were sparkling from the body highlighter I’d used. “I got you sumn.”

With that, the girl digs through her suitcase until she finds a large wrapped box, handing it over with both her hands. I grab it, gleaming. I had quickly figured out that Paige’s love language was definitely gift giving, her bringing me souvenirs from all sorts of places whenever she travelled alone, delivering me flowers and getting me jewelry for no other reason than “just because”.

“Open it.”

At her words I carefully unwrap the corners, neatly pulling the wrapper off. A box is revealed, a white text decorating the top spelling out Christian Louboutin Paris. My mouth drops, when I see the inside - the classic black heel with a bright red bottom. My heart stutters as I sit down on the end of the bed in awe, staring at the pair of shoes in my hands. She got me Louboutins. That’s not a three-weeks-in gift. No, that’s something more. It didn’t scare me like it might have a month ago. I knew if there was something Paige loved it was spoiling her loved ones.

“Oh darling,” I gasp, watching the blonde kneel in front of me and grab the shoes.

“May I?”

Nodding my flushed face, I watch Paige’s big hands wrap around the arch of my foot and slip the heel on, repeating it with each one. The blonde lifts my leg by my ankle, kissing it gently before placing it back down.

“Perfect fit,” she hums, satisfied. “You like em?”

“I love them Paige,” I gasp, standing back up with my girlfriend's help. “Thank you so much.”

She looks me up and down, shaking her head disbelief. “Can’t believe that’s all mine,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

-

“Oh she’s the exact same! Socks. Everywhere!”

I laugh, sipping on my red wine and nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! It can not be that difficult to take the socks and put them into the laundry basket!”

“They’re not even clean! Smelly and sweaty socks! Horrible!” Marta agrees, waving her glass around animatedly as she speaks.

“Yo, they’re not smelly!” Paige interrupts, shaking her head. “‘S not even that bad. Y’all are sock-shaming me.”

“I wouldn’t be sock-shaming you if they weren’t all over my beautiful living room,” I scoff.

“See, I got this one to stop and now I have toys all over my beautiful living room,” Marta chuckles, toying with the glass of wine between her fingertips. “You just have to train them well.”

“Ohhh,” I giggle. “So I have to train you,” I tell Paige, feeling her hand squeezing my thigh through the satin.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows, that familiar, stupid, charming grin on her face. “That’s kinda freaky.”

I narrow my eyes at her, fighting a smile. I knew that look. “Paige Madison!” I gasp. The grin falls off her face, an embarrassed redness spreading along her cheeks. Marta and Stewie both laugh. The night had been fun, conversation flowing easy between us and the couple. Me and Marta had obviously bonded quickly over our European backgrounds, finding humor in the habits of our American girls, such as their horrible table manners.

The restaurant was dimly lit, gentle jazz playing softly in the background. It was very fancy, definitely something Marta had picked out. The soft flame of the candle illuminates Paige’s tan skin in a warm light, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. She looked so effortlessly beautiful. I don’t think I had ever been so attracted to a person. Never in my past relationships I had looked at someone and physically felt butterflies - but whenever I looked at Paige I felt them fluttering away in my stomach. Every damn time.

“Forgive me,” Paige pleads, clutching at her chest dramatically.

“For a kiss,” I smile, already imagining how I’ll be pulling that tie later. Just not here. Not yet.

The blonde looks around, shaking her head subtly. “There’s a girl that been looking at me. I think she might know me.”

Exhaling, I look around too to indeed find a brown haired girl at a table, whispering around with her friends and staring at my girlfriend. A twitch of possessiveness grows inside me, wanting me to kiss her and claim her here and then. But I knew better, so I turn back to my salmon and eat it quietly.

“You still keeping it under wraps then?” Stewie asks, following the exchange closely.

“We don’t have a choice,” I respond. “Not unless I’m willing to lose my job. And if I lose my job I lose my visa, so.”

“What?” The older woman leans back, staring at me with furrowed eyes, her dark hair flowing past her shoulders. “Lose your job?”

“My boss doesn’t allow it, anyone dating the players.”

Marta scoffs. “Is that even allowed?”

I chuckle, shrugging. “Does it matter? She could just fire me for any reason and find a person to take over my position. I know how disposable I am.”

“No you’re not. Linda loves you,” Paige answers. “I think we should just tell her.”

This again. Frustration builds in my gut, making me clench my jaw. This was a very common conversation between me and the blonde. She simply didn’t understand the stakes - because it wasn’t she who would lose her job, it would be me. If this got out she’d still have her jersey, her sponsorships, her fame. Me? I’d lose everything.

“Definitely do not tell her if she’s said that,” Stewie disagrees. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” Paige mumbles.

“Wait so you’re here on a work visa, no? What are you doing after the season?” Marta asks me, raising her brows. I exhale heavily, I had been trying not to think about it.

“Go home I guess, try to find a job here or get my position back for next season. It’s still a little uh… undecided.”

Paige clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her seat. I could tell she didn’t want to think about it any more than I did.

“Damn, that sucks,” Stewie mumbles, putting down her fork. “If you need help looking I know some people, I can ask around.”

“Or you could just get married,” Marta jokes, looking through her purse.

Stewie’s gesture warms my heart. Truthfully, I had been trying to look for other jobs - no one wanted to hire the British girl and pay for the visa just to get a worker they could easily find in the States. But I am also far too proud to ever accept a favour like that, not unless I have something to offer in return.

“Oh shit,” Marta mumbles, scrolling on her phone. “Honey, we have to go. The sitter has a fever.”

“No way,” Stewie sighs, quickly downing the last bit of her wine. “We better get the check,” she mumbles, eyes flickering around for a waiter.

“Nahhh, you go. I got it,” Paige waves them off easily. Something about the confidence and practiced ease of the gesture forced me to squeeze my thighs together underneath the table. “Go home.”

“You sure?” Breanna asks, standing up and throwing her black denim jacket on. Paige nods assertively, while giving a shrill look to a man walking by, clearly checking me out. I feel her body press tighter against mine, like she wanted everyone to know she owned me.

“I think you have to go to that event alone tomorrow hun, I’ll have to stay with the kids,” Marta mumbles, fixing her hair absentmindedly.

“I guess so,” Stewie sighs, disappointed. Paige beside me gives me a look that I can’t read.

“We can babysit.”

Snapping my head, I turn to the blonde. “We can?”

“Why not?” She shrugs, “I’m great with kids. Trust.”

Of course she was. She was practically just another child herself.

“No, we couldn’t ask.” Stewie refuses. “Those two are a handful.”

I chuckle, nodding towards the blonde. “So is this one,” I joke, getting an offended scoff in response. “We would love to help. Really.”

Breanna and Marta eye each other for a moment, clearly having some sort of nonverbal discussion amongst themselves. It takes everything in me not to lean against Paige’s broad shoulder, I couldn’t wait to get home. Not for any lustful reason, genuinely what I craved most in the outside world was the gentle touches, the heavenly kisses or merely the way she brushed against me whenever I was near. 

“Are you sure about this?” Marta asks, my eyes snapping from my girlfriend to the woman.

“Definitely,” Paige responds with a sureness that would convince anyone. I couldn’t help but admire the way she showed up for those who needed her without needing anything in return. It wasn’t just me, it was family, friends, community. She was always there. Maybe she wasn’t the best with words or communicating. Because she didn’t communicate through words but actions. Maybe that would make it all worth suffering over scattered socks.

-

New York City is warm on the July evening, but the slight breeze makes me carefully place my jacket over Izara’s shoulders as we wait for our car to arrive. The dark haired girl smiles bashfully but grabs hold of the fabric. The leather swallowed her, cocooning Izzie with warmth. The loose strands of her bun flow in the air, covering some of her face. I can’t help but reach over and brush them behind her ear - I couldn’t bear not to see her eyes. Those sharp, knowing, challenging eyes I had grown to look for everywhere I went.

“Thank you,” she hums, fluttering her long lashes at me. I nearly groan from how bad I want to kiss her, to taste her lips tinted red with wine. My insides twist at the sound of her smooth but low voice, a warmth like no other spreading over me.

“Do you remember that first time we shared a car months ago?” Izzie asks, the corners of her mouth lifted upwards.

“Yeah,” I grin, looking to the ground thinking about how I had probably never been so attracted to anyone in my entire life. “You were intimidating as hell.”

“I could tell you were scared of me,” she laughs, looking around the busy street for the car. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

I shake my head, laughing too at the memory of how I’d acted a fool. “Nah, I was just so attracted to you like, the minute I saw you.”

“Me too,” she admits, green eyes twinkling at me under the street lamps.

“Forreal?” I ask surprised. If this was true she hadn’t let it show. Or I had been too blind to notice.

“Yes Paige, forreal.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her use of the word, affection overwhelming me. “Look at you using my lingo.”

Izara rolls her eyes, pushing me away by my face. “Do not think for a second you’ll Americanize me.”

“You’re so cute just wanna eat you up,” I laugh easily, wrapping my hands around her waist from behind. 

“Is that a promise?” She teases, swaying us back and forth.

“Always ma,” I lean over to say into her ear, fighting every cell in me to start kissing her. “I like you so bad, y’know that?” The words didn’t seem sufficient to really express how I felt, all of them too vapid to describe the stirring inside me. “So bad it makes me stupid.”

Izzie laughs, nodding knowingly. “I like you too baby,” she hums. “So much.”

Just then, our car finally pulls up, stopping right in front of us. I thank God for rewarding my patience, opening the door and slipping in after my beautiful girl who I liked, no adored, more than anything. That word doesn’t feel right either, too lackluster, too void of what I was feeling. I’m sure I’d find the right word someday.

-

“Okay so snacks are in the fridge. Feel free to eat anything you’d like. And I’lll have my ringer up if you need to call, oh also don’t worry about cleaning up-”

“Marta, baby,” Breanna chuckles, taking her wife’s hand. “I think they got it.”

“I promise, we’ll be okay,” Izzie smiles. “Go have fun, I’ll have my phone on me.”

Marta sighs, looking at us two before going up to the kids who are sitting on the couch, both watching Bluey. 

“Mommy’s gonna be back soon okay? Be good to Paige and Zari. I love you,” she mumbles to each of them, kissing their foreheads before returning to the door. “Okay okay okay, we need to go now.”

“I’ll carry you out if I have to,” Stewie jokes, helping Marta put her coat on. “Alright, bye now. See you in a couple hours.”

“Bye y’all, have fun,” I wave, closing the door behind the couple. Carefully, I turn to Ruby and Theo expecting at the very least a few cries. But the pair sit happily on the couch, too invested in the cartoon.

“Hey my loves,” Izzie smiles to the two of them, crouching on the couch in front of the kids. “I got you some surprises.”

This catches Ruby’s attention, her eyes flickering to Izara’s bag as she digs through it and pulls out a few pots of playdough we had picked up this morning. 

“Have you ever played with this?” She asks, waving the pots around. But Ruby ignores her.

“Why do you talk like that?” She asks, clearly confused. I burst into laughter, Izara trying to hide her amusement to not offend the little girl.

“Ohh, see, I have an accent,” she explains kindly. “I’m from England. It’s in Europe.”

“Did you fly here?” Ruby questions, scooting to the edge of the couch closer to Iz.

“I sure did,” she smiles. “On a plane.”

“I flied on the sky with a big plane,” the little girl explains.

“Wow, really?” Izzie asks enthusiastically. “Did you like it?”

The little girl thinks for a while. “I was scawed. Theo cried too much.”

Iz laughs, scooting closer to her carefully. “Aw, maybe he was nervous.”

“It was loud. I covered my ears. Like this,” Ruby demonstrates, covering her ears with her little hands. Me and Izara laugh at the girl, her hair in sweet little pigtails. “What’s that?” Her tiny hand points to the yellow pots in Izzie’s hands.

“Oh, this is playdough. Have you ever played with it before?”

“What’s playdoh?”

“Well how about we go to the table and look at it? Would you like to come with me?” Carefully, Izzie holds out her hand for the young girl. She goes back and forth, until in a moment of bravery, she grabs Izara’s finger, and begins to wobble over to the kitchen. I watch the two of them, my heart fluttering at the sight.

“Theooo, cmere bro,” I coo at the younger boy who smiles at me easily, holding up his little arms and letting me carry him over to the kitchen table where Izzie and Ruby are already molding the playdough.

“I make a tiara and put it on my head,” Ruby gleams, beginning to place the playdough all over her hair.

“Oh goodness,” Iz stops her just before disaster strikes, grabbing the dough from her hands. “How about we keep the playdough on the table, and make crowns out of something else?”

Ruby sighs dramatically - until her eyes light up. “Wait!” she gasps, taking off running. Her little feet quickly jog back with two plastic tiaras in her hands. “Now I’m a princess!” She giggles, placing one of them in her head. “You too!”

“For me?” Izzie smiles, taking the crown from the girl. Somehow the plastic tiara gently laid on her black hair makes her sparkle in a way I had never seen before.

“Yes! You’re a princess too!”

“Hey!” I gasp, letting Theo squeeze and mold the dough while sitting on my knee. “I’m not a princess?”

“Hmm,” Ruby thinks, eyeing me up and down. “You can be a cowboy. Or a dog.”

“Woof woof!” Theo cheers, clapping his hands together and getting the dough all over the floor.

Izzie laughs gently, molding a heart out of the red playdough and handing it to me. I almost melt. So I can’t help it when I grab a hold of her soft hand, kissing it gently.

“Are you two married?” Ruby asks without missing a beat. Me and my Izara chuckle, my skin turning hot.

“She wishes,” Iz teases, kicking me underneath the table. “We’re not. But we’re girlfriends.”

“Okay and do you have a baby?” The little girl continues. A redness spreads over Izara’s cheeks as I wiggle my brows at her. I don’t need to say anything. She knows exactly what’s on my mind.

“We don’t,” Iz says, her green eyes moving to the little girl, gasping when she finally realised Ruby had combined all the colours into one brown pile despite her long discussion with the little girl.

“Ruby, what are you doing?” She asks, covering her mouth with her hand.

“I make a rainbow!”

I scoff lightheartedly. “That’s not a rainbow, it’s brown.”

The little girl tilts her head, looking at the brown pile before beginning to laugh hysterically. “It’s a poop rainbow!”

Theo erupts into giggles, banging his hands on the table.

-

“You regretting it yet my love?” I chuckle, watching Paige wiping sweat off her forehead after taking turns spinning the two kids up in the air. Mind you, this had been going on for the past 20 minutes.

“Again, again!” Theo cheers, pulling on the blonde’s sweatpants. 

“God help me,” Paige mumbles to me and herself, pulling her white t-shirt off over her head, leaving the girl in a black sports bra, sweat dripping down her veiny arms.

“More Paigey!” Ruby whines, jumping up and down.

“Okay my loves, I think Paigey needs a little break,” I say gently, handing Theo a toy dinosaur to redirect his energy. The little boy sits down, happily roaring to himself as he plays. But I can see the quiver in Ruby’s lower lip as disappointment takes over.

“Moreeee,” she sniffles and then erupts into tears, beginning to cry loudly.

Paige’s eyes widen in a panic. “I can go one more ti-”

But I stop her, shaking my head. Paige can’t just bend to the girl’s will because of some tears.

Getting down on Ruby’s level, I grab her tiny hands into mine, establishing eye contact.

“Ruby, hey Ruby, look at me,” I coo, my thumbs brushing against the soft skin. “You’re feeling really disappointed huh?”

The little girl nods, cheeks red and filled with tears. “Really wanted to spin,” she says in a shaky voice.

“I know darling,” I say empathetically. “You know what always helps me when I’m sad? Taking some deep breaths. Would you want to do some with me?”

Ruby nods sadly, beginning to follow my breathing pattern - inhaling through your nose, exhaling through your mouth. We do that until she stops tearing up, Paige’s ocean blue eyes eyeing us carefully.

“Would you like a hug Ruby?” I carefully ask. The little girl immediately wraps her short arms around me, squeezing tight. I can’t help but smile, holding her tight and lifting my eyes to find Paige staring, her eyes soft and gentle as she watches me take care of the girl.

“I got an idea Ruby,” she says, crouching down beside. “You wanna build a fort?”

“Wow! That’d be great huh?” I ask the girl who finally lets go of me, nodding excitedly. “I’ll go make a snack while you do that.”

In the kitchen I begin to cut slices out of apples behind the corner, listening to the muffled laughter and joy erupting from the living room. A wide smile spreads onto my face as I bite into an apple slice, butterflies filling my stomach at the sound of Paige playing with the children. In this moment I could burst with the affection I felt for her. There was something about seeing her with kids, the way she made them giggle effortlessly, the way her strong arms held them, protected them, took care of them. Something about it had me going weak in the knees.

I jump slightly, feeling a hand wrap around my waist from behind, the scent of sandalwood cocooning me. 

“You’re amazing, y’know that?” Paige murmurs into my ear, her hot breath causing shivers to run up and down my spine. “You’re so good with em.”

I chuckle softly, letting out a shaky breath when the blonde’s soft lips brush against the crook of my neck. “You’re everything,” I reply, my voice turning vulnerable. 

Paige’s strong hands spin me around by my waist, now eye to eye with her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares - like she’s trying to comprehend something. My breath hitches, chest tightening under her gaze. She looks at me with her pupils blown. chest rising and falling a little too fast, like her heart couldn’t keep quiet, soft cheeks flushed red. I wasn’t sure why or what it meant.

“Fuck I like you so much,” she murmurs, making me blush. I knew exactly how she felt. I felt it too, or at least I thought I did.

“PAIGEYY!” A loud scream erupts from the living room, followed by the tapping of little feet. “Hurry up! I wanna play Frozen and be Elsa in my fort!”

The little girl peaks around the corner, Paige instinctively taking a step back to create space between us.

“You can be Sven!” Ruby says, waving around a pair of toy reindeer antlers.

-

There’s a soreness pulsing through all my muscles when I kick off my shoes, placing them neatly in the corner of the hotel room and walking in. Paige follows behind me, her hoodie coming up and showcasing her lower stomach as she stretches her arms.

“I’m so beat,” she murmurs. I nod, beginning to undress eagerly to get into my favourite pyjamas - Paige’s shirt. I pull off my top and shorts, and I'm left to dig through the suitcase in my satin lingerie. Suddenly I feel the blonde’s hands on me, unbuckling my bra for me from behind, releasing my breasts from its hold as it falls off me.

“Paige,” I scold lightheartedly, but she doesn’t speak, her fingers slide around me and brush against my nipples making them grow hard. With a shaky exhale, I lean my head back against her shoulder, my hands holding the white button down I slept in while she kneads my breasts, perfectly fitting into the palms of her large hands. Those perfect fucking hands.

“Want you mama,” she whispers into my ear, kissing along it. I moan gently, giggling a little.

“I need to- ah- wash my face first darling,” I mumble. “Keep it in your pants just a little bit longer.”

Paige groans but let’s go, rubbing her jaw in frustration. “Just be quick.”

I hurry into the bathroom, my meticulous skincare routine impossible to make quick despite my girlfriend’s wishes. Finally, after 20 minutes or so I walk out to the low rumbling of Paige’s snores, finding her laid on her back in just a sports bra and boxers, arm thrown over her face. That’s mine.

I merely watch for a moment, taking her in, taking the day in. A warm feeling overwhelms me, and the urge to curl up next to the blonde grows bigger than ever before. Everybody wanted her, yet she was all mine, worshipping the ground I walked on. Little did she know I felt the exact same.

Tiptoeing around the room, I turn off the lights, crawling into bed beside her, covering both of us in the white cotton of the duvet. Before I fall asleep, I lean into her neck, smelling the sandalwood one more time before my eyelids grow too heavy to keep admiring her.

-

It can’t be more than ten in the morning when I feel wet, sloppy kisses being placed into the back of my neck, fingers pushing my hair to the side. I stir, still half asleep, nuzzling my face into the pillow as I lie on my stomach. A gentle touch running down my spine slowly, goosebumps spreading everywhere. 

Another kiss, now on my shoulder as fingers reach under me to undo the two buttons I had been sensible to do last night. I stir again, my body subconsciously helping by allowing the white button up to be pulled off my body, leaving me in a light pink satin thong.

“Mmh,” I hum against the cotton, bringing my hand to rub the sleepiness off my eyes when there’s a gentle shush in my ear.

“Go back to sleep ma,” Paige coos. Another wet kiss on my ear this time, sending jolts to my core. “Just wanna eat your pussy.”

Oh. Suddenly I feel more awake, and even eager, my legs spreading without me even noticing. Paige does though, grinning proudly as she kisses between my shoulderblades, wet, hot, messy kisses leaving a glistening trail down my spine. My eyes maintain closed, my brain still partly asleep but my body’s alert, my back curving my ass into the air when Paige’s lips go lower and lower.

The weight of the blonde on the mattress shifts as she sits up to admire me, both her hands gently grabbing my ass and kneading, seeing the way my light pink thong covering my cunt is peeking out between my thighs, teasing her. I feel the air hitting my core as she grabs my ass more harshly, my back arching involuntarily joined by a desperate whine. How quickly I’d gone from being asleep to dying to have her.

