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praeluxius · 10 days

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Blasé

part 4 of folie à deux. masterlist

male reader x kim minju (ex-iz*one) ft yujin, gaeul and rei of Ive

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

words: 9.15k - a lot of set-up in here for future parts, sorry

Blasé - indifferent

It’s a far cry from elegance—the way you’re both scooping up pieces of clothing from the ground.

"Trousers?" You’re scanning wall to wall, behind stools and tables until your eyes rest on the woman across the room. "Where did they go?"

Minju's got her hands at her waist, fitting her own trousers. “Over there.” She simply tilts her head in a direction of vague guidance.

Aside from the distant voice from the flickering television in the corner, showing scenes of the news, and the soft sounds of jazz music, there's an uneasy amount of silence for a bar in the mid-afternoon. Another knock at the door—Wonyoung must be getting impatient. No surprise.

You're pulling on your trousers as Minju slides her arms into her blazer, settling it onto her shoulders. As she brushes down her clothes, fixes her hair and steps over to her shoes, she has shifted back into the unassuming young woman you first set your eyes on. Not a trace of the indecency remains. Not even a slight indication that, despite the attempt she made to clean up with a few napkins, there's likely still your cum running from her cunt.

She has spent the past couple of minutes explaining how this will go—how you're going to sit back at the bar and Minju is going to re-open as if nothing happened. She didn't tell you exactly how she plans to deal with the Wonyoung problem, but, ‘just let me handle it’ is somehow enough for you.

You sit where it all started, joining your drink at the bar. The last remnants greet you in a sorry state of neglect. You do what you can to straighten up, a hand through your hair, a smoothing down of the wrinkles in your shirt, and a tug on the sleeves to straighten the cuffs. It is when you start to think you've got yourself somewhat under control that you realise just how bad you must look. There’s the undeniable sign that you can’t ignore—that rising tide of musk and sweat from your body and the discomfort it brings.

Another loud rattle of the door against the frame, vibrating across the hinges and into the metal fixings. A call of your name, but it's not quite how you think it should sound.

Minju flicks a series of locks on the door; three separate bolts—heavy-duty clunking metal. Finally, she drops the latch and unlocks the main lock. She has her hand on the handle of the door and she hesitates, looking over her shoulder to check on you once again. One last look.

Just smile.

She opens the door, standing in the opening, between you and the woman outside.

"Wonyo—" Minju begins. "Sorry, who are you?"

You twist in your seat and watch the scene unfold. You expect anger, an outpouring of venom from a woman so full of ego, arrogance, vanity, and maybe even jealousy.

Reality is far from the expectation.

The woman asks Minju if you're here, and while you're still racking your mind to work out who she is, Minju lets her in and, in a way, you're grateful for seeing her walk into the room and folding her umbrella.

"Gaeul?"

"Finally, I was a minute away from leaving. What were you—" She looks around the room, at the out-of-place stools, and then at you. She scrunches her nose and sniffs, confirming her suspicions through the scent of sex. "Oh."

She turns her eyes to Minju. Gaeul lingers, eyes fixed on the bartender's face.

"We... we were talking." Minju chuckles in amusement.

"With the door locked?" Gaeul is easy to read, even across the room, and you can see the genuine concern on her face. You hear it in her voice too. Suddenly, even being here feels wrong. Discomforting is the silence. Unnerving is the smile that stretches on Minju's face—a much prouder look than you're giving.

"Relax darling, we were just talking, and then…" Minju dismisses and Gaeul rolls her eyes.

"No, no. Please. Don't say another word," Gaeul waves her hands in front of her, a gesture of surrender. "I don't want to know the details."

"You sure you don't want to hear about how he just—?"

"No. Just no." Gaeul turns from the grinning woman and heads to you.

She struts in that same determined way she always does. Steady are her paces. Bag over her shoulder, short hair half-tied up and black jeans hugging her legs. As usual, she dons the casual grace that suits her so well.

“Bro, what the hell happened?”

“You seriously don’t know?” you answer the question with a question.

“You got called away. Wonyoung said she had somewhere to be and the rest of us were left waiting, but nothing ever happened. Then classes end and Wonyoung finally just tells me I could find you here.”

“I’m in a shit-storm, Gaeul.” You say, resigned to your seat.

Figuratively, of course. Though Gaeul looks like she’s been in one herself as she throws her rain-drenched raincoat over a stool. The one outside probably isn’t bad enough to require a name, but you know the one that you’re facing all too well. Storm Wonyoung.

You recount the abridged version for her. Of course, the details of you and Wonyoung and your benefits need little introduction. As for the rest, it’s difficult to explain the parts you still don’t understand, like how this all comes down and you and you alone. It takes two to fuck.

"You can't just hide in here from it all."

You laugh a little and say, "not hiding." An obvious lie, and Gaeul gives you a forced smile that says she's not convinced.

"You had us worried."

“Even Wonyoung?” you ask; it’s a test more than a question. You know the answer. You know that she doesn’t give a shit, but you want to see if Gaeul tries to sell the lie.

"Ha! That would be a first." Minju mocks with a scoff. She walks back to where you first found her, behind the bar, and she's still pulling and tugging at her shirt to get the fit back how she likes it.

"I’m sure she does," Gaeul says, with little confidence in her words. She sits herself down next to you and drops her bag off her shoulder and onto the bar.

"You’re still trying to convince yourself," Minju mutters with a shake of her head. "She really has you all around her little finger."

Gaeul is trying her best to ignore the interruptions. "Wony and Yujin—they can fix this."

"Yujin, huh? Now that's a new name." Minju interjects yet again, looking at you with eyes sharp enough to cut. She has her back to the shelf of alcohol, her arms folded under her chest. The more you think about it—the more the pieces seem to fall into place—the clearer it becomes that Yujin is the best friend who replaced Minju.

You scratch your ear. What a mess.

"Gaeul, there's no way the school let me back in."

"You don't know that."

Minju steps forward, a little closer. Her tongue dances across her lips as she readies herself to speak. "Oh, you think Wonyoung is going to get daddy's money and pay your way out of this mess? What's she going to tell her father? Hey daddy, please can you bribe the school to help this guy who's been fucking your princess silly? Seriously? She’s probably the one who got you kicked out in the first place."

That same laughter. That same mocking, belittling attitude that Minju had toward the idea of Wonyoung earlier. As if Minju sees nothing but weakness. Sure, Wonyoung has her fair share of faults, and sometimes she comes off too entitled, but right now, in this situation, her heart is actually in the right place. Or that's at least what Gaeul is saying.

“She would never do that! Wonyoung takes care of her friends and I’m sure she…” Gaeul gives up on her argument as Minju continues to laugh in the face of it.

Minju holds one elbow in the palm of the other hand and places her index finger on her cheek. She flicks it over to Gaeul and points. “Where are my manners? Drink?”

"Coffee, I guess."

"Come on, we're in a bar, let me pour you a—"

"No." Gaeul snaps. "All that stuff does is tear lives apart." An unexpected sternness in her tone—not one you’re accustomed to. There's a hardness that washes over her features—even her hair seems to have stood up a bit on end.

"Gaeul, it's just a drink—"

"That's how it starts and before you know it—" The door opens and a couple of men walk in, silencing her. They look to choose their seats and Gaeul seems to shrink into her stool.

"Alright. Coffee it is," Minju says before shifting her focus to you. "Anyway, Yujin—you fucking her too?"

"No." It's not a lie. Close call? Sure. Want to? Of course. Fucking her? No.

With Minju it just seems like if you give her any opportunity to fan the flames and she’s there. She’s the type to see you caught in a storm and perform a rain dance.

She laughs. She knows. It’s written on your face. "Of course not. Maybe she will let you one day." Minju laughs again and turns to pour out a coffee from the machine on the back of the bar.

Gaeul leans in close, making sure Minju can't hear you over the sounds of the coffee machine whirring to life. She whispers, "bro, what’s wrong with this girl? And how does she know Wonyoung?"

"High school or something. They go back. Way back."

Minju approaches you, drink in hand, and without a word, places the coffee in front of Gaeul. Her expression speaks a hundred mocking words, and she shows little remorse for how she only seems to have stirred the pot further. Her earlier words ring in your ears—how you should be more selfish and that there's more to life than Wonyoung and Yujin.

But here's the hitch.

The problem.

You can't shake the feeling that you really like those girls. No matter how complex their games get or how hard they play with your emotions. There's some innate charm about the two of them; a kind of charisma that not only attracts but holds. No matter how impossible their demands are, you keep on wanting more.

You're attracted to their sheer arrogance. Drawn by the magnetism of their utter assurance. Entranced at the depth and certainty of their convictions. And if Minju could read your thoughts right now, she would tell you just how stupid you sound.

As Minju walks away and towards her new patrons, sitting at the other end of the bar, you can only admire her.

Not just physically, but who she is. She doesn't care what other people think. She lives for herself.

"Bro, you gonna keep staring her down like that or you gonna talk to me?"

"Gaeul, I have to ask: why are you here?"

"To save you from doing something stupid. Though I might be too late." Gaeul throws a side-eye down the bar to Minju while she takes a drink.

"Don't take it out on her." You shrug. "She—"

"Hey, I get it, she's hot," Gaeul rests her cup back on the bar and brushes a hair away from her cheek and back behind her ear. "I could tell when I walked in. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together, but what I don’t understand is you. Do you just enjoy being used by anyone with a nice body?" Gaeul put her hand up between you, palm showing, stopping you from replying. “Actually, don't answer that. What I'm saying is, don't you want more?”

Gaeul takes another drink from her coffee, holding you in suspense. The truth is that you don't really have an answer and you're not in any state of mind right now to make one.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we girls talk. About love and relationships and sex and well... Just stop being so naïve, will you? If you get caught up playing the game, you're the one that's going to end up played." She picks the cup up again, cradling the warm mug between her fingers, wrapping her slender digits around it, squeezing gently. A long inhale follows as the aroma rises, the scent strong and enticing.

"I didn't ask for any of this." It's a defence so weak that you don't even support yourself. It's a hard denial of the fact that you have been used. Wonyoung has had you under her thumb from the start. And maybe you have gotten a little too comfortable under there.

"Listen, stop thinking with your cock for one day, bro. Tomorrow morning, go pick Yujin up from her house and take her out to get a dress for the party." She's talking fast, laying out a plan you weren't prepared for.

"She asked you earlier, remember, and don't worry, I already picked out a few that I know she will like. I'll text you the photos and what stores they're in. And for the love of god, just enjoy her company without trying to cum on her."

You shouldn’t feel insulted by that, but you do. These girls really share everything.

Gaeul continues her instructions, "and then you turn up at the party on time, take the opportunity to forget everything that's happened and have a fun evening with Yujin, okay?"

It sounds so logical that it's impossible not to follow—even if it's rarely ever that simple. You agree. A silent nod, but enough to assure her that her words have reached you.

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

Gaeul places the coffee mug back down on the table, pushes it away, and turns to face you. "Please make sure you dress nice, too. None of this"—she motions to your clothes—"can make an appearance. Seriously.” She smiles to herself as she stands up from the stool.

"Did I hear something about a party?" Minju returns with a renewed smile.

Gaeul rolls her eyes and gives you a slight shake of her head. Her way of letting you know that she has already seen enough of the new addition to your life.

"I think I've spent enough time here already. You should probably get home, too.”

You glance toward your drink, and Gaeul rolls her eyes. She laid out the recipe to success so simply and left you in charge of your future.

She offers Minju no quarter, merely walking toward the door she came through without a word. And she gets none in return, Minju quickly forgetting she was ever here to spoil your fun.

Minju repeats her earlier question. "So, party? Tomorrow? Are you talking about Sakura's?" The name is somewhat familiar. The truth is that you don't know for certain whose party it is, or why it was happening, just a time and a place, but as Minju confirms the details with you, they match up. Not that you have ever met this girl in question, it's just another friend of Wonyoung's.

"I didn't plan to go, but if you're my chaperone, then I could be convinced." Minju's got a glint in her eye and a flirtatious lilt in her tone—the kind a girl pulls out when they're trying to tempt you into doing exactly what you know you shouldn't.

Gaeul told you just minutes ago to stop thinking with your cock and it’s easier said than done as Minju stares down at you with those eyes that look oh-so-pretty and the desire floods into you once again.

Still, there's some semblance of resistance in you. "It's not a good idea, for more reasons than I can even explain right now."

She stares at you in silence, smiling as she tries to understand, but her hands reach across and her slender fingers stretch over the top of yours. Fingers brushing over your knuckles and her thumb tucking under your palm.

"Don't ruin the fun," she replies. That spark. Flash. That temptation for more is so hard to resist. Gaeul’s words melt away.

"It's just that—"

"Think about the message it will send: I'll wear my sexiest dress and turn up arm-in-arm with you and Wonyoung will never know how close you were to being broken when you turned up here." It’s probably the worst message you could send, but it does sound exciting.

A momentary smile—lost to a sigh at the thought. "That's only going to stir up more trouble, Minju."

"All's fair in love and war. You ever heard of that? Your move.." She smiles at you—the sly, playful smile of someone who's in complete control, and is too willing to show it. Her hand tightens on yours and her eyes are unrelenting, and despite every sensible part of you warning yourself of her dangers, there's a spark that keeps growing inside that draws you back in.

"Are you really getting all proverbial with me right now?" You try to avoid giving her the answer she wants, but the girl is too smart to let you do that.

"Are you really avoiding giving me an answer? Well, it's too late now. We're going. You can come by and pick me up at seven?"

"Seven," you repeat. A resigned affirmation. "Here?"

"Not here, stupid. My apartment. I put my address in your phone notes."

"My phone?" You pat at your pockets, not feeling it anywhere.

"Here." She pulls it from her back pocket and throws you a gentle wink. "Don't forget about me now."

***

Luckily, it seems that news of your expulsion is still under wraps for now. Not only has no one from the class sent you a text about it, being their usual prying selves, but if the news had gone beyond the school and someone like Yujin's father had found out, he wouldn't have let you anywhere near his daughter.

Actually, everything today just feels so... normal. Even Yujin has avoided mentioning it while you have been out with her.

You're still out now, sitting on one of those chairs outside the changing rooms. You know the ones—placed there for a very specific set of people. The ones for the disgruntled boyfriends who hate this sort of thing and all it entails. With their various bags by their side full of clothes, jewellery and shoes.

That's a lot of guys anyway, but you—

"What do you think?" Yujin calls out as she pulls back the curtain and steps out into the hallway. "It looks nice, right?"

—aren't in their ranks today. You appreciate this ritual for what it is. There is no exasperation. No annoyance. Nothing but the simple delight of watching a beautiful woman twirl in front of you before her reflection.

"Looks great, Yujin," you answer with an honest smile.

She gives you another twirl, arms out, her slim and toned legs shown by the dress's thigh-length cut, her arms bare and the rest of her dress is tight fitting across her flat stomach and rounding her breasts. She's playing gently with the strap on her shoulder, adjusting it against her skin. With another turn and twist, the backless nature of the dress catches your eye.

"You say that about every dress I try."

"Well, they're all gorgeous. It's hard for me to pick one."

Her laughter is sweet and musical, and it hits your heart with a dull thumping, like a heavy drum being struck inside your chest. "You're not as much help as I hoped. What do you really think?"

Yujin drops a hand to her hip, planting it there and posing with a soft pout on her lips. She has her hair held back into a ponytail. "Tell me, am I sexy?" She punctuates the question with a shake of her hips. "Pretty? Cute? Tell me, do I look good enough to eat?"

"Eat?"

Yujin does that thing she always does; where when she finishes laughing after teasing you and she bites her tongue and it pokes through her lips. She drags the curtain back across, obscuring your view again, and you're left with nothing but the plain white corridor. That and the sounds of her carefully undressing on the other side of the draped fabric. You can imagine how she undid the zipper. How it opens from her lower back. The sound the fabric will make as it slides over her naked curves—

Fuck. Stop. Don't fantasise now. Not here.

You rock your head back, resting it against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. The white tiles aren't exactly exciting, but they are preferable to imagining anything Yujin is or isn't currently wearing.

"Can you believe it?" Yujin calls from behind the curtain, wrangling your attention back. "Nine whole days. No warning at all."

"Did I miss something?"

"My dad. He's gone for nine whole days this time. Only one day after momma has gone to visit my aunt. The house is weird without them. It's just me and the staff. It's cold and quiet. You should come over more." It's all so nonchalant for her to ask that. No mention of what happened the last time you were in her house. How you—

Yujin pulls the curtain and steps out. A new dress. It's hard to look away and even harder to look her in the eyes. This is an elegant red one, an alluring warm hue. The dress is cut high up on the thigh, close enough to the line of the panties you're actively not thinking about. Tight on her waist and a neckline that follows the collarbone and frames her neck and shoulders in soft fabric.

"Well?"

"Yes." It's the only word that comes to mind. She's the most beautiful thing. Your favourite image. She is like a perfect portrait, hung there just for your view.

"Yes what?" she asks.

"Yes to this dress. This is the one."

She pulls a look. One you're not exactly sure how to read. "And about coming over?"

"Um..." The old you would have leapt at the chance. Fuck, the current you wants to too, but you still haven't addressed the elephant in the room.

"What's going on with you?" Yujin quizzes. She knows you haven't been your usual self the whole day. Everything weighing on your mind, including a future where you quite literally have no idea what tomorrow will bring. You can feel it—have felt it—holding you back.

"Look..." You run a hand through your hair. "The school thing has been playing on my mind." It's half the truth.

"Is that it? It's only school."

"Yujin. It's my life. I don't have money or assurances or—"

"You have me." Yujin steps forward, looking down at you in your seat, smiling. "Right?"

You look at her all confused. How do you reply to that? What does she even mean by that?

"I've got your back, okay? Always," Yujin assures, her smile so calming and comforting and yet, her words leave something to be desired. "Trust me."

Yujin raises a delicate hand toward your cheek, hovering millimetres from touching, just close enough for you to feel her heat and her draw. For an agonising second, all is silent as the air hangs tense. Then the touch. The smoothness of fingers that have never worked a day in their life against your skin.

"I already called the school. Told them Daddy would cut his funding if they didn't brush it under the rug." It's all so easy for her. How casually she flaunts her money and influence. But as the fingers trace the edge of your jaw, graze across your cheeks and come to rest their pad beneath your chin, tilting your head upward and casting your vision toward the young woman's bright smile, you can’t help but pin your hopes on her.

There's this moment you're stuck in, staring at her smile and wishing you could kiss it. Her fingertips threaten to draw you in but just as you let them, she slips them off you and pulls herself back. "But—" Yujin says with a wink, "you owe me."

She takes three steps back, slipping back into the cubby of a changing room across from you.

Yujin turns to the mirror, admiring the dress, her fingers running flat against her stomach. Her arms trail up along her side and around, stroking and smoothing down the fabric. Her shoulders shift, tugging on the fabric and perfecting the fit as she always does. "You're right. This is the one. You have good taste."

Yujin reaches her hands behind her back, fingers reaching her upper back and to the fabric of the dress. You watch, breathing steadily, as her fingertips begin to work the zipper, sliding it downward ever-so-slowly, exposing an inch of skin, then another, and another…

She tilts her head and gives her hair a subtle shake, exposing the nape of her slender neck. With a gentle roll of her shoulders, the dress falls loose, slipping from the sharpness of her shoulders, and gathering up on her elbow and waist. Her back is bare to you, and when you can drag your eyes to the mirror, a lot more too. That's when you catch her gaze, looking back in the mirror, watching the effect she has as the dress falls further, fully from her arms and waist to the floor.

Now only her underwear hugs her hips, the soft lace of her panties a little sheer, framing her perfectly round ass. Her eyes are fixated on your own, her face almost twisted, so sadistically joyous, revelling in the sight of your torture. Yujin says nothing—how could she say a word to ruin this tension? A laugh slips through her lips, and then she reaches behind her for the curtain. Drawing an end to the act as she conceals herself behind the fabric.

“Take this," she calls through the curtain and you're still trying to settle back into reality when out pops her hand, the dress draped over it. "You still have my card, right? You can go pay."

You take the dress, not knowing how to reply.

Yujin continues, "meet you by the door."

***

"Did you two just—?"

"She's in the changing room, Rei. At the store."

"Oh." Rei sounds out of breath and fatigued, her words come heavy, laced with pants. "Fuck it. You can help me. You're the only person who answered."

"What's wrong Rei?" You're talking with your eyes fixed across the room, waiting to see Yujin emerge.

"What's the best excuse to get out of a guy's apartment?" Rei is hushed a little now.

"Wait. Are you in there right now?"

"In the bathroom, he can't hear me right now, but yeah. I need an out. This guy was texting me about how well he was going to fuck me and he blew in like a minute." There is some disgust in her tone, a clear sense of disillusion. "Dude ended up just watching me get off. Prick."

Trying to keep it on topic, and trying to not imagine Rei masturbating, you say, "family emergency is always a good one. Hang up. Walk back into the bedroom. Then I'll call you pretending to be your uncle."

"A sexy uncle or a creepy uncle?"

"Your choice?"

"I'd say you're more of a sexy uncle."

You try not to indulge her. "Rei. Go."

"Right."

She hangs up. And you give it a minute, counting back from sixty. You call her, and when she answers, you turn up your volume, which grabs the attention of a few people in the store. "Rei! Rei! Where are you?"

"Uncle? What's wrong? Calm down!" She even sounds slightly convincing.

"Your aunt. There's been an accident. You need to hurry." You're quieter now, and the eyes around you go back to whatever they were doing.

"Yes uncle. Right away! I'm on my way now." Then you barely hear her ad she's speaking to the mystery man in the room with her. "Sorry, I have to go. It's my uncle. My auntie... she..."

Wow. She even sounds so genuinely upset. There's probably even a fake tear in there somewhere. There's some more muffled conversation you can't make out, likely Rei's dropped the phone while she dresses. You can imagine it, even if you couldn't make out what's going on in the background. She's feigning a panic, apologising to the guy, quickly pulling on her panties while he's laid there all confused. She's grabbing a shirt, jeans, a coat, and then rushing out the door. All the while maintaining her worry.

"Uncle?" she calls down the phone after some sounds of commotion. "I'm on my way now." There's the sound of a door slamming in the background.

"Rei? You good?" you ask.

"I'm out now. Thank you. Ugh. At least one guy didn't let me down today. Why is it so hard to just get a good fuck?" She lets out the words with a sigh, her tone is annoyed, and the sound in the background has changed. Her steps. The outdoors. The sound of cars.

"Take it as a compliment. Maybe you're just too hot for him."

She laughs a little, "yeah or my pussy is too good. Some people aren't prepared for what my pussy can do." She laughs again, louder this time and it brings a chuckle from yourself.

"Got to go now, Rei. Text me when you're home," you tell her.

"Wait! Before you go, what are you doing in say... an hour?"

"You what now?"

"Come on." She whines in that exaggerated way she can't quite contain. "If you're not busy then..." She trails off and silence follows.

You're not even sure what to think. Not sure what to say. "Rei..."

"Just kidding. Thanks again." She speaks in a hurry and hangs up the phone quickly too, before you can even say goodbye. You bring the phone in front of you, to make sure the call ended. It did.

You look up from the screen just as Yujin appears across the store.

***

Yujin leads you through the mall as you trail just behind her, one arm draped in bags full of clothes worth more than triple the car you drove her here in.

"Trust me. If it's not in a cone, then it's just not right," Yujin insists. You're not sure how you've come down to arguing about the semantics of eating ice cream, but here you are.

"But what if it's in a glass and it has a wafer with it? It's the same taste. The same substance," you contend, trying to reason.

"That's a sundae and sundaes are a whole different thing altogether. Everyone knows that."

"Okay, so what's wrong with that, but in a plastic cup?"

"You mean in a disposable container with not much thought, nor flavour nor creativity?" She stops in place, turning to you and saying, "Ice cream is an experience." She raises her hand to her head, grabbing at it and feigning frustration.

"So, glass okay, cone okay, plastic cup, not okay? Even if it's the same ice cream in all three?"

"Exactly." That's her reasoning, for leading you all the way to the other side of the mall, to the place that puts ice cream in a cone, and not in a little tub.

You hold your tongue for a minute and follow. Waiting for that perfect moment to throw your next question out there. You're slipping through the crowds of people, cutting around groups as they browse and peruse the items on display at the front of each store, and occasionally avoiding the people mindlessly walking on their phones.

Yujin is looking ahead and she doesn't see it coming. Two kids running right across her path. You quickly reach for her arm and pull her out of the way just in time to avoid them running headlong into her.

"What are you—"

"Careful." You tilt your head towards the kids as they run across in front of you.

"Oh." Yujin flicks her gaze after them and turns it up at you, smiling. "My hero," she says whimsically, almost to the point you feel she's mocking you. Yujin lifts her arm under your grasp until she meets your hand with her own, and then interlocks her fingers into yours. She continues leading as if nothing at all has changed. You're following her again, past countless stores, your hand bound with her all along.

"So, Yujin, soft-serve or—"

"Don't even go there." Yujin laughs, turning to flash you a smile. She pulls on your hand to bring you to a stop. "Here we are."

"But, we didn't even discuss flavours..."

***

It's different, and not entirely comfortable. Usually, Yujin is buried in her phone, scrolling down her feed, flicking through stories or reading all those weird Instagram message requests she gets from her followers. Not this time. No, Yujin is sitting beside you in the passenger seat, her phone nowhere to be seen—enjoying life. Enjoying your company.

She still has her ice cream, in a cone just as she wanted, and she's sharing it with you as you drive. She reaches over between her licks to give you a taste.

It's not just that, it's how talkative she is—now more than ever. Never has she been so willing to discuss her family. She's just finished telling you all about her auntie and how her mother helped her set up a shop overseas, and how she’s visiting her right now. All this talk has led her to her father, who she talks about with much less fervour.

You will never forget the first time you met him; the imposing aura the man commands and his rigorous standards for everything. Her stories though? They seem more like myths.

"He ran a whole rival company into the ground. Pricing them out of deals, cutting shady deals himself. It was ruthless. But effective," Yujin says, pausing before she gives her ice cream another lick. "Hundreds of people lost their jobs; it was all on the news. I was young, so I didn't really understand. Mother tells me it changed him. He was away for a long time. I went years without really spending time with him."

"Yujin... I don't understand. He always seems so..."

"Nice?" Yujin completes the statement for you with a sarcastic laugh. "When he's home, he puts on the act. But when he's away, sometimes mother just wishes he would stay there." She's looking straight ahead now, focusing on the view out the front window as you dip off the highway.

"Can I ask about the scar, then?" It's a topic you're unsure about broaching, but it feels like the kind of chance that won't come again if you leave it.

"Scar? The one on his neck? He wouldn't even tell me or mother how he got it. Probably some ex-employee, or... an ex-lover." That's the one thing you knew about him. Yujin told you before about how he barely even hides his trysts from his wife and the damage it has caused.

"Sometimes I wish the entire company would just burn, and we would all be left with nothing. Have a normal life."

“A normal life isn’t any better, Yujin. Just a different shade of the same colour.”

There's a vulnerability to her now that always seemed so elusive. It's the softness of her tone and the almost timid smile that crosses her face when you look over. Then comes the quiet. The silence as she waits—waits for the world to answer all her unanswered questions. Waits for you to give the reassurance she needs, to know she's not alone.

With one hand still on the wheel, you reach the other over to her lap and find her hand.

"Don't." Yujin pushes back at first. But the harder she pushes, the tighter you squeeze and you let her know that you're going to be here. Her resistance crumbles and the fight subsides. And Yujin entwines her hand back with yours, locking her grip. "Thank you."

You turn the next corner and the molten orange afternoon sun burns ahead of you, threatening to fall below the horizon. Its warm rays burst with vivid colour.

"You never talk about your parents," Yujin asks with a soft curiosity.

"I don't know them. It's just my brother and me. Always has been. Always will be. He raised me," you explain so simply.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I sound so ungrateful now." This might be the first time you have ever heard Yujin utter that word—sorry. She holds a little tighter onto your hand, a returned reassuring squeeze to tell you she cares.

You keep hold of her as you turn into the gated grounds of her house, pull up into her long-cobbled driveway and pull the car over in front of the door.

"You should come in, stay with me until the party," she offers, refusing to let go of your hand.

"I have to go home, I have to wash and change and..." You trail off, omitting the fact you also have to go to Minju's place before the party. Her hold on your hand loosens as you speak but you hold a little tighter and tell her, "but, I'll see you soon."

The warmth of her touch departs your grip. Her face seems more understanding. "You will." She smiles and behind her, through the window, you spot her staff approaching to help with her bags. "Don't be late, okay?"

You give her a firm single nod as she steps out of the car.

***

You're about to buzz for the third time, but you pause to check your phone. You read the address over and over. You're at the right place. Maybe Minju made a typo? Maybe she did this on purpose just to waste your time? You press the buzzer a third and final time. It rings and rings until eventually the screen lights up.

