#‘ur almost 18 soon ur going to have to start deciding things for ur own’ until its the fact im deciding to go home once i turn 18

[lesbiantrish]

im so tired i just want to go home

[en-hale-archives]

i hope no ones asked this before, but how experienced do u think hyung line is? like who’s most likely to be a virgin / have started having sex recently / have had sex pre debut haha cause realistically most ppl that age have had their first time already (my first time was when i was ni-ki’s age which is so weird to think about 🥲🥲) but because of their training period and still being a rookie, it looks like it’d be harder for them to meet a romantic/sexual partner

sorry for the long ask lol but i’m curious about what u might think!!! also side note i love ur blog hehe

on a scale of 1-10, who's experienced is the hyung line..♡‧₊˚

pairing ≕ hyung!enha

warning ≕ 18+/smut. Read @ your own discretion.

author's note ≕ I'm so intrigued with this request. the rule of the scale is that I rate between 1-10 on which members are experienced or not. 10 being extremely experienced and 1 being not even a kiss.

──•°.-ˏˋ ♡ ˊˎ-.°•──

© to en-hale. no translations/reposts etc. (w/out permission)

𐂂 Heeseung ≕ 6.5 - I believe for sure that Heeseung has already had a few of his firsts, like first kiss, make-out, maybe some subtle dry grinding as they do, and potentially a handjob. His first kiss would've been wayyy long ago, years before he even decided to become a trainee. I think in middle school he might've had some fling with a cute girl from science class, and they might've kissed each other in between classes, or while waiting on the bus, you know, the only time middle schoolers could do stuff like that. During his trainee time, it's highly likely that he could've met someone, and they got close, kissed a few times, it might've gone far on one or two occasions, but never anything passed a couple of make-outs and the dry grinding like I mentioned before. Heeseung was for sure the type of trainee that was more focused on becoming an idol than he was on getting into a relationship. Nothing ever went anywhere with the girl, and by the time he became an idol, he was running out of free time to do really anything else outside of Enhypen. Since he is the oldest, I could believe that the company lets him get away with a few more things, like potentially seeing girls or even going on dates with them. If that were to happen, he could take it a step further and get his first handjob, maybe even trying to explore his partner's body by touching and rubbing on them, but I still believe he's a virgin. Again, he's so focused on the group, he's not worried about losing his virginity anytime soon. He'll just go with the flow. When it happens, it happens, but he's not going to stress himself out over it.

𓊿 Jay ≕ 4 - To be crucially honest, I don't see Jay having done much in the sexual department. I'm sure he's thought about it, even almost getting close to it, but never has it gone the way he expected. Like Heeseung, I'm sure Jay has had his first kiss like many do. Jay just always seems to me like the one that has to be in a relationship in order for him to be comfortable with doing stuff with his partner. So his first kiss might've happened in his early years of high school, so they were his first serious relationship, and they got to be his first kiss, and vice versa. They broke up when Jay decided to be a trainee cause he wanted to be all focused on his career. I can see him getting teased by the others that he didn't at least get his first handjob or blowjob, but he's not worried about it. I genuinely see Jay as he is right now having some fling with another k-pop female idol. It's very brand new, they've only been on a few dates, and potentially he's thinking about taking things further. But again, he's super busy with being in Enhypen, he doesn't have time to worry about his sex life. If anything, eventually Jay will lose it, maybe in the next couple of years or so. I can see him getting into a private relationship and keeping things calm until one day it just happens.

ꈊ Jake ≕ 9 - Probably has the most experience out of all of them. There's no doubt in my mind that he hasn't already lost his virginity. He seems like he would've been the cute popular guy in high school that could get anyone he wanted, and because of that, he just has already had sex, maybe even multiple times, with the same person, or even different people. I think way before he was even a trainee, Jake might've not had the best reputation and could've been a huge fuckboy, including just giving off those vibes more than any other member. I can imagine Jake being one of those kids in elementary school that would moan for fun at recess or would talk about sexual things with his friends. Kind of like back then when he couldn't stop laughing after Jungwon accidentally moaned on a vlive. Actually, he would've had the same maturity level as Ni-Ki when he was his age since Ni-Ki was the one who kept moaning out loud to tease Jungwon. Stuff like that is what I imagined Jake to be. Now, I think he has grown a bit more mature cause he's afraid to ruin his reputation since he is an idol, so he's not so much as sexually active as he could've been before. However, Jake has experienced all of it: handjob, blowjob, eating someone out, fucking them, even maybe trying out some funky positions. I can definitely see it. I think the only thing Jake hasn't had is a possible serious relationship which is why he's at a 9.

𖠪 Sunghoon ≕ 7.5 - as much as I write about Sunghoon being this big and bad dominant person, he's probably not had much more experience than Heeseung. For one, Sunghoon has kind of been in the spotlight his entire life, so I think he's already learned how to act in front of the camera, and due to his very stressful and busy job as a figure skater, he probably hasn't had much time outside to be in relationships, but I'm sure he's managed. His first kiss could've been with the person he did his first figure skating duet with, his first girlfriend could've been with the many girls he was in class with. it didn't start to go anywhere until right before he became a trainee, and his girlfriend and they might've taken things pretty far, maybe even almost having sex, but he was too scared and maybe she was too. If anything, Like Heeseung, I can see him having a secret relationship and just now diving into his sex life. Nothing serious like a relationship, but Sunghoon is an adult and has adult needs, just like the rest of the hyungs. So a few girls, so nights out. I don't know how arrangements would work in terms of if the girl would come over to the dorm, which I doubt she would, but he also couldn't go to hers so who knows...? I'm sure they figure it out though.

[bloodorangesoup]

Ice Cream and Bad TV | B.B.

Request: Late night thoughts : The only porn bucky watches are the ones that come on tv at like 2 or 3 in the mornings. Imagine cuddling up with him on his living room floor, aimlessly clicking around until you stumble upon the channel & he gets flustered & shy about it & you fuck him while porn plays in the background. Like I think it’s so romantic🥺🥺 riding him while the soft glow of the tv illuminates his face. His moans & grunting blending in with the actors 😫😫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I cannot for the life of me control myself)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | cuddle fucking, unprotected sex(pretend ur on birth control for a sec)(still wrap it b4 your tap it), flustered Bucky, porn talk, the tiniest bit of sub!Bucky for like half a second, fluffy smut, you get the gist

My Masterlist

Notes: I did this in one sitting so sorry if it’s repetitive or has any mistakes. I think I have a major soft sport for flustered Bucky. I also had to think of a realistic name for a TV porn channel so bear with me. This is my first time writing smut in non-headcanon form so let me know how I did! Happy reading!

It was 2am on a Thursday night when your phone rang with your boyfriend's caller I.D. This wasn't the first time that Bucky had called you for this instance, it became a routine for you to talk him down after a nightmare and you prepared to do so when you picked up. Usually the first thing you would hear was his heavy breaths, the anxious buzz in his body making him fumble his words as he tried to focus on talking to you, so you were surprised to be met with still breathing and his typical deep, steady voice.

"Doll? You there?"

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," you replied with a yawn, trying to sound as awake as possible. Bucky could hear the airiness of your voice and let out a sigh.

"Sorry, baby, I woke you up."

"You say that every time, I don't mind waking up for you. Besides, I don't have work tomorrow so I don't exactly need my beauty rest."

There was a pause. You could still hear static from the other side of the call but Bucky didn't say a word.

"Buck? You okay?" As if you snapped him out of a daydream, his hurried words rushed through the phone.

"Yeah yeah, sorry. I'm kind of out of it right now, I had another bad dream."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You had expected his usual answer of yes, then you would listen to his thoughts and comfort him through the horrific reality that were his nightmares.

"You said you don't have work tomorrow? Do you think you could come over right now? Actually never mind, I don't know what I'm saying, it's 2am." You could practically see Bucky shaking his head as he took back his question.

"I'll be there in twenty, James. You better have some blankets and pillows ready for me because we're taking over your couch."

Bucky let out a breath over the line, "See you soon, y/n, love you."

"Love you more," you said quickly before hanging up, not letting him get in the last 'I love you.'

~

Forty minutes later you found yourself on Bucky's lap on his living room floor. You two had abandoned the idea of the couch and chose to make a small fort with the couch as your scaffolding. There was a surprising amount of pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you, you had no idea Bucky even owned them all.

He sat with his back against the couch, your legs laid over his and your arms were around his neck, bringing his head down to your chest. He talked about his nightmare, sparing you the gruesome details, and once he was done he closed his eyes and leaned further into your chest, breathing in your scent. You gave the crown of his head a kiss and rested your head atop his. Comfortable silence washed over the two of you before you spoke up.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to look down at him.

“What?” he mumbled into your chest. A soft smile graced your face at his cuteness.

“Ice cream and bad TV!” you announced excitedly before wiggling out of his grasp.

You did a little jog to his kitchen and reached down into the freezer to grab a small pint of ice cream you knew Bucky always kept stashed for you whenever you came around. Picking up two spoons and turning off all the lights in the apartment on your way, you quickly made your way back into the living room, lifting Bucky’s arms to situate yourself back into your position on his lap. You popped the lid of the small tub and handed it to Bucky along with a spoon. With your hands now free, you felt around in the dark for the remote and turned on the TV.

Waiting for the TV to completely turn on, you ate a spoonful of ice cream. You hummed at the taste of the cold sweetness coating your tongue. You gasped as you opened your eyes, finding Bucky scooping out some ice cream and lowering it to your mouth.

“Oh wait, let me make this cuter!” you squealed with your eyes wide.

Copying Bucky’s actions, you took a spoonful and lifted it to his lips, the both of you opening wide and feeding each other. You giggled at the cliché moment and Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how adorable you were.

You turned back to the TV, lifting the remote in your hands to change the channel to anything but the news that was already playing on the screen. As you flipped through sports recaps, music channels, infomercials, and movies that were already almost over, you sighed.

“Ugh, there’s nothing good on. Maybe if I start from the end of the list there’ll be better stuff,” you huffed.

Before Bucky could register what you said you had already typed in the biggest number you could enter and began flipping down through channels. Surfing through the empty screens, you landed on one called HotNet and suddenly the screen was completely taken over by a pair of boobs which then cut to a woman on her back and a man on top of her, rutting into her at a slow pace, while her moans echoed throughout the apartment. You quickly shuffled with the remote, trying to turn the volume down from it’s loud setting, spooked at the loud, obscene noise coming from the speaker.

“Oh my gosh, I wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed into Bucky’s chest, “God, I hope your neighbors didn’t hear that.”

Bucky stared at the screen with wide eyes, hoping you would change the channel before noticing that the channel was in the On Demand section. You gasped through your laugh, collecting yourself before turning back to the TV and shaking your head.

“Jeez, I didn’t even know they still had porn like this on public television.” You looked back down at the remote, clicking the Guide button. Bucky’s heart stopped as the description took over the screen, the video still playing in the top right corner. In bold letters the words On Demand titled the card. Even worse, the bottom of the screen displayed a small box containing the information,

$19.99

purchased with debit card xxxx-9758

You furrowed your brows in confusion, realization slowly softening them, before a mischievous smirk took over your face. You lifted your head to look at Bucky, his face looked down at your lap, refusing to meet your eyes. You tapped the bottom of his chin with the remote, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Did you order TV porn, Jamie?” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice, and you only ever used that nickname when joking around, yet Bucky still felt extremely embarrassed. He felt as if he just got walked in on while touching himself. It didn’t help that it was you that saw it, he wanted to crawl in a hole and never look back.

“Ah, you’re blushing,” you squealed as you took his cheeks in your hands, “oh come on, it’s not that embarrassing Bucky.”

“Ugh, can we please pretend you didn’t just see that,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes to escape your stare. He set down the ice cream next to him and lifted his forearm over his eyes.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself and pushing up to swing your leg under you to the other side of his lap, you straddled him.

“Hey, it’s really not that bad. I mean we’ve had sex before Buck, I think you’d rather have me find this than Sam or someone else.” He let out another groan and lowered his head to lean against your neck.

“Angel, please don’t talk about Sam while you’re on top of me and there’s porn playing on the TV.”

You laughed and ran your hands down his arms, letting one of your hands run up behind his neck and weaving your fingers into his hair. You gripped the back of his head and gently tugged him back up to face you.

“Why,” you sang, deciding to have some fun with him in his flustered state, “is this turning you on?” you whispered the last part.

Before he could respond you leaned down and kissed him. You didn’t bother to start off slow as you usually would, Bucky could taste the hunger from every parting of your lips. His hands gripped your waist, you rocked your weight forwards to rub against him. Bucky’s head clouded, his senses felt overloaded in the best way possible, your movements mixed with the sounds of the moaning coming from the TV were getting him hot. You pulled back before getting too carried away, a smile on your swollen lips.

“So, baby, tell me about it.” You said. It was Bucky’s turn to furrow his brows and he cocked his head to the side in question, mind still foggy from the feeling of you grinding on him.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” you clarified, looking at him like you just asked what his favorite color was.

“Uhm, you want to know about that stuff?” Bucky looked at you with caution, feeling out if he should listen to you or not.

