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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

Text

•Don't Say His Name•

Summary: This is a part two to Forget That Extra! There will at the very least be a third part, since this one ends unresolved and I have SO MUCH of the story left in my brain.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (both Bakugo and Reader are aged up to 18+)

Warnings: Rough sex, degredation, impact play, ddlg terms, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, a sprinkling of knife play, fingering, ruined orgasm, Dom Bakugo, Brat/masochist reader, tiny bit of angst.

Word Count: 6,115

Part One • Part Three

A/N: As far as tagging goes, I tagged those that commented on part one, and those that liked the post about this part. If you would like added/removed just let me know!

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You walk down the hallway with all the confidence in the world. "You're my woman now." He had said. Katsuki Bakugo's woman. That's you. Walking through his agency covered in bruises he had left, and only he could see. It makes your insides twist and spark with excitement, the idea of belonging to that explosive hero.

You're on your way to his office now, coffee in hand as you try to make an effort at being an actual partner instead of just his play thing. You made sure to get the right kind of milk and sugar, and extra caramel of course. The past few weeks have been all about learning things like that, the little details about each other that exists outside the bedroom or a stuffy closet.

Just as you make the final turn to Katsuki's office, you see a wild flash of green hair and hear an excited voice say your name. A bright smile spreads across Deku's boyish face, cheeks all pink and freckled. He's all dressed up in his hero costume as he bounces towards you before speaking again.

"Hey! On a coffee run for the boss man?" He jokes, nodding at the hot drinks in your hands.

The boss man, right, he's your boss. He should definitely not have been in your guts less than twelve hours ago, and you definitely shouldn't have his teeth marks on your body.

"Oh yeah, either gotta keep him caffeinated or pick up pieces of exploded furniture, and I much prefer the coffee runs to clean up duty." You laugh with him, both of you knowing Bakugo's temperament far too well.

As you laugh your shoulders move a little too much and the strap of your bag falls off, catching on your elbow and nearly jostling the coffee to the point of falling out of the drink carrier.

Deku's reflexes are like lightning as always, before you can object he's taken the coffee as you slip the strap back onto your shoulder. Your cheeks flush as you mumble a bashful thanks then reach for the coffees.

"No I got it, let me walk with you." He says, "Can't risk dropping the precious cargo."

You both share another chuckle as you anxiously adjust your top, trying to tuck it more securely into your plaid skirt.

"Thanks, Deku, I would've been in for it if I had lost that drink."

You both take off down the hall at a rather lazy pace, sharing some pleasant small talk about your days. You find out that he actually just left Katsuki's office, they were going over some boring publicity stuff for their agencies. As you walk you find yourself laughing a lot, especially at Deku's impression of a very grumpy Katsuki.

You've only met Izuku Midoriya a handful of times, mostly in passing like this. Without fail, he's always kind and charming. He's the kind of person that leaves anyone he meets with warm, vanilla tasting feelings.

"Can I ask you something?" He says with a small voice.

"Of course you can." You say as you come up to the door of Katsuki's office.

"This might be a little out of line, and I completely understand if you wouldn't want to, I just- I was uh- I guess I was w-wondering if you maybe would consider grabbing coffee with me?" He trips and stutters his way through his invitation, and goodness it's so fucking cute.

You're floored honestly, of course you'd love to get coffee with him, it's harmless right? It could be, if you make it clear that you're with Bakugo. That's the problem though, being employed by him means you two can't be public about being together. That shit gets messy fast, so you've been sworn to secrecy.

"You're busy though, so I totally understand if you just can't find the time or if you just don't want to or whatever. I just figure you might like actually having coffee with somebody instead of being sent to get it for them, if that makes any sense… s- sorry… this sounded a lot better in my head." As he talks he fidgets with his hands and shifts his feet a little, emerald eyes searching your face for some form of an answer.

"Deku, I'd love to." You say sweetly before he can open his mouth and fumble through more words.

His shoulders drop and his face relaxes.

"Is six tonight ok? We can just meet here so you don't have to give me your address or go to my place, I know that can be uncomfortable sometimes so I figure meeting at a public place would probably make you feel safer- I guess if we-"

"How about you just text me the address of the coffee place you had in mind?" You say gently, interrupting as politely as you can.

You try to keep your voice down, a creeping feeling snaking up your spine. It feels wrong to be making plans like this right in front of your boyfriend's office, if you can call him that. There hasn't really been a lot of discussion about the exclusivity of the relationship, just that he hated the idea of you belonging to anyone else, and that he hadn't been with anyone else… maybe that talk needs to happen soon.

"Huh? Oh, yeah that's a good idea, I would just need to uh- if I wanted to text you I would need-"

"My number?" You giggle as you pull a sticky note and a pen from your bag.

"Uh, yeah, that would be it." He laughs nervously.

You quickly scribble down your number, your heart climbs to your throat as you offer him the paper.

"I'll trade you." You say, nodding to the coffees before sticking the note on his chest.

An adorable blush spreads across his already rosey cheeks.

"Oh yeah, boss man needs his caffeine." He says as you take them.

Just as you accept the drinks back, the office door opens slowly. The twist of the knob makes your chest tighten.

"Oh, there you are. You were taking so long I thought you'd gotten lost." He says gruffly before taking the drink you hold out for him.

His words bite you a little, but you have to just take it for the sake of appearing uninvolved.

"I thought you were leaving?" He asks Deku with a pointed gaze.

"Oh, Kacchan I was, I just uh-"

"He was helping me, I almost dropped the coffee and he was kind enough to carry them for me." You jump in, trying to defuse the tension building between the men in front of you.

You know bits and pieces of their old rivalry, only those that Bakugo let slip. For the most part they've out grown the school yard beef, but Katsuki is competitive, territorial, possessive. You know that it's grinding his gears knowing Deku was there to help you, which might be a fact you can have some fun with.

"So, six works for you?" You ask Izuku, voice laced with honey.

"Oh! Yeah, yeah six is great, I'll see you then." He says, folding the note with your number before sticking it in his pocket.

"I'll see you then, and thank you for the help." You smile, earning a sweet grin from him as he awkwardly shuffles away.

"Oh of course, it's never a problem! Bye Kacchan, thanks again for the meeting!" He damn near hops off down the hallway before disappearing around the corner.

Slowly, you turn to face your lover, apprehension written all over your face. He just sneers down at you before turning sharply into his office. You stand and watch him stalk to his desk, slightly scared to move.

"Get your ass in here, lock the damn door behind you." He says flatly before taking a sip of coffee.

You do as he says, letting the door close quietly before flipping the lock.

"So, I'm assuming you won't be joining me for dinner?" He says as he relaxes into his large desk chair.

"What? No, we can get dinner, I'm just grabbing coffee with Izuku." You explain, trying to sound nonchalant.

You take a nervous glance around his office, and a fond feeling blooms in your chest. It's organized chaos, as he calls it. The desk is covered in little travel tools and makeshift gadgets. He loves to tinker when he can't focus, he says it gets his mind back to a place where he can. He's talented too, could honestly run a whole side business on his creations alone.

The one time you proposed it he shut it down fast, he said he had enough jobs to do, that he wanted to keep his tinkering from becoming work. It brings the smallest smile to your face, but you're ripped away from your dreamy thoughts by the sound of his rough voice.

"First name basis, I see." He mumbles before taking another sip.

You can't help but roll your eyes. It's difficult to discern if he's genuinely irritated by you meeting Izuku, or if he's just trying to egg you on. Either way, you're going to have some fun with it.

"Well people don't usually call their friends by their hero names, do they?" You question as you walk around his desk so you can lean your backside against the edge.

Katsuki turns his chair to face you, glancing over your body once before finding your eyes. His gaze lingers on the undone buttons at the collar of your black top, revealing what you think is a tasteful amount of decolletage.

You sip your own coffee as he analyzes you, seemingly taking the bait.

"Friends?" He asks quietly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ya know, someone who gets coffee with you instead of sending you on an errand to get some for them?" That was a bold move that will inevitably come back to bite you, but that's exactly what you want.

All of his fine muscles shift and tighten under his well tailored dress shirt as he leans forward in his chair. He places his elbows on his knees, and folds his hands under his chin as he glances up at you through his eyelashes.

A tense moment is spent between you, your chest lights up with nerves just a little bit. You hate it when he's quiet, he's much easier to read when he's mouthy.

"Sounds fun!" He says with far too much enthusiasm as he shoots up from his chair. Before you can reply, he's put his whole body in front of yours. He sets his hands on the desk behind you, efficiently caging you in.

Just like that, the air is hot and thick between you. He looks down his nose at you, waiting for you to answer. His eyes scream "try me" and it makes you dizzy. When you feel his hands slide over your knees, your head spins even more.

Willingly, you let him spread your legs open so he can settle his hips between them. As he moves in your skirt bunches up, revealing where your socks end to expose the thickest part of your thighs. Like a moth drawn to a flame, his hands are on the skin instantly. For some reason, that part of your leg, specifically when they're spilling over some snug thigh highs, makes Bakugo absolutely feral.

"So you don't care if I get coffee with him?" You ask, bringing your hand to tilt his chin up.

Reluctantly, he rips his eyes away from your legs so he can glare at you.

"I don't give a fuck who you get coffee with." He shrugs before sliding his hands up so he can grab your hips with greed.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed by how little he cares. Where's the guy that fucked your brains out because you simply talked to another dude? You're practically going on a date and he's just… fine with it?

"-But if you're going to get coffee with that damn nerd-" He ducks down and brazenly licks a hot strip up the side of your neck.

The sudden contact makes your eyes flutter as your chest deflates, a shock of heat already thrumming through your core.

"You're gonna do it covered in marks…" He abruptly scrapes his teeth against your throat, easily biting hard enough to create a bruise, as if you don't already have enough.

"... And filled with my cum." The statement makes you gasp, there he is.

His fingertips dig into your hips as he pulls you forward on the best, bringing your crotch flush against his while he looks down at you with a patient expression. The feeling of his hard-on pressing against your core will never get old, it never fails you send shocks up your spine and make your cheeks hot.

You're feeling spunky today, dangerously bold. A terrible idea creeps into your mind, wrapping it's fingers around your common sense.

You slide your hands up his abs, allowing yourself a moment to admire how sturdy he feels. Your hands secure themselves on the folds of his collar so you can bring his face back towards yours.

To mock him, you bring your mouth to his throat and let your tongue drag up his hot skin.

"That's funny." You say with a low voice before you plant a kiss right under his jaw.

"He said the same thing." You punctuate your lie with a nip to his skin.

"Oh you stupid woman." He huffs before he snatches you by the waist and hauls you off the desk. Your legs don't get the chance to hold you up, he spins you around and kicks the back of your knees with his shin, causing you to fall forward immediately.

Once you're kneeling he grabs the hair on top of your head and drags you along beside him. You yelp and grab at his wrist as you try to shuffle after him on your knees. He plants himself in his desk chair, not releasing his hold on your roots for a second.

He pulls your head back slightly, glaring down at you with furious ruby eyes. He looks so delicious like this, dressed in all black, hair and eyes wild as he plans how he'll break you.

His other hand comes up to grab your jaw a little too gently, eyes flashing down to where your skirt is still riding up.

"Are you trying to get hurt?" He asks calmly, thumb running over your chin.

"I'm trying to get fucked." You state simply, dropping your jaw open so you can take his thumb into your mouth.

He watches you carefully, breathing a little heavier when you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb before releasing it.

"-But if all you're gonna do is fuck around like this, I think I know somebody who might be up for the job."

All you can register is his face twisting as he realizes which way you're going, before the hand on your jaw pulls back. You brace for the slap, ready to feel the hot pain shoot across your face. Your thighs even clench a little in anticipation, but it doesn't come.

He just chuckles, laughs right in your face as he reaches for the drawer behind him, the hand in your hair releases too.

"Oh, I'm sure he would be." He pulls out a small black bag from the drawer, then slowly unzips it to reveal a wooden paddle.

You can't help but squirm where you sit as you watch him flip it in his hands before turning back to you.

"But there's no way in hell that prick can get you shaking like I can." He sets the paddle on his desk so he can start to roll his sleeves up.

You watch him carefully, nearly drooling over the way his strong forearms flex as he rolls the material of his shirt up. Your hands pull at the bottom of your skirt anxiously, needing to fidget with something desperately.

"I don't know about that, Suki, the shy, quiet ones are usually the nastiest, isn't that right?" You say coyly, trying to regain some control.

You're referring to yourself and he knows it. Hinting at how depraved you can be in the bedroom. You know he's right, he's the only one that can fuck you up the way you need it. It's fun to watch him twitch a little when you hint at Deku being able to compete with him, though.

"Get up here, bend over." He says shortly, neck and shoulders tense.

You're getting to him.

"I think I like it down here, I don't think I want to bend over just yet." You say with a deceptive sweetness.

Feeling bold, you slide your hands up the insides of his thighs, feeling the taught muscle under his dress pants.

Before you can reach his erection, his hands are latched onto you again. One in the back of your hair, the other crushing your throat.

"I fucking dare you, disobey me one more time. You will end up with a busted ass and a ruined orgasm, that's a fucking promise." He snarls at you, bending down so he can glare right into your soul.

His threats don't do a damn thing to calm your rebellious streak, if anything, it lights a fire under your desire to be the biggest fucking brat.

"The busted ass part doesn't sound too bad." You struggle to get the words out, working against the harsh grip on your throat.

He rolls his eyes before almost throwing you out of his hands. He sends one to the collar on the back of your shirt, and the other slides around the back of your thigh. With the new hold he roughly hoists you into his lap. You can't help but squeak when your stomach hits the tops of his thighs. Your knees barely touch the ground and your hands grab at the desk in front of you, trying to steady yourself.

He flips your skirt up and smooths a hand over the curve of your ass.

"Oh trust me, you'll fucking get it." He sends his hand cracking across your cheek, earning an involuntary moan from you.

Your body responds to the sharp pain immediately, cunt clenching and inevitably soaking your panties even more than they already are. You glance back at him as he rubs over the welt he's just created.

"These are cute." He says with a bored voice as he pulls at the string of your thong with one finger.

They're nothing special, a simple pink fabric thong. You didn't put on anything special since you were definitely not anticipating a situation like this to arise. A little foolish now that you think about it, given how many times he's grabbed you by the wrist and hauled in into some forgotten room for a quickie. Never in his office though, especially not during business hours.

Before you can quip back, he's pulling out his pocket knife. He grabs your skirt and hikes it up to your waist before he runs the point of the knife down your lower back. He uses the dull side of the knife, careful not to cut you, but the point of the blade still offers icy friction against your heated skin. Teasing you with the possibility that he could make you bleed.

You squirm in his lap as goosebumps raise all over your skin, pulling a deep breath in when he dips the blade under the waistband so he can flick it up, expertly slicing through the fabric. He makes quick work of it, cutting the pesky fabric out of the way so you're completely exposed to him.

"Does pissing me off always get you this wet?" He asks before flipping the knife away so he can run a finger slowly down your folds.

"That's from thinking about my date later."

That comment earns you a very sudden, very hard strike with the paddle. You bite your fist to muffle the cry that tears out of your throat, desperate to remain unheard by anyone outside of the office.

"Oh hell fucking no." Katsuki growls before quickly snatching up both of your wrists so he can pin them behind your back with the hand not wielding the paddle.

"You want to be a mouthy slut, so be it."

Another skin splitting hit to the other cheek. The pain is blinding, causing your body to jolt and twitch in his lap. You know your ass is going to be purple and welted for days, but there's not a chance you'll complain, because you absolutely love it.

"Is that all you got, sparky?" All you want is more, more bites, bruises, paddles. Anything Katsuki will give you, you'll take it with greedy, desperate hands.

"You're such a masochistic little bitch." His voice makes your pussy contract around nothing, then you feel the shameful sensation of your slick dripping down your thighs.

His hand comes up to grab at the reddened flesh of your ass, digging his fingertips in with a sneer. You feel his dick twitch against your stomach as you writhe from the sharp new pain he inflicts.

"You want me to touch you here?" He ghosts his fingers over your dripping core.

The tease is almost enough to make you break… almost.

"I'd rather save it for Deku."

There is no composed chuckle, no warning swat, not even a breath before you're shoved off of his lap so you can fall to the floor in a pathetic pile of bunched up clothes and desire.

You try to scramble to your knees, but the bottom of Katsuki's expensive dress shoe meets your sternum and forces you on to your back with a harsh push. He moves like a wolf, planting a knee on either side of your chest, caging your arms under his strong thighs. He leans over and seizes you by your shirt collar.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that right?" He barks down at you, eyes ablaze with disdain for your bratty antics.

"You're gonna choke on my cock for that one, smart ass."

You shouldn't get a thrill from such a nasty threat, but your mind spins and your body sparks.

He makes quick work of his belt and pants, shoving them down quickly to expose his straining cock. It never ceases to make your mouth water, every inch is perfect. He's thick and heavy looking with a beautiful curve that feels devine inside you.

"Open up, and don't try anything cute." He huffs before grabbing the hair on top of your head to bring you towards his dick.

He slides into your mouth with ease, sliding the underside of his head along your tongue. You have to drop your jaw pretty much all the way in order to fit him, but you always love that part.

"Look at me, watch me the whole time." He orders, fist grabbing a little more firmly at your hair.

He presses himself into the back of your throat, the taste of the precum he's smeared along your tongue finally hits your taste buds. You savor the taste, eyelids fluttering ever so slightly but never closing.

Your eyes meet his just as you remember to relax your throat and let him all the way in. He somehow slides down your throat even further, balls pressing into your chin. You can't stop the drool that spills from the side of your gaped mouth or the tears that prick at your eyes.

He grins down at you, predatory and ravaging. Your legs twitch as your hands slide up to hold his sides, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as he starts to set a slow pace with his hips.

It's not the merciless throat fucking you anticipated, but he did only just get started. Something deep in your chest resents the slow pace, something depraved inside you wants him to use your throat until you're heaving and sobbing.

You moan around his cock and try to convey desperation in your eyes as you watch him move above you.

"Oh you poor slut, I know you want more, but you haven't fucking earned it." He says as he presses all the way in again, but this time he holds it there.

You dig your nails into his sides and close your jaw around him a little more, teeth teasing the skin of his hard on. His lip twitches into a snarl like a dog about to snap. He snatches your nose with his fingers, closing off your airway. You don't panic, not even close. You just glare up at him, having played this game many times.

"Little miss composed, huh? How about now?" He presses impossibly far into the back of your throat.

For the most part, your gag reflex has been trained out of you, but somehow he hits it right away. You open your airway and attempt to gasp, a fruitless attempt since all you can do is choke on his shaft. He doesn't release the hold on your nostrils, just glares down while you struggle under him.

Suddenly, but not soon enough, he releases your nose and rips himself from your throat. You let him pull you along like a ragdoll as he settles back into his chair, pulling you to your knees as you sputter and gasp and cry. He grabs you by the hair at the back of your head with one hand, and by the jaw with the other, a hold he's always been fond of.

"Now, unless you want to keep choking on my cock, I suggest you remind me who's about to fuck the breath out of your lungs." He says, low and vengeful.

You're nowhere near ready to give in, all kinds of lust oozes through your body. It's spreading like molten lava, destroying every ounce of self control you've ever had.

You feel drool start to pool on your chest, becoming suddenly aware of how much you're salivating.

Oh what a terrible idea.

You spit right in his face, body moving before your mind has a chance to tell it to stop. For the first time since this all started, you feel a little bit afraid. You welcome it though, scarf it down and wish there was more. You're like an adrenaline junkie, and your addiction is the menacing way Katsuki is looking at you right now.

He slowly wipes the offense off his cheek bone, giving a small, astounded laugh before he brings the palm of his hand to crack across your face.

You cry out as your thighs clench beneath you, your body giving away just how much you adore being treated like this.

"Do it again, please fucking do it again, make my day, bitch." Katsuki barks in your face, hands starting to shake a little. He's losing his calm facade, which is exactly what you want. He just needs one final push.

You open your mouth, ready to retort, ready to mouth off like the miserable little brat you are. You don't get the chance though, the words are smacked right out of your mouth as he hits you again. The sharp pain sends another shock of desire straight to your weeping cunt. You cry out as your head snaps to the side.

You take account of the drool leaking out of your mouth, the tears dripping out of your eyes, the slick sliding down your thighs. You're burning up and your vision is becoming unreliable. It might be about time to give in a little, indulge poor, pissed off Suki. You've gotten enough of a beating, now it's time to stroke his ego and get what you want.

"P-please, Daddy, I'm s-sorry." You sniffle, glancing up at him with big, pitiful eyes.

You don't expect the third slap, it's white hot and full of venom. You know without a doubt you'll be sporting a shiner from the assault.

"You're a little liar. You're not sorry, you just want me to put my dick in that stupid little cunt." He's almost yelling, trembling a little more as he sneers down at you.

If he wasn't pissed before, he sure as hell is now.

Perfect.

"How else are you going to send me to Deku full of your cum? Or am I going to have to ask him to fill me up?" Do you ever know when to stop?

"On my desk, now." He doesn't give you a chance to move on your own, he hoists you up by your waist and sets you on his desk. The abused skin of your ass stings against the cool wood. He pulls you by the hips so your ass is sat right on the edge.

He presses his face into your neck as your arms fly around his shoulders. His hot, open mouth against your neck makes you feel so incredibly dizzy. The soft feeling of his tongue contrasting so intensely with how harsh he's been.

"You make me want to blast this whole building to pieces." He huffs against your neck, your hands find his hair and you feel just how sweaty he is.

He braces one arm on the desk as the other reaches up to move your skirt out of the way.

"God, you're filthy. I can fucking smell how soaked you are."

His teeth sink into your neck as he unceremoniously slips two fingers into you. No, he doesn't slip them in, he shoves them in.

"Suki- fuck-" You say before a moan sneaks out of you, falling on his greedy ears.

"Huh uh- you can't keep that prick's name out of your mouth, say his name. I don't want to hear your whore mouth say mine." He crooks his fingers perfectly as you gaze at him with disbelief. The pads of his fingers hit that sweet spot inside you, and all you want to do is cry out for him, cry out his name.

"N-no, please, let me say yours- shit- please!" You shiver when he brings the heel of his hand to press into your clit as he continues to play with your insides.

"Then are you sorry? Really fucking sorry?" He asks as he adds a third finger.

You clench down on him, hips rolling forward as you let out a sad little sobbing sound.

You nod up at him, struggling to find the right thing to say. Obviously, that's not enough for him. He rips his hand out of your hole and slaps your cunt with incredible force.

You cry out and try to bring your legs together, but Katsuki anticipates this. Grabbing the insides of your thighs, he forces your legs open, causing you to lose balance and fall so your back is flat on his desk.

"I'm sorry, I didn't fucking hear you." He says as he grabs his cock and starts to pump himself just inches from your burning center.

"I'm sorry, I am, I'm so sorry, Suki." You say urgently, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you can truly meet his eyes.

Your core just aches as you glance down at his hand stroking his erection.

His free hand comes down against your pussy again, making you jump and whimper. The sting is exquisite, but the throbbing in your walls overrides it.

"I don't believe you, give me one good reason I shouldn't blow my load all over your thighs and send you on your way." His hand picks up speed and you start to panic a little, he might go through with it. You've pissed him off enough, it can't end like this though, no way in hell.

As quickly as you can, you rid yourself of your shirt and your bra. You leave your skirt and your socks on, knowing that combination is a favorite of his. He watches you like a hawk as you lean back down onto your elbows, eyeing the fading bruises all over your chest and down your stomach.

"Because baby," You coo as you bring your fingers to your mouth, "you need me as bad as I need you." After wetting your fingertips, you bring them down to slide over your hardened nipple.

His hand falters slightly as he watches you play with yourself. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth when you tweak the sensitive bud.

"God- fuck- you little tease." He whines before shifting towards you.

In some ways, Katsuki is a simple man. All it takes it some teasing and some tits and he's a goner.

In the blink of an eye, his hands have a hold on the backs of your thighs as he folds you up. You feel the tip of his dick rest against your entrance and you almost scream.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, are you fucking sorry?" He's on his last leg of restraint, the grip on your thighs is absolutely bruising and you can see beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

"I am! I swear I am, I don't give a shit about him- I don't- fucking hell, Suki!" Before you can finish, his thumb is rubbing at your clit as he slides in.

Every nerve in your body responds as he does, you throw your head back and let yourself feel it completely. The drag along your walls is maddening. The second his head presses into your cervix you moan and twitch, and more tears pour from your eyes

"I'm going to make sure you are." He growls.

After he slowly pulls back, he fucks into you like it's the last time he'll ever get to. Every thrust in makes you see stars. You let a sob wrack your body as you claw at the desk.

"How would you feel if I couldn't stop saying some other bitche's name?" He says as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust.

Your stomach twists at the thought, jealousy claws at your insides.

"Makes your skin crawl doesn't it?"

"I didn't m-mean it, I'm s-sorry, sir." Your body rocks on the desk as his hips meet yours, so much rage behind his movements. You feel your body start to tighten, the nerves in your core start to get that wonderful warm feeling.

"Why do you keep doin' that shit then? Huh?" You feel a small twinge of guilt because of how genuine the question sounds, how there's just a hint of genuine confusion in his voice.

"Baby- I- fuck- I didn't mean it, I swear- shit, I'm so close." Your walls start to pulse around his cock, the rest of you starts to squirm.

"You want me to hurt you? Is that it?" He smacks the underside of your thigh after his question, earning a deep moan from you.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you hurt me." You admit, voice warbling as your orgasm approaches rapidly.

"Then just fucking ask me for it." Then he stops, stilling completely inside you. It's enough to drive you up a wall, your orgasm runs away from you. All of the building pleasure slips through your fingers.

"No no no! Suki please, I said I was sorry, I meant it, please I was so fucking close!" You beg as your fists hit the desk, almost throwing a tantrum.

"Maybe Deku can help you finish." He says shortly as he pulls out and starts to fuck his fist, with a groan and his head back, he finishes on your thighs as promised. You watch in horror as his release paints your skin white, his soft moans and sighs fall on your ears and it makes your heart sink.

He wastes no time in tucking himself back into his pants, making himself look composed in record time.

"I have a lot I need to get done this afternoon, clean this shit up and be home by eight." He says with a flat tone.

You just lay there dumbfounded as you watch him stalk out of the room without a glance your way.

You did it. You pushed too damn far. Katsuki never leaves you hanging like this. There's always a few gentle kisses, a few mumbled reassurances, it's never like this. Even when it was just quick fucks in a closet, Katsuki would offer you a few moments of comfort afterwards. You hit a nerve, you must have. Something far past you're usually bratty teasing.

The sound of the office door closing makes you flinch. You glare down at the mess he's left on you, eyeing the shredded remains of your panties on the floor. No way in hell you're going to coffee with Deku, not with the horrible feeling settling in your gut. You don't know if Katsuki will even want to talk to you, but you have to try, you have to make this right.

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@iloveitblackbhna @midnightartist @oblxvion @imonlymildlyinsane @kasumireads @nobody-says-hello @kibayoukai @michigood9618 @evierena @kimchi123n

#bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #mha smut #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo #bakugou x reader #dynamight #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder

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softlyjiminie · 4 years

Text

nine months from now | m.y.g

⇢ pairing(s): boss!min yoongi x reader, mentions of vmin + namjin.

⇢ word count: 16.5K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff, un-expecting parents!au, parents!au.

⇢ summary: his was not supposed to happen. this was never in the plan. a sudden, unexpected turn of events leads you into a world of baby bottles and baby grows, it just so happens that the cause of this mess is your boss...min yoongi.

⇢ warning(s): please read! mentions of infidelity, insecurity, unexpected pregnancy, light!description of birth ( pain, water breaking ), soft smut, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, unprotected sex ( please wear protection ), mentions of one night stands, mentions of drunk sex, phone sex, oral sex ( female receiving ), masturbation ( male + female ) , light!praise kink, pregnancy kink, daddy kink, dirty talk and swearing.

⇢ author’s note(s): hey everyone! this is a kinda late birthday fic for our wonderful boy min yoongi! i love parent aus and i just got to thinking about how yoongi would be the most amazing dad and boom dis bad boy popped out. I hope you enjoy reading and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! also thank you to my wonderful gigi ( @fantasybangtan ) for this beautiful banner, love you so much :(

one month. two blue lines.

this was not supposed to happen. this was never in the plan. you were supposed to work your ass off, show off your skills, get promoted and live a comfortable life. there was no time in your plan for this.

no time in your plan for a baby.

you feel as if the whole world has been drained away as you sit on the edge of your bath tub, your chest rising and falling with panic —you hadn’t even noticed, not until it was too late. your period had always been irregular, is it was easy for you to miss the signs. it couldn’t be happening. it can’t be happening. “how can this be happening?” you whisper to yourself, the lump in your throat makes your voice sound hoarse and weak.

“well, when two very special people love each other..” your roommate, yura, begun as she rests her head on your shoulder and grabs your trembling hand. she had always been a joker, much to the chargen of your half brother, seokjin.

“she knows how it works, yura! it’s the sex that got her there!” your sibling yells, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at you with a scolding disappointment. you’d never seen him so angry before, face red and the vein in his neck on the verge of bursting. you could tell he was trying to reign in his temper and you knew it was more than just rage he was feeling. seokjin had never known his farther, your mother was too ashamed to ever tell him and so he spent most of his life living with a hole in his heart. “do you even know who the father is?”

you flinch at his sharp tone, knowing it was only his self inflicted conflict that was so venomous. yura’s head snaps up to glare at seokjin, lips parted in shock at he continues his rant. “how irresponsible could you be, YN? getting pregnant at this time in your career, how could you be so stupid?”

