Gnawing At The Bars Of My Enclosure - Blog Posts

bare knuckle, and barely professional. | e!kirishima smau

in which kirishima is a stubborn, charismatic boxer with a reckless need for injury, and you are his stubborn, strict manager.

authors note: boxer!kirishima x fem!reader, requests are open! masterlist link here. lwk wanna write a drabble on this.. should i??

taglist: @xoxojisu @luvseraphh @cvnt4him @soundtrqck @princessshnazzy @chlosology @candiiee @203steph @chitteringcicadaeyes @idk1187 @notartemis777 @chosostonguepiercing @chocolatedefendorbaa @t33th--r0t @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @tuneinwlosers @cupkiki @lotusstarr @wokar

Ochako strikes me as someone who starts crying when she gets really happy/something sickeningly sweet and intimate happens.

Himiko, on the other hand, seems like the type to hug someone so tightly they explode when something really sweet/really happy happens. Like, too much joy, no way to express it, starts hugging people really tightly and trying to bite them.

sylnan thing i did a long while ago .. :P

OH MY GOD 😀

Trod crumbs pls? If you can?

bits and pieces from my rough drafts, taken out of order, from different chapter drafts (some of these I may or may not use or may be changed in the finished chapters)

Damn rodent 😒

Halloween Cat!Martins

Suggestions from: @yeahitstismtime @seabunnysworld @sugar--brown

the way that storytelling in the odyssey loops in on itself… everyone in the odyssey wants to know the odyssey. telemachus leaves for sparta in order to hear it. odysseus sits with the phaeacians deep into the night telling it. and he withholds it from people he doesn’t trust, only to reveal himself and tell it again. the sirens and demodocus sing to him about the iliad. penelope tells ithaca's bard phemius to stop singing because he has no songs about odysseus returning; if he can’t sing the odyssey, he shouldn't sing at all

Can I request a Pei Ming please?

here's mr romance!

okay, no shade, but youre missing out on SO much good characters moments if your girlbossify the bg3 women too much. i get it, they're big, strong, badass, but they are, like all bg3 companions, incredibly cringe in their own ways that i think we could stand to appreciate more.

lae'zel throws the worlds biggest meltdown anytime you do anything not directly related to the githyanki creche, only to almost get her shit immediately rocked. lae'zel on modern day stan twitter would be a shitshow and you cant convince me otherwise. and thats before we even mention her fighting you in act two and then immediately crying about it. babygirl its okay, we were only playing. AND TRYING TO KISS HER IN PUBLIC?? she acts big and bad in act 1, fighting rough with you the entire time, but as soon as you ask her for a little kiss? immediate embarrassment. she could absolutely wreck my shit, but shes still a meow meow.

shadowheart is just fantasy catholic. she gets mad if you pick up a statue of selûne bc shes just that catholic. dyes her hair white in a desperate emo crisis of faith moment. recites smut in public. makes jokes that land incredibly flat. is acting way cooler and more chill than she actually is to hide the fact that shes scared. SHE CHOSE THE NAME SHADOWHEART. need i say more?

karlach may be cringe but she is free, i will give her this. she gets the zoomies. she almost blows up a firework shop with her in it because shes so excited. she has a teddy bear called clive. she hasnt read a book since secondary school. she does a little dancy dance if you leave her alone for too long. her inner monologue is just about how horny she is for most people. bisexual failgirl. i love her.

and then the biggest cringefail of them all, minthara. the fact that she absolutely cannot see that every companion at camp actually does grow to really like, love, and respect her bc shes expecting treachery (bc thats what SHE would have done) is as sad as it is just a liiiiittle bit funny. darling. my wife. people like and care about you. not to mention the fact that shes been poisoning you the entire time shes been travelling with you???? cant communicate for the life of her. regularly threatens to kill you but then gets mad if you die. emotionally stunted loserbabe. we will have a july wedding........

what im SAYING isnt that the girls ARENT badass and compotent and cool, what im SAYING is that the lads shouldnt have a monopoly on complexity and depth. you get me?

JSLJDKSSJ IDK HOW TO ACT RN AWOOOO BARK BARK BARK RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

I WANNA EAT THIS PIC

hiii could i pls know the details or see the full image of the profile pic you use for Choso in your smau?? :3 he looks so handsome in it!

Here you go!! I found it on pinterest:3

I just finished binging all of these

They can all have me

READ THEM

SMAU MASTER LIST

This is where a link to all the text smau's for the JJK Men will be ❤️‍🔥 newest links at the bottom

PT1 is always Gojo, Geto, Nanami and Toji

PT2 is always Sukuna, Choso, Ino and Shiu

Here is everyone

Master List 2

JJK Men see's you on a date (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

JJK Men Ask what their contact name is (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

JJK Men accidentally (?) send you a Nude (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

JJK Men confess their feelings, on accident (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

JJK Men catch you simping (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

JJK Men don't like you asking for their friends number (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

JJK Men are down bad and booty call(text) you (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2 (horned up sequel) (non horned sequel)

JJK Men tell you to drop your boyfriend (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

You catch the JJK Men Simping (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

You wrecked your favorite pair of clothing and cancel a date with the JJK Men (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You call the JJK Men your boyfriend (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

You accidentally send JJK Men your thirsty thoughts (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

You see the JJK Men on a date (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2 (second part)

You get injured on a mission, the JJK Men react (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You accidentally (?) send the JJK Men a Nude (Pre Relationship) PT1 PT2

You ask the the JJK Men when they first fell for you (Established Relationship) here

JJK Men walk in on you changing (Pre Relationship) here

You want a tattoo of the JJK Men's bite mark (Established Relationship) here

JJK Men have a wet dream about you (Established Relationship) here

You have a wet dream about the JJK Men (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men see you out with another man (Established Relationship) here

You are down bad and booty call(text) The JJK Men (Pre Relationship) here

You ask the JJK Men how often they tickle their pickle (Established Relationship) here

You get in a fight with the JJK Men (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2 (The Apology)

The JJK Men catch you being silly on the cams (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You're getting kicked out of Japan and the JJK Men aren't having it (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You (try to) prank the JJK Men (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You're feeling insecure about your weight and the JJK Men aren't having it (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

The JJK Men leave their phone unattended around a female that likes them (Established Relationship) PT1 (Make Up 1 2)

You accidentally text the JJK Men you love them for the first time (Early Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

The JJK Men come home early and see you less than dressed in your newly shared place (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

The JJK Men notice your rapid weight loss (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You hide from the JJK Men after a particularly intense night (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

The JJK Men are tired of being second best to your bestie (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You get underwear with the JJK Men's name on it (Established Relationship) here

You get fired, the JJK Men react (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

The JJK Men are don't want to hang out with friends and need you to say no (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

The JJK Men get jealous of your K-Pop crush (Established Relationship) PT1 PT2

You wear a Hanfu Dress the JJK Men react (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men take and wear your makeup (Established Relationship) here

You wear pheromone spray, the JJK Men go feral (Established Relationship) here

You want a nibble of the JJK Men's tiddie (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men find your stuffies (Established Relationship) here

Someone's breaking in and the JJK Men help (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men comfort you about your scars (Established Relationship) here

Your baby slaps the JJK Men awake (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men see you with their enemy (Established Relationship) here

You get kidnapped, the JJK Men don't believe you at first (Established Relationship) here

You pretend to be the JJK Men (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men catch you sleeping in weird positions (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men miss you when you're gone (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men find your sketchbook (Pre Relationship) here

You're stressed and the JJK Men try to help (Established Relationship) here

You're worried you aren't the JJK Men's type (Established Relationship) here

You're ass was grabbed, the JJK Men won't stand for it (Established Relationship) here

You pop out and kiss the JJK Men before running (Established Relationship) here

Your TikTok goes viral and the JJK Men are the stars (Established Relationship) here

The JJK Men's sleeping habits are bad and you catch them on camera (Established Relationship) here

You ask the JJK Men to take your virginity (Established Relationship) here

You're struggling with your PCOS, the JJK Men try to help (Established Relationship) here

You can't breath and can't find your inhaler but the JJK Men have one(Established Relationship) here

You get caught being weird by the JJK Men (Established Relationship) here

You swapped bodies with the JJK Men (Established Relationship) here

You ask the JJK Men if you can put it in their ass (Established Relationship) here

You get the JJK Men's name tattooed (Established Relationship) here

Just finished my aizawa fan art !! im so happy TwT!!!!

*foams at the mouth and clangs on my cage*

LET ME OUT

LET ME OUT

WE SHALL BE FRIENDZZZZZ

I want more writer friends on here :(

Mentally ill about a certain character got me like

HC that Junko and Shiggy couldn't get an official marriage ceremony so they get 'married' on animal crossing.

please let them be canon in s2. please oh god PLEASE PLEASSEEEEEEE

Found one of my older drawings while looking through my gallery! Happy winter, everybody. :]

I am FERAL over these I can't take this anymore

More pictures of Robert Sean Leonard and cast-mates from the All the Frozen Ones industry reading in October 2024.

(shared by @ethanhcwke on twitter/x)

i’d let him fill my holes 🛐

I genuinely cannot comprehend when people say they don’t find Josh Hutcherson attractive. Yeah, everyone has different types. But oh my fucking god??

He’s so cute, hot, handsome and fine all at the same time. I could stare at this man for HOURS straight and i’d love every minute.

This man lives in my head every second of every day, and I hope he never leaves.

This scene of Mike and Abby in the FNAF movie makes me feel like a victorian man seeing an inch of ankle

This is perfection - I can feel Gregor’s presence and energy through the screen. I need to know what dark magic I need to do to live inside this fic please and be the object of his adoration. Please and thank you.

All Lost Time

Pairing: Gregor x fem!Reader

Words: 9,547

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! established relationship, fluff, a little hurt/comfort, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, pinv, nipple play, multiple orgasms, edging, overstimulation, oral fixation?, marriage and kids talk but no pregnancy kink, Gregor is very chatty during sex but I think we all knew that, and he is head over heels obsessed with reader as he should be

Summary: After months away, Gregor is finally coming home to you. And he's made it his mission to make up for every second you've been apart.

A/N: I blame @cyaretra for this!! This is my first time writing Gregor so be nice to me okay thanks

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

It’s silly, you think, that Gregor still makes you feel this way. 

You’ve been together for nearly a year now, but every time you see him, the flutter in your stomach and the way your heart starts pounding are as strong as the first time he smiled at you and asked if you wanted to get dinner.

It was an instant attraction. And at first, you couldn’t understand why. You were a communications officer embedded in the Republic Navy, hopping ships month to month, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t been surrounded by clones day in and day out since the war began. You thought yourself immune to their good looks, their charming smiles, and their boyish humor.

But there was something different about Gregor. His eyes lit up when he talked. He had a sense of humor. He had a story. And when the stolen frigate he was on showed up out of the blue in the middle of a battle and fired a full salvo at the Separatist flagship, well...you were smitten. You couldn’t help but find his antics amusing, endearing, and downright attractive.

He asked you out the second time you saw him. The third time, you kissed him.

The fourth, well, things got a little out of control.

Now, standing here in your apartment, counting down the seconds until he arrives, you can hardly believe how quickly the last year has gone by. How, in spite of the constant threat of danger, and the never-ending war, and the fact that you rarely have the time to see each other, he’s still the person you want to spend your time with.

The one who makes you laugh, even in the darkest hours. The one who makes you want to fight just a little bit harder. The one you can call, no matter how late it is, just to hear the sound of his voice.

And the one who can make you feel this excited, this giddy, this happy, just by walking through the door.

The second you hear the soft beep that means someone has punched in the code to your apartment, your heart leaps. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. It doesn't work.

Your heart jumps again when the door slides open.

Gregor steps inside, carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder and looking a bit sheepish. He gives you a shy grin.

You stand there, just staring at him, unsure what to do, afraid that the moment you move, he'll vanish like a mirage.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hi."

There's a pause. A long one.

And then a huge grin spreads across his face, and a second later, the bag hits the floor with a thud. Gregor crosses the room in two quick strides, sweeping you into his arms. You let out a little yelp of surprise, and he laughs as he peppers your neck and face with kisses.

You can't help but laugh along with him, even as you tell him to stop. You try to wriggle free, but his hold on you is firm. Your squirming only makes him squeeze you tighter, his arms around your waist, his lips traveling up your neck and making you shudder.

"Stop, stop," you say, still laughing.

"Why?" he asks, his mouth pressed against your jaw. "I missed you."

"I can tell," you reply, and you tilt your head to give him better access. "Missed you too"

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. It's longer than the last time you saw him, and he groans appreciatively as you gently scratch his scalp. His kisses turn softer, more reverent, and a warm feeling spreads throughout your entire body.

"Welcome home," you whisper, and his hands move to your hips, pulling you closer.

"I could get used to hearing that," he murmurs.

He moves down to your neck again, and the warm feeling intensifies, turning into heat, burning hotter and hotter with each passing second. His fingers trail up the side of your ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They come to rest on the bare skin of your lower back, and when his thumb begins tracing gentle circles, a soft moan escapes your throat.

You know that if you let this continue, you'll never get out of this entryway, but right now, you're not sure you care. All you know is that his hands and his lips are setting your skin on fire, and all you want is to feel him everywhere.

"Did you... have a good trip?" you ask, gasping a little as his teeth scrape over your skin.

"Mm-hmm," he mumbles. His lips find the spot under your ear and stay there. You squirm in his arms, but only because it's ticklish, not because you want him to stop.

"How was Felucia?" you ask, breathless.

"Fine." He sucks at the pulse point on your neck, and you whimper, tightening your grip on him. "I got to fire a few blasters, kick a few droids, save the day. The usual."

"So... you're... all in one piece?"

He pauses, pulls back a little, and looks down at you. His grin turns mischievous.

"What do you think?"

You bite your lip. Your hand trails down his chest and stomach, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You look back up at him, batting your lashes innocently before your hand slips lower. He catches his breath as you cup him through his pants, stroking lightly.

"You feel like one piece to me."

Gregor's mouth covers yours, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue teasing your bottom lip until you open your mouth and let him in. You're barely aware of him steering you toward the wall. It isn't until your back hits the cold, smooth metal that you realize how dizzy you are, how hot and needy you've gotten from nothing more than a few touches and his kisses.

He pins your hands above your head, and you feel the pressure of his thigh between your legs. You moan, arching up, and he moves against you, grinding slowly. His mouth leaves yours and moves to your throat, and you tilt your head back and close your eyes, letting him have his way with you.

"I've thought about doing this the entire trip home," he murmurs, his hands leaving yours. One of them finds your waist, holding you steady as he moves his leg back and forth. The other slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across the skin of your stomach. He pushes the fabric up, baring your chest. You gasp, shuddering, as the air cools your hot skin.