Minju's face is pressed to the camera. "You're early."

"Actually, I'm right on time."

She turns away from the camera to check the clock on the wall. She leans a little to get a better look, bringing more of her into view. More accurately, bringing her bare shoulders into the camera shot. "Fuck," she says as she turns back to the camera. "Okay, look, just come up."

"But I have a taxi here waiting."

"So wave them away." The camera cuts off and the door buzzes open.

You roll your eyes and open the door, turning to the taxi driver and lazily waving a hand before you enter.

When you make it to Minju's apartment, a surprise awaits. You find the door unlocked—that's not the surprise. What's behind it is what is so unexpected. It looks like the aftermath of a localised apartment tornado.

There are shoes on the floor between strewn-out items of clothing as soon as you enter. There's a pair of her jeans right by the door and next to them a bra. You drag your eyes across the room and things don't get any better. You don't even want to know how that pair of tights ended up hung over her TV. Or why there's one of her bomber jackets hung from the fridge? And you especially don't want to question how the back of her sofa became her de facto underwear drawer—there are six or seven pairs laid out along it.

"Minju, it's me," you call out.

Minju pokes her head from her bathroom door. "Take a seat."

"And where in the world am I supposed to find one?" Even her dining chairs hold two folded stacks of work clothes.

Minju shrugs and scrunches her nose before ducking back into the bathroom. A moment of silence is followed by the blaring of a hair dryer. You navigate the floor like a minefield until you close in on the door she just slipped into. You check your watch, just twenty-five minutes until when you told the girls you would be there. Until when Yujin is expecting you—alone.

"Minju!" You call over the sounds of her drying her hair..

She speaks from within, her voice almost completely muffled. "What's wrong?" The sounds cut to quiet.

"Ten minutes until we need to—" Your voice is caught in your throat as Minju emerges from the bathroom. She's wearing nothing but the scent of her soap and the soft glisten of her damp skin. And, in true Minju style, she doesn't cover herself, she doesn't even shy away.

It’s all so… blasé.

"My eyes are up here." Her giggling is playful and sultry, luring you to her, and there is no place else for your gaze to drift. All you have to do is watch. Follow every drop and curve, every exquisite angle. The wet, raven hair hangs heavy down her back.

"You— we— clothes— where are your clothes?"

"Ummm..." Minju raises her hands in a form of shrug as she twists and scans around the room. "They're somewhere here. Probably." She keeps walking, across your path and into the kitchen. You watch her as she struts all the way to the far counter. She stands for a moment or two in a pose, her weight on one leg and the other propped on her tiptoe.

She finally turns back to you, half a bottle of wine in her hand and a half-cocked smile on her lips.

"Minju, I need to—"

"When was the last time you had a drink? Anything since yesterday afternoon?" she asks as she sweeps two glasses that don't even look clean from the countertop.

"No, nothing, but—"

"How about sex? Fucked anyone else since me?" she's asking so casually as she places the two glasses on the small part of her table that isn't covered in books, papers and boxes. She uncorks the wine bottle and begins to pour.

"What? No, but Minju... it's almost—" Your pointless protests are stilted by the young woman thrusting a glass of wine towards you, which you feel compelled to step closer and take. You stand across from her, glass in hand, staring at a face that's staring back.

"Me neither. Cheers," she says, tilting her glass toward you as an invitation. You clink them together and follow her lead, drinking the wine in one go. “That's the drink out of the way. Now how about a fuck?"

Minju places her glass onto the table and then she approaches, sauntering one foot in front of the other until her bare chest presses against yours.

"Time is ticking, I know." Her mouth is beside your ear, whispering into it and brushing the tip of her nose across your cheek. “But we can be quick."

She slides back a step, her hand taking hold of your collar, tugging you toward her as she takes another step. You pass by the table and you take the chance to place your glass alongside hers before she continues to draw you across the room.

You don't resist. Couldn't stop yourself even if you wanted. You step as she guides you. Follow as she leads until her hips rest against her kitchen counter. There you close the space, pressed together, looking into her dark eyes—tainted with want. There's something about Minju that makes everything simple. All the world, the noise, the games. All the expectations and pressures of normal life are foregone and stripped away, leaving only you, her, and basic instinct.

Your fingers cup her jaw, following the smoothness and warmth of her cheeks. It's a subtle action, a movement slow in motion yet so immediate in meaning. As you make your desires known, the sparkle that plays at the corners of her eyes draws your lips into hers.

You near a kiss until she turns away at the last moment, leaning herself forward and presenting her bare back to you. "What do you see?" she asks, looking back at you.

The soft curve of her spine paths her back all the way to the dimple at the base. You smooth the flat of your palm along her sides, touching gently across the silkiness of her warm, wet skin. Your lips come down, pressed to her shoulder and you brush the tip of your nose along her nape. And just like that, you're intoxicated by her. All sense and rationality abandoned. "You."

"Then fuck me." Her voice is sweetly coarse, a gentle whisper. You hear a faint noise escape, a gentle mewing of want.

And fuck you will. Your hands run over her, squeezing gently as you lower. All the while she presses and writhes herself against you, rubbing and stirring at your building lust, toying it further and further. Minju bends over more, backing herself against you until you're made to take a step back. She keeps her hands against the wood as she lowers her head further and slightly parts her legs.

You're quick to unbuckle your belt, pop the button, unfasten the zipper and slip your boxers low enough to take out your dick. Hard, ready, wanting, and there's an invitation in front of you. Bare and inviting, warm and moist, enticing and so perfect.

Minju turns to flash her eyes over her shoulder, holding the very image of invitation. So, with only that little cue needed, you slide inside her. One short stroke followed by a deep, stretching push, all the way, your hips crashing to meet her. Slow, sensual motions in and out as you grip her waist.

"Faster. Like you mean it." There it is. The thing you love and hate about Minju—the expectation, the challenge, the attitude, the need for more.

A few deep breaths and you grip a little tighter. Brace your legs a little firmer and with a shift of weight forward you drive harder into her and her mewl of approval spurs you onward. You hit a rhythm that suits you both. Her back arches. She sways forward with each motion before bucking her hips back, pushing you as hard as you're pulling, matching your want with hers.

As you both find comfort in your actions, a rhythm that doesn't chase a high but pleases wholly, Minju looks over her shoulder again with a question on her lips. "Who's Yujin?"

A quick answer leaves you. "Not now," you respond, while you pull at her hips and pull a whine from her.

Minju's voice is barely a whisper. She repeats the name, questioning it a second time and asking, "You didn’t tell me yesterday. Who is she?"

"Can't you let it go?"

"You have your cock in me. Least you can do is answer my question." Minju is smiling when she says it, showing her teeth with a look that just dares you to not do as she says.

"Fine," you reply and then slide your hand up her body, reaching to cup one of her tits while you fuck her. "Yujin is a friend," you say, and you know how unsure you sound. "And she's a friend of Gaeul and Wonyoung too."

"So, really, have you fucked her too?" The question is as blunt as she can possibly make it and Minju emphasises it further with a deliberate shake of her ass into you, driving her hips back to make a point.

"Nope."

"But you want to." This time, a statement, not a question.

"Why do you think that?"

"As soon as I mentioned her name I could feel you twitch inside me. Fuck me a little bit harder. You wish I was her." Minju laughs, a hand moving behind her back, snaking around to grip her own ass.

"I didn't. I just— It was you, I—"

"I don't care. Think about her if you want. As long as you fuck me." Minju is demanding, the statement becomes her prerogative. She bites her lip and plays with herself. She knows exactly the way to tease and taunt. "That's why you're even doing this? Did Yujin not show enough affection? Too high and mighty to put out? Or does she just not like you?"

"It's complicated." You slow your movements to a series of leisurely strokes. It gives you a moment to collect your thoughts and choose your words. "We've had... moments... but I don't really understand her. But fuck she drives me insane. She's this mystery and sometimes a contradiction and you know what, Minju? Sometimes she infuriates me with her teasing." You remember just earlier today, her little show in the changing room and how it led to nothing more. You hold Minju a little firmer with a tight grasp on her waist and her breast. The anger pushes your hips against hers with a little more force.

"Ooohh... someone is frustrated. It's fucking hot when girls play coy, isn't it? Seeing her and the power she has over you. Dangling the prize and not giving it to you." Minju arches her back and looks at you, a curl in the corner of her lips as she asks, "would you rather be inside her?"

"I'm inside you," is all the answer that comes. It is a grunting, panting whisper. You thrust a little deeper and a moan fills the air.

"Fuck me harder then, use me. Fuck me like I'm Yujin. Like I'm the fucking tease that's finally giving you what you want."

There's something about the way she's taunting and coaxing you that awakens this raw, carnal lust. How does she read you this well? She's got your thoughts down to the very emotion in such a perfect moment, in a time of emotional fragility, and in a way that's strangely flattering, a kind of praise in and of itself. And Minju is saying everything that excites you most about the way you think about Yujin. All of the want and the unfulfilled frustration. All of it validated.

So you fuck her. Truly fuck her.

And you try and bury into her how much Yujin affects you. You push Minju's hips against the counter, slamming her against it and she sends a couple of pots flying in her wake. "Yes, you want her like this," she says in between pants as your thrusts speed to new heights. Minju bucks her hips into you to meet your motions, but even as she braces herself as best she can, she cannot quite catch up.

"Take her as you take me," she cries, letting out the mewing moans with a chorus of gasps, one for every time you grind your cock deep within her, you feel a squeeze, the gripping of her walls, the milking, beckoning tightness. "Break her, like she's never been fucked."

"Ahhh Minju..." You grind in deeper.

"Yujin. You're fucking Yujin!" Minju calls.

You are driven to your deepest. One final stroke as Minju clamps her thighs together.

She yells her words in an abrupt, lustful explosion. "What does Yujin like? Does she like this?" Minju teases, trying to sound seductive despite the audible lack of air in her chest and the torrents of orgasmic energy flooding through.

"Fuck," you grunt, clapping your hips against Minju's ass. Your mind is a cocktail of reality and imagination. A beautiful girl in front of you. The image of Yujin taking off her dress in your mind. That fucking tease, showing you and playing with you and taunting you. She's smiling—they're both smiling. Minju and Yujin. Looking back at you. Smiling, goading, taunting, playing.

"Harder! Fucking harder!" Minju squeals with excitement as she throws herself against the surface in front of her, sending more things flying out the way onto the floor. You have a hand in the centre of her back, pinning her down while you slam into her throbbing cunt. Again and again, the slaps and the wet smacks resound with every impact. "Let it out," she squeals.

Her words stir an inferno, building a flame inside and its warmth fans out, spreading and warming every part of you. Its fire melting and burning you in its powerful force. And then with one last plunge, you hold yourself, pressing as deep into her as possible, filling her up and sending yourself bursting and exploding through her.

The rushing wave. Flooding torrent. Thunderous release.

Everything let go.

In her, and held fast, still spasming, still releasing, spilling, and pouring everything. Everything spent, empty, drained. You try and catch the breath that evades your racing heart and heaving chest. Sweaty and slick. Warm and tender. The exhaustion settling in.

It's all so fucking cathartic. A long-suppressed and repressed fire finally unleashed and given its time to burn. Unhindered and unchained, and all under the watchful eye of your own personal confidant, coaxing out what's been buried, releasing its lock, freeing its bounds.

"Now tell me... how long have you wanted that?" Minju asks, and the satisfaction in her voice makes it clear that she already knows.

With your pulse pounding and breath racing, you're not ready to face her just yet. It takes another moment, holding her, pressed against her, feeling the closeness in a way that you could almost say is romantic. Minju wriggles under you and releases a laugh.

She shuffles and slides away from you, forcing your still sensitive, softening dick to slip from her. Now she is facing you and it's a sight worth appreciating, but at the same time, so, so dangerous. Her beauty is special, but your mind is a mess.

"So..." Minju pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, trapping it between her teeth for a second as she dips her head then she laughs. "Did you have any other fantasies with her?"

"Minju." It's the most exhausted warning you can muster as you sink to the floor, sitting back against a kitchen cupboard.

"If it's any consolation. She's missing out. You're a great fuck. Just what I needed."

"Right back at you," you say, leaning back your head, exhausted, to rest on the cold wood. You stare up at the white ceiling, in a strange reminisce. It isn’t exciting but it’s preferable to your thoughts.

"Hmmm, that's cute." Minju is still standing beside you, using a piece of kitchen towel to awkwardly clean herself up. She wipes the thick, slick mess away and asks, "And look. What we just did, it's not weird. I get it. We're two friends just helping each other out. No strings."

You nod slowly, taking her sentiment.

"Don't worry. Yujin will know nothing. Our little secret," Minju says, patting your head. You sit for a moment in silence, Minju still by your side, she's getting herself a bottle of water now from the pack next to her.

"Minju?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is your place such a fucking mess?"

***

A/N: future parts will pick up in a smut sense with the other characters, promise.

also, I have no idea what i'm doing anymore with this part, I feel like this part isn't very good, but trust me, big things are coming.

#minju smut #kim minju smut #izone smut #yujin fluff #gaeul #rei smut #m reader #kpop fanfic #male reader #kpop smut #ive smut #ive fluff #folie a deux

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jungkookschin · 7 months

Text

older

think i need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight off your shoulders

synopsis: all your friends say you're delusional for thinking you have a chance with jungkook, the handsome older man you've known since forever, but you just can't seem to let him go. word count: 18k

pairing: older!jungkook x afab reader

genre: age gap au (seven years), social media au!!!, childhood acquaintance au, fluff, comedy, angsty, outta pocket, alludes to sexual innuendoes warnings: character death (not jk or y/n), cursing, nudity,

author's note: i am so overwhelmed with the support i've gotten for this fic!! obviously this isn't going to be the best written fanfic, but i genuinely enjoyed writing it!! and yes, there will be a part 2!

PART 1 | PART 2

“Girl.. be for real. He doesn’t want you.” Beomgyu’s opinion bounces off your bedroom wall but shoots into your heart like an arrow; you subtly glare at him through your vanity mirror. Though, the Snorlax plush headband and unblended concealer in triangles under your eyes is far less than intimidating.

“Okay, fuck you-”

Beomgyu shrugs. “You can wear all the makeup in the world and you would never get his attention,” he nonchalantly utters, not caring enough to even look at you while he addresses you. You pout, sulking as Beomgyu’s very real assertion settles into your system.

Jeon Jungkook would never see you that way.

He adores you because you’ve been acquainted since childhood- your parents being close friends. He’s seven years older than you and has witnessed you blossom from a childish boy-crazy kid to an equally boy-crazy adult, the same way you’ve seen him go from a prepubescent pre teen to a hot, older, rich, man.

“Look, and that’s not to say that you’re not pretty or whatever because you are pretty and a lot of guys want you, but Jungkook… he’s just too old for you,” he offers you an empathetic smile before attempting to assuage the petulance in the air. “Honestly, I would be even more concerned if he responded to your advances because that would be.. hella weird.”

Beomgyu’s claims often transform your brain into a philosophical battlefield. Would it really be all that inappropriate for Jungkook to see you as a woman? An age gap of seven years holds no real significance if you were both in your 20’s, right? But does Jungkook knowing you since childhood completely nullify any chance you have with him?

“Oh fuck off with that. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m already 19 years old, almost 20-”

“The delusion is never escaping this one…” Beomgyu mumbles. He finally looks up from his phone when you spring up from your chair and stomp over to him. You hold your manicured claw up to scratch his face, but Beomgyu grabs your wrist before you can do any damage.

“You’re such a horse girl, don’t try to scratch me- wait are you crying?” Beomgyu’s gaze melts after noticing the tears accumulating in your waterline.

“No!” you respond, the tip of your nose becoming slightly red. You raise your sleeve to wipe your nose.

“Wait Y/N! You’re going to get makeup all over my hoodie!-”

Beomgyu halts when he sees your unblended concealer transfer onto his very white and expensive hoodie. His lips form into a straight line while he stares at you blankly.

“Sorry?” you squeak. He gestures dramatically- blinking at you like a pissed off owl.

…

You bolt to the door, sprinting from Beomgyu before he quickly follows in pursuit of you. You run through the house, tumbling down the stairs frantically, and when you turn the corner, you stub your toe against the wall, stumbling over and falling flat on your face.

You shriek in pain, holding onto your toe. Your eyes immediately tear up, sobbing through the pain blistering in your toe. And for some reason, Beomgyu is nowhere to be found.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You freeze when none other than Jungkook pops out of his room, completely shirtless with nothing but gray sweats on. His abs are literally ripping in your face and his entire sleeve of beautiful tattoos are practically mocking you- especially the mask one. It's laughing in your face because it gets to be on Jungkook’s body and you don’t.

You begin to cry even harder. No physical pain would ever compare to the pain of not being able to have him.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened?” Jungkook kneels down and takes your foot in his large hands.

Thank God you got your toes done the day before. His thumbs press into the balls of your feet while he carefully inspects your toes. “Not fractured, I think. Think you can get up, baby?”

Baby. He’s been calling you that stupid nickname since forever. That’s what everybody used to call you when you were younger; you were the youngest of all your parents’ friends’ kids after all. But for some reason, the nickname only seemed to stick with Jungkook. He has this horrible tendency (not really) of doting on you, taking care of you, and spoiling you to oblivion.

You sniffle, shaking your head.

Jungkook’s handsome face crinkles into a subtle laughter, an amused expression etched onto his features. He takes his pointer finger and thumb, pinching your nostrils and wiping your snot onto his sweats.

You smile sheepishly, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

This man will literally touch your feet and boogers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. That has to mean something, right?

Jungkook scoops you into his arms bridal style and takes you into his room.

Why Jungkook has a room in your house is beyond you. It seems like he was always over doing some errands for your parents- not that you were complaining, of course. He sets you down on his bed and uses his large palm to smooth over the frizzy hairs that are sticking up.

“Just stay here for a while. I’ll take you to Urgent Care if it hurts in a few hours.”

Truth be told, that shit didn’t even hurt anymore, but there’s no way you were going to pass this opportunity up. You nuzzle into Jungkook’s sheets, his masculine smell absolutely amplifying your will to live. His cologne smells so good, the musky elegance of his scent making you dizzy as you bask in his essence.

Anyways! Looks like you’re canceling your plans with Beomgyu. Apparently, he already knows that.

Shutting your phone off, your eyes drift towards Jungkook, owlishly blinking at the computer code projected onto his large monitor. He’s got everything going for him: rich, hot, smart, successful. You want to cry again. “Jungkook, can I ask you something?”

His focus remains on the screen, eyes still boring onto the monitor before he absentmindedly responds, “Sup?”

“What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla just walked into this room right now?”

Jungkook’s fingers pause, hovering above his light up keyboard. He swivels around in his chair, his handsome features crinkling in evident confusion.

“I’m serious. What would you do if a bear, a lion, and a gorilla showed up in your room? If you aren’t able to answer the question, then I don’t really know if I feel safe here,” you elaborate as you gesture with your hands, the bratty tone laced in your voice attempting to guilt trip him for not having a backup plan for this very specific specific situation.

“Easy. I would feed you to them and then escape,” Jungkook bites back a cheeky smile before spinning around and returning to his work.

You gasp dramatically, pouting before you pull his covers over your head.

Jungkook hums to himself, laughing at how obnoxious you can be.

Later on, another question is conjured in your imaginative little mind, and Jungkook’s lip twitches when he hears your classic Jungkook, I have another question.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you think you could put me on with your piercing guy?”

Jungkook swivels around in his chair once again. “Thought you already had your ears and belly pierced.”

“It’s not enough. I want more. Wanna be like you,” you murmur, eyes settling on his five piercings decorating his left lobe, the one in his eyebrow, and the two on his lips.

“It is enough,” he immediately counters, “You shouldn’t put holes in your body.”

You cock a brow at him. “I know you’re not talking.”

Jungkook’s lip twitches upwards at your cheekiness. “Yea, I’ll send you his instagram. Tell him you’re with me and he’ll squeeze you in as soon as possible.”

“And I told Soobin to not piss in the water bottle, but he did anyway. And guess what? I almost drank from the same water bottle. Can you believe that? I was so fucking pissed at him I almost threw his piss back on him…” Yeonjun can tangibly feel that you’re not all there, your eyes occasionally drifting off- so his eyes follow your train of vision until-

“Oh c’mon Y/N!” Yeonjun’s fingers release the grip on the gym equipment, causing the weights to thunderously slam back into place. You yelp, flinching a bit before you swat Yeonjun’s biceps.

“You scared me you bitch!”

“You scare me! And what the fuck are you wearing? What kind of basic bitch wears a pink set to the gym?”

You gasp dramatically. “You did not just say that.”

“And stop drooling over Jungkook! He doesn’t want you-mmmphh!” You clasp your palm over Yeonjun’s mouth mid-sentence, your boba eyes glaring up at him. You release your hand, pouting at him dramatically when you feel you’ve tortured him enough.

Hands on your hips, you continue glowering at him and he gladly reciprocates the scowl on your lips.

Yeonjun acquiesces from the glare-off almost immediately, too entirely soft to hold a grudge against his best friend. “Did you only agree to come to the gym with me to see Jungkook?” he asks, sincere disappointment laced in his words.

You immediately soften, disheartened to hear the crestfallenness in his tone. You shake your head at the notion. “No- I wouldn’t do that. I swear he’s here by coincidence,” you explain thoughtfully, “I’m sorry for being an inattentive friend. It wasn’t intentional. I just get distracted whenever I see him. I’m sorry.” Your eyes return to Yeonjun’s who smiles knowingly at you. He opens his arms, offering an embrace and you gladly accept, hugging all the problems away.

“You’re such a lovestruck girl,” Yeonjun teases.

“I can’t help it. He just looks so good. Look at his arms and his tattoos- oh Yeonjun, I’ll never get over him. What should I do?”

“We just have to kill him. That’s the only option left,” your eyes meet his, his empty gaze boring into your skull before you both burst into giggles.

“You’re right. That is the only option left.” You take a step back to stretch your arms, releasing the tension in your limbs until you sense a very familiar walking pattern approaching you.

“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook casually greets, creeping behind you to wrap a single arm around your shoulder. He pulls you closer to him from behind, nonchalantly nuzzling his forehead into the back of your head. You use both your hands to grip onto his thick forearm. “Um, hey Kook.”

Yeonjun bites back laughter, watching how you practically become hysterical at Jungkook’s casual gesture.

Jungkook uses his vacant hand to dap up Yeonjun- over your head. “What’s up Yeonjun?” Jungkook grins. Yeonjun reciprocates the friendly greeting. “Hey, how’ve you been? You looked great with the tricep presses.”

Jungkook beams at that. “Oh, you saw? I’ve been bulking so I’m trying to go super heavy with the weights.”

“I can tell. You look fucking enormous,” Yeonjun comments.

Jungkook immediately dismisses the compliment with a wave. “Don’t say that. You look good too…”

Tuning out of the interaction, your brain begins to malfunction when you realize that Jungkook is extremely familiar with all of your friends. You definitely aren’t the most social person, often opting to napping in your cozy bed instead of going into the harsh, unforgiving world, but you are lucky enough to have great friends like Yunjin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, and Jungkook knows all of them. That had to be indicative of something deeper, right? Perhaps his underlying affection for you? Or a sign that he was possibly in love with you?

“What are you giggling about?” Jungkook teases, gently using his vacant hand to ruffle your hair.

You crimson intensely. “Nothing,” you sheepishly respond, skitterishly ducking under Jungkook’s arm to scurry behind Yeonjun, using your friend as a protective shield.

“What’s up with her?” Jungkook asks Yeonjun, to which Yeonjun feigns ignorance. “Not a clue.”

“Well then, I’m gonna head out. I’m actually staying at Y/N’s for a bit because her parents are out of town. Can you believe I still have to babysit her?” Jungkook says to Yeonjun, giving you a teasing glance.

“It’s just in case someone stalks me or tries to kill me! I don’t need to be babysat,” you emphasize, scowling at Jungkook and he can’t help but to reach out and pinch your cheek. The casual gesture sends you over the moon.

“Whatever you say. You need a ride home though? I can wait so Yeonjun doesn’t have to waste gas on you,” Jungkook suggests, eyes darting towards yours then Yeonjun’s to detect any traces of reticence or hesitation in his features.

You do the same, glancing towards Yeonjun who actually sports a look of indifference. You playfully link your arms with Yeonjun’s before sending Jungkook a downward smile. “It’s okay Kook. Wanna spend time with my friend today.”

A touched gasp leaves Yeonjun’s lips as he holds his hand over his heart, gesticulating dramatically to convey his surprise that you would choose him over the man you’ve been salivating over the past thirty minutes.

Jungkook has no protests about your preference. “Alright Y/N, see you at home. See you Yeonjun,” he gives you a little squeeze before he departs.

Yeonjun waits until Jungkook is out of ear shot to provoke you, mocking you in an obnoxious, high pitched voice, “I don’t need to be babysat! You’re such a baby- but thank you for choosing me, you know.”

You tilt your head, eyebrows pinching before you subtly frown at Yeonjun’s comment. “Of course I would choose you. You’re my friend.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world- because it kinda is. Bros over hoes any day.

Yeonjun’s lips quirk up at the sentiment, “Oh how touching, thank you so much for gracing me with your presence, my queen.”

Jungkook thinks you can be such a princess sometimes, especially when you drag your feet back into the house, a sour expression consuming your pretty features. Particularly receptive to your emotional fluctuations, he doesn’t hesitate to ask you what’s up.

He leans against the kitchen counter, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows as his eyes settle on your moping figure. “Who made you sad? Bring them to me right now,” he muses.

You pause, letting your light green gym bag (with little Snorlax’s decorated all over it) fall to the floor with a thud before gazing at him with a vacuous expression. “Why are you dressed up?” you point towards his work attire- a simple white button up and slacks. The buttons on his dress shirt are undone and messy, giving you access to his chest and it makes you want to roll around on the floor and cry. His slacks are tight- accentuating his long, muscular legs and you decide that you’d be okay with dying only if you were suffocated between his thighs.

“Had a work call,” he responds, indifference laced in his voice, “Now who made you sad? Want oppa to handle it for you?” he teases, releasing a breathless laugh at the way your nose scrunches up in disgust.

Nonetheless, you spill everything to Jungkook- because you always spill everything to Jungkook and because you trust him with everything in you. He makes you feel safe. Plopping yourself down on the seat by the dining counter, you wordlessly slide your phone across the counter. Jungkook effortlessly stops your phone with a single hand, his eyes scanning across the array of text messages popping up on the screen.

“Not this guy again,” he mutters under his breath, gauging the situation.

“I know!” you concede, “Wish he would leave me alone- but I feel like I have to respond.”

The text messages were from none other than your ex-boyfriend, telling you how much he misses you, how he’ll do better for you, and every other generic I want you back text in the book.

There are various reasons why you feel obligated to respond to him: (a) the whole breakup was a mess and (b) it was your fault. You were in a long-term, committed relationship with your high school sweetheart until you recognized your exponentially growing feelings for Jungkook. The guilt of breaking your ex’s heart haunts you- his crying, tear-stained face often popping up in your mind when you feel shitty, making you feel even shittier. Though you were no longer emotionally tied to him you do feel obligated to give him closure, or at the very least respond to his text messages.

But you’ve had this conversation with your ex numerous times. How much closure does one need in order to move on?

“You don’t have to respond to him,” Jungkook’s sonorous voice pulls you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. “You’ve already told him how you feel,” Jungkook is the rational force in your life, always tugging you towards the right direction, especially when your susceptible mind feels the need to please everyone and everything.

“I know,” you sigh, “I just feel bad. He was my first kiss, first boyfriend. It feels like I just abandoned him.”

A look of contemplation blankets Jungkook’s handsome face, evident by the way his fingers trace over his chin and lips. “That’s true,” he eventually asserts, “but no one as young as you should stay in a relationship out of obligation.” He approaches you and settles himself down on the vacant seat beside you. “Actually Y/N, I’m proud of you for building up the courage to let him go. It would be more painful if you forced yourself to stay.”

You purse your lips and nod, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation of Jungkook comfortingly rubbing your back. “t’s just sad. I used to love him.”

“I know Y/N, but sometimes you just have to start living in the present instead of the past. If you respond you’re just going to give him false hope. Just let it be,” he articulates, using prudence to assuage you.

You nod, craning your head to sustain eye contact with him, making the conversation feel all the more intimate and personal, “How would you feel if you were him? I mean- if your girlfriend broke up with you and you were still like- in love- with her?”

He tilts his head, thoroughly contemplating the question because he takes your feelings seriously, and he wants to give you the right answers. “If my girlfriend loses feelings then she loses feelings, there’s nothing I can do about it. I definitely wouldn’t beg for her back, I’d go out and make a lot of money instead,” he smiles, “But I wouldn’t know how it feels. I’ve never been dumped before,” he adds.