“seokjin, enough!” yura snaps furiously, standing up with her hands resting comfortingly on your shoulders. she stares him down, rendering him silent and huffs. “YN is a grown woman...twenty-four years of age, meaning, you can’t scold her like a child anymore. it’s her body, her life and she’ll do as she damn well pleases. “

the sounds of their voices fade to nothing but static as they bicker back and forth about you. it’s almost as if you’re not even there, mind a million miles away. the mere thought of a life growing inside you has you spiralling and it’s not until seokjin puts a hand on your shoulder, that you look up.

“do...you know who the father is?” yura asks you quietly and avoids your gaze at his flits between hers and seokjin’s face.

“i do,” you twiddle your thumbs nervously, thinking back to the only occasion you can remember. you rub your eyes as they slowly begin to water, your brother and best friend nuzzling into you to help calm your nerves. “i know exactly who it is.”

seokjin and yura share a look, worried for the name about to pass your lips.

three months.

the walk to the top office is a brisk and daunting one. thousands of scenarios occupy your mind but you remember your brother’s advice and try to keep a steady head. you relax your stance as the elevator doors close in front of you, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. a hand comes to rest on your lower stomach, reaching for the bump that was barely visible.

you’d been to various different appointments over the last few weeks, blood tests, ultra-sounds and a paternity test. groaning, you remember the face of the assistant, her pointed nose tilted up in disgust when you begged her for any disgarded coffee cups the executive had lying around. all you needed was the tiniest trace of saliva to confirm your suspicions.

reaching your desired floor, you step out of the lift, and the sudden feeling of exposure crawls up your spine. patent heels click and clack against the smooth marble floor as you head to the front office. the light shines through the glass panes but it doesn’t lift your somber mood.

“i have an appointment with the executive?” you smile politely to the receptionist behind the desk and hand over your ID badge. she’s surprised, to say the least, when she checks it over and you can tell she’s unsure of how someone of your position would get an appointment on such short notice.

she lets you through regardless, mentioning to the executive that you’ll be up soon and too expect you. your once calm and collected walk is now weak and wobbly at your ankles, you shake as you knock on the door and quiver when a deep voice beckons you in.

the room is bright, illuminated by natural light that shines through the glass panes directly onto the office. it’s sleek, black accents run through out the room with shades of whites and yellows and greys for contrast. a long desk, also black in colour, sits in the middle of the room, in front of the largest window that looks out onto the busy streets of seoul. you wonder if people ever look up and try to imagine what would happen in a room like this. the though of what’s about to happen sends chills down your spine.

your patent heels sink into the carpeted floor, the softness and uneven ground do nothing to help your quaking knees.

MR. MIN YOONGI

the letters are engraved into the golden placement with thick, bold letters and reading it makes your heart race. the man himself is oblivious to your entrance, once deep red and burgundy hair having faded into his natural jet black roots. he wears a navy suit, tailored perfectly to fit his shoulders and his tie sits promptly around his neck, not a hair is out of place.

he hadn’t always been this perfect, you of all people would’ve known that. min yoongi was notorious in your company for his simple two step manoeuvre; flirting and fucking. whilst you had yet to fall victim to his charms, you knew to steer clear of him at company parties. yoongi had been a simple project manager at the daegu branch of your company, The Red Label, an up and coming fashion brand in south korea— before being unexpectedly promoted to executive to the seoul branch. you heard the last one had quit from heart break caused by the man himself.

you, yourself were a new fashion designer, fresh out of college when you joined. you were happy to say that your designs had been worn by many idols since you started your job, including the infamous jeon jungkook.

you remember meeting yoongi at the annual anniversary party, drunk memories of the night suddenly becoming more and more clear.

“yes?” he asks, looking up from his papers with a thin-lipped smile. he’s trying to be polite, you can tell, but you hate the way his black eyes watch you with discontent. you doubt he recognises you, remembers what went down a few months back.

“hi...” you breathe, the anxiety from your thoughts rushing in. yoongi simply stares you down, his dark eyes watching as you shuffle under his gaze. he leans back in his desk chair, boredom etched into his features.

“look ms. kim, i’m a busy man and have plenty of meetings to attend to today... so id prefer it if you didn’t go wasting my time.”

heat flushes through your veins and tingles at your fingertips, the words you had chanted to yourself in the mirror as practice have suddenly gone astray. you look to yoongi, his impatient stare boring holes into your very soul and you can tell he’s growing irritable.

yoongi opens his mouth again to start a simple attack. “as i have stated already, ms. kim, i am a busy man with many duties to attend to today, so if you don’t mind-“

you hate this, you hate him. you hate how he thinks he can talk to you like you’re beneath him. especially after what he did to you.

“i’m pregnant.” you blurt out, your rigid frame becoming lax as you realise what you’ve done. you watch as yoongi’s face contorts with confusion, what does this have to do with him? he must me thinking.

“why-?”

“it’s your child,” you snap back, suddenly gaining the roaring confidence seokjin had instilled in you many years ago. you march your way over to his desk, slapping down a file of all the tests you’d gotten, this paternity test with his DNA and his name in thick bold letters standing out on the white pages. “the documents are all here, if you don’t believe me.”

the colour drains from yoongi’s face as he realises the severity behind his once careless actions, he never thought this would happen, he always thought he’d been, “safe? didn’t we use a condom?” he mumbles quietly, embarrassed and ashamed.

“you insisted that we didn’t need one, you were too intent on getting your congratulations for your recent promotion.” you explain curtly, wrapping an arm protectively around your stomach.

it was only then that yoongi noticed, the small curve of your stomach that was carrying a life that he had helped to make. whether he wanted it or not, yoongi was going to be a father and he could tell by the fire in your eyes that you were going to do everything in your power to provide for this child.

he sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his face, letting it cup his chin as he thinks. “okay....okay, fuck. what do we do now?”

“well, i...” you hesitate, opening your mouth in a silent gasp. you step back from the desk and start to twiddle with your thumbs as you huff, nervous. “i don’t want this baby, my baby to grow up without a father. i’ve seen first hand how painful that can be. i also understand that, considering our circumstances, it might not be the best idea but i still believe you should take responsibility of a father and help look after them as well.”

your answer is thoughtful, none of your words are fuelled by malicious intent. you want the best for the baby, your baby, his baby. yoongi’s heart clenches in his chest, his baby.

“when’s your next appointment?” he asks in a whisper, a million and one thoughts rushing through his head at once. you look surprised, expecting yoongi to try and pay you off and keep quiet.

“next monday.”

“good, i’ll be there.”

three months, one week.

“is there any particular reason in which you’re not letting me attend today?” your brother hums, your only thought from then is to only roll your eyes as you pack your bag. phone, keys, purse. seokjin watches as you flutter about, fluffing your hair and straightening the sweater you wear, so it sits over your small bump just fine.

shaking your head, you attempt to hide the nerves that crawl up your throat in fear of spewing them all out onto the floor. you’d blame it on early morning sickness. your older brother eyes you suspiciously, dark brow arched perfectly as a finger rests on his top lip. he knows you like the back of his hand, everything there is to know about you. he knew you were excitable when it came to things like new music or watching re-runs of americas next top model. he knew you were shy with physical contact and intimacy. he knew that sometimes you got so anxious and scared, especially with deadlines that your words became jumbled up and you’d forget your name.

he knew why you were being so quiet today.

you ignored him nonetheless, looking ever so slightly flustered once you’d finished getting yourself ready. you hadn’t felt this way since you’d submitted your first design to the Red Label.

“are you sure? i know you hate all the machines and the gel the put on your tummy-“ the elder rambled and watched you collapse onto the couch beside him, you clasp your hands over his knee and sigh at him. clearly exhasperated.

“yoongi is coming,” you grumble eventually, curling in on yourself with a large pout. seokjin narrows his eyes, ever since finding out and confirming that yoongi was the father, he had been far from happy. seokjin remembered referring to the man as a pompous piece of poop, except more foul language was used. “i know you don’t like him, but we decided to try this co-parent thing? i’m just nervous that he’ll want to drop out as soon as he sees the baby-“

frowning, your brother shuffles over to you and presses a light kiss to your forehead as an attempt to comfort you. “and if he does, we’ll figure it out together. promise.”

you nod in affirmation, leaning into seokjin’s touch. he gets up to check the door a while later, calling out for you confusedly. “YN, there’s someone here to see you?”

following his voice, you find yourself side by side with your brother, facing a man about your age if not younger. he’s dressed formally, in a black suit and white shirt, a bow tie around his neck. he offers you a boxy grin and you frown.

“who are you?”

“ah, you must be YN.”

“yes, she is, but who are you?” seokjin cuts in before you can open your mouth, moving stand protectively in front of yourself and the baby. confused, you’re eyes widen and you shuffle back in the doorway to protect yourself further.

the man’s enthusiastic grin drops slightly as he readjusts his tie, coughing and holding his hand out to your older sibling. “taehyung, kim taehyung...” he introduces himself and falters when seokjin doesn’t take his hand. “i’m mr min’s driver, he sent me to collect ms. kim for her appointment today.”

“driver? collect my sister? why i oughta-“

you set a palm on your brother’s chest and push him back lightly, smiling at taehyung as you do so. “jinnie,” you warm him and ignore his angry stare before addressing the driver. “i’ll be ready in a moment, taehyung.”

quickly, you run back into the apartment to grab your bag and coat, returning fully dressed and ready to go. taehyung is already waiting with the door open by the car outside. you turn to your brother and hum. “i’m mad at him too, for sending a driver, but at least let me rip him a new one myself.” you say, breathlessly.

“with pleasure.”

“a driver, really, min yoongi?”

you storm past the man himself, anger flaring up within you at just the sight of his stupid designer suit and stupid pointed leather shoes that were probably imported from italy. he‘s a stupid man. who even wears a suit to a hospital appointment?

yoongi stands flabbergasted, hands up in defence whilst taehyung only shrugs his shoulders and mentions he’ll be parked in the private area. the executive quickly follows you, surprised that you can even walk that fast with growing life inside of you and bends over with palms on his knees when you stop at the receptionist desk.

“i didn’t think it was smart of me to delay the appointment by meeting you at your own home, ms. kim.”

rolling your eyes, you lean up to the receptionist, ignoring the way your name rolls so greasily off of yoongi’s tongue. “appointment for YN kim? 2:30.” you beam down at the man behind the desk, who’s eyes light up when they notice you.

“YN! lovely to see you again, you’re right on time!” he hums and checks you in on the computer as you spare a quick glare to the man behind you. the receptionist follows your gaze and leans in to whisper. “is this the baby father?”

a light chuckle wafts past your lips and you nod as you tie the appointment slip from him. “why yes hoseok, he is.”

“how unfortunate that his personality doesn’t match his looks.”

you giggle and bid hoseok goodbye, walking down the hall to your doctors office for your ultrasound. yoongi mostly follows and stays quiet, sensing the anger and resentment you have for him, building. he sighs in the waiting room, knowing that he has to find some way to get a long with you and change your impression of him for the sake of his child.

“miss kim for her ultrasound? oh and is that dad?” your doctor asks as she leads you into the room, helping you onto the bed and allowing you to push up your jumper for the jelly. yoongi feels a pang of guilt resonating in his chest, knowing that he should be the one helping you, but stands awkwardly to the side nonetheless.

shuffling up on the seat, you look to yoongi expectantly to introduce himself and he jumps up, fixing his suit as he leans forward to take the doctor’s hand. “min yoongi...uh... dad.”

“dr park, or you can call me dr jihyo,” she smiles, getting ready to apply the jelly to your stomach. “you know the drill YN, it might be a little cold,” yoongi watches quietly as you nod in confirmation, flinching when the cool substance comes into contact with your tiny bump. “alright! good job mum! let’s get you all set up.”

it takes a few minutes for dr park to set up the monitor, using a device that yoongi doesn’t recognise to scan for what he assumes is the baby. yourself and the doctor chat idly, and yoongi realises how scary it must’ve been to do these things on your own for the first time. his train of thought is cut off by the sound of a steady, tiny heartbeat filling the room.

that’s his baby, your baby.

“your baby sounds nice and healthy,” dr park hums happily, tilting the device to get more of a view of your little peanut. she points her finger on the screen and turns back to smile at you. “here they are, hiding from us.”

you giggle happily and for a split second, beam over at yoongi as you witness the life you’ve created together. “is that our baby-?” yoongi half whimpers, taking a step forward to take your hand in his. you jump at the feeling, his change in attitude but appreciate the support nonetheless, on the edge of tears yourself.

these last view weeks had been daunting, life changing, but seokjin and yura had been there for you every step of the way. holding your hand and coming with you to check ups.

“yes sir! i’m going to print out some pictures of the scans for you both, while we’re here, would you like to know the gender of your baby?” she asks politely and taps away on her computer.

“no, thank you.”

“yes, please.”

you send a glare yoongi’s way, fired up inside as he matches the look.

“yes!”

“no!”

the tension thickens in the room, so much so that a knife wouldn’t be able to cut through. dr. park stands from her chair, arms up to ease you both and coughs for your attention. “how about i print those pictures and you two can decide when i come back?” she suggests as you rip your hand from yoongi’s, who feels the walls build up around you again.

“that’d be great, thank you doctor.” he hums, watching as the doctor leaves the room before turning to you with a deepest scowl. “what was all that about, ms. kim? you were acting like a petulant child.”

you growl deeply, sitting up and wiping yourself clean of the cold jelly. you pull down your sweater and turn to look at the man with a dark frown. “me? a child?” you tsk, looking him up and down. “i didn’t see you taking any initiative when it came to the baby until wanting to know its sex! as far as i’m concerned, mr. min, you’ve acted as nothing more than a sperm donor i actually have to see,” you spit, ignoring the pang of guilt you feel when yoongi visibly flinches at your words. “and for the love of god, it’s YN.”

“well, YN,” he starts to argue, brushing off the hurt. “this is a first for me too, and if we’re going to make it work we have to compromise. i get it, i haven’t been much help or support but i am trying to get better, for you and the baby.”

you falter, you know that you have been tough on him but he is also making an effort by even showing up at all. sighing, you look to yoongi thoughtfully. “you’re right and I am sorry for lashing out, but this is one thing i won’t change my mind on. we have many decisions to make together, but this one i need for myself.” you say, rubbing your arm sheepishly.

“that’s fine, we can make that work.” yoongi smiles softly, to which you can’t help but return.

five months.

some would be shocked at the progress yourself and yoongi had made, having a baby really changed people. yoongi was much sweeter now, having dropped most of the formalities in favour of your ‘beautiful’ name, or so he called it. the executive brought you lunch almost everyday, left snacks and sweet notes to aid your cravings and ease your hormones.

yoongi even offered to send you money for groceries, claiming he wanted the baby to have a healthy lifestyle from early on. of course you refused it, whilst you loved the support you were getting from him, it sent chills down your spine at how fast he’d changed.

“but what’s so wrong about that?” yura asks you one night. the pair of you are both cuddled up under heaps of blankets, your feet on her lap as she munches on the kale chips yoongi had given you that day. she inspects the green crisp for a moment, blinking before popping it on her tongue and crunching happily. “free food? comfier clothes? a driver? sounds like the life to me, YN.”

you snatch the bag of chips away from your roommate, knowing it’ll spoil her appetite before your brother brings over dinner. peeking into the bag yourself, you swipe a few of the healthy snack for yourself, grimacing at the taste. what kind of sane person combines kale and chips? who? and it didn’t help that your cravings had kicked in.

“there’s nothing wrong with it, i just don’t want money spent on me.” you whine and pout, shoving the chips away from yourself.

yura only rolls her eyes and flicks your forehead. “but the moneys not for you it’s for miss yura junior over here!” she coos, raising her voice by a few octaves to talk to your bump. you watch with furrowed brows and a slight grimace as your roommate continues to make sounds horrifyingly similar to breeding cats.

“please, stop.”

“nono, she loves it.”

just at that moment, seokjin makes his entrance with bustling bags carried by his poor boyfriend- namjoon. you push yura away from your bump in order to make an effort in reaching namjoon but he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“you mean, he,” your brother comments and settles himself in the kitchen to prep you a meal. “i can already tell, that little critter in there is a boy and none of you can convince me otherwise.” he insists loudly, causing namjoon to roll his eyes.

“maybe YN’s results will...” yura turns to you with a mischievous glint, itching her fingers up your side knowing full well how ticklish you were. you’d probably sock her in the face with how much you wriggled.

“and there’s not a chance that either of you will find out, i’m under strict instructions to keep the results from you. all of you.” namjoon interjects pointedly, sagging into the seats and rubbing his arms from all the shopping your brother made him carry. yura sticks her tongue out at him. “now what’s this about baby daddy money?”

pulling the blankets up to your chin, you sigh, pouting over at namjoon. namjoon was like a second elder brother to you, quiet and helpful much unlike seokjin. you suppose that’s why the pair made such good partners, they balanced each other out well. “yoongi has been sending things over to help take care of myself and the baby but, it’s too much!” you huff and throw yourself back into the couch, sinking in and away from the world. “he even moved my desk at work, closer to his!”

joon tilts his head, looking at you with a knowing smirk and taps his nose. “sounds like this yoongi guy has a thing for you.”

“nuh uh, never, nada...nope!” you counter, shaking your head. there’s no way in hell yoongi could possibly feel that way about you. your hook up was a one time thing and you didn’t quite match up to the other girls he hooked up with at the office. “never in a million years. not possible.”

“you never know, YN,” he hums back, shrugging nonchalantly. “yoongi could be everything you least expect.”

you lose yourself in namjoon’s the words, thinking deeply as seokjin starts to being out the dinner trays.

“can you believe, min yoongi put a baby in her?”

“i want to know how his dick even got up just by looking at her.”

your skin crawls with discomfort as you enter the break room, your co-workers instantly silencing. this was common, for them to make you the subject of their idol chit chat. of course with your sudden pregnancy and yoongi’s newfound favouritism for you during meetings and overall, it only made sense for everyone to put two and two together.

jealous female coworkers didn’t like the idea that min yoongi didn’t want to hook up anymore, he wanted to focus on the one thing more important than his job.

he wanted to focus on you.

so now you were YN KIM, the red label’s pregnant whore. katie’s words, not your own. she was a new international relations employee from overseas, working with your departments new collection to debut in the US market.

you loathed her.

“good morning, YN,” she beamed, flicking her bleach blonde locks over her shoulder and pursed her lips the tacky barbie pink lipstick on. her insect eyes shift up and down your frame, making you curl in on yourself uncomfortably. “you’re looking a little bloated today.”

you bite your lip in an effort to stop it from quivering, holding your bump protectively as you wait for the kettle to boil for some tea. “i’m pregnant.” you mumble quietly as a line of defence, wincing as katie and her minions let out high pitched, squeaking laughs.

“are you sure? it seems like you’ve put on a few.”

gasping, you drop the mug you were using for tea and bite your lip, desperate for the tears not to fall. as quickly as you can, you shuffle out of the dreaded break room and ignore the ugly chuckles of your coworkers, making a break for the bathrooms.

bursting into the room, you brush past whoever’s about to leave and dash to the taps to splash cold water over your hot, tear stained cheeks. you hope to god that no one is here to see your snotty faced, crying session but your biggest nightmare only comes true when a warm hand settles on your shoulder.

“hate to break it to you sweetheart, but i don’t think this is the little ladies room,” you pout through your tears as you turn to face the voice, absolutely mortified when you notice them to be jimin. the blonde offers you a small smile that drops when he notes your sniffling, immediately replacing his expression with a look of concern. “ah! YN? are you alright?”

clearly not, you think but allow jimin to grab you some tissues and dab at your tears. jimin was a sweet boy, a fresh face around the company since he was hired to replace yoongi’s assistant (she had quit for undisclosed reasons.). the boy was smartly dressed, always in a blazer and woven sweater. he wore circular specs that always slid down his nose, but his golden weaved hair was always pushed back in away that had the ladies drooling.

“what happened?” jimin asks quietly, helping you fix your makeup to a presentable state. his touch is gentle as he dabs under your eyes, looking at you earnestly.

“promise you won’t tell yoongi?”

“pinky!”

you sigh heavily when the man steps back, offering him tired smile with puffy eyes. “the inernational relations girl has turned every one of my coworkers against me, ever since she found out that yoongi was too committed for hookups...” you mumble sadly, gesturing to your bump as jimin follows your gaze.

the blonde steps forward, grabbing your hands and holding them tight as he shakes his head. “they’re just jealous!” he exclaims, making you jump slightly. “i would be too if i was one of them, you’re a beautiful girl YN, with a beautiful baby coming along. if they’re going to be mean about it, they can fuck themselves because yoongi sure ain’t.” he finishes with a triumphant smile, looking down at you.

jimin is a sweetheart, and having only seen him around the office you know that you have someone trustworthy on your side for now. “thank you jimin, so much for your kind words.”

the blond only tilts his head, offering you a crescent moon eyed smile. “anytime, YN! now let’s get you back on that office floor.” he beams and takes your hand, leading you back to your desk, much to the dismay of all the other girls.

“repeat that again.”

“i fired her.”

yoongi punctuates every word, teeth grit as he spits them out. it’s almost as if thinking about the incident makes him angry, which of course it does, grown women bullying the mother of his child.

you sit straight faced in yoongi’s office chair, the doors are locked and the curtains open widely. the pale light of the clouded seoul sky brightens up the dark scowl on his face, as it caresses the curve of his pink lips and slope of his nose. shaking your head, you watch as yoongi fixes his suit and makes his way over to you. his steely, copper eyes are locked on your smaller frame as he flattens his palms out on the desk before you.

he really is mad and you can’t blame jimin for telling yoongi the truth.

“why?” you gasp with parted lips, looking up at yoongi with innocent eyes in hopes of ridding him from his scowl.

the man himself leans down close to you, his face within an inch of yours and his lips deathly close to your own. his breath is warm against your top lip, and you force your gaze upwards into his dark, liquorish eyes. “you know why, YN. there’s no way i’m going to have the women in this office harass you for my actions, for carrying my baby.” he seethes, tone contrasting with the forefinger and thumb he uses to gently tilt your chin up so you face him.

“if that’s the case, then you should have fired the whole floor.” you say meekly and gulp, this was the most yoongi had ever touched you since that night you spent tangled in each other’s arms, while he passionately ground his hips into- YN! you’re getting sidetracked! of course, aside from the occasional hand at the waist or on your bump to guide you.

“i would, for you.”

the line sends shivers down your spine and you bite your lip, lowering your gaze.

yoongi smirks down at you, letting you go gently and you’re left wondering how much power he really has in this company. the executive pulls up a chair beside you, grabbing your hand after a beat of silence. “YN, I’ve been doing some thinking, and i believe it would be best for you and the baby to move in with me in my penthouse down town,” yoongi explains simply, as your brows furrow in confusion.

“of course we’ll get a bigger place when he or she arrives, but i’ll take care of that and in the meantime i think it would also be in our best interest for you to quit your job here.”

“excuse me?”

yoongi hums absentmindedly. “i asked you to-“

“no i heard what you said, it’s absolutely ridiculous yoongi!” you cry and tear your hand from his, the deep set frown on your face growing into an ugly glare. the man simply sits back in his chair, confused. “you think just because i have your child inside of me, i’m going to do everything you say? quit my job? i worked hard to be here, i sacrificed days and hours for this position and i’m not going to leave my hard earned job because you have money and because you can get want you want.”

he stands, pushing a hand through his dark hair and stepping towards you. you weren’t going to let this man intimidate you. “YN, i’m simply making a few suggestions that will make this pregnancy easier.” yoongi growls lowly, feeling the anger boil up inside of him. why couldn’t you see that he just wanted to help?

“christ, yoongi! why can’t you see that i have a mind of my own as well?” you mutter, the hot rage coursing through your veins becoming a muted frustration. anger isn’t good for the baby and you know yoongi only means well. defeated, you pick up your bag and nod over to the man before you. “i appreciate all the help you’ve given these last few months, but i’m not a doll like your other girls, yoongi, i’m human too.”

you mumble the last part, adding that you’ll take a few days off if it pleases him. as you leave the office, yoongi is left with the lingering feeling that he’s disappointed you yet again, wanting more than anything to fix this.

“YN, sweetheart! YN...please wait!”

your frown deepens and shoulders hunch over the kart at the sound of yoongi’s voice. if only you weren’t pregnant— maybe then could you run a little faster. the executive calls your name again, following after you as you turn the corner into the baby isle. all you wanted to do was shop, for your baby— undisturbed.

rolling your shoulders, you push the kart at a faster pace and try to focus your attention on the adorable little baby grows with a range of soft pastels. “YN...” you cease at yoongi’s whining tone, biting your lip as you start to count to ten. “YN, please.” one, two, three—

“please-“

“what? what yoongi?”

yoongi throws his hands up into the air in defence, blinking shortly. you sigh in defeat and stop the kart in front of the teething toys and give the executive a lazy once over— his fit is different to what you would typically see him in, aside from his gucci and dior fabric suits. today he dons a tight fitting black t-shirt and casual black jeans that hug his thighs deliciously. breathing in deeply through your nose, your eyes flicker back up to meet yoongi’s sheepish honey ones, you nod to him to continue.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes hesitantly, debating whether or not he should reach out and touch you. “i’m sorry for making you feel like i was taking your career away from you. i know how much this job means to you and also how hard you worked for it...” the executive bites his lip and watches earnestly as you quirk you’re brow, cocking your hip as if to say ‘oh really, min yoongi?’. the man himself knows that you mean business and chooses his next words carefully. “what i’m trying to say, is that i was out of line. just because we’re having a baby together, doesn’t mean i have a right to dictate your life.”

the brunette looks down, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. you hum happily and take a baby grow off of the shelf, smiling at the words embroidered into the soft white fabric. ‘daddy’s number one fan.’

“you can make it up to me by pushing around this kart,” you wink and dump the tiny clothing into the object itself. “it’s heavy.”

yoongi smiles gratefully, lifting his head and gripping the kart. “anything for you, darling.”

seven months.

“so what kind of gender reveal are we doing? cake, balloons—ooooh! confetti!”

eyes rolling, you set the small box of collectible doohickeys on the smooth glass tables of yoongi’s fancy, four bedroom apartment. it was a place uptown with views of cotton candy sunrises, baby blues and pinks that swirled with light oranges just above vast greenery. yoongi had bought a year or two again with no use but now it was being made into a space for you, himself and the baby— right after you agreed to move in with him.

yura is perched in the plush leather couch, fur blankets draped over the backs that you eye suspiciously— you’re sure that when the baby comes, they’re something that you’ll have to replace, in fear they’ll be stained with baby fluids. “YN...” she sings with her pen between her teeth, she’d been planning your baby shower since you’d been too wrapped up with OB appointments and settling in with yoongi.

as you blink, you pick up a small snow globe from one of your family vacations with seokjin— tilting your head with a sly smile. “you know there isn’t going to be a gender reveal,” you put the globe down. would go nice with the kitchen? you’d have to put it out of the little one’s reach, though. “not until the baby is born, yura.”

“what’s happening to yura when the baby’s born?”

“you guys are so lame.” the girl in question scoffs, kicking her feet in defeat as she gives you an exaggerated sigh. yura pokes an unsuspecting yoongi in the chest as he enters the room with one of the final boxes before; she skips out to help your brother and his boyfriend with the rest. soaring a glance, you notice that ‘kitchenware’ is scrawled across the brown cardboard in the executive’s messy chicken scratch— something about the man that you’ve come to adore over the last few months. yoongi had done many things for you and the baby, so you knew moving in with him would give him some sense of security— and it made you feel much better.

yoongi looks up at you, confused as you start to giggle— moving to help him unpack the pretty marbled dishes you’d picked out with him. “why are we the lame ones?” he says with a pout, whiny tone like music to your ears.

“she’s still not over our decision to keep the baby’s gender a secret,” you raise your brows in a knowing look, reaching over and grabbing the executive’s hand sweetly. “she wanted to do a gender reveal.”

“we still could,” yoongi teases you playfully, as he uses your intertwined hands to twirl you into his chest so that he could hug you from behind. you shake your head with a bubble of laughter at the dark haired man’s antics— only quieting down when his hands slip down to your bump. a comfortable silence sweeps over you both, nothing but the sounds of your anticipating breathing filling the little space between you. another beat of silence passes before you feel the light tremor of feet and hands from the bump. “there they are.”

the pair of you spend the next few moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, waiting for your little treasure to kick and push at your tummy— but to your dismay, yoongi makes a quick departure after receiving a call from the board. for you, work had been slow and difficult as your pregnancy progressed whilst yoongi’s grew busier and busier as the season deadlines approached. you’d decided to take your leave, finding it harder to keep on your feet while your ankles begin to swell and your joints became sore— yoongi of course, was relieved.

“you two are getting affectionate.” namjoon comments, sliding into the room after your boss has left. you roll your eyes and make a move to sit on the plush couch, your little one becoming too excited.

the elder male quickly rushes over, taking your hand as he helps you to sit— you smile gratefully as thanks. “we’re just friends.”

“friends who‘re having a baby together.”

biting your lip, you pause your actions as an uneasy feeling spikes up within your chest. yoongi couldn’t possibly see you both as more than friends— he was in this for the baby and so were you. it didn’t matter that he sometimes kissed closer to your lips than normal or that he had a habit of making you blush. it didn’t matter that he called you sweet names, held your hand tight and was protective over you because mon yoongi wasn’t falling for you. was he?

or could it be, that you were falling for him?

namjoon’s brow creases with worry when your silence boarders on the edge of uncomfortable— making him take your hand in his, once more. “YN, are you okay? did i say something wrong-?”

“n-no i’m just...i’m just scared, joon,” you whisper, throat drying at your sudden realisation. the whole world feels as if it’s about the slip away from under your feet, the words you’re about to say— foreign on your tongue. namjoon looks up at you, the fear in his whiskey eyes reflecting your own. “i’m scared.”