“Well, yeah. I mean I don’t know how it was back then, but most people nowadays watch porn. It’s not super taboo to talk about it,” you explained. You weren’t going to force him to talk about it if he really didn’t want to, but your desire to hear what Bucky was into was strong.

He hesitated for a moment, looking in your eyes and seeing curiosity clouded with lust. He cleared his throat.

“Well, pretty much this stuff,” he gestured with his hand to the TV before putting it back on your waist, “there’s this girl on there, she kinda looks like you, so I buy the videos with her.” He closed his eyes and internally groaned at his words, he didn’t mean to come off so perverted. God, you had already found his porn, the last thing he needed was for you to be thinking he was a creep.

“Y’know that’s actually kinda sweet,” you giggled, “what do you like about those videos?”

Feeling a bit more comfortable knowing you weren’t grossed out, Bucky continued.

“I like the ones where it’s dark and slow. It’s usually quiet and there’s candles and stuff,” he explained shyly. Of all the surprises that came with dating Bucky, you had to admit finding out he was into romantic porn was one of the biggest ones.

Bucky cleared his throat again before questioning you, “Do you watch porn?” He felt almost wrong asking that. He knew that women in this age were more sexually liberated, but the words still felt sticky in his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, of course I do.” Bucky seemed surprised at how casually you answered. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you to go on.

“Well specifically, I actually really like the videos that are like this,” you said, your head looking down at you straddling him, he followed your gaze, taking in how nice you felt on his lap. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest. Your faces were so close your noses were almost touching. You could feel his rapid heart beat under your palm and the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Do you ever watch the ones that look like this, Bucky?” He looked up at you and nodded with wide eyes, his pupils were blown and his mouth was open like he was searching for the words to respond.

You grasped his jaw in your hand, your thumb on his chin, and looked him in the eyes. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but with the newfound knowledge you had, you took your time with your actions. Within the last five minutes, Bucky had revealed to you not only that he liked soft, romantic porn, but that he also watched a specific actress because she looks like you. The one goal in your head was to fulfill his fantasy the best you could at the moment.

With his head still in your hand, you held your eye contact as you let your knees move out, grinding yourself against his growing erection. He let out an involuntary whimper. That was the last straw. You pulled his face to yours, joining him in a hard, yet loving kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing your chest against his, trying to get as close as possible.

Bucky’s dick was painfully hard. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of you on top of him. His body felt like it was on fire, he was insatiably horny and couldn’t control the way his hips bucked up to grind with you. He felt like a horny teenager the way his mind was filled only with images of you naked, imagining you like that on top of him like you were now.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, keeping your pace slow as you glided it across and bit at his lower lip. A moan made its way out of your mouth and into his as you felt him buck up against you.

You slid your hands down his chest, fumbling with the hem of his shirt before his arms raised, giving you access to peel it off him, throwing it up on the couch. Bucky kissed down your neck, licking over the shell of your ear, and sucking at the center of your throat. He reached down and slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up and down your waist before gliding up and lifting your shirt over your head, discarding it with his.

Bucky wasted no time reaching around you and unclipping your bra and dragging it down your shoulders. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them with his large hands before bringing you into another tender kiss. Despite your frantic movements, there was a spark of passion cracking through the air, the both of you desperate to feel each other closer.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting your forehead against his.

“I wanna make love to you, y/n, please, let me make love to you,” he groaned with a slight whine in his voice. He sounded like he was about to crack.

“Please, Bucky.”

You leaned back on your hands and lifted your hips, giving Bucky the room to pull down your shorts and panties in a few swift tugs. He quickly got up on his knees and pulled down his sweats and boxers, sitting back down and tugging them off his legs. You reached your arms forward, Bucky grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling you back to straddle him again. You gasped at the feeling of his cock under your bare pussy, your wetness from all the grinding and kissing making you slide over him.

You leaned forwards, capturing his lips between yours and raising yourself up on your knees. Reaching under yourself, you gripped his cock, wet with your arousal, and lined him up with your cunt. Bucky gripped your hips as you sank down on him, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from rutting up into you. You stayed like that for a second, adjusting to the way he filled you. Seeing the remote lying on the floor, you grabbed it and slightly turned up the volume, only enough so that you and Bucky could hear the actress in the video being ravished by her co-star.

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you began to slowly move up and down over him, riding him just as you had told him you liked to watch. His hands moved up from your waist, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples in between his fingers. You let out a hiss as he rolled them between his fore finger and his thumb, tugging on and rubbing his thumbs over them. He reached around to grab your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks and you used him to pleasure yourself.

You were a moaning mess over him and he wasn’t much different. The room was filled with the sounds of the porn playing on the TV mixed with the sounds of your own cries of pleasure. If the neighbors hadn’t been woken up by the TV, they sure were by you two.

Bucky sat back on his knees, his hands slid down to your thighs, moving your legs from under them and wrapping your legs around his back. His arms worked their way back up to wrap around your waist, bringing you ever so close. The new angle pushed him even deeper up into you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, giving you access to all the sweet, desperate sounds falling from his lips.

You were now pushing up with your feet behind him, rolling your hips over his. The new technique made your clit rub over his pelvis, the sensation making you throw your head back and let out a deep moan. He took the opportunity to continue kissing your neck, going lower with every lick and bite. He sucked at your collarbone, leaving a deep purple mark in its place.

Suddenly, he was using his arms to lift you up, not pulling out of you, and laying you down on the blanket-covered floor. You instinctively locked your ankles together, pulling him closer as he thrusted into you. Bucky had his metal arm holding himself up while his flesh one squeezed your breasts, feeling them move with his thrusts. He lowered his head to your chest and licked one of your nipples, grazing his teeth over it before taking it in between his lips and sucking. Your hands flew to the back of his head, singing praises as you wove your fingers into his hair. He continued to alternate between your breasts, leaving love bites around them and sucking on their sensitive peaks.

You could feel your body buzz with anticipation, you were so close. The moans escaping your mouth were lewd and uncontrolled. Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around your waist, lifting your chest flush against his.

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him. Nothing felt better than making love with Bucky felt. This was definitely not the first time you two had been intimate, but none of those previous times had ever been like this. You could feel the passion flowing through his body into yours. You looked up at his form over you, how beautiful he looked with the light of the TV screen glistening against the beads of sweat on his forehead. There was absolutely nothing in the world compared to having him, in all his beauty, to yourself like this.

Bucky’s heart was exploding in his chest. What had started out as an embarrassing, nightmare-fueled night had turned into the most intimate experience he ever had in his life. Love was already established in your relationship, but Bucky had never truly made love to you. He looked down in awe at your disheveled state, at the way your hair was sticking to your forehead, at the way the only light in the room gave you an angelic glow. He wanted nothing more than to give himself completely to you, to make you come all over him.

He leaned his forehead against yours, pushing his face forward once every few seconds to kiss you. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. He leaned into you even more, his cheek pressed against yours, his lips next to your ear.

“I love you so much, y/n, God, you feel so good. I love you, I love you,” Bucky’s voice was deep and strained, his words being emphasized by each push into your wet pussy. You let out another loud moan.

“I love you, James,” you whined as he hit your sweet spot, “I love you so much.”

Bucky’s hand wedged itself in between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit and gently rubbing it. You were completely overwhelmed, this is what it felt like to make love to someone. Your body began to shake and your breathing became erratic. Bucky thrusted harder, working to push you over the edge.

“I want you to come in me, Bucky,” you gasped as his thrusts got faster and lost their rhythm.

Your mouth turned open in a silent scream as you came. Bucky felt your walls clench around him, squeezing the life out of him. He let out a shaky groan as he fell over the edge. His eyes shut tight and his body tensed as he spilled into you.

Wrapping his metal arm around your back and securing your body to his, he rolled on his flesh shoulder onto his back. You went limp against him, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow down. He was still buried within you, connected to you. Letting your eyelids fall shut, you savored the feeling of being full of him and his love.

You lifted your head to kiss his jaw.

“I’m glad you called me, Bucky. I love you.”

“I am too, doll. I love you more.”

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Hello omg I love your recent smut with draco! If ever, could you perhaps continue their escapade in the dining room? With impreg/breeding kink (if ur comfortable!!) thankieee 💜

part two of this smut

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

warning(s): 18+, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, breeding kink 

word count: 2.0k

a/n: i would give up a lot of things in life to give draco malfoy some kids... sorry not sorry but i’d be the perfect little housewife for him. oops. 

Christmas Day had come and gone in the Malfoy Manor and you and Draco were simply just letting the days roll forward until you had to return to Hogwarts after the New Year. The two of you had exchanged a slew of gifts, a few of the highlights from him being a newly bound set of your favorite book series, multiple new sets of lingerie that you had to open away from his parents, and a stunning set of jewelry covered with emeralds. Everything was insanely expensive, but he swore up and down that money meant nothing when it came to you therefore he would spoil you to his heart's content. 

Currently, dinner with the Malfoy’s was just finishing up and Narcissa and Lucius were off to do whatever they did in the evenings, leaving you and Draco by yourselves in their big house once more. 

You made to leave the grand dining room shortly after they had, but Draco swiftly blocked your exit from the door. He stuck his head out quickly, checking that the coast was clear, before locking the doors and casting a silent Muffliato around the room. 

“What are you doing?” You asked rather indignantly, clearly not remembering the conversation you both had had previously. 

“You know what I’m doing,” he said menacingly, slowly backing you up until your ass was hitting the grand oak table. “I told you I was going to take you in every room in house starting with the dining room, and here we are,” he explained carefully, as if you were too stupid to understand, while he hand crawled up your leg and into your dress. 

You swallowed harshly and agreed to the plans with a quick nod. Not that you really had anything to agree to, he had already decided. 

Soon enough his lips were on your neck and his hand was at the hem of the lace underwear you concealed beneath your dress, part of one of the new lingerie sets he had gotten you. You would never admit that you were anticipating sex by wearing a set, but he would know the second he ripped your dress off. 

“One day I’ll have you in every single room in this house,” he mused, his lips against your neck, the heat of his breath making a shiver run down your spine. “You like the thought of that?” He asked, a smirk on his face and his eyes twinkling when he pulled away to look at you. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, a brush crawling up your cheeks at all the obscene images running through your head. 

He made a noise of agreement and began hiking your dress up until it was shed from your body and on the floor beside his feet. “Lay back for me,” he instructed, pulling a chair over to where you were and promptly sitting down. 

Oh. He was going to have the best damn meal of his life if the look in his eyes had anything to say. 

You did as he told you, splaying yourself out before him on the dark wood, arching your back just enough so he could see the pretty way your breasts sat in the bra he had picked for you. 

Silently, he stripped you of the thin lace and exposed you fully to him. When he saw how wet you were, his eyes shot to you for a moment and the usual icy color was replaced with a stormy grey so dark it was intimidating. 

He didn’t waste time in bringing his mouth down to you, immediately sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around the nerves, shooting a rush of pleasure through you that forced you to curl your toes.

“Be as loud as you want for me. No one can hear you but me,” he assured you, knowing how nervous it made you to do these things in his house despite the thrill it gave you both. 

But you trusted him, so you let all of the noises you couldn’t control out into the room, so loud you swore you saw the chandelier vibrate. He was so naturally gifted at this that it took almost no time at all for your core to tighten around his tongue that was fucking you generously. You could feel your own wetness and his spit trailing down your skin and onto the table beneath, knowing that the puddle would only grow once he was inside of you. 

“Cum on my tongue. Now,” he practically growled out, desperate to taste you, proved by the way his tongue almost went into overdrive. You weren’t sure how he made it move like that, but you were so thankful for it. 

His tongue was hitting all of the right places while a finger lightly trailed around your clit, causing your back to arch off the table and hips to grind further into his mouth. You came with a shout, gripping his platinum hair and dragging him as far in as you could, practically suffocating him. He brought you down gracefully from your orgasm, his tongue never quitting until he was pulling away from you and standing up. 

“You don’t even understand how good you look right now,” he said lowly, looming over you now that he had kicked the chair out of the way and was at his full height in front of you. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you joked back, taking in his all black suit that he had already peeled the jacket off of. He looked too fucking good for your own sanity.

He looked like he had some wise retort back, but he reluctantly swollen it when he reached down for his belt, pulling it out of his belt loops in one go. It made your core clench around nothing and you knew he could see the way you were dripping down onto the table just from that. 

“Look at you. You knew you were getting fucked tonight didn’t you? Wearing all this for me and being this fucking wet?” He asked, bending down over you while using one hand to undo the button on his dress pants. 

“Didn’t plan anything,” you argued, your lips trailing from his neck to his perfect jawline. 

“Is that right? You didn’t want to get fucked on my dining room table? Didn’t want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked, his erect cock now fully out and clearly throbbing, aching for you just as much as you were aching for him. 

You didn’t say anything, just moved your body until you were at the edge of the table and spread your legs seductively slow, your eyes never leaving his.  

“You’re my perfect little whore, you know that?” He groaned before lining up his cock with your core and thrusting inside. You were so wet it was almost easy to take him, but the stretch still forced you to cling to his arms for dear life, a groan of your own leaving your lips. 

“Tell me what you are,” he said aggressively, pounding into you furiously. His grip on your hips was so harsh you knew there would be bruises left over for you to marvel at in the morning. 