“I know mama, I know,” she murmurs lovingly, fingertips stroking up and down my thighs, spreading them apart just slightly. “I’ma take care of you. Gonna make it all better.”

Her words comfort me only a little, but they don’t fix the aching, dripping sensation between my thighs. Finally, Paige’s fingertips dip underneath the band of my thongs as she pulls them down my thighs with a gasp.

“Damn you’re so wet,” she hisses, slowly spreading my legs the slightest bit. “You dream of me or sumn?”

I’m too dazed and gone to answer, my only response to lift my ass off the mattress enough to give Paige a good view.

“Relax,” she whispers and finally I feel her warm tongue lick along my slit, flat against my dripping pussy once, twice, three times.

“Oh,” I gasp, my fists gripping the white sheets underneath me. Paige moans at the taste of me, pulling back to fill her lungs with air before diving fully in.

Suddenly it’s like she’s everywhere, moving slow but with precise movements, making me feel her all over.

“Baby,” I whimper as Paige’s hands spread my lips apart, burying her face deep enough into my cunt so I feel her nose pressing inside me. “Shit.”

She’s moaning harder than I am, eyes rolled back as she pulls back to spit into my folds, just to dive right back in and slurp all of it up.

“Shit’s so wet huh?” Paige mumbles against my clit, sending vibrations everywhere. My eyes begin to water, the pillow muffling my moans.

Needing more, I prop myself up onto my knees so my ass is in the air. Easier access. Paige groans, pulling back to admire my wet, pulsing pussy - one of her favourite things to do. I swear sometimes she just lied between my legs looking at me.

“Fucking shit,” she cusses, spreading me apart to see the gushes of wetness dripping out of me with every throb, quickly bringing her tongue back to my cunt as to not waste a drop. 

“Paige,” I whimper, legs trembling with need. I needed to cum. Bad. “Don’t stop.”

“Yes ma’am,” she replies without hesitation. Suddenly she’s back at it, her tongue swirling in my folds, circling my clit until she begins to lap me up the way only she knew how.

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” I gasp. Paige nods against my pussy, the sounds of her slurping me up filthy. “Make me feel so good.”

“Shit…” Paige mumbles, “tell me again, please.”

“You make- ah shit, make me feel so good baby,” I moan, the throbbing becoming harder and harder to as I got closer.

She moans at my words, they only egg her on. It’s like she’s everywhere, gripping my thighs, slurping me up, taking my clit into her mouth and sucking on it gently. I can’t help it anymore.

“Baby I- I’m- I’m gonna-“ I gasp, my moaning turning uncontrollable as she eats me. A simple nod is enough to have me rolling off the edge, grasping the sheets and gasping for air as I cum.

The blonde praises me through it, her words a distant comfort as waves of ecstasy wash over me, my wetness covering her entire face.

Weakly, I roll onto my back. My chest heaves and my eyes remain closed, but Paige crawls up from between my legs and begins to kiss me. Tenderly, lovingly, with so much emotion it surprises me.

The taste of me is all over her face as my mouth wrap around her bottom lip, pulling on it gently. She grins in response, stroking my sides and arms to bring me down.

“Iz?” She asks. Her voice is uncharacteristically shaky and nervous which alerts me enough to open my eyes.

“Yes my darling?”

She meets my gaze with her blue eyes filled with lust. 

“I bought it, thought we could try… y’know.”

Oh I immediately know. I gulp. The strap had been left untouched waiting for the right moment. Maybe this was it?

Paige, too nervous to wait for me to speak, begins to kiss my neck, her breathing irregular and ragged.

“I just wanna feel you,” she murmurs, trailing downwards with wet kisses. She sucks on my collarbone, surely leaving a red mark. “Please.”

Paige’s big hands come to my full breasts, kneading gently. My hands finds its way into her hair, guiding her mouth to my nipple in a moment of desperation.

“Ahh,” I moan softly, Paige’s soft lips sucking my nipple and breast, making my back arch in response. I swear something about her mouth on my tits had me almost cumming sometimes.

“Please, just wanna be inside you ma,” she whimpers. Looking down I see her eyes watering as she her eyes roll into her head, so desperate and hungry I nearly had her in tears. “Please mommy.”

I gasp at her words, an immediate jolt rushing back to my core, still throbbing and sensitive. Paige keeps sucking on my nipples, her tongue circling them. I don’t think she realised what she said.

“Okay, okay baby.”

-

What I hadn’t considered was how wild just seeing the strap on Paige would have me, the silicone resting on her with her veiny hand stroking it like it was an extension of her. It might as well have been, the color matching Paige’s skin tone perfectly.

“Fuck,” she’s already panting as she climbs into the bed, eyes locked on her hand wrapped around the length.

My breathing is shaky too, a nearly painful feeling of emptiness inside me making me whiny.

“Baby,” I whisper to get the blonde’s attention.

“Yeah?”

When her blue eyes meet mine, I finally spread my legs apart, watching her gaze trail down to my core.

“Shit, okay, yeah,” Paige mumbles flustered, settling herself between my legs. She’s trembling, a bead of sweat dripping down her neck. 

I gasp, feeling the silicone press gently against my slit. Paige gasps too, eyes locked onto where our bodies met as she taps the strap against my clit. I moan, brows furrowed. Fuck this. I couldn’t wait any more. The emptiness was too painful.

I reach down, taking charge and grabbing the silicone, guiding it against my folds until it’s glistening with wetness. Paige’s jaw falls slack, her eyes growing even heavier than before. Even more so when I finally guide the tip to my entrance, my leg wrapping around her waist to slip its length inside me.

“Oh sh-“ I gasp, immediately throwing my head back when I feel the intrusion. She’s big, of course she is, enough to make my legs tremble as I get overwhelmed.

“Holy fuck,” Paige hisses, watching closely as her strap - no her dick - stretches me open. “Izzie.”

“P-Paige,” I cry out.

“I’m here baby,” she whimpers, bringing her thumb to my lips and brushing it against mine as I adjust to her.

“S-So big,” I murmur, hissing as Paige slowly pushes deeper inside.

“Ah, fuck,” she cusses. “But you take it so well baby, take my dick so well.”

I moan at her words. “Baby, please.”

Nodding, mouth ajar, Paige begins to roll her hips, the strap slipping in and out of me. The stretch borders on overwhelming, a gasp spilling from my lips every time she thrusts her hips into mine.

“Fuck, look at that,” Paige hisses, eyes flickering between my chest, bouncing as she fucks me, and where her strap is digging into me, my pussy gushing and stretching around it. “Goddamn.”

She begins to go faster, my hands reaching up for her shoulders and pulling her down. We meet in a breathy kiss, both taking turns to moan into each other’s mouths. The sound of skin slapping fills the hotel room, my pussy loud as hell around her length.

“Baby, fuck,” I moan louder than before, and Paige takes it as a sign to reach down and rub sloppy circles on my clit. As she does, a gush of wetness bursts out of me, covering her thighs and dampening the sheets.

“Oh sh- Does my dick feel good? Deep inside that pussy?

I nod, my eyes rolling back. “Feel so good. I love your dick.”

“Shit,” she cusses. “W-want me to cum inside you?”

I nod again, in a complete haze, too drunk off her to think. “Please, need you to. Want you to put a baby in me.”

Paige’s head lulls back and forth, a loud moan leaving her lips. “Don’t worry, I’ma put a baby in you. Gonna get you pregnant.”

“Let me give you a baby,” I moan back. She’s pounding into me now, and as I open my eyes I find her eyes rolling back, jaw slack and brows furrowed.

“Holy- Shit, baby, I’ma put a baby in you. Take me so well. So deep in you- shit, in your guts.”

She’s rambling, the way she did whenever she got close. Wait? She’s close? Without being touched?

It only gets me wetter, my nails digging into her skin and leaving red marks all over. 

“Are you close?” I ask in a shock, moaning as she thrusts into me hard. Our noses nuzzle against each other with each pump, her lips hovering over mine as we whimper into each other’s mouths.

“C-can’t help it, swear I can feel it,” she mumbles. “Swear I can feel this pussy, ma, so fucking wet and tight. Sh- she’s so perfect.”

“Paige, baby,” I cry out, looking at her scrunched up face as the knot in my abdomen tightens and tightens. “Baby, I’m close.”

“M-me too, lemme cum inside you, please, feel so good, I love you, I’ma cum,” Paige rambles, but I barely hear her, as my pussy grips around her dick, the knot finally snapping as she slams her hips into mine, cumming with me. Curses as moans fill the room as the thrusts turn sloppy and slower, both of us riding out our highs. But I only hear one thing. Paige’s voice saying I love you, ringing in my ears painfully.'

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers @ohmybueckers@potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @paige05bby @paigebaby5

[luvergirl-535]

meet cute, but worse

part - 1

word count - 5.1k

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

c/w - alcohol, throwup, mostly chaos lol. very very unserious.

a/n - my first piece in all lowercase letters and tell me why it was easier to write that way😔. anyway will release the other part to this before releasing anything else. can’t tell you when that will be, i’m booked and busy for awhile but i lowkey love this so i wanna keep writing sooner rather than later! based off this prompt 🙂‍↕️

(also, live reacts and feedback are very much appreciated 😛)

(also also, very unedited)

this night could not possibly get any worse.

with a face of ruined makeup, a lost wallet, and a chlorine-soaked designer dress, azzi fudd really begins regretting her decision to come on this cruise with chad at all.

especially considering chad—aka the guy who convinced her to come on the cruise, aka her boyfriend, aka the man who’s supposed to stay by her side and lead her through crowded rooms with a steady hand on her waist and buy all her drinks—has officially disappeared. and now here she is, standing outside the women’s bathroom wondering where her boyfriend, who’d promised to wait for her, has gone.

furious, azzi whips her phone out of her purse (both of which are still miraculously on her person, despite her horrible luck) and immediately dials her boyfriend’s number. if he doesn’t pick up on the first goddamn ring, azzi swears to god she’ll—

it goes to voicemail.

with a frustrated grunt, azzi sends him a quick, casual text: if you don’t get your ass to the room right fucking now i swear to god chad we’re over.

satisfied with that, azzi stuffs her phone back into her purse, runs a hand over her wet braids, and begins to make the treacherous journey back to her suite.

it’s midnight, which means all the minors on the ship have officially been sent to their rooms and all the adults have ventured to their various adult activities: r-rated comedy shows, drunken karaoke, and, for the younger adults, the nightclub.

it’s an indoor club, with strobe lights and surprisingly good music and amazing drinks. there’s a pool, and a bar, and some nice bathrooms.

it is this very bathroom—and this very nightclub—that azzi makes her way out of. it’s slow, and difficult, the club packed with inebriated bodies who seem determined to keep her from leaving. as she moves through the crowd, a few people give her strange looks, or stop to ask her why her dress is sopping wet. she ignores them all. if she didn’t, she’s not sure she’d have nice things to say.

she’s nearly at the exit when there’s a commotion directly behind her. against her better judgment, azzi pauses, turning to see where the loud, rambunctious noises are coming from. she regrets her decision to do so almost immediately—it’s nothing interesting, really. just a group of tall, clearly wasted girls playfully fighting with each other. based off the way they’re (badly) singing, they obviously know the song blasting over the speakers. almost all of them have drinks in their hands and azzi can’t help but roll her eyes at the way they’re hyping each other up.

even looking at them has azzi overwhelmed—she needs to get out of here. needs to get back to the comfort of her room, where she can pull herself together and chew chad out and get a good night’s sleep.

but, just as she resumes her exit, a body slams directly into her. she’s knocked off guard and absolutely helpless in the heels she stupidly put on earlier this evening, and she lets herself fall back into the rambunctious girls with something akin to resignation. this is it. this is my life now.

luckily, a few hands shoot out to brace her as she tumbles directly into their dance session. this means she doesn’t land on her ass, which is a good thing, but it also means she is currently being touched by, like, 12 different hands, which is a very, very bad sensory thing.

once she’s righted, azzi rips herself away from their grasps as calmly as anyone can rip away from something, and finds herself in the midst of their little circle.

“my bad,” she calls over the music, hugging her arms around herself in order to keep from bumping into any more sweaty bodies. “i got pushed and—“

“you okay, girlypop?” one of the girls says.

“yeah, that looked scary!” another younger, wide-eyed girl yells over the music.

azzi tries to reassure them, but they all start talking over one another at once, asking if she’s okay and apologizing and wondering if she wants to hang out for a drink and azzi backs up, imperceptibly, trying to escape from these drunk girls—but she bumps into someone else in doing so.

from then on, it happens in slow motion.

azzi turns around.

she catches a vision of blonde hair, someone slightly taller than she is.

she prepares herself to mumble an apology.

and then, with horrifyingly little warning, blondie bends over and pukes.

directly. on. azzi’s. shoes.

“oh my god!” azzi can’t help but cry, jumping back instinctively, and the other girls yell out with her.

“oh, shit!” the girl from earlier—one of the shorter of the group, the one with twists—jumps over to stand in between the puker and azzi. she puts her hand on the still bent-over woman’s shoulders. “boogs! what the hell!”

azzi thinks the woman might mumble in response, but she can’t hear much at all over the music. and she’s also a little preoccupied staring in shock at the bile on her feet.

with a sigh, the other girl spins around to face azzi. “i am so sorry, girl. she been acting crazy all night and honestly—we shouldn’t’a even let her out.” she tries for a good-natured laugh, but azzi just stares at her, mouth agape.

“right, guys?” the girl continues nervously, but then looks around and apparently realizes that the rest of her friend group have ditched her to take care of the awkward moment. she makes an offended noise. “fake bitches,” she mumbles.

with a little shuffle, the girl comes to stand beside her obviously ill friend, grabbing her by the shoulder and patting her on the chest. “so, uh, p, i get you’re going through it right now, baby, i really do. but you just threw up on this nice lady so i think maybe we should focus on one thing at a time.”

it’s only then that azzi’s attacker finally straightens up. her hands are placed firmly over her stomach, and her face is streaked with mascara—not to mention her complexion is slightly green.

but azzi recognizes her instantly.

and, despite the fact this girl is obviously not in her right mind, she recognizes azzi, too.

“paige?” azzi says incredulously, at the same time paige slurs, “oh, no.”

the other girl looks between them a little nervously, unsure of what to do next.

except, no, she’s not the other girl. she’s kk arnold, azzi recognizes now. guard at uconn.

and those other girls…fuck. azzi replays the memory in her mind, now with their faces attached to her resurfaced knowledge. they weren’t just some group of college girls.

azzi has had a run-in with the uconn women’s basketball team.

and she’s just been thrown up on by none other than paige fucking bueckers.

so much for getting a good nights sleep tonight.

—————————————

“so, remind me how y’all know each other?” kk says as they walk up to paige’s room. she has an arm around paige’s waist, fully supporting her, and she doesn’t look all too fazed by tonight’s events. azzi gets the feeling paige throwing up on people might be a regular event. which is just…awful.

paige answers with a groan.

sighing, azzi rubs her temple, trying desperately to ignore the smell of sick wafting up from her feet. “usa basketball. we played together.”

“oh,” kk responds. “you play?”

azzi doesn’t answer, just waits. paige elbows kk. kk says, “ow!” paige says, “kk, get your head out of your ass and look at her.”

so, kk does. she looks at her for the first time since they left the club, now under the bright hallway lights rather than the dim, strobing club ones. and it’s only a moment before realization dawns on her face. “oh, shoot! paige!” she stops dead in her tracks, letting go of paige to face her. “girl, that’s azzi fudd!”

“i know, kk,” paige mumbles.

kk turns to azzi. “you say y’all played together, what, 2018?”

“2017,” azzi and paige correct at the same time. azzi tries to meet her eyes, but paige has had her head hung low this entire time. she’s either sick or deeply disturbed or both. likely both.

they continue walking, and azzi recalls her time at camp. the memories are a little hazy, faded as all memories are. but she remembers paige—how could she not? the only girl who really gave her a run for her money, the only girl who met her competitiveness head-on. they played—well, they played amazingly together, oddly enough. azzi remembers she never really wanted to talk to the girl, who seemed loud and arrogant and overwhelming. but their chemistry on the court, without ever speaking to each other, was incredible.

she does have one very clear memory: the plane ride back. she’d been sitting in her seat, ready for the flight, when paige had hesitated beside her while walking down the aisle.

azzi had looked up, curious. “hi.”

paige’s cheeks had flushed bright red, which seemed completely out of character for the girl azzi had thought she was. “oh, uh. hey.”

azzi stayed silent.

paige scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “hey, i, um.” it looked like she was trying to convince herself to say something—almost like she was building courage to say it. a little flicker of something bubbled in azzi’s chest. anticipation, maybe? she doesn’t know; she’s never been able to figure out what that feeling meant.

all she knows is she felt disappointment when paige had sighed defeatedly and said, “can i put my bag in your overhead?”

she’d nodded. paige had said thank you. and they’ve never spoken again.

“yeah, yeah,” kk waves them off, hauling paige the rest of the way down the hall. “whatever. basically, i’m tryna say, it’s been seven years since then, right?”

azzi presses the up button, then leans against the wall. “yeah…”

“well, paige has had a massive crush on you for about eight of them.”

in an instant, kk is turned around, paige’s front pressed to her back as they lowkey wrestle. paige has a hand slapped over kk’s mouth, but that doesn’t stop her evil cackling from coming through.

paige glances over her shoulder. “she’s lying.”

azzi watches the commotion, and thinks such a scene wouldn’t have been made if kk was really lying. “uh-huh.”

“serious,” paige insists. it’s the most emotion azzi has heard from her tonight.

“okay.” the door dings open, and azzi sucks in a deep breath, being the first to step inside. “well, uh…”

kk wrangles out of paige’s grip, walking somewhat sassily into the elevator. “yeah, let’s go. p!”

paige glowers at them across the threshold.

“c’mon, girly. get in here.”

they have to hold the doors open, but eventually, and not looking particularly happy about it, paige steps inside.

azzi begins to regret agreeing to go to her room with them.

————————————

“ok, take those shoes off, stink,” kk instructs as soon as they enter paige’s suite. azzi doesn’t hesitate to comply, slipping out of her heels without looking at them, careful not to dip her toes in any throw-up. although she’s sure there are more than a few fangirls who’d sell their soul for some paige bueckers bodily fluids.

once she’s out of them, she hovers by the door awkwardly, and kk and paige exchange a glance. they obviously have some sort of silent conversation within the second-long look, because it has kk laughing. “you’re funny.”

“please,” paige murmurs.

“hell, no. you puke it, you nuke it.”

“that doesn’t rhyme, stupid-head.”

azzi watches them, a small, amused smile coming over her face despite herself.

“wait, what?” kk says, leaning her ear towards Paige.

“i said—“

“ever,” kk interrupts with a wide grin. “now go nuke those nasty shoes, for real.” kk glances at azzi and gives her a once-over before saying, “and get fudd-fudd some dry clothes while you’re at it.”

leaning down, paige grabs the shoes by the heels and grumbles something as she disappears into the bedroom. once she’s gone, kk ushers azzi further inside, leading her into the kitchen. “so,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “you in love with her yet, or what?”

azzi scoffs. “she’s not exactly charming.”

“oh, no, she real charming.” kk glances at the closed bedroom door, then leans forward, motioning for azzi to step closer. when she does, kk lowers her voice. “she just gets nervous around you.”

“i haven’t talked to paige in years,” azzi says, a little confused. a crush, she understands—many people have had crushes on azzi before. but no way paige gets nervous around her, when they’re never even around each other to begin with.

“nah, but you notice how we’ve never won a game against y’all?” kk asks.

“yeah.” of course azzi’s noticed. most people have—uconn is the team to beat, but in the four years azzi’s been in college, they’ve never once won against ucla.

“ever wonder why?”

“because we’re better than you,” azzi responds all too quickly.

kk makes an unamused face at her. “no, it’s because paige is too busy having wet fantasies about you instead of playing the damn game.“

azzi waves this off. “excuses.”

“i’m being serious.” kk nudges her in the arm, then pulls her a little closer, once again lowering her voice. “and you wanna know something else?”

azzi sighs like she doesn’t, but really, she does—she’s always been too nosey for her own good. “tell me.”

“every girl p’s ever hooked up with is a mixed baller with curly hair and brown eyes. and if she has dimples, paige lets her stay the night.”

azzi downright barks out a laugh at this one. “i’m starting to think you’re making all this shit up.”

“just watch,” kk says cryptically. “you’ll see.”

azzi wants to ask more—like, is it confirmed that paige has wet fantasies about her?—but the bedroom door opens and azzi turns her head to see paige standing in the doorway, a pair of clothes bundled in her arms. azzi does her best to keep a straight face but she must look a little guilty because paige narrows her eyes at them. “what were y’all talking about?”

“how i been constipated lately,” kk says a little too quickly. azzi valiantly keeps her expression neutral. “azzi was giving me advice.”

azzi nods somberly. paige looks borderline mortified, which is not a look azzi ever thought she’d see on someone like her. “can you try to be cool for once?” she asks kk.

“you’re the one who puked on her,” kk says. “if she could get scared away, she wouldn’t be here.”

paige sighs, stepping closer, into the kitchen with them. her cheeks are tinged pink, from alcohol or kk’s antics or—maybe something else, azzi thinks as paige avoids eye contact with her while handing over the pair of clothes. “uh, here.”