“of what, YN?” the latter mumbles, concerned.

“of falling,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “of falling for min yoongi.”

min yoongi had come to realise that parties were never really his thing.

they were easier to enjoy when people were drunk off their minds and didn’t know what was up or what was down. but observing the gathering from the edge of the room— completely sober and nursing a glass of baby champ had shown min yoongi that he’d never really liked parties.

there were too many loud noises— the squealing from your friend and chatter from excited guests— and too many people, bodies closely packed in a tight space. at least when he was drunk, he was too out of his mind to care, but he was going to be a father now and taking care of his little humans meant taking care of himself.

after all, drinking is what brought him is little gift in the first place.

the only thing that makes the night more tolerable is the bright smile that you have plastered on your face. the executive grins when his gaze finds yours, you give him the sweetest of beams before turning back to conversing with one of your childhood friends. yoongi loves the way you look tonight; you’d settled on blush pink dress— one from a collection you’d designed yourself. he remembers how hard you’d worked to finish the designs before taking your leave, so he was adamant that you would wear the dress, the first of its kind. your hair frames your face perfectly, each curl falling perfectly into place— caressing your soft cheeks that are lightly dusted with a warm blush to compliment the shadows that paint your eyelids.

“you’re drooling, hyung...”

the dark haired male jumps at the smooth voice from behind him, a scowl replacing the loving smile that once tickled at his lips. yoongi spins on his heel, adjusting his tailored jacket as his driver, taehyung slips an arm around his shoulders. the two had known each other for longer than it might have seemed, the younger being one of the few people yoongi actually trusted. they’d met back in college, before yoongi had become a big hot shot, before he fell into the world of sex, alcohol and money.

they’d lost touch when yoongi moved from deagu to work in seoul, seeing taehyung working there as a driver had been a pleasant surprise. the royal blue haired boy hasn’t changed a bit, the only thing being that he’d started dating the printer boy, jimin— who the executive ended up promoting because he loved the two so much. they were a trio, a little circle of trust and yoongi’s home away from home.

but that didn’t stop the executive from cursing out his long time friend. “what the fuck taehyung?” yoongi hisses, pushing the driver lightly. he gives a brilliant laugh in response, as bright and as colourful as his head full of “do i look like some kind of fucking dog to you?”

jimin appears on yoongi’s left, wrapping his own arm around the older’s shoulder and linking his hand with his lover. oh god, the terrible two. who knew what mischievous they would get up to when together. “you do look like a puppy in love,” the blonde comments, tapping yoongi’s nose with his small pinky. he’s only a little bit tipsy, probably because of the whisky yoongi had caught them sneaking in. “woof woof.”

“if hyung was a dog, what breed would he be?”

“probably a chihuahua, small but...deadly.”

yoongi sighs, gaze switching between the two lovers as they squabbled over dog breeds excitedly. one, two, three, four— “do you need something?” he asks the pair, praying to heavens that they don’t and that they’ll leave him alone.

jimin giggles, the sound bubbling from between his lush lips. “we’re here to give you a pep talk.”

“you should tell her how you feel,” taehyung mumbles, clinging onto yoongi. affectionate and drunk. “you love her, everyone can see it.”

“no they can’t—“ yoongi protests, but it’s far too late. the intoxicated pair of lovers are already pushing him in your direction and he can feel his heart beating violently in his chest as he nears you. since when were you able to make him nervous? perhaps his long time friends were right, the executive had felt himself grow fond of you— almost like his world revolves around you. he was with you not just for his child but for something much greater than himself. yoongi rolls his shoulders, his fingers barely touching at your own as he does his best to grab your attention, but then you turn around— glittering eyes shining even brighter at you look to him, the wisps of a greeting painted on your pink lips. “YN... i—“

his thoughts race a million miles a minute, just staring down at you makes yoongi’s heart stop. you barely have time to greet each other, before a loud nasally voice cuts through the buzzing electricity between you. “ahhh, mr min! the man of the hour, i’ve been dying to meet you.”

“mum,” you whine with a shy smile, linking your arms with yoongi in an affectionate manner. “play nice.”

“am i ever anything but?”

taking the time to look between the two women, he notices the endearing similarities between you and your mother. like the crinkles under your eyes when you grin and the little tilt of your head when you listen intently. he can’t help but wonder what little habits your child will pick up when they’re a little older, will they be more like him? or like you? yoongi hopes to the heavens that your baby turns out like you.

the man is so lost in thought that he almost forgets to introduce himself. “yoongi is just fine ma’am.” he smiles brightly, holding out a hand for mrs kim to shake— kissing it sweetly when she does so. he can’t help but blush under the intent gaze of your mother, squeezing your arm with nerves as he brushes through the terrains of his dark locks sheepishly.

truth be told, meeting your mother was the most daunting part of the evening for yoongi. you had painted a picture of regal woman, to yoongi, mrs kim with deepest eyes that were warm and soft— seemingly yes, he had faced celebrities and big bad CEOs but this was the grandmother of his unborn child. the woman who had raised and brought you into the world— he needed to prove himself worthy, especially since he’d impregnated you outside of marriage. yoongi wanted to show your mother that he could take care of you.

“what a charming young man, YN, darling,” mrs kim chuckles, batting her lashes up at the executive. yoongi only chuckles shyly, feeling his heart rate increase at the compliment. he was never good at taking those. “you never told me he was this attractive, you’ll make handsome children.”

“mother!”

“ah but mrs kim, i’m sure that if our child does turn out as handsome as you say— it’ll all be due to YN and you of course.” yoongi grins cheekily, ducking his head when you swat his shoulder playfully. the rose tint on your cheeks tells yoongi that his words have done their job in making you flustered and of course impressing your mother too.

the woman in question gives the executive a quick wink. “ever the flatterer too, hm?”

“yes ma’am.”

the conversation lasts for a minute or so longer before you’re rushing off to stop a slightly intoxicated jimin from stripping on the snack table as yura and taehyung cheer him on from below. affectionately, you lean up and kiss yoongi on the cheek before hurrying off with the help of your brother— leaving him alone with the intimidating presence of mrs kim herself.

moments pass without a word and yoongi wishes that he had stolen the liquor from tae so it’d at least soothe the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “i believe you’ll make a great father, min yoongi,” your mother announces, eyes trained on the daughter that she raised. “the way this baby has come about may be unconventional...but seokjin tells me you’ve stepped up to the plate, that you’ve come a long way.” she pauses, taking a breath as if she’s evaluating her words. “i know that you’ll take care of them, my daughter and her baby but i fear you’re not being one hundred percent honest.”

“i’m not?” the executive questions, lips forming a pout of confusion. whilst he was glad that seokjin had spoken highly of him and that despite the circumstances, your mother supported you both— he feared that if he’d lost your mother’s approval, you would take his child and not look back.

mrs. kim shakes her head fondly, a light chuckle filling the air between them. “oh don’t look so afraid child, i mean, you’re not being honest with yourself.” she chides, rubbing yoongi’s forearm as his brows furrow further. still confused, a question forms on his lips but the executive is silenced by another tsk from your mother. “you’re in love with my daughter, it’s clear as day and i‘m afraid that if you don’t tell her now or ever— she’ll grow fearsome herself, fail to commit and...” the woman takes a deep breath, casting a gaze over to you that yoongi can’t help but follow. “she needs someone like you to take care of her when she doesn’t want any help. i trust you to do that for me, min yoongi.”

the dark haired male takes a deep breath through his nose, watching as the elder woman takes her leave in favour of helping you calm your friends. he knows in his heart that she’s right, he loves you. he loves everything about you.

and there was no better time to tell you, than now.

the drive home is comfortable, quiet. yoongi steers with his eyes on the road and his hand intertwined with you over the console. he’s not watching you, but he knows that you’re counting the raindrops that slide down the tinted windows and merge with one another, you’ve told him that it was a habit you picked up as a child.

the baby shower wrapped up just after eleven p.m, when you’d started to complain of sore feet and the baby begun kicking to their heart’s content. like the loving brother he was, seokjin offered to help clear up whilst joon packed a drunk, snogging jimin and taehyung into his own car to drop them home. you’d thanked them endlessly, only playing nice because yoongi had promised you a foot massage when you’d returned home.

pulling into the driveway, yoongi turns off the ignition and lets the car fall into rest, the drifting hum of the car helping to steadying his nervous breathing. “we’re home,” he mumbles, more so to himself than you— biting at the skin of his lower lip. you’ve stopped counting the raindrops now, turning to face the man with a brow raised in confusion.

“yoongi, is everything alright?” you ask, squeezing his hand tighter now, it feels weighty in your own— reassuring to hold like an enveloping warmth that touches your heart. even though the car is dark, you can still make out the lines of worry that crease in his forehead, he’s never usually this quiet, uncomfortably quiet. “please... you’re scaring me...”

“i’m in love with you.” he says after what seems like years of deafening silence, finally meeting your eyes with a steeling gaze. you gasp, jumping back in shock but yoongi doesn’t dare let your hand slip from his. you feared this, the day that he told you such a sweet little lie. because how could he ever love you? you were just a girl from an office party with nothing special about you. min yoongi didn’t care for you, is what your thoughts forced you to believe but your heart knew better. “and i...i know that you’re scared, i am too. but YN, i can promise you now, that i’ve never been so sure of this, of loving you than i have about anyone...”

yoongi takes both of your hands this time, dark, stormy eyes fluttering across your face earnestly. you know in your heart that you love him too, you’ve felt it for a while but he continues, giving you all the more reason to trust in his words. “you’re beautiful and kind, and these last few months i’ve realised that you’re more than i ever deserve,” he pauses, looking away shyly as he opens up to you. “and i love you, so much i-“

“just shut up and kiss me, min yoongi.” you whisper in response, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a sweet kiss. your lips meld together perfectly as your hands move into the oblivion sea of his hair, gripping the locks tightly while your tongue finds his— engaging in a battle of passion. memories flash behind your eyes of the night you spent with yoongi, the one that gave you your gift. his hands sneak down to your waist as you kiss him eagerly, pouring a million and one emotions into it.

you don’t remember making it inside of the apartment, yoongi mumbling something about ‘not here’ in terms of taking you inside of the car. there’s a clash of tongue and teeth as you stumble up to your shared bedroom, pushing off clothes and letting out whimpers of one another’s names but when you reach the bed, rushed kisses become slow and steady, tender touches to your face and hips. “i want you,” yoongi says lowly, fingers tangling in your hair. “i want to take my time with you.”

you nod slowly as he pecks your lips once before kissing a sweet trail down your body and to your ankles. yoongi silently pulls of each of your shoes, massaging your swollen ankles as he smooths over your skin. you let yoongi take off your jewellery and smooch at your wrists, let down your hair and finally— unzip your dress. instinctively, your arms wrap around yourself like a protective barrier, shielding your body from yoongi’s moonlit gaze. of course, you weren’t ashamed to be carrying life inside of you but your body was in no way what it was before. you had stretch marks from your growing bump and swollen breasts that started to lactate here and there— you weren’t ashamed just shy.

“yoongi...i-“ you cant seem to find the words, gasping as the executive leans over you and pushes you down onto the bed. his slender fingers capture your wrists, gently pinning them above your head as his lips hover teasingly over your own.

yoongi tilts his head, allowing the moonlight seeping through the curtains to illuminate his features— the slope of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow. the darkness in his whiskey eyes and the black flecks that paint them. he’s beautiful. “you’re beautiful,” he whispers, staring deep into your eyes. “you’re glowing, pregnant or not i still find you stunning. please don’t hide your beauty from me.”

a small smile tugs at the curve of your lips as you nod silently, the man above you taking it as a sign to continue further. yoongi skilfully unclips your bra as his own lips find your neck, sucking on it diligently while your quiet whimpers fill the air like music to his ears. he litters your blank skin with shades of midnight blue and night sky purple as you arch your back into his chest but it’s not enough— you want to feel his skin against yours, the warmth of his body tangling with your own.

“off,” you mumble, pushing at his shirt while his calloused hands rub circles into your bare hips. “take it off.” yoongi obliges, pulling away from you for just a brief second to strip off his button up— his suit jacket and tie having been thrown off as you stumbled into the house. his skin is milky and pale, only dotted with light patches of freckles and scars fading with adult hood. “you’re beautiful too.” you add, looking yoongi deep in the eye.

he shakes his head fondly, kissing you again but only briefly. “i love you,” he utters into the quiet night before moving down to peck your bump. “i love you too.” you wait a moment as your baby delivers a small kick, seemingly tired out for now and share a gummy smile with yoongi. from there, your lover makes quick work of your panties, pulling them off in one swift movement as he takes to spreading your legs.

his touches are feather light, kisses like wise as the drift across your inner thighs and avoid where you need him most. “please, please yoongi.” you chant his name like a mantra, his warm breath making you even more sensitive than before.

“what is it that you need sweetheart? tell me.”

you chest heaves as yoongi smooths over your thighs, enjoying your responsiveness to him. “you, need you to touch me! god, please yoongi.” you whine, legs beginning to tremble with need. the executive only chuckles at the mention of his name, using his large hands to spread you open again, a single digit traces the outline of your heat, causing your hips to twitch up and follow the source of your pleasure.

“you’re so wet for me sweetheart and i haven’t even touched you yet,” yoongi coos, collecting your nectar with two fingers. he moans at the taste, leaning into your dripping heat with his tongue and swiping at the rest, making you whine and writhe in satisfaction. you had no idea why you were so sensitive and needy for his touch— blame it on the pregnancy hormones— it was almost as if yoongi had set alight a fire under your skin, scorching you with a hot desire as he spread your lower lips and tongue slipping past your wet hole.

fingers grip at his hair while you open up for him like a flower, hips rutting into his mouth as his plush lips sloppily kissed at your pulsing clit. “god, yoongi!” you cried, eyes rolling back as he slipped a digit past your entrance, curling it along side his tongue causing more of your hot slick to gush down your thighs, urging yoongi on while he moaned into your mess. the vibrations sent chills up your spine, making you arch your back and scream into the night, arousal spreading through your body and coursing through your veins. “please.”

“please, what?” the man in question asked, pressing your hips down as he looked up at you, evidence of your arousal painting his cheeks and chin. “tell daddy so he can help his baby.” yoongi cooed, replacing his tongue with two fingers, the stretch becoming a satisfying burn as he prepared you for his cock.

you writhed as the title slipped carelessly from between his lips, squeezing your tightness around his fingers as you struggled to keep your thighs apart. you were his baby and he was going to spoil you rotten. “wanna...wanna,” you fumble over your words as yoongi curls his fingers, pressing them into that spot that has you wriggling in the sheets—desperate for release. “wanna cum,”

“oh baby, you can only cum when daddy’s filling you up, yeah?” he speaks softly, all the love in the world intertwined with his quiet syllables. yoongi lazily draws circles on your clit, pressing his forehead to yours as she whispers sweet praises against your lips— they don’t stop when he pulls his fingers from your swollen heat nor do the kisses that come as he sheds the remainder of his clothes and aligns his hardened cock at your entrance.

you bite your lip harshly, eyes rolling with pleasure as yoongi’s hands find your own— his length pushing between your folds teasingly. you squeeze at your intertwined fingers, a sign that you’re ready to take him, that you don’t want to wait anymore. yoongi looks to you lovingly, lips hovering over your own, barely touching but saying every word and then some— you feel it, you see it that in this moment he loves you and for those to come, he loves you.

with a silent nod and another squeeze of your hands, yoongi pushes past your entrance, nestling his cock within the heat of your soaked walls. together, your share a gasp— finally being united as one. this time feels like your first together, no drunken hook ups, just you and yoongi and all the love in the world, between you both. his warm breath fans over your face like an ocean breeze as he sets a rhythm with his hips, slow at first with easy rolls of his body against yours— only speeding up with every octave that your moans rise in.

“yoongi...feels so good,” you mumble breathlessly, freeing one hand from his and burying them deep in his oblivion hair. yoongi only smiles down at you in response, bucking his hips a little feverishly as he drags the tip of his cock against your velvet lined walls. you jolt with pleasure, beginning to grind your hips back, in wanton— finding your hand slipping down to cup the man’s cheeks, letting him peck your finger tips that rest near the corners of his mouth. “so...so good...”

yoongi leans down, being mindful of the bump as he presses his chest to yours, your intertwined hands finding purchase in the silk of your sheets while he bottoms out inside of you. the room becomes filled with a vivid heat, the scent of passion twisting with the air leaving a lingering touch on your skin. “yeah? you like that sweetheart?” his voice is a light whisper, sending shivers down your spine as you arch your back into him. “love seeing you like this, angel,” he praises too, nosing your cheek as you fall into another pitfall of pleasure— a symphony of your sweet moans playing on repeat. “so swollen and full, carrying my sweet baby. love how big you’ve gotten for me.”

the silver words that slip from yoongi’s silver tongue have you throwing your head back, light perspiration licking at your skin as he takes the opportunity to ravish your neck once more. “got me so worked up, thinking bout those beautiful tits,“ his words start to slur as his free hand grips your breast squeezing them hard, so hard that you’re fearful they might start to leak. “can’t wait to taste that sweet milk, that you make for my baby. mine.”

yoongi ends his sentence in a grunt, cock thrusting mercilessly into your weeping hole, as he takes you over and over. words barely form on your lips, drowned out by the sound of skin slapping on skin and the moans that urge each other on. he drops his head to the junction between your neck and shoulder, hot breath tickling at your skin while you tug at his hair, his thick length pumping in and out of you, dragging you closer to the edge.

“yours, im all yours,” you whimper and clutch him closely as the tip of his cock brushes over that spot. tears spring in your eyes, yoongi’s hips rocking back and forth inside of you— the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter. “i’m so close, please yoongi—daddy.”

he draws himself from your neck, pressing his forehead to yours once more as he mimics your pants, chest heaving with yours as you both draw to a close.

“cum with me sweetheart, i’ve got you...d-daddy’s got you—“ his breathing stutters, the feeling of you clenching around him becoming too much for him to bare as his thrusts become sloppy. “let me pump you full of my seed, give you another baby—“

“ohgod, yoongi!”

he pants out the last part, desperate to bring you to release. you know that his words are impossible, but the steer you on nonetheless, a blinding light flashing behind your eyes as a wave of goosebumps rise across the planes of your skin. you stumble into your orgasm, releasing onto his cock and fall into yoongi’s arms, spasming as he whispers cotton candy words into your ears while he chases after his own high.

“fuck baby, you’re so good for me, my beautiful girl.” he stammers out, tripping over his words as he fills you up with the seed of his orgasm. with trembling arms, yoongi collapses to your side, lips bright red and swollen, glass milk skin bruised and bitten. he looks beautiful like this, hair slightly frazzled from your exploring fingers as his chest rises and falls. he’s extraordinary. the executive shuffles, pulling you into his chest and kissing into your hairline with a small smile to his face. “you’re staring.”

“i love you-“ you blurt, mind cleaning from the post orgasmic haze. you know that the words have been said already, before you tumbled into the sheets with the man beside you— but this time it feels different, feels more real. you love min yoongi with all that you have, from this nose scrunch when he laughs, to the creases between his brows when he concentrates, everything about him is something that you love.

“i know,” he whispers, bumping your nose with his in an eskimo kiss.

you blink back, lacing your fingers. “no yoongi, i’m in love with you—“

“i know,” yoongi chuckles, taking your hand in his before brushing his lips against your knuckles sweetly. “and i hope to god that the heavens know how much i’m in love with you.”

nine months.

“strip.”

he utters the command, simple— yoongi bends your will to suit him best. he loves having control over you, making you follow his every wish. you’re his little pet, and he’ll do with you as he pleases. shuffling, you pull off the his shirt that you wear— revealing that you’d gone bra less in favour for comfort. the executive let’s put a deep groan that has your nipples hardening just by the sound, helpless whimper escaping your lips.

“look at you baby, all swollen and leaking for me... daddy wishes he was there to punish you himself.”

you pout heavily at his words, like you had when yoongi left two weeks into your third trimester for a three day business trip in the states. it was important, you knew that, he was finally closing the deal to debut The Red Label over there— he has big plans for the label and making you realise then, that your lover cared for the company more than you initially thought.

“miss you, daddy,” you gasp, writhing under his gaze through the facetime camera— adjusting it so he could see your rising bump. “both of us do.”

your third trimester was easier than expected, despite the aching feet and the constant desire to pee at the most inappropriate of times— the last few weeks of your pregnancy were on track to going well. your newfound boyfriend, yoongi, made sure to take care of you too, with sweet massages and passionate kisses, possessive touches to the waist and keeping your pregnancy hormones in check.

ever since that night you couldn’t help but jump yoongi’s bones at any chance you got— not that he minded, he always said that being with you was like being together for the first time again. even if it was late nights before bed or five minutes before yoongi was due for a meeting, he still was tender with you, loving with you. he still loved you.

your friends and family had instantly detected the shift in your relationship too, seokjin and namjoon giving your boyfriend the ‘you hurt my little sister and i’ll-“ talk. you know that they meant well, after all, who could imagine how far yoongi had come since the start of this all. he had begun your pregnancy as a disinterested asshole, who only cared for money or himself. he had no intent of bringing a child into the word but he really had stepped up since then, proven himself a worthy father to not just the baby, but yourself.

“you look gorgeous, so round and full...” he whispers, tired eyes watching you through the screen. his milky skin reflects a warm orange hue from the hum of the hotel lights, his hair ruffled from the stresses of the day. you close your eyes, biting your lip as your boyfriend lets out an amused chuckle— shaking his head. “wanna fuck you good, keep you pregnant. love how you look carrying my baby.”

“yoongi...”

“yes, sweetheart?”

“please...”

your boyfriend tilts his head, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth before leaning back in his chair as if he’s deciding what to do with you next—you know that you’re at his mercy, even if you’re a thousand miles apart. “touch yourself for me...but don’t you dare cum until i say so.” the man before you tuts, grinning evilly. “start with your nipples, sweetheart, i know they’re sensitive.”

you follow his words, keeping your eyes on his as you guide your fingers to your hardened buds— swirling them in circles with a quiet whimper, eliciting a similar sound from your lover abroad. “more...want more...” you gasp, feeling on edge from the stimulation.

“go ahead angel, touch yourself like daddy would.”

following his voice, your finger tips drift across your skin with a feather light touch, nothing like yoongi’s— but it will do for now. slowly, you move your laptop onto the sheets, giving your lover a clear view of the flower you hide between your legs, watching him shiver at the sight of your glistening hole. with shaky breaths, you start to rub shy circles into your clit— drawing patterns and figures of eight just like yoongi would. pleasure tingles at every tip and joint in your body, trickling through your veins as your wetness drips down your thighs, just from the thoughts of yoongi watching you.

“eyes open for me sweetheart,” he reminds you, guiding you gently to push two fingers past your entrance. you thrash in the sheets, desperate for more, to touch what only yoongi could reach— your hips buck up involuntarily at the thought of his large hands spreading you apart, fingers curling as the walls of your cervix pulse hotly around him. “that’s a good girl, doing so well for me, hm?” yoongi praises you, leaning into the screen.

“mhm, your good girl...” you respond breathlessly, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy as you spasm and twitch with arousal. a beautiful mess is what yoongi would call it, your slick paints your thighs with a glossy essence— illuminating your skin as you curl your digits in search for that special spot. “god please please please!” you chant as yyour thighs shake with delight, the feeling only heightened by yoongi’s constant praise, your hips move desperately to catch up with your fingers that run at their own pace.

“slow down angel, don’t you wanna be good for daddy?”

you want to roll your eyes at your boyfriend, but knowing him— he’d only extended your punishment. “no,” you mumble, almost sternly, picking up the speed and curling your fingers, dragging them across your walls as you let out a high pitched squeal. “wanna cum.”

yoongi pauses and that’s when you know that you have him wrapped around your finger. a few pleases here and there have him nodding in permission for you to cum. your whole body shakes with delectation while yoongi coaxed you through your orgasm— stars twinkling behind your eyes as your released splashed out and coats your fingers.

“fuck baby, you did such a good job for me— put on such a pretty show for me...” the executive curses, shifting in discomfort. you can tell by the look on his face, parted lips and a crease between his brow, that he’s struggling to hold down his arousal. while left shaking and heavily pregnant, you some how manage to shift into a comfortable position— giving yoongi the puppy dog eyes.

“did daddy cum too?”

“no baby,”

a beat of silence and a grin from you. “please daddy, wanna see you cum too...”

a broken moan escapees from the confines of yoongi’s cherry lips, making you hum in satisfaction from across the globe. within an instant, the position of your boyfriend’s camera has changed— tilted down so you can get a good view of his cock springing free from his tight grey joggers. yoongi fists his length, hissing at the sensitivity, he’s bond turned on at this point. his cock stands at full attention, bright red tip burning in desperation as clear precum oozes heavily from its centre. throwing his head back, he begins to pump his girth, thick and wide, which makes your mouth water at the thought of it filling you up and stretching you open again.

“cum for me, yoonie,” you whisper, he’s barely three or four strokes in— too pent up to wait any longer, you have no idea how long he’s been holding it for. yoongi cums then and there, chest heaving with his dark hair matted to his forehead. thick ropes of his hot seed coats his knuckles, a shade much paler than his own skin.

you smile brightly when your lover comes to, busying yourself by pulling his shirt back over your head and inhaling its scent— firewood and pine, reminding you of him. yoongi smirks lazily as he uses a tissue to wipe up his mess before tilting the web cam up to his face for a better view, he chuckles deeply and shakes his head like before. “god, YN, the things you do to me,” he muses, rolling his eyes at your antics.

you mirror his smile, pressing a kiss to the screen as if he was really there. “you love me.”

“i do, so much.”

“and i love you, even more.”

although yoongi was meant to be returning today, you hadn’t been expecting any guests.

the jingle of keys in the lock captures you’re attention, the re-run of ‘real house wives’ not doing anything to interest you. you weren’t expecting your lover for another few hours but perhaps this was his way of apologising for leaving so suddenly. yoongi had seemed stressed this morning when you called after your OB appointment, showing more pictures from your scans with dr. jihyo park— he’d shown little excitement towards the life you’d created together, which was highly unusual for him.

nonetheless, you adjust yoongi’s sweater around you and wrap your arms around your baby bump protectively, moving from your comfortable position in the depths of your couch in search of your lover.

what you don’t expect, is the click of high heels against your marble floor.

what you least expect is the woman paired with them.

anyone with a pair of working eyes, or even less would know how beautiful of a woman she was. her skin was golden, dipped in honey and kissed by the gods of the above— unblemished and untouched. she had sharp features, cat like eyes, the colour of molasses paired with thick lashes and eyeliner that could cut diamonds. obsidian black and curled locks tumbled carelessly down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly whilst her ruby red dress hugged the dips and curves of her body— matching the blood red painted onto her lips.

she was stunning.

the stranger, however, seems too comfortable in your home. she knows exactly where to hang her keys and to put her jacket— she opens a letter that you know must be addressed to yoongi and simply tosses it aside as she struts through your home like she owns the place. it’s not until you’re standing out in the open for her to see, that she stops her actions, tilting her head into the air as if it’ll answer the questions in her puzzled mind.

“i wasn’t aware that minmin had hired new staff, i’m joohee.” she introduces herself, clear voice echoing across the hall.

you frown, rubbing your arm at her words. “who’s minmin?”

“your boss? min yoongi.” joohee answers confusedly as she approaches you, handing you her luggage expectantly. a pitiful smile crosses her plump, devil lips as she eyes your bump— making your skin crawl and coddle it protectively. “you’re pregnant? how far along are you? such a shame that minmin didn’t give you any time off. his values can be pretty off-“

you drop joohee’s bag as you listen to her blabber, her voice becoming patronising and sickly to your ears. she looks as if she’s about to have her way with you, tear into you like a lost little lamb but you won’t dare be disrespected in your own home. “listen lady,” you seethe, hating that you look like the pregnant angry lady. “i don’t know who you are, or what business you have with my boyfriend but i am not the help. now if you don’t mind, i’d like you to leave my home before i cal” security.”

the women before you lets her lips part with shock, quickly adjusting herself as if she’d been a doll in repair. her midnight eyes look you up and down while a cruel smirk as she takes her sunglasses from her air and toys with them between her perfectly white teeth.

“ah, i see, yoongi’s been out to play while i’ve been away. you’d think he’d be loyal to his wife— wouldn’t you?”

“w-wife?” you stammer, heart plummeting in your chest. you hadn’t noticed the diamond ring nestled comfortably on her ring finger— as if it had been there the whole time.

joohee smiles again, one that could be on the front cover of vogue. “three years and counting, darling, who could have guessed.” her words are like bullets to the chest, taking you down one by one. your heart burns with an unfamiliar sensation— heartache? betrayal? you can’t tell. everything seems foggy, all lies with smoke and mirrors. you had to have known at some point that it was too good to be true. “some water, darling?”

you shake your head at joohee, not realising the hand that claws at your throat. panic and pain crawl through your chest and hide in the ridges of your throat as you struggle to find the words to face the devil dressed in red satin. “no... i just, i just need a moment—“ you whisper, fiery tears burning in your eyes and threatening to scorch at the apples of your cheeks.

“take all the time you need, dearest.”

you move swiftly from there, running to the nursery and grabbing the hospital bag you’ll need for the baby’s delivery before heading to yourself and yoongi’s shared bedroom. you stare at the room with disgust and hatred, you’d shared too many loving moments with this man for it to be true. he lied to you, lied to her most probably.

you realise now that you were just another pawn in the game of chess called min yoongi.

through broken sobs, you manage to pack enough of your clothes to last you until you have time to come back. and so with trembling hands— you dial the phone and listen to it ring once before it picks up.