"You have?"

"Oh yeah." His mouth moves down, his lips closing around the tip of one breast, his tongue flicking out. "Had plenty of time to think."

You thread your fingers through his hair and hold him to you. He sucks and bites at you, sending sharp pangs of pleasure and pain through your body. Your hips rock against him, searching for relief.

"You don't think that's a little... unhealthy?" you ask. He chuckles, and the sound vibrates against your sensitive flesh. He lets go with a wet pop, and his lips ghost across the valley of your breasts and onto the other one. You shiver and press into him.

"Not at all."

You moan as his tongue slides along your skin, lapping and circling. He sucks, harder and harder, until the pressure is almost too much to bear. You cry out, and he stops, pressing a gentle kiss over the bruise that's already forming. He looks up at you, his pupils blown, his smile wicked.

"You know what I miss most when I'm away?" he asks, his words a whisper against your skin. His thumb circles your nipple, and you suck in a breath, squirming. 

"What?"

"This," Gregor says. He presses a kiss to the top of your breast before his hand moves south, cupping you through your pants. "And this." He slips his fingers inside your waistband, finding the edge of your underwear. "And definitely this." 

His thick fingers push under the thin cotton fabric and stroke through the slickness. He finds your clit and rubs, slowly and gently, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart right there.

"Mmmm," you moan. "That's a lot to miss."

He teases you a little, his fingers sliding lower, finding your opening and thrusting once, shallowly. You whimper, your legs trembling.

"Well," he replies, sliding one finger inside you, "it's a good thing I've got plenty of time to make up for it."

Your breath catches in your throat as his finger strokes the place deep inside you that makes you shudder and shake. He's got the perfect rhythm, and just the right amount of pressure. You close your eyes and tip your head back, arching against the wall as your mouth parts and little, high-pitched noises of pleasure escape.

"So beautiful," Gregor murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "So soft and warm. Like a little ray of sunshine in my otherwise miserable existence."

"Stop," you whisper, though it's the last thing you want him to do.

"Stop what?" he asks. "Stop calling you beautiful? I don't think so."

"But—"

"Oh, yes you are," he cuts you off. 

Gregor takes a step back, removing his hand. You whimper at the loss, and he gives you a smile before dropping to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with an expression that can only be described as worshipful.

"In fact," he says, pulling your pants down, "let me show you how beautiful I think you are."

You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Gregor has a way of making you feel things that no one ever has before, and his words alone are enough to bring you to the edge. But when he looks at you like that, and when he speaks to you the way he does, all husky and low, it's hard not to let go.

As if he knows this, his eyes lock with yours, and his mouth curls into a smirk.

"I think I'd better take a closer look," he says, and his tongue slips out, tracing along his lower lip.

He grabs hold of your waistband and pulls, and your pants and underwear slide down your legs. You lift one foot, and then the other, stepping out of them, and he tosses them aside. He kisses the inside of your knee, and then slowly moves up, kissing his way along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your legs tremble. Your hands shake.

He reaches the top of your leg, and then stops.

"Gregor?"

"I could stay here forever, you know," he says, pressing another kiss to the inside of your thigh. "It's my favorite place in the entire galaxy. So soft. So perfect."

You're about to protest, but before you can, he spreads your folds with his fingers. Your words come out as a cry, and your hands fly to his hair, clutching his head and pulling him closer.

“And this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Your knees buckle. Gregor steadies you, his laugh hot against your skin. "You know, it's really unfair that I don't get to do this nearly often enough."

"You do just fine," you breathe, "when you're here."

"Just fine isn't good enough," he replies. He leans in again, flicking his tongue over your clit. You gasp and arch toward him, and his arms slide around your waist, holding you tight against his face. "You deserve more than just fine.”

You have a feeling he's talking about more than just this, but before you can ask him, his mouth covers you, and any words that were going to come out turn into a long, drawn-out moan.

You close your eyes and tilt your head back, getting lost in the sensation of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, teasing. One of his hands finds yours and laces your fingers together, holding tight, grounding you, and reminding you that no matter where you are, no matter what else is going on in the galaxy, this is real. This is where you are. This is the only thing that matters.

Gregor's free hand moves to your thigh. He urges you to part your legs further, and you oblige, leaning back against the wall and sinking lower, letting him lift your leg and place it over his shoulder. His tongue laps at your entrance, teasing, and then moves higher, circling your clit again and again.

You gasp. Your toes curl. Heat builds between your legs, and every movement of his tongue makes you shiver and tremble. Gregor knows exactly how to play your body. He's mapped every inch of you. He knows the right amount of pressure, the exact movement that will send you careening over the edge.

And it makes it all the more frustrating that he seems determined to keep you hanging on, never quite pushing you over the cliff.

"Gregor, please," you moan.

"Please what, sunshine?" he asks with a laugh, and you whimper as his lips brush your clit.

"Don't make me say it," you whisper, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks.

"Oh, no, no, no," he replies, shaking his head. "You're not getting off that easy. I want to hear it."

You groan and drop your head forward, looking down at him. His eyes are bright, his smile is wicked, and his fingers are teasing your slit, not quite going in, but just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through you.

"I want you," you whisper, trying not to whine. "I want you to make me come. Please."

"Your wish," Gregor murmurs, his voice low and rough, "is my command."

His tongue finds your clit and stays there, stroking, teasing, flicking. His fingers slip inside you, first one, then two, and curl, stroking the spot deep inside that makes you scream.

The heat between your legs builds and builds until it becomes unbearable, until your thighs are shaking and your vision is blurring. You can't breathe, can't speak, all you can do is clutch his hand and moan, louder and louder as the pleasure swells.

"Yes," he whispers, his lips and his breath and his voice sending a cascade of shudders through your body.

Finally, his mouth covers your clit, and he sucks hard, his fingers thrusting deeper.

You come apart. Your body goes taut, your head tilts back, and a cry escapes from deep in your throat. Your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave, and you cling to Gregor's hand as if he's the only thing keeping you from being swept away.

He keeps going even after the spasms stop, and soon, you're building up to another peak. The intensity is too much, and you try to pull his head away, gasping his name. He doesn't stop. He holds you tighter and doubles his efforts, his tongue lapping and his fingers pumping.

"Oh, no," he says, holding fast. "I'm not done yet. I still have plenty more to make up for."

"Please," you moan, though whether it's because you can't stand any more or because you don't want him to stop is anyone's guess.

"I think..." Gregor murmurs, his fingers curling inside you. You buck against his hand, moaning loudly. "I think I might have to do this a few more times. Maybe all night."

His mouth covers you again, and you close your eyes, giving in to the sensations. Your whole body is trembling, every nerve is singing, and the pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming, that it almost hurts.

He takes you higher and higher until the heat and the need are unbearable. Little moans and noises escape him, and the way his tongue and lips move faster and faster against you let you know that he's just as excited by this as you are. He's just as aroused by giving you pleasure as you are by receiving it. And the thought that he gets so much enjoyment from this, and from knowing that he can make you feel this way, is what finally pushes you over the edge.

You scream, and your entire body shakes and spasms. Your nails dig into his hand, and he holds tight, letting you ride out the pleasure until the tremors finally subside and you collapse, boneless, against the wall.

Gregor's fingers slip out of you, and his mouth goes slack, letting go of your clit. He gently lowers your leg and stands, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as the aftershocks make your body shudder and twitch.

"There," he murmurs, planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Much better."

You giggle, breathless.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Definitely," he says. He pulls back, just a bit, and cups your chin in his hand. His thumb runs along your lower lip, and you open your mouth, letting it slide in. He groans as your tongue flicks across his skin, his forehead falling forward and resting against yours. "That's one night's worth of missed opportunities. And there are... a lot of nights to make up for."

You grin, letting go of his thumb.

"Well, then, I suppose we'd better get started," you reply. Your hands move to his belt, fingers dancing across the cold metal. You look up at him through lowered lashes, biting your lip. "My turn?"

Gregor grabs your wrists, pulling them away. You whimper.

"No," he replies. He gathers your wrists in one hand, and the other lifts to stroke your cheek, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, I want to make love to my girlfriend. The way I've been wanting to the entire trip home. And that means I get to be the one taking care of you."

"Oh, come on, Gregor," you say, pouting. "Let me make you feel good too."

"Nope," he says. He steps back and starts pulling off his shirt. "This is a night of self-indulgence, and that means I'm going to take my time and do everything I've been fantasizing about doing since the last time I saw you."

"Is that right?" you hum, raising an eyebrow. You start to push off the wall, but his hand stops you, his palm flat against your chest. He shakes his head.

"Nuh-uh," he replies.

You groan. "Gregor, that's not fair."

He laughs and tosses his shirt aside, reaching for the buckle of his belt.

"It's plenty fair. I've been on Felucia for months, fighting hordes of vicious battle droids and trying not to die." He pulls the belt from his pants and tosses it aside. "It's been a stressful couple of weeks, and I think I've earned the chance to do whatever the hell I want."

"And what is it that you want?" you ask, crossing your arms.

He pauses, and his expression changes. His eyes darken, the black of his pupils swallowing the brown, and his grin fades. He looks at you like he wants nothing more than to devour you, and it sends a wave of heat over you so powerful you feel your knees weaken.

"Go get on the bed," he growls, "and I'll show you."

And oh, there's the tone that makes your heart beat faster and your stomach do flips. The tone that lets you know that, tonight, it's not just about the physical, but something so much deeper, and a thousand times more intimate.

You hesitate, and he takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing.

"I said..."

"Yes, sir."

Gregor grins, and his eyes light up.

"There's my girl," he murmurs.

You can't help the smile that comes to your face, or the way you blush and bite your lip, and Gregor's grin grows wider. He grabs your cheek, squishing them slightly as he pulls you in for a kiss, soft and gentle and sweet.

"Go," he says when he pulls away.

You nod.

He kisses you again, and then lets go. Gregor's hands find your hips, and he gives you a little shove forward, making you yelp and giggle. You hurry down the hall toward your bedroom, stripping off the rest of your clothes as you walk. Every step feels like you're walking through a haze, a dream, something surreal and wonderful.

By the time you reach the bed, you're naked. You throw yourself down and bounce a little on the mattress, feeling giddy. The bed is made, as always, but you grab the blankets and fling them back, creating a messy, rumpled mess that would ordinarily drive you crazy.

It's a few minutes before Gregor comes into the room, but when he does, the sight of him makes your heart leap.

He's still wearing his pants, but his feet are bare, and his shirt is gone, leaving his muscular torso completely exposed. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, clinging to the thick lines of muscle and dark hairs that cover him. You can see the lines of a few fresh scars, and some older ones, but the thing that really gets you is the look on his face. He's trying to keep himself in check, to remain calm and controlled, but there's something behind his eyes that makes it obvious he's fighting to keep from jumping on top of you.

"So, how do you want me?" you ask, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.

Gregor walks slowly toward the bed, his hands behind his back. His eyes roam over your body, and his gaze burns hotter than a solar flare. His lips are parted, and his breathing is a little uneven, and the fact that this man, who has seen so many terrible things, and experienced so much death and destruction, has no trouble being completely undone by you, is intoxicating.

"Gregor?"

He takes a deep breath. His gaze meets yours, and his lips curl into a grin.

"Perfect," he says, smiling softly. "Exactly like that."

You're blushing furiously now, and the desire burning in his eyes is making it hard for you to catch your breath.

Gregor approaches the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the outline of his erection through his pants, and your fingers itch to grab hold of him, to stroke and tease and make him feel the way he made you feel. But as soon as you sit up and reach for him, he pushes your hands away and straddles you, pinning your arms at your sides. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue slipping past your lips and exploring your mouth.

"Tonight," he whispers, pulling back, "it's my turn to do all the work."

"I don't mind working," you say, arching your hips against his. He gasps and then chuckles.

"Next time," he replies. He plants a soft kiss to the end of your nose and presses his forehead to yours. "Next time, I'll let you do whatever you want. Tonight, it's just about me taking care of my girl."

"What if I don't want to be taken care of?"

"Hm..." Gregor hums, pretending to think. "Tough."

His lips meet yours again, and his kiss is hard, demanding. Your hands struggle against his grip, wanting to touch him, and when he finally lets go, they fly to his face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him closer. Your mouths open and tongues tangle, and he shifts, settling himself between your legs. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and arch up, trying to press your body against his. But he resists, keeping himself hovering over you, denying you the friction and pressure you desperately want. You can feel him through his pants, so close, but it's not enough, and you squirm, whimpering into his mouth.

"Not so fast, beautiful," Gregor says.

"You're teasing me."

"Yes," he replies, sliding a hand down between your legs. "Yes, I am."

"Gregor—"

He shushes you, slipping two fingers inside your entrance, and all other thoughts leave your mind.

His fingers curl and stroke, and you buck against his hand, whimpering. He knows your body almost as well as you do. He can bring you to the edge faster and with more intensity than you can yourself. And the fact that he's doing it without even touching your clit is driving you insane.

"How are we doing, sunshine?" Gregor asks, and the smugness in his voice making it obvious he already knows the answer.

"So... so good," you manage, biting your lip.

"Just good?" he teases, slowing his pace. You squirm, trying to get his fingers deeper, but he holds back. "Are you sure there isn't something more I can do to improve the experience?"

"Oh, stars, please, Gregor, please."

"That's what I thought."

His thumb brushes your clit, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your eyes fly open as you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He resists, and you moan in frustration.

"Gregor, please," you say again.

"Please what?"

"Touch me," you reply. "Kiss me. Make me come. Just, please, don't make me wait any longer."

"All in good time, my love," he murmurs. He kisses the base of your throat, sucking lightly at the spot just above your collarbone that makes you shiver and moan. "All in good time."

You bite your lip and hold on to his shoulders, waiting for him to continue. He kisses his way down your neck, pausing every so often to suck and bite and lick. Each touch sends little jolts of electricity through your body, making you hot and needy.

By the time he reaches the valley between your breasts, his fingers are moving deeper inside you, and the slow, steady strokes of his thumb against your clit are nudging you closer to the edge again. You arch your back, pressing your breasts closer to him, begging him to move his mouth lower. But instead of doing what you want, he turns his head and bites your nipple, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through your body.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers. He presses a kiss to the top of your breast, his tongue swirling over to soothe the sting. You cry out, arching up, and he laughs. "Every part of you."

His fingers curl inside you, stroking the spot deep inside, and your head tilts back. The pressure and the heat building between your legs are almost unbearable, and the only thing keeping you grounded is his free hand, stroking your hip and the crease where your thigh meets your body. He moves his thumb from your clit, and you whine in frustration.