“You’re little whore,” you whimpered, your head thrown back against the hard wood as your body was rocked back and forth. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his forehead pressed tightly against your with a leg of your thrown over his shoulder now. The angle was perfect, the friction delicious and he was inside of you so deep you could feel him in your stomach. “One day we’ll own this house and I’ll fuck you everywhere until you’re so full of my cum you’re a leaking mess. So full until you’re carrying my fucking child.” 

It shocked you at first, that he was thinking so far into the future in the midst of this moment, but you quickly brushed it off because the images he had conjured up in your head sent a rush of pleasure through you. 

“Yeah? You like that?” He asked, growing slightly breathless as his thrusts never once faltered, but he kept going. “You want me to fill you up so much and so fucking deep that you give me a child? I’ll do it over and over again until we have a whole fucking Quidditch team worth of kids. You’re going to be so fucking perfect,” he rambled, loving nothing more than to run his mouth during sex. The only excuse he had for it was that it got you off too, but you knew he just liked to hear his own voice. 

“Please, Draco. Want that. Cum in me, please,” you whined back through a moan, gripping his arms and attaching your lips to his. 

He took over the kiss easily, you were too lost in pleasure to fight for control, and his tongue danced with you. You could still taste yourself on him, making you groan, but he pulled away. 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded and you did so without questions. What you didn’t expect for him to do was spit in your mouth but that’s exactly what he did. His spit moved down your tongue and to the back of your throat and he watched you intently as you swallowed it all down, the taste of yourself lingering behind. “My perfect girl,” he said more softly, his fingers finding a home in your hair. 

“I’m close,” you admitted, blushing furiously because you knew he’d know it was all the spitting and the talking that had gotten you there. 

“Cum on my cock and I’ll give you what you want,” he told you, one of his hands coming down on your clit and giving you no choice but to do exactly what he wanted. 

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, you core so tight around his cock that you knew it was a vice. Your vision went white as you exploded around him, your walls milking his cock with every final thrust he gave you. 

He came with a groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck while he held you impossibly close to his body, his hips slowing to a gentle roll as he emptied himself inside of you. 

You both slowly came down from you high and you were so thankful you were laying down because you could tell he just wanted to collapse. He held himself upright though, his forearms surrounding your head and breathing deeply into your skin. You were both covered in a fine layer of swear, you back sticking to the wood and your skin was basically one with his at this point. 

Once he managed the strength, he peeled away from you and pulled out, quickly casting a Scourgify charm over the both of you in an effort to leave no traces behind. He left gentle kisses over the skin of your shoulder until he was ready to stand up and when he did he looked down at you as if you were some sort of goddess. You were in his eyes, you supposed. 

“That was better than I’ve ever imagined it to be,” he said softly, hands trailing over your body. 

“You’ve imagined this?” You asked, still a little out of breath, but you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ve pictured fucking you all over this house with a hand on myself more times than I’d care to admit,” he chuckled, reaching for your lace underwear and slowly dragging the fabric back up your legs. 

“Oh right, ‘when we own this house’,” you mocked him gently, nudging him gently with your foot. 

He turned the cutest shade of pink and decidedly avoided your eyes. “Didn’t think you caught that,” he admitted quietly. 

“It was cute. I quite like the thought, actually,” you confessed boldly. 

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes finally meeting yours with a small smile playing on his face. When all you did was nod back with a giggle, he scooped you up carefully and began carrying you back through the doors. “Well then let’s go pick another place in our future home, shall we?” 

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were�� little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[moronic-validity]

Okey so I saw that ur requests where up?if not then I won’t take offence to you ignoring this I can be dumb sometimes😅

Anywho! If you wouldn’t mind of course could I get Asa Emory with a delinquent M!S/O? Idm what else you do with it I just love the idea of someone who would like punch Asa and not bat an eye and clashes with dominance I guess?

Thank you!!🥰

Hi Asa Nonnie! I decided to goa bit...off with it and I broke the reader! Well, Asa did.

This is a 2k fic, I was going to make it longer... If y'all want a part 2, let me know!

Warnings: Canon-typical ish violence! Just a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome, maybe more self preservation than anything else.

This fic is not 18+, but I will say it’s like...not completely sfw

You knew this guy had a PhD and owned a fairly lucrative fix-it company.

You hoped this guy had some work equipment you could take to the pawn shop.

You had been watching the house for about a week, making note of his comings and goings, assuring yourself that he lived alone. This man functioned on a tight schedule and you could map it down to the minute. There was only one thing that caught you off guard.

He didn’t have a security system.

It almost threw you off his house.

Almost.

You waited until he left for the night, somewhere around 8 p.m. He wouldn’t be back for hours. You knew as long as you were quiet, his neighbors wouldn’t even blink. He even left his garage open.

This guy really is clueless, you thought to yourself, nearly wanting to laugh at the man, this is going to be a piece of cake.

Asa drove off down the block. He was going to give you about 45 minutes to get into his home and begin your search for loot. He checked his watch and tapped his steering wheel impatiently. He wanted to save himself the effort of replacing his windows or locks and left the garage door open for you.

You walked in, careful to not make too much noise. His house was absurdly pristine, if you didn’t know someone lived there, you’d have assumed it was a model home. You wandered towards the bedrooms and took care to step over the wire on the floor. You had no idea what it was attached to, but the last thing you needed was to knock something over.

Asa parked on the curb across from his house. He hummed to himself, happy to see your nondescript grey car with the conveniently missing tags still parked in his garage, out of view from his neighbors.

So smart, he thought to himself, yet far too careless.

Asa nodded to a passing neighbor, a greeting exchanged as the other continued their walk.

Once he was in his garage, he pulled on his gloves and mask. He entered his house silently, not wanting to alert the would-be thief. He watched as you entered his room and touch his bed.

You had to marvel at the impeccable condition this man kept his house in. You ghosted your fingers along the sheets of his bed. They were high quality, you assumed. Higher quality than you had ever owned. You looked across the room, unaware of the man approaching from behind until he was within arm’s length. You planted your feet, twisted, and threw a punch with your entire body weight behind it.

Asa wasn’t expecting you to hit him.

Asa certainly wasn’t expecting it to hurt the way it did.

The fight that ensued left both of you bloody, but while you seemed tired, the other man seemed excited. Almost thrilled to have someone to beat the shit out of.

He had backed you out into the hall, and this time, you weren’t careful, and you tripped over the wire you had intentionally avoided the first time. The rug on the floor came up and enveloped you, blacking out everything.

It was a trap.

This man had booby trapped his house.

You thought about the predictable schedule, the lack of a security system, and the open garage door.

This was never an easy score, not for you at least.

Asa chuckled to himself before finding one of his spare crates. He cut you down, dropping you and the rug into the container. You were kicking and screaming, fighting against it, but stronger people had put up better fights, and still wound up added to his collection. You were no different, though definitely more amusing.

He took off his mask and gloves and headed towards his bathroom. He prodded at the growing bruise and shook his head. You had landed a few good shots. His lip was split, there was the bruise forming along his left cheek and up along his brow, he knew his knuckles were split and that if he had bothered to check, his ribs were probably bruised.

He carefully cleaned his lip and knuckles before returning his attention to where you were stored on the floor.

He had plans for you.

He dragged the crate out into his driveway, once again acknowledging one of his neighbors. They exchanged pleasantries as you attempted to rock the box over.

“Feisty ones this time Asa?” His neighbor joked, looking at the trunk.

You nearly froze. Was this a regular occurrence? Did this guy just...kidnap people?

“Only a little bit,” Asa said with a happy sounding sigh, “I’ve been lucky enough to study him alone for roughly a week now, just time to take him back to where he belongs.”

“Seems like he doesn’t want to go,” his neighbor laughed, “Need some help loading him up?”

You screamed, but it was muffled. You felt yourself being lifted and before long, you were set down and slid until you hit a wall.

You heard a door shut.

Before long, the vehicle was moving. You were folded in an uncomfortable position and every time he took a turn, you slid until you hit another panel of the van.

You had to shut your eyes to avoid getting motion sick.

Once the van was parked, he hauled the trunk along with him.

You had no idea where you were, but you knew as soon as he opened the crate, you were going to start swinging.

You tried to map the turns he took so you could get out of the building, but after the eighth or ninth turn, you were lost.

Finally, he set you down. You could hear him doing something across the room.

Then he unlatched the case.

You tumbled out, clumsily finding your footing. Your vision was swimming, but you attempted to punch your kidnapper anyway. Asa dodged it with ease and shoved you.

You fell then scrambled back to your feet, setting up to tackle him.

Asa stepped to the side and watched you run into the floor. He smiled. He was going to have fun with this. He walked over to your still recovering form, pulled the waist band of your pants down, and stuck you with the needle he set up before letting you out. Nothing more than a mild paralytic. He wanted you awake for this.

You were numb. You couldn’t lift your arms or legs if you tried, and you did. You felt him lift you up and place you on a table that you didn’t even realize was in the room. He picked up your arm and started an IV. You could see the stand in your peripheral. You hoped to God that it was just saline.

Asa picked up a pair of trauma shears off the counter and cut away your pants and shirt. He had to make sure that he hadn’t damaged his newest toy. He noted that your chest was covered in bruises, but other than one that looked particularly dark, he was sure you were going to be fine.

You cold tell it was cold and you felt your clothes being pulled away. You’d cover yourself if you could move your arms.

Asa considered his options. He could easily skin you if he wanted to. Use you for a new addition to his prized collection.

But you were interesting.

Interesting didn’t come along every day.

He checked his watch. You probably had another three or four hours until the paralytic wore off. He covered your body with a blanket and sat down, watching and waiting until you were moving again.

Your eyelids were so heavy and the blanket he covered you with was so warm. Despite the fear you felt, you couldn’t help yourself falling asleep.

You woke up to your IV being tugged. You turned your head and regarded the man carefully. You didn’t want to swing on him and wind up getting drugged again, but you also didn’t want to stay here. He wasn’t unattractive and frankly speaking, in any other situation, that didn’t start with robbery and end with a kidnapping, you probably would’ve asked him out for coffee.

“Asa, right?” Your voice was hoarse, he looked at you like he was trying to figure out how he wanted to pin you to the wall, “What do you want with me?”

Asa chuckled.

“What do I want with you,” he chuckled again, shaking his head, “What did you want with me? What were you hoping to steal?”

“I don’t think we can really compare the pair here,” you said, almost wanting to laugh, “Kidnapping and theft are on two different levels,”

You sat up on the table, letting the blanket fall over your lap.

Asa took a step back, his hand on the shears he used to remove your clothes.

“You’re interesting. I tend to enjoy the company of interesting people.” He answered, leaving no room for further questioning.

You two watched each other, each waiting for the other to make a move.

“Lay back down.” Asa commanded, and you laughed in his face.

“I’m not a dog,” you started, before he put his hands on your chest and forced you back down onto the table, securing you in place with straps you didn’t know were there.

It occurred to you that this was not the first time you missed the small details that gave him advantage.

“Disobey or question me again and I put you back in the box. You’ll only come out when I decide I want your company,” he tightened the straps, “Listen to me and things will be significantly easier for you.”

You acted before you thought about it. You turned your head and spit on him.

The laugh Asa let out made you regret every choice you made in the last 48 hours.

You weren’t sure how long he locked you in the trunk. You knew that everything hurt. You were sure that you’d be stuck in this uncomfortable position even after the case was opened.

Asa locked you in the box for about an hour. He had timed it. It gave him a moment to take his frustrations out on a different unfortunate soul.

Asa adjusted his clothes before reentering the room he was keeping you in. He knew there was blood on his shoes, still wet and fragrant.

He undid the straps on the case and let it fall open. You fell over, onto the floor, not bothering to get up.

Asa shook his head.

“I want you to lick my shoe.” Asa moved his shoe directly in front of your face.

“Why?” you were scared to refuse, not wanting to get put in the box again.

“Because my shoe is dirty,” he crossed his arms, “and I want you to clean it.”

You stalled. Asa bent down to drag you back into the box.

“No no no no no,” you started panicking; you stuck your tongue out and he let go of your arm. You could tell it was blood based off of scent alone and as disgusted as you were, you’d do anything on earth to avoid being shoved back in the dark.

He stood back up and watched as you started to lick his shoe with broad strokes. The tears were flowing freely down your face and Asa had never seen something so beautiful in his life.

You were broken.

It was so much easier than Asa could’ve dreamed.

He watched patiently as you cried and begged and worshiped his bloody shoe.

You had still disobeyed him.

He still locked you back in the box, crying and screaming.

He set the timer for about forty-seven minutes, not even bothering to leave the room. He sat in the chair and watched the box rattle. He watched as it stilled, and your screams turned to choked sobs. He imagined the look of resigned desperation.

His watch gave a single vibration to signal the end of your confinement.

When he opened the box this time, your first response was to clutch his leg.

Asa was amused by how little effort he had to put into breaking your will. Had you not been attractive, he would’ve considered you no longer of interest.

He shook you off his leg and walked across the room. You stayed put and watched him, looking for some signal so you didn’t make the mistake of disobeying him yet again.

He motioned for you to come and you crawled to him without a second thought. You sat at his feet and looked up at him.