“hello?”

“seokjin?”

“yes, YN— what’s wrong? are you... are you crying?”

“please...come pick me up...”

there are no more words as the line goes dead, a little piece inside of you— dying as well.

yoongi had known something was off that night when he came home. a seventy-two hour stay in the states was more than exhausting— dealing with press and foreign interviewers who only wanted to hear about ‘american inspirations’ the debut collection. the executive had wanted to tell them proudly, that it had been you leading the design team, his YN but he stuck with his simple answers of gucci and dior to appease the crowd. all he wanted now, was to curl up with his darling girlfriend and their unborn child.

except... something was off.

the house had been dark when he came in, a new set of keys by the door and an unfamiliar suitcase. yoongi knew, if there was anything to go by, that you would have the hum of real house wives on and the smell of those salted kale chips he made you eat— wafting through the air. but instead, the sultry tones of old, familiar jazz oozed from his living room accompanied by the soft sounds of glass on glass and wine pouring.

wine.

“where is she? you bitch.” yoongi never swore at a woman, his mother raised him better than that but he heated the way joohee leisured on his couch— the couch where he lay with you for countless nights— sipping at a bottle of red wine. “answer me!”

joohee barely flinched at the raise in the dark haired male’s voice, simply choosing to pour another glass of the fruity liquid for the man himself. “she left minmin, who wouldn’t after finding out their little boy toy is married.” she teased, each word she spat like poison from were sweet lips.

“divorced, joohee, fucking divorced.” he heaved. “what the fuck did you tell her?”

“correction, divorcing and only what she needed to hear.”

yoongi remembers how fast he’d moved across the room, slamming his fist down on the coffee table so hard that it had almost shattered the glasses. that time, joohee had jumped, never had she ever seen yoongi so mad, so angry. “get the fuck out, walk out of the door and out of my life. it’s what you’re fucking good at.”

joohee left not a minute later, leaving yoongi alone in the dark of his home. your home. the home you were supposed to share with one another, build a life in. he hadn’t wanted that with joohee, not after she ruined him and broke what soul he had. you were the one to have brought min yoongi back to life, but now, he had lost you.

min yoongi hadn’t cried in a long time, but tonight would be the first since then.

“YN...he’s calling again.”

you look up briefly from folding freshly washed baby blankets and grows, to stare down at the phone that sits between yourself and yura before going back to the task at hand.

“ignore it.”

yura sighs, hitting decline before resuming her own activities— munching on the snacks yoongi had packed in your baby bag. ever since that night, seokjin had made sure you were guarded by at least one of your friends or family members. since you’d moved back in with him, either he or joon would watch you throughout the night, holding you while you cried your heart out. seokjin swore that the stress wasn’t good for the baby and that he’d kill min yoongi if he ever saw the ‘fucker again’ but you couldn’t help it, the man that you loved so deeply, the one who’s child you carry lied to you and tore your heart in two.

how could anyone lie about something like that?

moments pass before the phone rings again and you quickly reach over to hang up once more. “you really should talk to him YN. not for your sake but for the baby’s..” yura mumbles after a while, sucking the salt from her fingers as if she’s worried you’ll burst out mad at her. “maybe it’s not what you think—“

“how can it not be? he had a wife yura, he’s married! there’s no explanation for that!” you almost yell, clutching one of the grows to your chest tightly as if it’ll protect your heart.

“but maybe—“

“stop trying to defend him!”

“i’m not!”

“then shut up, shut up because you don’t know anything.” you add sternly as your bottom lip starts to wobble, you breathe heavily trying to calm yourself down. the slight twinge in your lower belly doesn’t distract you from the pain in your heart. “you don’t know what it’s like to fall for someone like this, to think you have it all and then—“

yura looks at you patiently, one of her greatest traits. she didn’t lose her temper with you or fall into screaming matches when your hormones got the best of you. she may have been slightly ticked at you, but she knew better than to show it. “the what?” she comments, brow raising in interest.

“nothing... i just, im sorry, i shouldn’t have yelled.” you bite your lip, putting down the small item of clothing and running a hand over your face. your roommate only shakes her head fondly, rubbing your shoulders, she knows this entire thing has been hard for you. you’d never planned to have a baby this early on in your life, you wanted big things and had major plans.

and you gave it all up for yoongi.

your friend smiles sadly, letting you go before heading to the doorway. “it’s okay, YN... i’ll give you some alone time.”

she does just that, giving you room to breathe as a million thoughts and what ifs cross your mind. what if you’d never met yoongi? would you be the same person you are now, back then? would you want this? would you— a burning sensation spikes in your lower back, making you double over in pain, this hadn’t been like any pain you’d experienced before, nothing like the braxton hicks you’d been warned about. and then, there’s a light gush between your thighs— panic soaring in your chest.

“y-yura-!” you gasp, steadying yourself on the nearest surface as the pain subsided unlike the fear and nerves that cloud your mind. “a-are you still there?”

the girl scoffs playfully from the hallway, making herself known. “of course i am, i’m your babysitter remember? i wouldn’t actually leave you.” she mumbles, tone quietening as you whine with the next oncoming contraction. “YN...are you alright?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the dresser so hard your knuckles turn white with the force. “yura... i think— i think my water just broke...”

“oh shit.”

this, this was pain.

yura whispers praise into your hairline while nurses flurry in and out of your room— she’d called your brother not long ago who was on his way from his last shift at work. you didn’t want to be alone. “why, why did i go through with this?” you whine, hair plastered against your forehead with sweat. people are surrounding you, telling you to push and then not to, everything is too overwhelming and all you want is the baby out of you.

everything that could possibly go wrong, was going wrong. an ambulance had been unable to pick you up from your brother’s home, the delivery plan having been registered to yoongi’s house— meaning that your roomate had to drive you all the way to hospital herself, getting lost on the way. now you were being wheeled through the hell hole, on the way for your delivery.

“because you wanted this baby and you wanted it him?” yura suggests, squeezing your hand tightly— only wincing when you squeeze it back with the start of a contraction. “would now be a bad time tell you that i called yoongi?”

“you what?” you screech, barely having time to be mad as another wave of pain hits burns at your waist. god, did you even think this part through? you barely register the door opening, another presence instantly by your side. your body responds naturally , calming in response to the man that’s now beside you.

yoongi grips hand, and if you weren’t in so much pain you would have torn away— your heartbeat ceasing in your but you know that you need him here. the time to talk will be later. “im sorry,” he mumbles quietly as they prepare you for the delivery room. “im sorry i did this to you, that i hurt you and i know that you don’t want me here right now, but im not going anywhere. not when you need me.”

curling in on yourself at the student wave on pain, you take a chance and stare up into his eyes— searching for the truth, for an answer. “okay,” you breathe, unsure of what you’ve uncovered behind yoongi’s dark eyes. “okay, lets do this.”

the executive nods at the nurses to make a move for the private delivery rooms he’d booked earlier on in your pregnancy. he squeezes your hand with a promise to yura that he’d take care of you, while you brought new life into the world.

“she’s waiting for you, y’know.”

yoongi doesn’t dare to look up, choosing to focus on the scuff on his shoes as a distraction from the conversation that is to come. it’s been hours, three or four, since the delivery— the birth of his child smooth sailing from the moment he took your hand but through all the screaming and cursing at him, yoongi couldn’t help but think of what he had lost. a family, a life with you.

but now, your room was packed with the family you had built before him, namjoon cradling you’re infant in his arms as yura cooed away— playing with tiny fingers. the executive didn’t feel like he belonged, like he didn’t deserve to be in there with you.

seokjin clears his throat with a roll of his shoulders before taking a seat next to the latter. as much as your brother despised yoongi, he knew in his heart that you were meant to be together. he’d seen you both grow from cold, isolated human beings into the warmth that a child needed to be in the world. seokjin would do this for you. for you and the baby.

“look,” the elder starts, elbows on his knees to support himself as he rubs his hands together, ordering over his next choice of words. “i never liked you, i knew that you’d break her somehow—“ yoongi scoffs, cutting the other kim sibling off, as the words nick his heart. “— but i also know that she gave a lot up for you because she loves you. that mother in there, YN, is going to need all the help she can get and christ be damned that i’m going to give it to her but that baby... that baby is going to need a father. so either you step up and prove to her that you’re still in this or you take your leave now.” seokjin warns, this time— sparing a dark glare to a now intimidated min yoongi. “because the last thing they now need, is another let down.”

the executive blinks, taking a moment to ponder your brother’s words. “i understand, thank you.”

seokjin nods, moving into your room to round up your family— giving yoongi the space he needs to explain himself to you. when he enters, you have the baby swaddled in your arms with a look that says it all. that your entire world is right here with you. a look that makes yoongi fall in love with you all over again.

“he’s beautiful,” you whisper, having heard the male come in— sparing him a short glance before looking back down at your baby, afraid that if you look away for too long, he’ll disappear. “don’t you think?”

the dark haired man can’t help but nod, approaching you slowly to admire his son— a small little thing with beautiful eyes to match your own and a head full of curls, just as dark as yoongi’s. “we made a beautiful little thing.” he comments, leaning down to brush his thumb over little min’s cheek. yoongi looks up, not realising how you watch him with tenderness, this was how it was supposed to be. “YN...i-“

“yoongi.” you breathe, turning back to focus on your baby.

“i’m sorry, i should have told you— about joohee— about my marriage with her, which is over by the way...” yoongi hates how you flinch at the mention of his ex, reaching out to grab your hand. he breathes a sigh of relief when you don’t pull away like he expected you too. “we’re getting a divorce.”

you gasp, all of your emotions flying at you at once. joohee had failed to mention that fact to you, something you might have heard if you’d heard yoongi out. “but she said—“

“i was with her a long time ago, back when i was working in daegu and she changed. the industry changed and she did too. joohee became manipulative and rude and—“ the executive closes his eyes, taking a moment to reflect. he’d never opened up about this before, but he needed you to understand...maybe forgive him. he needed to be in his child’s life. “and we weren’t working anymore, giving each other what we needed. i wanted white pickett fences, a dog, a family but she wanted all the money in the world and i couldn’t give her that.” he breathes, and you squeeze his hand. “but i met you at that party where i felt so free,”

his words come out as jumbled, becoming a ramble causing you to shake your head and grip the man’s wrist tighter. “yoongi.”

“and then this happened and i knew that i wanted all of that with you and our son and i’m so sorry that i put you through all of that pain, for not telling you—“

“min yoongi—“

“and i just miss you so much that it hurts, i want to be with you...”

“god min yoongi just shut up and kiss me!” you repeat your words from early on, using the hand that held his to pull him closer, pressing his lips against yours in a forgiving kiss. you pour all of your words and emotions into the movement of your lips against his, your love, your pain, your passion. you love him, you do— with all your heart and soul, the pair of you being mindful of the baby between you as you hold each other near and dear. “i-i love you,” you stammer, pressing your forehead against his. yoongi smiles, lips hovering over your own, he’s about to lean in for another kiss when your little boy gurgles between you. “and i love you too baby.”

“does he have a name yet?”

“i was waiting for you...”

yoongi smiles, letting your baby boy wrap his tiny fingers around his own. your body lights up with joy, if someone had told you— nine months ago, that you would end up with the worlds most beautiful baby boy, a man that you loved and a family that supported you... you would have laughed but now you’ve seen, that sometimes life has unexpected twists, good and bad.

but luckily for you, you’d had a good one. “joonwoo,” your lover hums, kissing the top of your babies head before giving you the very same kiss. “that should be his name.”

“joonwoo, meaning protection,” you mumble in a wordless agreement, observing your family. joonwoo had been a name you picked out with yoongi one night during the early stages of your pregnancy—you were surprised that he’d even remembered. “it’s perfect.” yoongi would have your white pickett fences, your dog and your family home but for now, you would enjoy the moment— enjoy the time with your boys and wait for what the future would hold.

you couldn’t wait to see where you’d be in another nine months from now.

“ahaha! look, they’re kissing! what did i tell you guys? thats twenty bucks… each!” taehyung exclaims happily, removing his face from the glass as he watches the happy family through it. jimin only rolls his eyes from behind his lover, arms aching slightly from the abundance of gifts he holds in them.

yura rolls her shoulders, having half a mind to shove the blue haired male over but she knows you’d give her an earful if she did. “fuck you,” she groans as she passes over the cash.

“i do that already!” jimin chirps from behind.

that’s when seokjin sweeps in, taking the money from taehyung with a happy smile. much to the disdain of the latter. “but i called it! he’s a boy.” the elder smirks, counting the bills. taehyung pouts in response, clinging to his boyfriend who only rolls his eyes at the group’s antics.

“but y’all are forgetting, the most important thing...” namjoon adds, taking the money from seokjin and smirking smugly at the shocked faces he receives. “i won the bet cus they’re getting married.” the brunette reveals in a sing song tone, pulling the ring box that yoongi entrusted him with. namjoon only chuckles as the group descends into chaos.

this baby was in for one hell of a family.

⇢ author’s note(s): thank you all so much for reading!! please let me know what you think and have a wonderful day or night <3

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kiranogareru · 3 years

Text

DON'T

WARNING: Angst, Bakusquad boys being assholes, violence, bullying, cursing, toxicity

A/N: 3rd person view, this is the first of a few one-shots to come, that will be improved versions of my old imagines on my Wattpad!

'Another day at my most favourite place, UA Hero Academy!' You thought sarcastically

Better known as another day of bullshit you have to endure...

You still don't have a clue how you made it through two years of this already, but it's not like it matters, as long as you are in one piece!

Your time here has been..eventful? Well that's that's one way to put it, for lack of a better word

You are walking to the cafeteria alone as per usual, praying you won't be noticed by them. Unfortunately they are already there, waiting for you to show up, like animals waiting patiently to pounce on their prey and even though the place is packed with students of all classes and departments, they somehow still spot you in the sea of people!

"Awww there she is!" Kaminari mocked using a 'cute' tone and grabbing you by the arm to bring you in the middle of the group

"You made us wait today, not manly at all!" Kirishima feigned sadness and hurt, placing a hand on his chest

"Don't be so hard on her guys. Maybe she forgot where we were meeting" Sero cooed, cupping your face with one hand and applying pressure

The look in his eyes made you uneasy, because you know exactly what is going to happen next. You've gotten used to it by now

"Today has been sooo boring" Kaminari complained

"But that's why Y/N is here man! To make our day better!" Kirishima cheers, balling up his fists and doing his signature pose

To anyone watching you, this seemed like nothing but a normal conversation, but you know better..

"You better get out of here, you damn idiots" Bakugou's voice grumbled from behind you

The words almost filled you with hope, making you momentarily forget who spoke them in the first place and making you feel like a fool for thinking that way

Bakugou was like a leading figure to these guys, so why would he put you above his friends?

If anything, he is only scolding them because there's too many eyes around and they don't want witnesses!

That thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. This is the next generation of heroes? It's just so hard to believe.. it's truly appalling!

Bakugou stayed behind 'most likely to avoid suspicion' you figured

The rest of the boys drag you outside, to a spot you have grown familiar with ever since you were a freshman. It's beside the main building, a place typically void of students or teachers!

They chose this place because they know they won't get in trouble, since this is also a blind spot for the cameras in this area!

Kirishima shoves you to the ground, which Sero takes as a sign to bind your hands and tape your mouth shut, so they can start playing their favourite game with you

A game they like to call "How long until Y/N breaks"

It doesn't take long for the first kick to fly straight to your abdomen, followed by another and a few more..they add a few punches here and there to switch up the pattern

They don't want this to get boring too quickly, of course not! They want to have fun with it..because this is their sick idea of 'fun'!

Kirishima rips the tape from your mouth, since it was starting to peal off with all the blood and spit that had started coating it!

You feel weak, you can't even activate you fucking quirk to try and defend youself! Everything hurts, but what the fuck can you really do at this point?

Hopelessness, defeat, they managed to beat into you, all the things you hate being! They have driven you to a point where you hate yourself, because of what they made you!

'How am I supposed to be a hero, if I can't even save my damn self?'

'I don't stand a chance against them anyway, they have made that very clear, since the first day we met and every time after that'

"Please stop!" You plead over and over, but there is no use however

"Why do you keep doing this?" You let out a pained cry, but the only response you get is in the form of more hits

They are treating you like a sand bag and you don't even know why. You wonder what you could have done to them to deserve this

At some point they stop and a wave of relief washes over you as you think this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

That illusion completely shatters when you hear the voice of someone you know all-too-well and realize why they stopped to begin with, but you don't have time to process anything else, because Bakugou knocks you out!

•••

Your eyes flutter open, the first thing you see being your boyfriend of nearly a year, Bakugou Katsuki!

You take in your surroundings and sit up.

'Was I brought to Recovery Girl?' You question yourself, as your right hand comes up to your head, due to a pounding headache

"Baby are you alright?" He asked, reaching his hand out to touch your cheek

"Don't" Your tone coming off quite threatening, while your fragile figure tries to get up

Your knees give out and Bakugou is quick to catch you and hold you up!

"I'm sorry baby!" He repeats the same words you've been hearing since you first started dating!

"Get the fuck off of me! Let go!" You demand, clawing at his exposed arms in an attempt to squirm out of his grip

He let's go of you and you get yourself back on the bed

He looks at you with so much sorrow in his crimson eyes, but all that does is vex you further, makes you hate him! You can't stand to even look at him anymore!

The sight of his face makes your stomach twist, his presence alone causing your blood to boil and your knuckles to ache for some action!

You're barely able to hold back right now, because looking at him has suddenly become a reminder of an agreement he convinced you to make..

His lips part, but before he can utter another disgusting, half-assed apology, you shut him up!

"No more apologies Katsuki, no more fucking lies, I don't wanna hear it anymore! I've really had enough! I just can't take it!" You stated in an ice-cold manner

"I'm sorry ok?! I couldn't do anything, it's not up to me, I can't tell them what to do! Yes, they look up to me, but I can't control them!"

Can he not hear what bullshit is coming out of him mouth? Can he not hear himself right now?

This is the only thing going through your head at the moment

"I can't stop all of a sudden, they can't know we're dating!" Katsuki says, directing his gaze to the floor

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Without a second thought your hand makes contact with his cheek, the smack echoing throughout the room

A visible, red patch in the shape of your palm forms, as he lifts his head up to meet your burning gaze once more. His expression holds complete and utter disbelief!

"You said that once we got together this would stop, you promised, but it seems like you don't want it to stop! Are you enjoying it Bakugou? Do you get off at the sight of me breaking?" You asked , well aware of the fact that you're not ready for his answer, but wanting to hear it nevertheless

"I swear I will talk to them, I just need a little more time and then-!" You cut his rambling short

"It's always the same shit with you! Spewing fake promises! This time it won't work Bakugou, I don't have the strength to do this anymore! And I don't want to waste my love and time on someone who beats me so people don't associate me with him, someone who goes to this extent so he won't be seen with me!" You confess

"I'll chan-"

"Don't say it, because it's not true and you know that! You always tell me you'll change, but you don't even try!"

"I don't enjoy seeing you in pain, I just can't stop! I've been doing this for so long, I don't know how to be anything else. But I never meant to hurt you!" He finally answered your question

"If you don't want to hurt me, you'll leave me alone! I want to be away from this so called 'relationship', it's not healthy! I need a break!" You reason

"It's not a break if you never come back to me..it's a break up!" He lowers his head once more, hair falling over his eyes, as he speaks calmly

"Come back to you? As if" You scoff, laughing out

He doesn't dare speak, he is simply staring at you, with shocked, red orbs!

"You should have stayed with the League of Villains when you had the chance! That's where 'heroes' like you belong!" You eyes shoot daggers at him,

"Now get the fuck out, you Sludge-Bastard!" You demand, using the name he hates even more than the one Midoriya calls him

He is in tears, as he leaves the school's infirmary

It isn't so much because things ended between you as it is the weight of your words!

Bakugou processes what just happened, wearing a blank expression, while he walks through the halls of UA, tears still streaming freely!

Seems like he put a lot of thought into what you told him, because the next thing you know, a new villian makes his debut

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 3 years

Text

Last Christmas (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, smut, fluff

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: mentions of past bad relationships, oral (f receiving), fairly vanilla sex

(A/N): I am aware this is a common title 🙄 I’m very insecure about my angst writing skills and my golly gosh I was not happy with this at first. So I edited it several times and now it’s... acceptable. Hope y’all enjoy! (Inspired by me listening the Last Christmas by Wham! 20,000 times)

“Crowded room, friends with tired eyes/

I’m hiding from you and your soul of ice”

-Last Christmas by Wham!

Holiday parties can be one of two things. They could either be the most exciting, eventful get together of the year, filled with laughter and happenings that will be talked about all the way until the next party. Or they can be a dreadfully stressful evening of avoiding that One Person and stuffing your face full of cookies and eggnog— trying to figure out when’s an appropriate time to leave without being rude because you only really came to show your face for the person that invited you. Last year’s party was the happier option for Jimin, one he’ll never forget; but unfortunately, this year has become the latter situation where his choices from the previous party have come to bite him in the ass.

He stands somewhere in the corner, out of sight and avoiding the crowd as everyone mingles merrily over the festive music playing in the background. All night has been like this, terribly boring as he watches his friends joke around and have fun. A few times he’s gone over to the group when he felt it was safe to do so, trying to appear as normal and relaxed as possible as Seokjin scolded him for being a wallflower. He didn’t even want to come, he reminds them, he would have been happy to stay home and mope all night instead of being subjected to this torture.

‘But you have to come, this party is tradition!” Hoseok whined when Jimin first told them this 2 weeks ago. The others had similar complaints.

‘Yeah, it’ll ruin the whole night if you don’t show.’ Jungkook’s pout was pretty convincing, part of the reason why Jimin caved. When he finally agreed, Taehyung had thrown an arm over his shoulders with that carefree grin of his.

‘Don’t let her keep you from having fun! Show up and show off how good of a time you’re having. She doesn’t control your life and you need to start acting like it.’

But Taehyung was completely wrong about that because you had an unimaginable amount of control over him even after so much time. His eyes were wide and paranoid from the moment he walked through the doors, hoping that you wouldn’t see him or try to approach— hoping that he wouldn’t see you and fall apart. And even after initially locating you on the other side of the room chatting to someone else, Jimin couldn’t freely move about the room without keeping his eyes on you to maintain a safe distance. He wouldn’t allow himself to become too distracted in fear of losing sight of you and having an awkward encounter, so he barely spoke to his friends and kept a solo cup of punch as his only companion. Even if he hadn’t come, if he had stayed in his home like he wanted, you would probably still have power over him. He’d probably catch himself wondering if you decided to show up or if you were just as nervous to see him as he was. Would likely daydream about what creative outfit you’d chosen to dress yourself in because he’s been told you usually go all out for parties like these. Maybe he’d scroll through the messages he still hasn’t deleted from his phone, remembering, regretting, reliving both the good and the bad of everything that happened between you two in the course of the past year. Thinking about the events that led him to this, all starting at last year’s party.

*** *** *** ***

One Year Ago

*** *** *** ***

“Who is she?” Jimin stares at you over the lip of his cup, sipping slowly on his drink. Seokjin glances at where his friend is looking, lounging drunkenly on the sofa cushions and loudly singing the wrong words to the Christmas music blasting through the speakers.

“Why? You have a crush on her or something?” He smirks, chuckling at the scandalized expression that Jimin turns to him with.

“A crush? I’m not in the 5th grade, hyung,” He rolls his eyes. “I’m just asking because I’ve never seen her around before...” Jimin finishes quietly, mumbling into his cup as he takes another sip. But before he can swallow fully, Jin is calling you over with a wave of his hand.

You turn your head at the sound of his voice and Jimin swears his heart stops beating in his chest as a bright smile spreads on your lips at the sight of your friend. You walk over with confidence and he has no choice but to take in your body, curves and lines caressed by the tightest onesie he’s ever seen. You’ve come to the party dressed as Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, your deer onesie zipped low enough for the tops of your cleavage to be revealed and your makeup colored flawlessly to match, freckles spotted along your cheeks and red painted at the tip of your nose. It shouldn’t be sexy, but you could probably make a trash bag look like lingerie with your looks. Jimin shifts in his seat when you come to stand in front of the two men, popping your hip as you look down at them.

“Yes, Seokjin?” You only spare a glance at Jimin before your eyes return to Jin, but his linger on you shamelessly.

“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” He sits up into a proper sitting position, pointing to the man beside him. “(Y/n), this is Park Jimin. Jimin, this is (Y/n). You’re welcome.” Abruptly, he stands and walks away, heading over to bother Jungkook in another part of the large room.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.” You extend your hand toward him and he fumbles with his cup between his hands at the gesture, eventually composing himself to stand and give you a proper handshake. Since he was seated on the couch and you had come to stand directly in front of him, you now stand a bit too close to each other, his body trapped between yours and the couch. But you don’t retreat, not even moving back a step as you inspect him from head to toe.

The two of you spent more than 2 whole hours talking, relentlessly flirting with each other as you discovered that you shared many things in common. You laughed at his jokes and gave him your full attention the entire night, your hand always finding it’s way onto his arm or knee as you pressed closer to him on the couch cushions as the night went on. It was obvious that you were very attracted to him, but Jimin didn’t want to be too forward and make you uncomfortable so he kept his hands to himself until you finally cracked and pulled his hand onto your upper thigh.

Looking into your eyes, he could clearly see the lust swirling in your irises, so it wasn’t a surprise when you pulled him upstairs into a bathroom, locking the door behind you and kissing him up against it. Nor was it surprising when you allowed him to lift you onto the countertop of the sink and bury his face between your thighs, tasting you until you had to clap a hand over your mouth to suppress your moans. What did surprise Jimin, however, was how amazing it felt to be inside you, his knees feeling weak as he pounded you into the hard surface and bit back the needy groans bubbling in his throat. You almost killed him when you dropped to your knees and took his tip into your mouth, sucking and swallowing every drop of his release as he gasped in elation. It took him several minutes to collect himself after the ordeal, but you sat on the counter and talked to him as you both calmed down and quickly agreed that this should become a regular thing.

It was about 5 months in that Jimin realized that he had serious feelings for you. The realization came when he couldn’t stop thinking about you— even in a non-sexual context— and started thinking about what it would be like if you were his. And when he finally gathered the courage to ask you out on a date, his heart nearly exploded when you said ‘yes’.

Yet his joy was short lived because his phone rang on the day of your date and you explained to him that you had been “thinking about some things” after a conversation with Jin. You had been talking about the newest episode of a tv show with him when he mentioned how awkward it would be if 2 of his friends ever started dating. He said he would hate to be a middle man between them, especially in an argument or breakup, and how hanging out with them would never be the same, how it would be weird to spend time with them separately but that he would be a third wheel if they were together. Of course, Jin didn’t know that you and Jimin were sleeping together, even if he was the one who introduced you, but his comment got you thinking and now you weren’t sure if you wanted to go out with him anymore. You told him that you needed time to think about it more deeply, but you are a logical person who never makes decisions without analyzing every outcome, so Jimin knew that it would be a long time before he got an answer from you. In the meantime, you suggested, you could continue to be friends because you had grown so used to his company, but things were awkward, and eventually communication dropped between you and you fell out of touch for the rest of the year.

A few times Jimin had wanted to text you. Ask if you still thought about him or if you ever intended to give him an answer. Maybe just check to see if you were doing well since he does still care about you. He still thinks about you almost everyday. Still wets his pillow with tears on hard nights. But his pride keeps him from reaching out, always afraid of your rejection.

*** *** ***

A sharp tap on the shoulder startles Jimin out of his thoughts and he almost drops the plate of cookies in his hands. Turning, his face pales as he is met with your inquisitive stare, beautiful face betraying little emotion. Before he can stop himself his eyes are scanning down your body, the ugly Christmas sweater dress you’ve elected to wear looking so cute on you, and he’s certain you’re the only person who could pull that off.

“Are you avoiding me? I haven’t seen you all night.” Blunt as ever, you stare directly into his soul as he squirms, looking down at the snack table in front of him and pretending to contemplate which goodies to pick up.

“No, I’ve been around.” He answers coyly.

“Not around your friends.” Your eyes shift behind him to the cackling group of men standing several feet away. This simple statement makes his heart jump. Had you been looking for him? Were you actually eager to see him tonight despite everything that’s happened? He tries to squash the tiny bud of hope in his chest, clearing his throat when you continue to stare at him.

“Like I said, I’ve been around. I’m not avoiding you.” This comes out quietly, he’s never been good at lying. But you make a sound of agreement and nod, not pressing him about it further. He watches from the corner of his eye as you turn your attention to the snack table now, looking as though you were going to pick something up, but when you realize that neither of you are moving and waiting for the other, you turn your head to him again.

“Do you- can we talk?” You ask abruptly and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He doesn’t know how to respond to this. Would it really be a good idea for him to talk to you? He’s tried so hard over these past months to extinguish the flame he felt for you, to lock away those feelings so he doesn’t get hurt anymore than he already has, but looking at you now�� standing so close to him that he can smell the scent of your holiday themed body spray— has his heart working double time. One look into your eyes and he’s ready to melt into a puddle on the floor. He’s not sure how he’ll react if you actually got him alone.

Even still, he agrees.

Of course it’s after several seconds of silence and wide-eyed staring, but the smile you give eases his awkwardness once he finally gets the words out. It’s with lead limbs that he follows you through the crowd, weaving through friends and acquaintances until the noise of the room becomes muffled and you are the only person he can see. This is different, though. Flashes of last year keep coming back to him, the parallels making his head spin, but the air is different. Instead of sexual tension between you two it’s just regular tension. The air is tight in his lungs, but this time it’s not from excitement— it’s nervousness. The hallway you guide him to is private and out of sight, but this time you’re alone for an entirely different reason. He can sense the tension in your body even through the zip-tight facade you have on display.