“Seriously?” you interject, not believing that Jungkook has never been dumped in his 26 years of living. “What about that one girl you brought to Thanksgiving Dinner a few years ago? What happened to her?”

“Ahh her?” he somewhat grimaces at the thought of his ex-girlfriend, “She was getting a little too suffocating so I let her go. She was really pissed off- tried to key my car and shit,” he states.

You gasp. His ex-girlfriend was so sweet to you- she even bought you a Snorlax plush keychain. But you can imagine Jungkook trying to hold her back while she jostles out of his grip, trying to key his car- his baby. “No way? If she ever comes back, just let me know. I’ll throw hands for you,” you enunciate, showing him your fists to which Jungkook just scoffs in amusement.

“Yea, I’ll definitely call you,” he remarks sarcastically before getting up, “So are you good, baby?” he asks, casually resting his hand on your shoulder, and you nod.

“‘M good. I’m not gonna respond to him.”

Jungkook’s lips quirk up at that. “Good.”

Jungkook is livid. You can tell by the way he spam calls you even after you repeatedly reject his calls. You quietly sneak out of the lecture hall and answer his call once you’ve reached the hallway.

“What? I’m in class,” you impatiently mutter.

“You’re fucking kidding, aren’t you?” he scoffs through the phone, “I canceled your appointment, by the way.”

The color drains from your face once you realize what this is about. “He told you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you thought you could go through me to get your nipples pierced! I can’t believe you thought I would let you do that!”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” you whisper shout into his phone, “I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want!”

“No you’re not. Baby, you can’t even drink,” he reiterates, a little more calmly this time.

“Who cares? You’re not my mom! I can do whatever I want. Even if it’s through someone else!” you bark back. The silence that ensues intimidates you.

“Baby.” His voice is low, and it’s kinda hot but you don’t pay attention to it because of how angry you are at him trying to monopolize your actions.

“I’m not a fucking baby anymore so stop calling me that!”

“You’re not a baby?” Jungkook laughs lowly into the phone, as if the claim itself is ridiculous.

“‘m not.” He can practically hear your pout through the phone.

“You can’t even get on a plane by yourself.”

You gasp at Jungkook’s low blow. That was one time. A month ago, you took a flight to Vegas for EDC to meet up with Yunjin, who flew out the day before you. But you had no clue how to check your bag in, and were far too intimidated to go through the security check by yourself. What if they thought your ID was fake? Or worse what if they sent you to jail? There was just no way you could go through by yourself.

You remember the way Jungkook shook his head at your preposterous notions but nonetheless still agreed to take care of you.

So Jungkook drove you to the airport, carried your bag for you, weighed it, and checked it in. He also stood with you for the entire thirty minute wait at security and only left the airport when called and told him you were waiting at the departure gate.

You don’t respond, and he takes it as an opportunity to further his point.

“That’s what I thought. End of story. You’re not getting it done.”

He hangs up and you blissfully sigh. This literally takes feminism back 32904098 years, but you kind of love a man that can put you in your place.

Jungkook goes to the gym everyday solely so he can beat the shit out of Taehyung and Mingyu, who get off on tormenting him for his extremely complex and profound feelings for you.

Hooking up to the bluetooth speaker and blaring the sound of police sirens, going “Ayo! He’s right here, officer!” every time they walk past a policeman- they even go as far as putting handcuffs on him while he sleeps- hooting and howling in laughter when Jungkook wakes with his hands restrained.

Initially, it made his intestines twist and turn with pure guilt, guilt about harboring feelings for you, the little girl who used to prance around his room and do cartwheels in futile attempts to impress him.

His friends make him feel like shit, but they’re his friends for a reason.

“Hey, so how’s Y/N?” Mingyu casually asks, sinking into the welcoming leather of Jungkook’s sleek, black sofa. He props his feet up on Jungkook’s coffee table- mahogany brown and custom designed to suit Jungkook’s meticulous and elegant taste.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at the nonchalance of the comment, half expecting Taehyung to pop out of nowhere in policeman cosplay, ready to put him in cuffs. “Why’re you asking?”

When Mingyu detects the hostility blanketing Jungkook’s features, his jaw drops in realization of the reality of the situation. “Wait.. you don’t take us seriously when we tease you about that shit, right?”

Jungkook cocks his head in confusion, settling beside Mingyu, chopsticks in hand as he blows on his ramen. “I mean, kinda. I feel guilty about it.”

Mingyu eyes his friend for a while, and Jungkook slowly turns his head towards Mingyu when he feels lasers boring holes into his skull. “What, asshole?”

“Ah, sorry man. I didn’t know it bothered you. I kind of thought it was a given that you and Y/N are cute together. Didn’t know the age gap bothered you.”

Oh.

Jungkook pauses, setting his sizzling ramen back into the plastic container instead of into his mouth, and Mingyu feels the need to further elaborate.

“I mean, you’re always helping her out, taking care of her, that’s pretty cute.”

Jungkook blinks at Mingyu, raking his tattooed hand through his hair. “Doesn’t that just make me look like a dumbass?” he mutters, before letting out a bitter, light-hearted laughter at the reality of his assertion.

His emotions for you run deep and intricate, but one thing remains unequivocally clear: he doesn't do these things because he expects something in return. That would be selfish. Obligation doesn't factor into his decisions either. Jungkook doesn't subscribe to such motivations when it comes to his personal life. He views it as unnecessary and cumbersome—except when it involves you. Whether it's looking after you, lending you money, helping you with homework, or driving you to the airport, he does it all because he genuinely loves you.

He acknowledges the peculiarity of his natural inclination to care for you. In the past, he's ended numerous relationships due to girls he found excessively clingy, suffocating, or overbearing, all attributes he easily uses to describe you- but he lives for that shit when it comes to you.

Mingyu’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What? That girl loves you, Jungkook. If she does good in school and gets rich, you’d be bathing in that shit,” Mingyu jokes, causing Jungkook to sputter out laughter at the absurd thought.

“Right now though?” Mingyu continues, “She wouldn’t be able to change your tire or some shit, but she brings you this sense of peace, and that’s something every guy needs in his girl.”

Jungkook pauses at that.

Jungkook is abruptly awoken by the blaring sound of his ringtone. Groggily, he reaches for his phone on the nightstand, eyes barely open.

You, the only person that would call him at 3 in the morning, and you the only person he would answer at 3 in the morning.

Babysitting is the last word he would use to explain why he’s at your house right now. He’s at your house because, well, he would do anything for you, even if you aren’t aware of the lengths he would go to keep you satiated and happy.

He’s aware that men find you charming for your ditzy and oblivious nature, but Jungkook likes you regardless of whether or not you possess such an arbitrary trait. But it is true that there are a lot of things you aren’t aware of, like how utterly lovely you are. Jungkook knows you- sees how oblivious you are to the men who shamelessly ogle at you, or the boys who practically break their necks to get a glimpse at you.

You have this resonating effect on him. You drive him crazy and you don’t even know it.

Initially, Jungkook had never truly focused his attention on you, yet as time passed, an irresistible attraction began to pull him toward you. He vividly recalls an incident in particular that left him dumbfounded.

Jungkook’s mom visited yours to drop off some vegetable. Gifting fruits and vegetables from their gardens are the way the aunties demonstrate their love and appreciation for one another. Jungkook reckons you didn’t know he was there because you pranced down the stairs with the tiniest boy shorts and camisole top. Jungkook isn’t the type of man to become disoriented over the sight of a woman’s body, practically desensitized from all the women he’s been with, but he stiffens at your presence.

“Wow baby!” His mother giggles, using your classic nickname as she ogles you shamelessly, “You’re getting really sexy!”

She playfully nudges your mom, “Are you ready to have grandchildren?” The joke makes your mother roll her eyes, though a smile lingers on her lips, infinitely proud of her beautiful daughter.

“I wish someone would marry my daughter!” Your mom jests, “All she ever does is sleep! I just wish a man would even look her way!”

Jungkook’s eyebrows pinch in bewilderment. He knew your mother was only joking, teasing you as per usual- because clearly, you are captivatingly gorgeous. You make a sly comment in return to make his mom giggle, always so smooth and sociable with the old ladies.

Suddenly, you randomly swivel around, yelping at Jungkook’s presence. “Oh hey,” you greet, fidgeting in place, “I didn’t know you were here. Sorry- I should cover up a little.”

For the first time in his life Jungkook is speechless in front of you. You. You just look so pretty standing in front of him, your manicured fingers twirling a single strand of hair, gazing at him and gnawing your lips like he makes you nervous when in reality you make him tremble with just one look. It makes his chest tighten and he inhales deeply to compose himself.

“No. Not at all, you should be comfortable in your own home,” the smile he offers you is forced, polite, and you’re bewildered at the tension accumulating between you and him. Your eyes glint downward; you can’t even look at him, and suddenly a bold wave of impulsivity washes over you.

“Hey Jungkook, can we talk in the other room?”

Jungkook’s eyes flash towards his mother’s then rapidly back at you. Subconsciously, his eyes trace down your body and he feels like has to physically gouge his eyes out to prevent himself from looking.

“Yea, sure.”

He follows you upstairs into the guest room, taking extreme measures to keep his pupils focused on the ceiling lights above your head. However, his efforts work against him because the ceiling lights shine on you like a spotlight, illuminating your gorgeous figure as you make your way up the stairs.

Your fingers wrap around his forearm and you pull him into the room.

You waste no time getting straight to the point.“Jungkook, I think I’m pregnant.”

Jungkook blinks, processing what you just said. “Huh?”

You bite your lip anxiously, crossing your arms while you look down at your toes. “My period is late, and I don’t know what to do- you’re the only person I trust to talk about this.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to confirm the sentiment. “You can trust me with anything. I’ll always take care of you- ‘m just a little shocked because I thought you were still a virgin.”

Gasping dramatically, you pout at him and stomp your foot. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Yea, clearly not, he thinks. “Just act normal. After I drop my mom off at home I’ll come back with a pregnancy test.”

You nod and give him a downward smile. “Thanks- ‘m just really nervous and I hope I’m not pregnant because I don’t even remember who the dad is and-“

Jungkook frowns at that, perturbation morphing onto his features. “Y/N, you don’t remember who the dad is? Please don’t do that- only sleep with people you trust. Please.”

“I trust you.”

The words tumble from your lips immediately, before you can even process your thoughts. You clasp your hand over your mouth, a small gasp leaving your lips as you gaze up at him in pure horror.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to think- doesn’t even know if that was just a fragment of his imagination. He blinks at you, brain too fused to even conjure a proper response.

“Wait- I didn’t mean it like that!” you blurt out. At that moment, you give up on any attempt to salvage the situation and scurry out of the room, stumbling back down the stairs.

Jungkook runs his hands over his face.

He’s going to hell for the thoughts running through his mind.

Thank God you weren’t pregnant but after that night Jungkook just never looked at you as just a family friend. It’s complicated . It’s morally conflicting, and it frustrates Jungkook like nothing else.

“Hello?” he speaks into the phone

“I bled on my bed,” you sniffle into the phone, “Just please come upstairs,” you say before abruptly hanging up.

He begrudgingly rises from his bed. Though tired, he doesn’t hesitate to throw his black t-shirt over his head to look presentable for when he checks up on you. Rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his black sweats as he makes his way up the stairs. He gently opens the door to see you sitting idly under your covers, clinging onto your Snorlax plushie for dear life. You’re wearing

He sits on the edge of your bed. “You ran out of pads?”

You don’t say anything, remaining stiff like an ice sculpture, not melting under Jungkook’s warm touch like you usually do.

He nods at you and gently tugs on your oversized T-shirt, urging you to get up as he sticks out his hand. “Change the sheets and I’ll go out and buy you some pads-“

“Jungkook, I'm in love with you.”

Abrupt.

Impulsive.

Messy.

But you feel like you just have to say it. With a radiant glow on your rosy cheeks, you purse your lips in a demure manner, physically unable to look at him. You have to look at Snorlax to get your words out instead.

You inhale deeply. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry if it creeps you out but I’ve always had feelings for you- and I hate you for it because I don’t think I’ll ever have the capacity to love anyone else like I love you.” With glossy eyes you finally peer at him just to see an entirely indecipherable expression- you’re not sure if it conveys shock, bewilderment, or horror but it evokes the most unsettling and humiliating sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Just as day transforms into night, humiliation morphs into anger, and anger morphs into nonsensicality. Outrage bubbles within you and you chuck the Snorlax plushie at his face.

“Fuck you! How can you treat me the way you do and expect me not to feel anything?! I emotionally cheated on my ex with you! You’re the fucking worst and I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” Your hands frantically search for every single squishmallow, plushie, and teddy bear you have and you violently chuck your beloved squishies at him. From zero to one hundred, you’ve escalated rapidly and you feel like you’ll die if you don’t convey everything to him right now, in this moment.

Jungkook remains stoic, somewhat resembling the statue of a Greek god: handsome and stagnant, not even flinching at the impact of your squishies hitting his built body or the way you nonsensically scream at him.

“This is all your fucking fault Jungkook. You ruined my life! You ruined love for me! I’ll never get a boyfriend, never get married, never have kids because of you! I’m going to die alone and it’ll be all your fucking fault! How could you do that to me? How could you do that to me?” You erupt into sobs, pushing your face into your hands as you violently cry. Snot, tears, and saliva leak from your face as the chagrin completely consumes you.

“Y/N.” The sound of Jungkook’s deep, baritone voice is barely audible over the sounds of your heaving.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He does sound sorry, but you can’t help but question the authenticity of his words because he didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. It’s like he’s merely uttering an apology to appease you.

But for Jungkook, he’ll apologize a million times if it helps dry your tears. He never let his pride get in the way when it comes to you.

He sits at the edge of your bed, using his finger to tilt your chin up, revealing your disheveled, snotty, and glossy face. You whimper when your vision clears and focuses on him.

He wipes your face with your own shirt, tugging up the hem to absorb your tears, still gentle and attentive. You swat his hand away. “You need to stop doing that,” you mewl, blinking more tears from your eyes.

“You need to stop crying. It makes me sad,” he retorts, passing you the same Snorlax plushie you violently launched at him. You cushion the plushie on top of your thighs and bring your knees to your chest. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to settle from your emotional high.

“You don’t even take me seriously,” you mumble, peeking up at him.

“I always take you seriously,” Jungkook responds, “but I want you to stop crying first-

“Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe out, “If you don’t hate me, then kiss me,” you say, your eyes fluttering shut, delusionally- as if he was about to kiss you. Instead, you feel his large palm on your head, softly caressing your hair.

“I’m not gonna kiss you. You should get some rest.” His voice is deep, calm, and composed. How can he be so normal when you’re on the brink of losing your mind?

Your face scrunches up in indignation before you erupt in tears once again, practically screaming. “Fuck you! I hate you! I hate you!”

“Y/N.” He calls your name repeatedly.

“Y/N-”

“Shut the fuck up you asshole!”

“Y/N,” his voice becomes more stern with everytime he calls your name, but you don’t let him get a word in. You keep screaming at him, calling him every name in the book of insults, shaking him off every time he goes near you.

When he attempts to sit by you, you violently push him away. “Go away! I’m not a little kid anymore! I don’t fucking need you anymore! I’m gonna be single forever because of you! If you don’t want me to be single forever then just fucking leave and never come back!”

You’re aware that your words are horrible, but the overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame erupting in your system prevents any rational train of thoughts from developing in your mind. You’re embarrassed and devastated that Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and it sends you spiraling.

He attempts to calm you once more by sitting on your bed, but you push him even more violently. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’m never gonna find love because of you! Just fucking die, just leave forever if-”

He staggers on his feet, caught off balance from the force of your push, and for the first time in his life Jungkook yells at you.

“Y/N!”

Giving you no time to say or think anything, he seats himself on your makeup chair, tattooed hand gripping onto its top rail. “Y/N,” he scowls deeply at you, features blanketed in exasperation, “We’ll talk about this later, but you need to calm the fuck down. You’re hurting me when you talk like that.”

Your eyebrows furrow deeply in horror, your cheeks tear-stained and your eyes filled with sorrow. The haunting realization of what you just said settles into your system. Your quivering lips barely enunciate your words. “Kook, I’m so sorry,” you blubber out. “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t mean it!” You shoot up, stumbling over your own feet and collapsing onto the floor. You’re a mess. Your face glistens with a layer of your own snot, and your hair is matted and tangled, the result of the countless times you tugged at it during this interaction.

Unbeknownst to you, there's a red blotch near the lower hem of your T-shirt, and droplets of blood escape you and drip onto the floor as you stumble out of bed. Jungkook notices though, eyebrows pinching in concern as a very disturbed expression morphs on his face when you collapse to your knees, your trembling hands holding onto him for support. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it! It’s all my fucking fault!”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you sniffle. “I’m so sorry I said that. That was so horrible of me. Please don’t die. I’m so sorry.”

A sigh of vexation leaves his lips, but nonetheless he remains patient, compassionate towards the devastation that consumes your face. “I’m not gonna die.” He cups your face with his tattooed hand, and uses his thumb to wipe the idle tears on your face. “I forgive you. It’s okay.”

“Promise? Promise it’s okay? I’m so sorry,” you cry even more, desperately latching onto his hands, using the side of his fingers to wipe your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he confirms, tilting your head upwards before wiping your face with a makeup wipe from your vanity. “‘M really tired. I’m gonna go get your pads then I’ll be back.

You sniffle. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The smile he gives you is forced, and it makes you feel horrible.

He motions his head towards your bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when I come back.”

You tiredly listen to his words, getting under your covers and holding onto your Snorlax plush. “Good night Kook.”

“Night,” he says, somewhat emotionlessly, flickering the lights off and vacating your room.

Horrible. You wake up with puffy eyes, infinite eye boogers, and an awful pit in your stomach. The memories of last night come flooding in and you immediately check your phone to see if Jungkook texted you. There’s nothing there.

Why would he want to talk to you after what you did?

You decide to send him a text message to further emphasize how sorry you are.

You throw your phone on the bed and scream into the stomach of Snorlax.

Dry. He’s being so fucking dry and it’s all your fault.

The next few weeks are spent with you attempting to redeem yourself.

You have no idea why you’re in front of Jungkook’s work, let alone with a lunchbox cake in hand. Begrudgingly, you stumble inside the tall building, awkwardly smiling when you come face to face with the sweet old security man. Jungkook’s work place is fancy as hell. Every floor of the tower hosts the office of an aristocratic company. There are even enormous, airport-esque x-ray machines stationed towards the entrance. You have to walk through a metal detector to be granted access into the building.

“Why hello, young lady! What business do you have here today?”

“Um, I have a cake for someone. H-he works at HYBE Tech Solutions.”

“Alright, go ahead and put your bag and belongings here,” he says, motioning towards the tray on the X-ray machine conveyor belt. You watch as your belongings pass through the machine and come out on the other end. Then, you step through the metal detector, holding your arms up to be properly inspected. You bid the security man goodbye and walk towards the elevator.

An ominous feeling of stupidity washes over you as you press your fingers onto the elevator buttonsYou feel stupid. You feel dumb. You feel silly. You would never do this for a man, but here you are.

You take a deep breath before you stumble in, coming face to face with the lady that works at the front desk. Your eyes settle on the badge on her blouse. Dorothy. You vaguely remember Jungkook ranting about this woman, venting about how she crossed professional and ethical boundaries- often sneakily creeping her fingers up his chest while they spoke and even going as far as to dig into the company’s database for his personal information.

You clear your throat. “Hi, how’s your day been?”

“I’m great! Thanks for asking, hun. How can I help you today?” She asks, voice bubbly and uplifting, perfect for customer service.

“Oh! Um- I have something for Jungkook. He works in the tech department.”

Her bubbly and friendly atmosphere immediately diminishes, and she raises her eyebrows at you before eyeing you conspicuously. With a vacuous expression, she picks up the landline, pressing her thin fingers into the numbers. “Hey, can you let Jungkook know that there’s a child here for him?”

You purse your lips at that, rocking back and forth on your heels. You try to avoid eye contact with this woman by looking elsewhere- pupils frantically darting to the daisies on the front desk or the grandfather clock that sits idly against the beige walls- but she’s persistently staring you down.

Thank God Jungkook appears from the end of the hallway.

He sports a light blue button up and brown slacks, a stack of papers in his tattooed hand while the other rakes through his short hair. He looks delicious as ever and clearly Dorothy agrees because she practically moans as he walks down the hallway.

“Y/N?” He narrows his eyes in your direction, confirming that it’s really you.

“Um hi Kook. I brought you something.” You use two hands to present the styrofoam box to him.

Jungkook’s eyes scan from the lunchbox to you. He places the stack of papers on the front desk before accepting the box and popping open its lid. “A cake?” he questions, and you nod shyly, fidgeting in place.

“Thanks,” he plainly says, giving you an awkward smile before his eyes dart towards Dorothy, who is intensely scrutinizing the interaction. There is tension in the atmosphere, and Dorothy’s presence isn’t helping.

He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to, you should be studying,” he says, his words a little more light-hearted this time.

You shake your head. “I wanted to do this for you. I’m sorry for last night, Koo.”

He stares at you before letting a sigh escape his lips. “t’s okay Y/N. Told you I‘m not mad. We’ll talk about this later.”

You twiddle with your fingers, your puppy eyes flickering towards him.

“Hug?” he asks, cutting the tension, tilting his head while he holds his arms open. You pout, nodding before running into his arms. He holds you tight, and whispers into the top of your head so Dorothy wouldn’t catch heed of the conversation. “You made me sad last night, you know.”

“‘I’m sorry.”

“‘It's okay. I can never be mad at you for too long,” He subtly releases you from his embrace and pinches your cheek. “Now go home, okay?”

You take a step back and offer a nod. And for some reason, Jungkook feels that you’re looking at him as if you’ll never see him again. “Enjoy your cake.”

Jungkook smiles back, waving you goodbye. You turn to the office lady, who quickly averts her eyes once you notice her blatant eavesdropping. “Thank you auntie. Have a nice day!”

Jungkook has to physically restrain himself from laughing.

A heart emoji. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his most insignificant actions. You hold your phone to your chest and bite back a smile.

Loud music booms and vibrates through the walls of this massive mansion. There’s a huge pool, complete with a waterslide and waterfalls spilling into the pool. You’re surrounded by tons of other like-minded college kids, clad in nothing but a white lace bikini. You’re able to acknowledge that it isn’t the most tasteful outfit, but you feel good and you look good.

After jumping in the pool and violently pelting water balloons at each other (effectively scaring away all the hoes), you and Yunjin lie under a cabana mindlessly scrolling through your phones. You only look up from your phone when you sense Yunjin holding up her phone for a selfie. Jungkook would have rolled his eyes at the sight.

“Can I show you something?” you abruptly blurt out, eliciting a cynical look from your friend. “Is it bad?”

You immediately shake your head, composing your posture so you can properly show Yunjin your texts with Jungkook. Her eyes rapidly scan over the phone in moments and she shoots you a sly glance.

“So do you think?-”

“I don’t know… but I really, really, really hope that it means something. I don’t want him to see me as a little kid anymore, you know?” Bashfully, you smile at her, your demure expression a complete juxtaposition to your practically naked figure.

Yunjin cups your cheeks making your glossy lips pouty. “Y/N! You’re about to pull Jungkook!”

“I am?”

“Yes you are-”

Yunjin flinches dramatically when a harsh stream of water unexpectedly drenches you. You both whip your head to the culprit in question: Beomgyu standing directly in front of you with a massive water gun.

“You bitch!” Yunjin shoots up and runs after him with you rapidly following your partner in crime’s lead. But as you’re running towards Beomgyu (who maniacally screams and dashes), another stream hits you from the back.

The second culprit. Soobin. You sprint towards, latching your claws onto his white T-shirt him while you tug him towards the pool. “Wait Y/N! I just dried off. I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

No mercy for this bitch.

You position yourself behind him, using your whole body to push him into the pool. Splash! You jump and squeal in excitement when he emerges from the water wiping his face with his hands. You laugh hysterically in his face, childishly pointing your finger at him, finding it even more hilarious when he gives you the stink eye. “That’s what you get, asshole!-“

You pause and shriek in horror.

Somebody just pulled on the strings of your bikini top, exposing your boobs to the entire party.

You instinctively crouch, shoving your chest into your knees.The gasp of horror that leaves Soobin’s lips mirrors yours, and he immediately springs into action, rapidly lifting himself from the pool and sprinting after whatever asshole just violated you.

“Y/N!” Your savior, Yeonjun appears in front of you, crouching to your level. He rapidly rids himself of his shirt and pulls it over your entire figure. “You’re good, you’re good,” he whispers calmly to you, trying to prevent you from having a full blown panic attack. You stand up reticently, folding your arms over your chest, eyes trained on the ground and only looking at Yeonjun’s feet to gauge which direction you’re heading in.

“You okay?” Yeonjun settles under the cabana. “That guy is such a dick,” he mutters to himself.

You nod and sink into the cushion of the outdoor-couch. “I’m so fucking embarassed.”

Attempting to salvage the situation, Yeonjun immediately shakes his head. “No, no. Nobody saw anything.” You shoot him a skeptical look, knowing damn well everybody in the party saw your bare boobs.

“Is that Jungkook?”

You immediately whip your head towards the left, and indeed Jungkook is walking your way. You can’t believe he’s real. All heads whip in his direction as he makes his way towards you. He flicks his head back to prevent hair from falling in front of his eyes, barefoot, black T-shirt, and gray shorts. He looks so handsome you can’t even comprehend it.

“Y/N!” He shouts, quicklyducking under the roof of the cabana before he positions himself in front of you. He inhales and exhales deeply, the blistering sun forming particles of sweat on his forehead.

You look up at him and your heart melts. The sheen of sweat on his face, the way his eyes fixate on you. Your heart skips a beat. You want to cry. Again. Out of embarrassment, and how emotional you become at Jungkook’s mere presence.

You bury your head into your knees, making Jungkook's eyebrows pinch. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Yeonjun opens his mouth, hesitatingly glancing at you to confirm if telling Jungkook is okay.

You shoot up and practically catapult yourself onto Jungkook, latching onto him like a Koala. “Nothing happened,” you say, nuzzling your face into his shirt. “Come swim with me. Please.”

Jungkook sighs, using his large palm to tame your frizzy stray hairs. “Y/N. We need to go home.”

You cock your head in confusion.“Wait why?”

His voice becomes oddly stern. “Y/N. It’s important and we have to go home.”

“To your place or mine?”

“My place. Just follow me.”

You haven’t a clue as to why Jungkook is behaving so urgently, but you follow him nonetheless. You pick up your purse and give Yeonjun a quick hug, running after Jungkook who cooly breezes past everyone, not a single person missing the hot guy who suddenly showed to the party.

Jungkook opens his car door for you and allows you to step in.

“Jungkook… is something going on?”

“Yes, there is,” he says grimacing slightly, shutting the door for you before he climbs into the driver’s seat.

This nauseating anxiety bubbles inside you and sends chills up your spine, making you flinch when Jungkook closes the car door on his side. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, just looks behind his shoulder to reverse from his parking spot before zooming out of there.

“Is this because of what happened the other night?” you ask, and he glances at you quickly.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Well.. are we going to talk about it?” you push, twiddling with your fingers.

Jungkook shakes his head, noticing your trembling fingers in his peripheral view. He reaches over and puts his hand on top of yours. “Not now.”

You don’t respond, shifting in confusion.

“Here,” Jungkook starts, throwing his phone in your lap, “You can play whatever song you want.”

You purse your lips and silently nod.

Sooner or later, you arrive at Jungkook’s apartments, and he leads you up the stairs and sits you on his black leather couch.

He cups your face with both hands, caressing the apples of your cheek with his thumbs. With your eyebrows pinched, you peer into Jungkook’s eyes, conveying your confusion through your scrunched facial features.

“Y/N, before I tell you what I want to tell you, I want you to take a few breaths. Just know that I’m always here for you.”

You nod steadily, pretty facial features still crinkled in confusion.

“Y/N, your parents were in a car accident, and they didn’t make it.”

“What?”

And as the haunting realization settles into your system, all you can remember are your shrieks of terror echoing throughout his apartment and the way Jungkook holds you against his body while he wipes your tears and assuages your loud cries.

The few days that proceed are a blur, but Jungkook takes care of you and is far more attentive than he ever has been. You cling onto him like fragile glass ornament hanging from a delicate thread- like he was all you had left because he was all you had left. He was your spring solace after a harsh winter, and the way he treated you indicated as much.

Jungkook works from home so you aren’t alone. For the entire day, you sit on his bed and watch him work. You eavesdrop on his meetings, falling asleep to the sound of his voice and whenever you wake up Jungkook ensures that he feeds you, constantly worried about your inability to eat.

You’re queasy just thinking about going back to your house, so your daily and nightly attire consist of pieces from Jungkook’s wardrobe. You haven’t verbally acknowledged what has happened- not ready to talk about the death of your parents. You’re just trying to survive, and you feel like you’re barely making it.