“thanks,” azzi says. she reaches for the clothes, letting her right hand just brush paige’s own before pulling back, watching for a reaction. there’s not much, but when paige’s hands are free, she shakes out the right one as if she’s been shocked.

azzi makes a little mental note. interesting. very interesting.

“you can change, um, back there,” paige says, throwing a thumb back over her shoulder before scratching awkwardly at her neck. “or, like, wherever, i’on care.”

azzi’s eyebrows raise on their own accord. paige opens her mouth, then closes it, then says, “i mean, you could also go to the bathroom or sum’. obviously you shouldn’t change, like, here. that’d be—weird.“

“riiiight,” azzi drawls, a small, amused smile playing on her face.

“so, uh, yeah.” paige sidesteps, motioning for azzi to pass. “go ‘head.”

——————————————

once she’s on her own, she takes it in—the privacy, the quiet. it’s been a long fucking night. she cannot wait to get to her own room and just sleep.

well, she’ll need a shower first. shower, then sleep. or maybe she’ll even indulge in a bath. the mere thought of it has her shoulders relaxing.

but then, her phone buzzes inside her purse. and her shoulders are tense all over again, because that’s got to be chad—texting her back thirty minutes late—and since when does she want to deal with chad?

a bit reluctantly, she pulls her phone out of her purse. it’s only at five percent and so she ignores all her other notifications, going straight to she and chad’s messages.

sure enough, he’s just responded to her last text: sorry baby, got caught up lmfaooo. you tryna fuck tn?

and then, sry for pushing u in the pool fr

waiting for you in da room

well, fuck.

that’s the first thing that crosses azzi’s mind. because, after the shit he’s pulled tonight—and every other night in the two months they’ve been together, honestly—they’re over. she’s done. which means she’ll either have to fight with him for their room for the rest of the trip, or sleep by the goddamn pool. and confrontation has never been her thing.

tossing her phone onto the bed, azzi discards of her purse, as well, before reaching behind herself to unzip her dress. her day might have been shit, but at least she finally gets to take this stupid dress off.

she fumbles a little before grabbing hold of the zipper. she pulls, and it gives about an inch before abruptly stopping.

furrowing her eyebrows, azzi pinches the zipper harder between her fingertips. pull, give. stop.

“shit,” azzi murmurs. this time, when she tries again, it doesn’t give at all, just says firmly stuck in place.

she already knows pulling it over her head or down her hips is out of the question—the dress shrunk like two sizes in the water. no way this thing is making it over her hips or shoulders without some leeway. so now here she is, stranded in the middle of paige bueckers’ room with a soaking wet dress and a broken zipper.

she considers marching out of this place without another word, going to her own room, fighting briefly with chad over it, and then cutting the damn thing off. but then she’d have to walk, shoeless, through the entire ship. and confrontation still isn’t her thing.

sighing, azzi tucks away her pride and goes over to the door, peeking her head out. the girls are still in the kitchen. paige’s back is turned, but azzi can see kk, and she has an amused smile on her face as they speak in hushed whispers. paige sounds mad about something.

azzi clears her throat.

paige visibly tenses, and kk’s smile only grows as she slowly turns around, looking very much afraid.

“uh,” azzi says, unsure what to make of the whole ordeal. “my zipper is stuck. i need help.”

god, please let kk volunteer, please let kk volunteer, no seriously, please let—

“paige volunteers as tribute,” kk says, shoving paige forward.

paige chokes. “no i don’t!”

“least you can do after throwing up on her,” kk says.

“that’s not fair,” paige argues. azzi would beg to differ, but she’s keeping her mouth firmly shut in the hopes of avoiding a potentially very awkward situation.

kk raises an eyebrow. paige sighs. then, resolve washes over her features, and azzi lets out a disappointed breath. fuck.

“okay, fine. sure.” paige is grumbling, eyes downcast as she heads toward the bedroom, and azzi shoots kk a dirty look before closing the door behind the two of them.

paige stands in the middle of the room, playing nervously with her fingers. azzi lets them sit in the awkward silence for a few moments before realizing paige is waiting for further direction.

“uh, yeah,” azzi says, stepping up to her before turning around. she grabs once again at the zipper, pulling it to show paige how stuck it is. “it’s not budging.”

paige takes a step closer, and azzi’s entire body tenses at the proximity. she doesn’t dare look over her shoulder, but she can feel paige, the drunken warmth radiating off her body, and she can hear her breathing. it’s without warning that paige’s fingers come to fiddle with the zipper, her knuckles brushing between azzi’s shoulder blades, and her body thrums with…something.

she is not usually like this when somebody has a crush on her. but she’s fresh off a self-proclaimed breakup and maybe that’s what’s making her feel so inexplicably tense.

“yeah,” paige says after giving the zipper a few tugs. “it definitely looks broken.”

azzi doesn’t say anything. every time she thinks she’s hit rock bottom, something else gets thrown at her. first the pool, then the throw-up, then a broken zipper. and through it all, chad. none of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for him, azzi thinks bitterly.

“we can try getting it off without unzipping it,” paige suggests. azzi turns her head to the side, not enough to see paige behind her, but enough to try and gain some composure. because paige implying that they will both pull this dress off of her leaves her warm.

“i already tried,” azzi says instead of agreeing, which is something she weirdly wants to do. despite knowing the dress won’t come off if it’s zipped, she wouldn’t mind letting paige try. maybe letting her pull the straps down her shoulders, or even lift the skirt over her hips…

okay, azzi. snap the fuck out of it.

in an attempt to salvage the situation, azzi blurts, “scissors.”

paige chokes. azzi closes her eyes in a silent acceptance of defeat. the universe is definitely out for her.

“wha—?” paige starts, but azzi doesn’t let her finish before whirling around with a casual smile, “i meant, we might need to get scissors. like, to cut the dress off.”

“oh,” paige says, her mouth forming a little ‘O’ of understanding. “okay. yeah. uh, you sure you wanna cut it?”

the thought of trying to save this dress is almost laughable. it may have been expensive, but it was also a gift from the very same man who ruined it by pushing her into the pool. “yeah,” she says. “positive.”

paige makes a face at the dark tone of azzi’s voice, but luckily doesn’t question it. “oo-kay,” she drawls, turning to the nightstand and rummaging through one of the drawers.

“so, uh,” paige says as she searches, “how’d your dress get like that, anyway?”

soaked. she means soaked. “got pushed into the pool,” azzi says.

“oh, shoot.” paige glances over her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “by who?”

“my boyfriend,” azzi says, nearly shuddering at the words. then, pleasantly, she remembers he’s not her boyfriend anymore—even though he doesn’t know that yet. “well, my ex-boyfriend.”

“your boyfriend pushed you in the pool?” paige asks. she sounds a little outraged, and, upon finding the scissors, she spins around with them in hand.

“ex-boyfriend,” azzi corrects. “i mean, as of a few minutes ago.”

“well, shit.” paige walks back over to her. “fuck him.”

azzi’s first reaction is to get defensive—she’s spent two months month defending chad to all her friends—but she doesn’t have to do that anymore, so instead she nods decisively. “yeah, fuck him.”

it’s then that paige smiles—the first time azzi’s seen it tonight—and it’s this shy, timid smile, so different from the overconfident, giddy one she gets in games. it’s clear she’s horrible at hiding her little crush and usually that would ick azzi out, but on paige it’s almost…endearing?

and for some reason, butterflies flutter in her tummy at the sight of it.

“okay,” azzi says, turning around in an attempt to crush the moment. “go ahead.”

“should i just cut along the zipper?” paige asks. azzi nods, motioning back towards herself. “do your worst.”

“alright,” paige says, a hint of doubt in her voice. she starts cutting nonetheless. azzi feels nothing but satisfaction at the first snip—she’s glad to be rid of this thing. when she gets home, she’ll burn everything else that fuckass man gave her, too. paige is, in a way, doing god’s work by cutting it.

“so,” paige says as she works. “what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

azzi winces. “uh, chad.”

paige pauses her snipping. “for real?”

“yeah,” azzi says sheepishly, before once again saying, “and he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“right,” paige replies, tone thick with humor. “so, chad pushed you into the pool while you were wearing this nice dress. and then you broke up with him?”

“well…” azzi trails off—leave it to paige bueckers to make her feel dumb. “i mean, he disappeared on me afterwards, and then he didn’t respond to my texts until like ten minutes ago, so…”

“so he pushed you into the pool, acted crazy, and then you broke up with him.” paige says it like a statement, which makes azzi really hesitant to disclose the whole story.

“i mean, yeah,” she mutters.

paige picks up on the way the sentence lilts guiltily. “bruh.”

“i guess i haven’t actually broken up with him,” azzi is quick to say, paige’s judgmental gaze burning into the skin of her back. “but i did it in my head.”

“in your…” paige must think better of asking more questions, because she just sighs before pulling her hands away from azzi’s dress. “whatever, girl. i’m done.”

azzi turns to face her. “stop that.”

“stop what?”

“judging me.”

paige raises her eyebrows. “i’ll stop when you actually break up with him.”

it’s supposed to come as a joke, but for some reason, azzi takes it as a challenge. almost like she’d do anything for paige’s approval. which is stupid, because paige is clearly an unexpectedly dorky lesbian who just so happens to be hot and athletic.

(it won’t take long for azzi to realize she has a very specific taste in women.)

“fine,” azzi says. and then she, who has never been one to take life advice from virtual strangers, marches to the bed, grabs her phone, and navigates once again to chad’s contact. she tells herself it’s just so she’ll be able to sleep in their room tonight rather than avoiding him the rest of the trip. it’s not really true.

he answers on the fourth ring (typical). it’s nothing but a simple, “yo.” she hates him.

paige puts her hands on her hips, clearly a little surprised that azzi’s actually doing this, but daring her to see it through nonetheless. azzi switches to speakerphone. “chad,” she says, a little unsure of how to go about this. all of her previous breakups have been mutual, cordial. this…

oh, she hates him.

“wassup, baby.” he has the audacity to sound a little annoyed at being bothered, and azzi takes a deep breath to compose herself.

“chad, we gotta talk.”

there’s a long, dramatic sigh on the other end of the line. “is this about the pool? because if it’s about the pool it’s gotta wait ‘till tomorrow. i’m too tired for that shit.”

paige’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline, before furrowing in disbelief, her mouth dropping open a little.

azzi just nods.

“asshole,” paige mouths.

“actually,” azzi says, “i’m breaking up with you.”

silence. then, a bark of laughter. “yeah. aight.”

“i’m being serious.”

“whatever you say, azzi.” he sounds equal-parts amused, equal-parts irritated. “look, just come back up to the room before it gets too late. you know i’ll make it up to you.”

paige sticks her tongue out, pointing a finger into her mouth and gagging.

azzi rolls her eyes. “you wanna know something, chad?”

“what,” he says, barely interested anymore. (he has the attention span of a goldfish with adhd.)

“we’ve been together for how long?”

“uhh…” chad drawls.

“two months,” she informs him. “and in that amount of time, how many times have we fucked?”

“shit, i’on know,” he says, sounding a little more amused now, like he’s in for a treat. he has no idea.

“a lot, chad. and do you have any idea how many orgasms i’ve had in that amount of time?”

dead silence. she almost wonders if he’s hung up. paige is looking at her like she’s crazy, or maybe like she’s an angel descended from heaven itself. azzi focuses back on the phone. “zero. you have made me come literally zero times.”

another laugh, this time more awkward. “azzi, c’mon, bro—“

“so no, i would not like you to make it up to me tonight, or ever,” she continues, gaining a little momentum now. “your tiny-ass dick could never. and if you don’t get the fuck up outta that room so i can sleep tonight, then i’m—“

“hollup, you’re being serious?” chad interrupts.

“yes,” she says—he never did take her seriously. “so you need to find somewhere else to stay because—“

“hell nah,” chad interrupts once again, this time sounding straight-up affronted. “i’m not giving you the room just because you’re deciding to go batshit on me. you can have it when you come to your senses tomorrow, baby.”

rage seethes, hot and quiet, through azzi’s very marrow. she hates being condescended. hates being spoken down to. hates not being believed. she is going to tear his ass in two.

she glances up at paige. paige has now found a seat on the bed and is watching with wide eyes, looking like she needs a bag of popcorn. looking undeniably fine, somehow, even after throwing up on azzi and then proceeding to have the most awkwardly obvious crush on her. looking undeniably edible, to be completely frank.

and then—

oh, and then.

“fine,” azzi says, holding the speaker right up to her mouth so chad won’t miss a single word of what she’s about to say. “don’t give me the room. i got somebody else to stay with.”

“yeah? who?” chad asks. she can picture his stupid smile as he says it.

“paige,” azzi says, ignoring the quizzical look paige is sending her. “an old friend.”

“paige?” he says, clearly confused.

“yeah,” she continues. “and if you don’t give me that room back…” she avoids paige’s gaze for this part, or else she wouldn’t have the balls to do it, “then i’m gonna stay here. and i’m gonna get fucked by paige bueckers.”

there’s a sharp, nervous laugh. “you’re lying through your fucking teeth, azzi.”

“wanna find out?” azzi asks, hoping he doesn’t call her on her bluff.

“yeah, actually,” he says. “i’m using the room tonight. and let’s see if you’ve fucked paige bueckers by morning.”

with that, a click. the line is dead.

paige’s jaw is on the floor.

azzi squeezes her eyes shut.

okay, so azzi stands corrected. the night has, officially, gotten worse.

[vrystalius]

I HAVE A REQUEST

WHO WOULD LET ME BITE THEM TO CONFORT ME FROM OVERSTIMULATION

Yum!

Who would let you bite them in order to feel better? How willing would they be? (Human/Hashira version)

Includes: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Mitsuri, Genya

Sanemi Shinazugawa 8/10

Sanemi has a high pain tolerance but is not good at observing and understanding emotions. You’ll have to ask him to bite down onto his shoulder or hand and he’ll happily offer his hand. He’d curiously watch as you chomp down onto the side of his hand. If Sanemi feels like annoying it teasing you, he’d start pulling his hand away, playing some sort of pulling game like you would with a puppy. He’d grin slightly when he does that. You look kind of cute when biting him..

If you chomp down onto his shoulder, his body would shudder slightly. Arousal would pool in his stomach while letting you bite him. Sometimes, he wonders if he has some kind of thing for getting bitten.

But overall, Sanemi’d let you bite him whenever you please. Just warn him beforehand. You didn’t once and bit down onto his hand, making him flinch ans accidentally punch you in the face. He was both insulting and apologising to you over, over and over while trying to stop the bleeding.

“You’re weird, I haven’t showered yet. I gotta taste like shit.”

Kyojuro Rengoku 9/10

Kyojuro will try everything to help you feel better, and that includes letting you bite him as hard as you want. His fingers are a little chubbier, meaning they’re nice to chomp down on. It takes a second for him to notice your distress/discomfort, but after you ask Kyojuro if you can bite him he’d offer his arm to you in an instant. He would stare at you with wide eyes as you bite down onto his hand and pat your back as some kind of encouragement or attempt to make you feel better. Kyojuro knows that biting him may be soothing for you, so he sometimes offer you his hand even if you don’t ask for it. He just wants you to feel better.

Surprising him by biting down onto his shoulder or hand makes him feel worried for you rather than upset or surprised. Kyojuro is worried for why you acted so suddenly and if you are being okay. He would’ve pulled you a little closer, wrapping his arm around you and offer a soft smile.

“Oh, you seem downcast, my flame. Would you like a bite?”

Gyomei Himejima 6/10

You remind Gyomei of a kitten, the way you bite down onto his thick and large palm. He believes that there are different ways to solve your problems that include not biting him, but he doesn’t mind your urge to bite him. Sometimes, he’d pet your head in a comforting gesture or offer a hug, but only if you’d like.

He sometimes worries if his skin is too thick or tough for you to bite, and if your teeth are hurting.

Sometimes, Gyomei will offer you something else to bite down onto, like his red pearl bracelets. They’re hard and not nice to bite down onto, but for you, he handcrafted a bracelet with smaller beads that are nicer to chew onto. He may not be sure why exactly you want to bite his finger so badly, but he will let you anyway. It’s adorable to him.

“Are you sure you want to bite me? Would you like my ricebun instead?”

Mitsuri Kanroji 8/10

She finds it absolutely adorable! Mitsuri would worry about you feeling distressed/overstimulated and would immediately offer up her hand or arm to chomp onto once she has the slightest suspicion that you are feeling anything but content with something. Soon after discovering your biting habit, she might start to try out different types of lotions and find out wich one tastes the best for you. Mitsuri wants to make sure she tastes well for you! One time, you caught her thinking about applying a thin layer of honey onto her skin, but you managed to talk her out of it.

Mitsuri would sometimes ask if she can bite your hand, just to try out how it feels. She accidentally bit down too hard and gave you a bruise, so she never really asked you again.

“I just applied a new sakura lotion Shinobu gifted me! Wanna try it out? Here, bite me!”

Genya Shinazugawa 10/10

He doesn’t mind at all. Genya wants to make sure you feel good at all times, and if making you feel better may include biting his hand, arm, shoulder or whatever, then he’ll happily oblige. Genya is worried that he might be the reason that you feel bad or overstimulated, so he won’t offer his hand right away. He’d just hover around you silently, trying to give you silent comfort of sorts.

His fingers are a little thicker and calloused, so Genya won’t mind if you bite down harder. Besides, in case you draw blood, his demon blood will heal him almost instantly.

Also, sometimes, he himself gets the urge to bite something. He might feel overwhelmed or have too much energy left over, so sometimes Genya would gently take your arm and bite down onto your wrist. He tries to be gentle and to not leave any bruises, but sometimes he gets a little to distracted by the taste of your skin and might leave a bite mark or draw blood.

“O-Oh- Fuck, sorry- you’re bleeding! Oh, sorry, fuck! wait- let me grab some bandages. Agh, I’m so sorry!!”

💠

Genya my sweet baby 😭 I love him so much. But anyways, about that one dog video you tagged me in, I think that dog will solo Kokushibo any day. The Upper Moon demon has no chance against a stick wielding dog, that’s simply impossible!

Also, thank you so much for requesting! This was very fun! Sorry if I haven’t included many characters or the ones you wanted me to write about 😅

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[3amfanfiction]

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 of the badly kept secrets of Eddie's heart monitor

After the first two weeks, Steve seems to have suddenly decided to stop visiting Eddie. No explanation, no goodbye: one day he's there, and then he... Isn't. It takes a few days, sometimes, Steve has a life of his own after all, but a whole week goes by with nothing. And another one. Eddie only knows he's alive – and in town – because the others told him when he asked. Maybe Steve's gotten tired of being surrounded by all that hospital sterility. Or maybe he's gotten tired of being around Eddie. Or maybe... Eddie groans and takes up a stare-down with the fucking heart monitor that's still attached to him at all times, his biggest enemy.

Unfortunately, he has way too much time on his hands, alone in this room and unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It makes it far too easy to let his thoughts spiral. Maybe – no, probably, certainly, undoubtedly – that goddamn heart monitor was the ideal help for Steve to decipher Eddie's biggest secret without any difficulties.

Yes, that must be the reason why Steve is staying away. Sure, the guy could tolerate being around “the freak” for a few hours a week out of pity, but of course he wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore upon finding out exactly what kind of freaky thoughts he really has about Steve. Steve was polite enough to pretend like he didn't notice the heart monitor speeding up every single time he got in Eddie's proximity, but of course, of course he noticed. He noticed and now he hates Eddie.

And honestly? He has every right to hate Eddie, with the way Eddie has been exploiting every opportunity to get Steve to touch him. Even though he'd regret it right away whenever the heart monitor couldn't shut the fuck up, Eddie never learned from his mistakes. He was even stupid enough to find meaning in the way Steve's touch would linger after helping him lie down or sit up, stupid enough to find tenderness in the way Steve held his arms when helping him out of his bed and to the bathroom. Obviously, Steve never wanted any of that. Obviously, that only made Steve uncomfortable, but the poor guy was too polite to lash out to the dude chained to a hospital bed healing from having all his organs chewed inside out.

Eddie sighs and closes his eyes; not because he wants to sleep, but because the staring contest with the heart monitor isn't really getting him anywhere. Maybe it's for the best that Steve is staying away. That way, Eddie might be able to get over him more easily. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

***

“I wanna visit Eddie today.”

“Alright, have fun,” Steve answers. “Tell him I said hi.”

Robin sighs dramatically. “No, dingus, you're coming with me. I need a ride.”

“No!” It comes out of his mouth a little too quick, a little too loud, and Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, I can't,” he explains in a calmer voice.

Robin raises her eyebrows even further, making them disappear beneath her bangs altogether. “You literally just told me you don't have plans after work.”

“Yeah, but...” He lets his voice fade out and settles on muttering something incomprehensible.

“I did not understand one single word of what you were saying,” Robin points out. She sounds annoyed, but there's a vaguely amused smile playing around her lips, betraying how she really feels about the whole thing. “Seriously, what's up with you and Eddie? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No...”

“Until two weeks ago, you were at the hospital basically every spare minute of your time. You even canceled two dates just so you could spend more time with Eddie! And now, all of a sudden, you'd rather spend your evening on your own at home watching TV than visit your friend?”