When you come to a stop and face him, both of you are biting your lips, and it looks as if you’re trying to find the best way to put your words. You both stand with your backs to the opposite walls of the hall, the distance between you feeling necessary in order to think properly.

“How have you been?” You start quietly, lips pressed tightly together as though forcing yourself not to say the wrong things. “I’ve wanted to call you, text you, do anything to show that I still acknowledge your existence on this planet- but I’m a coward so I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So how are you?”

Again, Jimin finds himself not knowing how to answer. He could say he’s fine, but what good would that do in this situation? Taking a deep breath, he speaks.

“Honestly, it’s been hard, (Y/n). I know we never dated, I’m just the idiot that caught feelings in a strictly sexual arrangement, but it still hurts. You left me hanging.”

“You’re not an idiot.” You say quietly and he gives you a blank look before returning his gaze to the floor.

“... How have you been?” The words sound forced even on his own ears, but he can’t help but ask. He relates so deeply to what you said about not having the guts to reach out first. So many times he’s pulled up your contact, typed something out that resembles accepting the apology you never gave, but then he’d remind himself that if you wanted to talk to him you would, but you haven’t so you don’t.

“Miserable. I keep thinking about how it was when we were ‘together’ and how stupidly I acted. We were good together. I opened up to you more than I have to 99% of the people I know, and you did the same to me. I loved being with you— it wasn’t just about the sex— and I knew you felt the same way, but I froze up at the possibility of being your girlfriend. So I kept replaying everything that happened between us from the first day to the last, trying to make sense of it all and it was exhausting. A year feels like so long, but at the same time it feels like no time has passed at all.”

You were right about that. Standing in front of you now, it seems like he just saw you yesterday. He’s reminded of the last time he saw you in person, your head on his lap as he asked you out to dinner, beaming up at him as you spoke the magic words to him. “I did feel the same way. Truthfully, I liked you after our first night together and things just got better and better from there. I had so much hope. You seemed so happy with me, which made it hurt so much worse when you turned me down.” His eyes never leave the ground as he speaks.

He doesn’t see how your eyebrows crease. “I was happy! I was the happiest I’ve been in a long time when I was with you, but-“ You trail off with a shake of your head, biting your lip when you can’t think of the right words. “Jimin, I’m so sorry I hurt you. It really is all my fault.”

“But what? Would dating me really make that much of a difference?” You were basically a couple already, he doesn’t see what the problem could have been. He refuses to believe that you simply didn’t like him enough. Yet, a cold chill climbs up his limbs at the thought.

“No.” His eyes connect with yours and it’s your turn to look away.

“Then why did-“ He doesn’t even need to finish his question before you’re shaking your head.

“Because I was scared. Like I said, I’m a coward.” Jimin hates when you put yourself down like that. Hates to see you look so guilty even though he knows you probably should.

There’s a long pause.

“Then were you ever going to give me an answer?” Quietly, the words slip past his lips before he can even think about them. They float over to you and dance around your head as if taunting you. If Jin was truly the obstacle of your relationship, you both could have just asked him. No, Jimin isn’t asking you if you were willing to risk Jin’s comfort to be with him. He was asking you if you shared his feelings. If you wanted to be with him. And the answer isn’t as straightforward as he would have liked.

“I typed out an answer to you so many times, but I couldn’t send it. I’m sorry I waited so long to talk to you, but the more I looked at my words the more uncertain I got and eventually I felt like you wouldn’t want to hear from me at all. I really am sorry, Jimin.”

Finding his eyes again, you see Jimin stiffen. He looks tired almost, as if exhausted by his own worries and thoughts, and you sag when you notice this.

“What would you have said?” His words come louder than his previous ones, though they seem much more fragile. He blinks at you, watching your chest heave for breath at the question. Dread fills his stomach like a heavy stone in his gut.

“I like you a lot, Jimin, I do. But-“

Without a second thought, he spins on his heel and walks back toward the party, leaving you stunned with a gaping mouth. His heart twists painfully as he paces away from you, weaving his way through the crowd and toward the door. It’s one thing to worry and think the worst, but Jimin has been clinging onto that one shred of hope, and hearing you confirm his fears out loud would be the worst heartbreak. Your rejection would sicken him and he had no intention of crying in front of you or at a holiday party filled with his friends, so he made the split decision to leave.

He should have never come. He would’ve happily stayed in blissful ignorance for another year instead of having to experience this. This pain is the worst.

He can tell you’ve started to follow behind him but he doesn’t care. Swooping past the pile of coats on one of the couches and picking his from the top, slinging it across his body as he pushes open the door. The cold winter air bites at his nose as he pushes on toward his car, sniffling from both the weather and the emotions stuck in his throat. Soon, he hears your footsteps behind him, heeled boots clicking on the frozen pavement as you scurry after him. He doesn’t even look back.

“Jimin, wait-“ How childish of him to run off like this, you must be thinking, and he listens to your hurried steps with a frown as he imagines the pout on your lips and distress in your eyes. “I- Ah!”

Your dramatic gasp and the sound of your body hitting the concrete is enough to stop him. And his body reacts on instinct.

Whipping around he sees you wincing on the cold ground, cradling your ankle with one hand, and suddenly he’s rushing back over to you. You move to stand, attempting a tentative step forward, and Jimin reaches you just in time as you collapse again and fall forward into his arms.

“Jimin, that’s not what I meant-“

“Did you hurt your ankle?” He cuts you off, focused solely on the foot you hold limply above the ground.

“I-“ Noticing that he won’t meet your eyes, you relent, cheeks burning. “Y-Yeah.” The sidewalk is cracked and uneven where you stand, your heels likely stepping right into the crack and causing your twisted ankle. He clicks his tongue.

Any logical person might have taken you back into the party where the host, your friend, would surely be able to help. But instead he scoops you up into his arms princess style and continues down the path toward his car. You say nothing, simply looking at his side profile as he walks. Jimin refuses to look at you even with his arms wrapped around your body, feeling a distinct warmth not only from your body pressed to his, but also from your unyielding gaze. It’s almost as if you are studying every inch of his face, awed by the sight as though you missed it. As if you missed him. His face heats uncomfortably but he ignores it, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead until you reach his vehicle.

Opening the back door, he sets you inside, well aware of your momentary surprise when he slides in next to you and shuts the door. Holding out his hand, he waits for you to get the message, and slowly you raise your leg up until your ankle rests in his lap. The silence is tense. The enclosed space is only slightly warmer than the whipping wind and bitter cold outside, but currently neither of you are sure which you would prefer more. He removes your boot with some difficulty but takes care not to hurt you, reaching down to slip off the other and note the difference in size. Your ankle has begun swelling a bit, though the damage is minimal likely because of the cold. Your mouth opens with unspoken words, he can see this from his peripheral, but you end up closing it again without a sound.

The leather of his seats crinkle when you shift and the noise feels far too loud. His car smells of the air freshener he’s placed somewhere, a woody and spicy scent that reminds you of cuddles by a warm fireplace— the smell calming you somewhat as you allow him to continue his examination. As gently as he can, Jimin pokes at your ankle around the swollen area, pressing one finger over a spot that makes you hiss, and finally his eyes snap up to yours.

“What are you doing?” His eyes flicker away from you again at the question.

“I’m checking your ankle, it seems a little swollen-“

“No- what are you doing? Why did you walk away from me? Why did you bring me to your car?”

If he had an answer for you, surely he would give it, but he’s trying to figure all of those things out himself. What was his goal? Did he subconsciously want to talk to you somewhere away from the party, in a place where he was comfortable, that he could control? He thought he didn’t want to hear what you had to say, but here you are, alone with him again.

“I don’t know.” He answers lamely. “Did you walk here? I know you don’t live far— I can give you a ride home if you want.”

“I don’t want a ride home, I want you to listen to me!” At the raise of your voice everything stops. It even seems like the wind outside has paused. You weren’t angry, you were tired of him ignoring you when he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yourself. You bring your voice back down when he drops his hands. “Could you listen to me? Please.”

“... Okay.” Like a child, he sits stiffly with his hands folded and fidgeting, body half turned toward you, but you take that as sign enough to start.

“You asked me what I would have said to you in my message. You didn’t let me finish.” He swallows at your irritated tone, but it softens when you take a deep breath. “I was saying that I really do like you Jimin, but I just didn’t realize how much I liked you until I had already ruined things. I would have said that I’d love to date you, that hearing you ask me out was the happiest moment I’ve had in a long time— but I kept doubting myself. I’m so afraid that I’ll disappoint you. That we’ll start dating and just when I’m finally happy you’ll realize I’m not everything you thought I was and leave me. I’ve had some really bad relationships in the past and I felt like they’d come back to haunt me and you’d realize how damaged I am and get fed up because I’m not sensitive enough or too paranoid or too... broken.”

“(Y/n),” Seeing you so insecure like this hurts his heart. His hand returns to your leg. “I already know about your past relationships and trauma. You told me about it all and I still asked you out after I knew. I would never think that way about you.”

“I know you wouldn’t, that’s one of the reasons I fell so hard for you. That’s why it’s called an irrational fear. Even though I knew this, I still panicked when you asked me out and all of those thoughts came flooding in. And when Jin made the comment about his friends dating... I guess I was looking for an out. You did absolutely nothing wrong, but I pushed you away because I couldn’t handle the thought that you would want me, of all people.” You mumble your last sentence, but he hears you loud and clear. “I’m sorry, I do some pretty stupid things when I’m in love.”

When you’re in love?

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a long while, shocked into silence by your last statement. It’s a lot to take in, he’s just gone from believing you were about to rip his heart out and reject him, to hearing you say that you’re in love with him.

“So... what does this mean for us?” He hears himself ask, not conscious of his mouth moving to produce the words.

“I-If the offer still stands, I’d really like to date you. That is, if I didn’t already screw everything up and you still have feelings for me.” Your eyes looks so innocent when you look at him. You are usually fairly stoic, eyes betraying little emotion except for when you’re extremely happy or flirting— this is one of the few times he’s gotten to see this side of you. Being vulnerable is something you struggle with, it’s rare for you to be in this type of position where someone else holds your fate, your heart, in their hands.

He can’t hold back the small smile that makes its way onto his face, meeting your eyes without any apprehension this time. “You didn’t screw anything up, (Y/n).” He doesn’t say anything more after you return his smile, he simply exits the car and rounds the front to the drivers seat. The air shifts and it’s no longer as suffocatingly tense as it was moments prior, much to your relief.

The ride to his home is quiet, you don’t dare speak or look out the window for the entirety of the trip because you’re so focused on the back of his seat and the glimpse of his face you can catch whenever he shifts. He’s fairly certain you’re trying to figure out what exactly is running through his mind right now— and so is he, honestly— but you won’t ask him yet. He hasn’t really given you a proper response, you can only hope that his comment meant that he holds no ill feelings toward you and would also like the chance to date you, but you hate assuming. Your pride has your questions caught in your throat, though.

You seem a bit startled when he parks in front of his building. He answers your curious gaze with the excuse that he can better take care of your injury here and insists that you stay the night since it’s already so late. Cheeks burning, Jimin tries to ignore the small chuckle you let out when he stammers, his arm wrapping around you to help you out of his car. He takes revenge on you, however, as he lifts you back into his arms like before, not even allowing you to place your feet on the ground as he walks into the apartment complex despite your complaints, smirking slyly when your face colors the same as his at the odd looks you receive from the other passengers of the elevator.

He puts you down only when you reach the couch inside his apartment, setting you gently on the soft cushions and offering to take your coat from your shoulders. He hadn’t even asked if you had all of your belongings from Jin’s house before he impulsively drove you here, something that he apologizes profusely for, though you wave him off and assure him that you only brought your coat and the things you could fit in its pockets with you.

Not knowing what else to say, Jimin stands in front of you for several long seconds as you look up at him with soft eyes. He’s caught now, forgetting everything that he was doing as he looks back at you sitting so prettily on his couch. That look you have in your eyes is the same one that gave him enough courage to ask you out months ago, your irises nearly sparkling even in the dull lighting of his living room. It takes his breath away and he is momentarily stunned, frozen in place with a heart that beats out of his chest. What was he even supposed to be doing? Your coat is in his hands and he fiddles with it, trying to remember where he wanted to put it before you blindsided him with those beautiful eyes. Ah, yes. The coat closet. Blinking, you take note of how he shifts from one foot, then the other, before clearing his throat.

“I’ll be right back.” Jimin turns from you immediately as he feels his cheeks start to color pink. It feels heavy, having all of those wilting and withering emotions come slamming back down on him with just one look. He’s dazed as he hangs both of your coats in his closet, picking up compression bandages and scissors from his first aid kit then swinging past his kitchen to retrieve an ice pack for you.

When he returns he sees you still seated rather uncomfortably on his sofa, body tense and on the very edge of the seat. You were never this awkward in his home before, even during your first time here— granted, you did spend the first few hours naked in his bedroom, eliminating most of the discomfort you’d feel when he decided to give you a tour of the rest of the place afterward. But Jimin somewhat expected that you would settle right in even though things have changed since the last time you were here. Guess not.

“You can get comfortable, you know. You don’t have to act like a stranger.” He tries to laugh but it comes out a bit dry, the pull on his lips looking a bit forced. And it hits him then that he’s the one that’s nervous. While you seem to be trying your hardest to be polite, he’s actually the one that feels pressured. Swallowing hard, he takes a seat next to you and lifts your injured foot onto his lap again, this time feeling hyper aware of where your body touches his. His hands shake the entire time he wraps your ankle and he’s sure you’ve noticed by how intensely you stare as he works. It’s embarrassing to say the least, but he can’t seem to calm himself. Not when you’re so close to him again and especially not now that he knows how you truly feel about him. So, reluctantly, he removes your legs from him once he’s finished and sets up some pillows over the armrest for you to elevate your foot and places the ice pack on your ankle. “So, um, do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

*** *** ***

One thing Jimin has always found endearing about you is how quickly you tend to fall asleep once relaxed enough. The movie is little over halfway through when he sees your head nodding beside him, catching him by surprise when you lean over to rest it on his shoulder. He shifted you to lay against his strong thigh so you can get more comfortable, and now he’s completely forgotten about the movie as he watches you sleep peacefully against him. Staring down at you like this has all of his worries slipping away, your words from earlier finally sinking in and allowing him to finally react. This was all he ever wanted, you to give him a chance and reciprocate his feelings, and now that it’s happening it doesn’t quite feel real. But you are very real. He confirms this by caressing his thumb over your cheek, planting a soft kiss on your forehead that makes your eyes flutter open.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He whispers sheepishly, but you simply shake your head.

“No, it’s okay.” You stretch but don’t bother to move away from him. You’re far too tired for awkwardness and would much rather return to normalcy with him.

“How’s your ankle?” He asks gently, glancing at where it remains propped up at the end of the couch.

“Mm, a little sore,” He frowns at that, feeling guilty. “But it’s not that bad! I’m fine, really.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“No it isn’t, it’s my fault for not looking where I was going.”

“But you wouldn’t have needed to watch where you were going if I didn’t storm away from you like that.”

You let out a heavy sigh at this. “Just drop it, okay? It’s really not that big of a deal, I’ll be back to normal in a few days.” You turn your head toward the tv to take in what was happening on the screen, allowing the noise of the movie to fill the quiet that falls between you two.

“I won’t do that again.” Jimin states quietly, playing with the hair at the very top of your head. “In the future, I won’t walk away from you until we work things out like adults. You didn’t deserve that tonight.” Something about how he says this makes your heart stutter. You turn back around slowly, lips parted as you look up at him.

“In the future? As in, you want to have a future with me?” Realizing how that sounds, you quickly try to backtrack as you sit upright with a wave of your hands. “I mean in the near future, not like you want a future with me like we’re getting married or something! You know what I meant, right? I wasn’t implying that... y-yeah.“ At the amused look on his face, you stop, closing your mouth before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. You’re never like this around him. You never used to fumble for words or feel the need to explain yourself like you do now, but suddenly the pounding of your heart has you tongue tied and jittery. Your nervousness makes Jimin feel a little bolder.

“Yes, (Y/n). In both the near and far future, I’ll always treat you with respect. You’ve had it hard. I want to be the one to show you that relationships can be good— that you can trust me to respect you as a person and can put your faith in me. So yes, I want there to be a future.” You blink at him and he has to laugh at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“...Does this mean you’ll give me a chance and date me?” He nods. “You’re not upset? I left you waiting unanswered for months, I would’ve thought you would at least need some time to... reconsider?”

“What’s there to reconsider? My feelings for you are just as strong as the last time I saw you, (Y/n), that hasn’t changed.” Your eyes drop to where his hand lands on your thigh, making you gulp. “We wasted enough time not being together this year, what’s the point in wasting another second? Sure, I was hurt before tonight, but hearing you explain everything so openly to me made me happier than you can imagine. I want you to go out with me. I want you to see how much I care about you and know how far I’ll go to make you happy, and fall for me just like I’ve fallen for you.”

He seems resolute when he says this, serious but sweet all the same, and now it’s your turn to be shocked and dazed by how honest he’s being at the moment. This must have been how he felt earlier, unable to say the right words or relax his body even after your reassurance. You want to tell him that what he said is pretty silly. Silly because you already fell for him without even realizing it and there’s little else he needs to do to prove himself in your eyes. Unable to vocalize all of this, you simply move closer to him until you’re face to face. His hands come to softly rest on your waist out of habit, stabilizing you as you slowly rise on your knees and lean into his lips, kissing them innocently to convey what you feel.

As soon as your lips find his, chills shoot throughout his body. God, he’s missed your lips. Missed the way you smile into the kiss when he presses deeper and pulls you closer with his insistent hands. You tell him everything he needs to know with every movement you make, your hands snaking up from his chest to his neck where they twine loosely in the hair at the back of his head. His breath hitches when you throw a leg over his hips to straddle him, your dress riding up your thighs until it bunches around your hips. You pull away from his mouth, panting and grinning in his lap.

“Okay.” You nod, accepting him.

“Okay?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile.

“Yes. I want that, too.” He allows you to press into him again, his back molding into the cushions of the seat as you rest your weight on him fully.

“Good.” You can see he’s trying not to look overly excited by this because he’s biting his lips hard to contain his smile, but his eyes betray his happiness to you. When he sees you smiling at him, he buries his face in your neck, leaving playful butterfly kisses that flutter ticklishly against the skin of your neck, chest, and shoulders causing you to giggle.

“Jimin stop, that tickles!” You squeal, halfheartedly squirming to get away, but he has his hands tight on your hips to keep you in place. Giggling at your playfulness, he lets his lips linger just a little longer with each peck, stealing licks and nibbles every so often until he trails his way back up to your lips. His fingers slide down to press into the smooth skin of your exposed thighs, wanting but not pushy even as the kisses become hungrier.

You didn’t intend on your make out session turning into anything more, but the atmosphere quickly shifts in that direction as soon as your hips start to roll against his. As soon as your crotch meets his, Jimin bucks into you slightly and you let out a mewl into his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He feels your body start to heat when he slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring you in sync with the rolls of you hips. Just having you close to him again has his body reacting and he’s sure you can feel him hardening in his slacks, light hisses leaving him whenever you catch his tip against your thigh or pull at his roots, tugging his head back to you every time he tries to pull away to gasp. A wet patch seeps into his briefs beneath your expert hips, ruining his slacks from the inside while you ruin them from the outside with the wetness you drip from your panties.

Jimin’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress, breaking from you shortly to silently ask your permission, and once you nod he delicately removes the clothing item before tossing it to the other side of the sofa. Taking it further, he pulls down the cups of your bra to expose your breasts to him, gently rubbing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples.

“So pretty,” He whispers, bending down to take one into his mouth, sucking the bud as you hump against him faster. Your fingers, still wound in his hair, keep him steady at your chest, tiny whimpers leaving your lips at each flick of his tongue and graze of his teeth against your pert nipple. He works around your tits just how you like it, having learned exactly what makes you mewl from the many times he’s found himself in your bed. Your chest is glossy by the time you peel him away, the pressure in your core no longer satisfied by your grinding, and he gives you a questioning look when you move to stand in front of him with your hands on the button of his slacks. Completely forgetting about your ankle, your leg gives as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot and Jimin catches you swiftly, flipping you so that you now lay against the cushions with him kneeling in front of you. “Be careful,” He scolds lightly, trailing kisses up your thighs.

“You don’t want me to give you the ‘sloppy-toppy pepper grinder 9000’?” He snorts at your puppy eyes, pulling down your panties with a shake of his head.

“Not today,” The pecks he leaves up your inner thighs have goosebumps prickling your skin.

“But you love the ‘sloppy-toppy pepper grinder 9000’!” Your pout becomes more prominent when he spreads your legs further apart, anticipation building exponentially in your gut.

“Please stop calling it that,” Jimin laughs, eyes squinting cutely at you. “Tonight I wanna show you how much I missed you. Just relax, baby, let me take care of you.” He doesn’t give you time for a rebuttal, diving down to lick up the arousal that dribbles down your folds, following the trail up with his tongue until he reaches your clit with a flick. You moan immediately and he’s almost surprised by your sensitivity, concealing a small smirk by dipping down to do it again.

His fingers part your lower lips, allowing him to press his tongue more firmly on your bud, and it’s all you can do not to shriek at the bolts of pleasure it sends up your spine. It’s like he’s injected lava into your veins, heat spreading all throughout your body and pooling in your core with every eager swipe of his tongue against your bud, setting your nerves alight. Jimin has always shown enthusiasm for oral— you remember one night in particular where he pinned you down and wouldn’t let up until you were begging and crying for him to stop as your 5th orgasm of the night washed over you— but this is something different entirely. His movements are slow and deliberate, sensual patterns drawn against your most intimate areas to build you up slowly but steadily, focused solely on your throbbing clit that practically begs for his attention. He has his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every emotion that flickers across your features and noting what brings you the most pleasure, although he already knows from experience.

“Mmh,” He growls into you as you continue to drip for him. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, your essence coating his cheeks and chin messily. It smears against his lips when you start to rock into him, moaning lewdly in tandem with your movements and holding onto the back of his head for leverage. He really doesn’t mind how you hold his face so tightly to your center. The heat from your core and thighs give his cheeks a delightful flush but he doesn’t pull away for a second, instead using his lips to suck on your pearl until your legs quiver around him. One of his hands drops down to palm at the ever increasing tent in his pants, his dick already at full hardness and twitching impatiently for the chance to be inside you. Just thinking about being inside your wet heat again makes his eyes roll— fuck, he needs to calm down before he cums in his pants. But he can’t help but shift his hips in search of friction when two of his fingers enter you with no resistance, slipping in to the knuckle because of the copious amounts of fluids you leak. It’s easy to find your spot, and when he does your back arches from the chair.

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m close.” You gasp out, tossing your head back as you rub yourself against his face more forcefully.

“Already?” He mumbles against you, the words muffled because he refuses to pull away, but the vibrations of his voice go straight through you. All you can offer is a needy whine to him but it’s more than enough for him to double his efforts. He pushes at your thigh to open you again, then flattens his wet muscle over your clit, using his whole mouth to please you with broad licks that make your toes curl. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he strokes at your spot, pulsing synchronously with the bud against his tongue, and he catches the most beautiful look take over your face as he brings you to climax.

Your skin flushes as the high overtakes you, mouth parted to let out the cutest moans and curses mixed with his name, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows scrunched together as wave after wave crashes down on you. His name has never sounded better to him as it falls from your pretty lips on repeat, drowning out the squelch of your wetness as he fingers you through your bliss. Feeling you pulsate around him is a feeling he’ll never get tired of, but he’d much rather feel you throb around his cock instead of his fingers, his hips bucking up into the air in anticipation.

“So fucking sexy,” Jimin groans, obsessed with the way your hips squirm when it becomes too much. His wet lips press kisses down your trembling leg as you catch your breath, ending with your tender ankle that he babies apologetically.

“Holy shit.” You finally find it within yourself to whisper, melting into the couch beneath you.

“You okay? I’ve never seen you cum that hard before.” He isn’t teasing when he says this, but your cheeks heat up regardless, averting your eyes away from his gentle gaze.

“I haven’t slept with anyone since you, so I’m a little hypersensitive now.” It’s been months since anyone has touched you. Truthfully, it wasn’t only because you felt bad because of your silence toward Jimin, but that certainly played a part in it. Even still, you don’t like how his face morphs into shock as if there’s a horn growing out of your forehead. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Oh, no it’s just- I haven’t been with anyone else either...” He didn’t like to think about it, but he assumed that you were getting your needs fulfilled by someone else after you had stopped talking to him. Knowing you hadn’t been with anyone else makes an odd relief come over him. Now he’s blushing too and you still can’t look at him, but he climbs up your body to kiss you anyway, easing your momentary shyness. The kiss reignites your desire and suddenly he feels your hands tugging at his zipper, working to free his member from his confinement. He takes this time to remove his own shirt, unclipping your bra and tossing it into the pile of clothes that now sits at the end of his couch as you yank down his slacks and briefs in one go.

His length springs free before you, the sight pulling a whimper from your lips. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, thick and long and smooth in all the right places, and it never fails to make you gush every time you see it. You can practically feel it inside you already and you can’t wait another minute, wrapping your warm fingers around the base and stroking drips of precum from the tip. Jimin groans with a bite of his lip, removing your hands from him and leaning away.

“Turn over for me.” He instructs, gripping himself as he watches you spin onto your knees with your arms draped over the back of the couch. You look back at him with flirtatious eyes, wiggling your ass at him to entice him into action. A smack lands on one of your cheeks, the flesh jiggling from its force and you hear a sharp inhale behind you. “Comfortable?”

Always the gentleman, he always checks to make sure you’re okay. But you’re far beyond that point, seconds away from grabbing him and pushing him into you yourself.

“Yes, now please fuck me already, I’m going insane.” He snickers at the way you push back toward him, hole searching for his length blindly as sweat accumulates on your back.

“Anything for you, babe.” Fingers collecting your dripping essence, Jimin takes the time to spread your lubricant over himself, allowing you to hear the slick noise and his heavy breaths as you wait on quivering knees. After what feels like an eternity, you finally feel him drag his hot tip through your folds, tapping the weight against you until you’re just about ready to crack. But just as you take in a breath to scold him, he pushes in to the hilt and forces a groan from you.

The intrusion is tight. He almost goes cross-eyed at how tightly you squeeze him upon entry, and he’s awed into silence at the way your velvet repeatedly clenches and relaxes as you try to adjust. At least he thinks you’re trying to adjust, until he brings his fingers down to your clit and starts rubbing, only for the clenching to get more intense.

“Is that okay?” He asks, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back.

“It’s amazing,” You nearly sob, rocking back into him. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”

Before you’re even finished your sentence he’s pulling back, leaving you completely empty except for his tip before thrusting forward. You both moan at the movement and he starts a fairly quick pace, standing erect and gripping your hips securely. Just like the first time he had you, you steal his breath away. It’s addicting, the way he glides in so easily with the thick coating of arousal you cover him in, and he wonders how the hell he lasted months without you. He thrusts deep, giving you every inch and loving the curses and whimpers you let out.

“Shit baby, just like that.” You gasp, digging your nails into the top of the sofa at the pleasure. The arch in your back deepens when he hits your spot, and you involuntarily clench around him, goosebumps crawling up your skin when the tightness pulls a deep groan from him. His cock is the perfect shape, the perfect length for you, and he touches places within you that you can never reach on your own. Every snap of his hips is precise, intended to give you the utmost pleasure because Jimin simply adores seeing you fall apart for him, but there’s something else tonight. Passion. You can feel it in the way his hands roam your body freely, tracing over your curves and caressing you with a tenderness that you haven’t felt before from anyone. His thumbs massage the dimples in your back even as he rams into you, dipping down to line your shoulder blades in sloppy kisses.

“Fuck (Y/n), I missed you so much.” Jimin rasps, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck as he changes his pace to a swivel of his hips. “Missed our long talks, missed your laugh, those cute little moans— mmh— and I especially missed fucking this tight, wet pussy.”

“Yeah?” You try to sound a little cocky, but that’s ruined by the shakiness of your voice. He still has your legs shaking even with the delicate strokes he now delivers, and you have to rest your forehead on the back of the couch to catch your breath.

“I can’t tell you how much I thought about you these past few months. I drove myself crazy wondering if I’d get to see you again.” His voice drops an octave when you squeeze at his words, your walls fluttering along with your heart.

“S-sorry,”

“Stop apologizing, at least I get to have you now.” And have you he does. Whether he knows it or not, he owns your body and heart already and there’s no going back now. Nodding, you start to rock backwards against him, fucking yourself on his cock. He stops moving to let you work, biting down on your shoulder at the feeling as you spread your legs wider to get more leverage. His moans and grunts spur you on, wordless encouragement as you render him speechless with your hips. If he wouldn’t let you use your mouth on him, the least you could do is take some of the work off his hands to pay him back. If it wasn’t for your bum ankle you’d be riding him off into the sunset right now, but you settle for working hard on pleasuring him like this.

His hands aid your movements, pulling you back onto him as you feel the light layer of sweat smear on your shoulder when he rests his forehead against it. One of his hands inches toward your midsection, pressing down slightly to feel the bulge of his tip as it slips in and out of you, pulling a desperate moan from you. The pressure around his member increases from the external force and he moans alongside you, the sweet sound breathed right next to your ear and traveling straight to your core.

“I’m- I’m close again.” You hiccup, faltering in your motions.