“Well, isn’t that a good boy,” he stroked your cheek, thankful you had put the idea of you being his dog in his head.

You leaned into his touch.

Asa smiled and cupped your face in his hand, squeezing just hard enough for it to open your mouth.

“Stick out your tongue,” he said, no louder than a whisper. You obeyed and he repaid you by spitting directly onto your tongue, “Now swallow.”

For a second you considered spitting onto the floor. You didn’t want this. Not from him.

The fear of being locked in the trunk again over-rode any sense of self respect and you swallowed the mixed saliva.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.”

[skellebonez]

Where He Was (FreeNoodles Fanfic)

HEY @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off I HEARD IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY! So first off: HAPPY BIRTHDAY (SLIGHTLY LATE MAYBE I AM SORRY) ! Second: because it’s your birthday I wrote you some FreeNoodles! This could be considered a sequel to that fill I wrote of Pigsy revealing he is Zhu Bajie with some headcanons and other FreeNoodles fills referenced for fun. It’s a slightly different style from what I normally do but I hope you like it!

Here’s an AO3 link! (Chapter 2 is the fill this is a sequel to)

Tang never imagined that he would end up where he was at this exact moment.

Thinking back on it, he supposed it started back when he had met Pigsy. The noodle shop was recently opened, not yet having the eye catching neon sign of MK's design, and he had decided to take a gamble. If the food was better than his usual lunch spot, great! And if it wasn't at least he had tried something new.

In the end the food was absolutely amazing, but that wasn't the only reason he kept coming back. After a few days of eating he started to really notice the owner, Pigsy the chef and seemingly only employee in the entire shop, and picked up on the way he just... changed in different situations. For most customers he was cordial and polite but when they were a regular he seemed to open up more and relax, showing off his gruff sense of humor and caring nature. He noticed how there seemed to be specific regulars he took the time out of his day to talk to specifically, how he had a soft spot for kids (and he would never forget the time he saw a very tired student was short on money and Pigsy just rang him up for a smaller bowl and refused to take his offer to wash dishes to pay the difference), and how when there were no other customers around he would sometimes forget Tang was still sitting in the back of the shop and he would smile in a way he just didn't around others while he prepared the ingredients for other batches of soup.

He slowly started sitting at the bar, hoping that he would work up the courage to start actually talking to him and in time he did. Maybe... flirt a little for reasons he didn’t really think about too hard... He fumbled it poorly and made a fool of himself, forgetting both his own wallet and to even attempt to pay, but Pigsy had taken pity on him and asked him to come back and that soft only half exasperated and amused look on his face made the scholar flush and realize... he had indeed developed a bit of a crush on the other man.

The more time he spent in the shop the more he began to realize that it was more than a bit, but after his initial horrifically failed attempts of flirting he decided to just try befriending the pig and see how things went from there. And for the longest time this worked fabulously, the two of them growing closer and closer and he realizing that, somehow, Pigsy reminded him more than a bit of a softer Zhu Bajie of the old stories. He had managed to finish every item on the menu and even see his own playful suggestions incorporated (and he would never let Pigsy hear the end of that) as well. This had been going great... and then MK had disappeared.

He had found it odd that he hadn't seen the young man while working his extra shifts at the library in a couple days. Normally he had such a regular schedule, and Mei hadn't shown up either, but it hadn't been the first time they had skipped a day or two due to something like a new game release or the airing of a new Monkey King related show or movie. It wasn't until he had gone to the noodle shop on what should have been two days after his birthday that he realized not only had MK also been a regular of Pigsy's Noodles (and what a coincidence that the boy he had taken under his wing was not only friends with the girl who he was close family friends with and considered family herself, but all three were regulars of the same shop) but he had been coming in almost as long as Tang had on a slightly different schedule. Soon it became three days, then four, then nearly a week. Neither Pigsy or Mei had seen him at all and Tang really wished he knew where the boy lived. Pigsy had been been growing more and more worried and anxious and then one day Tang came in and he was just not worried anymore.

He had run out from behind the counter and yelled his name and hugged him and said "we found him, MK's ok!" and he had never seen the other man look so relieved and angry at the same time as he started going on about how his parents had kicked him out and Pigsy had been thinking of starting a delivery service and now MK was living in the old room he didn't really use above the shop... and that was when Tang knew he didn't have a crush on Pigsy.

He'd accidentally fallen for him.

Completely.

He's seen MK soon after the same day, learned the whole story (and how he would love to join Pigsy for a "chat" with the then 18 year old's parents), and overtime they settled into a routine. Pigsy helped MK get his license and get used to living on his own and working, Tang came by nearly every day for noodles and to check in, Mei and MK hung out in the shop after hours, and once again things had been going so well for a few months.

Unfortunately for Tang, it seemed they could never go long without something eventful happening anymore because one day he went to work with an apartment and left work to find he didn't have one anymore. A fire, they had said, bad enough that the building needed to be demolished as soon as possible. He was lucky, he lived on the side with the least damage and most of his belongings were safe, but he had nowhere to go. He lived too far from any of his family to receive any immediate help from them and he couldn't afford to stay in hotels for very long. The only thing he could think to do was grab his laptop from his apartment and make a second trek to Pigsy's Noodles and look for any apartment listing he could afford no matter how poor quality it may be.

He didn't get very far before Pigsy frowned and said "I have a spare room at my place".

Tang had tried to argue, to turn him down, face flushing in embarrassment and unspoken "no Pigsy you don't understand I'm in love with you I can't" floating just on the tip of his tongue. But the pig had grabbed his hand and held it tight before he brought him noodles he had not ordered with a smile and a whispered "you look like you need them" and he couldn't say no. So he moved in.

It was awkward for a time, getting used to a new home and having a roommate and seeing Pigsy out of his work clothes and getting to know him more and more and he shouldn't have been surprised to learn he was just as particular about his tea as he was his noodles. That was fine as Tang was as well in the same way. Soon his belongings left his room, his kitchenware were used as much as what was here and books were left on the coffee table and it felt less like a place he was staying and more like his home.

True to form something else happened, this time MK finding the staff of the Monkey King of all things and really he didn't need to mull the last few months over in his mind. It had all been a whirlwind of one thing after the other but he remembered them well enough. Only one moment stood out in his mind that helped to bring him right here and now.

Less than a week prior he learned that his Pigsy and the Zhu Bajie were one and the same.

One minute he was on the roof of a four story building across from the noodle shop and Pigsy was Pigsy, the next he was falling and Pigsy was Not Pigsy and instead a large behemoth of a large tusked demon catching him as he plummeted to what would have been either his death or an excessively long stay in the hospital, wrapping his entire body around Tang. He’d caught him so carefully he barely even felt the jolt when he landed and made a crater in the street and he felt his heart skip once he was set down and Pigsy- no Zhu Bajie but still Pigsy to him- jumped back onto the building and punched the offending demon so hard they couldn’t even find him afterwards.

They’d sat in the noodle shop and everything was laid on the table and he took another gamble. Just like on that first day he entered Pigsy’s Noodles. He’d climbed on the table they sat at and stopped just short of kissing Pigsy, waiting to see what he would do and then he kissed him first and it was awkward and they didn’t really fit together because he was so big but it was right.

He was such a fool to wait so long but the jolt of something he felt in his chest that made him gasp was worth it. He would have waited twice as long just to feel that moment again.

They couldn’t go home, not with Pigsy as big as he was, so they waited in the shop until he could calm down enough to transform back. Talking, revealing things they felt about each other they never thought they would ever be able to admit like how Tang would just watch Pigsy while he talked to kids because he lit up and how Pigsy would listen to every story Tang told MK and his objections were just so the younger man wouldn’t catch on to his affections for the scholar.

That night was the last night Tang spent in his room alone because neither of them got a single second of sleep as they thought about the other. The first night sleeping in the same bed went much the same way, if not almost worse, their faces heated in embarrassment and disbelief that this was happening keeping them from sleeping any other way than with their backs turned to each other. But at least they eventually fell asleep.

The night after Tang chanced a second kiss as they climbed into bed, taking the lead this time. This time it was like they fit together perfectly and they couldn’t bring themselves to roll over after and eventually they kissed again and again and Tang tucked Pigsy’s head under his chin once he nodded off first and they slept more soundly than he could ever remember.

And then the next night they did the same and Pigsy transformed in his sleep and destroyed their bed and gave Tang the scare of his life.

Learning that Pigsy was apt to transform into his demon form if he was completely at ease and safe made Tang wonder exactly why he had never done this in his sleep before, but he didn’t pry. Instead he laughed softly and kissed him again through the pig’s embarrassment and insisted it was perfectly fine and actually rather sweet as ordered a much larger bed that only barely fit in multiple parts and needed the delivery team to set it up. It was so massive they could fit two of each of them in it and still have room, there was barely any floor left at all, but it would hopefully be just big enough to fit one full sized Pigsy plus one  human sized Tang.

And that’s how Tang ended up where he was at that exact moment.

Laying in a bed much too large for him but perfectly sized for them, one massive demon curled around him and purring so loud Tang could have mistaken him for a motor, both awake but unwilling to move themselves.

“I love you,” Pigsy suddenly said, almost unheard above his purrs but not missed.

“I love you too,” Tang replied, meaning it with all of his being.

He tilted his head up as Pigsy leaned further down, their lips meeting in another chaste but right kiss.

[kookoosbunnynose]

Pairing -> Officer!Reader x BadBoy!Jungkook (ft. Reader x Yoongi)

Genre -> Angst | Smut | Fluff

Rating -> Mature (18+)

Word Count -> 14.5k

Playlist -> Looks Red, Tastes Blue

Warnings -> Major Character Death | Grief | Poor Coping Mechanisms | Mentions of Alcohol Abuse | Mentions of Smoking (tobacco) | Unrequited Love | Emotional Constipation | Explicit Sexual Content | Unprotected Sex (stay safe losers) | Oral (m/f receiving) | Dom/Sub Themes | Dirty Talk | Praise Kink | Sir Kink | He Spit in Ur Mouth | Brief Sex with Jimin | Should I Even Bother Putting Cursing?

Summary -> You meet an old friend under uncomfortable circumstances, he brings with him memories you’ve tried to forget for years. Your past becomes your future before you can catch your breath. 

Excerpt -> “But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.”

—————

“We have a 10-51 at The Red Eye on Main.” Your radio suddenly booms in your otherwise quiet vehicle, snapping you out of your trance-like state caused by watching a mostly empty intersection run through light cycles for the better part of an hour.

“10-4, I’m 76.” You answered, pausing briefly to assess your location in relation to the hole-in-the-wall bar. “10-77, three minutes.” You finish, setting down your mic and flipping your lights on.

When you first started this job, getting a call for a drunk and disorderly would send your heart into overdrive, cause your breathing to shallow and your hands to shake. Mind filling with possibilities of having to contain a violent man twice your size. But after learning the patterns of the locals in town, and learning your own capabilities, you barely batted an eye. You’d probably just have to give the crotchety town drunk a ride back home and scold him for making you do this for the upteenth time. No biggie.

You sped down the empty street with ease, you could drive this town with your eyes closed since you were fourteen. The street lights around you against the night sky making everything appear untouched and serene, only amplifying your obnoxious siren.

Three minutes, nearly on the dot, when you pull up to Red Eye, and much to your surprise you see a young man sitting on the curb with his forearms resting lazily on his knees waiting for your arrival. The less than impressed security guard stops glaring at him in favor of filling you in on what happened.

“Hi y/n.” the guard greets, making the man pick his head up to confirm his suspicions.

“Well, fancy seeing you on that side of the law.” He says making you take in a stiff breath at the familiar voice, one you haven’t heard in years.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Jeon.” you say with a steady breath, being very well versed in not appearing as shaken as you are. And you are. But you fight the way your throat wants to close because you’re wearing your badge, and you’re not here to dive nose first into your past. You’re here to take statements and do an assload of paperwork.

“The kid has been pretty cooperative,” the guard continues when you turn your attention back towards him. “didn’t put up a fight when I escorted him out. He’s had one too many drinks and threw a punch at a guy, who has decided not to press charges. But I got his information before he left to tend to his busted lip, if you need to contact him.” he informs, handing you a napkin with the bar’s logo and shaky ink etched into it.

“Thank you, I’ll take him off your hands.” you say glancing at the man in question, he’s still watching you with the kind of smirk only alcohol can provide. “I’ll take him to the station to sober up and get his story.” he nods, stepping back but staying close just in case.

“Are you gonna get in the car quietly or do I have to use these?” you question, holding your cuffs up with a hooked finger.

“Don’t make me any promises you won’t keep, sweetheart.” he winks lamely. You roll your eyes, and open the back door of your car.

“Get in Jeon, I won’t ask twice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he says, raising his hands in defense and standing to climb in your backseat.

You shut the door behind him and make your way around the vehicle, giving the guard a wave goodbye. If he had been anyone else making a remark like that would’ve landed them a pair of cuffs, but in all your years of knowing him, Jungkook has never given you a reason to feel unsafe with him.

He was pretty quiet on your drive back to the station allowing your mind to wander to the time you two last spoke.