“He's not my friend,” Steve protests.

She gives him a punch against his shoulder.

“Okay, I'm pretty sure he hates me, Rob.” Steve finally caves in. “He gets, like, very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. And I don't wanna add to his discomfort any more than necessary, so it's better I stay away from him.”

“Well, I don't know what on earth gave you that idea, but that is by far the biggest load of bullcrap I heard all week,” Robin says matter-of-factly. “He's asked about you every single time I visited him. He'll be happy to see you, dingus, you're coming with me today. No excuses.”

***

Like clockwork, the steady beeping of the heart monitor falters as soon as Eddie locks eyes with Steve. To make things even worse, what little color that is on Eddie's cheeks leaves his face immediately.

Despite the paleness of Eddie's face, Steve can't help but notice how good he looks in comparison to when he last saw him two weeks ago. He's sitting straight up, leaning against a pillow, and the look in his eyes is far from drowsy.

“S-Steve,” Eddie stutters out. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “And – and Robin, of course, hi! Good to see ya, Buck.” He stretches out his arms to embrace her, and Steve awkwardly comes up behind her. It feels weird not to follow Robin's example and give him a hug, but when he bows over the bed and wraps his arms around Eddie, the beeping immediately picks up speed again. To make things even worse, Eddie quite literally recoils from his touch, leaning away as far as possible and letting his arms hover in the air around Steve more than actually hugging him back.

When Steve looks at Robin, he notices that her eyes have grown about twice their normal size while they flash back and forth between Eddie, the machines around his bed, and Steve.

He locks eyes with her and tries to silently convey a See, I told you so about Eddie resenting him. She answers with a barely visible nod and relief fills Steve's chest. He's lucky to have Robin right by his side, his best friend, the one person he can always count on understanding him. She'll get them out of here in no time and leave Eddie in peace and –

“Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot I need to get a, um, a thing from the car,” Robin says. “I'll be right back.”

As she stumbles out of the room, Steve wants to scream at her that that was very much the opposite of what he wanted her to do, but she disappears before he can do anything about it, only leaving an awkward silence in her wake. So Steve has no choice but to turn back to Eddie and take his familiar place in the chair beside his bed.

“I kinda didn't expect to see you anymore.” Eddie is the one to break the silence. He sounds more distant than the last time Steve saw him. It must be worse than Steve thought: Eddie had been happy to be rid of him and now here he is again, after a meager two weeks of peace.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “She insisted I come with her.”

“So you didn't wanna come?”

Steve chuckles darkly at the irony in that question, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Alright, I'm just gonna say it,” says Eddie when it becomes clear that Steve doesn't quite know what to say. “You figured out what I – how I felt about you, didn't you? Cause of the heart thing.”

Steve looks away, stares intently at the ugly dark blue linoleum carpet under his feet.

“Yeah,” he quietly confesses. There's no use denying it now, he figures.

Eddie heaves out a long sigh.

“For what it's worth: I'm really sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to make you-”

“It's fine,” Steve quickly interrupts him. He doesn't think he could bear Eddie's pity right now. “Don't worry about it. I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, get outta your hair for a bit. I didn't want to make this any more painful for you than it has to be.”

“Really?”

The heart monitor stutters again and Eddie's voice sounds weirdly strained. Steve can't help but look up. He's met with big brown eyes that are looking at him like Eddie actually cares about him. For a moment, Steve imagines to see tears, but then Eddie blinks and the illusion is gone.

“I um... I appreciate that, man,” Eddie says.

Another awkward silence dawns over the room.

“Wait,” Eddie says after a few seconds. “So you're not angry?”

“No!” Steve immediately replies – and it's true. He understands why Eddie doesn't like being around him, that too much has happened in the past for them to just move on and hold hands or some shit.

“It's not your fault,” he tells Eddie. He looks away again, back to the floor in front of his sneakers. “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, right?”

Eddie huffs out a sound of disbelief. “Why, cause you're just too damn sexy, Harrington?”

Steve frowns. “Well, no, cause I was an asshole and I was mean to your friends during all of high school and it's stupid of me to expect you to just get over that shit and-”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

There's that stutter in the heart monitor again. It makes Steve wonder if he's putting Eddie's health at risk by simply existing next to him. Maybe it would be better to leave Eddie alone and wait in the car until Robin is done with her visit. What the hell is taking her so long anyway?

He keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the blue floor. “Isn't that why you got so uncomfortable having me around?” he points out. “Look, I get it, man. I was an asshole, it's true. And it was selfish of me to keep showing up here only because you were too polite to say to my face what you thought about me. I was only thinking about myself and about how much I liked being here with you, it wasn't fair.”

All of a sudden, the soft touch of a hand lands on his shoulder. He hates how that makes his own heart speed up. If he were the one attached to a heart monitor, Eddie would've seen right through him in an instant, that's for sure.

He looks up and meets Eddie's wide-eyed, somewhat shocked face.

“You - you thought you were making me uncomfortable?” Eddie asks him, sounding like he's completely gobsmacked.

Steve frowns. “Isn't that what we've been talking about for the past five minutes?”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “I am so sorry. I didn't – I never – Look. Listen.” He removes his hand from Steve's shoulder and roughly wipes it over his face. His heart monitor accelerates even further. “Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you, okay?” He doesn't wait for a reaction, only uses his pause to take a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and looking right into Steve's.

“I'm gay, Steve. And that evil computer over there-” He points towards the heart monitor, “-keeps betraying my big, fat, gay crush on you. Every time you walk in here, or read my book to me, or do so much as smile at me, I just – God, I'm such a goner for you and there was no hiding it because of that stupid fucking thing.”

This time, Steve is quite sure he is not at all imagining the tears in Eddie's eyes.

“I thought that's why you stopped visiting. Cause you figured out how gay I am – about you – and you didn't want anything to do with that. With me. Being gay. For you.”

Eddie swallows. He lifts a hand and pulls a strand of hair over his face in a poor attempt to hide the truly terrified expression that's all over his features.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes out. He can't even begin to comprehend how spectacularly wrong he has been about everything. It's almost like he's in shock. Only a minute ago, he thought Eddie despised him. And now, he has to process the revelation that the guy in fact has had a crush on him – a “big, fat, gay crush” – all along. That the reason his heart was behaving so weirdly was because Steve's proximity made him lovesick. That he recoiled from Steve's touches out of fear that the monitor would give him away and make Steve realize he was gay and in love with him.

“Please say something?” It sounds like a question, small and so afraid of what is about to come.

“Eddie, I – Jesus. This is... A lot. To process,” Steve manages to choke out.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I'm sorry I made you think I hated you. But... Please don't hate me. I really missed you visiting. We can be friends, right? You won't even have to touch me ever again, we can just hang out like bros, and I'll try to get my feelings for you under control, and you can-”

Steve finally gains control over his body again: he leaps forward and presses his lips against Eddie's with slightly more force than he had meant to do.

A surprised yelp escapes from Eddie's mouth, and the beeping of the heart monitor goes even crazier. It makes Steve's own heart do a goddamn cartwheel, that audible proof of what he is making Eddie feel.

He completely understands why the heart monitor is going batshit crazy right now; everything about this is fucking amazing. One of his hands finds its way to Eddie's surprisingly soft hair, and he revels in the feeling of touching Eddie again and in the taste of Eddie's lips against his own, and maybe he should just climb into Eddie's bed to–

“Thank God for that.”

They quickly jump apart to find Robin standing in the doorway, an annoyingly smug grin on her face.

“You two could really not be more stupid if you tried, huh?”

Steve squints at her while his hand blindly finds Eddie's on top of the sheets and curls itself around it. He feels his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore, except for Eddie's hand warmly resting in his own.

“Did you even need anything from the car at all?” he asks Robin, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, of course not,” Robin scoffs. “Just needed you idiots to finally get your shit together. I don't think I've ever met anyone more dense than the two of you, seriously! There were at least three moments when I almost barged in here to just smash your faces tog-”

“You were eavesdropping on us?!”

“Obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth, indignant and ready to tell her exactly how mean and evil she is, but she merely raises a hand and the look in her eyes is terrifying enough to shut him up before he has even started speaking.

“Hey, listen,” she says. Something in her face softens. “I'm really happy for you guys. Seriously, no matter how stupid you are, you two deserve every bit of happiness in the world.” She takes a step backwards towards the door. “I'll go wait in the car, dingus. Go kiss each other some more.”

And before Steve or Eddie can say anything, she winks and closes the door behind her.

Taglist: @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @saramelaniemoon @lololol-1234 @carlajim98 @7-starboi @acedorerryn @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @zoeweee @resident-gay-bitch @my2amgaythoughts @didntwant2come @steveshairspray @noodle-shenaniganery @thedragonsaunt @finntheehumaneater @queerriotgrrrl @co5m0 @dino-nuggets-posts

[soopcak3]

I just came for the drugs.

Thanos(Choi Su-bong) x reader/smut🔥

Summary: Y/N hears about a party going on at the club for a rapper known as Thanos. She’s heard of him before and only intends on going for the drugs she knows will be there.

Warnings: smut obvi, squirting, drugs, clubbing(?), drinking

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Y/F/N, squealed. “There’s a party going on at the club celebrating Thanos’ new album drop! We should totally go!!” Y/N sighed, somewhat annoyed. She can guess what kinda guy he is purely based on his music and she didn’t like the vibe much.

“Why? It’s not like anything actually interesting is going to happen. Just a bunch of shitty guys getting drunk and harassing women.. same old, same old…” Y/N griped.

“Cmon Y/N.. there’s gonna be party drugs~” Y/F/N smirked, knowing that would get Y/N ready. Y/N shot up from her seat on the couch and went to get ready.

They arrived at the club an hour later and as the bouncer let them in, Y/N say Thanos at the bar with a bunch of girls on his arms. “Another drink, huh Senorita?~” He smirked.

Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed before sitting at the other side of the bar. “Extra dirty martini…” she said to the bartender. Once her drink was done she immediately took 3 big sips, hoping to get absolutely HAMMERED tonight.

Thanos spotted her from the other side of the bar, “huh… a dirty martini for a presumably dirty girl~” he smiled, “I haven’t seen you at my parties before… you come by often?” Thanos asked.

Y/N scoffed and ignored him, which only drew him in more. He approached the other side of the bar and sad next to her. “What’s wrong senorita? You don’t seem to be having fun?” Thanos asked.

She rolled her eyes, “look I only came here to get high, okay? So buzz off…” That made him smile, “well why didn’t you say anything princes?” Thanos opened his cross necklace. “I’ve got shit right here baby.”

Y/N let out a confused sigh, “it’s clean?” He nodded, popping one of them into his mouth and chewing it. “Of course senorita~”

She sighed regretfully and popped the pill he handed her. Soon enough, she started to feel amazing, everything around her felt like a good dream and she could tell he was feeling the same. Y/N looked a up at him, had he always looked this good?

She reached out and wrapped her hands around his neck, “I’m feeling… impulsive tonight. Wanna do something crazy?~” Y/N asked with a smirk. Thanos smiled, “of course baby…~” he said, kissing her hand.

He walked up the stairs and led her to his private club room. Immediately pining her to a wall and aggressively making out with her. Y/N whimpered into the kisses, tugging his hair and causing him to moan.

Thanos slipped his shirt off and slid his hands up her shirt and under her bra, fondling her erect nipples. “Mmm… so soft, such a good girl…” he cooed. “Mmph… I never thought I’d say this but FUCK I want you so bad right now…” Y/N whined.

He smirked and slipped her shift off and unclipped her bra. He then slid her shorts down before licking her through her panties. “You’re soaked through baby… did you want me THAT badly?~” Y/N whined breathlessly, “shut the fuck up…”

Thanos smirked and slipped off her panties, revealing her soaked pussy. He ran two fingers through the slit between her legs, gathering slick, “so fucking wet senorita… you sure you only want me for the pills?~”

Y/N whined and bucked her hips against his hand, “y-yes…!! Just shut up and fuck me!” She shouted. Thanos smirked at her desperation, pulling down his pants and his boxers, freeing his hard length.

“You really want this princess?” He asked, his voice more gentle, as he ran his shaft through her folds. “Mmm… yesss…~” she whimpered.

Thanks laughed, “pathetic…” as he rammed into her, giving her no time to adjust.

“Oh fuck!! Too hard!!” Y/N cried out in pleasure and pain. “You can take it, can’t you sweetie? You can take my cock right? Take it like a good girl…” Thanos said while railing into her at crazy speeds.

She grabbed the back of his head and moaned into his mouth as they made out roughly. Y/N tugged his hair harshly causing him to groan gruffly. “Mmph… you dirty slut… such a good little slut…” he said as the kiss prolonged. “”You feel so good sweetheart… gonna make me cum baby…”. Thanos’ voice got higher as he climbed closer and closer to his peak.

Y/N tugged at his hair again instinctively as he railed ever deeper into her soaked pussy, causing him to go even harder. “Mmph! Gonna cum all over you sweetie… or do you want me to fill you up?~” Thanos groaned. “Sh-shut up… I don’t care just make me cum…!!” She whined.

He smirked as he reached his peak, painting her gooey walls white with his cum. “Ohhh fuck babe…” Y/N cried out as she squirted all over his cock. “Good girl… did so good f’me…”

[f4ggydog]

I want Lottie feeding me so bad :(((, she would be so soft and protective, god, need her

im gonna assume the type of feeding you meant was the food type so im gonna write that!

you always struggled with dinner compared to the others. you’d think that surviving out in the wilderness long enough would keep you grateful for any food source you could come by. but your taste buds and food sensitivity always had other plans.

you weren’t starving yourself. you did what you had to do. but that doesn’t mean you were happy with it and that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle to force food down your gullet.

what was it gonna be this time? quick consumption of dinner or taking a whole day to complete your meal? however, as you contemplate, someone walks over to you.

it’s lottie, arguably the member of the camp who’s been the compassionate towards you. she didn’t have much competition with most of the others to be honest.

lottie kneels down and puts her hand on your shoulder. she looks into your eyes. her gaze is intense but not off putting. you inch closer to her, still gripping your plate of meat.

“i’ve watched you struggle with dinner,” lottie recalls. “you are always the last one to finish, compared to everyone else.”

“yeah…” you nod, slightly embarrassed. “i know it’s stupid. i wish i was normal about food. ugh…”

“no need to shame yourself,” lottie soothes. “i just figured i could help you out, considering you’re not the best with taking care of yourself currently.”

you arch your eyebrow and lottie winces.

“sorry, didn’t mean that badly. i meant…i just wanna help, okay? can you let me help you?”

“help me with what?” you shrug, glancing around the forest.

“with eating,” lottie encourages. “it might sound simple, maybe a little stupid. but i think if i were to assist you, maybe you wouldn’t struggle with eating as much. maybe you just need…someone by your side.”

the idea didn’t sound too ridiculous to you. you needed any help you could get. so you go along with lottie’s idea. lottie carefully grabs a slab of meat from your plate and lifts it towards your lips.

“you can do it. just chew and don’t think about it too much.”

you slowly open your mouth.

“try not to pay attention to the textures or flavor. just…be happy that it’s food. food that isn’t easy to come across out here, food that you’re lucky to have.”

as crazy as it sounds, it’s somehow working. when lottie drops a piece of meat into your mouth, it’s a lot easier to chew and swallow when she’s looking you in the eyes, praising you for doing what she says.

“that’s it,” lottie coos. “very good. see, I told you you could do it. you don’t have to be afraid. just…don’t think much of it and eat.”

you nod, readying yourself for another bite.

[just1cefor4ll]

— You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. swearing, not proof read, might be OOC

part six || part seven || part eight

A/N. okay ngl this chapter is so shitty but i have serious writers block so i guess this will have to do :P

‘Your beauty is so vain

It drives me, yes, it drives me

absolutely insane.’

You stared at the ceiling, thinking about none other then Viktor. Who else would you be thinking about anyway? He’s been all over your mind for the past month so it’s no surprise he’s still lingering there even in this moment.

You were hanging out at Ekko’s dorm, asking for advice though he wasn’t of much help.

“Oh my fucking god Ekko you’re literally not helping at all.” You groan, putting a hand on your forehead. You sit up, sitting cross legged with Ekko barely paying attention to your paranoid self anymore. “How did you make the first move on Powder?” You ask desperately trying to get any useful advice out of him.

“Alright, listen," Ekko sighed, finally setting his phone down to give you his full attention. "First of all, you’re overthinking this way too much. Second—why are you even stressing? It’s Viktor."

You groaned, flopping back onto his bed dramatically. "That is exactly the problem, Ekko. It’s Viktor. He’s, like.. I don’t know.. him?And I don’t wanna screw this up."

Ekko rolled his eyes. "You’re acting like he’s some impossible riddle to solve."

"He kinda is!" You sat up again, running a hand through your hair. "He’s smart as hell, he overanalyzes everything, and he probably thinks I’m just being friendly whenever I try to flirt."

Ekko snorted. "You are just friendly. You’re terrible at flirting."

"Wow, thanks."

"Just saying," he shrugged. "If you actually wanna make a move, you gotta make it clear. No weird mixed signals. When I made the first move on Powder, I didn’t hesitate. I knew what I wanted, and I went for it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? And what did you do, Romeo?"

Ekko grinned, leaning back against the wall. "I told her straight-up that I liked her and then kissed her before she could overthink it."

Your eyes widened. "You what?"

"Yeah. No games, no confusion. Just straight to the point."

You stared at him like he had just grown a second head. "That’s insane. I can’t do that."

Ekko sighed dramatically. "Well then, I dunno what to tell you Y/N. If you wanna make a move, you either do it or you don’t. Simple as that."

You chewed on your lip, processing his words. "Okay. Maybe not that bold, but.. I get what you’re saying." “Good." Ekko picked his phone back up. "Now, if you’re done panicking, I’d like to get back to my very important business."

You peeked at his screen—he was watching cat videos.

With a sigh, you stood up. "Fine, fine. I’ll figure it out. But if this goes badly, I’m blaming you." "Yeah, yeah," he waved you off. "Just don’t overthink it. You got this."

You weren’t sure if you believed that yet, but still, you left his dorm with a little more determination than before.

You entered your dorm, opening your phone to text Viktor but it looks like he had thought a bit farther ahead then you had, because right there on your screen was a notification from none other then Viktor.

——————————————————————————

[vik.tor222] Are you free tonight?

[truly.y/n] oh? since when do u make plans?

[vik.tor222] Since I decided to make your night more interesting.

[truly.y/n] bold assumption that you being here is interesting

[vik.tor222] Admit it, you’d be devastated if I didn’t show up.

[truly.y/n] you’re delusional

[vik.tor222] Yet here you are, still replying instantly.

You frowned at your screen. He was getting cocky.

[truly.y/n] hm, what’s the occasion anyway? you bored or just wanna hang out?

[vik.tor222] or maybe i just want to see my favorite rockstar?

You huffed, but your stomach did a little flip.

[truly.y.n] whatever. maybe I don’t want to see you tonight

[vik.tor222] Lying doesn’t suit you, rockstar.

You bit your lip, ignoring the way your face warmed.

[truly.y/n] fine, pow is leaving around 8pm, i was just about to play my guitar so if you’re lucky you might get a free live performance >;D

[vik.tor222] Can’t wait.

——————————————————————————

You rolled your eyes, smiling like an idiot as you set your phone down.

When Viktor arrived, you were already playing your guitar, fingers idly plucking at the strings as you sat cross legged on your bed.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that small, amused smirk of his. "You were serious about the live performance." "Always," you grinned, patting the space beside you. "Come in, take a seat. I promise not to charge you."

Viktor chuckled as he made his way over, sitting beside you on the bed. His cane rested against the nightstand as he settled in, tilting his head slightly as he listened to you play.

"You’re really good," he murmured after a moment.

You shot him a teasing look. "I have a band, Vik. Would be awkward if I sucked." Viktor huffed a laugh. "True. But still—you are impressive." Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. "..Thanks."

A comfortable silence followed as you continued to strum softly, just playing whatever came to mind. After a while, you set the guitar down and leaned back on your hands, glancing over at him

“So.. anything new in the lab?” You asked, keeping your voice light. Viktor hummed in thought. "Not really. Other then Jayce almost setting the lab on fire again." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. You stiffle a laugh, gasping dramatically; “No way!” You say in mock surprise. “Yes.” Viktor shook his head. “I keep telling him, just because something looks stable does not mean it is stable.”

“Classic Jayce.”

“Unfortunately.”

"Why engineering and physics?" you ask suddenly, catching Viktor off guard.

"Hm?" he replies, raising an eyebrow.

You laugh awkwardly, fiddling with your guitar. "I mean, why those majors? Is there a cool backstory, or is it just something you're good at?"

Viktor thinks for a moment before answering. "I've always been fascinated by how things work—like putting together a puzzle. The more I learned, the more I wanted to create things that could change how people live."

You nod. "That makes sense.”

He tilts his head. "What about you? Art, right?"

"Yeah, for me, it's the opposite," you say, smiling. "Art is about creating things that don't necessarily make sense but still feel right."