Without a word, Jimin pulls out of you, ignoring your whine to move you onto your back swiftly. He situates himself between your open legs, smirking at how they tremble on either side of him as he lines himself up and pushes back into you. At your gasp he steals a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth and savoring the taste of your moans. He drops down to his elbows but you pull him closer until all of his weight rests on top of you, even if it causes his thrusts to be less efficient. When he pulls away for air, he smiles down at you.

“Hi,”

“Hi.” You return, brushing some hair away from his eyes.

“I just wanted you to face me so I could watch you cum again.” Jimin explains cheekily, proud of the blush he pulls from your cheeks.

“Then make me cum.” He doesn’t need to be told twice. Swooping down for another kiss, his hand immediately slithers between your body to reach for your clit, pressing into it with his fingers as his hips pick up speed. You’re confused at first when his hand doesn’t move, your pearl throbbing beneath him, but it’s soon forgotten when he touches your g-spot again and makes you see stars.

Your orgasm builds up with every hard stroke of his, and when your legs move up to wrap around him he hits so much deeper. A knot is forming in his own belly from looking at you, watching you struggle to keep your eyes open and on him as you tug on his scalp. The sparks of pain only add to the almost overwhelming pleasure of being inside you, and Jimin has to focus hard to avoid cumming before you. He grits his teeth as he fucks you harder, reveling in the music of your squelching wetness and the slap of your skin, keeping the rhythm steady to please you. Your hands leave his hair as the pleasure mounts. They grapple at anything around you as you start to lose control, grabbing at the cushions beneath you, scratching down his back, holding onto your own legs, until they finally settle on the firm muscles of his ass, urging him on.

Then he feels it. The steady clamp of your cunt that tells him quite clearly that you’re ready.

Shifting his fingers to swipe a glob of your arousal, Jimin begins rubbing into your clit vigorously, holding his position solidly above you when your body jolts from the sensation. You feel as if he’s rubbing a fireball into your core, heating you up until you’re panting and sweating and just about ready to combust. He’s assaulting you from all sides, battering your g-spot, attacking your clit with his nimble fingers, and sucking at your stiffened nipples; the onslaught of bliss sending you head-first into a breathtaking orgasm.

Looking up at you through lidded eyes, Jimin feels like he’s flying. You look completely enveloped in bliss, pride swelling in his chest as you call out his name and pull him closer until there’s no space between you. Feeling you cum around him is his favorite feeling, he loves the erratic spasms of your inner muscles, how the rest of your body tenses around him, the uncontrollable jump of your hips as he works you through it all with slow fingers until you try to squeeze your legs shut around his body and he takes pity on your whimpering. It feels so good you could cry, and there’s nothing he loves more than the watery eyed smile you give him when you finally peek your eyes open to stare up at him.

His heart clenches as he looks down at you, racing for a reason unrelated to the vigorous movements of his hips. Seeing you like this, with stars in your eyes and soft adoration for him, has him hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You stroke his hair and continue to clench around him, whispering dirty words to push him over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna cum,” Jimin grunts, the crease between his eyebrows growing.

“That’s it, baby,” You drawl as you suck your own love marks into his skin. “Cum for me.”

With a strained groan, Jimin pulls out of you and rubs himself against your lower abdomen, shivering when you drop down a hand to stroke him until white ribbons coat your stomach. There’s a lot of cum and it makes a mess all over you, yet you enjoy every drop, savoring the quivering moans from the man above you. When he’s finished, you release him and reach for his face, bringing him down for a searing kiss.

You don’t know how long you kiss him like that, but you do know that he breaks away all too soon, pushing himself up off the couch to gaze upon his artwork. He lets out a growl of approval, to which you laugh and throw one a pillow at him.

“Pervert.”

“What? I didn’t even say anything!” He snickers on his way out of the room, returning with a wet washcloth to clean you with. His touch is so gentle that you could fall asleep right there, but you force yourself to stay awake to bask in the moment. It’s then that you realize the tv is still on, the movie you had been watching having ended long ago. You reach for the remote and turn off the screen, watching instead as Jimin busies himself with tidying the room. He reaches for you when he deems it good enough, all of your clothes folded at the other end of the couch and his cushions clean of any bodily fluids, and this time when he lifts you into his arms you allow it.

After helping you to the bathroom and making sure you didn’t fall or walk on your injured foot, he rests you on his bed gently and tosses you one of his shirts, slipping on a new pair of boxers for himself. As soon as his warmth enters the bed with you, your entire body relaxes. Cuddling after sex hadn’t always been your thing, but it became routine a few months after seeing Jimin. He couldn’t resist and you couldn’t say no and now it comes almost automatically. He lets you wrap your arms around his midsection and rest your head on his beating heart, his own arm slung around your waist. These moments, these quiet moments where the silence is comfortable and simply feeling your skin is enough, are what he missed the most. He’s never wanted this kind of intimacy with anyone else. Never craved to hug anyone and never let go until he met you. No one has ever occupied his thoughts like this, made him slightly irrational or scared him as much as you do— he’s never been scared to lose someone before he was faced with that situation with you. Jimin is certain he’s never been in love before, therefore he has no idea what it feels like, but now he’s starting to wonder if this is it. The thought is equal parts terrifying and comforting and all he can do is hold you closer.

A chuckle from you draws his attention to the silly smirk on your face, and he just knows you’re about to say something stupid.

“So, you missed this gorilla grip pussy?” Of course you would say something like that. You’re the only person he knows who would say that to someone in seriousness— just like how you came up with that foolish name for a blowjob. But it’s one of your many charms. He stifles a laugh knowing it would only encourage you, but you catch the rise of his cheeks and laugh anyway.

“Ugh, why do I even put up with you?” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Because of this gorilla grip pussy.” You state as though it were obvious, clinging to him as he lightheartedly tries to push you off.

“God, I missed your goofy ass.” His lips find your forehead and your snuggle deeper into his chest.

“And my-“

“Please, don’t say it again.” Jimin stops you with a wrinkle of his nose, pulling the sheets higher up your bodies. “But yes, I missed that too.” Your giggles settle down after a few seconds and then the mood shifts to something a bit more serious. “(Y/n).”

“Hmm?” You hum, closing your eyes.

“Never think you aren’t good enough. Your past doesn’t define your future and just because a few people treated you poorly in the past doesn’t mean that you’re unworthy of love. You may think that what you went through makes you undesirable, but in my eyes it makes you look incredibly strong. And you’re even stronger to be able to share your experiences with me and open yourself up after all that’s happened. I want you to know that I will never fault you for the shitty things other people have done, and I will spend every day showing you just how amazing you are to me, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t open your eyes as he speaks, afraid that the tears that have been welling up will spill over if you open them. Hearing him say this means the world to you and you’re inclined to believe every word. These are the kinds of things he would say to you when you were still just fuck buddies. He always listened with empathy and took the time reassuring you that nothing you went through was your fault, yet you still doubted him when he showed interest in dating you. Looking back on it, you feel silly. How could you ever doubt such a genuine man, who has never taken advantage of you even once when you poured your heart out to him, who is so understanding and caring that you feel instantly at ease when talking to him? Jimin is everything you ever wanted, and for once your heart and brain can agree to let yourself be happy.

“Thank you, Jimin.” You sniffle, leaning into the hand that now strokes through your hair as his words replay in your mind. You don’t like getting emotional, so you try to dispel it by using humor. “If you truly mean it then get ready, I only get goofier from here.”

He giggles. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Oh it is, trust me.”

“I do.” The seriousness of his tone has you glancing up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by the affection in his eyes. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your neck so you look away. “So will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the sooner the better. We could go out for breakfast.” His smile is blinding and your blush deepens. You’re not used to getting shy, but Jimin seems to bring it out of you.

“Brunch. I have a feeling we’ll be sleeping in.” Glancing at the clock, you note how late it is, well past midnight and any other reasonable bedtime. That doesn’t seem to matter, however, because you will probably spend all night laying awake from the excitement of what will come tomorrow— and the day after, and the day after that. Your months of worrying have finally come to an end and this feels like a brand new start. You have no idea what it’ll be like to date Jimin, but the promise of it all is too much to bear. The smile doesn’t leave your face for the rest of the night, not even as you fall asleep.

“Brunch it is.”

#Jimin smut #Jimin angst #bcccse #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #clubjimin #ficswithluv

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cora-vizsla · 3 years

Text

The Kings Pet (4)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Angst. Like this entire thing is angst. Feelings of loss. Kidnapping. Drugged (not in great detail). Unwanted sexual advances (nothing happens and no one is hurt or touched but it is presumed it would have happened if reader wasn’t a badass). Boba Fett doing what Boba Fett does. Cannon typical violence (reader can hear it happening but doesn’t see anything). Nothing super gory. Sex. Unprotected sex (established relationship). Fluff.

A/N: There is talk of a new character wanting sexual contact with reader that she does not reciprocate. Nothing happens and it is stopped long before it could happen. Boba Fett loses his absolute shit and beats the hell out of someone but reader does not see it. I tried to write this in a way that would get the point across without being too graphic. There is a LOT of angst in this. Please be prepared for that! If you aren’t sure if this would trigger you or upset you, please feel free to send me a message or ask and we can discuss it. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable! As always, if there are any warnings I miss please let me know!

Things felt different after your time with Boba and Fennec. You couldn’t really attribute it to the actual sex aspect of things because Fennec had always been physically close to you. She still pulled you onto her lap or sat on the arm of the throne and played with your hair. It was hard to admit but no one but you were really acting any differently.

Nothing physically had changed but you felt different. You woke up in the mornings and went through your normal routine. You ended up on the floor on your pillow, but you found yourself afraid to lean on your king’s leg. You could feel him looking at you, but he never asked what was wrong. You figured it didn’t matter as long as you were doing what he wanted of you. You still slept in his bed and whenever he wanted something you were more than enthusiastic. It was the only time you felt like you were actually worth much to him.

The days passed as they normally did. Boba stayed home more healing from his injuries. Din came to visit and update the king on what was happening with Bo Katan. The more you heard about her the more you disliked her. She seemed stuck up and you hoped you didn’t need to meet her. Not that you would ever say that since it wasn’t up to you who walked into Boba’s palace.

Din looked at you often, but you didn’t move. He asked you questions every now and then, truthfully trying to be friendly, but you never had much to say. You’d answer his questions in a nice way, but you could feel there wasn’t much behind your words. He seemed to notice when he would sigh and give up trying to talk to you.

What made it worse was when Boba and Din started speaking only in Mando’a around each other. You were never sent away but they stopped using basic. You would have been able to understand even huttese but their native language was far too complicated and foreign to you. You did glance up when you heard Boba say mesh’la and occasionally Din would motion towards you. The fear and idea of Boba not wanting you anymore kept you silent and unwilling to even ask what was going on.

The moment you realized he was done with you was when he commanded you to leave the throne room. New guests had come in and he immediately told you to leave. It startled you but you obeyed immediately. Fennec didn’t even watch you walk by and it shattered your heart. You were so busy being hurt that you had missed the way he had tensed when they walked in. You had missed the threatening demeanor and the way that the guest leered at you. All you could focus on was the fact he didn’t want you.

Later that day Boba stormed into the room and said he was leaving. You stayed curled up on the bed and gave him a weak nod. He looked at you but made no move to touch you.

“When I return, we need to talk.”

“Yes sir.”

Tears slipped from your eyes when he left the room, wearing all of his gear. Fennec came in and checked on you a few times, but you didn’t speak to her other than to let her know that you were fine and didn’t need anything. You couldn’t bear to look at her knowing that soon you would be gone. You silently cried until there was no way you could anymore.

It was late, definitely dark already, before you climbed out of bed. You walked into the empty throne room and ran your fingers across the seat the man you cared so much about sat on every day. You would miss more than anything just being close to him. You sat on your pillow and leaned back against the cool material behind you.

“I’m going to miss you, Boba.”

You whispered the words but jumped when you heard a laugh come from the stairs entering the room. You stood up as three men walked in, hands on their blasters. You tried to pinpoint who they were, but you couldn’t figure out where you had seen them before.

“Did the king leave his little pet all alone?”

“It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“Poor little pet. Do you need company?”

You stiffened and their voiced flooded back into your memory. They were the men that came in when Boba sent you away. You glanced over at the side to see if Fennec was near but whipped your head back towards the men when you heard a blaster click. It was pointed directly at you.

“Don’t do something stupid, doll face. If you do anything other than breathe and what we tell you to do, Boba Fett will find you dead on the floor when he comes back.”

They had been slowly moving towards you, hunting their prey. When they got close enough, the one to your left grabbed you and pulled you off the raised floor you were on. You yelped when you crashed to the floor and he laughed at you.

“I can see why he keeps you. You are a beautiful little thing on your knees.”

“Shut up. We need her in one piece. Cuff her and let’s go.”

“Alright, boss. Whatever you say.”

He hooked your arm and twisted it behind you, hooking binders to your wrist. He did the same with the other arm right after. You stumbled when he pulled you forward, trying to resist as much as you could.

“We don’t have time for this.”

You felt a sharp prick on your neck, and everything went dark.

---

Your eyes started to flutter open and you groaned. Your hands were still bound behind your back, but you were laying on your stomach. The mattress below you was dirty and you grimaced that your face was touching it. With a grunt you twisted so you could sit up.

“Finally awake. Thought maybe we had killed you.”

You looked over to your captors sitting at a small round table playing cards. The entire room was dark and cold. It still felt dry, so you wondered if you were underground somewhere on Tattooine.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Day or so. My associate gave you far too much sedative.”

You shivered at the memory of the needle hitting you. You shift your body so you could lean back against the wall and keep most of the pressure off your arms. You looked down at the chain hooked to the bracers that was firmly anchored into the wall. There wasn’t much chance of getting away.

“Why did you take me?”

The one who kept answering you scoffed and looked at you incredulously.

“You’re Boba Fetts property. When he comes looking for you, he will have to pay. Do you know how many credits we can get for the Kings pet?”

You felt your chest deflate and he noticed.

“What?”

“He was about to kick me out. He didn’t want me anymore. No one will come looking for me.”

You looked down at your knees and felt tears sting your eyes again.

“Well, we will give it a few days. If he doesn’t; you’ll still fetch a pretty penny to the right buyer.”

You curled into yourself knowing that no one would be rescuing you. You had accepted that you needed to leave but you weren’t planning on being sold off. You wished you had opened up to Din more. Maybe he would have looked for you if you hadn’t been such a pain in the ass. Fennec too. Boba didn’t want you but maybe the other two would have a shred of decency for you.

You cried while you sat and listened to them talk. They switched from basic to Huttese even though you knew it. You didn’t let them know that you knew they were going to sell you to a Hutt if Boba didn’t find you. The Hutt’s hated Boba with a passion for not stopping Jaba from getting killed so they would be thrilled to own his pet. They just weren’t going to tell them that he had already grown bored of you.

Once night fell, they decided to take turns staying up to make sure you didn’t try to break your chain. The first one was the one who had drugged you. You didn’t like how he leered at you or some of the comments he made about your legs. Though you fought it, you finally started to fall asleep. You startled awake when you heard him walking closer to you.

“Calm down, doll face. We don’t want the other guys coming out, right?”

You nodded and bit back your anger. You were fine with Boba owning you because you loved him. It was an agreement, not something being forced on you. You stomach churned thinking about anyone else touching you. As soon as he got close enough, you smashed your forehead into his nose. It hurt like hell but the blood pouring from his now broken nose was satisfying.

“You bitch!”

He backhanded you hard enough for you to taste copper in your mouth. You spit the blood in his face, and he reared back just in time for the other guys to run out.

“What the fuck are you doing!? Are you kidding me!?”

They yanked him away. One dragged him back towards where the rooms were, and their leader grabbed your chin to check your face out.

“Is that your plan now? Let your guys rape me until someone buys me?”

“Fuck. He wasn’t.. what he did wasn’t acceptable. For that I am sorry. I’ll deal with him.”

“You’re all lucky Boba isn’t looking for me. He doesn’t like people touching what is his.”

His face paled slightly as he cleaned up your face. You had a cut on your face, and it felt like you were going to have a black eye from the headbutt. Once he was done cleaning you up, he walked away and shouting ensued from the back rooms. You finally fell asleep hoping that no one would touch you.

---

You woke up to loud noises and blaster fire. You curled into yourself hoping no stray shot would hit you. There was a loud thud and yelling, telling no one to move. You flinched when heavy footsteps got closer and a hand grabbed your arm.

“Hey, hey. It’s me.”

You looked up to see Din kneeling in front of you. He unhooked the bracers quickly letting you rub at your wrists. He looked at them then up at your face. You winced when he gently grabbed your chin and moved your face to look at the damage.

“Is she okay?”

You winced again at the gravelly voice you knew to be Boba’s. Din looked back at him and shook his head.

“She’s hurt.”

“What the fuck did you do to her?”

You saw that the two left were the ones working for the one presumably dead on the floor. The one you had the least interaction with tried to explain but Boba shot him before he could say much. He stalked forward and grabbed the one who had tried to hurt you and slammed him against the wall.

“Answer me. Now.”

“Nothing. Tried to use her for what she’s good for but the stupid bitch headbutt me.”

“What she’s good for?”

Boba’s head tilted just slightly to the right. The man in front of him had no idea just how dangerous that was.

“Figured since she was known for you being your little slut you had her trained right. Guess not.”

Boba growled and grabbed him by the throat.

“She is mine.”

You winced when the crack of bone rang out in the small room as his face was met by a fist. He continued punching him over and over. A sob slipped through your lips and Din pulled you to him.

“Don’t look. Hold onto me and I’ll get you out of here.”

The silver Mandalorian wrapped his arms around you and carried you out of the room as Boba continued to beat on the man who presumably would have raped you if given the chance. You desperately wanted to get the sickening sound out of your head, so you focused in on Dins voice.

“Did he?”

“No. I fought back, and the other guys pulled him away. It wasn’t.. it wasn’t their plan.”

Once you were outside Din set you down and knelt in front of you, inspecting your injuries more thoroughly. You hissed when his fingers touched too close to your wounds and he huffed a sigh.

“Fennec should have medical supplies to take care of you. Once Boba-“

You both looked over at the sound of his spurs got closer. His shoulders were taught, and you shivered at the blood he had spattered on the front of his armor. He looked down at you, so you averted your eyes quickly. He balled his fists and started walking.

“Time to go back.”

Din helped you to your feet and you clung to his arm. Your legs weren’t hurt but they were cramping from sitting for too long. You pushed through and all three of you climbed into Slave I. No one spoke a word on the short flight back to the palace. When the ramp descended Fennec was waiting. She huffed out a sigh of relief when she saw you, but Boba quickly got in her face.

“This is your fault. You had one job and it was to protect her until I got back.”

“I-it was my fault. Boba, it wasn’t anything that Fennec did. I walked-“

He whipped around and pointed at you effectively shutting you up.

“We will speak later. This has nothing to do with you.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and walked around them, heading into the palace. You heard Din’s feet behind you, but you stopped. You had no idea where you were going. Boba had been wanting to tell you to leave, that much you knew. You knew it deep in your soul. You didn’t feel right going to his room and Fennec was going to be furious at you.

“Why don’t you sit down, and I can take care of that cut?”

“I’m fine but thank you.”

Din said your name, your real name, and you turned to look at him.

“You need your wounds looked at. Let me do it. Please.”

You finally nodded and he led you over to the raised floor by the throne. He stood to your side by your knees and gently pat at the cut on your face with the medical supplies that had been sitting there. You started crying so he stopped quickly.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Sorry. No. It wasn’t anything that you did. I.. I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated but started cleaning the cut again.

“The bruise is going to be nasty. You headbutt him?”

“I didn’t want him to touch me and my hands were tied.”

“I’m not chastising you. It’s impressive. My headbutts usually leave me less damaged. Maybe I need to get you a helmet.”

You gave him a teary laugh and smiled.

“I don’t have any bacta but I think you’ll be okay. Shouldn’t scar as long as you take care of it.”

“Thanks, Din.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do?”

You looked up at him and took a deep breath.

“If.. When Boba.. will you take me with you? I don’t care if you drop me off on a random planet I just.. I can’t be out on my own on Tattooine again.”

“You don’t want to be here?”

“Of course I want to be here but.. He’s going to tell me to leave. Especially now. He wasted his time looking for me when he had so many other things to do. He’s saved my life twice now.”

“If he didn’t want to look for you, he wouldn’t have. What is this about?”

“He thinks.. he thinks I’m only here to use him. You heard what he said. He thinks I’m only here because I benefit from it. He keeps Fennec here to make sure I don’t run. He doesn’t trust me and he.. he doesn’t want me the way I want him.”

You hiccupped a sob and covered your mouth, trying to calm yourself down.

“When he was hurt you mean? I told you not to take that personally. He was injured and scared.”

“No. He keeps Fennec here all the time. Even before that. It’s so I don’t run.”

“Is this why you’ve been so quiet lately? Boba thought he did something wrong.”

“What? No! No I just.. everything he did I could tell that he was getting tired of me.”

Din stood up tall and looked down at you. Boba was making his way down the stairs and walked directly to you. You clenched your jaw at the blood all over him and shivered. He grabbed your chin more gently than you expected and looked at the bruises and cut.

“I cleaned them up for her. I don’t have any bacta.”

“I just sent Fennec for some”

He picked up your hands and looked at your wrists, swearing under his breath.

“You need rest. Go lay down.”

“I-I’m okay.”

“I’m not asking.”

He looked down at you but with his helmet on you weren’t sure just how angry he was. You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and went back to the bedroom. You heard the two of them starting to speak in Mando’a and you wished desperately you knew what they were saying. Once you were in the bedroom you sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. The entire room smelled like him and it hurt knowing you soon wouldn’t be there anymore. Your mind was racing and the last thing you wanted to do was sleep.

“I told you to lay down.”

You jumped at the voice and saw Boba with his helmet off leaning against the doorway.

“S-sorry.”

He pulled his armor off and set it down before walking to you. He knelt down and moved so he was between your knees. He put his hands on your thighs and you internally cursed knowing he would feel how much you were shaking.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I.. I went into the throne room for.. they came in and held a blaster to me. It was late and Fennec was already asleep. It wasn’t her fault please don’t be mad-“

“What happened next?”

“They put the binders on me behind my back and when I tried to stop them from taking me, they gave me drugs. I don’t know what they were, but I was out for almost a day they said. They laughed and said they thought they killed me.”

Boba growled and tensed his hands slightly.

“What next?”

“They told me that you would pay for me. They were just waiting for you to get ahold of them and pay whatever fee they named. But I told them that you wouldn’t be coming to find me so they started finding a Hutt that would buy me instead.”

“Why wouldn’t I have come to get you?”

“I.. I know that you’ve grown tired of me and I’m becoming more of a-“

“Who said that?”

He snapped at you and you shrunk away from him. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who told you that?”

“N-no one. I could see it. When you were hurt you.. you said that you knew I was only here because of what you could give me. Fennec is here to keep me from running. I owe you and I can never give you enough to repay that. Now you’ve saved me again and I have nothing to give you. You don’t even trust me not to bolt out the door.”

He fell silent and tears started falling again. He said your name gently and motioned for you to look at him fully.

“I never should have said that to you. Mesh’la, I don’t think you’re going to run. It’s what I fear. I fear that one morning I will wake up and you will be gone. I will not hold you against your will and I fear that you stay because you do feel like you owe me. You owe me nothing.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, you silly girl. I care for you very deeply. Your insecurities are not one sided. I often find myself wondering why such a beautiful woman would want to stay with a scarred old man like me.”

“Boba, you mean everything to me. I just want to make you happy and be by your side. You started talking to Din in Mando’a and then sent me away so I thought..”

“We were speaking of you. We were trying to figure out how to talk to you. Din tried but you were so shut off he didn’t think he was making progress.”

“You’ve never sent me away before.”

“I knew they were trouble. And they were. They took you from me.”

He cupped both sides of your face gently and gave you a gentle smile.

“If it is your wish to leave, I will not stop you though I would be devastated to see you go. However, no one will ever take you from me. I will scour the galaxy to find you and keep you safe. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I gave those men mercy for killing them quickly. Well, two of them at least.”

“The one you beat was the one that want to...”

“I know, mesh’la. I am so sorry you had to go through that. He will never touch you again. No one will unless it’s what you want.”

You nodded at him, still nervous to look him directly in the eyes. He pulled you to his chest and held you tight. You tentatively wrapped your arms around him in return.

“Did I scare you?”

“What?”

“When I hurt them. Did I scare you?”

“A little. Just the sound.”

“The sound?”

“I could hear his bones snapping.”

“Sounded satisfying to me.”

You looked up at him with a skeptical look, so he laughed at you.

“I am not a soft man, mesh’la. I will always do what it takes even if that means killing. They were not the first and they will not be the last.”

“I know. I just didn’t expect you to kill for me.”

“There are very few I wouldn’t kill for you.”

“Are you mad at Fennec?”

He sighed and moved to sit down next to you. Once he did, he pulled you, so you were straddling him.

“Yes. She should have stayed in here with you. We all could tell something was wrong. She thought you were upset with her.”

“Why would I be upset with her? She’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“You started acting different after you let her touch you.”

You felt your face flush and shook your head.

“No. I wasn’t ever upset about that. It was because I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“Never.”

“Then what did you want to talk about?”

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to be here. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

“Oh.”

“My sweet girl, I am so sorry that my actions made you believe I didn’t want you to be here. When I have to go you are what keeps me coming back. You are one of the very few things that have brought me happiness in my very dark life.”

He kissed you more gently than he ever had before. You sighed and finally let yourself melt into his arms. You knew that you had been keeping yourself away from him for the most part but even before that, he never showed that much passion or care when he would touch you. It was more than you ever could have hoped for.

“You may be my pet, my princess, but you hold so much power over me. I can’t promise you an easy life, but I will always make it as enjoyable for you as I can.”

You nodded; any words you possibly could have responded with caught in your throat.

“Din told me you asked to go with him. Is that what you want?”

“No. I just couldn’t stay on this maker forsaken planet without you.”

“You never have to.”

He stood, turning so he could gently lay you down on the bed. He pulled everything but his pants off and climbed in next to you. He gently ran his fingers across your bruised face and swore in a mix of Basic and Mado’a.

“I must look like a mess.”

“You are still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You felt your face flush, so you turned away from him. He gently turned you back to face him with a sound of annoyance.

“Don’t hide from me, mesh’la.”

He kissed you again, gently, careful not to hurt you. His hands ran down your body and started to slowly and gently pull your clothes off. Part of you was terrified of him seeing more bruises but you shuddered when you remembered how dirty the bed was that you were on. Getting the clothes off would be a blessing. Once all of your clothes were discarded, he found each bruise and mark on your body and kissed them gently. You felt like your chest was going to cave in at how adored and cherished you felt. It wasn’t something you thought you would ever get from Boba.

“I am so sorry, cyar’ika. I will never let anyone touch you again. I’ll destroy planets just to keep you safe.”

“Come here.”

He looked up at you with dark eyes, blown wide with lust and something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You were suddenly afraid of him chastising you for trying to break out of your dynamic. You had never tried to be anything but obedient. Instead, he moved up, gently pulling your legs so they were wrapped around his waist. He held himself above you and kissed you gently.

“Tell me what you want, cyar’ika. Tell me what you need.”

“You. I just need you.”

He slipped his pants off and discarded them on the floor quickly, moving back to you. He kissed you deeply again, stealing your breath. When he gently pressed himself into you, a soft moan slipped from your lips. You had been intimate with him when you thought he wanted you to leave, but you’d been absent; afraid to truly let yourself feel anything for him.

“Such beautiful sounds you make.”

You expected him to turn brutal and rough since he was fully inside of you. It never happened. The only way you could describe what he was doing was making love to you. His hands held you gently and his kisses were even more delicate. He treated you like you were a prize that would easily break if he moved the wrong way. He pulled his face away just far enough to look into your eyes.

“Gar cuyir ner oyay. Ner darasuum kar'taylir darasuum.” (You are my life. My eternal love.)

You had no idea what he said to you, but you felt the sincerity. You felt the adoration coming from him. You felt stupid for thinking that the man completely consuming you would ever want you to leave. The longer he made love to you the more you felt it. He had never uttered the words to you, at least not that you understood, but his actions showed you.

He loved you.

It wasn’t very long before you were coming undone. It wasn’t the usual brutal climax that would hit you so hard you saw stars. This slowly built until there was nothing in existence around you. It was only you and Boba. Only you and your King. You were surprised when he finished with you, staying close. He peppered your face with kisses as you came down.

“Welcome back, princess.”

You felt tears starting to betray your overwhelmed state as he looked down at you. He tried to ask you what was wrong, but you pulled him close to you and finally let yourself truly cry in front of him. He held you close as he rolled to the side, not wanting to hurt you.

“You truly thought I didn’t want you anymore.”

You nodded and tried to wipe your eyes, but he beat you to it. He cradled your face and wiped every tear that fell from your eyes.

“I wish you would have just spoken to me. I could have quelled all of those fears.”

“I’m sorry, Boba.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.”

“I have a question, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

“What.. what did you say to me? When we were.. what did that mean?”

“I told you that you are my life and my eternal love.”

Your breath hitched again, and he chuckled lightly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You need to learn Mando’a if you’re going to keep hanging around Mandalorians.”

You laughed lightly and then put your hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh even harder.

“What?”

“I just.. at least Mando’a is prettier than Huttese.”

“You speak that garbage language?”

You nodded again, laughing behind your hand.

“I would much prefer to learn your language. I never know what you’re saying to me.”

“I’m usually calling you beautiful. Mesh’la. Sounds better than fucking Huttese.”

You laughed out fully again, and he tucked you against his chest, pulling the sheet across your bodies. You reveled in his touch and comfort, finally letting yourself love him the way you wanted to. He may have been one of the most dangerous men in the universe, but to you he would always be salvation.

---

Bonus:

“Stay still.”