That day the air was heavy and unforgiving on your lungs, that no matter how hard you tried never felt full. You were both dressed in black, heads hung low in mourning. Before you departed you gave each other a long hug, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s and sniffling together. Giving each other as much comfort as you could muster even though neither one of you believed it would be okay yourselves. The hug was meant to be one of condolence but shortly after you would come to learn that, unbeknownst to either of you, it was a goodbye as well.

You don’t know if it was because you were pulling up to the station or if it was because he could sense your thoughts but he decided to break the silence.

“The asshole had it coming.” He spoke bluntly, as you opened his door and walked him inside.

“What did he do that warranted a busted lip?” you asked, slightly exasperated but mostly curious.

“He was making a girl at the bar uncomfortable, she asked him to stop and he didn’t. I stepped in, he swung, I dodged, I clocked him in the mouth, and he fell down.” He recounted simply, almost bored. He hasn’t changed, still ready to throw a punch for anyone in need. Just like-

Your stern look softens. “Why didn’t you tell security he threw the first punch?”

“Would he have believed me? I’m sure I haven’t been gone long enough for half the town to forget my reputation.” He says sitting in the chair next to your desk and crossing his tattooed arms across his chest. Those are new. Well, most of them.

“I suppose not, but at least I could have it on record that you tried.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” he raises his brows.

“Yes, you did.” you relent, grabbing a breathalyzer from your drawer. “Blow.”

He takes the device from you and does as instructed, presumably choosing to keep some sexual comment to himself.

“A .05?” You blink. “I thought he said you drank too much.”

“Probably assumed since I decked a guy in a bar.” He shrugs.

“I suppose, but how annoying.” you say slightly bothered by the fact that he had to tell you everything, and security didn’t even bother to ask people who started it. He chuckles at you.

You start typing away on your report, his story, his blood alcohol level, etc.

“Do you wanna press charges? He did try to assault you.” you question, pausing your fingers.

“No, but I think that woman should.” you smile.

“Okay, I have all the info I need. You have two options.” you turn to him. “I can drive you home now, or I could get you some coffee and you wait here until you blow a .02 then I’ll take you back to your car.”

“I take option B.” he says, tapping the corner of your desk as if to lock in his answer. “I don’t want to have to go get it tomorrow.”

“I’ll go get your coffee.” you go to get the two of you some much needed liquid energy. Normally, you wouldn’t just leave someone who was brought in for assault without cuffing them to your desk or asking someone to watch them, but you know him, and normally people wouldn’t voluntarily choose to hang out in a police station for any longer than they needed to. Tonight is full of many things outside the norm.

As you sit back down back down with your drinks, Taehyung returns from patrol duty, and beelines for Seokjin’s desk.

“Tag you’re it.” he says, patting Jin’s back, making him flinch.

“Officer Kim, don’t sneak up on me.” He says puffing out his chest.

“My apologies, Officer Kim.” they laugh. 

You miss the way Tae looks over at you, and his smile drops when he sees who is at your desk.

You and Jungkook sip your coffee with a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting or needing to address his long absence yet, not while you’re filling out a report with his name on it.

A couple hours pass like this, with you doing various paperwork, and him scrolling on his phone or staring into space. Yep, definitely hasn’t changed.

“Alright Jeon, once more.” you say handing him the breathalyzer again.

He does.

.01, good.

“Let’s get you to your car.” you stand, and walk out into the crisp dawn air.

The ride back doesn’t leave your mind swimming as much as the first time. There’s still a sizable elephant in the room, but the tension isn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined it would be.

You pull your car next to his, allowing him to return home. “Thank you.” He half smiles, unsure if he should say ‘see ya later’ or not, but you had a feeling you would soon.   — You awoke later that same day, when the peachy light of the sunset was flowing through your windows. Your shift at the station usually ran from midnight to ten in the morning, meaning you usually slept through most of the day. Though you didn’t mind, you’ve always been a night owl, nothing a little vitamin D supplements can’t fix.

Groaning as you roll over in your mess of blankets to check your phone, you find exactly what you were expecting.

Jimin (7:48pm): In need of stress relief, Doll? ;)

You (8:13pm): God, yes. When you couldn’t meet up last week I thought I was gonna implode :(

Jimin (8:15pm): Aw, you missed me? Cute

You (8:16pm): Don’t flatter yourself Park. I missed your dick

Jimin (8:17pm): I’m hurt :(

You (8:19pm): I’ll be over in 40. Be ready, handsome ;)

Jimin (8:19pm): :)

You toss your phone on your bed and get up to take a shower, a little hop in your step at the prospect of receiving an orgasm by someone else’s hand. And Jimin always delivered.

You wash your hair quickly, more concerned about shaving your legs for the first time in two weeks. After you’ve dried off, you lotion and perfume like normal. You slip on a tank top and leggings, knowing that he is a big fan of your ass. You take your uniform with you as well so you can head straight to work after your weekly dick transaction.

When you’re making your short drive to Jimin’s you find your mind wandering to Jungkook. How your heart skipped a beat when you saw him sitting on that curb. How he’s lost all the baby fat he used to hold in his cheeks, but his eyes still crinkle when he smiles. How having him stand in front of you for the first time in five years confirmed your adolescence wasn’t in fact a pipe dream your mind had fabricated after you decided to change everything you could. How though he’s jaded and may not know it himself, he’s the same boy you’ve always known. And how he still reminded you of-

But now wasn’t time to dwell, you’ve done enough of that. Tonight is supposed to be about the exact opposite. Free of stress. Free of thoughts. Only a couple hours of animalistic need. Then you could go back to reality.

“Hello y/n.” Jimin greets with a smile after your knuckles rap against his door. “Do you wanna talk? Before we…”

“Not really.” you answer a little too fast, crossing the threshold of his apartment.

“Works for me.” he says, noticing that you’re seeking more of the benefits than the friends side of this deal.

Without another word his hands are on your hips and his lips are on your neck, walking you backwards until your back is flush with the door. Noticing that you’re not in the mood for as much foreplay as normal, he immediately grazes his teeth against that spot on your neck that makes you sigh into his ear.

He’s always been very good at reading you, perhaps that’s why you agreed to this little arrangement. You’re not sure exactly how the two of you ended up fucking in the first place. Definitely had something to do with your collective blood alcohol level at the time. But when all was said and done that first time he told you he’d be more than willing to make it a regular thing. To make your shoulders relax every so often and it’s not as if he didn’t get anything out of it. Neither of you were in the headspace for a relationship, so the easy access to orgasms, with no strings attached was ideal for all parties involved.

Not that you weren’t friends outside his bedroom as well. You guys would hangout pretty often just as friends. You were fortunate that the line between your regular dose of stress relief and the platonic love you had for one another never blurred. Jimin was special in that regard.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and he takes the hint quickly pulling it over his head. You do the same, and his hands eagerly cup your breasts. He reattaches his lips to the sweet spot on your neck biting down harder this time causing a small whine to fall from your lips. He smirks against your skin and runs his tongue along your reddened skin to sooth it.

Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary you grab his hand and walk him to his bedroom. Once inside you put your hands on his chest and give him a firm push until his knees meet the edge of his mattress and he falls against it with a small bounce. When he falls back you remove your leggings and underwear, he does the same matching your urgency.

You climb over him planting your knees on either side of his hips, grinding your increasingly wet slit up his stiff length.

“You got hard pretty fast.” you say breath tickling his cheek and he slides his palms up your thighs to your ass, gently kneading the flesh in his hands.

“You said be ready.” he says smoothly, pushing his hips up to add to the friction on your clit. The extra contact catching you off guard making you place your hands on his shoulders for extra balance.

You feel his breath hitch beneath you when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to guide him to your entrance. You sit down a little slower than you want to due you being a little less wet than usual.

It was your doing, he would’ve been glad to work you up properly, but you were seeking a quick release. Caught somewhere between wanting to take your time so your escape will last longer and needing to reach the cloudy peak as quickly as possible, putting as much distance as you can between you and the thoughts that lay in the valley of your metaphorical mountain. Though it seems your body was choosing the latter for you.

You rock your hips against his, enjoying the way his cock drags against your g-spot, sending heat from your core to your toes. You pick up your pace a little allowing yourself to let go as much as you can, jaw going slack and eyes closing tightly. Jimin groans at the sight, reaching up to toy with your pert nipples.

A light layer of sweat forms over both of your bodies, heating the room like a makeshift furnace. A furnace made of hot skin and moans instead of fire.

You increase the speed of your hips on his until your thighs start to burn, the dull ache in your limbs only adding to the fiery one in your pelvis. Your pants grow louder as your end is nearly in sight.

“Jimin,” you gasp with a mouth like cotton. “I need more.”

Your request straight to the point, he moves his hands to your hips, rubbing your clit one thumb and using his other hand to keep you in place while he thrusts up to meet yours roughly.

“Umph- fuck!” your voice cracks as you fall onto his chest, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling to keep you grounded as your orgasm rips through you.

Jimin groans deeply in your ear, you can tell how your fists in his hair and your walls clenching around him brought him to his end by how desperate his thrusts became. You can feel his cock pulsing as he coats your core with his cum.

You both lay like that for a few moments, his softening dick still tucked safely within you and labored breaths creating a fog around your heads.

“Can I use your shower? I don’t wanna go to work smelling of sex.” you ask and he chuckles against your shoulder.

“By all means.”

“Thank you.” you say, for both the shower and the sex.

He grabs your hand when you go to stand from the damp fabric of his bed. “Are you alright?” he decides to pry for the first time tonight. “You haven’t been that down to business since that fight with your mom a few months ago.” he says, concern laced in his features.

“Yeah.” you begin unsure. “Just, something happened last night that brought up some memories.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he treads lightly, knowing what that statement could mean.

“I’ll be okay. You let me turn off my brain for a minute.” you smile and kiss his cheek.

“Happy to help. I’m here if you need anything.” he says with a stupid wink. Though you know he doesn’t just mean sex. Jimin has been a shoulder for you to cry on as long as you’ve known each other. You’ve always been there for him as well. A mutual understanding that you can come to each other for anything.

“I know, thank you Minie.” — You take a deep breath and run your hands through your hair, cursing the clock above the captain’s doorway that ticks just too loud for you to think. You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus on the text on your computer screen. You’re relieved when the phone on your desk starts to ring.

“Hello this is Officer l/n.” you say putting the phone to your ear, unfortunately excited about someone being in distress, but you’re about five minutes of screen time away from getting a migraine.

“Hello Miss l/n, this is Mrs. Choi,” here we go again. “I was wondering if you could send an officer to the house across the street? I think I saw some hoodlums trespassing.” and there it is.

“Of course Mrs. Choi,” you hold back a lengthy exhale. “I’ll go check it out, myself. Did you happen to see anything that could provide a description?”

“I’m afraid not dear, I only saw some trees rustling.” ah yes, the wind. Nature’s trespasser.

“Okay, I’ll take a look. Anything to help you sleep better at night, ma’am.” you smile as sweetly as you can despite her not being able to see you.

“Thank you Miss l/n.” she says promptly ending the call.

You let your breath out fully for the first time since the interaction began. And try your best to ignore how tense it makes you when she always calls you ‘Miss’ but calls all your male coworkers ‘Officer.’ You once put Jin in a choke-hold over a granola bar, you’re more than capable of holding your own, but that’s neither here nor there. Really.

“Mrs. Choi again?” Tae asks peering around the filing cabinet between your desks.

“The one and only.” you state. “She ordered the usual; someone to check the old abandoned house across from hers.”

“Well maybe if someone didn’t break into that place all the time in high school.” he says looking anywhere but at you.

“And now I’m the one who has to get rid of them. The world goes round, balance is restored. Hooray.“ you say feigning awe, he chuckles.

“Hey, I know how you are about that old place, do you want me to check it out for you?” Tae asks his expression morphing into worry.

“I got it, I’m okay. I need to stretch my legs anyway. But thank you Tae, really.” for the first few months you were a cop, you couldn’t even take the patrol route the old house was on without crying. He was always really nice about taking care of it for you. Officer Kim, always ready to jump in at a sign of distress, perhaps why he’s so good at his job.

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.” you hum an affirmative as you exit the building.

Though the bubble of anxiety in your stomach grows as you approach the run down house, it doesn’t spill out as tears anymore. You’ve come to accept this is as healed as your wounds will get.

You unlock the chain on the gate and make your way to the front door, knocking harshly before opening it.

“Police! Come out now and I won’t tell your moms what you’ve been doing!” you shout into the empty house. You’re sure the house is empty because every time there has been a few teens in here you can hear them run before you can even shout ‘police!’ but, you still need to do a walk through just in case.

Your cautious steps make the floorboards creak below you, the smell alone flooding your mind with memories.

There’s a sliding glass door in the back, that’s long since been shattered, where you used to sit and get a perfect view of the stars for hours with your first, and thus far only, love. 

Your mind wanders to when you used to play music off your phones and slow dance in the living room, skillfully avoiding the gaps in the old wood floor. It’s truly a wonder this place hasn’t been torn down yet, but you’re thankful, you don’t know if you could bear to see it go.

As you make your way down the dark hallway you get a small craving for a cigarette, having quit years ago now, but you can almost feel the dry paper on your lips as you make your way to the last bedroom in the house. You pause at the door.