Viktor considers this, then shrugs. "That sounds freeing." You laugh. "It is, but it’s also a challenge to make it come together. Just like your work, I guess." He nods slowly, a faint smile on his lips. "I get that."

You both fell into easy conversation after that, talking about random things—your band, his research, upcoming gigs, the ridiculous amount of people who had started messaging you online asking for new music.

Eventually, though, you both got tired of talking and decided to put on a movie.

Halfway through, you started to get really comfortable, shifting closer to Viktor. Without thinking too much about it, you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder. Viktor didn’t react at first—just a small, sharp inhale before he relaxed under you. Encouraged, you moved a little closer.

Then, in a move that surprised you, Viktor gently pulled you towards him, adjusting you so that you were practically lying against his chest.

Your heart stopped.

You hesitated for a moment before settling against him completely, your cheek resting over his heartbeat. His arm stayed around you, fingers lightly tracing up and down your back.

"You good?" you murmured, peeking up at him.

Viktor exhaled, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hm? Yeah.. m’fine.”

Neither of you moved after that. The movie continued playing in the background, but it barely mattered. The warmth of Viktor’s body, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest—it was all so.. peaceful.

At some point, your eyes grew heavy, and before you knew it, sleep was tugging you under.

Viktor didn’t say anything when you finally drifted off, but he did let his fingers brush lightly over your arm, holding you just a little closer.

It wasn’t a confession. Not yet.

But it was something. And for now, that was more than enough.

Viktor woke up slowly, warmth pressing into his side, a weight draped over him.

It took a moment for the fog of sleep to clear, for him to register the steady rise and fall of your breathing, your head still tucked against his shoulder, arm loosely curled around him.

His chest tightened.

Carefully, he turned his head, just enough to see your face—eyes shut, lips slightly parted, hair falling messily against his shirt. Peaceful. Unaware of the way you had completely undone him.

His fingers twitched at his side.

He should move. He should.

But for a few more moments, he let himself stay.

How had he let this happen?

How had you managed to slip so effortlessly into his life, into his mind, until the thought of not having you there seemed impossible?

He swallowed.

He needed to tell you.

The thought alone made his pulse quicken, but—God, he couldn’t keep pretending. Not when you were right there, curled against him, like you belonged there.

The door swung open.

Viktor tensed, head snapping toward the entrance just in time to see Powder step inside.

She stopped short.

Eyebrows shot up.

Then, a slow, shit-eating grin.

“Well, well, well.”

Viktor exhaled sharply, already bracing himself.

“This is new,” Powder mused, crossing her arms. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, lover boy.” Viktor frowned, carefully shifting Y/N’s arm off of him before sitting up. “It was not planned.” Powder’s grin only widened. “Sure it wasn’t.” He shot her a look before grabbing his cane and standing. Powder tilted her head. “So. You gonna tell her?” Viktor’s grip tightened slightly. “..I intend to.” Powder hummed, rocking back on her heels. “Good. ‘Cause I really don’t wanna watch you two keep dancing around each other.” Viktor shook his head, amused despite himself. “Yes, I am aware.”

Powder smirked, stepping aside as he made his way to the door. “Lover boy,” she called after him, just loud enough to make sure he heard it.

He didn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting.

He made his way towards his dorm, his mind full— full of you. This wasn’t new. He had spent too much time thinking about you, about what he felt, about what it meant. But now, after tonight, it wasn’t just in his head. It was real.

His fingers brushed over his phone, hesitating.

It was absurd, really, how fast it had all happened. How easily you had slipped into his life, uninvited, without him even realizing what was happening.

The first time he had ever seen you was at The Last Drop. He can’t imagine how differently his life could’ve went if he hadn’t agreed to Jayce’s constant begging and pestering about him going out and leaving studying behind for just a day.

He didn’t like the idea of being there, not for a bit at least— but then you came up onto that stage and he forgot how to think.

You had been something else entirely. The warm lights caught the curve of your smile perfectly— the easy confidence in the way you moved, the way you just carried yourself was so alluring, he couldn’t resist succumbing to your charm.

He hadn’t been the only one captivated.

That night, they had all been introduced to you. He knew of your existence before then, but that night he got to know you better— the musician, the artist, the lightning storm in human form.

He couldn’t wait to hang out with you again— not sure if that would even happen, but then Vi burst into the room with a text from her sister, that they’d be going to a café that week and that his group was invited. And there you had told him—offhand, casual—how it was your dream venue. How you had always wanted to play there.

And that gave him an idea.

Why had he even done it in the first place? The call? Setting up the entire gig? He wasn’t sure, but something deep inside him told him to do it—and so he did. In his mind, you deserved it. And when he saw the excitement in your eyes? His heart had felt like fireworks bursting on the Fourth of July.

And then—

The cheek kiss.

So quick, so effortless, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was when he knew. That was when he realized he was screwed.

And now— Now, he had to do something about it.

The whole damn friend group had been pestering him for weeks. Jayce, Ekko, Isha, Powder—all of them, telling him to stop being an idiot, to tell you.

Viktor exhaled, gripping his phone.

It was late.

Too late for this.

But his hands moved before he could stop himself.

——————————————————————————

[vik.tor222] I like you Y/N

[vik.tor222] like a lot

[vik.tor222] god you’re literally all i can think about you make me insane

[vik.tor222] i love you, rockstar.

——————————————————————————

He set his phone down as soon as he typed the last message, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes. What if you rejected him? What if you laughed in his face, or worse, ignored him completely? What if—

His phone buzzed.

And his mind went blank.

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

taglist: @erica2024 @lolixsstuff @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @astarionapologist @th3stup1dcat @fiveperrcent @fadedpinkpen @noxturnalmoth

[thursdayinspace]

Unexpected day off means writing longer smut! I'm really enjoying writing these little things right now.

She knows he isn’t even aware that he’s doing it, he’s so completely oblivious to the effect he has on other people sometimes. She’d been good—or mostly successful—tuning it out before they started sleeping together, but now, watching him like this just reminds her of all the wonderful things he can do with that mouth of his. And she has no idea what prompts it, but some days, he just won’t stop doing the most infuriating things with it when there’s nothing she can do but watch. It’s bad today.

He must have gone through half a bag of sunflower seeds by now, lips and teeth and tongue working on them absentmindedly as he reads through reports. He puts things in his mouth to hold them while his hands are busy—pens, paper clips, the fucking coffee stirrer…which he then just keeps there to chew on it. He bites his full bottom lip, runs his fingers over it as he carefully studies a picture in a file, and she’s going crazy. He won’t stop. He just won’t stop. He just keeps going. In their office, in the car, at a fucking crime scene they’re investigating, in a meeting with five cops, Skinner, Kersh, and several other people whose names she didn’t get because she can’t think straight.

She’s sitting at the conference table clenching her thighs together, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. Her underwear is soaked and still she can’t stop looking at him, throwing sideways glances at him in the chair next to her. He’s chewing a hangnail on his index finger, his tongue flicking out occasionally to soothe the spot, and she considers excusing herself and finding the nearest bathroom or closet or any empty room to take care of herself. It would take no time at all; she feels like she’s been on the brink of orgasm for hours and it’s not going away.

When they finally, finally finish for the day, she doesn’t even spare anyone a single glance, doesn’t say anything, just speedwalks straight to the elevator to get down to the basement. Their tiny bathroom down there is her best chance of not being caught. Mulder will hopefully stay upstairs, talking over details of the case with…whoever all these people are. God. She needs to come so she can finally form a single clear thought in her head.

Unfortunately, Mulder seems to have no intention of hanging out with anyone up here, instead comes running after her, catching the elevator door with his arm at the last moment, joining her in the small metal box where she can’t get away from him.

“Scully,” he says, a little out of breath. “Are you okay?” He sounds so concerned and she wants to groan in frustration. She manages a deep breath instead and nods, keeping her eyes straight ahead, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m fine.”

He puts a hand gently on her shoulder and she can’t stop herself from shivering under his touch. “You were fidgeting in your seat all through the meeting and you didn’t say a word. If you’re not feeling well…” He touches the back of his hand to her forehead as if he’s checking her for a fever and she closes her eyes, breathes through the fresh spike of arousal. “You are a little hot,” he says. “And your face is flushed. Look, I can handle this, if you wanna go home—”

“I’m fine,” she snaps and wants to cry. She needs to get off so badly, and now here he is, standing so close to her she can feel his body heat, and he smells so good, and she can’t remember ever being this turned on in her life. All because of his stupid mouth that, right now, just won’t stand still.

“You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately. It’s really no big deal, I’ll tell Skinner that you’re—”

“Shut up,” she growls at him, and the last thread holding her together finally snaps. She spins around and shoves him up against the elevator wall before grabbing his head in both hands to pull him down into a fierce, hungry kiss, moaning as she manages to get his thigh between her legs. The sudden pressure against her aching clit feels amazing and she pants against his lips as she rocks into him. She feels lightheaded with relief.

“Scully,” he says, surprised, but then his hands are on her ass, pulling her tighter against him.

“Your mouth,” she groans. “All, fucking day, god, Mulder, do you know what you’re doing to me?”

He needs no time at all to catch on, and his teeth grazing her neck is almost enough to push her over the edge. But the elevator stops with a slight jolt, the doors sliding open, and she doesn’t protest as he lifts her up by the backs of her thighs. She wraps her legs around him, lets him carry her down the short hallway to their office, the promise of release pushing her arousal to new heights.

“I didn’t know,” he says right into her ear, voice low and full of something that makes her shiver.

“Would you have stopped if you did?”

He sets her down on the edge of the desk, and his eyes are dark, the bulge at the front of his pants unmistakable. “Probably not,” he admits, and sinks to his knees.

She can’t stop looking at him, her heart speeding up at the look on his face as he works her out of his skirt. There’s something dangerous in his expression and she wants him, she wants him. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t speak as he rips her pantyhose, pushes her underwear aside, and buries his face between her legs.

Her head falls back and she cries out, hoping nobody followed them down here, but honestly, she wouldn’t care, would beg him to keep going, even if the whole crowd from that meeting were watching. Shit, she’d let him fuck her on that conference table in front of everyone right now.

He swipes his tongue through her folds and moans. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, and she wants to answer, wants to tell him it’s all for him, but he sucks her clit into his mouth and she forgets how language works. Her legs are hooked over his shoulder, his hands holding onto her thighs, and he’s eating her out like his life depends on it. She thinks her life might actually depend on it.

The ferocity of her need is unbearable, every cell in her straining, burning, her mouth open in a voiceless scream as she feels her body reaching it’s breaking point. Her orgasm rips through her violent and fierce, a ruthless current of electricity that shatters her into a million pieces.

He rises to his feet and she vaguely registers him unzipping his pants and shoving them down his legs. He’s so big, she thinks, so hard it looks painful. She does her best to wiggle out of her panties as he pulls them down her legs and off. She can’t do anything but let him take what he needs, and she’s wrecked, boneless, helpless as he steps in between her legs and finds her opening. He thrusts in hard enough to lift her off the surface of the desk. And she wants him, she still wants him, aftershocks rippling through her, and they’re not done, not yet.

He picks her up, carries her over to the wall with his cock deep inside her, and she clings onto him as he starts fucking her with a feverish urgency that leaves her breathless. God, she loves it when he needs her, loves it so much she’s not surprised when she feels a second orgasm building inside her. She clenches hard around him as he pushes in with amazing force again and again, her back arching off the wall as she comes a second time. He keeps going, teeth sinking into her shoulder as his moans rise in volume, and she’s on the verge of discomfort when he slams into her one final time and stills, his moan deep and broken, his fingers digging into her thighs hard enough she knows there will be bruises.

They sink to the floor together and she curls into him as he pulls her close. “Did that help?” he asks, and she laughs, her voice hoarse and tired.

“It helped. For now. Thank you.”

“Hey,” he says. “Anytime. By the way…” He kisses her hair and rests his cheek on the top of her head. “You can just ask next time. You know, instead of zoning out on an entire meeting.”

“Yeah,” she says, “you may have to catch me up on what we were actually talking about up there.”

“In a minute,” he promises, and she’s fine with that.

[encachette]

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒚… ch. 2

ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴛᴇɴᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛʀᴜᴄᴇ!

Ch. 1 here

❣ Dick Grayson x F!reader

❣ cowboy bebop au; neo-noir space western crackfic, loosely follows the plotline of the anime; animal(s) with human-engineered intelligence; science fiction ❣ cw: angst, romantic and existential; begrudging friends to lovers; eventual smut; graphic depictions and themes of violence; mentions of death; nightmares, cop corruption; stress crying ❣ MDNI ❣ Word Count:  6.5 k ❣ Ch. 2 Summary: Dick and Jason welcome pick up meet a mysterious girl who knows more than she lets on, with a connection to their father. As they make room for each other on the Bebop spacecraft, Dick tries to make the best of a mess you’ve dragged him into, despite Jason’s disapproval. You desperately need a goddamn nap and some food. As for Haley, the grey dog with three legs... she just hopes that you’ll buy her some of the name-brand dog food for her next meal.

❣ Author’s Note(s): 

→ [Spike Spiegel, I see you in everyone I’ve ever loved.] → This chapter is more personal than I wanted it to be, but I am too tired to edit. Maybe it’s more dialogue heavy than I’d like it to be but hey, I’ve never written a plot this complex before.  → Mysteries abound! What the hell is everyone hiding? And who’s going to betray who? How badly does Dick wanna fuck you? Stay tuned to find out, babes!

Chapter 2: an untenable truce

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ･｡

　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　    ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶   ✦　　

.⋆⭒˚.⋆☾ .🪐˖☽⋆⭒˚.⋆

One foot in front of the other, you chant to yourself. You’ll be there soon. The light is just in the distance, there has to be shelter over the next hill. You keep forcing yourself forward, but it was as if your arms and legs were stuck in a thick sludge. Time felt like a dense, gelatinous ooze and the more you tried to pump your legs, the farther the light seemed to drift. You don’t know where you are, but you know that the darkness around you is expansive, only more so the longer you try to run toward the light. Keep running. No matter how long you ran, you never got tired, the threat of darkness seemingly fueling your determination to keep moving.

.⋆⭒˚.⋆☾ aboard the Bebop, somewhere in the Solar System˖☽⋆⭒˚.⋆

Two brothers sat idly on a scratchy sofa, face aglow by the television’s blue light. The obnoxious clang of  a cowbell ricochets off of the titanium spaceship, intermittently punctuated by static; no guarantee of service when you’re near the asteroid belt.

“Stop chewing on the cable, Haley,” whistles the shorter, leaner brother, snapping his fingers to call attention to a three-legged, pitiable creature. He lounges back in an insufficiently sized loveseat, eyes scanning the screen with a lit cigarette hanging in the balance, right between his lips. Occasionally, he sneaks a glance over the coffee table to see his brother, larger and bulkier and reclined in what was usually his own sofa of choice. Streaks of hair, tussled vivid white under the harsh fluorescents framed a rugged face, mouth set in a firm line as he focused on the screen, sulking about their predicament chained up in his lab.

Judy, the buxom blonde of Big Shot (For the Bounty Hunters) stood clad in plaid, lewd squeals grating against the eardrums. The grey dog whines and hides its snout under its remaining front paw, canine distress now joining the cacophony. On the TV, Judy is unceremoniously pushed aside by her gratuitously violent costar, voluptuous curves rippling in the wind, barely contained by minimal clothing. Punch starts rattling off active bounties, mug shots scrolling through the screen as he shoots off his pistol, aimless.

“All 300,000 bounty hunters in the star system and not a single one o’ ya coffee-boilers has caught our mighty fine dame of the ‘our…”

When the mugshot wrap ends on a glowering face framed by ginger hair, the younger brother starts muttering under his breath.

“Coulda had her.” 

Irritation floods the man on the loveseat, and he takes a slow inhale. He slams his thumb on the remote control’s power off button, and the Bebop living room is plunged into darkness, lit only by the flaming end of a cigarette. 

.⋆⭒˚.⋆☾ .🪐˖☽⋆⭒˚.⋆

Waves of pounding pressure in your skull. That was the first thing you were aware of when you came to, mouth desert dry and muscles aching with a frozen soreness. Goosebumps rupturing on your skin alerted you to the frigidness shaking your bones. Fighting against your eyelids, crusted shut by the most unrestful sleep, the blur in front of your eyes slowly focuses under the glow of a lamp somewhere in the corner of the room. A weight on your ankle is the second, coherent thing you noticed; a cuff chained to the steel bed frame, igniting a spark of fear. Somber tension reverberated throughout the halls, eeriness bounding off of the metal walls.

Sitting up way too fast, a dizzy rush unsettling your head, you whip your eyes down, making sure that all of your appendages were intact, that you were clothed in the garments you put on this morning — Was it even this morning? How long have I been out? Your spine skitters under your skin, and you taste the bitterness of unfamiliarity. 

Or was it bile? Where the fuck am I?

Panic creeps up alongside every thump of your heart, fighting to overtake reason even though you do everything in your power to focus — assessing your surroundings, reflexively locating an escape route, something to break the shackle. Your gun! You look around the room, seeing your keys and jacket laid out neatly on the solid steel table in the middle of the room. The most important three items, though, were missing. No gun, no rolls of film in sight, no wallet. Bile makes its way up your esophagus as hyperventilation threatens to overwhelm you. You look at the cold metal table, bright medical lights blaring down on it from above. A few tools were lined on a tray next to your belongings: you spy a scalpel and surgical tongs. Fuck. The bile is clawing its way out now. You couldn’t reach any weapons. 

Stupidly, you yank at the chain a few times with all your might. Skin straining against the thick metal of your shackles, your rigorous yanking only leaves you groaning, an anklet of bruises that were sure to cause you hell when you got out of here. If you got out of here. Maybe if you could pull on the chain with your arms? Was the bed frame attached with nails or was it welded? Fuck. You felt the tears sting your skin as they escaped, a desperate sob along with them.

Water, you needed water. You couldn’t scream yet. Your eyes dart around the room, up the walls, tracing the ceilings. There was only one entrance, and maybe a vent behind that industrial shelf? You could crawl through it, probably… There was no way out, though, if you couldn’t get that fucking shackle off of your ankle.

There was a nightstand next to you, with a reading lamp, a cup of water, and some painkillers. Outside your room, you could hear the sniffling of a dog, its snout making whiny little sounds as the sound of blunt nails scratching metal mixes with the general discomfort of the entire situation.

You’d have to face it.

So you scream, every last bit of energy you have left in you put into a brokenly vicious, bloodcurdling scream.

☄. *. ⋆

“This is your fault, Richard,” Jason growls at his older brother, “I am not the one who deviated from the plan and brought some stranger along. A stranger who has a gun and enough contraband to send us to Pluto.” The steam from Jason’s ears was palpable, almost reminding Dick of their father when he was seething but trying to keep a lid on his temper. He keeps his hands busy, cleaning both Dick’s and his guns with practiced precision and muttering under his breath, “Fucking PLUTO, Richard.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Dick attempts to assuage his brother, “I’m sorry, but what was I supposed to do? Leave her there? We don’t even know what Ivy threw at her, she could have died, Jason.” Hands on his hips, giving his brother the “I know best by virtue of seniority” look and waiting for an answer, cigarette in one hand while the other gestured his own frustration.

“You drop goons like maggots on the daily and this is the one person you want to save?” Jason makes no effort to hide his scorn as he glides the microfiber cloth over the barrel of the gun he was cleaning. Your gun.

Quite honestly, Dick doesn’t really know yet why he threw you over his shoulder and back into the safety of the Bebop. Dick and Jason had been a team for years, never letting eyes pry into their partnership, carefully evading ISSP and the Syndicate alike. He had no idea who you were, but he didn’t want to admit to recklessness. 

“First of all, she’s not a maggot. Don’t be rude. She helped me escape, technically. Second, she’s got a fuckton to answer for when she wakes up.” Maybe turning the conversation toward the more interesting matter at hand would distract Jason from being mad at him, Dick reasons. “I don’t know about you, but aren’t you even the least bit interested in what’s on those rolls of film?”

“Nope,” Jason makes sure his voice sounds sufficiently clipped. “Not interested in being executed by ISSP firing squad. None of those pigs can aim, it’d take too many shots to kill me and I’d rather it be done in one go.”

“What’s done is done,” Dick says, allowing a note of contrition through his words. “But better we have her than ISSP, no? And how does she know dad?” Both brothers had combed through your belongings, and found your medical emergency contact card that stated, neatly in print: ‘In Case of Emergency, contact Bruce Wayne at ISSP.’

 Jason’s scowl deepens, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he focuses on wiping the fingerprints from each gun and knife laid out on the coffee table in front of him, his back aching from the lumpy old loveseat. 

“Fuck if I know,” he says stonily, a white streak of hair falling over his eyes as he concentrated on running a cloth over the trigger. “All I do know is that I’m calling ‘not it’ on calling Dad about this.”

“Huh?” Dick’s stony face morphs into one of slight bemusement.

“You know we have to call him. And it ain’t gonna be me, Richard.”

Dick snorts, coming to sit down next to Jason and reassembling his own gun with practiced dexterity. 