"Look at me," he says, and when you glance down, his eyes lock with yours. They're dark and serious, the same way they were when he ordered you onto the bed. But now, the look on his face is full of affection and adoration, and it makes your heart melt.

"Do you know what I think about when I'm out there?" Gregor asks, his fingers still moving, and it takes everything in you to stay focused. "When I'm fighting those droids, and the shooting stops, and everything goes quiet?"

"W-what?"

"I think about this," he replies. "I think about coming home. About getting to be with you. About getting to make love to you. About getting to hold you, and kiss you, and taste you, and touch you."

"Oh, stars," you whisper, his words sending a fresh wave of heat over your skin. You arch up again, trying to press closer, and he chuckles.

"I think about how lucky I am," he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against yours. His hand fists in the sheets beside your head while the other continues to move, slow and steady, deep and intense. "I think about how much I love you."

"Gregor..."

You feel the tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and you pull him closer, kissing him deeply, your tongue sliding past his lips and meeting his. His thumb brushes your clit, and you let out a high-pitched whimper, your whole body going stiff.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips. "And I will never get tired of showing you how much."

You cling to him, unable to speak, and he kisses you again, long and slow and sweet. He kisses his way down your chest, stopping to lavish attention on your breasts, sucking and nipping and swirling his tongue. He moves lower, and lower, kissing his way across your stomach and down your thigh.

"So beautiful," he whispers, pressing his lips to the spot right above your knee.

He lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder, and turns his head, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

"I used to be afraid I'd forget," he says, his voice low and hoarse. His fingers curl inside you, and he kisses higher, closer, and closer. "You know. That my memory would go again, and I wouldn't remember you. Or us. Or the way it felt to be here with you."

You swallow hard. "Oh, Gregor, please, don't..."

"But it didn't," he says. He's still moving his fingers, slowly, almost lazily, and the sensation is driving you crazy. You rock your hips against him, trying to get him to go faster, but he stays in control, keeping his movements steady. "It didn't go. Because no matter what, no matter where I am, no matter how bad things get, you're the one thing that never left me."

"Good," you say, gasping. "Because I never want to leave."

Gregor kisses the inside of your thigh again, and then presses his face to the place where it meets your hip.

"I wish I could keep you with me," he murmurs, nuzzling and nipping and licking. "Everywhere I go, everywhere I am, all I want is you."

You feel the heat building between your legs, and the pleasure coiling deep inside. It's slow and intense, and the longer he goes on, the more desperate you get. You want to reach for him, to clutch at him, to pull him closer, but you're afraid of breaking his spell. He seems to be in a trance, his mouth moving over your skin as if he can't stop.

And if it means being this close, having him this near, having him this intimate, this passionate, this whole, then you will gladly let him do whatever he wants.

"I don't ever want to lose this," he says, kissing his way up the opposite thigh.

"You won't," you promise. "Never."

Gregor moves back to the spot on the inside of your thigh, biting down harder, sucking, licking. Your breath hitches as you feel the delicate veins burst, the skin bruising under his teeth. A few days, and it will fade, but for now, it will be a mark of his love, a reminder that you belong to him. That he belongs to you.

He pulls his mouth away and presses his face to your hip again. He's still stroking his fingers, slow and deep, and it's starting to become too much. It's becoming hard to think. Hard to breathe. You arch against him, but he keeps his rhythm, holding you down with the weight of his body.

“I want to stay like this forever," he says, kissing the space right below your navel. “Stars, sunshine, I want to devour every inch of you. Want to spend a week, a month, a year with my face between your legs, because that's the only place in the universe where I'm actually happy."

"Gregor—“

"I could live there, you know," he cuts you off. "Forever. Wouldn't even mind. Just you and me and a big bed and nothing else."

"But no food," you reply breathlessly, unable to resist the joke, your eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't need it."

"You'd get hungry."

"For you." He kisses his way back down the other thigh, leaving a trail of tiny bruises behind. "Nothing but you."

"Fuck, Gregor," you gasp as he sucks at the crease of your leg and your pelvis, his fingers still stroking, his other hand tightening its grip on the sheets.

"I love it here," he murmurs, his breath hot and humid against your skin. "Love the way you smell, and taste, and the noises you make when I kiss you here..." He trails off, and his tongue finds your slit.

You cry out, arching against him, and he pushes his face between your legs, lapping at the wetness.

"Oh, Gregor," you moan, grabbing his hair, pulling him closer. You can feel him grinning against you, and his laughter makes your toes curl.

His tongue moves in long, lazy strokes, and his fingers are still going, in and out, curling and twisting. You're panting, writhing beneath him, the heat creeping up your legs toward your core, and he holds firm, his mouth and his hands continuing their work.

"Gregor, please," you whisper, and he lifts his head.

"Please what?"

"Let me touch you."

"No."

He presses his lips to the place above your clit, sucking gently, and you whimper.

"Please."

"No," he says. "You don't need to touch me."

"But I want to," you protest.

"And I want to touch you."

You groan and let your head fall back, and he goes back to his task, his tongue finding your clit, licking and lapping, and his fingers speeding up, thrusting deep.

Your orgasm is building slowly, the heat and the tension growing more and more, and your entire body is trembling. Tears build in the corner of your eyes, your legs are shaking, and your toes are curling. You feel as if you're standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. All you need is one more push, one more movement, and the wave will crest and the pleasure will spill over.

"Gregor, please, I can't," you whimper, your hand fisting tighter in his hair. He moans against you, and the sound reverberates through your body, sending a new wave of shudders over your skin. "Don't stop, please, don't stop, please..."

He doesn't say a word, but his hand grips your thigh tighter, and his fingers keep their steady pace, in and out, curving and stroking. His tongue dances along the length of your slit, teasing and licking, and finally, when you're sure you can't take any more, his lips cover your clit, and his tongue presses against it, circling slowly.

You break.

Your back arches, your toes curl, and a cry rips from your throat. White-hot pleasure floods your senses, and you grab the sheets, gripping them tight. The spasms spread from between your legs up your thighs, through your stomach, to your chest, and down your arms. Your thighs clamp down hard around his head, and he laughs, his breath warm against your wet skin.

"Yes," Gregor murmurs, his voice hoarse, and he grunts as you squeeze his head tighter. His hand grips your leg, holding fast. He continues his movements, slower now, letting the pleasure build and then fall, and his free hand slides up, finding your own and lacing his fingers through yours. Your hips rock, following his pace, and he doesn't stop until the aftershocks fade and you lie there, boneless, panting, and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You lie there, unable to move, unable to think. Your thighs fall open, releasing their grip on him, and Gregor kisses the inside of one leg and then the other, letting his lips linger before sitting up and stretching. You watch him through hooded eyes, a lazy smile playing across your lips.

"Wow," Gregor says, licking his lips. “That was a good one."

"Mmm," is all you can manage. You try to sit up, but your arms are still shaking, so you let yourself flop back down. Your hands reach blindly for him, and he laughs, catching one and pressing a kiss to the palm.

"Oh, no," he says. "Not yet."

"But you didn't—"

"Not yet," he repeats, his smile turning wicked. 

He leans down, kissing you softly, and then moves off the bed. His hands find the waistband of his pants and slides them down, revealing the bulge of his cock, thick and heavy, straining against the fabric of his briefs. The sight of his erection makes your mouth water, and you reach for him again, but he shakes his head.

"Not. Yet."

You groan, frustrated, but Gregor just laughs. He drops his pants and steps out of them, his thumbs hooking in his underwear, pushing them down, and his erection springs free. His cock bobs, hard and red and dripping, and you bite your lip, waiting.

“How many more do you have in you?” he asks as his hand closes around his length and strokes slowly. He groans, his head tilting back, and your stomach tightens at the sound.

You blink hard, your brow furrowing. "How many what?"

"Orgasms," he replies, his hand still moving. Your eyes follow the movement, mesmerized by the way his palm and fingers wrap around his girth, the head appearing and disappearing through the ring of his thumb and forefinger. "How many more can you handle?"

"Um... I..."

You can't form words. Your brain feels fuzzy, and all you can focus on is the desire that's burning through your veins. Gregor's cock twitches, and a bead of pre-cum drips down the shaft. Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and his grin grows wider.

"Come on," he says. "Give me an answer. Four? Five? More?"

"Maybe three," you reply, still distracted by the movement of his hand.

"Three sounds good," he says, and the way his voice drops, low and rough, sends a shiver down your spine. "I can do three. Now..."

He lets go of his cock and crawls back onto the bed. You grab for him, but he bats your hand away, shaking his head.

"No, not like that," he says.

"Then... how?"

Gregor lies down, stretching his arms above his head, and you frown.

"What are you—"

"Come sit on my face."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes go wide.

"You're kidding."

"Nope," he replies. He grins, his gaze dropping lower, to where you're still wet and throbbing. He pats his shoulder. "Hop on."

"What? Why?"

"Because I said so."

"That's not an answer."

"Because I want you to ride my face until I've made up for the last three months," he replies, and his voice is low and thick, sending another shudder through you. "Now get over here."

You stare at him for a moment, stunned, and then slowly move, straddling him. You hover over him, your knees on either side of his shoulders, and his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you fast as you position yourself over his face. You feel a little ridiculous, but Gregor doesn't seem to mind. He simply grins up at you, and then, without any warning, his mouth covers you.

You cry out at the feeling of his mouth on your oversensitive flesh. It's almost too much, and the first swipe of his tongue has your legs trembling. But he's insistent, his hands tightening around your thighs, holding you in place as his mouth and tongue go to work.

"Gregor—"

He moans, and the vibrations travel through you, making your thighs tremble. You lean forward, bracing yourself on the wall, and his tongue darts out, swirling and swirling.

You let out a whimper. You're still sensitive, still coming down from the four orgasms he's already given you, and your body feels boneless and limp. But the way he's working, the way his mouth and tongue are moving against you, makes it hard to keep your thoughts straight.

You lean forward, resting your head against the wall, and your breathing becomes heavier and heavier. Your hips roll against him, and his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, keeping his face buried between your legs. You glance down to see his eyes are closed, his brows drawn together as he works, and the sight of him so focused, so intent, so hungry, sends a new wave of heat through you.

It's too much, but not enough. It's overwhelming, and yet, somehow, you want more. You need more. The heat is building in your belly, and you know it won't be long before you're right back where you were before, and yet, the intensity is a little frightening. He's not even touching you, not really, and the thought of what might happen if he does has you terrified.

"Gregor, please," you moan, reaching for him, but he shakes his head, not breaking his stride. His tongue swirls around and around, and the heat coils, tight and hot and unbearable. "I can't. I can't. Please, stop, it's too much."

He pulls back, and you gasp in relief.

"Do you really want me to stop?" he asks, panting. His lips are slick with your juices, and his chin is shining. His pupils are blown, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is mussed. He's a complete wreck, and you've never seen anything sexier in your life. "Do you really want me to let you go?"

"No," you gasp, swallowing hard.

"Do you really want me to stop making up for all the nights I've been gone?"

"No."

"Good."

He grabs your hips and pulls you back down, his mouth covering you once again. You moan and squirm, your hand flying to the back of his head, fingers fisting in his hair. He hums his approval, and the vibrations make you gasp and buck against him.

"Oh, yes," you whimper, rolling your hips. You can feel his stubble rasping against the soft skin of your inner thighs, and his nose nudges the place just above your clit, making you squirm. "Please, don't stop."

He doesn't respond, but his hands slide up to cup your ass, squeezing gently as his tongue moves faster. You brace yourself on the wall and the headboard, grinding your hips against him, and he groans. You can hear him panting, can feel his chest rising and falling beneath your knees, and his eyes are squeezed shut, his brows drawn together.

The heat and the tension build, and soon, you're right on the edge again. He doesn’t keep you there this time, though. Instead, he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer and closer, until you feel like you might explode. And when you think it can't get any better, he reaches up and slides his fingers inside you, pumping and curling.

Your entire body goes rigid, and a loud, long moan escapes your lips.

"Stars, yes," Gregor groans.

He keeps going, faster and harder, and you come, gasping and shuddering. He doesn't stop, just keeps moving, his tongue and his fingers bringing you to another peak before you've even finished the first. You're screaming, begging, and the world starts to go fuzzy. All you can feel is the pressure, the heat, the intensity, and all you can see is his face, buried between your legs.

By the time you peel yourself off him, Gregor is a mess. His face is covered in your slick, and his lips are red and swollen, his hair sticking to his forehead. He's breathing hard, and his chest is heaving, and when you manage to lift your head and meet his gaze, you can't help the giggle that escapes your throat.

"You look like a mess," you say.

"I'm not the only one," he replies, and the huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

"I don't think I can do any more," you tell him.

"Sure you can," Gregor says, and he slides his hand up to rest on the small of your back. His fingers stroke the damp skin, and the heat and the electricity are still there, just below the surface. "Just give me a minute, and we'll try again."

"We will?" you ask, biting your lip.

He nods, grinning, and reaches up to wipe his face. His fingers find their way into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. The sight of his lips wrapped around his fingers makes you shiver, and when he finishes, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Yeah," he replies. "We will."

"And what if I can't?"

"I think you can," he says. His hand moves lower, grabbing the base of your ass, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh, massaging and kneading.

"Oh," you breathe. "Okay. Um... how?"

"Just relax," Gregor replies. His hand squeezes tighter, and his thumb strokes the soft skin, sending a tingle through you. "Relax, and let me take care of you."

You nod and close your eyes, letting the feeling wash over you. He continues to rub, his movements slow and soothing, and you can feel the tension leaving your body. You’re boneless and liquid, and every time he touches you, a little shockwave travels up your spine, making you shudder.

He maneuvers you easily, flipping you over onto your back and pushing your legs apart. He settles between them, and his mouth finds yours, kissing you deeply.

You can taste yourself on him, and the sensation is enough to make you gasp and writhe. You're still sensitive and overstimulated, and every touch of his skin against yours is almost unbearable. You clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer, and his lips leave yours, trailing kisses across your jaw and down your neck.

"Still alive?" Gregor asks, pulling back just enough to look at you.

"Barely."

He grins and kisses you again. His cock is pressed between your legs, hot and throbbing, and he grinds against you, moaning softly. The feeling of his shaft rubbing against your slick skin is intoxicating, and the desire begins to build again.

He's moving slower this time, his hands stroking and teasing, and he seems intent on touching every inch of you, making sure not a single part of you is neglected. He's everywhere, kissing and nipping, his fingers exploring and massaging. You cling to him, your hands roaming over his broad, muscular shoulders, his chest, and the thick muscles of his arms. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving scratches and welts, and the noises he makes send a wave of heat over you.