“Ouch!”

“I told you to stay still.”

“This is stupid.”

“So is not using bacta when it can heal up those ugly bruises faster.”

“Fennec stop being so damn rough!”

“Then sit still.”

You huffed out a sigh and tried to not move. You hissed when she pressed her fingers against your bruised face, and it earned you a glare.

“No more headbutting people. Got it?”

“Din said he’s going to get me a helmet so I can.”

She finally laughed and kissed the top of your head once she was done.

“There. Now leave it alone and your face will heal much faster.”

“Thank you.”

She sat down and pulled you into her lap.

“You scared me when you were gone, pet.”

“You thought I ran.”

“No. I just knew something was bothering you, but I saw the footprints. I saw they dragged you out. So, I called Boba even though I knew I was going to get my ass handed to me.”

“Well, thank you for calling him. I was almost sold to a Hutt.”

She grimaced and then smirked at you, her usual mirth returning.

“What would you have done then? I doubt they would have felt you headbutt them. You’d just be all slimy.”

“Ew, Fennec. I don’t even want to think about that.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around you, holding you close. You rest your head on her shoulder and sighed.

“I’m glad you’re safe, pet.”

“Me too. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

Tag List: Kings Pet: @promiscuoussatan

Permanent: @mapplestrudel @cannedsoupsucks

If you would like to be added/removed please let me know!

#boba fett #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x reader #fennec shand #smut #fanfic

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gallavictorious · 4 years

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Fic: Claim

Mickey wants back into Ian's life. Ian wonders if, and how, to let him. Or, the one where our boys conduct their meaningful conversations not by talking but by having sex. Not nearly as smutty as it sounds, though; it really is all about their emotions.

Basically, this is a 3,341-word exploration of their season 4 reunion and reconciliation. Includes the infamous blowjob scene and its aftermath, so warnings for complicated consent and Ian not being in a great place in general. The angst has a happy ending, however.

Read it below or on AO3.

Claim

Afterwards, you’re almost sure they were really there. You’re almost sure you didn’t just dream them.

Debbie, grown two inches and with a face no longer quite that of a kid. Lip, looking much the same as when you left, but worried in a way he can't quite hide and you don’t think you care for. It's harshing your groove, that pinched look. They're not here to party and their voices – no, I'm good, can we talk, arrest you, stealing government property, let's go outside – cut through your happy buzz, sharp pebbles in your shoe on a sunny day, and maybe that's why you haven't told them you were back, 'cause you'd know it'd be like this. They're family and they're good people, sure you're glad to see them, but Lip's questions just clashes with the beat of the music and this is supposed to be a good time, man, so why they've got to bring up all that stupid, boring shit that doesn't even matter anyway.

You have to go mix another drink, because that's your job right, and when you look up they're gone but there are other drinks to mix, and then it's your turn on the floor and Stephen's here tonight again and has brought his usual treats, you lose him later but there's a couple of other dudes throwing a party at their place and you go and then you go to the gym for good measure – or maybe you didn't, you're not sure, but it was a good, real good, only now that strange dull ache in your head is back and you're almost sure your brother and sister came by to see you last night.

You’re almost sure.

Mrs. Bergdoll calls a greeting as you stumble past her on the way to the bathroom and you reflexibely pull your lips into half a smile, call something back. She's nice; doesn't mind you staying here even after Monica went off with some guy she met when getting thrown out of Rover's.

You shower. The water is cold but at least there's water, fuck knows how it's still running. It clears your head a little, the cold, and you start to feel better again. Sharper. What does it matter what happened – or didn't happen – last night? Today's a brand new day, and you have a feeling it's going to be fantastic.

Work doesn't start for another couple of hours, so you do a bit of writing – gotta keep up with those ideas, these thoughts you keep having; gotta write them down before you forget because what if you lose something important? – and you go for a run and grab some Subway, and then you're on the L headed for the Fairy Tail, music in your ears.

That's when it catches up with you, the thought behind the thought, the one you've been trying to outwrite, outrun, outlisten. You turn the music up up up, loud enough for the lady next to you to glare, but still the thought comes, you can't stop it, your mind keeps drifting back to last night and –

If Debbie and Lip came to see you yesterday, if they were there, if they know where to find you...

Will they tell him?

And if they do... will he come?

No. No. You don't want to think about that. He made his choice, he put on a goddamn tux and made it loud and clear for all the people to hear, in front of his fucking dad, I do, his hand in that whore's. He loves you – you are sure of it, still – but he did that, so what's love really worth, huh.

It's over, done with. He made his choice; you made yours. Maybe it didn't go exactly as planned with the army, but so what, it's better this way, you're rolling with it. Made lots of new friends, even if they don't know your real name, who cares about names when every night's a fucking party, and you wish you'd known this years ago, that life could be like this, fun, easy, no fucking heartbreak and no fucking hiding, no cares.

It doesn't matter anyway. He won't come.

It doesn't matter.

---

Two nights later you're giving one of your regulars a lapdance when there's a slap to your arm and a curt “time's up, lovebirds” and you look up and there he is.

There he is.

“Get up,” he says and you move without making a conscious decision to.

“It's my turn,” he says and sends George running and you don't know what to do or where to look and you don't even know if you're actually surprised that he's here.

“Curtis?” he says and there's a familiar sneer in his voice and you realize that you don’t want him to see you like this and it pisses you off, because you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, nothing to be ashamed of.

You could just walk away. Could call security and tell them he interrupted a lapdance or whatever, and if that doesn't get him thrown out the bunch of insults he will invariably throw at whoever comes to set him straight certainly will.

“Twenty-five bucks get you a dance,” you tell him instead, because fuck him; because you don't want him thrown out; because that’s all he is to you now, a customer. That’s all he chose to be, when he walked down that aisle.

He spits and he grumbles but he pays. He'd never have let you give him a lapdance when you were together but he pays for it now.

You push him down the black leather couch and straddle him, lean in, how's your day going?

He smells wrong. Something scented, spicy-sweet. You don't like it.

He wants to talk. You're giving him a fucking lapdance but he wants to talk and he's angry and looking at you like you're so annoying, like you're out of your fucking mind. You can still feel his semi pressing against your ass when you switch positions to lean against him, though, and as you turn your face towards his, getting close, you can smell him through whatever perfumed shit he's wearing,

Mickey.

He got married. You can't do this. He's still talking.

“Twenty-five bucks only gets you one dance,” you tell him. You stand up, away from him.

He won't let you go. Hey. You don't wanna hang out, fine. Your dad's dying. Ian. Your family. Liam.

Liam.

Something is about to burst and break open but then Roger is there and you don't know if you're relieved or not but when he asks you if everything's okay here, Curtis, you quickly reassure him, shifting to stand next to Mickey.

As you walk away, you think about how immediately, how reflexively, you moved to shield him.

---

You wake up a the crack of dawn, and maybe you should be surprised to find yourself in the Milkovich house but you're not.

Mickey's asleep in a chair in the corner, still fully dressed.

The bed smells of him, but smells of someone else too. You don't recognize the scent, but you know whose it must be, and fuck no, you're not sleeping in the bed he shares with her.

You should get out of here, maybe; get out and far away before he wakes up, but you're too tired, your legs are too unsteady for that and your thoughts too dull and slippery, so you just grab a pillow that smells like Mickey, and a couple of blankets, and you fall back asleep on the floor.

---

You wake up with a headache and to the sight of Mickey's pregnant wife towering over you. It startles you – where is Mickey – but you try to for cordiality, grasping for a couple of (probably) Russian phrases a guy you met at some party taught you.

Your attempt at charm wins you nothing. You leave.

---

“I forgot to say,” Mrs. Bergdoll tells you when you stop by the old house for a change of clothes, “but there was a couple of kids came looking for your the other day. Said you were their brother. I told them you were at work. They find you?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

She nods and blinks at you through the cloud of smoke from her hash pipe. You consider asking her for a hit to take the edge off the comedown from last night, but you don't.

They know where you work, and they know where you live.

Nothing for it then. Time to go home.

---

Liam's alive. Frank too, so far, but you don't care so much about that. Fiona looks overjoyed to see you, but looks haggard and worn thin too, and you hate that, but... you can't help but feel the tiniest bit relieved when you realize that everyone will be too busy dealing with the ramifications of her brutal fall from grace to worry very much about yours.

---

He comes for you, and this time you thought he might. He blows you, which you thought he wouldn't.

It feels good, his mouth on you, but feels like something else too, something that for a moment is better than good: vindication.

His arms are heavy on your tighs, his fingers dig into your sides as he holds on to you to keep his balance, and you close your eyes and lean your head back and mingling with the rush of pure carnal pleasure is the rush of knowing that, sure, he married her, but he'll get on his knees for you. He'll come looking for you and find you and bring you home to his – their – bed and once you run off he'll come looking again.

He'll suck your dick, just because you asked him to.

I'll do it.

You hadn't expected that. You'd laugh in surprised glee, but – because you can't quite believe it, because you won't let him off that easy – you push instead. “Do what?”

His lips twist. He glances at you, immediately glances away. “Don't make me say it, asswipe.”

You don't. You could make him; he admits as much. That can be enough, you think.

Still, you're no longer some lovesick puppy who'll come crawling back all grateful with your tail a-wagging the second he realizes what a fucking idiot he's been, you're done chasing him, so you don't bother to hide the smug teasing in your voice as you spell it out for him. You don't tell him it's cool, you don't have to when he moves to crouch between your legs.

The face he makes suggests that you're a fucking nuisance, says yeah okay whatever, but the eager quickness of his hands and the way he looks up at you with pupils blow wide suggests that maybe he, too, has longed for this; dreamed of it, maybe, and ached.

His hand is warm around the base of your dick; his tongue wet with spit as runs it along your length, once, twice, before taking you into his mouth.

You bite back a moan. You're already fully hard. It's hurried and a little sloppy but it's him and he's good at this, though fuck knows how that happened, because you're pretty sure he's only ever done this with you, and not very often at that. He likes this, you know that he does, but know too that it still costs him something; is intricately tied to all the things he's still struggling to admit and express.

You love me and you're gay. Then gentle bob of his head tells you that he won't deny it again.

Fuck, but you've missed him. You have tried not to; have tried not to think of him at all – he made his choice, he married that whore, and you've spent the last few months running from the memory of him, trying to drown the taste of his lips in the taste of strangers, there's a whole world out there, guys, so many of them, they like you, and they're not all afraid to be who are they are and want what they want.

Some of them sucked your dick. It never felt like this.

You come in his mouth. You expect him to pull away when you make a small grunt to let him know you're close, but he doesn't. Stays right on you, around you, through it. Swallows.

He's never done that before.

He wipes at his mouth and looks up at you, eyebrows raised in half a challenge, like are you fucking happy now? but there's something else there too, a hint of vulnerability still, uncertainty lingering: are you happy now?

A curious tug at your heart; a softening, and a brief flash of something that feels real, in a way not a lot of things have lately.

You allow it. You allow your walls to lower, just enough to allow him right back in, into your life and all the way into your stupid heart.

Fuck, but you've missed him.

You scoot forward and reach out to cradle the back of his head, pulling him up for a kiss. Again, you half-expect him to pull away, and again he doesn't. Instead he lifts his chin to meet you, arms wrapping around your back in a loose embrace, and the two of you never kissed much, you didn't have the time needed for it to become a habit before everything went south, but like so much else with him it just works; you just fit.

You can taste yourself on his lips and on his tongue and that's strange but you don't care. You breathe him in, his shampoo, stale tobacco, no fucking perfume that smells like someone else, Mickey,

He straightens, getting to his feet only to push you back onto your back and climb on top to straddle you, and you don't resist and the familiar weight of him pressing down on you is heat is thrilling is comfort. Your hand is in his hair, his hand is around your wrist, but after a moment he shifts to lace your fingers together. He is kissing you like you're the first gasp of air after almost drowning.

You can feel his erection against your stomach, trapped between your bodies, but he doesn't seem bothered. He kisses you, like that's all he's ever wanted to do, like that's all he'll ever want to do.

For a little while you allow it, losing yourself to press of his lips; to his nose brushing and bumping against yours; the feel of his hair in your clenched fist. For a little while you let yourself know nothing but him, and the joy of being claimed. For a little while – but then you shift, twist and push to roll over, so that you're both lying on your sides, face to face. You keep kissing him – but slower now, deliberate – as you reach down to undo his belt buckle and unzip his jeans. You don't immediately push your hand down his boxers, though: you let your fingers brush over his soft skin just above the waistband instead, let them skim just past the straining bulge of his underwear, unhurried.

His breath hitches; he curses against your mouth, but it's a soft thing, half-swallowed. He pushes forward, just slightly, looking for friction, anything, and you promptly pull your hand back, and your head back too, just far enough to break the kiss.

His eyes snap open, searching yours, and you see his face still, caught, when he finds you already watching him.

There's a question in his eyes; uncertainty; confusion. Annoyance too, in the way his brow furrows. You just raise your eyebrows pointedly and hold his gaze.

He stares at your for a moment. You wait for him to consider telling you to get the fuck on with it, Gallager, nobody likes a fucking tease. You watch him bite his lip and you wait for him to decide against demands. When he stays silent and slumps ever so slightly, relaxing into aquiencense, the thrill coursing through your body are equal parts triumph and excitement.

You take a momen to watch him and he lets you. He doesn't look away or ask what the fuck you're staring at. His face is open, beautiful, his eyes that startling blue. You used to dream about it, a long time ago; about him looking at you like this, soft.

Your eyes never leave his face as you slowly run your hand down his chest and slip it under his t-shirt to rest on his belly, and you smile a little when he lets out a long, unsteady sigh. Leaning in once more, you claim his lips for another kiss, and he responds eagerly, taking whatever you will give.

You can feel the tension in his body as your fingers roam the sharp curve of his hip; as they brush over his pubic hair; as you scratch at his inner thighs, caress and tease. You can feel the gust of air as he hisses into your mouth whenever your wrist brush against his dick.

But he keeps still. Waits.

There's a new sort of pleasure in this – in being allowed this – and for a moment you think that maybe you could keep it up for hours, but in the next you know that you could not, and his quiet moans are growing more frantic and you're starting to grow hard again, so you slide your hand inside his boxers. He whimpers as you wrap your fingers around his cock and it's not much of a handjob, really, it's rushed, too dry, but he doesn't seem to mind and you just want to feel him; want to hear his breathing quicken as his kisses grow sloppier.

He comes quickly, with a long, stuttering gasp, spilling over your hand, over his quarter zip, the sheets.

You don't say anything, just press your forehead against his, dry against damp. You hold him tight, sharing breath, while his hearbeat slows and steadies.

A minute, two. Your dick softens; you don't mind.

Eventually he pulls back a little, opening his eyes. He's flushed, still, but his gaze is sharp and clear.

You wipe your stitcky hand at his quarter-zip just to be a dick and he makes a disgusted face. “What the fuck, man?”

“It was already dirty.”

“Uh-huh. So's the fucking sheets, asshole, use those.”

You can feel your lips curl into a wide smile and see his doing the same, and then you're both laughing, like idiots, like giddy kids. He reaches for you and this kiss is languid, comfortable, and when you break apart you're still grinning.

Rolling over on your back, you reach for a cigarette, taking one drag before handing it to him. He accepts it with a pleased little hum in the back of his throat, a sound you've heard a hundred times after you've fucked him good and hard, and it goes straight to your cock, but goes straight to your heart too, so maybe you really are too fucking soft.

But he's here, isn't he, so maybe you are right to be.

You think you'd be happy to stay like this for a while, on the bed with him, just smoking, talking maybe, but: “Probably should head down and grab some dinner before they come looking for me again.” You glance at him. “Wanna join?”

“Nah, man, I'm good.” Doesn't feel like dealing with your family, most likely, but that's fine. You get it.

“Okay.” You stand, adjusting your pants and making sure there's no telltale stains. He remains on his back, looking dishevelled and loose and content, with his jeans still open and the smoke between his swollen lips.

Fuck, but you've missed him.

“I could bring you up a plate later?” you offer casually. “If you're staying.”

His eyes dart up to you and for a moment there's so much on his face, hope, worry, longing, caution, joy, but all he says is, “Yeah?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

---

A/N: Yes, Ian is being rather unfair in not considering the fact that Mickey's been through hell, and no, it's not very charming, but he's a teenager dealing with quite a few issues of his own. It is what it is.

I'm operating under the idea that Mickey went by the old house to look for Ian when he learned Svetlana had kicked him out, and found out that Ian had grabbed his things and left, and that this is what he refers to when he says “took all your shit”.

I'm actually very bothered by the fact that they don't use a condom for this, since Ian's been out and about and Mickey's had unprotected sex with a prositute, but then again, I don't really expect anything else from these stupidly reckless boys. Don't go have unproteccted sex unless you're monogamous though, kids. STD:s are real.

I guess this is kind of like the fic version of this meta I wrote a while back, I highly recommend reading the additions by other people, because they are very interesting and thought-provoking.

#gallavich #4x07 #4x08 #fic #my stuff

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x-ximenas · 4 years

Text

Midnight (Part 4)

Prompt: Midnight - 5SOS. A bit of Stay - Post Malone and When You Walk Away - 5SOS

Pairing: Female!Reader/Roger Taylor

Warnings: Sad sad things, angst, alcohol consumption, some fluffy moments (they’re small tho).

Word Count: 2,359 words

A/N: If you liked this bit, I’d love to hear some comments! If you’d like to be added to a taglist for upcoming parts comment, dm me, ask me… just communicate with me! I also want to thank @ramblingqueenfangirl for helping me proof read this!

A/N pt.2: Like most of the time, I took a few literary liberties, there are some movie things, there’s some real stuff, so… yeah

.A/N pt.3: If you’re looking to read some Brian stuff, I have a multipart story (pt. 1, pt. 2) -sadly not finished- but if you read it and like it, I’ll do my best to do something about it.

// Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 //

———————————————————————————————————–

"Where to?" He asked, but Y/N's heart spoke before her head did, and so, she found herself heading to Roger's place.

Y/N looked out the window deep in thought, her brain had gone completely numb from the few drinks she had, but despite all of that she still felt the all-too-familiar panic starting to tickle her insides, making her squirm uncomfortably on the leather seat of the taxi she was in. She was attempting to regulate her breaths as she neared Roger's house, a place she had only been to once, the first night they spent together after weeks of insistent tango.

"Hi, Dove" was the allegedly smooth opening sentence that left the lips of the blond-haired figure sliding into the booth across from Y/N

Y/N looked up from her drink with an amused smile, her eyes glistening under the dimmed light of the pub she found herself in. Her gaze swiftly ran up and down as she took in the details of the stranger facing her, his blond hair was long and shiny, its waves were loose and fell around his face, framing the outline of his cheeks. His eyes were a nice hue of blue, they shifted as the lights changed in intensity.

"Dove?" Was Y/N's reply, her smiling never faltering from her lips as she saw the stranger in front of her smile right back at her.

"Love, Darling? Which do you prefer?"

"How about my name?" She answered, shrugging slightly.

"Will you tell me? Or do I have to guess?" he teased.

"Y/N, and what's yours?" She replied, extending her hand towards the man.

He took it in his as he said: "Roger"

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Roger."

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

A couple of months had gone by since the first time she interacted with the over-confident blond, and despite how hard she tried to play the push-and-pull game they had going on; she also wanted to see what would happen when she let herself be pulled into him.

For the past few months, Y/N had grown closer to Roger, but never as close as she desired, quickly taking notice of his Casanova tendencies she knew that the proximity she desperately craved was something so out of reach for them. And so, she found herself in his net, willing to play this tense match of chess; where she was certain she wouldn't come out unbruised; still, she played and enjoyed the trip.

Currently, Y/N was in the same pub where she had met Roger, the ice in her drink had melted as time had passed, she had been waiting for the other two-thirds of her group to arrive, but they had taken minutes no, hours to arrive and Y/N was quickly growing bored and exasperated.

"Your friends aren't coming?" Asked the bartender from across the counter, as he dried a recently washed glass, Y/N looked up to meet his eyes, not expecting him to speak to her, especially after an hour or two of static on his part.

"Apparently no, I better leave, thanks" Y/N answered, slipping him enough money to cover what she had consumed for the night.

As Y/N headed for the door, a hand wrapped around her arm, the roughness contrasted with the warmth it provided. Y/N's eyes travelled down to the hand around her, then back up to meet the owner's gaze, his eyes a bright blue. It was Roger.

"Leaving so soon?" He teased with an amused spark in his eyes.

"Yeah, my friends ditched me" Y/N answered, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, I can keep you company," was Roger's gleeful answer.

"Are you willing only to keep me company" Y/N teased, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them, not really thinking about the connotation they had.

"I'd be willing to keep you company any day" Roger answered, pulling Y/N closer to him, their faces inches apart and their gazes unwavering neither one wanting to break eye contact. The tension around them was palpable.

"Would you?" Y/N asked. Her voice became hoarse and trembling.

Soon enough, the taxi came to a halt. The man driving it turned to meet the lost gaze of the somewhat broken woman in front of him, but he said nothing, other than the fee that Y/N was meant to cover.

“What was she doing here?” Y/N wondered as she closed the taxi's door, walking towards the front of Roger's place.

She stood there contemplating. The chilly evening breeze making her cross her arms as it picked at her skin making a shiver run the length of her back, yet she wasn't actually cold. Y/N rubbed her arms, the friction doing nothing to ease her nerves and warm her skin. A huff left her parted lips and made her eyes tear up just the slightest bit. She felt nothing physically but, her emotions were all over the place; the lines between them had become blurry from the alcohol she had drank earlier that night.

Her gaze was just as lost as before, not really focusing on anything in particular as her mind played scenes before her eyes, the sound from her giggles invaded her brain. The ghosts of the soft touches and kisses they had shared that one night returning to haunt her.

A moan escaped Y/N’s mouth between giggles, as Roger pressed her against the door of the small house he shared with his friends, a joyful almost childish laugh leaving him also, as, he tried to hide them by kissing Y/N, gently, as a smile tugged on both of their mouths.

Y/N’s hand travelled down coming across the lump of his house keys. She swiftly took them in her hand, stopping Roger from brushing her lips again. She turned around to open the door, Roger’s eyes travelled to her ass, outlined by the vibrant material of her red mini; his hand thought before his brain did, and hand tugged her closer to him, drawing small circles and other figures on her hip and waist. Figures that were sure to make a chill travel up her spine.

Light!

Someone had turned on a light on the lower floor of the house which made Y/N get a small itch in her throat and a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Still, Y/N took the presence of light as a cue to step closer to the front door; her lip tightly placed between her teeth making the soft skin redden close to breaking. Her hand was turned into a fist as she prepared herself mentally to knock on the wooden door.

Knock, knock, knock.

A feeling of uncertainty made her jittery and anxious thoughts started to crawl up to her mind, but the alcohol that still ran through her body stopped them, before they truly settled in. Y/N waited -impatiently- for someone to open up the door. Some newfound anger made her blood boil. But was it truly anger?

Then, the door opened, revealing a droopy-eyed Roger. His eyes filled with the left-over images of a dream he had woken up from, but the images escaped him as he took her in.

"Y/N."

Her name left his lips in a raspy voice, surprise clear in his eyes.

"You wanted to talk? I'm here to talk" Y/N answered. Her tone was anything but soft, causing Roger's eyes to widen from the intensity carried in her voice.

Instead of Y/N waiting for an invitation inside by the blonde she strutted past him.Y/N didn't Her shoulder bumped against the blond's, in a way to make her point and intent known. She sat down on the messy sofa they kept in their made-up living room, lighting up a cigarette she kept on her for an unknown reason. Roger sat in front of her, very much aware of her state of mind. He could smell the booze where he stood, and he knew that sitting beside her would do them no good.

"I- I wanted to apologize," Roger stated, breaking the tense silence that hung around the room. Y/N arched an eyebrow.

"For what exactly are you sorry, Roger?" she questioned with her eyebrow arching high on her forehead as she leaned forward resting both her elbows on her knees.

Roger's mouth gaped, blubbering like a fish out of water. He had no real response.

Y/N continued after the lack of reply from Roger.

"Cause I'm sorry for a lot of stuff, I don't know about you, though, I'm well aware that this whole situation is kind of my fault. Who told me that the right thing to do was to fall for an arse who didn't want to commit? No one told me, instead everyone told me to walk away, but I don't have the ability to do that like you do.”-Y/N paused to swallow the knot she felt tightening around her throat. -“I don't have the guts to cut someone open, take their heart and offer it to the next person who walks by."

"I didn't do that!”

“I hope you know that Y/N," Roger muttered between tightly closed teeth, as his anger rose. But unlike Y/N, he had no real grasp over his emotions.

"You didn't? Oh, so what? I'm an idiot now? Because as far as I remember, you and I have avoided the, what-are-we talk so many times. Mostly because I was scared of your answer, knowing damn well that you hooked up with other women and that you weren’t down for commitment. You don't seek it. But that fucking note? What am I supposed to make of a note, that, might I add, was left the same day I saw you Roger Taylor, with another girl, in a place you know I go. A place that you know about because I told you about it! You took her by the hand, and you kissed her in the street, something you never could do with me. Maybe you aren't afraid of commitment; maybe you're afraid of having any feelings, I don't fucking know Roger!"

"You know what? Yeah, maybe I didn't want you! Maybe you're the fucking problem, with all your inquisitive questions, trying to make me open up about love. Maybe, I was just too kind. I didn't know you were that fucking naïve, Y/N! You knew it all too well, you knew that I never stayed, that I wouldn’t stay. Maybe what Gina has that you don't is a compelling reason to make me stay!" Roger yelled at her. His anger finally spilling out as he stood up from where he sat. Red clouded his vision from the hurtful statements that came out of Y/N's mouth, because they weren't true, but maybe he was causing just as much harm as she was with his lies.

Silence fell between them. Y/N's mouth was tightly closed around the still-burning cigarette. Her eyes turning dark and clouded with tears. Y/n calmly stood up from her seat, dusting off her pants as her eyes in a deathly glare.

"Yeah, maybe she did have a better argument! Maybe I'm not enough for your big ego. but you know what I've realised now that I'm standing in front of you? I'm way better than you are! Unlike you, I don't string people along and call it love.

“I don't close up to what the world gives me and like you, you closed up on me so many times; I've lost count!”

“I have watched you leave and had to stay quiet through the process. I had to see you flirt with other women and push down the tears. I had to swallow my sadness and disappointment, not at you but at myself when you ignored my questions. Because yes, Roger, I'm naïve! I'm so naïve that I loved you and expected nothing but affection in return, but you couldn't even give me that for more than one night” Y/N retorted. Her face close to Roger's and her breath hot on his face as her voice wavered toward the end.

"Now, if we have finished talking and you have finished apologizing, which by the way, you didn't even try. I'm going to walk out that door and not turn back!”

“You understand Roger?" Y/N then muttered in a lower volume, her voice sounded like her eyes looked, sad.

He loved her. He did. But she was right, Y/N had tried, and she had fought; the only time Roger did that was before their little agreement started. The only time he did try was when he wanted into her pants, and once he got there he didn't want to leave, yet made no effort to truly stay there.

A huff left Y/N's lips, unsteady as she fought the tears that were certainly threatening to fall down her face, and walked to the door, disappointment and hurt tugging at the strings of her mangled heart. She loved him. She was sure she did, and was certain if his anger hadn't gotten the best of him, she would've forgiven him, but that wasn't the case. Alcohol pushed all her frustrations out and the constant red flag that waved before Roger's eyes screamed hatred was coming to the first person he encountered.

And so, they both walked out of each other's lives. Y/N left. Roger let her walk away and they both let their feelings get so pent up. Once they were out in the cynical world they lived in again, they became tainted with dark shadows that made the initial feelings wane.

Y/N walked the dimly lit streets. London's cold breeze made the trails of her tears feel colder than they should, but that coldness made Y/N feel something other than pain. It distracted her head from coming up with scenarios where he would run after her, fake scenarios. Totally unreal. With pain in her heart and cold on her cheeks, Y/N was the one leaving this time, not willing to turn back or stay the night.

The end? Maybe? Let me know!

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hollandarling · 5 years

Text

Loving you.

Summary: People say moving on isn’t easy. But they have no idea. They have no idea what it’s like to have to move on when neither of you wanted to. Or maybe they do, and they just can’t bring themselves to relive that pain. The pain that it took to start fighting again.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

POV: Tom

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smutty mention????, definite depression and self destructive tendencies, alcohol alcohol alcohol, basically a mess

Word count: a full ass 2.6k+ who am I???

A/N: I posted a version of this once upon a time but I completely re-wrote it so here it is again,, this is kind of a part 2 to “You” but it can be read on its own??? so yeah just go with me on this. ((( flashback in italics )))

also want to shoutout @mcumendes for being my sounding board on this I APPRECIATE YOU SO MUCH and I love you with my whole heart :’)

MASTERLIST --> PART ONE

too soon for this gif??? yes it is.

I saw you. I saw you for the first time since the slammed doors, the night where the image of your tear streaked face running out into the rain was burned into my mind. I couldn’t tell you how long it’d been, but the pain was as fresh as if it’d happened yesterday. You were there, standing in front of me—the same person that I’d known all those years. Yet, looking at your face, it’s like you were a stranger. I didn’t recognize what lay beyond your eyes, the soul that had grown to be so familiar to me. You were different, but I couldn’t quite place why. Was it the pain that changed you or was it being free of all the limitations that had forever held you back?