“Do we know what she got dosed with? Is it contagious?” Dick’s mind flashes back to the moment Ivy blew a handful of dust into your face, the fluidity with which your body collapsed — your head would’ve split open if he hadn’t lunged to ensure your skull would hit his hand instead of the pavement. It wasn’t an active decision so much as a reflex. He hadn’t inhaled enough of that powder to feel anything other than a slight headache and dizziness, but he’d recovered in less than a few hours. You, on the other hand, had slept through the night and through breakfast. Dick had made sure to check in on you every so often, just to make sure you hadn’t died on them.

 “I took a look at the shit Ivy threw at her – it’s a neuromuscular blocker; paralyzes the victim for a few hours depending on dosage. But this one didn’t seem to be particularly high in concentration,” he pauses and looks pointedly at Dick, “So you can monitor her condition. She’ll need lots of fluids and food when she gets up,” he looks down at his watch, “Which should be soon.” 

Only a few seconds later did a blood curdling scream rip its way through the Bebop.

“LET. ME. OUT!” Dick’s eye twitches as your screeches repeat, gradually increasing in volume by the demand. Jason figures that his capacity for tolerating his brother’s antics knows no bounds. “ONCE I’M FREE I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS.” Your threat echoes down the hall, reverberating off of the metal walls of the spaceship. Your sonic assault continues for several minutes.

“Make sure you ask her where she got this little number,” Jason adds calmly, holding up your gun and looking at it with the tiniest hint of admiration. 

“What do you mean? I have to question her?” Dick seems to doubt himself for a moment, your wails disturbing the mundane peace of the Bebop’s living room, a profound intimidation keeping him from seeing the pretty girl in Jason’s lab.

“I’m not the one who brought her here,” Jason runs a hand through the white streak in his hair, “and honestly what I did hear during yesterday’s bust doesn’t make her sound like a walk in the park.” 

“Fair,” Dick doesn’t refute his brother. He turns the conversation toward more pressing matters. “She has to stop eventually, right?” he reasons while wiping down one of his switchblades before clipping it back into his left-hand pocket. It’s not like you could keep screaming forever, you’d lose your voice eventually. Haley hides her snout under a large paw and whines, ears cowered as your screams continue.

“I HAVE ENOUGH C4 IN MY SHIP TO FUCK UP THE NICE HANGOUT YOU GOT HERE!” Another ear splitting screech follows.

“Just—,” Jason closes his eyes, breathing through his nose and pointing angrily toward his quarters, where they had you resting on a bed in his lab. “Just go deal with it, I have enough of a headache as is.” Jason grits through his teeth, huffing through his ruffled feathers and silently cursing his luck as he stands up and disappears into his bedroom, leaving Dick to rummage through the fridge for something suitable to give someone who’d just been turbo-dosed by an anesthetic nerve agent. Haley continues to whine, desperate for an end to your distress.

Dick mindlessly wonders if Jason could possibly recreate it in his lab on the second floor of the Bebop; it’d come in handy. Then they wouldn’t have to expend so much energy chasing after violent goons with bounties on their heads and arsenals that only the worst kinds of people possessed.

☄. *. ⋆

You crouch into a defensive position on your bed the second you hear the hydraulics of the steel door slide open, the hoarse scream dying in your throat. 

“Quiet, please!” a man’s voice breeches the entrance before his form, deep, and friendly,  “You’re scaring Haley.” The handsome guy who had intruded on your bust strolled into the room, his boots colliding with the steel floor and doing nothing to calm your nerves. You scoped him, trying to take note of everything, anything you could use to your advantage. You had to escape. 

“What the fuck am I doing here? Uncuff me.” Your voice was vicious under its hoarse strain. As threatening as you could muster in your weakened state.

In his hands was a tray lined with a sandwich, an apple, and a glass of water. No metal utensils for you to grab and use. 

The man was muscular, much larger than you, but you think you could last long enough in a fight with him to escape; especially if you could get your hands on that scalpel. You’d just have to dodge him, dodge every attack until he tired himself out. You clocked the knife in the pocket of his pants, holster under his jacket. 

“Can’t do that just yet, sweetheart,” he flashes you an apologetic smile, placing the tray on your night stand. You look at the food and drink apprehensively, eyes flitting back and forth across the room. “It’s not poisoned,” the guy says gently, lifting the glass and waterfalling a sip into his own mouth. 

You look up at him, watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, readying yourself to smash his nose in if he comes any closer.

“Let. Me. Go.” You demand again, slower. Hoping to God you sounded menacing enough that he’d think at least twice before touching you.

You keep conducting your desperate, pointless search, head swiping back and forth as you look around as you try to find yourself a weapon - maybe if you broke the ceramic lamp in a really specific way? The glass of water? 

“I wouldn’t,” the man says again, amused. You whip your gaze toward him again.

“Why am I here? What happened to me?” Oh god, you were going to hurl. A few breaths in. A few breaths out. Breathe, you reminded yourself. An anxious weight pulls under your chest.

“You’re safe. You’re on the Bebop. We took you here after you got dosed with a paralyzing agent by Poison Ivy.” 

You knew better than to trust a good-looking man who assured your safety. 

“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital? Are you perverts? Oh my god, I’m gonna be murdered by perverts,” you wail, near hysterics.

“What? No! You just got dosed with a strong anesthetic — you’ll recover,” he explains. “Probably will be groggy and sore.” He sounded patient, confident in his ability to handle himself. He didn’t seem threatened by you at all as he recounted the events of the past 36 hours to you.  “It was hardly acceptable to bring you into a hospital, I figured you wouldn’t want people to find out about your contraband.” He flashes a winning smile at you, seemingly proud of himself for thinking that far ahead. 

You just stare. Stone still. 

Fuck, were they going to rat you out? Slit your throat and take the rolls of film for themselves? It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried.

You let yourself slowly pick up the glass of water, eyes never leaving him as you sip, desperate to quench the dry burn in your throat. The man stood there the whole time, just looking at you with such patience that it made you want to start screaming again. After a beat, you ask:

“If you’re not a pervert, then why am I chained up here?” You could tell he was ISSP, or maybe former ISSP, by the way he fired a gun, the way he shifted his weight before pulling the trigger. You remember telling yourself to take note of that as the both of you tried to escape from the basement of C’est La Vie. Maybe you could persuade him to call Bruce to vouch for you.

“I mean, we couldn’t exactly let you loose once we treated you, could we? You had some interesting items in your possession that I’m sure you’d rather stay out of the wrong hands.” 

You could tell he wanted more information, so you kept your mouth shut, trying to think of ways to keep his mind off of the illegal trove caught under your possession.

“What did you say your name was, again?” you start, sipping slowly at your water and calculating your chances of getting out of here alive.  

“I’m hurt you don’t remember, baby,” he runs a hand through his hair, kind of scratching the back of his scalp, a sad excuse for a smolder shot your way.

You sort of sniff, lip curling in menace instead of a response.

“Anyway, my name is Dick,” he continues. “Yours?”

“You took my wallet, you know who I am. Now let me fucking go.”

You have a hard time containing your rage when his grin just grows.

“I’ll let you go once you’ve answered a few questions,” Dick offers.

“Fine, what?” You practically snarl at him, secretly glad for more time to search for a weapon. Keep him talking. 

“Well, first, why does such a pretty girl carry around her death warrant? Second, I lost a pretty penny because you stuck your nose in my business. Third—” He’s cut off as another pair of boots approach your direction. Your head whips toward the door when you hear its telltale hydraulic breath of air. A burlier, taller man with a streak of bright white hair against black, stalks into the room, your gun in one hand, a mug of tea in the other. He couldn’t have been much older than the present company, grey mutt excluded.

“Third,” the man finishes for Dick, “how do you know our father?” He tosses what you recognize to be your emergency contact card you thought you’d hidden deep in your wallet. “Hi, I’m Jason,” the stranger waves to you, coming to tower over Dick.

“You’re Bruce's sons?” Your eyes flit between the two brothers, the way you’re giggling is a little off-putting to them given your state. Your ankle cuff clangs as your body wracks in fitful laughter. “I’d have gone with ‘Richard,’ by the way,” you shoot at Dick, wiping a mirthful tear from the corner of your eye.

“What's so funny?” Dick’s eyebrows furrow, lip pouting though you don’t think he meant to.

“Answer the damn question, girlie,” Jason commands, a little more threatening than his brother, though you don’t think he really means it.

“Thought you’d be quicker on your feet is all, considering you’re the spawn of Bruce Wayne.” You have a hard time getting the words out amidst your giggle fest. Both men look at you like they couldn’t quite process what was happening. 

“Look, I’m not the one chained to a bed with no hope of escaping. Now, how do you know Bruce?" Jason demands again. 

“He’s my handler,” you shrug, struggling to regulate your breath. Slowly, drawing out the action as much as possible, you sip from the glass Dick had sent next to you.

“What do you mean ‘handler’?” The agitation tightens around Jason’s eyes, and you decide it’s best to take him seriously. You heave a sigh, figuring that the only way you could possibly get out of this situation is to reveal more about yourself. Just enough to get out of the situation, but no more. Your situation was tenuous, and it was impossible to ignore the adrenaline pumping through you with each beat of the heart; steady thunder within a body sore and in need of recuperation. 

“Look, I’d rather not get into it. Quite frankly I’m not allowed to. Just call him yourself, tell him my name — he’ll vouch,” you offer. At least you’d hope he’ll vouch; this was a unique situation. “You can let me get back to my business and you can get back to yours.”

“What makes you think that we’d trust someone associated with ISSP?” Jason questions again. 

“He’s ISSP,” you nod toward Dick, whose eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I can tell by the way you shoot a gun — all technique, no raw intuition.”

Dick’s eyes narrow; at once struck by the acuity of your attentiveness and simultaneously displeased at the critique.

“What do you mean, ‘no raw intuition’?” he asks, sour note reverberating off of the metal walls of the room.

“You’re just…” you eye him up and down, this time taking a moment to process his 

“Oh, come on, spit it out,” Dick crosses his arms.

“...stiff.”

You just leave it at that, snooty and shrugging as if you hadn’t wounded Dick’s pride. 

Jason grunts in frustration.

“Fucking Christ, focus, Richard.” 

“Yeah Richard,” you mock Dick, figuring you’d better get on the good side of the larger one; he’d be harder to fight off. Jason’s demeanor loosens just a tad, seemingly amused  as he looks between the two of you with a raised eyebrow. You think that despite being adoptive brothers, they looked strikingly alike standing next to each other.

Truth be told, you had a feeling that Dick’s devil-may-care affability was a carefully constructed façade, the way the hairs on the back of your neck raised when you first met him on that sidewalk with the three-legged mutt. It was a gut feeling confirmed when the two of you laid eyes on each other under C’est La Vie. And ever since, your nerves had been alight with a sense of foreboding — not end-all-be-all foreboding, but a feeling that you were hurling toward something inevitable. And no matter how much you tried to quash it down, it kept fighting its way to the surface. 

“Call Wayne, I won’t say anything else until you do.” Your tone is resolute.

“Alright,” Dick agrees smoothly, “We’ll call him right now.” He turns toward Jason and nods a silent command at him, and Jason, sticking his tongue out at his brother in annoyance, walks over to the two giant computer screens taking up the space of one wall. You hear a few clicks of a keyboard, before a female AI stilted voice calls out:

“Calling: Bruce Wayne, Chief Director, Inter-Solar System Police.”

Silence, save for the dial tone and Haley panting. All eyes were glued to one of the gigantic screens, waiting for an answer that you prayed would get you out of this situation. No weapon in sight, no way out.

“Dick, Jason — what’s going on?”

Bruce Wayne is a formidable figure, imposing in size, but ever so polite. You hated his guts. 

No one has uttered a peep.

“What’s going on?” He repeats his question with the authority befitting his rank, eyebrows arched just the slightest bit when his eyes land on you.

“Yeah, nice to see you too, Bruce,” Jason mumbles to his adoptive father, stone cold. 

“Bruce, hi — sorry we haven’t called in a minute,” Dick starts off… pausing to figure out how he wants his words to come out.

“Well, lads,” you sneer, looking between the brothers, “which one of you geniuses wants to explain to Daddy what happened?” You try to keep yourself calm, stop the panic just as it tries to force its way to your tongue.

Jason raises his palms, shrugging like his job was done and he was off the clock. He makes his way to the exit, a childish smile on his face as he taunts his elder brother. “You can deal with this one, Richard.” 

“I am going to ask you one more time,” the man on the screen says patiently over the metal of Jason’s boots clanking on the floor. Too cool and ready to strike, he says with finality, “I am not going to ask you a third time. What’s going on?”

Would he admit he knows me? Or would he deny association? You felt your cheeks flush with an anxious anticipation.

“You tell me, Bruce,” Dick crosses his arms in a defensive stance, “She has an ID that lists you as an emergency contact. Says she’s your handler and that you’ll vouch for her.”

Bruce just glowers in thought, eyebrows furrowing expressively — a habit that clearly transcend genetic inheritance. You wait, nerves pounding in your skull, the suspense of meeting your end dangling right in front of your nose. Too much time passes before he speaks. 

“Dick,” Bruce sighs, tone much more genuine and somber, “She’s doing work for ISSP.”

Dick freezes, and even in the dim glow of the fluorescence, you see the stiffness that contours his silhouette.

“What work?” Dick barks, causing you to jump.

“That’s classified, son.” 

“What fucking work, Bruce?” He moves closer to the screen, gripping the computer in both of his hands, a stoic panic radiating from his shadow, plunging you even deeper into the hopelessness of your situation. You keep your mouth shut, watching the scene play out.

“Classified. I’m not even supposed to acknowledge her existence.” You couldn’t believe your eyes, but the Big Scary Pig might actually be speaking earnestly in the three years that you’ve known him. “But it’s not what you’re thinking,” Bruce adds, as if it was a secret between the two of them.

Dick just stands there, stone still. You were facing his back, but you didn’t need to see his face to feel the tension in the air.

Finally, he just scoffs at his father, shaking his head as if trying to clear unwanted thoughts flooding into his brain. You knew what that felt like.

“Fine. She says you can vouch for her — can you?” Dick turns back to you, giving you a sardonic, hard look before turning back to his father, the harshness in his features still apparent as he returns Bruce’s severe glower.

“She’s my responsibility, yes. You can trust her,” Bruce confirms in a measured tone, clearly not wanting to upset his son. Despite the viciousness of your hatred toward Bruce, your heart was going to jump out of your throat from relief. 

“See? Now let me go, lunkhead,” you pipe up loudly. Your ankle was bruised underneath the metal of the cuff: a result of your attempts at escaping.

Dick just lifts one pointer finger, and you falter. “Not quite yet,” he says.

“But — “ you start protesting, only for him to cut you off.

“What about the rolls of film she’s carrying on her?” Dick asks bluntly, letting annoyance seep into his tone as he stares down his father. You freeze.

“She is authorized by ISSP for possession of the film. You need to let her go. Do not interfere with her mission. I cannot say anything else.”

Dick shakes his head, annoyance having grown into a simmering anger.

“If she’s ISSP, why is she out bounty hunting?”

Bruce gives another sigh of frustration, like he was dealing with a petulant child.

“She is not an agent. She is under a classified contract. Stop asking any more questions, Dick.” 

“They don’t pay me,” you add, a falsely serene stroke of venom lacing your words. “A girl’s gotta survive somehow,” you shrug when Dick swings around to look at you in disbelief.

“Her mission is not on record. I need your discretion, son.”

Being called “son” only seemed to enrage him.

“Gotta give me something in return, old man,” Dick attempts to bargain.

“Her interactions with Jason will be off record. Jason will have immunity,” Bruce offers, his figure looming on the screen, intimidating to nearly everyone he encounters. Nearly. “That’s all I will give you.”

“Fine.” Dick moves a finger to hover over the keyboard.

“Oh, and, son?” Bruce calls his son to a pause with a dead serious demeanor.

“Hm?” Dick looks like he’s about ready to clobber his father all the way to Pluto, about to hit the disconnect button.

“If for some reason this conversation ever comes to public light, I will deny it ever happened.” The line goes dead before his finger could smash the “end call” button, plunging the room into a dimmer tension than before.

“Yeah, whatever. See ya, old man.”

☄. *. ⋆

“Oh, thank god.”

An almost sensuous sigh of relief escapes you breathlessly the second Dick unlocks the cuff around your ankle. You massage the ache, bruises already getting nasty and puce on your skin. Dick plants himself at the end of your bed, twirling the cuffs in his hands, deep contemplation seeming to have taken over his attention.

“Keys.” Your hand is out, palm up in petulant demand. The handsome man sitting at the end of your bed, makes no move to go and fulfill your command. Instead, he just looks at you, takes you in under the scrutiny of his deep blues. That foreign exhilaration in your nerves light aflame again, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“Keys and the rest of my shit. Now.” You are getting impatient. Desperate to get the fuck away from here and back to your own business. Maybe check yourself into a motel and get a hot shower. You could splurge. A treat for having endured this fucking episode from hell.

“Well, you see,” Dick laughs, more nervousness pouring into his cheeks the more he grasped the gravity of the situation at hand. “You can stay here until you’ve recuperated…”

“Where are my keys, Dick?”

“It got kinda damaged… when we were chasing Poison Ivy…” He’s ready to flinch in defensiveness, afraid you’d deal him the same hand you dealt the goon back at C’est La Vie.

“No, my baby!” you wail, attempting to get up from the bed. No can do; you collapse back down on the bed, struggling to sit as your vision blurs and a dizziness takes over.

“Woah, take it easy.” You feel a pair of hands ease you back to rest in a comfortable position. Warm, large hands. “You can’t be going anywhere in this state, anyway. It’s gonna take a minute to fix your baby given the damage. Time and a hell of a lot of Woolongs.”

You wanted to cry. God, you were going to cry. Cry and humiliate yourself even further in front of these two.

“How much money?” Do. Not. Fucking. Cry. You command yourself internally, silent prayer that things wouldn’t get worse.

“You don’t have enough. We checked through your bank statements.” 

You just let out a wail, face drooping into your palms. 

Dick sits there, awkwardly bringing the plate with the sandwich and apple closer to you, placing it gingerly on the bed in front of you.

“Finish your food.” His request is so soft, as if he was fearful of your next reaction. “I’ll be back with your stuff and I’ll show you around. Come on, Haley Time for a walk.” 

You don’t let a tear fall, but you do follow Dick’s instructions, vision only focusing when you see him exit the room, his trusted dog hobbling after him.

☄. *. ⋆

After he returns your possessions — inspected by you, with everything intact — and shows you to the guest quarters of the Bebop, Dick slumps onto his familiar lumpy couch, an exhale of exhaustion sinking into his bones as he flicks open his lighter. He squares his shoulders and gets ready to explain the situation to Jason, who was perched over a portable microscope and labeling samples from the shit Ivy had used to incapacitate you. Dozens of slides neatly lined the coffee table. Too organized. Meaning Dick was in for a conversation with an agitated former drug lord. Fucking fantastic.

“We need to let her stay for a bit, to rest up,” Dick starts with the least offensive topic first.

“Obviously.” Jason’s voice is clipped, like he was biting his tongue, not wanting to tear  Dick a new asshole until he heard the whole story. “What else?

“She’s working on something for Bruce.” Dick takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales before he continues. “Off the books.” 

“Are you fucking me? She’s ISSP?”

“Keep a lid on it, she won’t report you. You have immunity.” Another drag before he whistles for Haley. “And she’s not an agent. Contracted hire.”

“For what?” “Old man wouldn’t say. Classified. But he vouches for her. Says we can trust her,” Dick muses over this influx of new information, brain processing with heightened clarity with every hit of nicotine hitting his lungs. Jason grumbles, the same bemused expression gracing his rugged features as he scrutinizes his brother.

“What else? Spit it out, Dick.”

“We need to convince her to stay,” Dick’s request pushes through the plume of secondhand smoke. Haley’s wagging her tail next to the couch, ready to appease each and every direction Dick threw at her to the best of her ability. “Grab me a Pippu, girl, go on!” 

Jason carefully sets down the slide he was labeling, then turns off his microscope light before he addresses his brother with measured impatience.

“And why the fuck would we want ISSP anywhere near us? I thought we had an agreement.” 

Dick just shrugs, unable to find more complex words to articulate his compulsions.

“She knows something our father doesn’t want us to know.” Dick just shrugs, unable to find more complex words to articulate his compulsions. “Plus, she needs a place to stay before she can pay for the repairs on her cute little ship, if we’re gonna be practical about it.”

Jason considers the whole damned situation, cursing Dick under his breath. Always disturbing their blissful Bebop peace. Nearly three years since they’d teamed up. Not a day goes by where Jason wasn’t grateful for his partnership with Dick, but fuck if they hadn’t gotten into some rotten situations because his older brother couldn’t resist a pretty face.

“You said you wanted to fix up a ship, learn how to reconstruct the newer models. Fix up hers. It’s rumored to be quite faaast.” Dick dangles that last part mockingly in front of Jason, knowing that his younger brother couldn’t avoid a fast number like the one you owned.With resignation, the white streaks in his hair follow his exasperatingly slow shakes of his head, annoyed with himself because he knew that Dick’s decision would be immovable.

“I’m trusting you on this. She better not try anything when she’s here or I’m dropping you both off on Pluto.”