Your eyes scan until they reach the corner of the room, pausing at the small carving in the wall. Your breath catches for the briefest of seconds when step close to it, tracing the heart with your fingers, careful to not get any splinters. Your fingers continue their journey, tracing the initials at its center with care.

Y/I + YG

“Babe! Angel! C’mere!” Yoongi’s smile beamed, gums and all.

“What?! What did you need to interrupt my sandwich eating to show me?” you follow his voice slightly annoyed, though you wondered why he disappeared for a few minutes, leaving you to munch in solitude. You had met here for a picnic, not uncommon for the two of you during the summer. He brought a blanket and you brought the burgers. You set up the picnic in the living room, with summer sun’s rays spilling through the old cracked windows, it’s a lot more beautiful than sitting in the middle of an abandoned house sounds.

“Look!” he says gesturing to the freshly carved wood on the wall, tucking his trusty knife back in his pocket.

“God, you’re so lame.” you smile and walk over to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to admire his handy work.

“If I’m lame it’s your fault.” me chuckles running his hand through your hair. “I suppose, loving you makes me this way.” he hums jokingly.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you look up at him, admiring the way the sun makes his bleached hair glow.

“You know I do right?” his tone drops a bit and his eyes search yours. “I love you.”

“Of course I know.” he only tells you everyday, yet you never tire of hearing it. You study his face, the slope of his nose and the little mole right next to it. His pink petal lips, that despite his reputation, you don’t know how anyone could be weary of a man with such beautifully delicate features. And his dark eyes that lighten only when he looks at you.

His gums return. He tilts your chin up to gently connect your lips. He tastes of the chocolate milkshake he drank not long ago, and you hum against his mouth.

“I love you too.”

The memory shifts, to one five months later.

“I love you too, angel.” his chilled lips peck yours, as he starts to climb out your bedroom window. The winter air makes you shiver when a gust of wind blows against your skin, with only your pajamas to keep you warm. Sometimes you’d sneak him overnight but with the first day back to school being tomorrow, it was too risky. If your mom caught him here again she’d have some choice words for the two of you, but she is a heavy sleeper, so as long as he left at a decent hour, nothing to worry about.

He hops down, his boots packing the snow beneath them when he lands. His head now a bit below yours as you lean out your first story window.

“Text me when you get home!” you remind him as he starts the small trek back to his car.

“Always!” he whisper-shouts back before disappearing around the side of your house.

You gaze up at the moon and take in a deep breath, trying to decide if the frozen air is refreshing or sharp on your lungs. You don’t take the time to figure it out before your window is shut and the air in your room feels hot against your cheeks.

You curl up in bed, and decide to scroll your various socials until your eyes get heavy.

You blink to help your eyes focus on the text on your screen, and decide to call it a night. You flick your eyes over to check the time.

2:30 am? Yoongi left at 2:00 and still no text? He’s always really good about telling you he got home, though he has forgotten a few times, no one is perfect.

“I’ll wait til he texts, he probably stopped for gas.” you mumble to no one.

2:45 am. You decide to text him.

You (2:46am): Love, did you make it home alright?

You (3:15am): I’m sure you just fell asleep.

You hit send trying to convince the panic knotting your stomach.

“He’s forgotten before, why am I freaking out so much?” you mumble to yourself rubbing your eyes. “I’ll just call him.”

My Love missed your call (3:23am)

My Love missed your call (3:35am)

My Love missed your call (3:42am)

“It’s Yoongi, leave your message after the beep.”

“Hi, I know that you’re probably just sleeping, and you’re gonna tell me that you’re fine in the morning.” you push out a laugh trying not to cry. “But I just can’t shake this feeling, so please please call me as soon as you wake up. I love you.”

My Love missed your call (4:01am)

You sit there staring at your phone in your hands, for a few minutes watching the clock on your screen change. Still nothing.

“Alright, fuck it.” you huff and grab your boots, shoving your feet in them and throwing on your jacket. You grab your keys and get in your car, you dial his number again while you start the engine, the route to his house flashing through your mind.

The dial tone in your ear stops ringing. “Thank fuck Yoongi!” the tears you’ve been holding back start to spill in relief. “You scared the-”

“This is Officer Jung.” a deep voice rings in your ear and your blood runs cold.

“What’s going on? What happened?” you ask frantic, the panic in your lungs turning into fire, the air feeling too thick to swallow.

“Ma’am, Min Yoongi was involved in an incident.” he says attempting to make his voice resemble something close to comfort. “The snow caught his tire and hi-”

“Is he okay?” you try to yell but your throat is closing.

“His car was pulled into a ditch, he-.”

“Is he fucking okay?!” your voice cracks and so does the dam holding back your tears.

“He didn’t make it.”

Your heart skips in a way you didn’t know it could, your body instantly too weak to hold itself or anything else. Your phone falls to the floor and your body falls against your steering wheel. You think you’re screaming but who can be sure with the ringing in your ears echoing in your skull. Your vision is blurred and your cheeks are wet. You were shivering when you climbed in your car but your skin has gone numb.

You don’t know how long you were crying in your car but by the time you were able to collect yourself enough to walk back to your bed your phone had no charge, and the sun had begun to rise.

When you finally turned your phone back on, you were flooded with people asking if you were okay, most of them you didn’t even know. After scrolling through your list of unopened texts, you answered only the one from his little brother.

Gukkie (7:38am): You okay?

You (8:44am): No

Gukkie (8:45am): Yeah, me either.

Now the ache is dull and the memories are faded. The anger and hurt that used to filter them turns more rosy as time goes on. And as with most wounds, there are scars. Love runs deep and Min Yoongi was your deepest river and your deepest cut.

You finish tracing the divots in the wood and smile bittersweetly. You place a kiss on the tips of your first and second fingers, you touch them to his initials and take a deep breath.

You let that breath go slowly as you walk out of the house, careful not to step on any of the less stable floor panels. Your lungs finally empty when you reach the gate where you can not-so-metaphorically lock up your past. — “Did you really need to cuff me?” you hear a familiar voice huff from behind you.

“Yes I did.” Tae grunts, you turn to see him holding Jungkook by the elbow before he  plops him down in the seat next to his desk.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” he says somewhere between sarcasm and defeat. He attempts to shift into a comfortable position, his cuffs against the metal chair hitting your ears in a less than pleasant way.

Jungkook glances your way and gives you a small nod when you catch eyes, and you do your best to pretend you meant to be staring at him. Though you’re sure he’s probably just as tense as you are. Police stations aren’t exactly the best place for a reunion. Especially twice.

“Name.” Taehyung states in a business-like tone.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Date of birth.” September first, 1997.

“September first, 1997.”

“Address.” 5235 west- shit I’m eavesdropping.

You shift in your seat and refocus on what you were doing before they came in. You try to at least.

Seokjin returns from his patrol route, entering the room the same as he always does, as loud as possible. “Tag you’re it!” he says with a childlike smile as he pats Tae on the shoulder.

“I’m kinda busy.” he gestures to Jungkook and his computer screen.

“I can take care of the report for you.” you butt in before you can think about the fact that you’re speaking. Tae slides his chair to your desk to get out of the other’s ear shot. “Do you really wanna deal with him? I know you’re not a big fan.” you lower your voice.

“Yeah, you have a point.” He thinks for a second, looking over at the man in question and grimacing slightly. “You sure?”

“Of course, I took care of him last week.” you say matter of factly. “And years before that.” you add after a beat. He nods in agreement, and grabs his jacket. “Change in plans Guk,” he smiles at the nickname he hasn’t heard from you in a long time. “You’re with me, Officer Kim has other business he needs to attend to.”

“Oh does he?” Jungkook mutters under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. He gets up from Tae’s desk and shuffles over to yours, his shoulders releasing slightly.

Without saying anything you unlock his wrists and set the cuffs on your desk, he rubs his skin a little too dramatically and you smile when he sits back in the chair looking more relaxed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook smiles. You miss the way Tae scowls at your gesture as he walks out of the building.

You start filing out the basics without question, as you know all the answers. He sits there tracing the walls with his eyes, far less entertaining than last week having already memorized the lack luster wallpaper.

“Alright Guk, what happened this time?” you say after a couple minutes.

“I didn’t fucking do anything.” he says widening his eyes clearly frustrated but not at you.

“It appears you did.” you say accusing him playfully.

“Seriously.” he relaxes a little. “I went to Red Eye again, I was minding my own business.” he points his finger at you in preemptive defense. “The same guy from last week-”

“The one whose face you busted?” you quip.

He stops, mouth slightly agape. “Yes, that one.”

“Continue.” you smirk and he glares at you slightly.

“I was sitting at the bar, he came up and started saying he could kick my ass for what I did. I told him to forget about it cause I wasn’t gonna fight him. He said I may look tough now but I’m still the same sixteen year old I was before everything. I got in his face, no fists mind you, and told him to fuck off. The security saw us yelling and told us we needed to leave, and I refused because I had done nothing wrong. He told me he would call the cops and the other guy left, but I sat my ass back down, cause The Man has never stopped me before. And bingo bango, Officer Pretty Boy cuffs me and I’m here.”

“You just can’t get rid of that rep of yours, can you?” you soften.

“I’m used to it, and it’s nothing I didn’t do to myself.” he shrugs. “Besides, I’d rather be feared than pitied.” his voice lowers, and your heart twinges.

“I don’t fear or pity you.” he smiles, not one of those smiles that’s big and all teeth, but one that’s small and warm. Jungkook had this way of saying everything he needed without speaking a word.

Silence falls over you while you finish writing the report. He didn’t do anything other than disturb the peace for a moment, no need for punishment harsher than a slap on the wrist.

“Ow!” he rubs his arm. “What the fuck was that for?” he questions, his brows furrow.

“It was a slap on the wrist.” you shrug. “You didn’t do anything that requires a fine or jail time, so you get a warning.”

“Aren’t you taking that a tad too literal?” he chuckles.

“I don’t think so.” you fight a smile. “I don’t wanna see you with flashing lights near you again unless you catch fire. Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” he playfully salutes, but he knows you’re serious.

“Would you like a ride back to your car?”

“I can walk, that’s not necessary.” he says standing up and waving you off.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the air will do me good.” his feet stutter. “Would you maybe want to get coffee on Wednesday? I didn’t imagine our reunion going quite like this.” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’d love that.” your eagerness to accept surprises you, and given the way he lights up, you surprise him too. — You mindlessly push the noodles you’ve been eating around on your plate letting the sound of other tables’ utensils clinking and your mother ramble on about her book club’s latest ventures buzz lowly in your head as you hum vague responses.

“… Jeon Jungkook moved back to town.” the mention of the name snaps you back into reality.

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, now at full attention.

“Have you heard he moved back to town?” she looks at you expectantly.

“I- um. I thought I saw him in the grocery store the other day, but I assumed I was seeing things.” you say keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“His mother is absolutely over the moon about it.” she says, wholly missing your lie as she was too excited at the prospect of telling you the latest gossip. Small town doesn’t leave one with much else to do.

“I’m sure she is.” you say and your chest can’t help but warm at the thought of Mrs. Jeon being so excited to see her son after he’s been gone for three years.

“She’s so happy he finally gave up on that god awful garage band.” she says, relief filling her face, and you roll your eyes. You had nearly forgotten he went to the city to make it big, you hadn’t ever doubted them, his voice alone was label worthy. “What were they called again? Red appendix?”

You blink. “Crimson Heart?” you offer her, knowing full well you’re correct.

“Ah right! That’s the one.” she says laughing at the, admittedly edgy, name. “I’m so glad he’s cleaning up his act, I expected better of him.” she adds, shaking her head. Your shoulders tense at her statement.

“Did you hear Jeon Jungkook got busted for spray painting the movie theater?” your mom questions as she leans on your door frame. Your face buried in some book you didn’t know the name of, as long as it had words in it. Mind numbing words.

“Um, no mom. I didn’t.” you mumble clearly uncomfortable with the subject. It was summer now, about six months since that night. The cold unforgiving weather that changed your world in an instant long since melted away, and as free as summer used to make you feel, it just feels hot and bitter against your skin.

“It just makes me sad, I expected better for him.” her voice solemn, clearly not ready to let the topic go.

You couldn’t muster a response that wasn’t yelling or trying to reason with her, which would get you nowhere.

“I never understood why you couldn’t have chosen the good brother.”

Your fingers clench around your book wrinkling the pages. She’d said that for years but sting you felt this time was far deeper.

“He was so studious and stayed out of trouble, but it looks like I was wrong.” she says, appearing more upset that her judgment was off, rather than the obvious issue at hand.

“Can we please not talk about them.” you plead softly, fighting your closing throat and watering eyes.

“Honey, I know you miss him, but look how much better you’re doing now! You’re reading for pleasure.” I’m reading so I can’t think. “You raised your GPA up almost a whole point before the year ended.” My test scores are the same, I just did my homework. “And I haven’t found cigarettes under your bed in months!” She seems most excited about that one. I’ll give her the smoking, they don’t fill my lungs the same way they used to. How can they when I can’t catch my breath?

Her attempt at comfort doing nothing but reminding you that you can’t be who you want to be anymore. You’d become someone who does any trivial task they can as not to spend too much time alone with their thoughts. Instead of someone who didn’t give a shit, did what they wanted to do, and most importantly had their love by their side. “Yeah, I guess not smoking anymore is good.”