I stared at you, not having a clue as to the proper protocol in a situation like this. My face was greyed and sunken in from the lack of sleep and the alcohol from the night before that remains in my system until the afternoon sun hits its peak each day. I knew I looked as bad as I felt, but you were you. Effortlessly put together while your soft eyes filled with sympathy at the sight of me. The hollow pit at the bottom of my stomach became more overwhelming with each passing second that I looked at you. Bile built in the back of my throat while you spoke to me—nauseated that I had only just left another girl while I let you pity me. You were just passing through, visiting family for the weekend and you were back to Australia. My vision was blurred, no matter how hard I tried to focus in on the details on your face. God knows I tried, not knowing if I’d get the chance again…but you were gone as soon as you were there, leaving me still, standing in the doorway of the coffee shop, my body paralyzed—heart gutted more than it was before as I watched you leave me once more.

I felt the familiar sting in the back of my throat as I dove to the nearest trash bin, emptying out the contents of my stomach. My eyes prickled with tears as I stood from my knees, muttering apologies to the employees whose faces were contorted in a mix of disgust and concern. Who could blame them? I took off out the door at a dead sprint. My neglected body crying out with each heaving breath I managed to take. I reached my apartment, sputtering and coughing as the summer heat bore through my ratted hoodie I’d been wearing for weeks. I burst through the threshold, not having to have bothered to lock it in my absence. I peeled the layers of sweaty fabric off my body down to my boxers in an effort to cool down. My lungs constricted, seemingly smaller and smaller with each passing second as my state of panic worsened. I staggered around the room trying to make sense of the spinning world around me. I finally stopped moving, my palms pressed firmly on the wall where the pictures of us once hung before I’d ripped them down in a craze. My head hit harshly against the wall, my gaze focused down at my feet.

I could hear the sound of my heartbeat pounding through my ears, your voice echoing louder than the clap of thunder in my head. I squeezed my eyes shut in a desperate attempt to dull my senses but it only made things worse. My body was on overdrive. Shaking as I tried to pull myself together.

I couldn’t take it.

All this time of bottling up my emotions and it all came rushing to the surface in an unearthly wail as my fists smashed through the drywall. I connected with the wall, breaking through at several points in an explosive, all consuming, broken-hearted rage. I screamed out, yelling until I was hoarse. Kicking and hitting between broken patches until my hands were dripping with blood and the physical pain broke through the numbness—feeling the first ounce of relief I’d felt since that one fucking night all those months ago.

An arm came round my shoulder, pulling me back to reality and out of the frenzy. My eyes met Harrison’s who’s were filled with alarm and grief for his best friend that he’d watched slip away. He didn’t speak as he took in the state of the broken shell of a man before him, grateful that he had happened to show up when he did.

My lip trembled, unable to utter a communicable sound: a large lump in my throat in place of my voice. My abs contracted as I struggled to find my breath, my eyes reflecting the agony I felt inside, silently begging for help.

Harrison spoke out, voice cracking, “I don’t know what to do.”

It was then that I broke down, a series of soul-crushing sobs falling from my lips. I collapsed to the floor, sitting back on my heels as I leaned against the destroyed wall. My body ached down to my soul as I let everything out, hiccuping out broken words of everything I’d tried to keep from him.

My voice shook, barely above a whisper, “I- I don’t know how to live without her, Haz.”

He squatted down in front of me and pulled my covered head out of the safe embrace of my arms. “Look at yourself, mate.” He ran his fingers across my torn up hands that were already starting to bruise and were most definitely broken. “This isn’t you. You’ve got to be better than this. You’ve lived your whole life up until 3 years ago without her and you were just fine. You can do this, but you’ve got to stop scaring your family and I like this.”

I muttered out an “I know” not fully absorbing the information.

“You don’t know,” Harrison said, frustration clearly evident. “Every time one of us comes to check in on you, we’re worried we’re going to find you dead. Look at this place, a brewery would have less alcohol lying around.”

For the first time, I really took in my surroundings; at myself. Everything was unrecognizable and in complete disrepair. God, is this really who I’ve become?

“You’ve done it, you’ve hit rock bottom—“

“That supposed to make me feel better?” I argued.

“I’m saying,” he continued. “You can’t get any worse. You can’t feel any worse. This is it. It can only go up from here.”

He had a point, and with that I felt the slightest ping of hope.

“C’mon,” he said, offering his arm to help me off the floor. “You’re going to be okay.”

I wiped the snot from my nose with the back of my hand, only half believing. “I’m going to be okay.”

*******

The morning light shines brightly into my bedroom, casting an orangey glow against the wall. I’m wide awake, hardly having slept from the night before. Truly excited for the day to come; more-so than I can ever remember being since I was a little boy on Christmas morning. This was my first press tour, first movie release since you. The jittery feeling of something new on the horizon is alight inside of me, as if I’ve never experienced this before. I sit up in bed, spots of white light dancing around in my vision while the room steadies around me.

I look towards the half-packed suitcase lying open in front of my closet and groan, regretting that I convinced myself that I could finish getting everything together in the morning. Procrastination at its’ finest.

I drag my feet as I slump over towards my dresser. My fingers pulling at my tousled hair in frustration. I slide open a drawer and start pulling out full piles of t-shirts. Knowing full well I won’t be gone long enough to justify the hoard of them, I half ass drop the handfuls of clothes into their home for the next month anyway.

Next—socks. The luxuries of a celebrity, am I right? My hands scoop from either side of the drawer in an attempt to grab them all in one go, knowing I’ll need as many as I can take thanks to my habit of leaving pairs lying around the many hotel rooms I move between. My fingers brush against something cold and my breath catches in my throat, instantly causing my body to freeze and release the contents of my hands.

I forgot.

I pull out the object from the back of my drawer that has been covered up for months. The sound of glass crunching as my grip increases in pressure. I stare at the cracked picture frame in my hands, coming face to face with the one thing I wasn’t able to let go of.

My fingertips trace the broken glass that left the center of the photo unprotected. I wince, feeling a shard pierce through my skin. I don’t let go. Your smiling face beams at the camera, snow dusting your hair while my lips press against your cheek. This was my favorite photo of you: caught in a moment of pure bliss, with no-one holding any expectations over us. I found a soft smile spreading across my lips, surprising myself with the realization of just how far I’d come in the last year since Harrison pulled me out of the dark pit I’d dug myself into.

People say moving on isn’t easy. But they have no idea. They have no idea what it’s like to have to move on when neither of you wanted to. Or maybe they do, and they just can’t bring themselves to talk about it and relive that pain; the pain that it took to start fighting again. Saying only the bare minimum to others just so they know they’re not alone.

The remnants of our life together have slowly dissipated. Your bottle of shampoo no longer sits in the corner of the shower stall and my shower time has gone back to rehearsing lines to myself instead of running my fingers through your hair. Your remaining clothes have disappeared from your side of the closet leaving an empty space that I’m still unsure of what to do with. Fans have stopped asking questions, demanding to know what went wrong in our seemingly perfect relationship. Only on occasion am I tagged in an old photo of us and I’m reminded by the “throwback” caption of just how long we’ve been apart. Even Tessa finally decided to give up on her nightly routine of waiting at the door for you to come home from work. I didn’t know how to make her understand your reasons for not coming back but I’d never felt more guilty in my life for causing her pain.

But here I am, holding a part of you and knowing you were my one—the one that left your heart scarred and impacted the rest of your life. The one who showed you both the best and worst things in life. The one that made you afraid to love so powerfully again but yearn for nothing less. I was never going to be ready to let you go but now I’m no longer waiting for you. And I know that I’m alright.

I still find myself walking down memory lane when I least expect it, unable to forget you and the way you’d throw your head back in laughter or the way you’d blindly stumble around each morning in your sleepy daze. You and your clumsiness that led to you constantly hurting yourself or the way you’d care for my family as if it were your own. Sometimes I still feel you when I drive by the places we used to hang out, sometimes I feel you beside me when I wake up in the morning, reaching for you, forgetting that you’re not there. Sometimes I still feel you and the tingle on my lips from our last kiss, sometimes I still feel you and the heat from your fingertips on my skin: but it’s okay. It’s okay to remember you and not block out the memories we made together. You’re always going to be a part of my story, a part of me.

Loving you changed me and turned me into a better man—a man that I can be proud of. Loving you showed me how to let love consume every fiber of my being and let go of everything else, loving you taught me to overcome the seemingly impossible and strive for everything I’ve ever wanted, loving you made me stronger in learning to depend on myself and overcome pain like I’ve never experienced. Loving you showed me how to let go for the first time in my life and trust in the way things are meant to be. Loving you was so easy it drove me insane, loving you taught me how to breathe, loving you woke my soul when I didn’t know it was sleeping.

The image of your tear streaked face as you walked out the door has never left my mind…but it’s gotten easier. Easier—meaning I no longer dream of you every night, meaning I don’t need alcohol to get me through the day, meaning that seeing you about a month ago for the second time after our break up wasn’t nearly as bad as seeing you for the first. You looked brilliantly happy, but you were not the same person whose touch tattooed itself onto my skin. I could see how you had grown, how you had become everything you have ever wanted in such a short period of time.

I wish I could’ve had the courage to tell you all the things I wanted you to hear. I wanted to tell you that even though I still love you, I forgive you for walking away. I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to feel guilty for moving on with your life when I no longer fit within it. I wanted to tell you that I was wrong for holding you back, that I never should have let my fear of losing you drive you away. I wanted to tell you that I love you enough to let you go; to let you be everything you were meant to be. I wanted to tell you that I am proud that you’re fulfilling every dream you’ve ever dreamt. I wanted to tell you that I’m so happy that you’re happy. My heart still hurts a little for knowing that I’m not apart of that happiness anymore but I try to remember that this is what’s best for you, and then it doesn’t hurt so much.

It was a day of reflection as I boarded the plane and made the long trip down to L.A. but I haven’t felt more like myself in years as I stare straight ahead into the dark, the roar of the crowd not being contained by the curtain in front of me. Electricity courses through my veins, I bounce on my toes, ready once again for everything I’d worked my whole life for.

“returning to the stage, is Tooommmm Hooolllaannddd.”

The blinding spotlight floods up from the floor as I step out in front of the arena of fans that have waited for me all this time. I take a moment to take it all in, relishing in the sight in front of me.

This is my life.

This is me.

******

Tagging some of you who liked part one??? @tomhollanders2013 @holland-peters @imbrium-barnes @mischiefandi @spideypeach

#ROUGH BUT I COULDNT WAIT TO POST IT #hollandarling writes #tom holland #tom holland fan fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot

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buckitybarnes · 5 years

Text

Sticks, Stones, and Broken Bones [Eventual Bucky x enhanced!Reader] 1

Summary: When the Avengers catch wind of a HYDRA swarm at a local middle school, they’re there to see what’s up. What they find is beyond them. She’s mature for her age, she’s spunky and ready to bring the bad guys down to their knees, and most of all...she’s looking for her mom. They only want to help, but there are too many sides to this war, and very few you can trust. Bucky makes it a little more complicated when he experiences sympathy and becomes attached.

Warnings/Themes: violence/gore, Mentions of death, angst, fluff, Dad!Bucky, Reader is not the real mom, Nice uncle stevie and gang, Soft boi, humor, profanity, Mentions of a terrorist attack/school attack.

Author’s Note: For Bucky’s 102nd birthday, I give y’all a gift of starting a new dad!Bucky series because he makes me soft. This time, with a kid that’s as equally as sassy as mommy reader. This chapter has been looked over only once for spelling/errors, so keep that in mind.

Last Chapter

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Chapter 1: Mable and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

They’re coming for her. They’re going to take her away and they’re going to kill her. Open your fucking door and help me, [Y/N]!

Quickly, you throw the dishcloth onto the counter. With one glance out your window from the kitchen sink, you pause in confusion. It’s a sunny day out. No clouds. No rain. And most importantly, no murderous government agents running around the streets of Uptown New York.

“Slow down, Jeanie, what the hell are you talking about? Who’s ‘her?’ and who the fuck are ‘they?’”

Before you hear her voice through the phone, frantic knocking at your door cuts the conversation short. You hear your sister-in-law’s voice muffled behind it. “[Y/N], please! There’s no time!”

Taking a pistol hidden in the back of your knife drawer, you tuck it into your pants and rush to the entrance. You unlatch the four locks and swing it open, ready for a fight.

Only, it was just Jeanie and a bundle of blankets in her arms.

“Jean, what the hell –“

She shoves the bundle towards you and yanks open her purse, pulling out a suspiciously large amount of cash. Whatever is in the blanket is heavy and begins to wail. Realizing it was a child, your niece to be exact, you readjust your hold on her, bouncing ever so slightly to try to calm her down. You weren’t good with babies. You never had been.

Jeanie was panicking. She was wearing her pink nightgown, slightly torn and burned at the hem. Tears roll down her cheeks and her eyes widen as she realizes the weight of the situation. Without a moment to spare, she inserts the wad of cash into your front pocket and nervously glances down at her child.

“I love you, baby, I promise I’ll see you soon,” she whispers brokenly, giving her a kiss on the forehead. When Jeanie glances back up at you, her bottom lip shakes. “The family safe house. You need to go there now – everything’ll be clearer, I promise, but you need to get the hell out of here. They’re coming to take Mable away and I need her to be safe. You of all people would know how to –” she whips her head around, thinking she’s heard approaching footsteps. Pulling the door to hide you, she keeps it open just a crack to finish. “They know, [Y/N],” she cries. “They know about her, and I didn’t know who else to go to –”

Realization dawns on you and you hold the baby closer to your chest. “What about my brother?”

The haunting look behind her eyes makes your blood run cold.

They’ve got him. He’s gone.

And if you don’t act soon, so will you, Mable, and Jeanie.

You swallow quickly and nod. “I’ve got her. I’ll keep her safe.”

She smiles softly, sniffling back more tears.

A barrage of stomping pulls both of your attention.

“I can buy you time,” she starts.

“Jeanie --”

“Get the hell out of here, [Y/N]!” she snaps, slamming the door shut.

You don’t know what to do. You haven’t used your powers in so long, but you’re willing to try to save her.

Men shout on the other side and Jeanie laughs bitterly.

“You’re too late!” she announces, and from the slam, you can tell she’s barricaded the entrance with her body.

She was risking her life for Mable, and if you didn’t leave now, this would all be a waste.

Setting the baby down on the couch for a split second, you scramble over to the coat closet and pull out your emergency backpack. Very quickly, you shove the money inside along with your weapon. Whatever clothes that had already been packed will last you a few days,

Bam!

The sound of a gunshot rings through the air, and silence follows right after.

Your heart beats faster, throat closing and stomach twisting in nausea.

“Time to fucking go,” you growl, throwing the bag over your shoulder. As Mable begins to cry, you pick her up and make a beeline for the window.

Down below, you see black SUVs and armed men on the streets. As people grow curious, they point weapons in their direction and threaten them to take a step closer.

You could climb down and get shot, risk running back through the front door, or…climb.

Pulling open the window and slashing the screen with your pocket knife, you take a deep breath. “Certainly not what I wanted to do today,” you mutter, hopping silently onto the fire escape. Mable was making this difficult with her squirming and whimpering. You had no other choice.

“Alright sweetheart, it’s time to bounce,” you mumble, side-stepping away from the open window. At this point, the door has been busted open, and they’re closing in on you.

Distraction. You need a distraction.

Oh god, you hope that your powers don’t fail you now.

You focus on the police car parked a few feet away. Your head begins to spin a little, eyes water in pain. Focus. Focus. Focus. Mable begins to reach for you for comfort, a small cry escapes her lips. Yet, you can’t hear her. All is quiet for a few moments.

When you snap back into focus, the siren of the car blares loudly, lights blinking and coloring the ground. Then, it combusts into flames, sending the crowd of people scurrying in panic. It’s utter chaos below. Powerlines have been struck down as a result of your recklessness and you know that a few have been injured.

A man shouts orders to the guards, gesturing for them to follow.

As soon as they run towards the explosion, you bolt the opposite direction, climbing down one ramp at a time.

“Alright, sweetheart, time to bounce,” you mutter quietly, ruffling the girl’s hair. “You got your lunch money?”

Mable pouts, eyebrows knit in frustration. “I told you I don’t wanna go.” She grabs your hand to still it, preventing you from pulling away. “This isn’t fair!”

“Oooh, is someone starting to lash out? I didn’t think you’d still be going through puberty,” you smirk, fixing her loose scarf. “It’s seventh grade --”

“At a new school,” she grumbles. “Again.”

You ignore the statement, standing up to your full height and sighing in exasperation. “What’s the worse that can happen? They make fun of you because your name makes you sound like you’re ninety-eight?” When her face falls, you quickly shake your head. It’s been twelve years and you’re still not good at parenting. “Which isn’t true, obviously. All the cool kids are named Mable nowadays.”

“I hate you.” A small grin behind her words brings a bit of relief into your system.

“And I love you, I’ll see you after work, okay?” you laugh. Before she pulls away, you call out to her. “And remember --”

“Don’t talk to strangers and if I see a big guy in a uniform, run, I got it,” she deadpans, brushing you off. “Don’t you have crap to be doing?”

“Excuse me!” you shout. A passerby on the street looks your way. You know it seems comical that a grown-ass lady is yelling at a little girl who doesn’t seem fazed one bit. “Language!”

She only smirks, waving you goodbye. “You know, you and Captain America would be best friends!”

That cheeky little shit. You needed to start signing permission slips to opt her out of watching ‘Rappin with Cap.’

You watch her leave, her mittened hands shoved into her petticoat. She looks both ways before crossing the street, and you can’t help but feel a bit proud in that moment. If Jeanie were here to see this….

You frown.

You wish Jeanie were here to see this.

“Excuse me miss?”

You turn around to see a man with graying hair. He smiles kindly before taking his hat off. “Do you think you could point me to Centre’s Bookshop? I’m not from around here, but I heard it’s popular with the locals.”

You smile back, nodding in his direction. “It’s a little confusing. I can walk you there though since I’m headed in that direction.”

For a moment, his eyebrows shoot up. “Really? I appreciate that very much. I’ll try to keep up,” he jokes, following right behind you.

“What kinda books are you into, Mister….?”

“Pathlocke. Doctor Pathlocke,” he answers without missing a beat. He holds his briefcase closer to his side, clearly not fond of the tight sidewalks in the city. “And I need a few anatomy references for research and whatnot.”

You turn the corner onto a quieter road.

“Oh, that’s awesome! Are you a professor --”

When you turn around, he has his heavy briefcase lifted in the air. He sends you a menacing smirk before slamming a metal corner into the side of your head.

At first, you feel nothing, the shock overcoming your senses. You blink in confusion before your ear starts to ring and you see double. You press your hand against your temple, and when you pull it down to your face, you see the crimson red of your own blood.

“A professor?” he repeats calmly. “No, I’m a little more elaborate than that.”

You open your mouth to speak when he pulls something from his pocket. A syringe. He yanks the cap off with his teeth and sinks the needle into your neck.

It goes quiet. the world around you sinks. Soon enough, you're falling.

It’s the same, boring routine. No matter how many schools she’s transferred to -- and she’s been to quite a few -- it’s always the same. She really wishes she faked illness and got to stay home today.

“Class, this is Mable [Y/L/N], she’ll be joining us this year. I’d like you all to give her a warm welcome! Mable, do you wanna introduce yourself?”

She huffs in annoyance, messing with one of her pigtails.

You always said not to give away too much. There were bad people in this world after her, and she needed to lay low as much as she could. ‘Only the basics,’ you’d warn.

“I like Captain America,” she shrugs. “All superheroes, really”

“Don’t we all,” the teacher laughs, knowing that she’s had her fair share of fantasizing what life would be like if Steve Rogers strolled into her classroom one day. Of course, the kids didn’t have to know that. “Do you have any hobbies? Play any sports?”

‘The last time I played baseball, I got mad and broke a boy’s arm,’ she recalls. “Uhm...I like to draw...and watch TV. No sports.”

Her shy tone causes a few kids to snicker in her direction. Her face burns with red-hot embarrassment, but she tries her best to brush it off. “Can I sit down now?”

Not quite sensing her discomfort, the teacher shrugs. “Of course you can. And with that, let's begin today’s lesson.”

Mable likes to pretend she’s Charlie Brown from time to time. To her, the teachers sound like they’re constantly chanting ‘wah, wah, wah, wah.” If she told you, you’d be highly disappointed in her, but to be honest, she’s very good at winging tests. You’d never really find out about it.

Something breaks the white noise. The walls begin to tremble, the chalk on the board begins to clatter against the ledge. Her new classmates look around in utter confusion and she notices her teacher freeze in fear.

This wasn’t apart of the usual. This was odd.

The intercom turns on and the principal, trying his best to sound calm (but even Mable can hear the shake of his voice), calls out.

“This is a code red. Lockdown. I repeat lockdown.” He begins breathing heavy, shuffling heard behind the microphone. “Teachers, get your students to immediate --” His voice is cut off with a loud ‘wham!’ before all is silent.

Mable’s teacher is quick to yank down the blinds of her door, she looks around before ushering everyone into the back supply closet. “Everybody be quiet and stay down, please!” she demands, locking up all exits. She prays underneath her breath, and Mable’s heart begins to beat wildly out of her chest.

“What’s going on, Mrs.Hilde?” a stocky redheaded boy asks. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Can I go call my mom?”

Slamming behind the door causes everyone to jump and the teacher vehemently shakes her head, closing everyone inside the closet. She purposefully blocks the door with her body. “No. No one leaves this room until we’re cleared, okay? I need you guys to stay as quiet as possible!” she makes a “lock-and-key” motion over her mouth and silently begs the kids to follow.

“Open the fuck up! I know you’re in there! You’re hiding the girl!” a loud man shouts from outside.

Mable tears up, huddling against the far back wall. Her classmates pack together tightly, all eyes on their teacher for further instruction.

She feels an odd sense of deja vu, but she’s never experienced something like this before. Who were they and who are they looking for?

“Suit yourself...szhech' eto mesto.”

One last slam happens before footsteps come marching inside. Mable hears whimpering and sobbing from the kids around her. Still, she sees her teacher remain standing where she was, ready to give up her life if needed. It’s hot, insanely hot, and the bottom of the door lights up orange. For a moment, Mable’s teacher loses her composure, panic apparent in her eyes. “They’re gonna fucking cook us,” she chokes out, clenching her jaw. She needed to think fast, needed a game plan.

The high temperatures, nausea, and fear rolling off of the room create a terrifying stench like no other. It awakens something in Mable. She can stop this. She knows she can. Even with anxiety coursing through her veins, she stands from her spot, wobbling forward toward the older woman. “I can help, I can make them go away,” she whispers.

Mrs.Hilde has never seen such burning determination in a child’s eyes before, and she certainly didn’t expect to see it now, of all times. She shakes her head, smiling nervously. “I know you’re a strong girl, Mable, but this isn’t --”

“They’re in there!” another man outside shouts and the teacher bites down on her tongue, turning to face the door. She braces herself for whatever happens next.

But before they could open it, Mable steps in front of her, squeezing herself between the door and Mrs.Hilde.

“Mable! Stop --”

The lock is shot and the door is swung open, revealing a man clad in black. He aims his machine gun at the woman but then brings it down to Mable.

“There you are,” he snickers.

When the teacher reaching to pull Mable back, she’s pushed by the girl herself. Mable remains where she is, trembling but glaring murderous daggers up at the man. ‘When I see a big guy in a uniform, run,’ she mentally reminds herself, but something keeps her here, ready to fight. She’ll protect her classmates, and if not, she’ll die trying. It’s what you would be proud of.

“I’m gonna count to 3, sweetheart, and you’re gonna step out nice and slowly. We won’t hurt your friends in the pro --”

He flinches, choking on his own tongue. His breath grows rapid, staring down at Mable, whose eyes are now a wild magenta. He feels his gut twist and he cries in agony. “Y-you -- agh!” He coughs, a metallic taste filling his mouth. A bone inside him snaps, and it’s audible to everyone within a few feet radius. After a few seconds of struggling to breathe, he finally grows limp and falls to the ground.

Mable surveys the area and decides that the other soldiers are probably deeper in the school looking for their target. The classroom is now set ablaze and the building was beginning to collapse on its own. She notes the one door on the side that leads to the back parking lot. She turns, only to be met by a petrified closet full of classmates and her teacher.

“H-how….” her teacher squeaks, taking a large step back from the girl.

She sighs. Time to move to yet another school.

Unfazed by their terror, she takes a step out into the classroom. “You need to get everyone away, now, Mrs.Hilde,” she instructs. “Now!”

Hilde can argue with the crazy notion, but she’s seen enough strange shit today. She hurriedly commands everyone in the closet to follow her in an orderly fashion, trying not to gag at the dead body she has to pass on the way out.

Mable watches everyone head out, but something catches her eye immediately.

“Watch out!” She lunges forward, but it’s too late.

One of the ceiling beams screeches as it gives way, dropping quickly and slamming into a boy. He shrieks in pain as it pins his right leg to the ground.

Mable groans in frustration, running to him and barking orders for Hilde to continue on. “I’ve got him, go!”

“What hell do you mean, you’ve got him?!”

“You’re wasting time, Mrs.Hilde. I know what I’m doing!”

“This is fucking crazy,” she shouts, but yet another beam falls, this time, blocking her path to the two children. She gives one last look to Mable, who only smiles softly.

Oh, she’s so going to hell for this. Finally listening to Mable’s orders, she follows the rest of the class outside.

“I want my mom!” the boy cries, trying to pry the heavy material off of his leg. Mable stops him from straining himself further, shaking her head. “You’ll be okay…” she murmurs. In reality, she doesn’t believe her own words.

Where the hell were you? Surely, the news would have said something about this by now, and you being the raging mom who would walk through the depths of hell to protect her, well, you’d be here in a heartbeat.

Behind the crackle of flames, she can hear engines whirr and a cacophony of gunshots. She tries to muster up every bit of bravery and steps in front of her classmate to shield him just as her teacher did earlier. She broke a few bones of a man, she can break a few more.

“Everyone’s out, Steve, we’ve got them….all….” a voice echoes throughout the hall. Footsteps grow louder until they come to a screeching halt in front of the classroom entrance.

A tall bulky man stands with nervousness in his eyes. His mouth gapes slightly as he lowers his rifle and takes a step inside. Upon further inspection, Mable notices that his left arm is completely metal.

One of the bad guys, she thinks.

“Steve, scratch that,” he says into his earpiece. “There’s a kid here, I’ve gotta get her out.” When Mable holds up her hand to stop him, he breathes out a shaky sigh. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” he says softly. “My name is Bucky, I’m an Avenger.”

“You’re lying,” she mutters coldly.

Bucky glances past her shoulder and holds his breath when he sees a boy trapped underneath rubble. He’s got to admit that this girl’s got spunk sacrificing her life like this. Without hesitation, he drops his gun and holds out his hands in surrender. “I swear to you, I’m only trying to help. He’s going to bleed out if we don’t get him help.”

“I’m going to what?!” the boy yelps, squirming underneath and sobbing.

Bucky seems like a trustworthy man, but Mable takes precaution. She drags the gun away from Bucky, visibly struggling to hold it since it’s so heavy. Nodding her head over to the boy, she frowns. “Help him.”

Bucky doesn’t waste a second. He kneels down beside the beam, slips both hands underneath it, and lifts. His muscles bulge as he pulls it out of the way.

Mable had been too busy watching him to notice another presence entering the room.

“What took ya so long, punk?” Bucky grunts, dropping the beam. It lands onto the ground with a loud thump.

A man she’s seen before, Captain America, steps into plain view in all his spandex glory. He assesses the damage before pursing his lips. “Sorry, we were backed up by a few of them upstairs. You carry the girl out, I’ll help the boy. The paramedics should be here any minute.”

Mable can’t help but stare at her favorite hero in awe. She yelps in surprise, feeling two strong arms lift her up in the air. Instinctively, she latches onto Bucky’s shoulders, glaring up at him at the surprise. He merely grins down at her. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here, okay?”

She scoffs.

“This one’s feisty as hell, she unarmed me in a matter of seconds,” Bucky quips. Captain America merely rolls his eyes, leaving his friend to rescue the boy.

“Not my fault you’re weak,” Mable murmurs, lifting herself slightly in his arms to look over his shoulder and watch Steve Rogers at work.

She feels Bucky’s chest rumble in laughter. He’s out of the classroom in a few long strides. Captain America was now out of view, and what remains of her school’s hallway is revealed. Lockers are thrown open, a water fountain spews out water onto the floor, and what appears to be blood is pooled around.

Bucky hears the slight whimper coming from Mable as she stares at the wreck. He hugs her a bit closer, speeding up in his walk. “What’s your name?” he tries to ask in distraction.

She buries her face in the crook of his neck. “Mable,” she murmurs.

He hums in appreciation. “What a nice name. I knew a lady named Mable once. Made the best apple pies in Brooklyn.”

Mable looks up to ask him what the hell he’s going on about, but flinches when she sees someone down the hall. They’re wearing the same uniform as her earlier attacker. “Bucky, there’s someone coming!” she shouts, ducking her head and squinting her eyes.

Bucky’s quick to shield her with his metal arm. He holds her head close to his shoulder as he spins around.

“Fucking, shit,” he curses, seeing the HYDRA emblem on the soldier’s chest. He backs up quickly, scanning the area for cover, but the agent is already closing in. His gun’s out and aimed towards the two.

Mable can sense the absolute dread that makes Bucky’s stomach drop. When he tries to turn his back to the agent and pulls her head closer to the center of his chest, she resists and peers over his shoulder.

“Kid, what the hell --”

Mable’s eyes glow pink for the second time today. She feels her heartbeat pick up as she focuses on the sprinting form.

Within seconds, the form cries out in pain and slumps to the ground, his neck twisted in an uncomfortable way.

Bucky stumbles to a stop, looking over his shoulder in bewilderment and then back at Mable in realization.

She smiles weakly, her head feeling light.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles, watching as her head hits his shoulder in unconsciousness.

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