Gregor shifts, and the tip of his cock finds your entrance.

"You want more?" he asks. "Or are you done?"

"More," you whisper, clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer. "Please, I want to feel you."

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, though it's obvious that's what he wants, too.

"Positive."

He captures your lips in another heated kiss before he pushes your hand away and positions himself at your entrance. He teases a little, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

"Because I can keep doing this," he says, "and just come like this. On you."

"Gregor, please," you groan, frustrated, and he laughs.

"Okay, okay," he says, and he shifts his hips, pressing forward, and he enters you.

The sensation of him stretching and filling you is exquisite, and you let out a long, low moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. He groans and pushes deeper, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His stubble scratches at the sensitive skin, and his teeth find the place where your neck and shoulder meet, sucking hard as he starts to move.

His pace is slow and steady, and his lips and teeth are on your neck, leaving bruises, marking you, claiming you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper, and he groans, his hand fisting in your hair.

"Stars, I've missed you," Gregor murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.

"I've missed you, too," you reply, arching up, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Never going this long again," he continues, his voice ragged. "Can't stand it."

"Me neither."

He kisses his way up your neck and along your jaw, finally finding your mouth. You kiss him, long and deep, and his hand leaves your hair, moving to the side of your face, cupping your cheek. He's being gentle now, the urgency and desperation replaced by tenderness and love. You kiss him harder, clinging to him, and he moans, thrusting deep until his pelvis is flush against yours.

"I love you," you whisper, and Gregor lets out a soft sigh.

"Love you, too, sunshine," he replies. "Love you more than anything."

You close your eyes and hold him close, relishing the feeling of his body on top of yours. You're hot and sticky, and you can taste the sweat on his skin. You're tired, and spent, and a little sore. But it feels so good to have him here, inside you, with nothing between you. Nothing except love. And that's enough.

"Tell me again," Gregor whispers, his hand slipping between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit and strokes slowly, and you arch, whimpering. "Tell me again."

"I love you."

He groans, burying his face in your neck again, and his pace picks up, his fingers circling your clit faster. You wrap your arms around him, clinging tight. The pleasure builds slowly, but it's there, and it's getting stronger with every thrust.

"Again."

"I love you, Gregor."

A tiny gasp escapes him, and he pulls back, looking down at you. His eyes are bright, and he's smiling, his hair damp with sweat. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and he turns his head, kissing the center of your palm.

"Good?” you ask.

"So good," he murmurs. "Too good."

"Too good?"

"Yeah," Gregor says, his laugh shaky, and his head drops down, his forehead touching yours. "If I had known it would be this good, I'd have run away from the GAR as soon as I found you and never looked back."

"You wouldn't," you reply, smiling and running a hand over his hair.

"For you?" he asks. "Absolutely. Just ask. I'd walk across the galaxy if you wanted. Take on the whole kriffing Separatist army. Slay a dragon. Whatever you want."

"You don't need to slay a dragon for me, Gregor," you say with a laugh.

"Fine. A dragon, a rancor, a Dathomirian devil-bat. Whatever. You name it, and I'll do it."

"Gregor."

"I'm serious, sunshine." His pace is speeding up, his thrusts getting deeper, and the pressure of his thumb is getting harder. You moan and arch, and he grins, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Just say the word."

"Gregor," you breathe, gasping as his hand slips down, finding the spot behind your knee and urging your leg up. "I don't need anything but you."

He smiles, the look on his face one of pure adoration, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"Oh, sunshine," he says, leaning down and kissing you softly. "I am going to marry the hell out of you."

The words surprise you. It's not the first time he's said it, but each time feels like a little thrill. A reminder that, even though your life is full of uncertainty and danger, you have someone who loves you, and would do anything to keep you safe, and would never leave you. It's a promise that, someday, all of this will be over, and you'll have a home and a family and a place in the world, together.

"Is that a promise?" you ask, unable to keep from smiling.

"Damn right it is."

He kisses you again, deeper, harder, and his hand finds yours, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing your palms together. You clutch his hand and close your eyes, lost in the moment, the heat and the desire and the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

Gregor's breath is coming faster now, his thrusts a little rougher, and the way his hand is moving between your legs is sending sparks of electricity through you. He's so close, and you can feel him starting to lose control. You cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him and holding tight, and he buries his face in your neck. His hips start to move erratically, the sounds he's making driving you wild.

"We'll get married. As soon as the war's over. Or before, if you want,” he mutters into your skin. "Have a whole bunch of kids. Be a real family."

"Yes," you agree, gasping, the pressure between your legs building to an almost unbearable point. "A huge family. Enough kids to start our own squad."

"Stars, yes," he murmurs, his teeth nipping at the base of your throat. “Lots of kids. And lots of grandkids. And I'll be there for all of it. And we'll be happy and safe. And... oh, fuck, sunshine, I'm not gonna last much longer."

"Neither am I."

He groans, and his hand moves faster, stroking you harder, and the spasms are so close. You're right on the edge, and when Gregor pulls back, looking down at you and giving you that soft smile, it sends you careening over.

You come with a scream, clutching his hand and pulling him closer. The tremors rip through you, and he follows, crying out your name as his body goes rigid and his hips jerk and stutter. His release spills into you, hot and thick, and you shudder, riding out the waves of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel him grind deeper, his hips pressing hard against yours, and he lets out a low moan as his cock twitches and pulses inside you.

Finally, the spasms stop, and the two of you collapse, breathing hard, clinging to each other. You lie like that for a long time, holding him close, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the aftershocks making you tremble and shake.

The muscles in your stomach and thighs are burning, and Gregor's weight on top of you is a little uncomfortable, but it feels good, and you don't want him to go anywhere. You never do. You wish you could stay like this forever. Just the two of you, safe and sound and far, far away from the rest of the galaxy.

"Wow," you murmur.

"Yeah," he agrees with a sigh.

You're quiet for a moment, and then, Gregor lifts his head.

"One more?" he asks, his eyes hopeful.

You laugh and shake your head, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He grins, and you cup his cheeks, pulling him down and kissing him gently.

“Maybe after dinner,” you say, and Gregor laughs.

"Fair enough."

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the space between your breasts, and then rolls onto his side, pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head. You snuggle against him, resting your head on his chest and listening to the sound of his heart beating. The feeling of being in his arms, safe and loved, is better than any orgasm, and you feel yourself relaxing, drifting toward sleep.

You're nearly there when he speaks again.

"What do you think? Is a spring wedding okay with you?"

"Hmm?" you hum, forcing your eyes open and looking up at him.

"For our wedding. It's my favorite time of year,” he replies, tracing his fingers lightly across your back. "When everything comes back to life. And I think you'd look really good in a flower crown."

You chuckle and press a kiss to his shoulder. Your lips trail across the scar there, and his arms tighten around you, squeezing a little.

"Sure, Gregor. A spring wedding sounds wonderful."

"Oh, good," he says. "And maybe, if we can talk Cody into taking a few days off, we can have him marry us."

“Does he have the authority to do that?”

"I think so. I've never asked him, but it doesn't hurt to check. If not, I bet General Kenobi would do it. He likes you. Plus, it would be a nice gesture to show him that we appreciate all he's done for us."

"Okay, yeah," you grin. "We can ask them."

"Perfect," he says, his hand traveling up your back and over your neck, and his fingers tangle in your hair. He tilts your head back, and kisses you softly. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I."

Gregor grins, and he pulls back, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes. You settle in next to him, and a wave of peace washes over you. For the first time in three months, you're completely at ease.

All the fear, the worry, the anxiety that's been weighing on your shoulders is gone, and in its place is a sense of rightness and contentment. It's like everything has clicked into place. Like you've been floating, lost in a storm, and the anchor has finally hit the ground, holding fast.

It's not the perfect ending. But it's close. And it's what you've needed.

"I love you, Gregor," you whisper.

He doesn't answer. His chest is rising and falling steadily, and his face is relaxed. You smile and press a kiss to his chest.

It's just as well. There will be plenty of time to tell him.

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on your side / wolffe x fem!jedi!reader

for @ireadwithmyears <3

summary: having to distance yourself from wolffe after a slip up is a lot harder than you thought it would be

tags/warnings: 18+ for suggestive stuff, angst! with a happy(ish?) ending, forbidden relationship, love confessions, kinda idiots in love, wolffe is down bad and not sorry about it, reader is lowkey delirious and v emotional bc of lack of sleep, allusions to sex but otherwise sfw

song: on your side — the last dinner party

prompts: #21 "when's the last time you actually slept?", #9 "come lie with me, let me hold you."

a/n: okay it's official, wolffe is my fav clone to write for. um, idk if anyone else has ever been so exhausted but not able to fall asleep to the point where you’re literally distraught? I hope this is not a unique experience otherwise this fic makes no sense lol

event masterlist / star wars masterlist / join my taglist / wc: 3.1k

request period for this event is over, dialogue prompt is in bold :)

You messed up. Big time.

The memory of your misdeeds still replayed in your mind, days, weeks later. Your mind lingered on how his rough hands felt against your skin, how his breath mingled with yours, bodies melding together. His words haunted you, adulations whispered in a tone you’d never heard, sentiments you wouldn’t soon forget, no matter how you tried to.

Wolffe had invaded your brain even before you'd fallen into bed with him, but now it was inescapable.

You'd known it was a mistake as it was happening, that stepping over the line would do something irreversible, something you couldn't follow up on. The guilt of doing that to Wolffe, of letting him believe it was something that could be, was eating you alive. If you didn't feel so strongly for him then all of this would be so much easier, and could be written off as a simple blunder — but nothing about this was simple.

Wolffe had been shipped into an active warzone only hours later, and though worry pulled at your heart more than ever, you couldn't help but be partly relieved. When he’d returned, you felt even more conflicted.

He had caught your eyes from across the hangar, something distinctly timid and unlike him in the way he looked at you, and you had to tear your gaze away and leave the space. You couldn’t be anywhere near him. It hurt too much. You knew he’d noticed that you were avoiding him, it would be impossible given how close you were before everything had transpired, but he obviously had the restraint not to mention it.

Sleep was eluding you because of it. Pulling away from Wolffe felt like a physical pain, like the connection you had unwittingly created through the force was being sawed at, and you could feel every ridge of the knife as it cut. If anything, it was proof that you had become too close, that your connection ran too deep.

Now, duty demanded you be in the same room as him, and it was every bit as excruciating as you had expected. You were stood beside him in the command centre, and while your eyes were plastered to Plo Koon, all of your attention was taken by Wolffe.

You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you as you spoke, almost feel his breath against your cheek, the warmth of his body beside you. His presence was intoxicating, and even when you closed your eyes you weren’t free of it. His unique presence in the force reached out for you, and while you knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally, you wished he would stop. The familiar feeling made it so much harder not to fall into his arms and forget everything that held you back; a warm blanket, a comforting steadiness, deep red in colour, like the very last sight of the sun against the horizon.

You escaped as soon as you could, scampering from the command room at the first opportunity, but it seemed that Wolffe was done with the silent treatment. He grabbed your arm as you made it out into the corridor, dragging you into a quieter corner of the ship, a hall that ran to a dead end. His gaze was serious when you finally met it with your own, and it turned your stomach. You didn’t know if he was angry or hurt, nothing was given away in his demeanour.

Finally he spoke in a low voice, “are you alright?”

You blinked up at him, wondering how he could be so concerned by you at this moment. His hand still gripped your arm gently, his eyes darting between yours, brows furrowed. He took in your features like he’d never seen you before, and the scrutiny made your gaze drop.

“I’m fine” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.

“You weren’t in your room last night”

Your eyes raised back to him as your heart skipped a beat, “how do you know that?”

“I went to see you” he confessed, never wavering in his serious gaze.

“Wolffe…” you sighed, looking up at him with a pained expression, “you shouldn’t have done that”

He huffed, stepping into your space, “why not?”

You exhaled slowly, “you know why”

Something in him stiffened, and he took his hand away from you, “what were you doing?”

“I just… I couldn’t sleep” you admitted, running a hand over your face.

“Why not?”

You sighed at his persistence, “it doesn’t matter”

“It matters to me” he muttered, his eyes flashing with hurt. He tentatively brought his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb under your eye. You knew you must look exhausted, and closed your eyes to let the feeling calm you. “When's the last time you actually slept?”

“I don’t know” you spoke quietly, almost ashamedly. Your eyes fluttered open to see the stern look he was giving you.

“Sarad’ika” he whispered the name he called you in only the most quiet of moments, drawing closer so his forehead almost touched yours. “If you won’t…” he sighed, “if you won’t let me take care of you then you need to take care of yourself”

Your heart seized up in your chest. “I—” you didn't know what to say, everything was running through your mind but it was all getting caught in your throat.

Your stuttering was interrupted by the sound footsteps reverberating off of the walls of the otherwise empty hall. Wolffe backed away from you, though he still started at you intently, even as someone walked between the two of you. Unlike him, it snapped you out of it.

“I— I uh… I'm going to my quarters now” you mumbled out, tongue tripping over your words.

You turned quickly, stalking down the hall in wide strides and not daring to look back.

It was the middle of the night and still, sleep wouldn’t take you. The frustration was getting on top of you again, and you paced back and forth in the small space of the ship that was yours. Hot tears sprang to your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and your hands gripped at your hair as if it would alleviate the tension in your head. You had been silently crying long enough that your head had begun to ache, and you silently begged to gods you didn’t believe in to let you sleep, to shut your mind of for just a few minutes so you might finally slip into unconsciousness.

It had been coming to this every night, where you felt as if you were being driven insane because sleep eluded you.

With a small sob, you darted for the door. A distraction, that’s what you needed now. You might wander the halls of the ship as you had in previous nights, or hole up in a cupboard somewhere so you could cry until all your tears were spent. You grabbed your robe as you went, clutching the thick material in a tight fist, but as the door zipped open you almost collided with something, someone.

Wolffe stood tall in the doorway, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. He took in your distressed state, eyes widening at the recognition of tears staining your face, and he reached out to you on instinct, taking ahold of your arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay” he immediately began to soothe you in a voice that was too soft for him. It only made your breathing more unstable, and you choked on your sobs. Wolffe backed you into the dark room and closed the door behind him, “what’s going on?”

The confusion — the worry — it was so plain in his eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach. You dropped your robe to the floor.

“I just—“ your words were halted by your own sob, and you hid your face in your palms, “I’m so tired, Wolffe”

His hands wrapped around your wrists, his skin warm against yours, and he peeled your hands away from your face. He snaked his arms around your waist without another word, offering the relief you would never ask for but so desperately needed. You took it unashamedly, burying your face in his chest, letting yourself relish in the comfort of his touch. As your weeping continued, he held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head to stroke your hair as he whispered comforting words.