Thankfully, all your friends and family have been extremely helpful trying to get you through your grief. Jungkook’s mother stays with you for a few days, and after that Yunjin sleeps over with you for a few days- but you know that a piece of your heart has been ruthlessly ripped form you.

“Y/N, you need to take a shower,” Jungkook expresses, obstructing your view of the TV. His toothbrush hangs from his mouth, toothpaste residue bubbling around the perimeter of his lips. You owlishly blink at him, observing how his expression hardens at your look of indifference.

You scoot towards the left end of the couch, hoping to get a clear view of Ever After High projected on his flat screen TV.

“Y/N you haven’t showered in three days,” Jungkook interjects, “Please take a shower.”

“I will. Later.”

He pushes up his glasses, staring at you with intense disapproval. “Y/N,” he says sternly, trying to be gentle despite his qualms.

You acquiesce, pouting at him. “Okay, fine. Later.”

His frown deepens. “Y/N.”

You chew on your bottom lip, deeply contemplating what Jungkook has asked of you. His large frame remains frozen in front of you. No matter how you position yourself on the couch, he renders you unable to watch the princesses prance around on the TV.

“Okay… but will you at least come with me? I don’t want to be without you.”

Jungkook pauses.

“I don’t mean like getting in with me, but will you just sit on the toilet and talk to me?” You ask, sinking into the leather of his sofa and using your sweater paws to sweep your hair back.

“Yea, I’ll do that.”

Once you step in the shower, you close the curtains, and strip yourself from your clothes, handing the pile of clothes to Jungkook. You turn on the water, yelping at the sensation on your body. Jungkook was right. You needed this and you kind of do smell like butthole.

“Wait Y/N, do you want me to go to your house and get you underwear?”

After folding up your (his) T-shirt and boxers, he notices that you haven’t been wearing any undergarments.

“No!” you call back, “I don’t want you to go there! Not yet,” you call back.

“Then do you want me to buy you some?” he responds, placing the folded clothes on the bathroom counter.

“Um, maybe we can order some on Amazon.”

“Just send me the link and I’ll place the order.”

“Okay.”

A wave of silence washes over the bathroom, and you peek your head from the shower curtain to see what Jungkook’s up to: scrolling on Instagram. On his screen is some instagram model’s bikini pic, his fingers pausing on the screen so he can look at the photo.

“Who is that?” you ask, making Jungkook jump in his seat.

“What the- Y/N, just take your shower!” Jungkook feigns annoyance but can’t help himself but scoff in amusement at how petty you can be.

“Is she prettier than me?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook with disapproval.

Jungkook purses his lips and tugs the shower curtain past your face and holds it against the wall, preventing you from peeking your pretty head past the curtain. He holds it there for a good minute, unfazed by the thrashing against the shower curtain.

Swish.

You swipe open the shower curtain from the other side. Your eyes bore into Jungkook’s and Jungkook thinks you’re foolish not to realize how alluring and sultry you are. Your bare body is akin to a sculpture of the goddess Aphrodite. Water drips from the crevices of your body and you gaze at him with anticipation etched onto your face. You’re just standing there, but your posture is so seductive- or maybe it’s just the natural curvature of your body.

“Why don’t you join me?” your sweet voice makes his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

When he doesn’t respond, your features morph into humiliation, regret consuming you. You nod your head. “Sorry Kook, I’ll just-”

“Y/N, you’re gorgeous. Any man can see how lovely you are. Honestly, you take my breath away every time I see you,” Sensing the trepidation on your face, he solidifies his claim, “I mean it Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I want to join you but I’m not going to. You’re hurting right now and I don’t want to do anything to take advantage of you.”

And he isn’t lying, he yearns for every kind of contact with you, but he’s not going to go through with this. Not when you’re traumatized from the death of your parents. Not when you’ve been so unhinged for the past week, refusing to even shower.

You stare at him for a second, dazy eyed and your eyes darting around the room. “Okay Jungkook. I’m sorry.”

He smiles sweetly at you and gently closes the shower curtain. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m gonna head to my room. You’re welcome to come visit me anytime.”

Boys’ night. Jungkook being the handsome stud he is, happens to have friends that are also handsome studs. Jungkook offered to postpone boys’ night but you declined his attempts to make you more comfortable. Jungkook has exerted so much effort to take care of you. There’s no reason for him to forgo time with his best friends. Besides, you can always hide in your room.

You crack your door open slightly ajar, peeking through the crack to spy on Jungkook and his friends. Antisocial is the perfect word to describe you.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was your cue to lock yourself in your room. Jungkook knocked a few times, but you were too scared of other people that you didn’t even grace him with a response.

Clearly Jungkook got the message because he opted to leave a greasy piece of pizza outside your door, sending you a quick text message about it.

You just wanted to scout the scene, see who was there. Mingyu, Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon. Soju bottles are scattered around the table, and there’s some music blaring from the TV. You’ve met everyone here a few times- they all know you, but you aren’t close with Jungkook’s friends like he is with your friends.

“Oh Y/N! Come join us!” You freeze at Mingyu’s words, and all eyes in the room whip towards your direction.

“Umm..” you close the door gently and leap into the safety of your bed.

You overhear their banter through the wooden door. “Hey! Why are you making little kids uncomfortable!” Jimin yells, slapping Mingyu on the neck.

Your lip quivers, and you inhale deeply, gathering the courage to step outside of the room. You quickly put on deodorant, and step out stealthily, taking a seat next to Namjoon on the couch. No one seems to notice you, and you tap on his shoulder. Namjoon whips his head towards you, the confusion on his face melting into fondness.

“Hi,” you squeak out, fiddling with your fingers.

“Hi Y/N,” Namjoon greets, the kindness laced in his voice assuaging the trepidation bubbling on your inside. Jungkook’s red lava lamp illuminates the room with shades of crimson, and your eyes flutter shut when a ray of light shines on your face.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon inquires, holding his hand up to shield you from the light.

“Yea, I’m fine,” you blink a few times. You don’t say anything, just awkwardly take a bite of your pizza while your eyes dart around the room.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to know what to say to you either, so the two of you just sit and eat pizza in silence. For a moment, your eyes lock. You owlishly blink at him and he blinks at you for a good minute.

But then, to your surprise, Namjoon sets his pizza down, opening his arms. Your features scrunch up, and you let yourself melt into his warm embrace, glossy tears rolling down your face.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he expresses, gently caressing the back of your head with his palm. You sniffle. “t’s okay,” you sob, “but I’m so sad. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You’ll get through this. We’re always here for you.”

His words invoke a tornado of intense feelings in your system, and your strong facade crumbles as you become vulnerable in Jungkook’s friend’s embrace. By this point, everyone has noticed your presence, and suddenly the night becomes about you.

After wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you find yourself sitting in between Jungkook and Namjoon in a “friendship circle”. It’s quite cute that these grown men still sit criss-cross applesauce in a circle, but you’re overjoyed that you’re welcome to the group.

“I brought you a cake Y/N,” Taehyung announces, handing you a lunchbox cake. With your doe eye, you look towards him before opening the lid of the cake. A lunchbox cake with Snorlax’s face iced on the top. “Jungkook mentioned that you really liked Pokemon, so I thought you’d find this cute,” he continues, slightly trailing off. You’re Strong! Is what it reads, and you fall into pieces, your features crumpling up before you burst into tears.

Jungkook laughs in fondness at the vulnerability of your reaction, wrapping a single arm around your frame.

“Th-thank you,” you sniffle, offering Taehyung a crooked smile. “Can we eat it together? I don’t want to get f-fat.”

At that, a chorus of no’s echo through the room, and you giggle a bit.

Your heart is incredibly full. Family. Friends. People who care about you. This is something your soul desires, something your soul needs.

The night meets its unfortunate end, and you stand in front of Jungkook as you bid his friends goodbye. Before the boys walk away, you find your fingers clinging onto the hem of Jimin’s oversized shirt. Before he ventures off, he turns around and graces you with an endearing look of confusion. “What’s up?”

“Can I come with you?” you spout.

“You want to sleep over at our place?” Jimin questions, gingerly scratching the back of his head.

You shake your head steadily, “I just want to talk to you,” you clarify, gazing up at him shyly. Jimin’s eyes dart towards Jungkook’s for approval and Jungkook nods his head. “Go ahead. I’ll give you guys privacy,” he pinches your cheek affectionately before closing the door. You stand on your tiptoes, peeking through the window of the apartment to ensure that Jungkook isn’t eavesdropping.

Jimin leans against the railings, observing you carefully.

You tug on the hem of Jimin’s tee, urging him to follow you to the lobby of Jungkook’s apartment. He follows in your stead, not questioning you until your actions pause. You shift around uncomfortably for a bit, and you look up at him. Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to ask him the question that’s been lingering in the back of your mind.

“Do you think Jungkook and I could ever.. be a thing?” you finally question, shifting your weight between your feet, a crimson sheen sweeping over your cheeks.

Jimin’s eyebrows pinch, and he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth, looking for the right words to say. “Like romantically?”

Your eyes cumbersomely drift towards the painting behind Jimin. “Y-yea. I really like him, and I want him to be my boyfriend- and I know he’s attracted to me but won’t act on his feelings because of his ethical qualms,” you stutter out, pursing your lips after seeing how Jimin’s face morphs into astonishment.

“Well, I don’t think Jungkook is seeing anyone right now- but Y/N, if I’m going to be totally honest, I don’t think you and Jungkook being a romantic pair would be appropriate. I mean, he’s known you since you were a kid. Even if he does like you, I don’t think he would cross those boundaries.” he very gently explains, meticulously finding the correct wording to not hurt your feelings.

You bite your lip bitterly, sinking into the realization of his assertion. “Yea, you’re right. I don’t know. I guess it’s just a stupid crush,” you dismiss your confession with a wave and offer Jimin a shy smile.

Jimin pouts at your invalidation of your own feelings. “Don’t say that. I know you’ll find someone who cherishes and loves you. Someone you deserve,” he asserts. You smile at him, nodding before he ruffles your hair and leads you back up the stairs.

Someone you love.

Would you ever find it in yourself to love anybody that wasn’t him? Jungkook has successfully monopolized your heart, your soul, your very being.

Ping!

Tonguing his cheek, Jungkook impatiently and abruptly brakes at a red light, accelerating rapidly when the light turns green. He changes from his casual clothes to a black sleeveless shirt, loose leather pants, and a beanie. Mingyu sits on the passenger seat, frantically typing on his laptop as Jungkook zooms down the highway at record pace.

Breaking into a frat house to terrorize some dumb college kids definitely wasn’t a part of the plan tonight, but Jungkook was down for some last minute terrorism.

“So what are you gonna do? Threaten the kid? Call the cops?”Taehyung questions from the backseat, both hands gripping on the headrest of Mingyu and Jungkook’s seats.

“Look, I’m really trying to not sound corny, but I’m going to torture him,” Jungkook enunciates, which evokes a few seconds of silence.

“This bitch-”

“He’s lost his fucking mind,” Mingyu mumbles.

Jungkook laughs to himself, amused by the comments of his friends. Jungkook is an intelligent, rational person. Normally, he wouldn’t take it this far but he deems it extremely necessary for this particular situation.

“What the- now he’s creepily laughing to himself-”

“If we tell Y/N about this she’s going to be scared of you,” Mingyu abruptly comments, shooting Jungkook a pointed look.

Jungkook pauses, seemingly deeply considering the utterance of his friend, toying with his lip ring for a while he finally makes a comment. “I won’t do anything bad. I’ll just intimidate him a little.”

His friends sigh, not pressing further on the matter because Mingyu and Taehyung were pissed off too. Instead, Mingyu rolls down the windows of the car, allowing the breeze of the cool night to consume the interior of the car.

Jungkook considers this very night a milestone in your healing process. You isolated yourself in his apartment for two consecutive weeks, your grief severely limiting your social capacity and ability to normally interact with people. His friends were privy to your situation, purposely not coming to Jungkook’s home out of respect for you. But tonight, the color that reappeared in your aura overwhelmed his heart with joy.

While you were on the couch, talking to Namjoon about something, Jungkook got an alarming text from one of your friends- Yeonjun. Jungkook is cool with your friends, but not close enough to be sending private text messages, so his eyes brows pinch in concern when he sees the notification pop up from his phone.

Mingyu’s eyes drifted towards Jungkook, who was noticeably brimming with indignation. Jungkook scoffed to himself, a macabre smirk on his lips before he laughed erratically at the message. He repeatedly wiped his face with his hand, chuckling in amusement. Jungkook discreetly passed his phone to Mingyu without a word, with Taehyung looking over his shoulder, both of them gasping at the message.

This whole time, you were oblivious to the scheme Jungkook was contriving and Jungkook intended to keep it that way. You were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and Jungkook would cut his limbs off to lessen that burden. The indignation and resentment bubbling within him threatens to erupt because he’s so fucking pissed off.

You’re everything to him, and the thought of you being violated makes him want to indulge in his violent impulses. He can’t imagine how you would feel knowing that video spread around, and usually he would confide with you about these things but right now he needs to sweep this under the rug and make sure it never comes back up.

Luckily, he and Mingyu both have degrees in computer engineering and know how to hack into technical infrastructures.

Jungkook pulls up to the frat house, rolling the window down steadily before he rests his elbow on the ledge of the window. He sits there for a second, toying with his lip ring while his eyes bore into the interior of the house. He’s sure he looks creepy as hell- just staring into the house.

After a few minutes of waiting in silence, some guy arises from the house and approaches the car.

Jungkook keeps his lips sealed until he’s close enough to perceive his features.

“Uh is there something yall need?” the guy asks, innocently scratching the back of his head.

“Yea,” Jungkook responds, voice firm and somewhat chilling, “Your name Josh?”

“Yea? What’s up-”

Jungkook kicks the door open, knocking Josh over until he’s rolled on the floor, clutching his leg as he shrieks in pain.

“Oh shit, are we really doing this?” Taehyung mutters before joining Jungkook outside the car.

Jungkook sits on top of Josh, continuously punching the shit out of him before he spits on the kid’s face. He uses a single hand to lift him by the collar, and violently pushes him against the car. “You mad Y/N rejected you? So you pulled that shit?” Jungkook menaces, his face centimeters away from Josh’s.

Josh whimpers, crying- too horrified to coherently respond. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he pleads, tears and snot streaming down his ugly face.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook repeatedly bangs Josh against the car. “I’m gonna say this shit once and I’m not going to repeat myself,” he seethes, satisfied by the way Josh whimpers and nods his head pathetically.

“You’re not shit. You’ll never ever be good enough for Y/N. You’re the same as the shit on the bottom of my shoe,” he breathes against Josh’s face, who whimpers and cries, “If I ever see you messing with Y/N ever again- I will ruin your whole life.”

Josh nods, unable to do anything else.

“Got it?” Jungkook seethes, pushing Josh’s head against the car door.

“Got it!”

“Good. We’re going inside, and you guys are going to watch us go through all of your iClouds, and we’re going to delete every single copy of the video there is, alright?”

“Yes! Yes! That’s fine! I’m sorry!”

Jungkook scoffs in amusement at his despicable demeanor, before he throws Josh on the ground and enters the house.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Mingyu mumbles, following Jungkook’s lead into the house.

You anxiously wait for Jungkook to return home, absentmindedly toying with the Switch to distract from the hysterical thoughts frantically racing through your mind. You’ve done everything you could to distract yourself, your restless heart aching to do something of substance.

You’ve been isolating yourself from society for the past month simply because you can’t bring yourself to leave Jungkook’s home, as if it was your safe haven.

You dread the moment you have to return to your home, memories of your family coming to mind. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about everything, and you reckon that it’s time to process everything. There are aspects of grief that you find unfathomable- questions you have that make you want to throw up.

What will happen to the home that holds the memories of your family within its walls? How will you assimilate back into society without your father, without your mother? You’re not confident that it will ever be the same, and your heart sinks into your stomach at the notion- but you have to be resilient; you have to face it.

It feels worse to avoid the reality of your life than to face it head on.

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorknob turning.

“Jungkook!” The way you call his name is breathless, and his eyebrows pinch in concern when you pounce on him. Nonetheless, he allows you to nuzzle into his embrace and he soothingly rubs your back- like he always does.

“Wasn’t gone that long,” Jungkook absentmindedly comments.

“I know- just missed you. I’m sorry for being clingy,” you murmur, to which Jungkook shakes his head at the absurdity of your words.

“Not at all. Stay here for as long as you want. I’ll take you with me wherever I go,” he adds, settling into the leather of his sofa. You shuffle after him like a cute little penguin, sitting your ass directly next to Jungkook despite the vacant empty space on your right side.

“Then am I allowed to sit next to you?”

Jungkook’s features crinkle up in amusement, nose scrunching as he laughs lightly at how cute you are. He pinches your cheek, “It’s one thousand dollars for every minute you’re within a five foot radius of me,” he comments, tone stoic and firm.

He doesn’t have to look in your direction to visualize the way your pretty lips fall open, swatting at his bicep for his cruel words. “Jungkook, I don’t have that money! You know I only have 35 cents in my bank account!”

“Okay, then go sit over there,” Your eyes follow the trail of his pointed finger, the corner of the room.

“Fine! You fucking asshole,” you mutter bitterly, jumping up from the couch and stomping away with a hmph, until Jungkook slyly wraps his hand around the circumference of your wrist and pulls you to him. You collapse onto the couch, your back against his chest, and your butt between his legs.

He clings onto you, almost suffocating you with the way he wraps his arms around you, grabbing his elbows as he locks his arms over your head. “‘M just kidding- you know that. I can’t survive without my baby either, y’know?”

Your chest erupts with butterflies, and you hold onto his forearm with both of your hands. “I know.”

The next day, you return to school. Your professors were so empathetic and understanding to the nuance and confusion of your situation, allowing you to complete your coursework from the comfort of Jungkook’s home.

Grief isn’t a linear process. Though you’ve found it in you to return to school, it’s the mundane and the typical that you’re becoming increasingly bothered by.

No one in your Philosophy class is paying attention to this movie, clearly. You can tell by the lit up screens scattered within the clusters of students, and you aren’t diligent enough to not be one of those students, doodling flowers and Snorlax’s on your paper.

For the second you do look up at the movie, your heart stops. It’s always the most mundane, irrelevant details that get to you. The scene barely occupies a minute and it makes your chest tighten in the worst way possible.

The main character walks down the wedding aisle, her arm linked with her father’s. The haunting realization settles in your system- you will never ever experience that. You begin hyperventilating, your hand crumpling the paper, and you quickly rest your forearms on the table before shoving your face into your forearms. People are already looking at you and you can’t fathom the humiliation so you stay like that until class is dismissed.

You finally lift your head, rubbing your eyes to adjust the blinding ceiling lights.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You shriek at the unexpected voice and whip your head to the left.

“Hey hey hey- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he breathes out, rolling his chair towards you before rolling back so as to not scare you further.

“No no, you’re good,” you breathe out, inhaling and exhaling to bring you down from your petrified high. “Just having a shitty day,” you explain, sweeping away the hair dried to your face by your tears.

He seems to be unable to conjure a proper response, peering at you with an empty gaze and you sink in your seat, feeling the need to further explain yourself. “Well there was that part in the movie where Emma got married, and that made me feel horrible because I recently lost my dad.. And my mom.”

“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he articulates, “I just noticed you haven’t been in class for a while and was kinda worried when I saw you crying. I’m sorry if I pushed your boundaries.”

“You know me?”

His lips tug up in embarrassment as he gingerly scratches the back of his neck. “Well we usually sit next to each other so I thought we formed an acquaintanceship or something,” he mumbles.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you pout at him, “I usually tap out during class so I never noticed you. What’s your name by the way?” You shyly stick out your hand, and he gives you a straight lined smile before shaking your hand gently.

“Sunghoon. I-I’m really sorry for your loss by the way,” he adds, and you find his nervousness quite endearing. You shyly smile at him, and he gazes back at you with similar amity. He ever so softly pulls your wrist towards his and scribbles his number onto your forearm. “Feel free to text me if you ever need help with homework. You missed a lot of school,” he offers, and you find yourself giggling at his forth forwardness.

“Thanks Sunghoon."

When Jungkook returns from work that night, the first thing he’s met with is you shoving your boots on, seemingly ready for a vivacious night out. Your figure is adorned with a white satin slip on dress, and your hair is put up in an elegant updo. Jungkook pauses, eyes settling on your figure before scanning up to your face; he thinks this is the first time he’s seen you with makeup on since he wiped away the mascara running down your cheeks the day he broke the news.

“Hey daddy,” you purr, “Where have you been? The kids have been waiting for you,” you giggle, sliding your mini purse down your arm.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at you, humorously scoffing at your corny choice of words.

You giggle, skipping towards him before jumping onto him, latching around his neck before you whisper in his ear. “‘m going out with my friends, don’t wait for me to get home because I might stay the night with Yunjin.”

Jungkook stiffens, remaining frozen while you back up from him.

“So, do I look like an angel, or what?”

“Always look cute,” because despite the infesting irritation bubbling in his system, he would never not tell you how it is. You are cute, always cute, always like an angel.

“Thanks,” you giggle, skipping towards the door but before you can skip past him, he latches onto your wrist. “Wait.”

You tilt your head, slightly confused. “I bought something for you.”

He digs in his backpack and pulls it out. Nipple pasties. “You never wear a bra, so I thought you’d be safer if you put these on before you go out.”

“You were the one who said I had small tits!”

“Okay, well you still have nipples- so at least put these on to keep you safe.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but he doesn’t back down. You snatch the pasties from his hand and march into the bathroom. “Fine!”

Jungkook lounges on the couch, eyes trained on you before you bid him goodbye and skip out of his apartment. He inhales deeply to settle the erratic palpitations in his chest. He needs to stop being so protective of you.

Your arms linked with Yunjin, you skip around from one club to the next, dancing and partying your little hearts out. When the night comes to a close you prance to the local ramen shop around your campus. From a distance, you can already make out Jungkook casually speaking with his friends. He’s always so animated when he’s with his friends, dramatically gesturing and hip thrusting in the air while his friends laugh at his immature jokes. He’s got a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger, taking slow puffs, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before he tilts his head to exhale a long plume of smoke into the atmosphere.

That’s right. Jungkook smokes occasionally but never lets you do it. What a hypocrite.

His eyes drift off for a second until they land on you, and his lips curl up in your presence.

“Well look, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” he teases, letting out low laughter at the way you crimson when all his friends’ heads whip in your direction.

You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a dirty look that Jungkook cooes at. Even when you were trying to intimidate him you akin to a cute Snorlax, so adorable, eyebrows pinched and lips pouted- how could he feel anything but adoration at that?

“Aw angel,” he jests, throwing your words right back at you, “Don’t ignore me, ‘m sorry for teasing you,” he catches you as you walk past him, pulling you towards his chest before resting his chin on top of your head.

He casually smiles at Yunjin. “How’s my angel been doing? Has she been behaving?”

Yunjin’s jaw drops at the bold statement and you attempt to wrestle out of his firm embrace to berate him.

Just kidding. It’s getting late, though. Do you girls need a ride home?” he asks, finally letting you go just for you to stumble out of his grip and almost land on your face, but luckily Jungkook pulls your shoulders back without even looking in your direction.

“Jungkook, it’s literally 10,” you deadpan.

“Oh c’mon, I don’t want you girls to get kidnapped or something,” he snarkily responds.

“How about you give us some money instead?” Yunjin jests, clearly joking, but Jungkook takes it so, so seriously. He raises a brow at both of you. “How much do you need?”

“Wait no- I was kidding,” Yunjin quickly clarifies, her ears becoming slightly red, “you don’t have to..”

Jungkook looks from you to her, then back at you before whipping out his phone, taking another puff of his cigarette before blowing the smoke upwards, careful so you don’t inhale any smoke.

Ping!

Your eyebrows pinch in confusion when you get a notification, and you unzip your mini purse to grab your phone, allowing the screenlight to illuminate your pretty features.

JEON JUNGKOOK HAS TRANSFERRED YOU 500 DOLLARS VIA HYBETRANSFER.

“250 each, alright?” Jungkook laughs, taking another puff of his cigarette before he saunters off, his friends pushing him around and teasing him.

“Ayo, when did Jeon turn into a sugar daddy?”

You and Yunjin are left dumbfounded, even more so when Jungkook turns around and makes kissy lips at you.

You fall to your knees.

The next morning is the weekend.

You absentmindedly chomp on your cereal, eyes still crusty and mind still hazy from the morning daze. Jungkook arises from his bedroom, hair still messy and sticking out in various directions- but he still looks as handsome as ever, the tired and morning glow suiting him wondrously.

“So, I’m planning a trip with my friends at the beach. We’ll stay in an AirBnb. You wanna come with?”

You pause, features crinkling up in confusion. “Which friends? The ones from last night or Mingyu and them?”

“Mingyu, Tae, Jimin, Namjoon,” he counts off, before shrugging, “I already planned to take you with me so it’s not like you have a choice anyways.”

You scoff to yourself in amusement. “Aren’t you being too forceful?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes and graces you with a look of skepticism. “So you don’t want to go? or..”

“No!” you rapidly interject as you shoot up, clearing your throat and regaining your composure at the way Jungkook smirks at you.

You settle back into your seat. “I do want to go,” you exhale, “but do I have to pay for my own room or something? I’m broke.”

“Oh, I was just gonna have you stay in my room,” Jungkook responds, trailing off as he tries to detect any trace of apprehension on your features, “Is that alright with you?”

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you breathlessly exhale. ��That’s perfect.”

So that’s how you found yourself at the beach, in nothing but your black bikini, prancing around the waves with Taehyung.

“Jungkook watch!” you call as you swivel around towards Jungkook, who’s applying sunscreen to his legs, not really paying attention to what you were doing.

You stand in front of the upcoming wave, holding your arms out as if you were going to embrace the wave. “I’m going to stand against the wave!”

At that, Jungkook whips his head upwards, eyebrows pinching in worry as he shoots up. “Tae! Get her! She’s gonna get swept in by-“

And on cue, the wave collapses over you and you tumble into the unwelcoming water. “Motherfuck-“ You thrash and scream, powerless against the unforgiving currents until a pair strong arms pull you from your armpits and drags you to the sand.

“Holy shit Y/N, are you alright?” Taehyung asks, crouching beside you as he pats your back, allowing you to cough the water up.

“Y/N that was so dumb,” you hear Jungkook’s voice as he approaches you, crouching beside you as he hands you his black steel water bottle. “Take a sip,” he urges, and you nod shakily, grasping the bottle with both hands before you take a sip from it.

“I’m okay. Thanks for saving me Taehyung,” you smile at him and he releases a sigh of relief. “You scared the shit out of us!”

You gulp down the water and close the cap, returning his bottle to him. “Sorry, I won’t do that again, but can we get back to playing now?” you smile as you playfully fling a ball of wet sand at Jungkook.

Jungkook closes his eyes on impact, scoffing in amusement before he grabs you by your legs, signalling Taehyung to grab your arms before they both lift you and run into the ocean.

Jungkook waits outside your shared room, knuckles softly knocking on the wooden door. A towel loosely wrapped around his lower waist, water drips from every crevice on his body, but he can’t enter until you’re done changing.

“Oki! I’m done!” you call out, opening the door for him, a towel in your hand as you use it to scrunch up your damp hair.

“Wow. You’re really muscular,” you giggle, fingers hovering over his abs before you look up at him for approval to feel, to which he gently pushes your head aside and waltzes into the room.

When he’s done changing he beckons you back to the room, and you plop in the king sized bed, belly down and legs swinging back and forth in the air.

Jungkook lies down beside you, resting his head on the pillow as he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, only looking over when he hears your ringtone go off.

You answer the call almost immediately.

“Oh hey Sunghoon!” you greet, shooting up from the bed to touch up your appearance in the facetime camera.

Sunghoon. Jungkook knows all your friends and he hasn’t heard that name before.

“Hey Y/N, how’s your vacation going?” Sunghoon asks, and you take a seat at the desk, propping your phone up against the wall. You twirl an idle piece of hair around your fingers. “It’s really fun here, I feel great,” you explain, “so what’s up?”

“You look like you’re having fun- wait, is there someone in the room with you?”

You rapidly turn around and look at Jungkook, then tilt your phone at an angle where he isn’t visible. “Oh, he’s just a family friend, do you want me to go somewhere more private?”

“Oh no that’s cool, I was just wondering but I called to ask you about the homework…”

A family friend? Jungkook scowls at that. Wordlessly, he breezes past you and exits the room, closing the door and sits next to Jimin on the couch.

Jimin takes a few moments to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence. “Hey, is there anything going on between you and Y/N?” Jimin finally asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern when he perceives Jungkook’s sour face.

Jungkook pauses. “Why are you asking?”

Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know. Don’t you know she has a crush on you? Isn’t it inappropriate for you two to be sharing a room?” Jimin continues, nudging Jungkook with his elbow.

At that, Jungkook buries his face into his palms. He’s let this go on for far too long. “I know,” Jungkook murmurs, voice projection muffled by his hands.

“You know? The other day she asked me if it was possible between you two and I straight up told her that you wouldn’t go for it.”

Jungkook remains wordless at that, and he thinks he’s developed an idea of the reality of the situation.

Jungkook was too scared to address the subject with you; he let it linger for far too long. He didn’t want to burden you with anything else besides what you already had on your plate, and you got in your head about it. He never explicitly stated that he more than reciprocates your feelings, leaving you dangling on a string.

He’s going to fix that.

“No Jimin, that’s not it,” Jungkook clarifies, wiping his face with his palms. “I like her too, and I’m going to tell her tonight,” he states firmly, slightly craning his head to gauge Jimin’s reaction. His reaction isn’t what Jungkook expected. Instead of a look of concern, worry, or horror, Jimin looks over the moon.

“Well shit! I wish I knew that before! You guys look perfect together!” he exclaims before eagerly patting Jungkook on the back.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at his friend. “Really? Don't you think I should wait a little longer? Until she's ready?”, to which Jimin simply shakes his head.

“Y/N's an adult. She can handle herself. I thought you wouldn't go for it because of the age gap, though. I guess I shouldn't have told her that," he says gingerly, scratching the back of his head. ”Sorry Kook."

Jungkook doesn't say anything, seemingly in deep contemplation. "It used to bother me,” Jungkook clarifies, "but it doesn't anymore."

“So what’s wrong with it?"

That’s right. There is nothing wrong with it.

A cool night on the beach. You feel the cool breeze through your air, the lunar radiance of the moon illuminating the beach. You’re adorned in a lovely, summer-esque two piece set with floral patterns running along the fabric, The top piece is cropped and strapless, exposing your collar bones and belly button piercing, and the bottom piece is a long, flowy skirt that blows marvelously against the wind.

You gingerly step outside the beach house, enjoying the cool sensation of the night breeze. The guys are all hanging out in the yard, soju bottles and beer cans scattered on the wooden benches positioned on the beach. Namjoon and Jimin are posted up on the benches, chowing down on meat whilst engaging in pretty animated conversation. You spot Mingyu and Taehyung running around the beach, slapping each other and chasing after each other, their dirty heels slipping against the coarse sand.

Jungkook is stationed at the grill, frying meat for his friends. His tall and built figure is concealed by his loose black T-shirt and black sweat shorts that you have worn a few times during your extended stay at his place.

You creep up behind him, swiping away the stray hairs that the wind blew into your face. Tapping him lightly on the back, you coyly skmile at him, a bashful glow illuminating your face.

Jungkook sensed your presence the moment stepped foot from the house, but still acts like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. He does a double take, eyes scanning up and down your face and body- you look so lovely and elegant in your little two piece set. “Hey,” Jungkook finally returns your greeting, a little breathless.

“Can I have some?” you ask, pointing to the grill.

“Uh yea, I actually made a plate for you a second ago,” Jungkook takes the prepared plate of your favorite meats, but pauses before he hands it to you. He hasn’t a clue if you’re doing this on purpose, but you’re looking at him with the sultriest of eyes, and it drives him crazy. His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat, and he collects himself before handing you the plate.

You tilt your head, sending him a look of confusion at his hesitance, but Jungkook sees it as a gateway to talk to you. “Y/N, can we talk? Like now?” Jungkook asks, rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“Sure, what about?” you solicit, setting the plate on the table.

Jungkook immediately shoves his hands in his pockets, and motions his head towards the beach, obliging you to follow him. “About what you told me at your house..” he trails off, “that one time in the middle of the night,” he adds.

He perceives the way your features morph into embarrassment, so he decides to take the lead on this conversation. He approaches you, standing beside you momentarily before smoothly lacing his fingers through yours. “Let’s go.”

Unable to conjure a proper response, you follow his footsteps in silence until your bodies appear as distant figures by the ocean. With your toes kissing the water washing up on shore, he turns back to look at you, fingers still intertwined. But you stop him before he can open his mouth.

“Wait- Jungkook. Let me explain myself first,” you begin, thankful that the night sky conceals the obvious bashful glow on your cheeks.

Jungkook who is seemingly expressionless nods his head, signaling you to let your words out.

You gently pull your hand from his, twiddling with your fingers before you can speak. “Firstly, I just wanna apologize.. to you,” you begin, ignoring the way his nose scrunches in confusion, “I feel like you’ve been so good to me- you always take care of me. Your family is the only family I have left,” you continue, bashfully tucking an idle strand of hair behind your ear.

“So I’m sorry for forcing myself on you, and I’m sorry for mistaking your care towards me as romantic affection,” you continue, subconsciously gesticulating with your hands. “I know you said you don’t like it when girls are clingy but I’ve been nothing but clingy, and you still take care of me and care about me.” Your words are passionate, and they’re true. “Everyone told me that a relationship with you would be inappropriate.. but I was too persistent and too selfish. I’m so sorry Kook. You must’ve been so shocked when I yelled at you and when I.. opened that shower curtain,” you finish, shaking your head in embarrassment.

When you finally complete the sentiment, you tilt your head upwards to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows pinch in confusion, and his mouth is slightly agape. “What?” he asks breathlessly, eyebrows pinching even further. He runs a tired hand over his face. “Y/N- just- I can’t believe you said that. Y/N, I love you. And I don’t care if you’re clingy, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks of us.”

You gasp at his words, a profound sense of emotion absolutely overwhelming you.

“What I care about is what you think of me, and whether you’re happy,” His fingers find yours, and he holds your hand and looks right into your eyes to properly convey his sincerity. “Y/N, I’m so sorry for not telling you sooner. You were just going through so much shit and I didn’t know if you were in the right headspace or if you were even serious about how you felt for me-”

He stops when you yank your hands away from him, using the back of your hands to wipe the tears streaming down your face. The shapes of his eyes turn into little crescents, petrified at your reactions. He removes your hands from your face, holding your wrists.

“Y/N, don’t cry. Please say something.”

“Jungkook, it’s too late. I-I don’t think I can do this- with you- I mean,” is all you’re able to say and Jungkook’s chest tightens impossibly.

His heart drops to your stomach, a crestfallen expression morphing onto his handsome features. “I-is that how you really feel?”

Another tear streams down your face and Jungkook itches to wipe it but suppresses that urge.

“I love you Jungkook. I do. I really do!” you cry out, “But I can’t date you, ever. I never want to lose you,” you sob between sniffles. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m sure of it!”

The situation is bitterly ironic. Jungkook spent months tiptoeing around his feelings, your feelings, because he wanted to ensure he was what you wanted. Even when you blatantly threw yourself at him, he made the conscious decision to not pursue you. He spent months deciding your feelings for you- and now you’re telling him you don’t want him and he can’t do anything but accept it.

“Y/N, you’ll never lose me. I’ll always be here. Even if you change your mind.. I’ll always be here.”

“Jungkook, I lost my whole family. You’re all I have left,” you explain, trailing off a little bit, “If I lose you then I have nobody.”

“No, I swear- Y/N, you’re it for me, and I mean it.”

You sniffle, wiping your cheeks, eyes, and nose once more. “What- hiccup- does that mean?”

“It means… whatever you want it to mean,” he concludes.

“Jungkook…” you trail off, “Don’t wait for me. If you find a girl you like, then you should go for her. All I want is for you to be happy. It’s what you deserve,” you offer him a soft smile, a direct juxtaposition to your tear stained cheeks.

His chest tightens at that and he shakes his head. “You’ll always be my priority. Me? I’ve dated enough girls, I can be single for the rest of my life.”

You immediately swat his chest at the sentiment. “No, Jungkook. You should be with someone who takes care of you, not someone you have to take care of all the time. I’ll just always be your family friend who had a stupid crush on you in college.” Your attempt to lighten the atmosphere is futile and makes Jungkook’s scowl deepen.

“You’re more than that to me. You’ll always be.” His hand latches onto yours, and you pull yourself from him.

“No Jungkook.. I’ve made up my mind. I really don’t think we could ever…” When your voice breaks and more tears accumulate in your waterline, Jungkook stops you, not wanting to cause you any more pain.

“I got it, Y/N. But just know I’ll always be here… in any way you’ll take me.”

READ PART 2 HERE

taglist: @babycandy111 @jk97bam @bellagrayson-wayne @honeeybunneey (can't be tagged), @talyaaas-blog , @jjeonjjk7 , @lovingkoalaface , @rvck0lover (can't be tagged), @kissyfacekoo , @dontcribuyabag (can't be tagged), @ash07128 , @cinnamonbambii , @jeon-ruby , @starlight-1010 , @hellbornsworld , @dodoneck, @papiibuprofen , @canyon-lwt , @appleh4ad , @screamertannie , @jeonjenny (can't be tagged), @ahgasegotarmy116 , @badaismygf (can't be tagged), @oopscoop , @gabsrecs , @hiii-priestess , @junniesoleilkth (can't be tagged) , @caro134340lina , @ellesalazar

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts jungkook angst #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabbles #jungkook series #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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whoistartaglia · 3 months

Text

doing your boyfriend’s makeup

scaramouche/wanderer x reader

cw: very mildly suggestive at the end

“stop squirming.”

“i’m not—“

“stop talking!” you admonish, your shaky hand narrowly missing scaramouche’s eyelashes. he glares up at you through those very thick and unfairly long eyelashes. even without the mascara, scaramouche has the most gorgeous eyelashes you’ve ever seen. it’s unfair, really. you’re convinced that you could put on the entire tube’s contents of mascara on your own lashes and they would still have half as long as his.

with a huff and a pout, scaramouche closes his eyes once more. you continue to reapply the mascara in long, even strokes, hesitating ever so slightly when his flutter in a way that suggests scaramouche is seconds away from sleep—and that he might very well be. the tension of you nested on his lap and touching his face with gentle, wispy touches faded away to reveal the peace and tranquillity of the scene. it’s late into the evening hours, but the atmosphere suggests a gentle breeze, a warm summer afternoon, a harp playing somewhere in the background.

scaramouche is transported back to the bedroom, the fairy lights, and shuffled playlist playing from your small speaker, when you pause and he takes it upon him to open his eyes. you don’t reprimand him this time, instead taking a moment to study his face: the curve of his lips, the angle of his cheekbones, those eyelashes and dangerously gorgeous violet eyes underneath them.

“you’re so beautiful,” you whisper as scaramouche’s eyes flicker up to yours. “even without the makeup.”

scaramouche tilts his head as he studies your face in return. “i should be telling you that.”

there’s a smoke, a fog, a haze in the room with how you’re both lost in each other’s eyes.

“you do, though. every day.” you look down at the tube of mascara in your hands and set in on the vanity behind scaramouche. you look at yourself in the mirror before glancing at scaramouche’s reflection—even the back of his head, with it’s choppy haircut you requested a handful of times for him to let you straighten out, is beautiful.

“…do you really think so?”

you look back at scaramouche, surprised at the question. “of course i do.” you repeat yourself again for good measure. “you’re beautiful—even more than that.“

scaramouche is quiet for a second, contemplative, before a quiet, “thank you, [name].”

you know he’s thanking you for more than the compliment, more than the impromptu makeup session tonight, more than he might know himself.

“you’re welcome,” you return, meeting him in his cloudy, storm-filled eyes. your glance to your makeup bag and an idea like a bolt of lightning strikes you. “now, then. i just have one more thing. close your eyes again for me, okay?”

scaramouche does as he is told, fluttering his eyelids shut as you reach into your bag and pull out a bright red lipstick.

“you just need a little bit of chapstick.” you gently brush the “chapstick” on his pouted lips, even as he asks a, “and why did i need to close my eyes for this?” as you put it on.

you ignore the question and pose one of your own. “it’s all done! do you want to see what a lovely masterpiece your face has become?”

“do i want really to?” scaramouche asks, eyeing the open bottle of mascara and several q-tips and tissues you had to use for around the eye clean up.

“i’m going to say probably not, but you don’t have a choice.” you reach over and pickup a handheld mirror which you present infront of scaramouche. he studies his face, the long thick black eyelashes, the smuged eyeliner to bring out the lighter tones of lavender in his eyes, his lips colored—

“red.” scaramouche turns around to the vanity mirror, as if to double check that the firery red pigment on his lips is truly real. he meets your gaze in the mirror. “i didn’t know chapstick was red.”

“yeah, well… chapstick, lipstick, it’s all basically the same at the end of the day.” scaramouche sets the handheld mirror down and turns back to you, noting your oh-so innocent smile as you try to contain a laugh.

“you think you’re so funny,” scaramouche says, a new wicked gleam in his eyes.

“i’m familar with this shade because it’s always covering my lips, cheeks, and neck whenever you kiss me,” he whispers. you gulp nervously at his lascivious tone, and scaramouche is the one to smile. “consider this as payback.”

scaramouche leans in closer, and you don’t protest when his lips meet yours, staining them the same fiery red that you’re sure you’re going to be covered with by the time the sun is up tomorrow.

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kizoken · 4 months

Text

‧₊˚𖤐˚ 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁.ᐟ

⠀⠀⠀ ˚‧⁺･ ˖ ·CULT LEADER!GETO x FEM!READER x SUKUNA

SYN0PS1S : ❛the head of the cult has prepared to sacrifice his sweet and devoted follower to the ancient fiend they worship, though it might not be the type of sacrifice one thinks of at first.❜

W0RD C0UNT: 4k

C0NTENT WARN1NG : 18+ C0NTENT, smut, cults, rituals, light geto x reader, afab!reader, dry humping, hand job, true form sukuna, some plot, impact play, monster fucking, light choking, mind break, dumbification, degradation, corruption kink, double penetration, manipulation, implied breeding kink, oral (f ￫ m),

AUTH0RZ N0TEZ ; now this is a lil embarrassing fjvdfsc but anyways here it is, but rahhhhhhhhhh i finishedddddd, anyways, happy belated samhain everyone!!! plus ty vegas bae for beta reading some and giving me motivation, blessings 2 u 🙌🏻😽

tgz ; @kazushawty (honorable mention) @vilsoo @perfect-again @sukunas-whore420 @jilval @marimogf @sinistersnakey1427 @lovingami @noodle81937 @lucyrocks86 @emery-333

Your attention fixated on detangling and smoothing your community sister's hair with the fine boar bristles of the wooden hairbrush, complimented by the dim yellow light emanating from the ceiling in your room.

She would always find herself at the end of the day on the small stool near your rustic vanity table. She worked and played rough throughout the hours of the day. Never truly caring about how her appearance would look in the end.

Or maybe she did this on purpose in hopes of staying in a cozy room for as long as allowed. You do not blame her, though. You were the only person aside from the leaders to have her own room. And being the closest friend of the communities favored had its delights.

“Junko, would you like to sleep with me tonight?” You enquired, leaving the hairbrush on the table as you began to tangle her hair into a braid. The girl stopped fiddling with her dress as she heard your words.

“R-Really?!” Her tone was eager, and a faint squeal slipped from her. “Big sister, you’re not playing with me— are you?”

Your hands begrudgingly abandon Junko's half-done hair as she snapped her head to face you, a dreamy grin expanding along her soft face. She observed as your calm expression turned into a stern one, as you did not want to redo the braid. Upon this, she faced back and conceded to let you finish her hair.

"I know how crammed the quarters are becoming. You're my favorite person, and I want you to be free from the stuffiness sometimes." You contemplated keeping Junko as an occasional 'roommate', it was unfair to have an exclusive room. But the master always interjected when you requested for everybody in the circle to have more space.

'Sharing space is fundamental for our community belief, y/n! Us leaders have our own rooms for paperwork reasons as well as communing with higher spirits. We do it for the community, always. And you, you will help us achieve contact with our upper lord— of course, you need space to collect your thoughts and energy.' Is what master Geto said in your ear in one of your recurrent visits to his quarters.

"Thank you, sis," the girl's words cut through your trance whilst you recalled the recent memory. "And thank you for finishing up my hair!"

Junko's final sentence before bolting to the futon made you realize you finished her braid while thinking of the master. "You're welcome, don't wait up for me, rest up."

Your train of thought rounded once more to the leader of your community; he had not called for you at all throughout the day. Master Geto usually took at least an hour out of his busy schedule to have lunch or tea with you.

The sudden change in routine patterns was inconceivable, as he was the first one to push and be adamant on these frequent visits to be carried out. No matter what.

Truth be told; you longed for his company, his silk-wrapped words of praise to you, his delicate touch. It was wrong to devote yourself not only to the lord above but to his high priest. The hierarchy was renowned and respected. He calls upon you, not you on him. You do not— ever visit him unless urgent, only when he calls.

You began to blend some hydrating cream around your face, ready to settle down next to your friend and sleep away the night. Then, a sudden knock to your door attained your attention. You let them in to state the matter at hand.

"Master Geto wishes to see you, Lady y/n." said one of the master's right-hand men once he stepped in for a moment.

"I'll be right there, thank you."

Your fingers dabbed quickly to spread the cream all around your face, careful not to miss a single spot. "I'll be back." You announced at the doorway right before hustling through the hallway straight to Geto's room.

Every wrinkle and crease on your dress was attempted to be smoothened by your hands once you were in front of Geto's door. After adjusting your hair, a little, you placed a soft knock on the wooden door, followed by an invitation from the man to come inside.

"You wished to see me master?"

"Well of course, I missed your gorgeous face!"

His words like nectar provoked your heart to race and for your eyes to avoid his gaze to the side then to the floor. “Come closer and sit, pretty.”

Obeying his command you stepped further into the dim-lighted room, each step soft and delicate so as to not bother the leader in any way— he worked very hard after all and might be exhausted after a long day of work. You then settled yourself in front of the short wooden table with fragrant, fresh cup of tea neatly placed next to his.

The placing of the cup dawned confusion on you, you looked up to your master, ready to relay your question onto him. His wide stare halted you from doing so, penetrating iris’s locking down on your frame. His expression became one of serenity; a smile creeping on him, though you could see his tension on his body.

“Did you not hear me?” His low voice with feigned gentleness drove shivers down your spine and your heart to stop pumping blood for a second.

“Sit.”

Your surfacing smile pacified the heavy atmosphere in the room. “Of course,” You stood up to approach him and settled down in between his legs. “Forgive me sir…I should have been more empathic… you must be tired.”

His muscular arms wrapped around you, squeezing your body, commanding you to stay put.

"Indeed I am." Geto breathes those words into your ear low. To you, he was a snake, something to tread around with ease and care so as to not agitate such predator. And to him you were a little mouse, one that he could eat whole, a most refined delicacy to his species. However, Geto tended to, cared and spoiled you to the best of his capabilities— of which were substantially abundant. And it was hard to remove your attachments towards this man, he had marked every inch of your soul since you arrived at the commune.

His beautiful face found shelter in the crook of your neck, he laid there and took in your floral aroma. But this was no different than any other previous encounters. Your presence was gratifying enough for Geto, though he coveted something rather more carnal.

There was no surprise as his hands began to wander around your inner thighs and his kisses embedded themselves on your neck. His touch was synonymous to the ecstasy a drug can give you, and like a fool, you have become addicted to such caresses. His fingers sneak to uplift your dress and play around your white panties.

Your hips began to circle around his lap, allowing your ass to grind on his growing erection.

Geto venerated how your clothed pussy lips welcomed him with such feverish touches. And that’s as far as he may allow himself to go, delving in the pleasure of your unyielding purity. One in which he did not pride himself to steal but effervescently teased to take in these alone times with you.

“Master,” you exhaled, grinding harder on him. “More, I want to feel you more…touch me here…”

“Such greediness will lead you to sin; one that will ruin you.” His words did not attest to his actions. From your hips, his slender fingers approached your clothed cunt, looming his touch round your aching clit.

“I desire to be ruined by your hands…” you squeal and reach towards his face to caress his face. “No…you could not— ever ruin me. You’re a heaven-sent miracle of a man; you would bless me rather than ruin me.”

You intertwined your hand at the back of his, halting him from any further stimuli. “Touch me, however you like, master.”

“Only if you touch me however you want, my dear.”

Your mouth crept upwards, you moved to straddle his right thigh and place your palm on the tent of his robe.

Not long after, you were pumping on his pulsating cock with your hands as you rubbed your dampening pussy on his thigh. His rough hands clasped around the fat of your ass and his lips locked onto yours, delighting himself by the way your plump lips clung to his.

Your thumb teased around his tip, rubbing and then tracing the veins that adorned his shaft. Geto’s body melted by your touch, shuddering and holding onto you rougher as he felt the rush catching up to him. In these moments he fantasized on the way that your velvet walls would squeeze on him, take him and memorize his shape. He assumed you were untouched, so he imagined more than once taking your purity for himself.

You plunged yourself in the buzz of pretending to ride him, you were on your own illusion of him. Your cunt clenched at the thought of his girthy dick stretching you to his liking, on the way his tip would abuse your cervix and maybe, just maybe fill you up with his cum until your thighs were stained with white trails of cum by how full your womb was, it could no longer hold his seed inside.

Those naughty— no, horrendously nasty thoughts, procured your orgasms to leave you both in a mess and shaking. Hot breaths conversed on each other's lips and moans began to cease on their volumes until your controlled breaths and eye contact remained.

“Clean yourself on me, angel.” You looked down to see your hands covered in his thick orgasm, you nodded and began to wipe your hands onto his cotton vestment.

“Won't it ruin it?” you whispered, as you also took a glimpse of the damp stain on his robe.

“I have more to spare,” Geto exposed his upper body, revealing his toned physique. “Come lay on me and finish your tea.”

Obeying his words as holy gospel, you found yourself once more in between his legs and taking a sip of your now cold tea.

This wouldn't be the last encounter you would have with the cult master. There were plenty more after that leading to your ‘ascendance’ and contacting the one true god. Geto’s touches became more ravenous, his fingers clung to your flesh as if he wished to melt himself to you. His words began to increase in somberness, his voice still charming and enthusiastic though as time passed the hype in his voice became performative and forced to carry.

Even now as he left you all alone in the abandoned shrine and exhausted after performing the calling. He left you with one last gaze, his hand traveling around the frame of your face with his fingertips.

It felt like a last goodbye. And it was. To him, at least. To you it was a mere oracle or channeling session, one that it was heavily assured that you would come out alive from. There was nothing to worry about.

Keeping a positive mentality, you ventured further inside the old walls of the shrine to where Geto had told you. Never once startled, not even by the ominous setting you walked through.

There was something in the air, in its mood that mustered you to halt in your tracks. The atmosphere became heavy, you could feel it press against your shoulders and forehead. In what seemed to be a parlor that led to multiple traditional doors, something led you to a particular one.

Now you’ve become skeptical, the pressure never ceased to keep on squeezing down as you approached such compelling energy. Though you persevered until you fell onto your knees. You performed a bow, he was there, you knew it, somehow, and began to recite a prayer to enter in a meditative trance. You claimed it as energy, as anybody could feel such presence from up close. Asserting you would hear a voice; have a vision even. But you felt an enormous hand reach to pinch around your chin and cheeks just before entering your trance.

Your eyes shot wide open, and nothing could prepare you for such a sight you were to behold. Four red eyes gazed upon you before the lower two inspected the surroundings, though the ‘normal’ ones kept themselves locked to your face.

His big and tattooed face could make anybody outcry a bloody scream or faint on sight, however you remained planted frozen in place.

“Where am I?” he asked, his low voice agitating you by its authoritarian sway.

You mustered whatever courage you kept tucked inside you to diligently answer this ‘thing’, “The once holy shrine where they worshiped Lord Sukuna Ryomen.”

“Hmm,” he seemed pleased by your answer, though this was not his only question. “And who are you supposed to be?”

“Sukuna’s oracle.” you whispered, still locked in his gaze until he let out a laugh. Once ceased Sukuna gaze fixed itself on you again this time in a deep examination of your figure and face.

“How can such a pretty thing be my oracle?” ‘oracle’, the code name used for sacrifice, “Such a pity…but I know how to make good use of you.”

The air began to feel heavy around you, somehow making you daze and sway. His crimson irises and his sharp smile toyed with your heartstrings; he looked terrifying though nonetheless charming. “Do you wish to serve me?”

How could you refuse, the strange allure impregnating the air took reign over your decisions. “With all my heart, my lord.”

“Come,” his grip on your face loosened yet never strayed away from your skin. He led you to inch closer to him, slower and slower until you had to shift while resting on his large lap.

You wore a white dress that fell to your ankles with buttons on the front of which Sukuna’s fingertips began to rip button for button. His third and fourth hand slipped under and was pleased to find out you wore nothing under as he kneads at the flesh of your hips.

Heat between your legs pooled as the anticipation and daze rised. Suddenly you gasped as a hot wet thing lapped at your cunt. You had not observed the fiend very well, but it appeared he had been summoned naked and had a peculiar mouth running along his torso, though you caught a glimpse of some robes nearby. It was explicit he was not wearing one as you felt a large, thick thing bud at your back.

“Such smooth skin,” he started, trailing his enormous hands through the now exposed skin of your chest and trailing his fingertips to your nipples. “Are your lips the same?”

“You’re more than welcome to feel for yourself, my lord…use me.” words that dripped out of your mouth were thrown out due to the heat of the moment. However, they came from the deepest places of your psyche as you let out a fraction of your desires out in the open.

And Sukuna did not hesitate to tie his lips to yours in a hungry manner. It had been over a thousand years since he had walked the land, he was going to seize the opportunity to have you as his. That is until he became tired of you.

His belly tongue’s tip began to nudge and circle around your clit, rubbing it around and stimulating it until coursing is way to your entrance and digging itself inside. His other tongue teased your own in such heated kisses, roaming and getting to know the manner of your touch and taste.

Your hips circled around his belly tongue and your moans increased in volume, Sukuna wanted to hear you in your full splendor. Leaving your lips, you whined but was soon subdued as he went down to your neck and shoulder blades.

He did not want to waste a second, after all he had been put to rest for some thousand years or so, but who's counting? Certainly not him, as he took his sweet time to stretch your pussy out with his lower tongue.

"Feels s-soo good, lord ah~" you felt along his big body, not knowing which place to hold onto. But your fingernails dug deep in his whichever flesh they grasped on. "More~ need you."

Though you were shy in to moving your hips to please yourself, you desperately wanted to induce some friction of your own. Sukuna could tell the desperation in your restraint movements.

"What is it that you're waiting for my dear, hmm?" His words traveled to you low and slow, his hot breath circling around your frame. "You shy?"

He grinned as he taunted you, revealing his sharp canine teeth, enhancing the true horror that he is. "Let us fix that."

One of Sukuna's large hands wrapped itself around your small neck. Pressing onto the sides and blocking the arteries that lead oxygen, or the only thing that kept you sane at the moment. Your vision began to blur as your senses numbed out, leading for your subconscious desires to reign over.

As the fear and shyness decreased the intensity of the movement of your hips increased, rutting yourself against the fiends lower tongue you babbled how you wished more of him.

You whine while sensing the tip of one of his cocks tap at your entrance. One last lap at your pussy and Sukuna found solace inside you. He was not coy in revealing his deep moans to you, as you moaned alongside him as if you both were chanting a similar symphony. And he had not felt the touch of a woman for at least two thousand years., He's allowed to do more than just moan.

An indent began to appear on your lower stomach as he buried himself deep. You felt so full of him, as if all your 'chastity' and devotion was worth the sacrifice. Though your human nature is to be greedy and desire to have more. His lower dick slapped against your back while Sukuna fucked himself with you.

Your hands reached at your back to stroke him, teasing and fondling in the tip in a sloppy manner. "Want! I-ah!"

The demon-like figure chuckled and buried two thick fingers to satiate your needs while stretching you out more and more as a means for you to take his other dick.

"What will you do to stay with me?" Sukuna started as he lifted you in the air as if you were the lightest feather and depriving you of any further carnal sin.

"My lord!" you squeal in displeasure. You thought on his mean demeanor as you stroked along his muscular arm that was closest to your face. He squeezed further around your neck, waiting for a definite answer. "Anything- hgn!"

Finally appeased with an appropriate answer he lowered you backdown, yet now fulfilling your truest desire of having all of him. Thrusting his two cocks inside of you he delved in the blissfulness your slick walls felt around him. As well as finally having a loyal companion in this new era.

The first woman he had in a millennium, with a body that drove him mad, with such devotion that at the mention of carrying his offsprings it might make her stay by his side till the end of her— your life.

Lord Sukuna had not emerged from the shrine he currently resided in. It had been a solid two days since you had been escorted to be his offering. To replenish his energy and strength, to become once more the almighty being he was always destined to be. Even if it meant he’d rip you apart, limb from limb and feast on your mangled body.