Dick feigns sarcastic horror at the threat, silently relieved. Not a day went by where Dick didn’t thank his lucky stars for his brother. Haley comes back with a can of soda between her rather menacing teeth, placing it next to Dick’s leg on the couch; cool condensation of the metal almost seeping through his pants and onto skin. He gives his dog an appreciative scratch behind the ears, and she settles her head on her front paw, readying herself for a snooze.

Meanwhile, under the steaming beat of water against your skull, you rub your skin harshly. Red and raw all over, tears indistinguishable from the scald of the shower, you let yourself drown in self-pity, just for the duration of the shower. You think about your situation, chained to ISSP as a disposable assassin, doing their dirty work for them, leaving their hands scott free. And for fucking what? The question is one you’ve struggled to answer since Bruce had pulled you out from one prison and into another. Bruce had what you wanted. The only purpose you could latch onto, held as a bargaining chip by the fucking cops. So long as you completed this mission, he’d give you what you’re looking for.  You think about stupid things you’ve read in books, like transience, the ephemeral. Dreams — you had a fixation. The in-betweenness of your life, everything and everyone simply a pathway to the next stop, but what you’re looking for is never there. 

It’s the same feeling you’d felt since you were defrosted, taken in by Deathstroke. The despair that could wrench right at the heart because of avoided inevitabilities. Seeing two lovers who were destined never to touch — that was how you described this particular sadness. 

By the time you’d emerged from the steam, cheeks plump and red, reality started seeping back in, demanding that you move, continue on with the necessary motions. Immediately, a distraction lays down in front of you, like a black cat begging you to halt in your path, give it a little scratch on the chin.

“GRAYSON!” You use your revived strength to inject as bloodcurdling a scream as you could into the night. “RICHARD DICKLESS GRAYSON. REPORT TO MY QUARTERS!!!”

“You know there’s an intercom system in every room, babe.” You hear his voice over through the speakers in the sealing. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You’d have to admonish him for the pet names.

He calls your name, and it’s the first time you really register his voice. It sends a shiver to your nerves, right to the edge of your fingertips.

“I need a towel.”

“You can have one if you let me sneak a peek at the goods, pretty girl.”

“I’m not in the mood, Grayson,” you warn him. All you wanted to do was sleep for a few days. Reset your body. He doesn’t wither under your stare, despite your expectations.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he just offers a crooked smirk.

“You’re a pervert. I knew it.” 

Dick just chuckles, all boyish charm as fetches your towel. He swears he catches the quickest flash of red ink on the smooth skin of your back before you slam the door in his face.

☄. *. ⋆

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (8)

ー☆ Chapter 8: Own My Mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 8.3k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with a new chapter and let me tell you, ever since I've started writing this there's been little changes to the plot here and there, but...we should all thank Song Mingi for the way he's been acting this weekend for bringing a major change to it (i wanna kms ha-ha *dies in pain*) Anyways, I have a love-hate relationship with that man right now, don't mind my dramatic ass. Please listen to Maneskin's Own My Mind before or while reading this chapter, just the usual! If you want to be added to this story's taglist, just leave a comment on this post and you'll be added! Also, the drawing our girlie is talking about that is on her bed (later in this chp.), is absolutely waterbomb Mingi and it's a call-back to chp. 4 hehet. I have a surprise at the end of this chapter lol. One last question and then I'm going, should I do a Q&A surrounding this story? Like, if you have any curiosities about it, you can send in an ask and I'll gladly answer it! ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this part and, as always, let me know your thoughts about it!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @sharksandminhos

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            I shivered as I hurriedly shrugged off my jacket, backpack discarded the second I stepped inside my warm home, the loud thunder cut short as Mingi quickly closed the front door behind himself, hissing and groaning. I turned my head to watch him struggle out of his worn-out jacket as I stepped out of my shoes, hardly believing that from just a few minutes out in the rain, even my socks got soaked. Mingi’s head shook as his body trembled, and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I watched him. He looked quite hilarious with his black hair sticking to his forehead, glasses so wet he couldn’t see through them anymore, loose clothing now sticking to his lean body like a second skin.

“What’s so funny?” Mingi playfully furrowed his eyebrows as he took his specks off, shaking the water off the glass, as wiping it against his already wet clothes wouldn’t have helped him in ridding his glasses of water.

“You.” I mumbled with a chuckle as I peeled my cardigan off, skin covered in goosebumps as my damp skin was exposed to the chilly air in the hallway. Mingi rolled his eyes, and placed his glasses back on as I took off towards the wardrobe by the stairs, chewing on my bottom lip. Mingi would have to change out of his wet clothes, unless we wanted him to catch a cold. I couldn’t leave him standing there like that, shivering and sniffing as he already sneezed loudly. His apology was sheepish, but I just flashed him a small smile before opening the heavy door of the wardrobe. There were minimal chances that the box I was looking for was still inside the wardrobe, considering the fact that my mother would go on a cleaning frenzy every month and throw out almost everything inside the house that she deemed unusable anymore. Therefore, there were almost one to zero chances that the box I so vividly remember having placed here ages ago, was still in its spot.

“Uh, do you think I could use the bathroom real fast?” Mingi asked, voice sounding unsure as I kneeled down in front of the wardrobe, eyebrows furrowing when I didn’t spot the box right away.

“One second, let me find something.” I called out, leaning forward as I pushed my mother’s long coats hanging in my face out of the way, and disappeared further into the wardrobe as I pushed and pulled at the thick blankets she kept in there. I thought about giving up for a second, about her having thrown out the contents of the box I was searching for, but I gasped when I felt the sturdy cartoon underneath my fingertips. With a triumphant smile, I pulled on it, a few scarfs and my very old Hello Kitty beanie falling out in the process. The box felt heavier than I remembered it to be, and my heart settled knowing that my mother didn’t throw it out. But that didn’t mean it didn’t start beating wildly once I sat back on my heels, box placed in front of me. A chill ran down my spine, and I knew right now that it wasn’t because of the chilly air and my damp skin. Whatever still remained inside this box…is what I never had the strength to throw out, to fully get rid of every memory lingering of Yunho. I gulped, chewing on my bottom lip as I hesitated opening it up. But there was another loud sneeze, and as I briefly glanced at Mingi, I couldn’t help but notice the light red tinge on his cheeks as he typed away on his phone, completely soaked. I really had no other choice but to open up the box of pandora.

And a lump formed in my throat when I finally opened it, a stale scent hitting my nose. My eyebrows furrowed when a golden butterfly necklace sat on top of everything, a harsh reminder of all the gifts Yunho would buy for me during our relationship. I have thrown out all the gifts, except this one. It was expensive, and frankly, too beautiful to be thrown out or gifted to anyone else. Gulping, I pushed the necklace aside and sighed as I dug around the box, jaw clenching at the three sketchbooks getting in my way. They were filled with drawings of Yunho and myself, of all the places we’ve been to, of all the places I have wished to visit with Yunho. Of all the memories we have once made, and of all the memories I wished we could’ve made. Being an artist was amazing, but at certain times it was a nightmare in disguise, brain able to conjure such vivid images that never happened, that it could fool me into thinking that they have actually happened. I sighed quietly as I felt eyes on me, and finally found what I was searching for. A fuzzy and faded knitted sweater, a plethora of colors mixed together, from beige to a light purple, black and silver in the mix too. I pulled it out of the box, together with the grey sweatpants, and cleared my throat as I stood, hands burning the longer I held the clothing in my hands. I felt guilty, almost disgusting as I neared Mingi again, trying to avoid his eyes as he had an easy look on his face, smiling despite continuously sniffing.

“These are the only male clothing we have in the house,” I said as I reached my hands out, looking at Mingi’s chest rather than eyes, “hopefully they’ll fit you.”

“And if they won’t, you can always give me one of your colorful fuzzy cardigans.” Mingi’s tone was playful and I chuckled, giving him a playful glare. Those cardigans would never fit his broad shoulders. The tightness was gone from my chest as Mingi took the clothes from my grasp, a thankful look on his face. The guilt remained, but it wasn’t so pressing anymore.

“You can change in the bathroom downstairs,” I pointed towards the closed door across from the wardrobe, “towels are in the cabinet above the toilet. Do you need a hairdryer?”

Mingi shook his head with a smile and gave my soaked hair a light tap, “Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he seemed to linger on my name sent my heart into a dumb frenzy, and I found myself flustered beyond, emotion so foreign I forgot how to speak for a second. And Mingi didn’t miss it, fuck, because he walked away with a smug smile towards the bathroom and paused in the doorway for dramatic effect, before disappearing with a damn wink. I huffed, glaring daggers at the closed door as I scurried to shove everything fallen out back inside the wardrobe, closing its door rather harshly. I licked my chapped lips and raced up the stairs, throwing the door to my room open and taking a second to take in its state. My desk was messy, but that’s just how it always was, I couldn’t do much about it right now. I opened the blackout curtains, however, the weather already gloomy enough to cast shadows inside my dark room. I flinched as another thunder rumbled through the sky, and grabbed the first clothes I found in my closet, walking to the bathroom upstairs.

After having changed into wide legged leggings that had cotton on the inside, I quickly threw on a white tank top and a soft pink mock neck sweater, sighing in content as warmth finally enveloped my body after I have dried up the dampness on it with a towel. I skipped down the stairs as I had a towel around my head, messily towel drying my hair, completely missing the tall form standing at the foot of the stairs as I stumbled into him. I yelped, but Mingi quickly steadied me by the elbows. Before I had the chance to pull the towel off my head, two large hands grabbed at it and started softly rubbing the towel against my wet hair. I froze, everything inside me stopping as even my breath stilled, eyes wide open. Mingi said nothing as he continued with his actions, quietly humming to himself. I was afraid he’d be able to hear my loud heartbeat as I breathed through my mouth, lips parting as I struggled to calm down. I was thankful for the towel hiding my face, because I could feel the blush spreading down from my cheeks to my ears, and even neck. I couldn’t remember a time when I have blushed this hard, and it made me feel slightly disoriented. For God’s sake, Mingi was simply towel drying my hair for me, why was I having such a visceral reaction to it?! My mind seemed to be screaming at me, but I was too busy trying to regulate my breathing, doing so quietly, as Mingi’s hands became a little rougher, almost pulling on specific strands of hair. My eyes narrowed as he turned my head left to right to his likes, and I groaned as his fingers dug into my scalp.

“Hey, stop it!” I whined and slapped at his hand, making Mingi chuckle as he ruffled my hair to the point I had strands from the back falling into my eyes.

“Oh, good,” He was still chuckling, “for a second there I thought you had fallen asleep with how quiet you were.”

Despite not being able to see his face, or anything if I looked ahead, I could still peek down and see his feet. I was standing on the last step of the stairs, and with an evil grin, I jumped down, his naked toes falling victims to my attack. Mingi yelped loudly, and I cackled as I pulled the towel off my face, smiling at him smugly.

“Serves you right since my hair is all knotted up thanks to you.” I raised my eyebrows at him as Mingi had his right leg raised, massaging his toes with a pained expression.

“So you break my toes?!” He exclaimed, his deep tone a few octaves higher, making me snicker to myself as I threw the towel at him, making him yelp and look at me with an appalled expression on his face.

“Stop being a baby,” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked towards the front door to lock it before I went inside the kitchen, “And wear some slippers before you come to the kitchen.”

Mingi was closely following behind me, ignoring my words, “What, one of your dwarf slippers? It’s either my toes or heels will be dangling off.”

The image was funny in my head, but I ignored it in order to throw him a scrutinizing look, “The tiles are cold in here, you’ll catch a cold.”

A wide smile spread on Mingi’s lips as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, biceps bulging underneath the tight fabric of the sweater, “You’re so cute when you worry about me, doll.”

There goes the pleasant exchange we’ve been having up until now. My voice became devoid of any expression besides the glare I threw at him, mirroring him as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, “I’m not cute. I’m merely saying you’ll probably catch a cold since we’ve been out in the rain not even fifteen minutes ago. And since you’re a singer you should be taking a lot more care of yourself.”

Mingi remained silent for a few seconds, until I watched a light hue tinge his cheeks. Was he blushing because I was lecturing him? Just what in the hell?!

“You’re right, sorry.” Mingi mumbled, but showed no intentions of actually following through with my words as he walked further inside the room, sitting at the table, feet up on the chair as he hugged his long legs to his chest. For such a tall and broad man, he looked extremely tiny sitting on that chair right now.

“Uh,” A little confused by the turn of events, I looked around the kitchen, trying to remember the initial purpose of me coming here, “Right. You don’t like tea, so we have coffee or hot chocolate to warm us up, which one would you like?”

Mingi’s eyes lingered on me for a second too long, taking in my whole being before his eyes settled on my face again, a smile so genuine settling on his lips that his eyes were sparkling, “Hot chocolate is fine.”

I hummed, a little breathless, then turned to open the cabinet above the microwave to take out two tall mugs for the hot chocolate. For some reason, I didn’t mind Mingi’s eyes following my every move as I tinkered around in my kitchen, taking everything I needed in my hands to prepare them on the counter. The thought of having Mingi inside my home, sitting in my kitchen, wearing my ex’s clothes, acting like we’ve been friends since forever seemed to hit me at once as I froze for a second while pouring water inside the second mug, Mingi’s mug. And what was even more surprising was not finding any thoughts that suggested that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, that Mingi didn’t belong inside my kitchen. I didn’t want to dwell more on why it all felt so right, so instead, I watched as the mugs whirled around in the microwave, locking these thoughts away for later…I knew they’d come back late at night to haunt me, it’s just how it always was.

Mingi clearing his throat gained my attention as I glanced back at him, and tried not to look too long. The way Yunho’s clothes perfectly fit Mingi’s form was alarming, albeit the sweatpants seemed to be slightly too long for Mingi. I’ve had Yunho’s clothes since highschool, which was a few good years ago, yet they still fit Mingi. It made me wonder if the two ever exchanged clothes or wore something matching, like best friends would do for fun. I know Yunho had once mentioned having matching rings with Mingi, but back then I was too jealous about their closeness to ask any further questions about any other matching items they had. And it was a little surprising just how well Mingi’s skin tone was complimented by the colors of Yunho’s old sweater, Mingi’s necklaces sitting on top of the knitted fabric. That sweater was one of my favorite’s while Yunho and I were dating, Yunho always seemed to be glowing when he wore it. At some point I had even forgotten that I still had it. Perhaps I should do something about the contents of that box, join my mother next month in her frenzy cleaning marathon and throw out its contents.

The microwave pinged and I took the two mugs out, realizing that Mingi and I had been staring at each other for at least a good minute, my cheeks flushed again. A soft chuckle was heard behind me, but I ignored it for my own sake. The silence didn’t last for longer as I opened the little packages containing the hot chocolate powder to pour into our cups, “This might sound crazy, but I swear I’ve seen this exact sweater on Yunho quite a few times.”

I froze, thankful that I had my back to Mingi as panic flashed over my face. Deep breaths, I had this. Mingi didn’t have to know, I could lie my way out of this. And so, I forced a small smile on my face as I faced him while walking to the fridge, “Really? Well, coincidence, maybe. It’s my cousin’s sweater, he forgot it here once, but as he lives overseas he never came to get it and my mother just placed it away for when he comes to visit us.”

I didn’t have one single male cousin. Let alone cousin’s that lived overseas.

“Oh,” Mingi mumbled as he picked at an undone string on the sleeve of Yunho’s sweater, “Yeah, that could be it, a coincidence, I mean. Besides, my memory is a little fuzzy, I might be wrong.”

I gulped away the guilt that suddenly bloomed in my chest and grabbed the whipped cream, raising it up, “Whipped cream for your hot chocolate?”

I grinned at Mingi as he slowly shook his head, “I drink it simple.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I walked back to the mugs, “Not even with marshmallows?”

Mingi shook his head with a small smile and so I mixed his powder with the warm water, handing it to him. Mingi had a fond smile on his lips when he took it, his cold fingers lightly brushing against mine, making me blush like a stupid schoolgirl who has a crush. And I do not have a crush on anyone, let alone on Song Mingi. I swiftly turned around, hoping that Mingi didn’t notice me blushing as I quickly put whipped cream in my hot chocolate and stuck two marshmallows in it, putting everything away quickly. I turned to face him as I took a sip, leaning against the counter. Mingi sat in a cross-legged position on the chair as he had the mug in his hands, ring clad fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic. I couldn’t help myself as my eyes lingered on his painted nails, slowly trailing up to Mingi’s face. His black fluffy hair fell in his eyes, obscuring his sharp eyes slightly as they were devoid of the black eyeliner now, a few blemishes tainting his otherwise glowing skin around his jaw, glasses slipping low on his tall nose, and plump lips red and slightly wet from how much Mingi always licks his lips. The simplicity of his whole being has never looked more attractive than right now, and as Mingi opened his mouth to say something, I was startled by such alarming thoughts, and so I hurried out of the kitchen.

“Let’s go up to my room!” I called out, on the brink of crying from all these stupid emotions I was suddenly feeling, trying to calm my crazily beating heart. Who allowed my brain to think in such way of Song Mingi? When did I even start considering him attractive? He was annoying, obnoxiously loud, arrogant and irritating, there was absolutely nothing to like about him or find in him attractive. I had to get a grip of myself right now! Mingi’s footsteps were dull as he followed after me, probably surprised that I had waited for him at the top of the stairs, unknowing of the storm inside my head, matching the raging storm outside. Lightning flashed every two seconds, skies rumbling with thunder, shaking even the ground at times. I hated storms, but suddenly it wasn’t as unbearable as before. When Mingi stood next to me, I lead us towards my room and pushed the door open, leaving it like that as Mingi walked in once I stepped aside for him, allowing him inside my safe space.

I have never been consciously proud or embarrassed of what my room looked like, the thought of what others thought of it absent up until right now. As Mingi walked further inside, head turning each and every way, taking everything in, suddenly I realized I was scared of what he would think. My walls were painted a light grey, on purpose, and there was little to no space left bare except for the wall on which the window was. My bed was pushed up against the wall to your left just as you walked inside, sketches that I have done throughout the years plastered up and put on display, my very first drawing even making it up on my wall. It was my little personal museum, a way of reminding myself of where I started out and how much I have evolved ever since, and even how much I was still changing as I was experimenting with my styles, learning a new technique in the class of Mr. Yoon. The desk across from my bed was messy, like I have said, it was littered with everything I needed to have at hand. Pencil holders filled to the brim, at least five of them, then there were brushes and little paint tubes littered all over it, notebooks and discarded sketches sitting underneath it, with my laptop hanging just a little dangerously off, not having paid much attention where I have put it this morning. A plain canvas was spread out on the little free space I still had, a project I had planned on starting today, now postponed for tomorrow. The wall above my desk had three modest shelves filled to the brim with books and some vinyl’s I have started collecting not long ago, pots and plants hanging off from the sides. The wall around the shelves was decorated by posters and pictures of my favorite bands, a few of my favorite paintings mixing in with them. The little stand next to my desk had my vinyl player, plants underneath it and around it, little ones. And then in the corner there was an old guitar that once had belonged to my mother, who has had a phase back in highschool and dreams of becoming a band member, famous and rich. She didn’t have the heart to gift the guitar to anyone, so she’s always kept it and passed it on to me once I was old enough. I never had an affinity for playing any instruments, but I do enjoy good music. A mix of old and new artists making it in that mix, actually—perhaps Noir Zenith slowly becoming one of them too, but Mingi didn’t have to know that. My closet was to the right just as you walked in, and it was of dark and sturdy wood, expanding from the ceiling to the floor. I had a little mirror right on its right side, the wall above and behind it, going right behind the door even, littered with my favorite painter’s paintings. Of course, they were only prints made at the local copy shop, but that didn’t matter. Fairy lights hung above my bed and from the lamp on the ceiling. The two nightstands on either side of my bed were more organized than one would expect from me, little makeup buckets placed on the one closest to the window, charger cable and some headphones sitting on the dark wood. The one nearest to the door had pictures of myself and my mom, and of Seulgi and I on display with a little clock, its drawer so filled with notebooks that I couldn’t quite close it. Thankfully the drawers of my desk weren’t so filled, I had just rearranged them last week, one evening when I was too restless to sleep.

Mingi was quiet as his mouth was slightly open, eyes wide as he took everything in, eyes falling onto my bed. I followed his sight and was mortified to find my biggest sketchbook open and displaying a quite realistic sketch of Mingi performing on stage. It was from the night I had a breakdown and Mingi found me in that diner. Seulgi had sent me some pictures she had taken of Wooyoung and accidentally slipped in one with Mingi too, and because the image just wouldn’t leave my mind, I knew I had no choice but to draw it. I dived for the sketchbook as if my life depended on it, all of it happening so fast I hoped Mingi didn’t actually catch what the drawing—or better said, who—the drawing was of. I shut it closed and pushed it off the bed, the light thud loud in the silent room. When I turned to look at Mingi, ready to face his smug face and taunting words, I was surprised to find his attention on something completely different. Of course, I should’ve expected from a man who plays in a band to be enamored by the vintage guitar in my possession. Its body was a light blue and had cherry blossoms painted over it, something my mother admitted to doing so, which lead to an argument with her father back in the days when he had seen the “damage” my mother had done to the pricey guitar.