The exhaustion had clearly got to you. There was simply no other reason for this display of raw emotion.

As your breathing calmed, the storm in your mind subsiding to a grey fog, Wolffe’s grip loosened. He pulled back and took your face in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into its warmth just a little.

“Now,” he spoke quietly, “are you going to tell me why you can’t sleep?”

You sighed deeply as you averted your gaze, “do I have to?”

“No” he replied, “but it could help”

Your eyes creeped across his handsome features, taking in every mark, every freckle. You couldn’t burden him with everything that clouded your mind, you wouldn’t place another weight upon his shoulders when the war already saw him stretched so thin.

You shook your head, releasing yourself from his grasp and turning away, “it won’t help, it’ll only make things worse”

“Stop shutting me out” Wolffe’s voice was stern as he spoke up, and you looked up to find his brow furrowed deeply, the hurt evident in his eyes and the downturn of his lips.

“I have to” you said quietly, almost a whisper.

“No you don’t” Wolffe huffed, moving to crowd you against the table behind you, “I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this, why you won’t look at me all of a sudden. I thought—”

He stopped himself. In all honesty, you hadn’t been thinking an awful lot about what Wolffe may be thinking about what had transpired, and as much as you knew you should bury the whole incident, move on and forget, a part of you needed to know. What he thought, what he was thinking now, what he felt. You shouldn’t ask, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Thought what?”

You could see that he regretted letting the words slip. “I thought things would be…” he trailed off for a moment, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation, “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be different from this, after—“

His teeth ground together. A quiet curse escaped him as he hung his head in defeat. He knew as well as you that this conversation would only breed more unease. You swallowed, taking a moment to centre yourself.

“We can’t be like that” you muttered.

You knew it was cruel, that he didn’t deserve to hear it put so bluntly, nor did he deserve what had already happened. You had been cruel, consistently, in entertaining this idea of the two of you, and even crueller in making him believe it could be. That was why this was necessary. It couldn’t go on.

He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was uncharacteristically timid, his words almost shy.

“Would it be so bad?” he asked.

“Yes! Well, no it— but we can’t, I mean— I don’t know!” you could feel your breath becoming short again, and Wolffe placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Hey, breathe” he spoke softly.

You didn’t deserve him, that was clear to you now. He was too gentle, too good to you when you didn’t deserve it. Your breath steadied under his touch, and you couldn’t face pushing him off this time.

“This is what’s got you worked up?” he asked, and you nodded in reply. His face softened, and he raised a hand to your cheek. “Ner cyare” he whispered, “please don’t trouble yourself over me”

“I can’t help it Wolffe, I—”

I love you

You could so easily say it, and you would mean it, but putting it out into the world would go beyond crossing the line.

“I’m sorry, that I’ve been pulling away, but I can’t— I can’t do this” you insisted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, unable to name exactly what it was.

“Why not?”

It was a simple question, but the answer was far more complicated. Wolffe gave you nothing but patience as he waited for the reply. His gaze was soft, as soft as it got with him at least, though any amount of tenderness that could be drawn from the man would be considered a feat. It was part of the reason that you struggled to answer him. It was simply too distracting, witnessing the depth of his feelings for you first hand.

When the two of you had slipped up, spent the night with limbs entangled in the cot just a few short steps from you now, it had somehow not occurred to you that Wolffe was in just as deep as you. He had shown his admiration in more ways than one; whispers against your lips and skin, tender touches and a sense of care in every endeavour. In the throws of pleasure it hadn’t registered as anything but that — seeking pleasure.

Now you weren’t sure.

“Because…” you began, barely uttering the word.

There were reasonings you could use, but none would present themselves as you looked into his eyes and were confronted with the depth of your own feelings.

“Because…?” he prompted, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Because nothing” you frowned, “because I’m a fool, and because you don’t deserve the only kind of relationship I could give you”

Wolffe matched your frown, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it Wolffe, I’m… I’m a Jedi, right? You know what that means?”

He pressed his lips to a hard line, unimpressed at the reminder “I know what it means”

You exhaled shakily, and a sadness washed over you, “I couldn’t… I could only be yours in private, I wouldn’t be able to touch you in front of others, to hold your hand or even smile at you for too long. I wouldn’t be able to show the galaxy how much I love you, and that hurts me”

A second passed, and you realised what had been said.

It was as if an airlock had been opened, and all the air sucked from the room. The both of you stood perfectly still, staring at each other with widened eyes. You had crossed the line. It was all hypothetical up until now. But now, it was real. Neither of you moved, or breathed, until Wolffe let a quick and heavy exhale slip, as if in disbelief.

“Love?”

You swallowed thickly.

“I—“ you bit the inside of your cheek as your cheeks burned hot, “I didn’t mean to… tell you like this”

“Is it true?” he asked, deadly serious. His eyes searched yours, for what you didn’t know, but you knew the answer was already obvious in the way you dropped your gaze guiltily, as if the very act of falling in love were wrong.

“Yes” the whisper had barely left you when Wolffe surged forwards and met your lips with his.

He was warm, inviting, eager. He kissed you like a man starved, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and you let yourself give in. You kissed him back more insistently, and let his tongue pass the seam of your lips as he begged for entrance. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him tightly, as if he was scared you might slip from beneath his fingertips. This feeling was becoming too known to you, too comfortable. It felt too right.

He pulled away, placing his forehead on yours with intention, “I love you, ner sarad’ika”

Your breath was knocked from you upon hearing the words, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth stretched into a tentative grin. You advanced forwards and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips, and felt him smile back against you. Something about it set your heart fluttering more than anything before. Wolffe still held you, a hand flat against your back to keep you close, where the other held your jaw.

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip as he regarded you, speaking softly, “you have such a pretty smile”

A heat crept up your neck even now, after everything that had happened. Though soon, it began to transform in its meaning. Your smile faded, tears collecting in your waterline once more, and the heat burned at your collar uncomfortably. You didn’t cry as you had before, but the tears fell freely all the same.

Wolffe sighed, wiping them away with a disapproving shake of his head, “I said not to trouble yourself over me”

Your lips twisted with doubt, “you deserve so much more than this, Wolffe”

“It’s not about what I deserve” he reasoned, “it’s what I want”

“But I can’t give you anything”

“I don’t need anything”

You deflated with a huff, “it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be”

“I disagree” he mused, pressing a kiss to each cheek to collect the remnants of your tears, “I love you, and for maker knows why, you love me. I think that is all that’s important”

You pressed your lips together to stop them from shaking as you felt yourself welling up again, but Wolffe was all too quick to swoop in.

“We’ll figure it out” he promised, “together”

Looking up at him through teary eyes, you found your lips twitching upwards, “together”

The word was a comfort. Neither of you would have to navigate the struggle in isolation, you would support each other.

Wolffe nodded against you, and took your hands in his. You only realised now how they were shaking, and he pressed his forehead into yours with more purpose, peering deeply into your eyes as if he were looking upon your very soul.

“Come lie with me, let me hold you”

Your brow pinched, and you nodded your head in reply. He tugged you over to your cot gently and laid you down in the soft sheets, then stripped himself of his armour to lay beside you.

No more words were exchanged that night, for everything had already been said. His body was warm against yours, and though it didn’t magically lull you to sleep immediately, it was an undeniable comfort. Wolffe fell into unconsciousness before you did, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Watching him rest calmed your mind. It gave you faith that any hardship the two of you faced going forward would be worth it. He was worth it.

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@cummodus was being mean to me so I wrote some Acacius + Geta lap sitting. Platonic. CW for childhood trauma/abuse and self-harm.

( AO3 )

---

“You’re being careless again,” the General said.

There wasn’t any judgement to his voice, but Geta was finding it difficult to swallow despite. Instinctively, he always expected there to be shouting: a sudden grinding of the chair’s feet against the floor, a tall figure standing, and a burning blow against his cheek that’d turn his head so fast his neck would hurt for it as much as his face did later. He could imagine it (remember it) so vividly that when he lifted his hand again to reverse his move, his hand was shaking.

He knew Acacius could see it. Every bit of his fear and this cursed weakness he couldn’t shed. This was a game - be it one to teach him, but still just a game. But he remembered so well, remembered what failure meant, how swiftly the punishment came. Acacius would at least tell him what he’d done wrong, but that hadn’t always been the case. He remembered moving pieces on a board and then that blinding, swift, stabbing pain on his face, inside his head, the watery eyes and the second strike that would come for crying, even though he wasn’t crying. He only cried later, hiding behind his brother’s bed, Caracalla’s clumsy arms looking for purchase around his shoulders, his cold fingers trailing the bruises on Geta’s face, his broken lips.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” the General asked.

Slowly, stiffly, Geta shook his head. “No. I don’t understand.”

“Look.”

Acacius took the piece from his fingers, which were as cold as he remembered Caracalla’s being. He wasn’t making a mention of it, or the shaking, and Geta could only guess as to why. Did the chance to humiliate him not appeal to the man? For so long, Geta had done his best to make him angry. He deserved something in return. His father would have never passed such an opportunity. Instead, Geta now watched as his piece was placed where he’d just removed it - and then another piece moved, a black one to match the ivory piece he’d wielded. The General predicted flawlessly where he’d been heading with his strategy, and in no time, his example had shown why it was a mistake: a long, elaborate mistake, but one which his opponent had nevertheless picked up on far before Geta had realised his own exposed vulnerability.

He’d never been good at board games. Now, this was so much more than that. These were cohorts in the field - and time after time, Acacius was decimating his ranks. No matter what Geta did, it always ended the same way.

“I don’t know how you see that far,” he said hesitantly, his voice breaking a little. “I can only see ahead two or three moves. I cannot predict yours. I don’t understand.”

“I have experience,” Acacius told him, his dark eyes turning to him from underneath his brows. “I have training, an education. I have been taught, ruthlessly at times, how to always think one step ahead of the enemy.”

“And it works out there? On a real campaign?”

A short nod, and Acacius leaned back in his seat. Their pieces on the marble board stayed as they were, in the inevitable climax and closure following the flaws which Geta had exposed into his lines with a single thoughtless move. No, not… not thoughtless. He’d thought. His thoughts just weren’t good enough. He didn’t have the mind for this. That had been what Severus had told him, over the tears which burned in his eyes almost as badly as the bruises and heat of injuries and bloodied lips on his face burned. He didn’t have the mind for it, for commanding armies; he’d never make for a good emperor. He couldn’t even win a game of latrones.

“Leading an army into a battle begins much before the pieces are set. You measure everything, from the environment and the direction of the wind to the angle of the sun and the conditions of the soil. You choose your positions so that the enemy will never have a gain on you, or if it is inevitable, you first have to find a way to turn it against him or minimise the impact by employing your available strengths for defenses. Then you see how he positions himself, and ensure that there is no evident flaw in his own design. Where are his archers? Do you have natural cover available? Is there cavalry? Will the environment separate the troops when the charge begins - can you force it?”

“But none of that exists on the board.”

“All of it exists in the mind.”

For a good long while, their eyes were locked. Geta wanted to retreat, but he couldn’t. That’d be a sign of weakness. But was it worse than the lining of tears in his eyes? The fear that had his lips tight? When Acacius moved again, Geta’s whole body jolted in his seat, and his breath hitched. The reaction had the older man still for just a while, and a flicker of his expression betrayed his awareness of the change between them, and Geta wanted to die; he wasn’t good for anything. He jumped at shadows, always had. Just one move over a board which displayed his loss - his body throbbed with the memories of his punishments, and Septimius Severus had been ashes for three years now.

“Come,” Acacius told him then, his voice softer and his fingers curling once for an invitation. “Come see the board from my angle.”

Geta’s legs shook when he pulled himself up from the chair, but this time he could at least hope that the General did not see how much he had to lean himself to the armrests to stay steady. His steps were careful when he crossed the table. Then, a hand pressed over his back - the middle of his spine, first, then with fingers crawling all the way around his waist to pull him closer. He shifted, his step clumsy until his body was flush with the General’s. Hesitantly, he followed when the grip turned for a tug. There was no space there - nowhere to sit - the way he was being tugged did not allow for him to bend over, nor would he have wanted to, it felt humiliating. The side of his thigh found some purchase from the very edge of the chair, but the armrest was digging into his back when he brushed up there, trying to make himself smaller.

Acacius huffed; he gave him a glance, a measure, and his fingertips pressed into Geta’s side a little harder.

“General, I don’t know what you want of me.”

“Sit.”

“There isn’t any space.”

The look he gained in return was empty in a way that felt tired with him. But he didn’t understand. He felt stupider by the moment: first the game, now this. Where was he supposed to sit? If he’d crouch, he’d be too low, and it’d be -

He swallowed when the hand tugged at him again. Then, closing his eyes, he let his body be pulled over so that his thigh slipped past Acacius’s, the soft spread of the man’s own taking over from the hard edge of the chair. Geta didn’t so much sit on it as he allowed himself to hover over it, and the heat of shame pushed onto his face. The fear in him was changing shape now. He shouldn’t have been here alone. He shouldn’t let someone whom he didn’t trust have this much power over him. Acacius was an older man; stronger, too, by far. And what was he? A boy who couldn’t stop crying when his pieces were cast aside from a game board.

“Do you see?” Acacius asked him, as if his body wasn’t tense like frozen.

“What am I supposed to see, General?” Geta’s voice was small and strained, barely more than a hoarse breath.

The arm around him adjusted, hand turning to the bend of the arm as the fingers came loose and rested in the air. This hold was less possessive, less… less threatening. It was casual, relaxed, half on the chair and half on him, just keeping him steady as he was. Geta’s body loosened with the grip, and he could breathe again - his eyes regaining focus, the empty noise in his mind quieting. He blinked and wiped his eyes to the back of his arm as subtly as he could. At least from here, Acacius couldn’t see how pathetic he was, how afraid all of this made him.

He turned to stare at the board and tried to remember what they’d been speaking of.

“This is your stage,” Acacius began again. He was picking up the pieces, placing them in their starting lanes.

“Your archers.” His fingers drew an invisible circle upon the black pieces in front of them, separating two cohorts.

“Your cavalry.” Another circle.

“Your footmen.” A third one.

“You are here,” he explained then, brushing his fingertip over a piece. “A good general will always fight with his men. You are the point of the blade which thrusts through the enemy line. They will die to protect you, but you cannot waste their lives just because you know that they won’t question the order. The less men you have around you, the more vulnerable you are to the enemy. Even a victory can be fatal to a general whose focus shifted too far into conquest and away from the people around him. Your fight is always here, where you area, and with the men who are around you.”