“You know I always rooted for you two.” your mom says, her smile mischievous.

“I know, you always told me he was the ‘good brother’.” you try to conceal your eye roll at the same conversation you’ve had with her a million times.

“Before you and Yoongi got together, too.” she adds.

“What?” now this surprised you.

“His mom and I used to talk about how cute you’d be when you were all in elementary.” she remembers fondly.

You try to respond but you’re too shocked that her infatuation with Jungkook went past him being ‘so close yet so far.’

“Anywho, I just hope he can find the boy he used to be.” she hums.

You agree, but for largely different reasons. Your chest blooms at the thought of a smiling Jungkook.

“So do I, mom.” — Jimin (6:37pm): Hey Doll, in need of extra McLovin after lunch with The Wicked Witch of the West?

You (6:45pm): Actually, I feel okay Minie, but thank you

You (6:46pm): I’m doing better

Jimin (6:53pm): I’m proud of you, beautiful

You (7:04pm): Me too — When you walk into the coffee shop a few minutes before you were supposed to meet you’re surprised to see Jungkook already sitting at a small table by the wall of large windows with two cups of coffee placed in front of him.

“Hey Guk.” you sit down, shoulders relaxing.

“I got your old order, I hope that’s okay.” he smiles nervously.

“How the hell did you remember that?” you gasp, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’ve had a caffeine addiction since you were like fourteen, and you practically lived at my house.” he chuckled.

“I suppose you’re right.” you nod in agreement and take another sip, the drink making your taste buds dance.

“Listen,” Jungkook begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to apologize for the whole you arresting me twice thing.” he hesitates.

“Technically, I didn’t arrest you the second time.” you correct with a smile, trying to ease his obvious guilt.

“Still.” his voice insistent, almost stern. “That isn’t exactly how I wanted us to meet again after five years. It didn’t feel right to not fix it.” his face seeking the approval that his apology did, in fact, fix it.

“There was nothing to fix really, Guk. But thank you.” you soften. “I don’t think of you any different. How could I, given my past?” he chuckles at that. “And you got the shit end of the stick in both situations. I still know you’d never do anything truly bad, you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can bite?” he tongues the inside of his cheek smugly.

“Would you shut up?” his face shifts immediately, his eyes crinkling. “I’m serious.” you groan, but the heat threatening your cheeks and ears contradicts you. Well, that’s odd. Anyway.

“Okay.” he says after a beat. “C’mon y/n, I know you’re dying to know why I came back. Just ask.” he states, less than smoothly steering the conversation.

“Why would I wonder about you inexplicably reappearing after three years of nearly zero contact with anyone? It hasn’t crossed my mind at all.” your mouth laced with sarcasm.

“You think you’re so funny.” he squints. “I am.” you wave him off. “Alright, spill Rockstar, since you want to so bad. Why’d you give up living it up in the city to come back to all this?”

“Actually.” he laughs. “They kicked me out of the band like two years ago.”

You blink. “What? Why would they kick out their only talent?” you say screwing your brow in offense.

He nearly chokes on his coffee. He sputters trying to catch his breath, wiping his mouth on this arm. “Thank you.” he clears his throat. “But they were definitely better off without me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I wasn’t in the best place when the guys and I moved over there, for obvious reasons.” you nod. “I was getting black out drunk every other night. And writing songs that were just, not good. The kind of sad that isn’t relatable anymore, it was just painful and would make the crowds go silent.”

You grab his hand wishing you could’ve been there when he really needed it, but now will have to do. He smiles.

“The last straw though, was one night I got absurdly drunk right before a gig, and I thought I could handle it because I had been tipsy on stage before. They told me not to but I didn’t listen, and when I got to the song that I wrote about Yoongi, I just broke down sobbing on stage. I was embarrassed so I just fucked off out of the venue and kept running until I didn’t recognize where I was anymore.”

“Guk, I’m so sorry.” you squeeze his hand, and he rubs his inked thumb over you knuckles to tell you not to worry.

“No it’s okay, the guys found me the next morning, passed out in a Denny’s.” he chuckles stiffly. “They brought me home and told me that I needed to get help, they didn’t want to watch me self-destruct anymore, and at the time I was hurt but I’m grateful. It still took me a fucking while to work up the courage to come home, but if I didn’t have anyone tell me to try, I don’t think I’d be home now.” his expression turned from bitter to sweet as he recounted his story.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” he smiles, the stars in his eyes multiplying when he looks at you. “My dumbass fifteen year old self thought if I went dark side I could fill the hole he left, but I didn’t know what dark side really looked like until it was too late. Then it just became something I told myself so I didn’t have to face the fact that I was doing shitty shit.”

“You sound like you’ve taken a lot of time to reflect.” you say impressed.

“Limiting your alcohol intake to a normal human level will do that to you.” he chuckles.

“My dumbass sixteen year old self wasn’t much better, arguably worse.” you counter. “I thought if I got rid of everything in my life that reminded me of him, I could force myself to forget.” your face falls slightly. “Which is worse? Diving in head first or turning your back entirely?” you push out a sound that’s supposed to be laugh.

“I think both are pretty fucking miserable.” you both laugh, he gives you reassuring look. “But, tragic backstory aside. I wanted to come home to face the music and make amends with my mom.”

“My mom told me she’s very happy you’re home.” you can’t help but feel her relief.

“Yeah, I really put her through hell.” his guilt present in his expression.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” he relaxes, his gaze fixed on yours for a moment. There’s those stars again.

He blinks, snapping his attention to his coffee. “I’m gonna get a refill” he says, disconnecting your hands, that you had forgotten you were holding, to tap his empty cup on the table. “Do you want another?”

“Yes please.” you say turning to rummage in your bag for a few dollars to give him, but when you turn around he’s already in line. You deflate setting the cash in front of you.

Your eyes wander around the cafe, inspecting the comforting eclectic vibe it produced. Your gaze stops on Jungkook standing in line, studying how his features have changed, how he has grown a few inches, his shoulders have broadened and how you can see the way his bicep flexes ever so slightly when he takes the coffee from the barista. What the fuck? Did I just check him out?

You inhale sharply, turning your focus on anything happening on the street outside the window.

When he’s seated back in front of you, you slide the small bills in his direction. He promptly slides them back towards you and you glare at him.

“When did you get so hell-bent on being nice?” he smiles.

You scrunch your brows and drop your jaw. “What do you mean? I’ve always been nice?” you question in defense and he laughs.

“You used to make fun of me all the time.” he states, crossing his arms.

“I mean yeah, but like in a sibling banter type way.” you frown. “Did you really think I was trying to bully you?”

“No!” he reassures. “I mean it kinda sucked because…” he trails off and takes a sip of his coffee in an attempt to abandon his sentence.

“Because?” You’re not getting away that easy.

“You know it’s funny.” he breathes. “I used to have a huge crush on you.” he admits nervously.

“And?” you blink.

“And?” he echos. “No reaction? Not even a slight inhale?”

“I knew, Gukkie.” you break as softly as you can.

Now it’s his turn to be surprised. “You did?” his furrows his brows in offense.

“We both did.” you laugh lightly. “Why do you think Yoongi left an obnoxious amount of hickies on my neck?” you can’t help but cringe a little at the memory.

“That asshole!” Jungkook’s jaw drops, and you snort. “I just thought you were normal slutty teenagers.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t.” you add trying to contain your laughter at the attention his outburst brought you.

He throws you an accusatory squint. “You guys suck.” — “You didn’t need to walk me back to work.” you beam at Jungkook as you walk through the doors of the station. “I don’t need protection.”

“I know you don’t.” he defends. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” you laugh.

“What did he do this time?” Taehyung chimes in loudly from his desk.

You turn to face him. “Nothing, we just got coffee and caught up.”

His expression remains bitter and unconvinced. You opt for brushing him off.

“Thank you, Gukkie.” you smile when you turn back to Jungkook.

“No, you.” he says, patting your hair affectionately before he exits.

You stand at your desk, shifting various papers to pick up where you left off when you see Taehyung approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck, y/n?” he asks angrily, and you widen your eyes in confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“Listen, I get it.” he ignores you. “You let him off easy a couple times because you have history together or whatever. But now you’re going on a date with him?” he accuses.

“Tae, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he scoffs, and your jaw tenses. “I would never slack on my job. And that most definitely was not a date.” your words sharp, hoping you’ll get him to drop whatever bullshit this is.

“Then why would you let him go both times?” he crosses his arms waiting impatiently for a response.

“I didn’t ‘let him go,’ because we had no reason to keep him. It’s not illegal to defend yourself or to be a bit of a stubborn ass.” you defend, raising your voice. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure okay.” Tae says, clearly annoyed averting his gaze from you.

“I trust him, and you should trust me Taehyung. Why are you being like this?” your voice falling slightly. “Because, I care about you, and the kid is bad news. Do you not remember all that shit he pulled at the end of high school before he took off for several years? He can just show up and everything is heart eyes and open arms?” he says trying to convince you but all it does is make your blood boil.

“I appreciate your concern,” you bite. “But you don’t know him.” He shakes his head letting out a stiff laugh. “Figures you wouldn’t be able to read him, you always did know how to pick ‘em.” “What the fuck, is that supposed to mean?” you say all but seeing red, trying but failing not to yell.

He tongues his cheek and turns to walk back to his desk, very much done with the subject, but you were far from it.

“No!” you say following him. “You can’t just say that and then walk away. Explain yourself.” “I don’t know what the fuck is going on out here but it’s going to end right now.” Captain Kim Namjoon says sternly from his office doorway, arms crossed tight on his chest. “Our apologies, Sir.” you say, both of you bowing at him.

“Y/n, you look frazzled, go home and walk it off.” he offers pointing at the door. “Captain, we’ll drop it. I-” “It wasn’t a suggestion, Officer y/l.” he interrupts. “I expect you’ll be better tomorrow.” his voice a little softer now.

“Yes, Sir.” you bow again, and turn on your heals quickly, avoiding Tae entering your line of vision.

You white knuckle your steering wheel your whole drive home, you’re probably speeding but you can’t be bothered to check. What are you gonna do? Get pulled over?

When your car is parked, you fish your phone out of your pocket. You pull up Jungkook’s contact and your finger hovers over the call button for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to press it with him having been so happy when you two parted less than an hour ago. You opt for seeking comfort from someone else.

You (3:32pm): I need you

Jimin (3:35pm): I’m off in an hour <3 — Your chest rises and falls rapidly while you stare at Jimin’s ceiling, waiting for the normal relief that settles after you two have sex.

But even after you’ve caught your breath you still don’t feel it, the sweat covering your body starting to feel less like afterglow and more like guilt. Why won’t my chest unknot? We’ve hate-fucked countless times. What’s different?

You brush it off shaking your head in the hopes you can trick yourself into feeling normal, before you stand up to gather your clothes. You shudder at how sticky your skin feels against itself as you button up your shirt.

You decide some fresh air would do you good, and you open his bedroom window and take a breath and let the flowers outside fill your nose.

“You okay, beautiful?” Jimin’s voice sounds from behind you. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” you say before you can fully register what you’re saying. You turn to him, his towel hanging lowly on his hips and the hand tousling his damp hair stops in its tracks, his eyes widen. “Is the sex not good anymore? I thought you liked it when I bit your ass.” he chuckles through his worry. His joke makes you soften a little. “No, it’s not anything you did.” you say walking over to hold his hands. “Remember how I said I was doing better?” he nods, his worry fades into a smile. “Turns out that’s more true than I thought it was.” you say and as the words leave your mouth, your body finds that relief it was looking for. Feeling like, for the first time in forever you don’t need to escape your own mind for a minute to function. “Is there a guy?” he quirks a mischievous brow. “Are you ready to be monogamous?” he gasps dramatically. You shove his shoulder while he giggles. “No guy, I just…” you think for a moment. “Don’t need to forget anymore.” you breathe, lungs feeling lighter, and he smiles brightly.

He hugs you tightly. “I really am proud of you, y/n.” he says into your hair. You smile against his shoulder. “Me too.”

You break the hug and he frowns slightly. “Guess it’s you and me for a while now bud.” he says looking at his palm.

“Jimin, I just had an emotional epiphany, and it only took you two seconds to be gross again?” “That’s why you love me.” he laughs trying to give you another hug. You laugh, pushing him by the shoulders. “Fuck off, Park.” — The sun hits your skin warming it despite the cool breeze, music playing your ears as your feet keep a steady rhythm against the pavement below you. Your late morning jog becoming more of a nature walk with the changing seasons. The greenery returning and the sweet smell it provides makes your limbs feel a bit lighter. You nearly throw a punch when someone starts jogging next to you. You stumble slightly after you nearly run into a sign. When you pull your ear buds out he’s laughing at you.

“Careful there.” Jungkook laughs, continuing to match your pace. “You scared the fuck out of me.” you huff steadying yourself. “What are you doing?” “Um-” He looks at you and then his feet. “Jogging?”

“Astute observation,” you smile in spite of yourself. “I mean why are you following me, creep?” you laugh. “I was jogging on the other side of the street and when I saw you I thought I’d join.” he shrugs. “I guess that’s allowed.” Neither of you talks for a few minutes, nothing but your shoes fitting the sidewalk and your heavy breaths filling your ears.