Geto had placed watchers at a safe distance around the shrine to notify him immediately once he surfaced. The lack of response or movement around the area bubbled a fuming discontent on the leader.

He had mourned you for the first few hours of your departure, you were his favorite doll, his pretty little lamb. How could he not? There was a void filling deep within him from such absence, your pleasurable words resonated around him, and your delectable touches on his skin began to ghost throughout his flesh in that lonely night he had to give you up for the greater good.

But as time flew by, suspicion and dissatisfaction started to eat away Geto’s mind as no concrete response was ever given to him. It pestered his psyche once the dawning realization that the ritual might as well not work at all made the man grow wary.

He had tricked foolish minds into desecrating and summoning an ancient and malevolent fiend into the physical world. Something that was still to date, illegal in the country. What if you had figured it out, that this was not a community, built for good and benevolent things, but instead a malignant cult? Was it that you ran straight to a police station as you found out your divine purpose was all a facade?

No. It cannot be it would have been a shit fest of cops and news anchors by now. And the people surrounding would have notified Geto immediately if you had left the shrine at any time. Something was off and Geto was forced to investigate, get to the bottom of it and resolve whatever went wrong; right.

So, there he stood right outside the devil's den, ominous and deadly as ever. But he knew how fiends worked, so there was no trembling limb overcoming his body as he entered the old building.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his weight with every step he took further in. He resumed the trail he had previously taken the day of the ritual. The same one he took you through. Geto had an inkling you had not moved from where he previously left you.

Sure enough, as he approached the central room of the shrine, voices could be heard; muffled and in a low volume. The holes, ‘claw’ marks and pieces of wood peeking from the walls and floor meant something happened.

With heavy, rushed footsteps Geto approached where the voices came from. The sight he was witnessing was the last thing he would have ever thought of. Sukuna had finally manifested into the material world; however, he was finding solace in you. More specifically inside you.

Geto stood there frozen, observing how the fiend he desperately tried to summon, fuck his favorite disciple. He felt taken aback by how you moaned his name, the way your skin welcomed his touch and how your cunt swallowed his length enthusiastically as you sat on him.

Sukuna’s tummy tongue ran itself along your spine as his other one licked around your neck, intensifying the pleasure he provided you. Two of his four hands groped around your tits while occasionally pinching and tugging at your perked nipples as the other two held at your hips while one of his cocks pistoned themselves into your pussy.

His other cock, placed lower than the one inside you, rubbed on your puffed out clit. Your brain was disconnected to reality for some time now, only thinking of the fiend using you.

Sukuna had marked you in every way, the most prominent to the eye being as bite marks. Geto trailed his eyes through all of the scattered indentations left by Sukuna across your back, fuming with jealousy. It should have been him, but before he could step forward, he felt something drip out of his neck. He reached out to it, hoping it would be water or sweat, though he saw a blooming maroon color stain his fingertips. And he saw yet another familiar crimson looks with a devilish grin, though now it was through the fiend he so desperately tried to summon right before he collapsed to the floor.

You did not hear nor felt a presence in front of you drop dead at all. Your full attention was on Sukuna and only Sukuna. And he was only focused on you and weakening havoc in humanity…later.

m.list & request

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Daybreak

summary: sunrise/sunset & orgasm control || aemond is eager to give you your first christmas gift, so long as you're willing to wait for it

pairing: modern!aemond x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, oral sex (f receiving), aemond being a tease, dirty talk, fingering, mentions of public sex but it’s in a dream lmao, nipple/breast play, edging/orgasm denial, piv sex, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink at the end, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2k

a/n: happy day nine of 12 days of smuff!! aemond is a menace but what else is new!!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @bbygirl-aemond

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Aemond, please,” your voice sounds so far away as you speak, like you’re listening to yourself underwater, “We can’t, not here!” Your voice is so high-pitched in your ears, so whiny and desperate despite yourself.

Your boyfriend merely chuckles, hands not stopping as they eagerly shove your dress up your hips, one that was already short enough to be damn near scandalous. You hear yourself gasp as his fingers tear into your fishnet stockings, ripping them right where he needs to before he’s pushing you up onto the vanity. A shiver climbs up your spine when your back hits the cool glass of the mirror, soap dispenser clattering into the sink as your hands search desperately for something to hold onto.

“Shhh,” Aemond coos, leaning in to press a comforting to kiss to your lips before trailing downward, lips and tongue working against your soft skin as he travels down your neck and chest, where he pauses briefly to nip at the tops of your breasts before continuing down, “No one can hear, princess. S’just you and me.” You know he’s right, you can practically feel the music outside the door thumping through your bones, the raucous laughter and yelling from the party only further driving his point home.

Your head tilts back as he softly kisses up one leg, starting at your ankle and working his way up. A hand tangles in his hair, and something between a gasp and moan claws its way out of your throat as he bites at your inner thigh while his hands twine themselves around your hips.

Your brows furrow together in confusion, even as he presses his lips against your clit, hot tongue sneaking out just a second later to swirl against the sensitive flesh. You’re so close already, h–

“How?” You croak out, breathlessly voicing your thoughts as your hands tug at his hair, trying to pull him away as your cunt clenches, already feeling overstimulated and taught, even though he’d only been touching you for a few seconds, “Aemond?”

Your voice seems to echo all around you and the sounds of the party outside become distorted as well, though the desperation in your core quickly drowns all of that out as you feel yourself winding tighter and tighter and –

You wake with a gasp, all but bolting off the bed, arms and legs scrambling as your eyes scan the shadowy room. You try to close your thighs, only to be met with resistance, and it’s only then you calm down, eyes finally adjusted enough to make out Aemond’s familiar shape in the dark.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he soothes, your thighs twitch in his grasp as he presses soft kisses to your sopping core, “S’only me, princess.” His voice is low and reassuring as he speaks, though you don’t miss the slight rasp in it, a gruffness to it that only happens during intimate moments.

“What–?” You start to ask, only to be cut off by a loud moan as he swirls his tongue against your clit, practically setting fire to the small bud as it twitches helplessly. He simply pulls back with a laugh, relishing the way you squirm in his hold.

“Just giving you your first present, baby,” he rasps, blowing against your center just to watch you writhe, his eye glued on your center, watching closely as it twitches feebly around nothing, “Sounded like you were dreaming about me, hm? Woke up to you whimpering my name.”

You hardly have the wherewithal to nod, though you bob your head dutifully, the knot in your belly already wound impossibly tight. Swallowing thickly, you glance over at the clock on your bedside table.

7:28AM

Groaning, you bite your lower lip, brows knitting together as you thread your fingers through Aemond’s hair. You open your mouth to ask a question, though that dies on your lips when he ever so gently sucks your clit into his mouth. A sob heaves from your throat as your pussy clenches desperately again, the knot in your belly so, so close, you’re almost–

And he stops, pulling away from you with a wicked grin.

“What the fuck!” You whine, nearly petulant as you buck your hips, frantically seeking any stimulation you could get your hands on as your high fades away once more.

“Language,” he admonishes, biting at the inside of your thigh, just enough to hear you whine, “Wouldn’t want to end up on the naughty list right at the finish line, would you?”

“But I was so close!”

“You’ll get it, princess,” he promises, pausing to lick one last slow, savoring lick up your center before he begins kissing his way up your body, “But good girls wait until Christmas morning to open their presents, don’t they?”

“It’s seven thirty!” You whine, arching into his touch despite your annoyance as he kisses up your stomach, “Doesn’t that count?!”

He snickers, stopping to press wet, warm kisses to the fat of your breasts before he swirls his tongue around a nipple, groaning as he does. “Sunrise isn’t until seven fifty,” he teases, teeth nipping at your sensitive peak as his fingers tease the other, “Looked it up last night.”

You groan, knowing fighting is useless. If Aemond is determined to tease you, he usually gets his way, and something tells you begging won’t get you anywhere this time. As if sensing your submission, your boyfriend sighs happily and smiles as he kisses his way up to your lips; you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks against yours – you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

“Gonna be a good girl and wait for your present then?” He asks, shuffling closer to you until you could feel his length, hard and ready, bobbing against your center as he kneels between your spread legs.

You nod and whisper a breathless yes, arching up into him yet again with a loud groan as one of his thumbs skirts over your clit, instantly driving you nearly to the edge. He huffs out a soft laugh above you and keeps rubbing the small bud until he sees your eyes flutter and roll back, a tell tale sign you’re almost there, and he pulls away again.

“You know what I want, baby?” He asks, ghosting his thumb over your twitching clit again as soon as he sees you relax, smirking softly at the way your body instantly tenses up, on edge yet again. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he draws you up and up and up before stopping once more, “I wanna feel this pretty little pussy fall apart on my cock as soon as I slide into you.”

The casual way he says it makes your head spin, like he’s telling you about some mundane thing that happened at work. You let out a broken sob as you look toward the clock once more, eyes taking a second to focus through the cloud of pleasure that’s so thickly blanketed your brain.

7:40AM

You feel like crying, how were you meant to last ten more minutes when the past twelve had felt like an eternity?

“Aemond, please,” you chance, squirming beneath him yet again, trying to wiggle your hips against his hand or something, “P-Please, I can’t.” Your voice is hoarse as you shake your head up at him. Even in your state, even as he tortures you, you can’t help but admire him taking in the way his pale skin practically glows in the soft, barely there light of the growing dawn.

His chest is heaving too and it occurs to you then that this must be a test for him as well, and that much is confirmed when your eyes trace slowly down the planes of his body to his cock, gasping when you see how flushed it is as it rests against your folds, the leaking head already positioned at your entrance.

“Tapping out in the last couple minutes?” He teases, using his thumb to build you back up yet again before smirking as he watches you writhe and sob when he pulls it away yet again, “I don’t think quitters are on Santa’s nice list, princess.”

You don’t have it within yourself to argue anymore, your brain too scrambled as he brings you to the edge again, each time quicker than the last.

He teases you for the last few minutes, though they feel like years as his fingers ghost across your aching bud. You nearly feel faint, your heart hammering in your chest as you come down from yet another almost-high.

“Think we have time for one more, baby,” he whispers, smirking viciously as you go rigid beneath him the second the pad of his thumb comes into contact with your clit, “Ohh, there you go, I think you’re ready, huh?” He muses, jerking his thumb away almost as quickly as he touches you, violet eye sparkling as he watches your drooling core twitch in the warm orange light that’s just barely filtering in through the window.

You nod your head frantically, fingers aching from how tightly you’ve been gripping the sheets. You can’t help but whine and squirm as you feel him rub his cock along the length of your center, gathering your wetness before he slots the tip at your entrance. You feel like dying when he pauses yet again, although you nearly cry with relief as he speaks.

“You’ve done so good for me, baby. So perfect, doing everything I say just like a good, good girl,” he praises, ever so slightly pushing into you with a groan, marveling at how tight you already are as you just barely hang onto the edge, “Come for me, princess.” He says before pushing into you quickly, his entire length sliding in all at once.

You feel like you’re on fire as pleasure courses through you, wilder and hotter than it ever has before. Your back arches off the bed as a loud moan, more akin to a scream, is ripped from your chest the second he fills you, pressing into every bit of you. You hardly hear him groaning above you, growling lowly in his chest at the way your walls clench and pulse against his length, tighter than he ever thought possible.

You feel like your high never ends as shiver after shiver of pleasure rolls over you, your entire body tensing and relaxing with each contraction of your walls around his thick length. You sob with it, chest heaving as you call his name over and over like it’s the only word you know.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally feel yourself calming down and you whimper as your muscles finally relax.

“You did so fucking good,” he says reverently, his pale hair fanning out like a curtain around your head as he leans down to press gentle, soothing kisses to your forehead while his big hands cup your flushed cheeks, “So good, so perfect. Merry Christmas, my good girl” You giggle, nearly delirious as you finally settle down, and blush at his praises.

It’s only when you squirm again that you remember his length is still buried inside you and you moan softly, brows furrowed together as you gaze up at him, “You didn’t cum?” You ask, your voice a breathy whisper.

He chuckles again, lowly, like he was waiting for you to ask, “Oh, sweet girl,” he whispers and slowly starts rocking his hips, smirking when you moan under him and clench at his shoulders, “That was your present, baby, but it wasn’t mine.”

You shiver as he speaks, eyes fluttering at the cocky, taunting tone with which he speaks before they focus on his violet one yet again, “W-What’s your present?” You ask, already breathless as his hips speed up against you.

“The baby I’m gonna to put in your belly,” he groans, clenching his teeth as you tighten around him, “Seeing you all round and swollen with me, fuck – Making you a pretty little mommy is my present, princess.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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cloveswifey · 6 months

Text

REAL TO ME - MATTHEO RIDDLE

Chapter two

Content Warning: Swearing, Jealousy, fake dating, secrets, lying, panties?

Series MasterList

Pansy and I strolled down the hallways, eagerly anticipating breakfast, when suddenly someone grabbed my hand, causing me to gasp.

"Hey, y/n, can I have a word with you?" Mattheo asked, pulling me away from Pansy as she entered the great hall.

"What do you want, Mattheo?" I sighed, rolling my eyes. "I hope this won't take forever."

"To cut to the chase... Adrian Pucey spread a rumor throughout the entire school that we're dating," Mattheo frowned at the revelation.

"What?!" I exclaimed in disgust.

My heart sank. The fact that everyone believed we were in a relationship felt like a lightning bolt striking my chest.

"I can't believe people actually bought into it," I panicked. "I can't stand you."

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I would never date someone like you.”

"And I would never date someone like you." I retorted.

He frowned, disregarding my protest. "Listen, I have an idea. What if we pretend to be a couple for a few months?"

I shook my head, questioning his suggestion. "Why would we do that?"

"Just until the rumors die down," he explained. "It'll save us from any further embarrassment. Plus, it'll help you get Adrian off your back."

I raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. "And what do you gain from this proposal?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, there's this one girl..." he trailed off.

I chuckled. "Oh really? And who might that be?"

"Olivia Vanity," he responded.

"Wait, isn't she your ex?" I asked, arching an eyebrow and then glancing up at him.

"Yes," he confirmed with a nod. "She claims to be in love with Percy, but I know she's just trying to make me jealous."

Talk about having a big ego.

“I kind of also told Theo…” he awkwardly chuckled scratching the back of his head.

I groaned, "You actually told Theo?!"

"He was pestering me about it!" Mattheo justified. “He also told the rest of our group.”

I shook my head, containing my anger, and he continued, "They already gave me a hard time about you this morning!"

"So you just told them we were dating?!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of panic before letting out a frustrated groan.

"I panicked," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"What do we tell them then? Cause we need to make his believable" I inquired, whispering to ensure our conversation remained discreet amidst the passing students.

"I told Theo that we've been secretly dating for 3 months..." he trailed off.

"3 months?! How can we be dating for 3 months when all we do is express our anger towards each other!" I groaned, frustrated with his ridiculous solution.

"But Theo believed it!" he argued.

I responded with a frown and firmly said, "No, definitely not."

"Why," Mattheo groaned, "It would make so much sense." He replied, frowning.

"No, it wouldn't. I'm me, and you... well, you're you!" I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.

"They already think we've been secretly dating, there's no going back now..." he rolled his eyes at my pettiness.

"Listen, let's skip first period. I'll meet you at your dorm and we can discuss this in more detail," Mattheo suggested as he walked away.

There was no way I was going for breakfast. I can't face my friends just yet.

So I made the decision to go up to my dorm, hoping that Pansy would be going to her classes.

Once inside, I gently closed the door behind me. After such a hectic day, I made the decision to freshen up. So, I spent about an hour taking a soothing shower, lathering up with my beloved strawberry-scented soap and shampoo.

As soon as I finished my shower, feeling rejuvenated and hygienic, I quickly changed into my clothes and flopped onto my bed.

It was clear to me as I lay there that it would take quite some time to process the information I had just received.

The idea of pretending to date Mattheo was overwhelming, and I had a strong intuition that it wouldn't be a walk in the park.

I let out a frustrated sigh as a loud knock echoed through my room. "You're late," I grumble, swinging open the front door to find Mattheo standing there in his quitchitch jumper.

He wore a puzzled expression. "How can I be late if I arranged it?"

"It's already third period!" I retort, crossing my arms in annoyance.

"Is it?" Mattheo innocently murmurs, snapping me out of my thoughts. He casually walks past me, heading towards my dormitory.

"Make yourself at home," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes before closing the door.

As I turn back around, I notice him sitting at my desk, spinning around on my chair. However, my attention is quickly drawn to the pair of panties in his hands. "Red and laced," he smirks, "A thong too!"

I feel my face flush with embarrassment as I quickly snatch them out of his hand. "What the hell, Mattheo? We need to set some boundaries here," I assert, trying to regain my composure.

“Boundaries?” He frowns, "Come on, don't be such a buzzkill… we don’t need rules," he frowns.

"I'm not trying to kill the fun, but we need to establish boundaries," I explain.

"Boundaries? Like what?" he asks, sounding skeptical.

"Well, for instance, PDA," I say hesitantly.

Mattheo shrugs nonchalantly and responds, "Just sit on my lap, hold hands, and kiss me at the right time. It's not that complicated."

"Kiss you?" I ask, surprised.

"Of course," he chuckles, twirling in my desk chair.

The thought makes me pause. "I don't know about that," I say uncertainly.

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffs. "If we're going to pretend to be in a relationship, we have to make it believable. And that means kissing."

I groan in frustration. "Fine."

"Also you have to come to all of my Quidditch matches." He demands.

I groan, "But they're so boring."

"You'll survive," he responds, rolling his eyes. "parties too."

"Fine, but you have to be my partner in Potions class. I can't work with Seamus Finnigan anymore," I mutter, recalling the last time we brewed a potion and the cauldron exploded.

"Okay, but you're also coming with me on the ski trip," he declares, twirling his wand between his fingers.

Woah!

The annual ski trip at Hogwarts was legendary. It was notorious for being the place where more students lost their virginity than on Valentine's Day and the Yule ball combined.

I've never been there, of course.

"Um... do you think we'll still be doing this? It's like 4 months away," I raise an eyebrow.

"Let's call it... a contingency," he smirks. "No one in their right mind would let their boyfriend go without them."

"Fair enough..." I mutter quietly to myself.

“So if we are still doing this by the time it comes around.” Mattheo insists, “You have to go with me.”

I'm confident that by the time the ski trip rolls around, Mattheo and I will be a thing of the past.

"Alright," I reply, "it's a deal.”

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the-faceless-bride · 7 months

Text

Pretty piggy in a cage...

Summary➡ Being Asa's newest and precious little butterfly, he feels the need to show his good friend Jesse... Only things quickly backfire as Jesse takes interest in his friend's little piggy...

Tags: @gothmothsiren @frostbitefae @wallywaffle @brwnicons

Warnings: Dark Content, sexual implications, Objectification, infantilization, marking, forced touching, forced kissing, body horror, some violence to reader, kidnapping, name calling, mentions of cannibalism, attempts of escape, Starvation, reader is described as having long hair at least shoulder length

You put yourself in his box. You had nothing left, nothing but the money you had saved, the clothes on your back, and those sweet eyes the strange Masked man seemed to enjoy so much.

You have never seen his face, and you honestly didn't care. All you knew was when he saw you he held your face in such a gentle manner, his gloved hand was gentle and held you softer than anyone ever had. His blacked-out eyes just stared into yours with such an enamored and curious look like you were the only thing in this world he wanted.

So when he picked you up and tried to lower you into the red box you didn't struggle, you tucked yourself into the box curling into yourself as much as you could to fit as comfortably as you could.

He seemed to enjoy that, he patted your head before stroking down to your cheek before slowly closing the box.

And once the box reopened, he held your shoulder moving you around the broken-down building that looked like it used to be a hotel.

The art around the building was... Interesting, the more you looked at it the more the stranger rubbed your shoulder. And once he lead you through a hall full of pounding locked doors, yelling, and people in cages the stranger held you to his chest.

He brought you into a bathroom and sat you on the plush pink stool. He picked up a soft-bristled brush and carefully brushed your hair, you sat there for a long time before he stopped and moved to open a wooden box painted with butterflies and lined with gems, pulling out pink and blue ribbons, sectioning your hair before trying the ribbons, looking at you in the mirror before reaching back into the wooden box and pulling out a gloss; squishing your cheeks making your lips pucker before smearing the glittery pink gloss across your lips.

He admired you for a moment before pulling a knife from a holder on his waist and using it to slice down your clothes, your shirt was first; he pulled the shirt off your shoulders from your front your best exposed to the cold air, you closed your eyes feeling the strangers gloved hands felt below your chest and felt around your ribs before moving to your hips and ripping your pants.

The strange man put you in a soft white dress, it fell to your knees in layers, a silk ribbon in the middle of your chest, soft long puffed sleeves felt smooth along your arms.

You hang your head as he presses what you think is a kiss you the side of your temple, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back and leading you through the building, he had to guide you around to not step in a trap or get glass stuck in your bare foot.

He picked you up, carrying you up the long flights of stairs before opening a heavily bolted metal door that had hanging flowers around the door; some were dead, and others seemed fake.

Upon entering the room, a large bed covered in ruffled sheets and fluffy pillows, a sheer curtain of some kind hung around the tall wooden frames around the bed. A pink fluffy carpet was placed on the oddly clean floor, the vanity mirror had a single crack running through it, and the large dresser doors were open exposing the hanging frilly dresses similar to the one you were currently wearing.

You're his butterfly; the pretty little thing he likes to observe and touches with such soft hands, showed off to the others who could only wish not to be in chains like you, to be able to wander around, to be able to speak without being beaten.

One day he seemed extra touchy with you, he put in extra effort to make you look the way he wanted perfect you didn't know what you had done to deserve the extra treatment but it was better than what anyone else was getting in this depressing hotel.

He braided your hair; intricately placing flowers in it, he put you in a bodysuit made of silk that showed more of your chest, around your waist he tied a wispy skirt that reached the floor; it was slightly sheer and also had flowers embroidered giving it a very whimsical look, finally, he actually put you in shoes; they seemed like warn down ballerina shoes, elegant and gold the flowers were delicate.

After giving you one last look before running a hand down your neck moving in close and pressing his masked nose to your hair taking a long breath.

He placed you back in your room, sitting you down on the fluffy rug and making a 'stay' motion before leaving the room; you didn't know how long he was gone for, but when he came back he wasn't alone...

A man walked in with him, he was tall very tall...strong and wore a sharp black suit, and a chrome skull mask.

The chrome stranger looked to the man who kept you in this room, getting a single nod from your kidnapper and he started moving towards you; you whimpered and slightly moved back, but when the black-masked man hushed you and the chrome stranger reached out to you, his hand ghosting over your braided hair moving to brush a finger under your eyelids and moving to your neck giving a small squeeze before continuing his journey, gloved hand moving down your chest across your stomach to your legs squeezing your inner thigh.

He was inspecting you...

He caught you by surprise when he lifted his finger to your nose and gave it a little flick before teasingly pitching your cheek.

What a pretty little piggy. What a Fine Catch Asa Found; Jesse thought. Looking up at him with those sweet pretty eyes of yours. Almost tempted to think of you as less of a piggy and more of a doe... A sweet fawn. Jesse stopped squeezing your cheek and moved behind you leaning to push his mask against your soft hair. What a sweet thing.

Asa and Jesse both take one of your hands and take you out into a separate area you've never been to before. The room had two comfy-looking chairs, plane walls, and a small fluffy 'rug' just to the right of one of the chairs, the room also had something you found interesting. It had camera monitors, and you really wish you could just look away.

The horrors of what you saw.

You knew to some degree that there were poor souls in this place and that something terrible was happening to them. But you couldn't imagine what was on the screens. Rows and rows of people that... Weren't even people anymore... Monsters. Real-life horror movie monsters. Body's mutilated some with multiple limbs, some blind, some with jaws broken and modified to be long and odd-shaped, some of them seemed to be in a room with other monsters and they were... Eating each other.. God. What is this place? Why? Why was this something that never crossed your mind before.? Was... Was this going to happen to you?... Was this his plan? Will this happen to you when he gets bored of you?!

You slowly sat on the small rug where you were told, your eyes never leaving the monsters on the screen.

The two masked men were signing at each other, communicating about something. You couldn't understand them, but you truly couldn't care.

And you felt an itch. An itch to run. An itch to get away. Not wanting to be the next monster...

You would've been fine... You could've ignored the itch... If it wasn't for that one moment. Where one of the monsters that was cannibalizing the other turned. And look right into the camera.... Right.

At.

You.

And you ran. And you seemed to catch both men off guard. As they had yet to catch you.

That monster... That thing...

The blood fell from its odd crooked mouth. It's red bloodshot eyes staring at you.

And it only got worse.

Along the walls of the hotel, bodies ripped open. Displayed like art. No. No. No. Please. You don't want this. You just wanted to be taken away from the mean world. And now you were stuck in an even crueler one.

Loud footsteps could be heard down the halls, you look and your eyes meet the ones of the masked man. The one who took you... The Master...

You started hyperventilating as you tripped over your own feet. One of your feet getting locked in a trap. You let out a yelp of pain. Almost sounding like a kicked puppy, as you fell to the hard cold ground.

You try and yank your foot out, but that only makes the trap worse. Making you cry out. The skull masked on being the tallest and taking the longest strides gets to you first. Shaking his head and wagging his finger at you in a moving way, before giving you a little tap, bad.

You shink in on yourself. "please. Don't let the monsters get me. Don't let me be one of them..." You whimper into his shoulder. he brushes your hair from your face. And uses his loose hand to unlock the trap.

Asa truly was a lucky man. A lucky man indeed... He wouldn't mind if he... Borrowed you... For a while would he? Of course not. What else are friends for? Right?

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virtuouswhitehatorganization · 4 months

Text

I Think Heroes Are Still In PEACE Because Of Goldheart

I was wondering why the supers are still supporting PEACE even though Heed hypnotized them. I have a feeling its' due to the fact that they don't know that Goldheart was in on it. I think a lot of supers look up to Goldheart as a paragon of virtue and think he wouldn't be in on Heed's plan even though she's apart of the Golden Rule. I also think he would pretend in public he didn't know about Miss Heed's deeds in order to save face for himself. As a result, this would prompt many heroes to still support him when it comes to doing what they can to stamp out the crime spree made by Miss Heed. As a result, they would still believe if they can't trust the system they could at least trust the paragon of the organization.

#villainous #villanos #villainos #vanity bolt #tritan #villainous theory #villanos theory #villainous headcannon #villanos headcannon #miss heed #humiko kanji #omega nuclear #steel titan #incinemaiau #coyote #villainous coyote #villanos coyote

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paper-gold-theories · 2 years

Text

Vanity: Hey Flug, you're a former Villain right? Do you know what's a THOT? Every time I fight with Dark Phantom he always says "Begone THOT!".

Flug: Um well...[awkwardly deciding how to answer, but was interrupted]

GoldHeart, passing by: It means "That Hero Over There". A Villain says it to a Hero when they're really impressed by them.

Vanity: Really? DID YA HEAR THAT P.E.A.C.E!? I'M A TRUE THOT!!!

GoldHeart: [Wheezing with laughter in the background]

- HeroFlugAU (GoldHeart is a troll 😂)

#goldheart said it so it must be true #villainous #dr flug #goldheart #villanos #dr kenning flugslys #herbert leth #dark phantom #vanity bolt #villainous au #HeroFlugAU #villainous incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #gold heart

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airaibunny · 9 months

Text

dom!yujin x sub!fem!reader - “more than studying” (warnings: smut, first time/inexperience, high school AU, praise, scissoring, breast play, begging)

a/n: requested! omg i’m sorry about the length, i just started writing shit and i didn’t realize how long it was. it wasn’t gonna be an au at first, but i decided against that. i know i’m trying a lot of firsts lately, but this is my first time writing an au, i ask u guys to please give me feedback as per usual. but um, ig hopefully i didn’t fuck it up that much

word count: 3.3k

everybody knows who ahn yujin is. she’s your high school’s “it” girl. you’re not exactly her friend, you don’t even know if she knows who you are. despite this, you can’t help but be completely captivated with her, but not in the way you should be.

all of the other girls look at her with envy. they swarm around her like bugs, they all want to be in her place. on the contrary, you look at her completely enamored. you have memorized every feature on her face, even if you’ve never gotten an up close look at them. the things you think about while looking at her are criminal, but you can’t stop yourself.

if only she’d give you the time of day. you often daydream about her asking you to hang out, or flat out kissing you in the middle of the hallway. but she’s never acknowledged you in the slightest. you’d love to get close to her, but you’re much too sheepish to do so yourself.

her usual flock of friends run to greet her when she walks in the front door of the school. you watch from afar for a few seconds, but quickly run to class in fear of being late.

your grades are entirely too important to jeopardize them for one more meaningless look at yujin. you’re very intelligent, top of your class in fact. you don’t live up to the tv-nerd stereotype however; you’re very pretty. you don’t indulge in vanity though, you hate being the center of attention and don’t crave praise for your looks.

you hear the bell ring and impatiently await the teacher. first period is dreadful to sit through because you can’t stop looking at the clock in anticipation; the only class you have with yujin is the one right after this.

your teacher rushes into the classroom, apologizing for the delay. you quietly sit through today’s lecture, sometimes catching yourself thinking about yujin and not paying attention.

the bell finally rings and you bolt up from your spot, packing up erratically and speeding out the door. you walk down the hallway as fast as you can and into your second period classroom. you sit at your usual spot in the front, closest to the teacher.

you watch the door like a hawk, waiting for yujin to walk in. when she finally does, you abruptly turn away, not wanting her to see you looking her way. you think she’s just going to walk past you and go sit in the back like she routinely does, but you freeze when she sits right next to you.

fuck.

you can feel your heart skip at beat as she takes out her notebook. you’ve obviously been this close to her before, but never for an extended period of time.