Geta nodded. Warmth was returning to his body.

“At the same time,” Acacius continued, his hand gesturing toward the white pieces across the board, “You, more than any other piece on the board, must always know how to look ahead. You must keep in mind the enemy’s position, and lead your men always through the most optimal path available to you. Your body must fight where you stand but your mind must fight for the whole army. And you must trust, with your heart and soul, that every other commander is reading the land and the battle as you are. You must believe that you are on the same page, because you can only command those who are around you. There is no guarantee your orders will be heard all through the battle - this is why choosing commanders is important; they must not only have the skills to read a battle as it unfolds, but they must know your mind as well as their own, so that even when they cannot find you, they can make the choices that mirror your own.”

Now, his hand returned to Geta; it took a grip of his wrist first, then stretched fingers to become a cover for Geta’s hand, and together, they began to move pieces.

“When you move your troops through to the side to circle the enemy,” he continued, Geta’s hand in his in a way that felt warm and commanding but not forceful, and it did not hurt, “you must believe that here - on the other side of the field - your commander will know what you are doing, and pull his troops through so that your manouvre becomes the trap you wish for it. If it doesn’t? Your line scatters, and it’ll be easy to break through. The enemy will become a blade and your army is but a hide to pierce. The goal is always to engage them so that they cannot penetrate a weakness in you first. An army which is surrounded cannot fight as a point and becomes much like a field ready for a reaping.”

Geta’s hand was left upon the board, holding a piece: he thought it was obvious where he should lay it next, but something nagged at him. The enemy positions, Acacius’s words. He hesitated. And there it was - to the side of his piece, there was an opening which was being left bare, and would allow the enemy to do exactly what the General had told him not to allow for it. It could turn to a point, and push his forces apart.

He lay down the piece he’d been left holding, and moved another instead. His breath released as a gasp of relief when Acacius gave a laugh: it had no jeer in it, no mockery, no disappointment.

“Good eye,” the General said.

It could have been good. Geta could have enjoyed this, if not for the continued release of his body - the way he was falling into shaking, far too deep into relaxation, into tremors which were cold and warm at once, and if his breath hadn’t… whatever it did - he couldn’t get in enough air. His reaction took his whole focus: his hand retreated, arms pressed against his body to cover him, hands escaped to his face to hide him. Every word his father had ever said to him - all of it at once, as echoes in his ears, and he couldn’t bear it - couldn’t bear the sound of the General’s laugh, the warmth of it, or the sensation of burning soreness and rawness which had suddenly taken over his body. It took him a while to realise something more mortifying: that as he was breaking, the man whose thigh he’d been set to sit on brought his own arms around him, and that his hold was firm but not punishing or restricting. For every one of his tremors, his hitching breaths, the General simply held him tighter for a while, and then let him feel himself loose and able to go when his breaths ran free again but he couldn’t move - if he’d tried, he would have fallen on his knees. There was no strength to him and the tears wouldn’t stop, so he couldn’t take his hands off of his face, either.

Pathetic, pitiful, despicable sight.

His spine curved and he tried to hide, as if becoming smaller could have made him invisible. He wanted the beating. He craved for it. This was too much - a display like this had only one answer to it, one lesson which needed repeating. Where was it? Where was the pain? He wanted it; so badly that when it was not forthcoming, his hands turned to nails on his face and then to a fist and he brought his knuckles deep into his own arm, one colliding into bone, the others thrusting into muscle, releasing an ache that spread into the full length of the limb and left his grip weak.

A hand took a hold of that place, then, where his fist had made for an injury, and wrapped around it. It pulled the whole arm down and because of the pain, Geta couldn’t stop it from happening - his muscles didn’t contract, couldn’t - and he turned his face away, tried to breathe. His other wrist was captured, too, and his hands pressed against his chest, arms over arms, the warmth of a body both pressed against his back and holding him still by the front. The moment was passing: the echoes in his ears turning lesser, his shaking dying down again, but he still had trouble swallowing and breathing. There was nothing in the world that he craved more than to let his body be at rest there, soak up the warmth which was there, be in silence, and forget all that was so disgusting about him, so weak, never good enough for anything. If no one had ever said a thing again, he might have been able to believe that this was gentleness, or care, something which could have belonged to him as a child if he’d only been better - more deserving - but he’d always been stupid and worthless.

When would the punishment come?

Was it ever coming?

And if not, what more would he have to do to himself to repeat the lesson? One strike was not enough to drive in the message.

With a sigh, Acacius’s grip of his wrists grew firmer for a while before he let him go again, and as he did so, Geta had already slipped off and stood up and walked half across the room before he so much as knew that he was moving, or that he was able to stay upright at all.

“Thank you for this lesson,” he said tightly, his own voice foreign to his ears. “You’re dismissed.”

The General stood: slowly, in little hurry to move or be gone from the room. His hand brushed through the marble board and examined the pieces upon it one last time. Then, as Geta’s gaze was picking him up from the very corner of his eyes, he turned to look at him instead.

“I wonder what you could have been,” Acacius said quietly, “had your father not been such a cruel man.”

The way in which Geta’s breathing hitched again was audible, and once more, his nails turned to his skin, wanting to hurt, break, claw red marks into it, make it bleed. Weak. Despicable. Disgusting. Worthless. Like beats of his own heart inside his ears.

“You know where to find me should you wish to continue learning, Emperor Geta. Until then - try to think of the full picture, even when those closest to you remain your first priority.”

The General’s absence left the room ringing, but instead of fright, Geta’s chest was now loosening into warmth. It took him a long time to lift his gaze from the floors: the afternoon’s sun was already tinted a warmer, deeper colour than when the door had last opened and closed, but every moment which he’d spent motionless had been one which he had needed to regain control of himself again.

The birdsong, the breeze across the Palatine; the sounds of music from somewhere inside the palaces, and the laugh of children outside. He was safe here, Geta thought, and the ghost of an embrace still played upon his skin when he finally determined himself able to move. There’d been no price attached to this kindness, and Geta’s weakness, in all its reprehensible display, had not been punished. For the first time that he could remember he was entirely unharmed by it - they both were, this time, him and his brother.

If not for the bruises of his own fist, at least. He let his palm trail over the throbbing marks, the only real ghost of his father that still stood in the room with him, and his mouth turned to a snarl.

He’d lose again, he thought. And next time, he’d shut his mind to his father’s will, and would not do his dirty work for him. For tonight as always, he’d seek the only comfort which he knew for it - he’d find his brother, they’d dine and then sleep. It felt a miracle that Caracalla’s touch would only be the second comfort which he’d be granted that day, voluntarily and without reserve.

making something in a style i dont usually do for a fic im working on (*^3(*^o^*) the writing process is going well ((7500 words so far holy crap)) so who knows i might even be able to post this one LMAO ^^; we'll see! (｡-ω-) first post on tumblr btw!!

"where's gojo where's gojo????" he's busy ok

Too Easily - Katsuki Bakugo -

Based off this Blurb

It was too easy, every part of it. How you met him, how you interacted with him, how quickly he got used to you. Every part of it was too easy, too good to be true. But he asked you anyway, he wanted you anyway. You figured it was just another thing in life that came easily. He showed you another way of living, the thrill of romance. The increased heartbeat that came when next to a crush. The a flutter in your stomach when he called your name. The buzz of warmth that covered your entire being after just one kiss. CW: swearing and i think that's it? Word Count: 7.4k

General Studies was no easy task. It was assignment after assignment. Making you do ten times the amount of work any other school had regular students doing. UA wasn't only a prestigious hero school, but an overall school. If you could get in, in any way possible, you were deemed important in society.

A messed up social construct because it didn't take only intelligence but also wealth and connections with people on the school board. Nonetheless, you got in and stayed at a good standpoint for your class. Within the top three overall, if you weren't first when hero students weren't involved.

You were known across the school for how you aced every test with flying colors. Maybe you weren't the most known, since the hero students got all the praise, but right out of that, you were the most known.

It used to be Shinso, due to his 'villainous' quirk. But when he was transferred to the hero course in the second year, all the talk switched to you. It was something you were used to though. Your parents were well-known CEOs so it was nothing compared to the fame they had. Just whispers being spoken wherever you were.

You were close friends with Shinso, and still are, stopping to talk with him in the halls and going to his common room to help him study every once in a while. It gave you more connections to the hero world, and with your parents' advice in life, you made any connection possible. Life was filled with stepping stones, all hard work built into any action, and profit.

When you were with Shinso, a genuine friend of yours, you took time to talk with his friends. Ones who crossed your path when in his busy common room. Normally it was Kaminari who bugged the two of you, and he wasn't much to build off. Sero as well, who mainly flirted with you quietly. Kirishima was a good one to talk with, there was actual conversation there. Same with Deku.

Avoiding conversation wasn't easy in the common area, but you and Shinso also knew only rumors would come if you went to his room. So the two of you adapted, making the people who bugged you, join in and study as well.

That's how you met the infamous Katsuki Bakugo. He was only trying to get his headphones back from Kirishima, but an interruption was an interruption. The group yelling at him to sit down, the group being Kaminari and Mina. You could care less if he stayed or went, the rule was set for the people who consistently bugged you.

"I said two fucking words," Bakugo seethed.

"Don't care," Kaminari pointed to the set, acting like a strict parent with how he raised his chin, "Rules are rules Kacchan."

"This stupid-"

"Bakugo sit the fuck down," Mina added.

"Who do you think you are?" Bakugo raised his arm at her.

You watched annoyed at the bickering, he would definitely apply to the rule now. You looked over your work as they snapped back and forth, wanting to avoid an argument with him. Throughout all three years of high school, his reputation stayed the same. As angry and explosive as ever, and that's after calming down slightly in the first year.

"Bakugo," Kirishima sheepishly spoke out, "You're only making things worse. She's had this rule set for the past month. You're going to go study anyway, just join us."

"Fucking ridiculous," the blonde grumbled, throwing his bag on the table and aggressively pulling out a seat next to you. "I'm not staying long," he bit out, towards you.

You raised a brow and looked at him, "You're disruptive anyway."

He tsked at you, opening his book and throwing down the same worksheet everyone else had out. The sheet that Shinso finished an hour ago, with your help. Shinso was now far ahead on his English essay.

The group took over their silence once again. Kaminari and Mina, the most annoying ones, deep into their math work.

"Kaminari!" you scolded, seeing him lift his phone for a math problem, "You're going to become a hero by cheating?"

"No," he pouted like a puppy.

Before you could, Bakugo took Kaminari's phone, shoving it in his pocket. "How many times do you have'ta be yelled at to fuckin' stop?" Bakugo hissed.

"Sorry," Kaminari shrunk in his seat.

"I'll help you," you sighed, getting up to stand.

Bakugo glared at you, "I can fuckin' do it."

"I've already finished the sheet, I know how to do it," you assured, acknowledging the looks from the table.

"Who the fuck even are you?" he looked you over.

You were used to the everyday person glaring at you, out of jealousy, out of disgust, it didn't matter. But from someone who was expected to be one of the top heroes, from someone in the Big Three? It was something else. You only let yourself shrink in slightly, still saying your name confidently. Surely he would have heard you're name by now, right?

"Hah?"

"I'm going to be the valedictorian? You can't be that socially blind," you blinked at him.

His face settled into recognition, turning to glare at Shinso next, "Is that how you're getting better scores?! You little shit!"

The aggression was off you quicker than you thought. Everyone else turned their attention off you now, not caring what Bakugo would say now that he was talking to a classmate. More so yelling with how Shinso was giving him a lazy smirk back at him.

Before you could get roped back into the conversation you stepped over to Kaminari to help him with the first question on the page. It didn't surprise you that he needed help, he often needed help in math.

What did surprise you though, was Bakugo grumbling to himself when you sat back down in your seat. Not letting you settle in before he poked your forearm with his pencil, nodding his head to his paper when you looked at him.

You leaned into his space slightly and looked over his paper. He moved his pencil over the question, the same one that stumped Shinso. He was looking anywhere but his paper ignoring the fact that he was asking for help.

When you took a breath before starting to talk you instantly got a sharp glare and his hand shoving paper into your hand. Scratch paper was shoved into your space, his pencil being tossed along with it. You gave him a look that read 'seriously' to his reaction. He just gave you a firmer glare. You sighed as you wrote down the steps for him, looking over his work and circling the spots he got wrong. He only messed up on the middle step, something you almost did.

Passing the paper was also a task, he waited until he was sure no one was looking before he snagged it back. His eyes lit up with a flash of annoyance as he saw his simple mistake.

"Hey," Shinso called out to you, dragging your attention away from the blonde, "I think I'm done for the day. I don't wanna write anymore."

You looked at the time, it was barely passing 8 pm, and you'd been working since six. "Fair," you nodded, knowing not everyone was up to studying for hours at a time, "How much did you do?"

"I'm only missing a page now," he stretched out, "It's not due for a week."

"The sooner you're done-"

"The sooner you can forget about it," Shinso rolled his eyes, "I know, not like you say it every time."

"I could say it more," you huffed, grabbing your textbooks and putting them in your bag. Shinso did the same, putting his stuff away much quicker before he said his goodnights, patted your back, and left.

"Am I free?" Mina gave you puppy eyes.

"Yeah, I need to get to my dorm," you smiled at her, watching as everyone at the table sighed in relief and packed up. Taking their leave soon after.

You stayed without much thought. Bakugo was still at the table, clearly wanting to finish his paper now. You didn't want to leave him in case he needed help, it was something you did for all of them.

Only when everyone was gone did he raise his head, quickly taking in that it was only you and him left.

"Thanks, Books," he said gruffly. You knew he was one to give nicknames, having heard him yell a few in the common room, hallways, or sports festivals.

You also knew he wasn't one to hand out thanks. "No problem," you nodded at him, seeing him shove his books into his bag. "You're going to rip your work if you do that, you know?"

"Like I care."

"You should, I wouldn't be surprised to know if you've had to redo homework for that reason only," you stood up, "A folder could save you from taking time out of your training."

He glared at you, showing that you read him like a book, "Whatever," he scoffed.

---

There was no surprise seeing him in the common rooms more, or him helping your small study group. It was all welcomed, he could answer all the small questions when you were already busy. Although he took a different approach than you. Rather than calmly explaining, he yelled.

The surprise only hit when he approached you right after class. Everyone lingering in the hall still debriefing from class that ended only moments ago.

He's been the talk of school recently as well. Having gone nuts when an interviewer asked him personal questions. Ranging from how his parents were to how many people he's slept with. With him being freshly eighteen, it was disgusting. It is disgusting in general but it only gives you a good look at the way society views heroes.