“Is that a Martin D-19?” Mingi gushed as he walked toward the guitar, mouth hanging open. My eyebrows raised at his knowledge about it upon one glance. To me, it looked like a regular acoustic guitar. But then again, I should’ve expected it from a music major and a guy who has a literal band and plays the bass.

“Yeah, it was my mother’s.” I answered as I set my mug on the nightstand and sat at the edge of my bed, watching the awed expression on Mingi’s face. He had placed his mug by the foot of my desk as he crouched down, admiring the guitar from up-close.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” Mingi whispered, fingers carefully tracing its body. Not even at gun point would I have admitted my next thought, which was of just how beautiful Mingi looked in this exact moment. Lightning flashed and the ground shook with the intense thunder, making Mingi tense for a second before he turned back to face me with the prettiest smile I have ever seen on someone.

“Your mother knows how to play it?” He asked, sounding enthusiastic. I was breathless, but after a big gulp, I forced my brain to function.

“Yeah,” I answered with a small smile, “she was a big rock lover back in the days, even wanted to start her own band. But due to her parents negative reactions to it, she unfortunately had to give up on that dream and do something more ‘real’.”

I rolled my eyes at the end of my sentence, not very fond of my grandparents. They weren’t bad people, but they also treated my mother harshly, and even myself, always asking about my future plans and straight up crying when I told them I wanted to become a painter. I saw the way Mingi’s face hardened for a second, but I knew he didn’t want to talk about it as he became expressionless quickly after. I was curious what made his mood become sour so quickly, if he perhaps related to what I have said in some way, but I wouldn’t prod. If he wants to tell me, he will sometime. So, instead, as a distraction, I scooched up further on my bed and patted the mattress next to me with a lazy smile, watching Mingi’s eyes slightly widen. He looked a little shy as he grabbed his mug and rose up to his full height, steps almost hesitant as he approached the bed, making me snort. It made Mingi narrow his eyes as I crossed my legs underneath myself as he kneeled on the bed and then settled beside me, long legs extended as he playfully wiggled his feet left and right. I chuckled as I clasped my hands together, letting them rest in my lap as Mingi took a sip of his hot chocolate. The silence was comfortable between us, the harsh rain hitting the windows loudly, wind rocking trees harshly, and the lightning and rumble a constant background noise.

“Last time when we performed at Outlaw, when you didn’t come,” Mingi paused and turned his head to look at me, “you know, when we met at the diner—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” I muttered with a grimace and Mingi hummed, licking his lips.

“Right, so, that night,” His voice was quiet, lips pulling into an abashed smile, “the crowd was bigger than usual, at first I blamed it on being a rowdier night, but it turned out those people were there to see us, Noir Zenith, to see me.”

I felt a small smile appear on my own lips, Mingi looking pleased with himself despite the light pink tinge of his cheeks, “And now Hongjoong might help us sign with a record deal, I feel like everything is finally coming together. Like my hard work is finally being rewarded.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from smiling too wide, subconsciously reaching out to hold Mingi’s arm as he looked me in the eyes, “That’s so good, Mingi! You deserve all the praise and attention your band gets, you’re really good.”

“You really think so?” Mingi sounded small, eyes wide in wonder as he flushed more. I knew I have said some things that weren’t the nicest, and now it made me realize that Mingi never deserved hearing those things from me. Yeah, I didn’t like the guy much at the beginning—not that now I like him more—but I still shouldn’t have shit on his music, on something he pours his whole soul and heart into.

“I really do, Mingi.” I slightly squeezed his arm, hoping that he could hear the sincerity in my voice as a wide and bright smile spread onto Mingi’s plush lips, so contagious that I found myself with a matching smile on my own lips. I chuckled, for some reason not wanting to release his arm just yet, the knitted sweater soft and warm under my touch.

“Lovely seeing you slowly turn into my number one fan, doll.” Of course, trust Mingi to ruin the moment. My eyes narrowed as I sighed loudly, slowly shaking my head. Mingi chuckled before taking a large gulp of his not so hot anymore chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Now, don’t get cocky.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand off his arm, watching as his eyes lingered where I have touched him, “I can recognize good work without becoming your fan.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Mingi mused playfully and I scoffed, bumping my shoulder into his before I went to retrieve my laptop from my desk, “Seonghwa and Wooyoung want us to try out new genres.”

“Really?” I asked surprised as I settled back in my previous spot, knee brushing against Mingi’s thigh, “Like what?”

“Well, nothing specific, just something little softer.” Mingi pursed his lips, fiddling with the mug in his hands, “Maybe something more indie rock.”

“I love indie rock,” I muttered absentmindedly as I powered on my laptop, “and why are you reluctant?”

Mingi seemed surprised that I had caught on, but it was quite obvious in his tone that he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it, “Because my voice is rough and raw, unlike Seonghwa’s who’s smooth and almost angelic, and Wooyoung’s who’s can reach pitches I can only dream of and has a roughness that is absolutely soft at the same time, alluring.”

“Your voice is deep and powerful, it conveys every single emotion you’re feeling when you sing, Mingi. Your raspy tone alone tells a story, even without speaking the same language I would understand what you’re singing about. But just because it’s rougher and more powerful compared to Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful and enchanting, Mingi.” Occupied with typing in the password to my laptop, I failed to notice the way Mingi’s breaths became shallow, the way his eyes bore into the side of my skull, “I think your voice is unique and desirable, you should be proud of it and not look down on yourself because of it. Many wish to have what you have, so really, don’t think any less of yourself because you think Seonghwa and Wooyoung are somehow better and more alluring. It’s not true, each one of you has their charm and well…I think you’re the most charming out of the three of you.”

I didn’t expect the expression on Mingi’s face when I turned my head to look at him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were glazed over as his sharp eyes watched me intently, his breaths loud as his cheeks were red. My eyebrows furrowed, and for a second I worried I have made him angry, but the longer I looked, I realized the look in his eyes had nothing to do with anger. I gulped and averted my eyes, suddenly feeling my heart race again, biting my lower lip and trying to ignore the overbearing proximity between us. It was only our knee and thigh touching, yet it felt like Mingi was all over me, his scent still strong despite having changed out of his clothes and getting soaked by the rain. He always had a sharp scent surround him; it reminded me of pine trees.

“Thank you.” At last, Mingi found his voice and it was lower than before, goosebumps covered my skin as the low baritone of it traveled through my body. I nodded once in acknowledgement, not trusting my voice as I went on the internet to search for some movies to watch and pass the time while we wait for the storm to pass. If it passes, “Do you think rapping would fit my tone?”

It was an unexpected question, but as I mulled over it, I concluded that Mingi had the perfect timbre to both sing and rap, “Yeah, I think it would.”

I dared to take a peek at Mingi from the corner of my eyes, and was relieved to find the intensity gone from his face, instead, a soft smile grazed his lips as he finished his hot chocolate. He leaned back and placed his empty mug next to mine on the nightstand and fished his phone out of his pocket, “I found some old videos of me at school plays, let’s see what my music genius bestie thinks of them.”

I rolled my eyes, but nevertheless peered over Mingi’s shoulder in curiosity, “Don’t make fun of me, I’m merely stating something that someone with not musically trained ears hear. You should be more thankful.”

“I’m more than thankful, Y/N.” Mingi suddenly turned his head, our faces too close for comfort, so I quickly leaned back as he placed his arm on my thigh and pressed play on a video he pulled up from his gallery.

『Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?

Do you wanna know what the good, good, bad things all feel like?

Do you wanna, do you wanna own my mind, own my mind?』

            The movie of my choice was simple, The Quiet Ones. Nothing better than something a little spooky while there’s a wild storm raging outside, but to my utter surprise, Mingi looked terrified after only ten minutes of watching it. We were both leaning against the headboard of my bed, pillows behind our backs, and laptop placed between our lower bodies as our legs were stretched out. And despite the laptop being between us, Mingi’s shoulder pressed against mine not even five minutes after settling in our current spots. Trying to watch the horror movie, which was one of my favorite movie’s, turned out to be a fail, and I had no choice but to give in to Mingi as he only stopped whining when he got what he wanted. And that was watching a rom-com from the nineties, called 10 Things I Hate About You. I’ve seen it numerous times already, but it never gets old. There is something about the way the actors play their parts, and the plot too, that have me coming back to it with the same enthusiasm I had for it when watching it for the first time. At first, I thought Mingi hadn’t seen it and had only went along with my suggestion because he didn’t know what else to watch, but when he started quoting Patrick’s lines as if he were the character himself, I narrowed my eyes at him and poked his arm. After some painful jabs, he admitted that it was his favorite movie and he regularly rewatched it, especially if he was in a bad mood. That was a piece of information I wasn’t expecting from someone like Mingi. He looked like a guy who enjoyed tough and brutal movies, with the occasional romance movies if a pretty girl begged him to watch it together. Turns out, Mingi’s favorite genre is romance, and he hates horror, and depends on the type of thriller whether he likes it or not.

We found ourselves joking and laughing throughout the movie, making our own commentary about it after our first disagreement. Which was about whether Patrick accepting the money to charm Kat was right or wrong. Of course, it was very wrong to play with someone’s feelings and get paid for it too, but Mingi argued that if he never accepted it, then him and Kat would’ve never gotten together. And for that, I threw in the hypothetical scenario of him accepting money from Wooyoung so that he could take me out on a date and make me fall in love with him if that meant Wooyoung could have Seulgi date him. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed and he declined such scenario, exactly proving my point why this was so wrong then, but he remained believing that for Kat and Patrick it totally worked out. And then he had the audacity to compare my stubbornness to Kat’s, making me call him just as stupid as Patrick was.

Time flew by as our laughter got louder, completely missing the way the rain had started to quiet down as we were immersed in the movie we were watching. It felt like a bubble was wrapped around us, isolating us from the cold world, and letting us enjoy ourselves without being so cautious of what we were saying. It felt nice. I couldn’t remember a time when I was able to let loose with someone other than Seulgi. It was a nice feeling, it made me excited in some way, completely making me forget that I was doing this with Mingi. He made it too easy to forget my worries and made me feel really comfortable all of a sudden, never stepping out of line—if we ignore his stupid flirting—and always keeping everything lighthearted. It was a nice change for once.

I groaned as I let my head fall back, lips pursed as my ass had gone numb from sitting so much in one place. Mingi snickered as Kat reversed into Joey’s car, clearly amused by the snarky remarks exchanged between the two characters. He was clearly into the witty exchanges, especially between Patrick and Kat, even having said that it makes Kat attractive how quickly and well she can shut Patrick down. I had told him that she wouldn’t have to do that if Patrick wasn’t so stupid most of the time, making Mingi roll his eyes at me, and say that I simply didn’t appreciate some good banter. Which wasn’t even true, I liked bantering if it had a smart purpose, not just to rile each other up, what was the point of that?

I licked my lips as my head lulled to the right, eyes falling on Mingi’s profile as he had his legs up, leaning forward as he hugged them around his knees with one arm. He was smiling and chuckling, pretty red lips pulled to the side, showing off his white teeth. His brows were dark, and his browbone being more prominent really sharpened his face in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Mingi’s face was very beautiful, and as an artist, I couldn’t help but admire it, and recognize it. So many pretty portraits of his face could be made, pity he doesn’t model. My lips pulled into a tiny smile at the thought of him modelling for me when we had to sketch human forms for our next class. I’m sure my professor would appreciate my drawings even more. Mingi’s glasses were discarded, and my eyes paused on his long nose, biting my lower lip just as Mingi chuckled again, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He sniffed before rubbing two fingers against his plump lips, wetting them not even a second later. I gulped as I suddenly wondered what they would taste like. It was such a startling thought that I jumped, but Mingi suddenly looking at me certainly scared me more. I gulped, instantly blushing as a friendly smile painted Mingi’s lips as he leaned back, placing his head on the pillow, and letting it roll to the left. Our gazes connected, and I wasn’t surprised to find my heart beating so quickly once again, my lips pulling into a straight line as I struggled to keep my breathing even. Mingi’s easy smile didn’t disappear as his eyes racked over my face, it only became wider.

There was a whole galaxy behind those beautiful deep brown eyes of his, they sparkled with life and an excitement I haven’t seen in anyone before. I wished that I could recreate that in my drawings, but I wasn’t good enough to give simple eyes such deep emotions yet. And I really wished I was able to do so, because the longer I stared into Mingi’s eyes, the more lost I got in them, thoughts and worries disappearing into nothingness. Mingi’s hand twitched for a second and I tensed when I felt a finger gently poking my cold hand. I gulped, but I wasn’t able to look away as ever so softly more fingers brushed against my skin like feather, Mingi’s bottom lip between his teeth. His actions were slow and cautious, probably afraid that I would pull away, but I was too captured by his alluring gaze to even think to move away from him. Slowly, his longer fingers intertwined with mine and his rings cut into my skin when I squeezed his hand, uncaring that it hurt a bit. I knew my cheeks were now surely very red, but I couldn’t actually be bothered to feel embarrassed, not when Mingi’s cheeks were dusted pink as well. His high cheekbones were flushed the pretties color they could have been, and I smiled as Mingi blinked, looking abashed. Somehow no words had to be exchanged between us, everything felt comfortable, scarily familiar. I haven’t felt like this…since my ex. And not even with him have I felt so safe and understood, it always seemed like there was some invisible barrier between us, and I never understood why. With Mingi, if I allowed myself to feel and be unafraid, no barrier lay between the two of us.

I gulped, eyes suddenly falling on Mingi’s lips as his tongue poked out just slightly to wet them, his plump lips red and full. I’ve never seen a person have such full lips, and it made me wonder if they were as soft as one would imagine them be. Aware that my eyes were glued to Mingi’s lips, I looked back up in his eyes, trying to ignore how insanely attractive his mole right underneath it made him look. There was something about Mingi’s bareface that was so charming and beautiful that it almost made me feel jealous of it. Mingi sniffed quietly, and his bottom lip was between his teeth again as his eyes fell to my lips, my rapid heartbeat halting for a second. Could he be having similar thoughts to mine? I wouldn’t know, but when Mingi’s eyes found mine again, they were just slightly more intense and sharper. Like he was determined and nothing could stop him. I gulped loudly as he moved his head, just lightly, but it was closer than before. My heart was beating like crazy, but almost as if I was under a spell, I found myself shifting my head just a little bit closer. Mingi’s eyes no longer were on mine, and as my lips parted when I licked them, I felt Mingi’s hand squeeze mine just a little bit more. I gulped as I proceeded to lean even closer, my eyes fixated on Mingi’s lips now too, just wondering and wondering infinitely if they were warm, soft, wet, and what they would taste like. I didn’t startle nor flinch when Mingi angled his body so that he could lean dangerously close, the bridge of his nose brushing against mine. His hot breath mingled with mine as our lips were parted, a pull so magnetic I couldn’t untangle myself from it even if I tried to. My eyes threatened to flutter closed as I pressed my nose against his, the side of our lips rubbing just a little together as I couldn’t breathe regularly anymore. Mingi’s lips pressed ever so slightly against the corner of mine, feather like, and it suddenly wasn’t enough. The distance, it was too big—even if it didn’t even exist between us anymore—and I squeezed his hand as I angled my head to finally press our lips together, Mingi’s breaths audible due to our proximity.

But suddenly, a door was slammed shut loudly, “Sweetheart, I made it home finally! I saw a car parked in front of our house, all’s good?!”

The curious and shrill voice of my mother sent Mingi and I flying away from each other, both of our eyes wide as I was panting, my whole body burning. I couldn’t look at Mingi as I scrambled to press pause on the movie and Mingi was off the bed in a flash, sprinting towards my window. I could still feel his hot puffs against my face, and I gulped as I forced myself to forget everything I felt just seconds ago.

“The rain stopped,” Mingi’s voice was hoarse, so gravely that I had to clench my fists to stop myself from doing something I would regret, “I will be going.”

“I’ll go downstairs, let my mom know you’re here.” My voice wasn’t better off, I sounded breathless. I felt lightheaded as I got off the bed, standing and pausing for a second.

“Right, I’ll change back into my clothes and then—”

“No,” I didn’t mean to sound desperate as Mingi’s eyes fell on me, I had to look away in embarrassment, “keep them, they are of no use to me.”

“Right.” Mingi cleared his throat and I quickly walked past him, thankful that he stepped aside, and hurried out of my room and down the stairs. I took a deep breath to compose myself as I heard my mother placing down plastic bags in the kitchen. I needed to behave like everything was fine, when nothing was fine anymore.

“Hi!” My greeting was high pitched and way too cheery, my mother’s eyes narrowed when she saw me standing in the doorway, “Glad you made it home, the storm was awful.”

“It really was.” My mom grimaced as she continued unpacking the groceries, “You got home alright?”

“Yeah, uhm, actually,” I gulped and bit my lower lip as I heard Mingi coming down the stairs, “a friend from university drove me home as it was already raining, and he, uhm, stayed over. Because the rain was so bad he wouldn’t have been able to drive home. You know, safety measures and all.”

My mother paused and looked up at me with both of her eyebrows raised, “He?”

And on cue, Mingi appeared next to me, glasses pushed up on his nose adequately for once and hair not as messy as before, “Hello, my name is Song Mingi.”

“Nice to meet you, dear.” My mother’s eyes were glinting, looking way too happy for someone who was just introducing themselves. I was afraid of what would come, so, I grabbed Mingi’s arm and guided him towards the coat hanger.

“Mingi’s leaving, mom.” I said as I let go of his arm, averting my eyes as he wore his shoes and pulled on his jacket.

“Already?” My mom asked with a pout, coming to stand in the doorway, “Don’t you want to stay for dinner, dear?”

Mingi froze, eyes first finding mine before he looked at my mother with a polite smile, “Don’t worry, Mrs—”

“Oh, don’t be all formal with me, I hate that shit.” My mother chuckled and winked at him, “Call me Boyoung.”

Mingi gulped, seemingly taken aback by my mother’s behavior. I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, knowing how surprising the contrast between my mother’s personality and mine was. Sadly, I haven’t taken after her when it comes to my attitude, but that’s fine.

“Well, Boyoung, thank you for your offer, but my friends and I actually agreed on dining out tonight.” Mingi’s excuse sounded real, so I knew he wasn’t lying. I gulped when my mother threw me a very slick glare, almost saying that this was my fault. I rolled my eyes, offended by her assumption.

“That’s a pity, dear,” My mother pouted, but soon a bright smile appeared on her lips, “But you are invited for whenever you feel like having dinner with us, right, my starlight?”

I tried not to glare at my mother for the outrageous nickname, especially when I saw Mingi’s lips twitch in amusement. I told her not to call me that in front of others so many times, “Right, mom.”

My mother chuckled, all too aware of my dislike for the nickname, before her eyes landed on Mingi again. There was a brief pause, one too awkward for my liking, and then Mingi was clearing his throat and opening the front door.

“Uh,” He made eye contact with me briefly, “talk to you later.”

“Wait,” My mother’s eyebrows furrowed as Mingi stepped outside, trying to adjust the strap of his backpack, “Aren’t those Yun—”

“Talk to you later!” I loudly said, making sure to send my mother a very alarmed look as Mingi froze for a second before he hummed quietly and took off towards his car.

The air was chilly and humid due to the harsh rain, and as I closed the front door, I knew I had a lot of questions to answer when my eyes fell on my mother’s amused face.

❱❱ Next chapter

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

lol, this is the surprise I mentioned...I saw this post and it would just not leave my mind, besides, I think it's very fitting for our plot, no?

[yanderehsr]

Hi! Are your requests open? If yes, could I request yandere Aether, Kafka and Venti with a reader who is on hunger strike? Like- they refuse to eat untill they get freed?

Sure, Hope you'll enjoy😁

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapped reader, starving

Aether: He will panic if you skip just one meal, now if you skip multiple meals he becomes determined to cook better and better food, it smells like heaven anytime he gives you food, but you still refuse.

Aether will guilttrip you, he and Paimon will. Paimon just wants to help her dear companion that gives so much but never gets enough in return, and if keeping you with Aether is making him happy then Paimon will do anything to help, with both of them breathing down your neck it is only a matter of time before you eat.

"Please eat something, I spent 5 hours on this dish and Paimon told me she wouldn't eat a single bite before you eat."

Kafka: She sees it like a fun game in the beginning, how long can you go before you beg her for food, until you are hugging her and ask her for anything to eat in that desperate voice she loves so much.

But now the game isn't fun anymore, you have gone a week without food, Kafka actually feels fear right now, you look so bad right now, do you really wanna leave her that badly, well to bad she won't let you. She will chew the food herself and kiss you, forcing the chewed up food down your throat, you aren't leaving her, not now and not ever.

"Well played darling, but just because you won doesn't mean I will let you go."

Venti: What do you mean free, don't you see all the space you can move around, there is so much to explore at stormterror's lair. Venti is confused when you refuse to eat, isn't it delicious, did he do a bad job.

After the 3rd day of you not eating Venti will fall to his knees, begging you to eat, please, you are becomming skinnier, he needs you to eat. He can't let you leave but tell him any other request and he will oblige, and if you still won't eat he will force food down your throat when you are sleeping.

"Good, good. Keep eating and become healthy again, your mortality scares me so much, I wish I could just remove it"