“shit. do you have a pen?”

your eyes widen at the remark. you turn your head to look at her, shaking. “yeah, here you go.” you nervously smile, holding out your hand with your own pen. “is this the only one you have? i don’t want to take it if it is.” you pull out another pen from your pencil case and hold it up to show her. she smiles and takes the pen your previously offered.

you turn back to the front, trying to stay calm. that was the longest (and the only) conversation you’ve ever had with her.

“wait, you’re the really smart girl. y/n, right?” you turn back to face her, in shock that she’s still talking to you. “yes, i am.” you hide your hands in your lap in fear that she might notice how shaky you are. “please drop the honorifics, they’re really not necessary.”

you agree with a nod, but you’re squealing inside. the ahn yujin just asked you to speak to her informally. does this mean you’re friends?

she gives you a big grin and you give her one back. “your smile is so cute!” your breathing hitches, did she just compliment you?

“oh, thank you.” you practically whisper to her, too flustered to raise your voice. “of course!”

the bell rings and you’re left to think about your interaction in complete silence. paying attention is extraneously hard, how are you supposed to concentrate when she just complimented you?

you keep looking at her throughout the entire class, but you make sure it’s not noticiable.

you sigh to yourself a bit when it’s over, upset at having to leave yujin. you start packing, but you stop when she starts talking to you again.

“oh my god, did you understand all of that?” you nod, trying to seem cool about the situation even though you are most definitely freaking out internally. “ugh, how? you should tutor me, like, i’m 100% serious. i’m really close to failing this class and i don’t know how my parents will react if i do.”

you’re pretty sure you completely stop breathing. tutoring yujin would mean spending time with her, alone. could you really trust yourself to do that?

“um, i could…” she stands up and you’re forced to look up at her since you’re still sitting. you suddenly feel even more nervous than before. “oh my god! really? that’d be amazing. i don’t have any smart friends. you’re my first.”

she just called you her friend.

this didn’t exactly what you want to be, but it’s a step in the right direction. “oh, that’s great!” you smile again and she giggles. “yeah! how about we hang out after school? you can try to explain whatever it is that the teacher was saying, and then we can just talk if you want.” you nod while still smiling, but you try to dissimulate how truly ecstatic you are.

“okay, can we meet at your house?” you nod again. “let me put my number in your phone.” you immediately hand your phone to her. you can’t believe she’s giving you her number. you quietly watch as she makes a contact for herself and hands your phone back. she took a selfie for her contact picture and named herself “yujin-ah🩷”

“let’s meet up outside the school gates after school, okay?” you nod for the hundredth time and she waves goodbye at you. you sloppily pack up as you realize how much time you and yujin spent talking after class.

the rest of the day goes by dismally slow. you sit through every class tapping your pen on your desk and shaking your leg. you blankly stare at the clock during your last class of the day, anticipating every move of the handle.

when the bell finally rings you almost hurt yourself getting up. you stuff all of your things into your backpack, which is very out of character for you. you hurriedly run outside and to the school entrance. you stand there, looking in every direction to see if yujin was coming.

“hey y/n!” she somehow sneaks up behind you and startles you. “oh, sorry.”

“no, don’t apologize, it’s okay.” you smile at her and stop her from bowing. “well, do you want to get going?” you nod and start walking away in front of her, but she links her arm in yours. you continue walking, but you can feel your cheeks and ears getting hot.

“am i being to forward, is that why you won’t talk to me?” you harshly turn your head towards her and furrow your brows. “no! not at all, i just don’t talk to a lot of people.” she stays silent for a few seconds. “oh. well, you can talk to me freely, seriously.”

“oh, okay.” you surprisingly talk the entire way to your house, taking her up on her word. sometimes you think you’re being too much, but they way she’s attentively looking at you encourages you to go on.

when you finally arrive at your house, you lead her inside and lock the door behind you. “i forgot to tell you my parents are at work, we’re alone.”

“that’s fine, i don’t mind.” you take her to the living room and ask her if she can unpack both of your supplies from your backpacks while you get a snack. she nods and you disappear into the kitchen, finally letting it sink in that she is at your house.

you take a few minutes to compose yourself before going outside with a few apple slices and drinks.

“are you ready?” she asks, lifting her eyebrows. you nod and sit down beside her.

you explain the material to her for about two hours before she decides she’s ready to give up for the day. she follows through with your agreement and just talks to you for a while. you listen to her every word very attentively. you’re still in awe that she’s treating you like this.

“it’s getting dark, i should probably head home.” you help her pack up and walk her to the front door. you try just waving goodbye, but she gives you a hug. you hug her back, smiling to yourself. “we should do this again!”

“yeah!”

and you did. you and yujin met up almost every day for the next month. your amazement died down after you got fully acquainted, but your crush has only grown stronger. now that you two are so close, you feel more immersed in her than ever. you’ve had to stop yourself from kissing her multiple times, and you can barely look at her without a vulgar thought popping into your head. will you ever be able to tell her?

“are your parents home?” she asks when she meets you at your usual spot outside the school. “yeah, they are.” you nod along with your sentence, curious about why she’d ask that. “can we go to my house today?” you find her second question stranger than the first, but you agree with her nonetheless. “awesome, let’s go.”

this is your first time going to yujin’s house. you wonder why she chose today, and if your parents being home influenced her decision. you brush it off, thinking she just feels like being alone.

she’s very quiet on the way to her house which is usually not how she acts. you’re both normally loudly laughing and making silly remarks on your walks after school. why is she acting so strange?

you get to her house and she pushes you inside, making you stumble a bit. you shoot her a ‘what the fuck’ look, but she’s facing away from you and locking the door.

“lets go upstairs.” she takes your hand and drags you up the stairs, not letting you respond. “where are your parents?” she doesn’t bother to look back at you.

“not here.”

a sudden thought pops into your head. the fact that she asked to go to her house because she knew her parents weren’t home is strange, what does she want to do? it can’t possibly be what you’re thinking. she just thinks of you as a friend, there’s absolutely no way.

she shoves you inside her room and turns around to lock that door as well. you giggle in confusion and somewhat fear. “are we doing some top secret studying, what’s going on?”

she drops her backpack on the floor and walks up to you to do the same to yours.

“we’re not studying, but it is top secret.”

with that, she grabs your face and crashes her lips into yours without a warning.

your mind stops working for a second and you just let yourself melt into the kiss. her lips feel infinitely better than you imagined. they’re smooth and pillowy, you can’t help but imagine how they’d feel elsewhere. you part your lips, allowing her to push her tongue inside your mouth. you try fighting her for dominance with your own, but she ultimately wins.

you can feel the slick running onto your underwear just from kissing her.

she only pulls away when you’re both gasping for air. “is this okay?” you respond by smiling and pulling her back in, wrapping your arms around her neck. “you’re so pretty. can you smile for me again?” you comply and she looks down at your shirt, slightly tugging at it.

“can i take this off?” you shamelessly nod and help her pull your shirt over your head. her hands land on your waist, pulling you closer to her. “have you ever done this before?” she brings her lips to your neck. “no…” she stops to look at you with a sickeningly sweet smile. “okay, i’ll be very gentle.”

she plants a kiss on your forehead and goes back to your neck. she leaves sloppy kisses and bruises all over it, earning soft moans from you. one of her hands moves to your back and unclasps your bra. you let it fall, but cover yourself with your hands.

“don’t cover up pretty girl, let me see.” she moves your arms out of the way and stares at your chest. your face turns red with embarrassment and she immediately notices. “don’t worry, there’s no need to be shy.”

she takes one of your breasts into her hand and pulls you in for another kiss with the other. you moan at the sensation of her hand on your tits, but also at the puddle forming on your underwear. you become hyperaware of the fact that she’s still fully clothed and whine out in frustration while pulling at her shirt.

“yujin-ah…” she quickly catches on to what you want and practically rips her shirt off. she lets you take off her bra and throws it on the ground. you stand frozen for a second, not knowing what to do next.

“do you want to touch?” you nod, but hesitate to bring your hands forward. she rolls her eyes with a smile and grabs them, placing them directly on top of her breasts. your face turns scorching once more, which earns another giggle from her.

“do you need me to guide you?” you nod again and she brings her hands to yours, making you caress her breasts. you let it happen, completely astounded at the fact that this is happening. you’re enjoying getting to touch her, but it’s just making you focus more on the wetness growing between your legs.

luckily, yujin notices how squirmy you’re being. “do you want to move on?” you respond to her verbally this time. “yes, please.” you see that same provocative smile spread across her lips, so you make an mental note of your response.

she unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the ground. she does the same to her underwear and you nearly faint. you’re completely sure you’re awake, but this still feels unreal. you watch the sway of her hips as she walks to the bed and sits down, beckoning you closer. you comply and walk in front of her.

she places her hands at either sides of your shorts and slightly tugs them down. “is this okay?” she pauses for a second but you give her your consent to keep going. she pulls your shorts and underwear off, leaving you completely bare. she holds onto your thighs and leans in to plant a soft kiss on your abdomen while looking up at you.

you twitch at the feeling of her lips and gasp a bit. she chuckles to herself and pulls you onto her lap. “i love making you so flustered, it’s so cute.” she leans in for another peck on the lips before moving on to your neck once again.

she uses one of her hands to massage your thigh and the other to do the same to your breasts. she continues marking you for a few minutes, making you whine out with her every move.

the hand on your thigh moves further up, stopping to ask you for permission. “can i touch you?” you remember her reaction to your previous response and answer in the same way. “mhm, please, yujin-ah.” she doesn’t need to hear another word before she brings her fingers to your core.

you let a loud moan escape your lips and hold on to her shoulders. you hear her breathing get shaky and wonder what’s wrong.

“you’re fucking soaked.”

your state is clearly eliciting a physical reaction from her because her hand feels shaky. “are you sure you want to keep going?” you whine in annoyance again and lift her face up to your own to give her a kiss.

“stop asking, please just go. ruin me, please.”

you don’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but yujin seems pleasantly surprised. “okay pretty girl, whatever you want.” she begins rubbing small circles on your clit and you immediately become a mess.

her lips land on your breasts, she sucks on them, leaving more red marks everywhere. you push her head farther into you, earning small laughs and witty remarks.

you feel a paralyzing knot building in your stomach and tighten your grip on yujin’s hair. her fingers speed up, sensing that you’re on the edge. her agility is impressive, you’re amazed that she’s not tired.

“yujin…” you whimper, causing her to detach from your chest and plant a kiss on your lips. “it’s okay. i’ve got you, go ahead.”

you feel the pressure release as soon as she finishes her sentence. you instinctively bury your face into her neck as your hips stagger to a stop. she keeps her fingers pressed against your clit, gradually slowing until you’re completely done.

“you were amazing, princess.” she strokes your hair, letting you calm down and regain your normal breathing pattern.

once you’re back to normal, she moves you out of her lap and onto the bed. she’s pushes you, making you fall on your back. she positions herself on top of you and bends down to kiss you.

“can you lift your leg for me?” you oblige without thinking about it, your mind is so foggy, you’d do anything she asked you for. “good job, you’re so good at following directions.” you feel the familiar heat return to your core with that sentence and become immediately impatient.

she brings one of her legs over yours which leaves her core hovering over your own. you think she’s going to let her hips fall, but she brings her face to your breasts again, continuing to tease you.

“yujin, no teasing. please, just sit.”

you push her face away from your chest to look at her in the eyes. she licks her lips and chuckles down at you. “you’re such a needy girl. you’re lucky i don’t feel like being mean.”

you mutter another ‘please’ at her and she finally gives you what you want. your hips jerk forward as soon as you come in contact with her core, which earns a small moan form her. you take her breasts in your hands without thinking about it, playing with them exactly like she showed you earlier.

her hips move at a steady pace. your legs twitch a bit every time her clit brushes against yours. you’re both extremely loud, you’re very thankful her parents aren’t home. she looks absolutely heavenly on top of you. you can feel yourself inching closer to the edge every time her eyes meet yours and she shoots you a smirk.

she leans back, resting on her hands. your own hands leave her breasts and go to her thighs. she speeds up and her pace becomes erratic.

you think she might cum first, but you suddenly feel a wave of ecstasy wash over you. you dig your nails into her thigh, causing her to whine out. she keeps the same sporadic pace going for a few seconds until she finishes as well.

you can feel her juices leaking out onto your folds and mixing with your own. her bangs are stuck to her forehead with sweat and the air around you feels thick. you’re both gasping as yujin halts her movements.

“did you like that?” she leans down to kiss you and whispers against your lips. “mhm.” you smile at her. “i love your smile so much.” she drags her thumb across your bottom lip and looks down at your chest. her eyes widen when she finally sees what she did.

“sorry i left so many marks.”

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Hey, love your work. Sooo, I was thinking, if it's ok, more actress reader and rockstar Sirius. Please, please, please. I'm obsess.

ty for ur request!! rockstar!sirius x actress!reader

You're listening to Sirius' new song —it's all you listen to, at this point— and don't hear the knock at your trailer door.

There's nothing to do but wait until you're needed again at costuming for more measurements, so you've sequestered yourself away to miss your boyfriend in private. Nails in front of you, you're humming the right words to the wrong verse, pushing your cuticles back with your thumb nail and wishing Sirius were here to tell you off.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?" he asks over your shoulder, the smell of his perfume sudden and heavy in your nose. He sounds pleased despite his scolding. "You'll be in so much trouble with makeup."

You bolt to your feet. One moment you're looking at him, the next you're throwing your arms around his shoulders, the silly foldout chair you'd been lounging in collapsing to the trailer floor with a thump.

"When did you get here?" you ask, practically shouting in his ear, your enthusiasm jolting him one side to another.

"You know I'm around," he says, which means, I came straight here.

"I missed you so much," you say, still happy, but with that desperate loneliness that pervades whenever he's gone.

You pull away to check he's real, and he is, and he's handsome, skin tanned by the eastern European sunshine, a golden nose ring glinting in the light. Stubble scratches your hands as you stroke his cheeks, your top lip as you lean up for a loving peck.

"You're really here," you say, stroking his hair behind his ears.

Sirius laughs and pulls your hands off of him, holding them tight in his, "Alright, don't smother me," he says, not without love. "You have very cold hands."

"You're meant to be holding them," you croon.

Sirius takes you in. You preen like a bird having combed all her feathers, knowing the genre of what he might say before he so much as parts his pretty lips. "You look beautiful, my love."

Cheesy from any other mouth, you flush at his praise and pull him closer to you, your stomachs touching, your chests angled apart.

He's been touring and you've been working; it's been a good long while since you got to hold his hand. He tries to come home to you as often as he can while you fly out city to city chasing him whenever you aren't contracted, but nothing feels as good as this —he's home. At least for a few months.

"I missed you," he says gently. "I know you already know that, but I really missed you." Sirius steals his hands away to wrap arms around your shoulders, face pressed to the top of your head. "I missed you. Missed you so much."

Your face fits nicely under his. Sirius might not believe in fate —it wasn't luck that sent you what must have amounted to thousands upon thousands of flowers, a bouquet every day for weeks, nor was it luck that had your thank you notes turning to love letters, the best of which he keeps in his jacket pocket— but you do, you have to, because you fit together perfectly.

"I missed you, too," you murmur.

"Can we run away, yet?" he asks.

"Maybe after reshoots, handsome."

Sirius takes your face into his hand and lays a heavy kiss on your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed, giggling as his kiss grows heated, insistent at the seam of your lips. You let him deepen the kiss but lean back in the circle of his arms at the pressure, pushed by his enthusiasm into the vanity behind you.

Bottles and brushes and things collapse. You laugh and break away from his kissing, peering over your shoulder at the mess you've made.

"It always looks like after an earthquake when you come to see me," you say, so in love that it sounds like a good thing.

Sirius kisses under your jaw firmly, the pendant hanging from his neck ghosting against your chest with his movement. "Won't matter if I make some more mess then, will it?" he asks between soft kisses.

"Just don't give me any bruises," you say as he mouths downward, weaving your fingers into his hair.

"Your makeup girls can cover it."

"But it's embarrassing," you laugh, tickled by his hand as it slides up the inside of your thigh. He squeezes the softness there greedily.

Sirius peels away, looking down at you like you've just spun silver in your bare hands. He wrote about it once, a song they never made, how the sound of you laughing from two rooms over made him feel homesick. How having you in arms reach was the only thing he really needed.

He looks reverential. You relent. "They can probably cover it," you say softly.

Sirius grins as he dives for your neck, another round of giddy laughter dying on your lips as he promises to show you how much he missed you.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black #rockstar!sirius #rockstar sirius black

568 notes · View notes

ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ sorry for the delay, too busy girlbossing hehehe I made a closet for the reader, here’s the link || Her Closet

Chapter 3: To Dance For You, To Die For You

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, depression, family angst, plot progression, long ass chapter, reader lore, underaged smoking.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

You || One hour ago

hey, u up already?

"… He sure is taking a while to answer."

You shut your phone with a click at the side, burying it down the sheets next to you.. "... I'm just gonna tell myself that he misses me so much, he can't put it to words."

You looked over to see the digital clock resting atop your nightstand, a bright 『 7:32 AM 』 gleaming right back at you.

… Maybe he’s still asleep.

It doesn’t take long before your attention drifts away from the subject. Unlike what Miles initially thought, you had priorities of your own. Sprawled before your table were books and notes you wrote all throughout your last lecture— neatly organized in pastels and glitters. You peered over the poorly written cursive, eyes cautiously and redundantly scouring through each word. Yet, despite the amount of time you've spent reading the paragraph, nothing at all entered your mind. That same suffocating scribble haunted you, and it sucked all the soul inside your body.

Saturday mornings.

Within the confines of your neat room, you still felt oddly and terribly exhausted. Which was ironic, as your routine was terrific as most would say. Ultimate Dream Girl was how your cousin put it. You woke up early, exercised, studied, ate good food, dressed in stylish clothes, went to school, and studied again after classes— and still, whenever you woke up every single day, you'd feel ultimately, and questionably exhausted.

It’s like you were sinking. Drowning even.

Yet you had to maintain your perfect, glamorous shell of a being. Even if it meant sleeping less these days.

But Miles took the boredom out of your humdrum life. Only he managed to tease out traits in you that even you didn't know existed— a bluntness paired with a foul mouth, and a sense of genuine lightness. He made you feel like your best self, and what was most ironic was the fact that your best self didn't have to be this talented, sophisticated, multi-achiever genius who managed to seamlessly shoulder adult matters— your best self just had to be happy.

And Miles made you genuinely, wholesomely, and incredibly happy.

Only Miles managed to eradicate the burden of carrying your family name. Around him, you were just you. A dumb, pretty teenager with a passion for art.

And that absolutely terrified you.

Peering over your books, spots of white shroud your vision. Like a feather, your head felt oddly light. You try to shake your head to refocus on the paragraph, only then you notice the blotches of red trailing down the page like splatters of paint.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your fingers cascade over your nose, only then noticing the bloody mess running down your lip. You cuss, bolting off your seat to grab the tissue box sitting above the vanity.

“Miss?” One of the maids called out from outside your door.

You drag the sheets of tissue over your nose, muffling your voice as you answered. “What is it?”

“Your tango practice will start soon. Would you like me to prepare your clothes?”

“.. That would be nice, thank you.”

As her footsteps echoed away, you lull your head down, hand gripping onto the edge of your table. It gushed out like an open faucet, and this hammering in your head had you kneeling down to the floor.

“Oh my God, what is that?”

“Quickly, take a picture.”

“Get moving, people.”

The endless wails of the siren. Deafening, unyielding, and alarming. What was once the symbol of hope, was now all that silenced New York.

The lights of red and blue emanated through the streets like a ghost. Those who watched whispered among themselves, turning their heads from the glares of the officers who’d circled the establishment. Above the sign stood what was once the glory of Senator Barlowe’s billboard— now trashed with a chilling message spray-painted in bloody red.

『　ＮＥＶＥＲ　ＦＯＲＧＩＶＥ．

ＮＥＶＥＲ　ＦＯＲＧＥＴ．』

The police figured to take down the board, ushering the media and the people away. Though you can never truly silence the people, the people only learn to talk quietly. It’s how the world works, Miles thinks. You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.

His figure appears above the buildings like the menace all of upperclass society viewed him as— the emblem of his chest shining brighter at the bottom of the billboard. A shameless warning from the vigilante. A warning for the oppressive, a threat for a threat.

An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

Miles dreamt of it: losing you the same way he lost his father.

An image of you dying in his arms. The stain of your blood in his hands, and the touch of your body growing colder. As he held you close in that illusion, he felt your heart slowly easing to an inevitable stop. There, Miles knew he couldn’t bear the thought of losing another person to the wickedness of the system.

So he plotted.

The digitalized purple of his mask gleamed in the foggy morning, the fingers of his gauntlet gripping on the empty can of red paint in his palms, crushing it with a single gritty grasp. Miles looked at his masterpiece, the image of the man’s face all painted in red. He figured to beat the old thing up himself, had he had the chance— but New York won’t change from the decision of one vigilante. The people have to wake themselves up, to untie the blindfold of fear around their eyes.

Because once that fear fully unfolds, it’s never going to blind you again.

You || Five hours ago

hey, u up already?

Still no reply.

"From the top in three, two, one!" Marks the start of the bandoneon.

Emerging from the band, you approached the center with steady, elegant steps. Your heels clack against the wooden floors, the hem of your dress tickling your ankles. Your hands gently glide down your body along to the dramatic rhythms of the orchestra. Across the room stood your partner, reaching a hand out while circling your presence— as if to admire your entirety.

"Step, step, step. Spin!" The choreographer bellows. The boy reaches for your hand and spins you into his arms, dipping you down. Your fingers paint the floor with one swipe, head down to feign shyness. When you're brought back, your hand glazes down his cheek, stepping back with his arm wrapped around your waist.

"Keep your head high, shoulders back!"

In the passion of the tango, your grace was your skill— yet your indifference was your detriment.

Your hand steadily grips his shoulder, each step like a tease in average courtship. In the midst of the music, your head's riddled with a million thoughts. With each passing thought, your moves become harsher, and meaner.

Grip tighter, moves sadder.

With each pass of the violin, the knot in your mind tangles and tangles. While gawking into the stage light above, you shut your eyes tight to shield your view. And when your partner's fingers brush against the curve of your waist— you think of Miles.

The memory of his grip on you was forever ingrained in your mind. And when you turn around once more, suddenly, in your hazy mind, Miles stands before you, holding your hand above your head to ready you for a twirl.

In the delusion of your comfort, a sense of ardency replaced your indifference.

Madame Eleanor marveled at the view of the spark before her, glowing like a vibrant vermillion.

But as the final pose commenced, you were disappointed to see a pair of blue eyes instead of Miles' brown ones.

"Perfect!" Eleanor gasps, her hands clasped together with a clap. "Finally! My goodness, how astounding."

You awkwardly pull away from your partner, your body drenched in sweat. Eleanor approaches you with a smile too wide for her cheeks. "That was amazing, dear. All four weeks of practice finally paid off." She sighs, placing a hand over your shoulder. "You dance just like your mother."

The words were harmless initially, but to you it was anything but praise.

You fake a smile. "Thank you."

"I think we've done enough today. Let's wrap it up and call it a day. Great job, everybody!"

Only then the burden was eased off your shoulders. Immediately, you walk towards the bench to reach for your backpack. You dip your hands inside to fish out for your phone, a variety of notifications written across the screen.

Despite the many notifications and boxes your phone bore, you endlessly scrolled down in search of one name and one name only.

Miles || 7 minutes ago

ye im up sorry ab that

kinda busy rn

what time r u gonna go btw

You look around in search of the clock, girl-mathing your way to fix your schedule.

You || Just now

maybe around 6?? idk yet, hold on

nvm maybe around 6:30 to 7:30

You had a lot on your plate, and though you were full, you still have to devour all of what's on there.

Before you could even shut your phone, Miles' text bubble suddenly pops up.

Miles replied to you || Just now

js be on time

[Y/n] replied to you || Just now

damn u must miss me sm ;)

Miles looked over his phone from behind the screen of his mask— allowing it to unfold as he hid behind the brick walls above the roof, sinking down to the floor in exhaustion. Even then, he felt utterly warm just from the sight of your message alone. With a single press, he slips his hand off from the gauntlet just to hold his phone better.

He lolled his head sidewards, pondering over what to reply.

『 so what if i do?| 』

His thumb brushes against the send button, mind in complete tatters.

"... Hey." His head perks up at the sound of his uncle's voice. "What’chu doin lyin around? Get yo punk ass up, we’ve got lots to do."

"Y-Yeah, sorry." He stammers, slipping his phone into his pockets.

You glare at the screen before you.

「 Seen two hours ago 」

Well, fuck damn it, Miles. If you don’t miss me, might as well just say it. Does the G in your name stand for Ghoster or what?

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snap away from the abyss when the sound of your brother’s voice pulls you back to reality. The smoke exits your tongue as your eyes go past the black screen, welcoming the sight of your brother’s frustrated glare. His mere presence was an annoyance to you— as he was always scourging through your work like an animal desperate for scraps. It was pathetic. Despite all that, the both of you still managed to live under one roof.

It was your most common hobby to hang around the balcony to drink whatever beverage you felt like drinking. And at this time of autumn, hot cocoa was your most preferred drink, paired with any pastry you craved. As miserable as you were, you preferred suffering in your wealth. After all, it was yours to keep.

And yet despite your efforts to unwind, your pest of a brother suddenly appears like an unwanted guest.

“Can you stop smoking?” He pleads. In spite of his cries, you take another hit and blow. Antonne only gives up with a disgruntled groan.

“Did you see my message?”

“I did.”

“… Why didn’t you reply?”

“I did reply.” You pulled the mug to your lips. “I replied with silence.”

“You’re insufferable.” He clicks his tongue, sitting before you. Even then, you spare no time to even glance at him. Your other hand traces past the notes you’ve written over the documents, fingers flipping through the pages for a triple-check. Antonne stretched his neck, taking a peek at the title, and yet, you rest your palm over the private contents decisively.

“What do you want?” The sentence comes off too harshly for your own liking, yet it doesn’t shake you. Antonne insists.

“I want us to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

The mug clicks against the marble table as if to mark the end of your words. Antonne clasped his hands together, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. “I know it’s a difficult task, but direly, [Y/n], in all seriousness, you’re not inheriting the hotel.”

“I already know all that.” You interject. “And I still won’t drop my responsibilities.”

“What for?” He queries. “You’re bound for a life outside of all this mess— why do you keep bringing yourself into this life?”

You clamp your fist.

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

Antonne sat there, all the words in his mouth vanishing— leaving only a speechless, baffled face of himself that only worsened your mood. For a moment, his jaw hangs open, his mind ravaging through his thoughts to form a sentence.

“I don’t understand. Why— why are you doing this?”

For a moment, the thought of bursting crosses your mind, though right after the thought followed this shame of vulnerability. After all that, the only words that exited your mouth were,

“You would never be able to understand.”

“Can’t you at least—“ Antonne huffs, running a hand through his hair. “[Y/n], if this is about what happened to mother—“

“Mention her one more time, I dare you.”

Ruthless. A familiar air. You were too much like your father, and it was the most tragic thing. “It’s true, isn’t it?” He chokes out, knuckles growing paler from the grit of his wrist. “All this, all of what happened, you’re—“

“I have a meeting with dad.” You stand up, picking your things together. “Go find someone else to plague with your questions.”

“You’re irredeemably suffocating.”

“We’re siblings for a reason.”

Miles || Just now

im On my way!

wtf is that autocorrect

i meant to say im omw

im just gonna pick up something for a moment

The bell sang a soft chime upon his entrance. The warm air welcomes him, with a fire behind the bars of a furnace, and the smell of freshly baked goods and hot chocolate permeating throughout the establishment. Miles felt the chill of autumn roll off his gloved hands, embracing the warmth that felt very much like you. He peers over the aisles of bookshelves lined up before a fake brick wall, picturing the idea of sitting next to you with your nose buried into some novel, allowing him to lean his head over your shoulder to listen to you whisper about some paragraph.