It spread beyond just that, everyone watching the interview and taking it among themselves. Trying to figure out who Bakugo was dating or why he wasn't dating anyone. Piecing together any action he made towards anyone. Trying to say he was dating one of his classmates or someone he was interning with. It was annoying even for you, no one wanted to talk about anything other than his dating life. It was infuriating.

So him showing up at your class out of nowhere confused you even more. With all the rumors going around you expected him to stick to himself, like he was doing for the past week.

"Bakugo?" you asked, seeing him leaning on the wall across the door to your class. You knew you were the only one that knew him personally, in your class.

"Books," he said shortly, kicking himself off the wall and walking towards you, meeting you halfway, in the middle of the hallway.

"Do you need to talk about something?" you tilted your head, confused, "We can go to your common room, I was heading there anyway."

"Nah," he shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets. Casual as ever.

You looked around at the crowd that gathered around you. "Then what do you need?" you asked quietly, wanting to avoid people hearing your conversation.

"Go on a date with me," he ordered more than asked, face plain but voice loud enough for everyone to hear. He gave you nothing to read off.

"Excuse me?" you asked meekly.

"Go on a date with me."

"Bakugo-"

"You stupid or somethin'?" he asked, now annoyed.

"No, I'm just confused," you worded slowly, trying to piece together why he did this suddenly. Is this why he started studying with you? Despite already knowing his stuff and hardly needing help.

"Will you?" he shuffled his footing, going more ridged and less relaxed.

You blinked, looking around quickly at the audience who was now holding their breath, "Yeah," you said breathlessly, "I- sure."

"Good," he relaxed again, "I'll meet you at your dorm room."

He didn't let you add anything before he was walking away, the crowd parting for his exit before rushing up to you.

"You know Bakugo?"

"He likes you?"

"Did you put a spell on him?"

"Hire him?"

"Buy him out?"

"What's your secret?"

Knowing how to manage the media, you did what you were taught. School your expression and walk away, give nothing but keep your head high.

You dealt with people bugging you until you were at your dorm, only at safety when you locked your door behind you. You didn't even tell Bakugo your dorm number, and he didn't have your number. How he was going to get to you, you had no clue.

Your phone buzzes violently in your bug, Shinso calling you.

"You and Bakugo?" he asked immediately when you answered. Word got around quick. It's only been twenty minutes and people knew.

"Apparently? I don't know?" you ran your hands through your hair, trying to think of an outfit for something you didn't even know of.

"How do you not know?"

"Shinso," you placed him on speaker, going through your closest, "He just came to my class and asked me out in front of everyone."

"I know, that's how I found out. But seriously?"

"Yeah," you settled on a semi-formal outfit, hitting the line of whatever was appropriate.

Shinso paused in thought, "He didn't act any different around you though."

"I know," you sighed in frustration, "All he did was ask my help, apparently that means he's into me?"

"He asked for help?"

"Barely," you shuffled out of your clothes, throwing on the outfit in a rush, unsure when Bakugo would pick you up.

Shinso hummed, "He never asks for help, so fuck, maybe he does like you. Be careful though."

You laughed lightly, brushing your hair with your fingers to make sure it was still presentable, "It's Bakugo, not some kind of monster."

"He's unpredictable," Shinso warned.

"I'll be fine Shinso," you brushed off his worries. Changing into a different topic of your day. Mainly listening to him rant about a new game he bought.

A sudden knock made you jump out of your chair, whispering goodbye to Shinso before hanging up.

You opened the door with a polite smile, greeting Bakugo, who was dressed in a similar manner as you.

"Ready?" he asked. You grabbed your keys and locked your dorm room behind you, stepping into the hall that not only Bakugo occupied. The rest of your class was camping outside your room. You glare at them in response, it was rude to be this nosey.

"Yeah, where to?" you asked, looking unsure around your class.

The name of one of the most popular restaurants rattled out of his mouth.

"Bakugo, that place is a fortune-"

"I've got the money."

"It really isn't necessary."

"It is if it's for you," he said smoothly, something completely unexpected from him. Maybe he wasn't as harsh as he put on.

With no more argument coming from you, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the elevator, finally out of the eyes of your peers.

"I don't think I'm dressed for this," you said honestly as you looked down. You'd meet the dress code easily, but it was still a well-established restaurant.

"You look fine."

You blushed warmly at that. You've been told all about his character in passing. He didn't just throw out things without meaning. "Thanks," you mumbled, following him as he left the elevator.

---

He was an easy person to talk to. No awkward silences that couldn't be filled. Nothing bad to note over the entirety of dinner. He was a gentleman, and it was surprising. Even when the press started annoying you midway through, he didn't fuss. Just told you to ignore them and continue eating. Barely giving them a second glance as he talked to you more. Seemingly curious about how your dumb presentation did.

"Thank you for listening to all my school stuff," you turned to him as you walked back to your dorm, him insisting he needed to walk you back. Despite the guaranteed safety of a hero school. "You're probably the only hero student who can keep up."

"You act like hero students are behind."

"You're in the same math class as Kaminari, it's not hard to claim that I'm leagues ahead in that field," you smiled at him, not wanting to offend him.

"Whatever," he shrugged off.

You turned back to look at the direction you were walking, you still had a couple of minutes, "Thanks for inviting me out, I'm cooped up too much."

"No problem," he said back softly, sharing your tone, "Thanks for agreeing I guess."

"I hardly agreed to anything, more so got ordered," you laughed.

The weather was nice as you walked back. Clear skies, low winds, but cold.

"Ya cold?"

"Kinda," you replied, crossing your arms to warm yourself as you focused on walking.

"C'mere, idiot," he called to you, shrugging off his jacket when you were near, throwing it over your shoulders before continuing to walk like nothing happened.

"Thank you," you said shyly, not used to being catered to, especially by him. Many have asked you out before, none of them interesting or it was easy to tell they had bad intentions, Bakugo's the first to not.

He shrugged off the appreciation, letting silence cover the conversation for a moment.

"You want to know something?" you spoke out, watching how your steps hit the ground at the same time as his.

"Hm?"

"I expected you to be a lot different."

"How?"

"Well in the sports festival you're an animal," you pointed out.

"I'm not an animal," he shook his head in disbelief.

You turned to face him, face deadpan, "You fucking growled at the camera."

Bakugo barked out a laugh at the memory. Though the laugh was violent, it was warming to hear, your smile widening.

"You even bit the cameraman," you added on to the memory, anything to keep him laughing.

"You saw what he did right?" he spoke filled with laughter.

"No?"

"Dude wagged a red flag in front of the camera so I'd look over."

"No!" you gasped, laughter breaking through.

"So I fuckin' showed him an animal."

His expression was cocky with a humorous smile, a laugh still following his words as he guided you to continue moving by your elbow.

"All the interviewers do that shit."

"Hm?" you hummed for him to continue.

"Get in your face, want you to act a certain way. Fuckin' tired of it," he huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," you were warmed by how he spoke so freely, "They always ask ridiculous questions too," you added on.

"You've been interviewed?" he side-eyed you as you walked.

"Plenty of times, my parents are huge CEOs so they want to know who's next up," you answered any follow-up question he could have, used to others questioning you all about it.

"Gross."

You laughed lightly, "Definitely, the interviews are always so unsettling. Asking every personal question ever," you brought it up just to try to show him you understood him.

"You got no idea, sweets," the tack of a nickname made you flush. Looking away briefly when other students pass by you.

Not wanting the conversation to stop you continued, "I might not to your extent of course, but I've had my fair share."

"Really? What's the worst thing you've been asked?" he challenged.

"If I was willing to have sex with other CEOs in order to expand the company," you gave him a straight face.

He gave a disgusted look in return, "People like that need to be locked up."

"Yeah, hopefully you'll clear the streets for us," you bumped his shoulder with yours, "but what's the worst thing you've been asked?"

"If I fucked Endeavour's sidekick." You cringed in reply. "That, and they always ask my cup size."

A laugh ripped from your throat, your hand slapping up to his arm in response, "No way! Me too!"

He rolled his eyes, "Fuckin' pervs."

Conversation was easy between the two of you, sharing interview questions until you got to your dorm. Him opening all the doors for you on the way there, causing you to blush each time.

Few people scatter your hallway when you get back, turning their attention on you.

"Again next week?"

"Sorry?" you asked confused.

He furrowed his brows, "Did you not have a good time?"

"No, I did," you corrected, "I'm just surprised you're wanting another."

"Of course, I want another," frustration was slowly coming out of his voice, "So will you go on another date with me? Next week?"

"I- yeah," you nodded.

"Gimme your phone," he put his hand out, typing his number in roughly when you gave it to him. "I'll text you."

"Yeah," you were breathless, this didn't feel real.

"You're going to be at my common area tomorrow, right?" his face gave away absolutely nothing, brushing off the idea of a date so casually.

"Yeah," you were too stunned to form more words. He wanted not one, but two dates. And was curious what you were doing the next day. You were never one to fan girl, but with the looks he had, it was hard not to.

"Good, I'll be around," he said shortly, moving to step away.

"You're jacket," you blurted, "I need to give it back."

"Keep it."

He walked away before you could even pull it off your shoulders.

Not wanting the stares of classmates, you quickly hid yourself in your room. Letting the giddy emotions consume you. The rush of emotions from the date were running wild, and you knew better than to show those in front of him, let alone in public.

---

The giddy feeling didn't leave the next day, buzzing in your heart as you went through each class. Unbothered by the people who tried to be nosey or the first years who threatened you. It was all filled with the rushing thoughts, the curiosity you felt when Bakugo said he'd see you today.

Adding a pep to your step as you made your way into his common room, setting up your stuff to study with Shinso.

"Nice ass, I got a real good angle here."

You slapped down your uniform skirt as you straightened your posture. "Gross Mineta," you spat when you turned around to face him.

"Just enjoying the view, wish it was more than a view, like an object-"

You glared at him sharply, "I'm not an object." He was acting worse than the interviewers.

"Not yet-"

"Not ever," you seethed. When you watched his eyes widen you felt relieved to have scared him.

"The fuck happening here?" Bakugo's voice rang out, clearly being the reason Mineta was afraid.

"Nothing," Mineta groaned, "Gotta ruin the fun. Maybe later mamas," Mineta winked at you. A full-body cringe shuttered through you.

"I'll fuckin' kill you," Bakugo stepped closer, Mineta running away in response.

"Thanks-"

"Aren't you usually here at 6?" he cut you off.

"Oh," you clasped your hands behind your back, slightly swaying, "I thought I'd stop by earlier, to see you," you added sheepishly.

"Good thinkin'," he smirked, "Want to-"

Shinso's heavy steps turned your attention. "Hi, Shinso!" you greeted happily, you had so much to tell him.

"It's a bit early," he turned his head to the clock.

"She came to see me," Bakugo answered for you.

"Well not entirely- I'm still going to study at 6," you confirmed.

That night all you did was go over the English book Bakugo's class was reading in the privacy of his dorm. Nothing more, nothing less. However, he did apologize for Mineta.

---

The next month or so followed in a similar footing. Amazing dates filled with heartful talks, even ones that were had to talk about. With him it was easy. Laughing and smiling was easy.

Even the stupid date you were on right now.

"Y'know you should call me by my name."

He had to be joking. You were in the middle of a nice dinner date in his common room, with food he made. "Really? Are seriously trying to get me to call you Dynamight-"

"No idiot-" he huffed looking down at his hands for a second. He was holding his weight on the counter as he stood across from you, leaning into his palms. "I mean Katsuki."

"Oh," you blushed, "Yeah, I guess that'd make sense," you laughed shyly.

His eyes flickered to the common room. Mina, Toru, and Kaminari were all sitting there, obviously spying on you and Bakugo.

"Your cooking is great," you blurted out, wanting his attention instead.

"Hm?" he looked back to you, "Do y'like the spice? I can add more if ya can handle it."

Even after letting you call him by his given name, the conversation stayed easy between you two. Taking steady bites of your meal between talking, trying to ignore the three in the common room.

Throughout the conversation, Bakugo took your empty plate and started washing it. Having you sat on the counter next to him.

"So gentlemen like," you teased as he dried the plate and put it way. He huffed, rolling his eyes when he stood in front of you again.

"Only for you," he spoke confidently, eyes flashing towards the common room before crowding into your space on the counter. Stepping between your spread legs and placing his hands beside your thighs.

You blush at his closeness, straightening your back to gain a few more inches of space, "Bakugo-"

"Katsuki," he corrected.

"Katsuki," you fumbled with his name, "What are you doing?" you whispered.

"What d'ya want me to do?"

Your eyes flashed to the group, embarrassed that you might have an audience. Too embarrassed that you couldn't reply, biting your lip when you looked back at him. Catching his eyes falling to your lips before looking back at your eyes.

He gave you a look and a small nod to see if you were okay, clear with the idea that he wanted to kiss you. When you gave a small nod in reply, he moved his hand up to cradle your cheek. 

Gently pulling you in for a kiss. Connecting your lips with a spark running up your spine. This was your first kiss, and it felt electric. A rush of adrenaline runs through your body at the contact.

When he pulled away you chased the kiss for a moment, letting your eyes slowly flutter open in confusion. His eyes were already on the three in the room over.

"Want to go to your dorm?" you offered, eager to continue kissing him, the thrill was something you think you'd chase for a lifetime.

"It's gettin' late," he glanced at his watch, "I got early training."

You pouted your lip, "Okay, text me?"

"Sure," he patted your thigh and stepped away. Making you blush once more before you hopped off the counter to leave.

---

The relationship between you two continued like that for a while, small kisses in public. All ones you were too shy to start yourself. Even when you wanted to be in the privacy of his dorm, but without his lead you felt blind.

Everyone on campus has seen you together and knows you're dating, but you felt unsure. It felt weird to have everyone think you're dating, but you didn't know entirely. Interviewers have asked him and he just shrugged it off with a smirk. It's never been discussed more, and you had nothing to go off. All that was discussed was a promised date every week and him being around when you tutored Shinso.

All except this time.

"Where's Katsuki?" you asked Shinso once you placed your stuff down.

"Bad interview, he's in his dorm," Shinso shrugged.

"That bad?" you frowned.

Shinso looked at you like you were stupid, "It's Bakugo, it's always bad."

"Hm," you hummed in thought, looking towards the elevator.

"Want to go see your boyfriend?" he rolled his eyes.

"He's not my boyfriend," you shushed.

"Yeah? Tell that to everyone else."

"It just hasn't been brought up between him and I," you confined to him slightly.

"Then ask? I don't know," he sassed.

"Come on Shinso, I'm lost here," you begged, "I've never dated anyone before. I don't know the rules."

"Rules?" Shinso laughed, "There's no 'rules' to dating."

"Help me out," you kicked at his chair.

"Just ask him what you are, he's probably too emotionally constipated to actually ask you out and want you to just know."

"That's embarrassing though."

"Toughen up."

With Shinso's horrible enthusiasm, you were knocking at Katsuki's door before you knew it.

"What?" Katsuki snapped when opening the door, clearly in a bad mood. 

Every emotion was running through your head. Scared? Excited? You name it. It's been three months of this unknown. Dating or not. You wanted to know, you wanted to make the small next steps. Have him as a boyfriend. To meet his mom. Spend more time with him. Call him more often. Kiss him more. All the practiced words wanted to fall right out of your mouth. 

You closed your open mouth, recovering from your thoughts and the aggressive way he opened the door. He was still glaring at you confused. "I- um-"

"Spit it out."

You took a deep breath, licking your lips lightly before letting the word vomit leave your mouth, "I want to know where we stand. Like are we dating? Are you my boyfriend?" you were wringing out your hands and rocking on your heels as you rambled, "Have we been dating? If not, I'd like to. You're such a good guy and just have helped me a lot, and I'd love to actually call you my boyfriend."

Katsuki blinked at you for a moment, his glare gone but the confusion was still painted across his face. 

"Huh?"

You blinked, "I like you Katsuki, and I want an actual relationship. Titles and all, you know?" With his face just scrunching up in more confusion, you gasped, hands covering your mouth, "God! You probably already think it's a relationship, huh? I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to-"

"You like me?" he cut you off.

"I thought that was obvious?" you laughed lightly, embarrassed as you peered up at him.

He shuffles how we was standing, crossing his arms, a confused look gracing his features, "We were just dating to get rid of the fuckin' rumor. I thought y'know?"

Color drained from your face, "Oh!"

Not being able to stand any more of this mortifying experience, you turned on your heels and walked away.

Walking all the way until you were almost out of the Common room.

"You look like you saw a ghost," Shinso stopped you in your tracks.

"Heh," you forced a laugh, eyeing the door with want.

"Go that bad?" Shinso frowned.

"You have no idea.

---

That night was rough. A long shower helped you process everything. All the group outings, all the public displays of affection, not bothering to spend time together unless you were out in public, even if you were in his dorm, everyone knew. It had all been for the press, and it made complete sense. It was all he talked to you deeply about. It's why he thanked you at the beginning of all this.

And yet, despite you being the valedictorian, you were too stupid to realize.

So now you were bawling your eyes out as you hugged your pillow. Feeling so incredibly dumb to think you could pull Kat- Bakugo. The future symbol of strength. You let yourself get so hopeful and wrapped up in the feelings, making yourself blind to the obvious. 

All the small kisses you shared felt like nothing now.

After that night, you picked yourself back up. No longer distracted by him, but more encouraged. You've spent the last three months studying until early in the morning rather than sleeping, all because you didn't want to decline when Bakugo invited you out. So now, you had time. So much of it that you were unsure what to do with it.

Bakugo gave you a week to cool down, not bothering you during your study sessions with Shinso, and not texting you either. You were relieved he was letting this embarrassing moment pass.

You were mad, anyone would be. Bakugo could have told you that it was fake, but no, he let you fall for him. He could of been direct, rather than assume.

"You okay?" Shinso nudged your arm when you were too zoned out on the elevator, fearful that the blonde would appear any moment.

"Hm? Yeah, just preoccupied with my thoughts," you answered automatically, turning your head away from the elevator. It's been a full two weeks, you should be over it by now.

Shinso looked over your shoulder, "Maybe we should leave," he rushed, packing his stuff.

"What? Did you finish already?"

"No, just come on," Shinso grabbed your stuff and packed up too.

"Shinso-"

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the elevator, trying to close the doors quickly. 

Only then did you notice Bakugo standing at the entrance, looking lost as he watched the elevator doors close.

---

Shinso was always a good friend like that, looking out for you. He's kept Bakugo from your view more times than you could count in the past two weeks. Shinso was probably more pissed than you.

You had just hung up on him, turning to sitting down at your desk and plotting down points for an essay you had to submit later this week. Always wanting to stay two steps ahead when possible.

A soft rattle of knocks drew your attention away from your work.

"Come in," you called out, turning off your studying music and taking off your headphones. Spinning your chair to see which classmate was bugging you for help now.

"Hey," Bakugo twisted the door open.

You rolled your eyes, "Close the door, unless you want people to hear."

He slowly shut the door behind him and put his hands in his pockets, "Mindfuck said I should-"

"If Shinso sent you to do anything, I don't want to hear it," you crossed your arms.

"That shithead doesn't dictate what I do-"

"But he could," you pointed out.

"Well he's not. Ain't how his quirk works."

"What do you want Bakugo?" you asked plainly, you didn't want to be dragged along again.

He sighed, "Look, I wanted to apologize. What I did was shitty."

"Very, but I don't care at this point," you covered up your emotions, brushing past every night you've cried these past two weeks, "Yeah, you broke my heart or whatever, but it wasn't intentional. Just- you go your way, I'll go mine."

He tightened his jaw, "If that's what you want."

"It is," you lied through your teeth. Moving your chair again to face your work. Ignoring him.

"You don't have to lie if anyone asks," he spoke awkwardly.

You gave him a quick glance, "I wasn't planning to." 

---

When he left once again, you felt relieved to have that conversation over. Wanting to bury the sad story of your first 'relationship.' 

Sticking to what you knew best, school. You breezed through each test. Earning any extra credit possible and going to any internship possible. Limiting your tutor hours to hours you knew Bakugo was busy.

Your resume was solid, you'd be graduating with an associate's degree and would immediately start work with your parents the second you graduated. All while working towards a master's degree. Not only did you fill up your current time, but you'd be busy after high school as well.

Even now you were often at your parents' office when school was over, getting prepared for your role there. You'd be the youngest boss to work there, and many people were pissed. How could a freshly graduated teenager get paid more than them?

With tons of hard work. All the hard work pays off when you actually graduate as Valedictorian. Having press all in your face when you gave your graduation speech to the class. Talking about the highs and lows. Mentioning the hero course and the courage they faced, even when people thought they weren't made for it. Most of the speech was for Shinso.

The press was crazy afterward, you didn't have a moment to yourself. While you thought the press would be small since UA was high security, you were wrong. They took the funding they could get, and in return, they let people in.

Mainly the hero course was being interviewed, but you got surrounded as well.

"Ma'am! Tell us how you got such a high job position?"

"How much money will you make?"

"I'd love to get your insider opinion on the heroes here?"

"Hard work earns a lot more than just money," you answered the first two questions, "While the Heroes here are outstanding. They'll do the world a lot of good."

"Do you know any of them personally?"

"A few in Class A," you smiled in reply. You needed press and this was a great way to get your name out.

"So are you still dating Dynamight?"

The question shocked you for a moment, you thought all that dropped when you and him argued. You guess they just thought you were distant because of work. Your eyes widened, immediately looking away from the interviewer so you could compose an answer.

Unforantly, Bakugo was getting interviewed right beside you. Making eye contact with you while the press hounded him. Flying through different questions about his relationship status.

"Ma'am?"

"Um," you stuttered, unsure what to do.

 Every press training you've gone through left your mind. Bakugo's helpless face replaced it instead. He hated the press, he hated dealing with an audience. But he hated it even more when it wasn't about his work. Hating when people asked personal things or assumed things because of his looks. 

"Excuse me, I need to go save my boyfriend."

You walked away quickly, faking your confidence in your walk as you made your way to him. Regretting your decision already but it's too late to go back now.

"Is this your girlfriend?" the press immediately switched to ask when you showed up to his side.

"No-"

"Yes," you grabbed his arm, giving him a glare, "Now, we have to go spend time with out families. Please excuse us." You smiled at the interviews, tugging Katsuki away from the mess of it all. "How do you fall for such a trap?" you yelled at him in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was near.

"Huh?"

You spun to face him when you finally found some space. "When they start going down that path you switch the topic, not blank, and get angry."

"Well I'm sorry I'm not miss fuckin' perfect," you hissed at you, crossing his arms.

"You had media training!" you threw your hands up helplessly.

"Whatever, are you just going to yell at me?"

You bit your tongue before you yelled again, looking around instead. "Now we have to deal with the press thinking we're dating."

"I'll just tell them no-"

"That's stupid, I just blatantly told them we were," you huffed, "We'll just sit and wait for it to go away."

"That'll take forever-"

His mom stepped into your view.

"Why are you hiding?"

"I'm not," Bakugo crossed his arms, "Mind y'business."

"Are you his girlfriend I've been hearing about?" her sharp eyes landed on you.

"No-"

"Yeah," Bakugo glared at you this time instead.

"Oh!" She smiled brightly, ignoring how you said no, "You should join us for dinner!"

"Oh, no I shouldn't intrude," you shook your head, not knowing what you would do if you said yes.

"It's not intruding! Please, my boy hardly has anyone. I'd love to get to know the girl that stole his heart," she smiled warmly.

"Ma' she has family-"

"They're actually busy tonight, so I'd be free," you shrugged, liking seeing Bakugo get antsy. 

"Great!"

---

"I'd love to know how you guys got together," Mitsuki asked as you handed you a dish to plat your food.

You and Bakugo shared a look.

"I asked her out," he shrugged.

"More than that," she hissed in his direction.

"Well," you looked between the two, not wanting to witness a family argument, "We met from me tutoring someone in his class. Started to get to know each other in passing and he asked me on a date. Not too exciting," you replied instead as you dished up.

Mitsuki shook her head, "Boring as ever, I thought his father would raise him to be more romantic."

"Where is dad anyway?" Bakugo spoke just after swallowing an inhuman-sized bite of food.

"Work needed him, he after you saw him earlier," she spoke to Bakugo before turning to you, "He'd love to meet you."

"Thank you for inviting me," you flushed.

"So, back to terms of your relationship," she started, gaining a groan from Bakugo, "I know he isn't too roped up in relationships often, the last girl he was with was in middle school! Are you the same? I know I wasn't at your age," she laughed kindly.

"Actual this is my first relationship," you poked at your food.

"The hell-"

"Watch your mouth!"

Bakugo turned to you fully, "You didn't tell me that."

You shrugged, "Never came up."

"Was I your first-"

"Kiss?" you finished for him, "Yeah."

Bakugo just stared a you for a moment, huffing before rubbing his hands over his face. Slamming his hands on the table and making his exit. Leaving you with his mom.

"He didn't know?"

You forced your eyes away from where he left, "No, we never really discussed it."

"Maybe it's time to?" She offered. A mom classic.

"I don't know," you looked down at your plate.

"He's a handful, I know, but just give him a shot."

With the way she was acting and the read on her personality, you got so far, you knew she'd slap him upside the head if she knew everything.

But maybe it wouldn't hurt to get everything out.

"I guess."

"He's room is upstairs to the right, first door."

You gave her a smile before excusing yourself.

Knocking at his door before you knew it. Just like the night.

"Fuck off."

"Bakugo," you opened the door regardless, he was holding his head in his hands, elbows on his knees as he sat on the side of his bed.

He looked up at you, "What?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you," you said honestly. You didn't fell bad about it before, mainly wrapped up in how he never told you anything.

"No- fuck, don't apologize," he stood up, "don't need to do that for me. I'm fucking sorry. I didn't know, you didn't deserve that."

You hummed for him to continue.

"I'd never of asked if I knew."

"Why did you ask me?" the question has been nagging at you since.

"Hah?"

"To fake date you, get the rumors to go away."

"You seemed least likely to snitch or freak out over it," with the way his shoulders fell, you could tell that he was saying the truth, "Your clean image also helped."

It made sense. The 'bad boy' dating the valedictorian to help graduate. So not only did you fall for the classic cliche of fake dating, but also dating the bad boy.

"You also caught my eye," he confessed, shifting his footing.

"Sure," you rolled your eyes. He likely didn't want you to call everything off. Flatter you so you stuck around for his image. You've seen it all before.

"I'm not fuckin' around."

"I don't want to hear it," you stopped him there, "I'm not falling for whatever trap you have planned."

"I didn't mean to trap you-"

"You could have told me that it was for the rumors, and I would have agreed. But no, you assumed I knew or something."

"Sorry."

"Are you?" you shot back, "Or is that to make sure I don't start 'rumors.'"

"Seriously books," he glared at you.

"What?" you glared at him, "You go from being upset that you were my first kiss, to saying I caught your eye anyway? If that was actually true you could have asked me out for real."

"Then go out with me-"

"Seriously Bakugo?" you looked at him annoyed, "How would I know now? I don't know you."

"Yes you do-"

"No I don't! I know you hate the press and that's it," you huff frustrated.

He thought for a moment, "You know I like spicy foods."

You laughed at how ridiculously this was, "Doesn't matter."

"I hate how I fuckin' sweat so much. I like working out, anything to get my adrenalin running-"

"Bakugo, whatever you're doing isn't going to work," you shook your head, "I can't let myself go into this again.

"Why not? I'm not in this for anything but you."

"There's still rumors," you sighed, "So I'll never be sure if it's for me or not."

"I wouldn't fucking do that."

"I don't know you Bakugo," you crossed your arms.

"This is fuckin stupid, I try and do what you said and you say no."

"I said I would agree then, not now. I can't just say yes to dating you when last time you rejected me."

"I didn't reject you."

"You just stood there! You didn't do anything but look at me confused! Never even brought it up after," you pointed out.

"You just sprung that on me, you can't spring shit on me and expect me to know how to react!"

You took a deep breath, "I didn't expect anything really, Just thought you'd say anything but what you did."

He glared at you, "You can't just force people to like you."

You looked to glare at the wall instead of him, "That's not what I meant and you know that. I wanted you to like me back sure, but I wasn't going to flip if you said no. The only reason I avoided you was because I was dating you the entire time you were fake dating me."

"So?"

"It's embarrassing," you confessed, "I don't want to do that again."

"Let me prove it to you."

"What?"

He stepped close to you, crossing through his surprisingly clean room, "I'll prove that this time isn't fake."

"How?" you laughed, "I don't think you can fix this."

"Lemme try."

"Fine," you challenge, out of curiosity. You couldn't get more hurt than you already were. Plus you'd be too busy for him to try anyway.

---

If you want a part 2 lmk! It'd likely have smut though! Just a btw! I never reread so I hope this lived up to the hype! I've been crazy busy!

@kcch-ns @saucypeanuttt @cyanide-pancakes @gold24fish @randomchaosyay @minkyungseokie @endlessfreaky @suki0 @lovra974 @okayiamkassandra @myrunawaysweets @pirana10 @ginevraxrogers @katbug37

Thank you guys for the love!! <3

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