He wanders and wanders, taking note of the chalk-written menu above the cashier, the half-eaten pies beneath glass domes, and the homely pictures of the owner’s life story hung all across the walls.

Next to the counter, a lone, middle-aged woman stood with a mug and a rug in her hands. Her blue eyes flit open— and it reminds him of the dull grey he often witnessed during a heavy downpour, and she acknowledged him with a single nod.

“Afternoon.”

Miles returns the gesture. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

His steps take him closer to the counter. It must’ve been suspicious somewhat— him, who was dressed in tones of dark purple and black like some thief, standing by the entrance for far too long. Miles had to admit, his presence was unbefitting of this whole cozy theme, and yet when he imagines you there with him, suddenly, he didn’t feel all too out of place anymore.

Miles looked at the woman, only then recognizing her from the pictures on the wall. Instead, now, she’s aged past her prime, and her blonde hair was shorter and frizzier. Her eyes were now tucked behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, having to squint just to study his presence.

“I-I just had to ask..” Miles gulps. “Are you guys perhaps.. Hiring r’now?”

“Hiring?” The woman raised a brow. “Why? You wanna apply?”

“Oh no! Not me,” He frantically explained. “I-I’m inquiring after my girl— my girlfriend.”

Embarrassment bled into his freckled cheeks. Initially, he wanted to say the two terms, girl and friend, separately to explain you were just that (But were you, really?), instead the unsure label clumsily exited his lips.

Then again, it’s not like you’d correct him had you been there anyways.

“Your girlfriend?” The woman placed a hand over her hip, a southern sort of twang in her voice. “Why isn’t she the one asking me?”

“Oh— it’s just, she’s really busy, and I know she really likes this place.. God… Idonreallyknowhowtoexplainitbut,” She held a hand up to ease his pace, shaking her hand. “Hold on, lover boy. I can’t understand a single damn thing, hold your horses.”

Miles nibbled on his lower lip, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Basically, she mentioned about wanting to apply here but couldn’t find the time to ask, so just in case her schedule clears up, I wanted to know if you guys are up to hiring part-timers… So I can tell her.” He managed to explain in a much calmer way, watching carefully as the owner hummed.

“So you only really wanna ask?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, alright.” For a moment, she bends down to reach something beneath the counter. A second or two later, she stands right back up, slipping a crisp flyer towards him. “All the details are in there. If she wants to apply, tell her to call for me— the name’s Matilda, and you’re?”

“Miles, a-and my girlfriend’s name is [Y/n], by the way.” Miles beams, picking up the paper. He liked repeating that word, girlfriend.

“Alright, Miles. I’ll wait for your little girlie.”

“Thanks a lot.”

Looking over to the glass domes, Miles then added.

“Also, can I get like a slice of each pie you have?”

You || fifteen minutes ago

I’m already here

where the fuck are you smh

“One, two, three… Spin.”

Miles shuts the chain door behind him, eyes rummaging through the darkness in search of the voice’s owner. At the end of the hall, a dim light emerged along with a shadow dancing over the golden circle just behind a wall. The dark figure moved like a ghost, each step of her feet echoing throughout the subway. The boy neared like a moth to flame, holding the box of pies close to his chest as he neared and neared.

Slowly, he peeks over the wall, only to find you dancing along to something he couldn’t comprehend. You had your phone in your hand, and your headset on too. A count was on your lips, lasting in intervals of three to eight. Your steps were like pulses, and the way you had your hands up meant that it was likely a partnered dance, despite the evident gap, you carried the dance effortlessly well, even in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. You were too lost in the flurry of the Latin music that was melting into your ears like honey, and Miles was too lost in the sight of you. There he was, gawking like a little kid on Christmas day, with his lips half parted and eyes following the traces of your fingers.

He’d already known you were something of a dancer. The way you carried yourself, the way you walked, and the way you moved, Miles noticed it all; A sort of grace, or some sort of flow in the way you presented yourself.

Like a princess, little girls would say.

Yeah, like a princess. My princesa.

Only then, you twirled and met his gaze. You froze in terror as Miles placed his hand over your shoulder.

Do it, Miles! You can do it! Just like what Uncle Aaron taught you.

“Heyy…”

“… WHAT THE FUCK!”

Your phone comes flying out of your hands, landing straight into Miles’ abdomen with a powerful thud. He catches the gadget with a groan of pain and laughter, which comes out as a dying wheeze. You rush to his aid, pulling the box out of his grasp and placing it down.

“Holy shit! Are you okay? Why the fuck were you standing there like a fucking skincrawler— fucking hell, Miles!” You endlessly cussed, aiding him by the arm.

“… I couldn’t help it.” He heaved. “You looked like one of those inflatable tube dancers, jesus— HAHAHAHAHA“ And he’s back to howling in your face all over again, falling to the floor like a duck in search of air. You click your tongue and swat his shoulder.

“I bet you can’t even dance.”

“Yeah, that makes the both of us.”

“Oh I hate you so much.” You shove him lightly before burying your face behind your hands.

“… Why were you dancing anyway?” Miles eased, eyeing the darkness. “And why didn’t you turn on the lights? The whole damn scene looked kinda apocalyptic.”

You knelt next to him, nails digging into the fabric of your jeans. “Well, I kinda have this tango performance at school and it’s in two weeks… I’m still not all that confident with what I’m about to present, so I’ve been working my ass off to perfect it.” You waved your hand around. “And about.. This... I couldn’t find the damn switch.”

He shakes his head in disapproval, placing his arm over his knee. “God, you’re hopeless.”

You tilt your head, lowering your voice into a whisper. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“…. I can dance tango.” He dumbly grins. “I think— I mean, I’ve watched it before, and I’m hella great with my feet.”

“Is that a proposal to dance with me?”

Miles scoffed. “In your damn dreams.” He laughs, leaning his head over to the wall. There, you pout at him like some little kid.

“What? Why are you lookin at me like that?”

And the next thing he knows, he’s up with his chest pressed against yours, listening to the sound of your voice guiding him through the basic steps of the Latin dance. He takes your other hand in his, while your other is latched onto his shoulder. Carefully, his fingers creep up on your waist, the sensation silencing him.

“And then when I step back like this, you take your left foot forward, and we’re just going to do this back and forth.”

“Oh— okay, oh shit,”

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“Just think of it as a game, and follow my feet.”

Miles readily follows your words, uttering subtle apologies whenever he’d step on one of your feet. When he does get the eventual gist of it, the two of you prance around in short steps. Miles grew overly conscious with the sound of his breath, as you were too near that it was detrimental to his whole being. With your head down, you carefully watched his moves, completely anonymous to Miles’ staring. He was hoping you’d look up and catch him like you always do. You were so pretty like that.

“Very good.” You beam. “Damn, you really do dance well, huh?”

“Of course I do.” He clumsily twirls you into his arms, still catching you either way. “I got it from my mama.”

“I assume she’d be a greater dancer than you, though.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true.” He admits. “But hey, ain’t I a good partner?”

As you turned around once more, your faces inch closer, your lungs a little too short of breath. Your hand traces down the outlines of his arms, the tension between the both of you thickening. You could almost sense it, Miles begging you to give in, and you were bound to— eventually.

“Yeah, you’re doing great.”

Then again, you pull away, fingers brushing past and slipping away from his palm. Although you were the one distancing yourself, your hand reached out for his. You tried to fool yourself into thinking that it was just for the dance— but when you circle him, and when you notice that Miles couldn’t help but face your figure, no matter where it went— you were defenseless. He looked at you like you were the eclipse, a shadow that capered around the flashlight’s gleam like how the moon would collide with the sun. You swivel back into his grasp, and you couldn’t care less if it was anything but perfect, because it was only at that moment that you recognized tango in its truest form.

And it was through this dance that Miles realized he’d absolutely die for you.

As the ending commences, the two of you smile at one another. Miles, who grinned at you so lovingly, could hardly see the rue in yours. “You ain’t half bad.” He then states, easing a crack out of his limbs as he stretches. “That was some ground-breaking exercise, shit, I started feelin shit I ain’t never felt before.”

“Yeah,” You tiresomely added. “God, now I’m starving.”

His head perks up. “Actually, I brought some food today.”

“Oh?”

He gestured over to the box. “I bought like a fuck ton of pies for my mom to cheer her up.” Miles picked up the box, offering it to you with a nudge. “You can get only two.”

As he slips the lid off, you marvel at the pastries inside, mouth watering from the smell.

“This one’s butterscotch, blueberry, apple.. Chocolate and banana, pumpkin, and cherry… The fuck are you doing?”

Miles watched as you positioned your phone above the box, angling it well. “Taking a picture, dumbass.” You shot back. The flashlight gleams over the food with a quick snap. “Shit, it looks so pretty.”

“Okay, you ain’t eating shit.”

“Wait!”

You point the camera at him. “Pose in three, two, one.”

And he pulls up his middle finger with a blank face.

“Tsk. Not like that, Miles.”

And he pulls up his pointer finger, turning his pose into a peace sign.

As the photo snaps, you immediately look into your phone’s album, grinning stupendously wide. “Pretty boy, indeed.”

“.. Why’d you keep calling me that?”

“Because you’re pretty. I like pretty things and pretty people.” You answered as though it were too obvious. Miles shook his head, hardly saying another word. Yet in his mind, he couldn’t help but ponder.

But you’re prettier than me.

“Now, which one should I eat?” You pondered with a tune, eyeing each slice. “They all look so good.. God! Okay, I’ll take butterscotch, and uh, the chocolate and banana one.” You cautiously tug the wrappers to pull out each of the treats. Miles couldn’t help but playfully deride. “You choose like a kid.”

“Just because I chose the chocolate one means I’m a kid.”

You take the flashlight and place it down the floor before taking a seat. Miles follows suit, sitting beside you with his chin resting above his palm, unconsciously watching you devour the treat with your cheeks full like some chipmunk. You hummed with each bite, going on about how you adored the flavor. Even as you did so, Miles listened and stared, adoring the way you spoke and the way you boasted about the flavors. Then and there, he realized how much he liked seeing you eat, and at that moment as well, Miles knew he’d like to eat with you everyday in the far future.

As you finished your little meal, you licked the chocolate off your fingers, anonymous to the stain on your cheek.

“You got a little sum on your..” He points at the corner of your lip. You try to wipe it off, yet it simply smudges. His fingers naturally reach for your chin to clean it off. You lean in, not thinking much about the act.

“Is it gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.” You sweetly beam.

Slowly, his fingers lift away from your chin.

You lean your head against the wall, heaving a short sigh. “That was absolutely delicious.”

“I bought it from that store we saw yesterday, down the block.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and uh,” He slips his hand into his pocket, fishing out the folded flyer. Hesitantly, he hands it over to you. “I got you something.”

“What’s this?” You airily query, unfolding the paper. You browsed into its contents, only then realizing that it was a part-timer flyer. Your jaw hung open, eyes switching glances between the contents and the boy beside you. “Wh-where did you get this?”

“I asked the owner.” He directly answered. “You wanted to know if you could.. Get a part time job, so I asked.”

“I—“ The mere act rendered you speechless. “Oh my god. This is… Why are you so nice to me?”

Miles’ head turns away. “I’m not being nice. I wanted to apply too.” He smoothly lied. “I got you a flyer just in case.”

【 Emilie Chocolat — We are now hiring! Open positions for: bookkeep, barista, cashier. Accepts part-timers. Must be at least fifteen years old. 】

“Oh, I don’t know if I could apply right now.”

“Why not?”

You chew on your inner cheek, cautious of your words. “I don’t really have the time to go to an interview right now. I’m very busy with school.. And at home..”

“Then go when you have the time.”

You think about it. “… Alright. I’ll try. Not entirely sure yet, but I’ll try.”

“Take your time.” Miles mildly suggested, as if to comfort. “You have all the time in the world, man.”

“… Yeah.”

You’d like the think his words were true. When it came to Miles, you find yourself a little too optimistic— a parallel of your usual self. You’d joked to yourself every now and then, that if the world was ending and Miles would tell you that there’s a cure, you’d believe him. And it wasn’t that you were easy to fool, no, it wasn’t that at all. You were quite smart, as mentioned by all those who watched you grow up, but since Miles’ entry into your life, you started optimistically letting things fall into place before scheming.

You didn’t know what to call it. Calling it infatuation was underwhelming for you. To say you simply like him didn’t feel enough.

Though you didn’t want to admit it too quick.

That’s how your mother fell anyway.

“Do you think,” You huff. “Do you think I can do it?”

Miles straightened his lips. “You probably can. You’re smart.”

You roll your eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Ion think someone dumb can lie so well about having band practice just to see someone at night.”

“I don’t lie often, Miles,” Your head lilts. “I lie only for you.”

“… By that, does lying to me also count?”

You don’t know how to answer. You can feel his expectant stare burning into your skin.

“…. It’s not about lying to you. There are just some things I prefer not to say.”

Your head pivots, finally earning the strength to look him in the eyes. Before he could even speak, you already knew what he was going to say. You knew him too damn well.

“If that’s the case, can I ask you about somethin?”

As you’re about to open your mouth, he holds up a finger.

“Don’t try to run away this time, and don’t lie. You’ve gotta swear on it.”

You raise your hand. “On God, I won’t lie nor will I try to run away.”

He brokenly nods, taking in a deep breath.

“… Then, who– who am I to you?”

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espinosaurusrexex · 7 months

Text

Give Me a Chance (2)

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader | SteveRogers x Female!Reader

summary: (post body switch) When Bucky finds out about your and Steve's secret, you have to find a way to deal with the aftermath of your slip-up.

a/n: I couldn’t help myself, and there will probably be another, (smutty) part coming 👀

word count: 3.2k

warnings: Steve is still pining, Bucky gets mad, reader is torn, just a whole bunch of drama, fluff, angst, injuries, swearing, allusions to smut - !MINORS DNI!

*✫ 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*

THEN

Steve had tried. He had sat down for several days in his - Bucky’s - room and he had tried to stop himself from being stupid. He had done everything short from locking himself in until the issues were resolved.

At least that’s what he told himself.

But somehow he had found himself back at your door again. It had only been a week. A week of his kissing you, touching your body, and being as close as only his wildest dreams had ever imagined being. A week since he bolted without explanation and ignored you. But it was impossible.

Impossible not to think about you, impossible not to imagine the way your soft fingers curled around his neck when you moaned into his ear, impossible not to want every piece of that moment back in his hands.

Steve adjusted his pants at the thought, the admonition of his betrayal seeping to the back of his mind with every second he spent not thinking about you. It was only a whisper now, a faint suggestion that bothered him like a task undone - a grocery run, a report to finish.

Except, it was so much more than that. It was the century-long relationship with his best friend balancing on the edges of free fall. His honor, his pride, and everything he believed in and stood for. But for some inexplicable reason, he would gladly push it off the cliff for a second longer in your presence.

His fist lifted to knock, but then he hesitated and wrapped his fingers around the door handle.

“Hey, baby,” you smiled at him, towel wrapped tightly around your body and another patting your hair dry. Your skin was glowing with the evening light reflecting on the sheen coat of water on your body, more drops rolling down your chest until they accumulated in your soft towel.

Steve swallowed thickly, his cock straining in his jeans. He didn’t think you’d leave your door unlocked when you were basically naked. This certainly made his plans to just spend time with you more difficult.

“Are you feeling better?” Your hand came up to cup his cheek and softly stroked over the stubble.

“Yeah...” His voice was hoarse from your closeness, a dazed look settling on his face when you touched him. He had told you he wasn’t feeling well the other day - it had bought him a couple days without running into you after assuring you he was okay and just needed some alone time.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” You kissed his cheek and Steve’s face heated up. Then he smiled and watched as you discarded your towels on the chair by your vanity, searching for some clothes in a low drawer.

Steve swallowed again. The way your body bent at the waist, the perfect curve of your ass in the position, skin still dampened and smooth. Another shoot of pleasure made him hide his bulge behind his hands.

“You know, I was thinking about what you said before you went on the last mission. And, so, I talked to Wanda today and she told me about this cute–“ You turned around to him and stopped. “Bucky are you listening?” You smiled but there was worry in your eyes. You approached him again and Steve shifted in his stance. “Are you...” You looked him up and down and then a sly grin replaced your worried frown. “Since when are you hiding boners from me?”

Steve didn’t know what to do. Since I’m Steve! He wanted to shout, but his mouth didn’t open. Instead, he just stood there awkwardly, not able to move, his eyes still glued to you and your perfect body.

“I–“ But you cut him off by moving his hands away.

“What’s going on with you?” A wicked smile spread on your face when your hands began to replace his and you moved even closer to him. Your naked breasts were pressed up against his chest when you leaned up to him.

Steve closed his eyes when warmth spread from his cock to his stomach. You were driving him insane, and he began to relax and fall a little further into your embrace. He was addicted to your touch, just an inch of your body on his and he would surrender to anything you said.

“I’m not complaining, it’s cute. But I’m curious,” your hand danced up his arm, your mouth gifting small hot kisses to his neck and Steve sighed defeatedly. He touched your waist, tenderly squeezing your side when your other hand teased the waistband of his jeans. “Why so shy, Sergeant?”

And instantly, the tension in his shoulders returned. He stepped back and carefully yet certainly pushed you away from him.

Steve wasn’t a sergeant - Bucky was.

Shit.

“I need to go.” God, Steve hated himself for being like this. But he couldn’t bring himself to go further. Even if his body was yearning for you, every fiber of his being reached out to you, but he willed it silent.

You reached out to him again and Steve took another step back. “Bucky,” your voice broke a little, “Are you really okay?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly, slightly lightened by being truthful for once. His heart was aching for you, his fingers itching to get your warm skin beneath them again, but his head was screaming at him to leave.

“Talk to me... please.” Your eyes were glossy, your face so worried for him. Except it wasn’t for him. It was for Bucky. And Steve never thought he would feel this way ever, but at that moment, he really hated being Bucky Barnes - the man who had the most perfect woman worrying after him but who was caging himself in misery under Steve’s control.

He shook his head sadly as he backed to the door. “I am so... so sorry.” Steve dared to look you in the eyes one last time and then walked through the door.

NOW

Steve pushed at his crotch and shook his head at the memory flashing in his mind. He tried to focus on his report, but your laugh was echoing through the halls as Bucky chased after you and past his office door.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky pushed you against the wall with his hands on your hips, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Can’t you wait until we’re inside?” You moaned as he sucked on your sweet spot, your hands instantly reaching up to bury in his hair. He was too good at it. The moment his lips reconnected with your skin the world around you seemed forgotten. He could make you shed your clothes right in the hallway with Steve’s open door only feet away.

Steve...

You thought of him and your heartbeat slowed a little. It had been a week since you found out about the incident, and it had only been a day since you had decided to forgive Bucky and Steve for not telling you. And it had been two weeks since you had made out with your boyfriend’s best friend.

But the weirdest part was, you felt almost indifferent to your unintentional semi-cheating. Well, indifferent might have been the wrong word for it. More like... it didn’t feel wrong. Which was honestly a horrible thing to say or even think. But you couldn’t deny that there had always been a strong connection between you and Steve and your memory becoming stuck on the small moment you had gotten to spend with him just showed you what kind of connection it really was.

Steve had liked you for a while - at least according to Natasha - and Bucky had also dropped a few comments about his best friend’s fondness for you. You never took it seriously though. Never paid it any mind. Because you had Bucky and you loved him, and you didn’t want to ruin a great friendship with Steve... or the decade of devotion he and your boyfriend shared.

But - damn - ever since the day you found out in Bruce’s lab, you couldn’t keep your mind off the way he kissed you. The way he had caressed you, and touched you in ways that now very clearly showed how much he was not taking you for granted. Not that Bucky did... but his touch had become familiar by now. Steve’s was - thinking back in it now - new, and excited a part in your body that had long been quiet.

Bucky guided you past the threshold of your room. His hands were all over your body, grabbing and palming until you felt dizzy from the way his tongue licked wet hot strokes up your neck.

The last time you’d kissed him in here, he had been Steve. Steve who had visibly fought with his own mind not to cross another line with you and his best friend.

Your emotions became sandy, every kiss of Bucky’s splitting into grainy flashbacks of Steve’s but, to your surprise, it just added to the pleasure building in your body.

Your hand grabbed for Bucky, desperate for something to hold on to, hot breath fanning past your skin when he moaned at the slight pull you did to his hair.

The door closed with a thud and seconds later, you were pressed against it. Your shirt had gone off somewhere between moans and kisses and your hands were working to remove Bucky’s already.

When it was off, he pressed his body to yours, caging you in his being. Stuck between hot skin and cool wall, you felt his legs next to yours. And kiss-drunk as he made you, you moved one of your feet between his.

“Please...” Your plea got swallowed in another hot sigh.

“Please what, princess?” Bucky mumbled to your skin, his hands now squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples and pulling grasp after gasp from your lips.

“Do it again, please.” You pushed up against his thigh until the familiar friction shot bolts of pleasure up your body. A hazy slump overtook you as Bucky smiled into your neck, seemingly enjoying the way you got off on his thigh.

“You like that, doll?”

“Yes!” You lulled in pleasure, your head falling forward and into his chest. “Feels so good, Steve.” You moaned and immediately whined when Bucky retracted his body from yours.

“W- what?” You shook out of your trance. But Bucky just stared at you, an unintelligible expression on his face.

You couldn’t quite make it out. Confusion, worry, intrigue, maybe even a hint of amusement. But he stayed quiet.

“What did you just say?” His voice was husky and you couldn’t tell if it was from the heated moment just seconds prior or another reason.

“What did I say? Did I say something wrong?”

“You called me Steve.” And just like that, your heart dropped its excitement, a shiver replacing the steady thumb of it until you were fully back in the room.

Shit. Fuckingshitfuck.

“I- I didn’t mean to... I’m so sorry. I just- we have been talking about the switching thing all day and I–“ Bucky held up his hand, his eyes turning dark. Only a glimmer reached you when he stormed past you and opened the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky wasn’t stupid. He knew something had been off with Steve. And he also knew that his best friend had had eyes on you the moment you stepped into the compound. He just didn't think Steve’d go for you without his permission. And while Bucky was trying to fix their situation that was.

Before all this, Bucky might have considered letting him join in on the fun he had with you, but right now? He just wanted to smash his best friend’s head through a window.

There had been several tests to their friendship throughout the years. One of them - perhaps the most challenging one - being the Winter Soldier and his almost killing Steve, but this... it was all past them. They had agreeably opened a new chapter of their life and for Steve - prideful and righteous Mr. America - to go and betray him like this just punched another bruise in Bucky’s ego.

Nostrils flared and fists clenching at the sides, Bucky stomped down the hallway to the already open office door. The anger just kept building up until it was boiling over after the short walk.

Steve shot up from his chair, sending it flying backward when he noticed his best friend standing in the doorway - fuming.

“You kissed her didn’t you?” Bucky spat at him, his feet taking him forward until Steve was forced to take a step back.

“I what?” His blue eyes were wide, almost timid but stoic nevertheless. Bucky could see that scrawny Brooklyn kid buried within them - scared, but not willing to back down - reckless.

...and an idiot.

“Don’t even act stupid.” Spite licked up the brunette's neck in hot flames. It wasn’t necessarily that somebody touched you that agitated him - you could defend yourself fairly well - it was that it was Steve and without saying a word.

He could have talked to him, he could have asked, he used to tell him everything.

Steve was swallowing hard, the lack of height difference and build did nothing to make Bucky seem less intimidating. He was ready to kill someone, and Steve just happened to be the closest jackass around right now.

Still, the blonde stayed silent.

Unbelievable. The nerve he had to act innocent when he had Bucky’s girl moaning Steve’s name when Bucky had found a new way to pleasure her... Yeah, that stung.

After a while, Steve averted his eyes, the guilt seeping through them almost reaching Bucky. Though he wouldn’t give in, still.

“Where’d you kiss her huh?” He pushed his shoulders. “Her lips, her neck?!” Steve kept stumbling back until he hit the desk and sent a couple pens tumbling to the ground.

But he didn’t say a word. Which, in Bucky’s eyes, just fed into his guilt.

“I bet you jerk off to the memory of it still. God, you’re so pathetic.” Steve gasped nearly inaudibly. And Bucky almost regretted what he had said if he didn't believe it to be true. The person speaking right now wasn’t he. At least not the ‘he’ Bucky wanted to ever see the light of day.

“Bucky..” Steve swallowed thickly but trailed off without saying another word. The blonde's Jaw clenched as his eyes looked anywhere but his best friend’s face.

“Did you touch her too?” Bucky pushed further. The Desk prevented Steve from backing away anymore but Bucky would gladly pull him across it to prove his point. “Huh? Did you put your filthy hands on her and made her moan, made her come?”

That’s when Steve suddenly sprung to life again. His eyes wide and his hands falling he shook his head. “No, I-“

“Fuck, I knew you liked her but I didn’t think you’d betray me like that.”

“Bucky listen-”

“No you listen! She’s mine! You can’t just take what’s mine. Even when you are me! She’s not yours! She doesn’t want you. You weren’t oh mighty Captain America when you had her. You were me! She wants me!” Bucky blinked away his tears before Steve’s annoying stare could catch them, his heart hammering in his chest as he heaved before his friend. “She’s mine.” It was only a whisper now that Bucky was yet again reminded of his best friend’s betrayal.

Nobody would take you away from him. The fire reignited in him and Bucky fixed his posture again.

“Get that through your thick skull,” he tapped Steve’s forehead only to have the blonde swat his hand away and take a step forward.

“Didn’t seem that way when she moaned in my arms-“

“You bastard!” Bucky lunged forward, landing a punch to Steve’s facet emphasizing every word he spat at him.

“Don’t.” punch “Touch.” punch “What’s.” another “Mine.” And one more for good measure. But as Bucky swung back his fist, he felt another, much softer hand holding him back.

“Stop it right now!”

❁ ❁ ❁

You squeezed between the men the second Bucky turned to you. Back pressed to Steve’s chest and Bucky’s wrist still in your hand you watched as your boyfriend’s gaze softened ever so slightly under all the rage covering his features.

You stared at him, waiting, not quite sure what to say to him. Because you cared too much for either of them. And you were scared to actually tell Bucky how much you wanted them both. It’s wasn’t fair to him or Steve. And it was a shit move from your stupid fucking heart. And it seemed like Bucky knew that.

He was still breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring as his eyes swayed between you and Steve behind you. The tension, if even possible, rose and you could see it on his face - the way the vein popped on his forehead and his jaw wired shut.

He would never hurt you, you knew that, which was why you didn’t move an inch away from Steve, too afraid he’d take another hit for something you were just as responsible for.

An awfully long silence overtook the room. You hated it, and every second of that utterly hurt look on Bucky’s face and Steve’s heavy breaths behind you.

“Fuck this!” It suddenly burst out of the man in front of you. Bucky yanked his arm out of your grasp with a scornful look and stomped out into the hall.

You stood and watched until the sound of his angry footsteps disappeared and a lonely tear ran down your face. It was awful seeing him like this, angry and helpless - defeated almost. But you finally felt like breathing again.

“You didn't have to do that.” Steve’s voice was raspy, his gaze trained on the ground when you turned around to him.

Your hand wandered to his cheek, a careful thumb stroking his skin as your eyes locked on the split lip and the bruise already forming beneath his eye. I did, you wanted to say but stopped yourself just in time.

“Are you okay?” It passed over your lips as you tried to catch his gaze. But Steve’s stare was focused on the door Bucky had just left through. “Steve,” you tried again and tilted his head downward until he finally looked at you.

You could only imagine what he felt like. Much like you, the relationship he had with Bucky was intimate and strong. He was probably just as torn between running after him and staying close to you as you were. And you hated that Steve struggled just as much.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he reiterated, almost trance-like, and for some reason you understood his reaction too well.

You pulled him into a hug after checking him over one more time and then muffled a relieved ‘just say thank you’ into his chest when you realized Bucky hadn’t gotten too rough on him.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve felt his muscles relax once your arms encased him. Hell, he’d relaxed the second you came in to protect him like his knight in shining armor. And even though you quite obviously knew that he liked you by now, he hoped you didn’t feel his heart hammering in his chest when you leaned into him.

Careful hands reached up to place on your back, aware of the last time he’d done so with far different intentions. Steve willed himself to have them glued to one place, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he closed his eyes briefly and took a second to forget about all the new troubles that had just arisen.

When he opened them again, they locked with all too familiar blue ones right across the room. A spiteful gleam decorating Bucky’s face as his fists clenched beside his body. Steve swallowed hard, shamefully feeling just half the pity he should have.

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a/n: Not too fond of how the “reader-steps-in-Part” turned out, so I might rewrite that some other time. But I haven’t posted in so long, it was time to come back 💞 How’s everyone? I’ve missed you 💓

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