Normally with a silence like this your mind would shuffle through the files of your mind, bringing a similar memory to the forefront, good or bad. But you come up blank. You inhale deeply deciding to file this under ‘Something New.’

“Are you getting tired?” He asks. “No?”

“Good.” he smiles and tries to wink before he picks up his pace, pulling ahead of you. “A race? What are you, twelve?” you laugh running faster.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over me winning!” he calls over his shoulder, and you groan at the considerable distance he’s put between you.

“You’re an asshole!” you pick up your speed fully running ahead of him.

You laugh and chase each other halfway across town, if you could see how you look you would probably be embarrassed, but you can’t be bothered to think about anything but the wind hitting your face and the idiot you’re running with.

He stops in front of a small market, and contrary to how you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs feel fuller than they have in years.

“Do you wanna get ice cream?” he questions, eyeing the banner in the store window.

“Won’t that negate all the exercise we just did?” you breathe, wiping sweat off your forehead. “And?” “You make a strong argument.” you say pushing the door to the corner store open and sighing when the air condition hits you like a refreshing wall. You walk straight to the large freezer to pick out your respective flavors.

You wordlessly decide to walk home in favor of more running, talking about nothing between bites of your cold treats, and you can’t help but think the flowers smell a little sweeter. — You have more work to catch up on than you normally do, you opt for having lunch at your desk so you can work through your break. You have your lunch to your side as your fingers click away on your keyboard.

Something being placed gently on your desk draws your attention away from your screen. You look over too a coffee cup with ‘I’m sorry’ written on it and with a sheepish looking Tae with his hand still wrapped around it. “I’m sorry.” he says looking guilty. “Tae-”

“I acted like a complete ass the other day.” he interrupts before you can even fully think of a response. “Well I won’t argue with that.” you soften and he looks the slightest bit relieved. “I just care about you, and I don’t trust him.” he reiterates his statement from a few days prior.

“This apology was going so well.” you half laugh.

“But!” he adds quickly. “But, I trust you. And if you trust him, then that’s good enough for me.” he says with large eyes, nudging the coffee toward you in the hopes you’ll accept his regret. “Thank you, Tae.” you say taking a sip of the bittersweet drink, appreciating his sincerity. Truth be told, you had already begun to forgive him, he just wants you to be happy. If he expresses his concerns in a less assholistic way next time, you’d be happy to listen. “And I won’t stand in your way if you want to date him.” he smiles. “Like you could, I can kick your ass Kim.” you laugh. “And what is it with you and us dating? I promise you, it’s not like that.”

“Awfully defensive for someone who has no reason to be.” he eyes you with a stupid smirk.

“I just forgave you, don’t push it.” you point a finger and he raises his hands in defense though he doesn’t drop the taunting smirk on his face. He walks backwards to his desk and sits in his chair giving you a nod as one last confirmation that you’ve forgiven him. You continue your work, the air feeling light in the station for the first time since your fight. So focused on your pile of tasks you don’t even notice it’s dark out until the phone rings and makes you look up from your computer.

“Hello, this is Officer y/l.”

“Hello dear, this is Mrs. Choi.” she says sweetly. It’s like clockwork with this fucking lady. “Could you possibly send an officer to this side of town? I saw a young man in a black hoodie hop the fence to the old place.” Well that is far more description than usual.

“Of course, I’ll go make sure everything is okay.” you reassure.

“It’s appreciated as always, Miss y/n.” she says before she hangs up.

“Mrs. Choi?” Tae asks lazily, not even lifting his eyes from his computer.

“Yep.” you say tossing your jacket on.

“Do you want me to check on it?” now he’s looking at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” you smile. More than fine this time.

Your drive to the old house feels way more like a normal patrol than it ever has, the air feeling like a fog has been cleared. Or perhaps you’re just getting a little too used to Mrs. Choi’s usual request.

You walk down the familiar dirt driveway and your eyebrows furrow when you see a light in the window. Incredible, the old woman who cried wolf is actually right.

“Police!” you shout before you turn the doorknob, your guard not too high as you’re expecting a harmless teenager. Though you’re surprised when you find Jungkook sitting against the wall at the edge of the tattered living room, his legs bent with his forearms resting on them and a bottle of whiskey by his hip. “I’m not here to damage any property.” he says calmly, raising his hands above his head in a lazy surrender. “What are you doing here?” you ask and point your flashlight at the ceiling to better light the space, the light on his phone not doing very much by itself.

“It was something of a quiet place for me. I guess old habits die hard.” he said patting the dusty wall he’s leaning against.

“It was for me too.” you breathe, you look around the room taking in how it’s become even more run down and not quite as beautiful as you remember but breathtaking even without the fantastical dream cloud your memories have become muddled with. “Did he bring you here too?” he looks at you through his messy hair, much more practiced than you at bringing Yoongi up in conversation.

“Yeah he did.” you smile fondly. “We used to have picnics here all the time during the summer.”

“Sounds romantic.” he says, with a comedic scoff.

“Hey, for a sixteen year old? Peak romance.” you retort and he chuckles, letting his head fall against the wall. “He never told me he brought you here too.” you furrow your brows. “Makes sense though, it was his favorite place.” “Yeah, he brought me here a few times when he could ‘remove the stick from my ass.’” he laughs at the memory. “I never understood, there’s about three inches of dust on everything and all the windows are cracked.” he shakes his head. “But after he was gone, it was the most peaceful place I could find. There’s no place as serene as these four shitty walls.” he smiles looking up at you. “It was far less peaceful for me after the accident. The silence coming from this place was deafening for a long time.” you take a seat next to him. “But it’s not so bad anymore.” you hum, eyes scanning the room. You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes letting the sound of the crickets fill your ears, doing your best to not disrupt the stillness around you.

“I want to thank you.” your mouth making the decisions for you once again. “I missed you a lot and spending time with you has been really nice. I’ve been able to face things again that I didn’t think I ever would.” you steady your breath. “So, thank you.”

“I should thank you too.” he begins, and you turn to watch the way his profile moves when he speaks. “I can’t recall a time I smiled when thinking of him. It feels nice to reminisce, not just remember and wish he was still here.”

“God, he wouldn’t recognize either of us.” you say looking down at your uniform and Jungkook’s dirtied jeans.

“He’d kick both our asses.” you laugh.

“You know for a long time,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I was upset because I lost the boy I was in love with.” he shifts a bit. “But somewhere along the way, it became less about being in love and more that someone I cared for so deeply was gone. I don’t know when or where I fell out of love, but it took me a long time to realize that I had.” “I don’t think falling in or out of love can be pinned to a single moment. You just kinda have to take a step back every so often to assess how fucked you currently are.” he laughs, leaning his head on yours. “How vulgar yet profound.” you smile and lace your fingers together. Your mind is running at a dull roar. You had never actually said you weren’t in love with Yoongi out loud before, not even to yourself. You suppose on some level you’ve known for years but saying it made you aware of just how true it was, like you’d been standing on a diving board for ages and finally took the leap that wasn’t so scary after all. You’d still give your left arm to have him there with you now, whether you were still just as in love or maybe just a friend. You still loved him but maybe… I’m not in love anymore. Before you have a chance to explore that thought further you feel Jungkook’s lips on yours, you gasp slightly and move your mouth with his, humming at how soft his lips are.

Despite your realization, when you close your eyes you’re overwhelmed with how familiar this feels. The stale smell of the wood around you and images of Yoongi kissing you right where you’re sitting flashing through your mind. Suddenly your heart is beating in your ears and just as quickly as it began you break the kiss.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry.” he says when his eyes meet yours again. “No don’t be, it’s okay.” you say, trying but failing to keep your voice steady as you stand. He gets up to follow you but his feet seem to be stuck. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” you force a smile. “I should get back to work, I’ll see you Guk.” You say trying to ignore how your throat wants to close. He doesn’t answer, just watches as you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the empty house. The sense of serenity he found within these walls fades as the light of your flashlight gets further away.

You pull out of the driveway, and remember why you were here in the first place when you see Mrs. Choi’s house across the street. You decide to say fuck it and drive back to the station and hope that she just went to bed. — You (2:30am): Sorry I left. I just need to think

Jungkook (2:37am): No I’m sorry, take your time

You read the same two texts over for what has to be the three hundredth time in the last few days. For a long time you stared at it unsure if you should respond, and then too much time had passed.

Not even texting could be simple with Jungkook.

But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.

Just like the texts you play the kiss in your mind on a loop, your lips tingling at the memory. The old house under your feet and Jungkook’s arms around you crosses too many wires in your brain for anything to make sense.

All you know is… when he kissed your lips you felt like you could breathe again. — You’re sitting on your couch when you hear a frantic knocking at your door. You jump at the sound and check the time. 11:30? What the hell? Your training kicks in and you approach your door and open it slowly.

“Okay listen, I’m so fucking sorry.” Jungkook rambles frantically pushing past you beginning to pace around your living room. “It was fucked up to kiss you, but I just- your eyes looked so beautiful and- shit that’s not the point.” he runs a hand through his hair trying to collect his thoughts. “Guk, it’s okay. You don’t need to-”

“I know what I did was shitty but we haven’t talked in days, and I can’t bear to not have you in my life again.” he’s on the verge of yelling at this point. “This time since I’ve been home with you is the most alive I’ve felt since I was fucking fifteen.”

“I’m not upset with y-”

“I know, I wouldn’t forgive me either, but I needed to try and-”

“Oh for fucks sake.” you mumble as he continues to ramble. You take in a breath. “I wanted you to kiss me!”

“I-” he finally stops, nearly out of breath. “You what?” “I wanted you to kiss me, that’s what scared me.” you clarify now that he’s listening.

He just blinks unsure of what to say. He imagined this going far differently, something more along the mine of you slamming the door in his face, but you didn’t and his heart swells as he takes in your words. “I want it too.” you continue though you’re unsure where you’re going. “I love you, Jungkook, and I can’t get your stupid pretty smile out of my head and-”

“You love me?” the words falling from his mouth softly, and his gaze fixes on your face.

“Yes.” you breathe realizing what you just said. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m in love with my deceased brother’s ex.” he counters, laughing at how ridiculous your situation is, and your heart can’t help but race at his bittersweet words. “But you’re the first time I’ve felt home in forever.” he says, his eyes hiding behind messy bangs.

“Me too.” you admit, and the air in your lungs feels lighter. “I know he would want us to follow our hearts but… like this?” you ask sheepishly, maintaining the distance between you as if neither of you are allowed to cross the invisible threshold.

“I think that even if you guys got the opportunity to break up like two normal ass teenagers…”  he begins, his face full of concern but his eyes filled with the hope that you’ll agree. “He always wanted everyone he cared about to be happy, and fuck y/n, you make me so happy. You always have.” There’s those stars again.

“But I feel guilty.” your eyes threatening to water for the first time in a long time, and your lips tingle at the memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours. “Me too.” he takes a step closer to you. “But we don’t have to. We can-” “No, you don’t understand.” you interrupt and he deflates. “I feel guilty because even though we’re talking about him… I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me again.” “Fuck, okay.” he says as if you had just stolen the air from his lungs. He quickly closes the gap between you and reconnects your lips. You put your arms around his neck and attempt to pull him as close as you can, his hands are warm on your jaw and the dream cloud in your mind feels as if it’s been wrapped around the two of you. A blanket of home that you didn’t know had been missing until you had it again.

You run your fingers through his hair and savor how it feels in your hands. He licks into your mouth and his heavy breaths feel hot between kisses. He feels almost frantic as you feel his nails gently dig into the sides of your neck, as though you’d slip out of his grasp if he doesn’t tighten his grip, the dull pressure making you moan into his mouth.

You put your hands on his and he relaxes his fingers. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it lightly and he groans at the sensation, your thighs rub together at how you’re affecting him.

You wordlessly guide him to the couch and nudge him gently until his shoulders are flush with the back of the couch. You straddle him and his thighs flex underneath your ass, you resist the urge to grind down onto him in favor of kissing along his jaw.

His tense shoulders release under your hands as your lips continue their path to his neck. Your teeth graze his skin and his breath catches in your ear, you smirk and bite down harder. His hands quickly grab onto your hips squeezing them in tandem with your mouth, you run your tongue along his reddened skin and your sounds create the most beautiful harmony you’ve ever heard.

Your hips give into temptation and grind down on his hardened dick, the layers between you not doing much in the way of friction but the way his hands tighten around your waist send heat through you melting you from the inside out.

Your hand snakes between you to palm him through his jeans and you move your head up to face him, to see how sweet he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted from your touch. He reconnects your mouths and the kiss is messy as neither of you can properly think.

You break the kiss and quickly slip to your knees between his thighs. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pause your movement, eyes searching for his. “Is this okay?” you ask with a slight tug to his pants, he answers by smirking lazily and helping you slide them down his hips.

You pull his boxers down and your mouth waters when you see his dick, the tip a frustrated shade of red. You run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of this length, wrapping your lips around it when you reach the tip. He groans as if he’s relieved to finally have your lips wrapped around him. He grips your hair tightly, fingers flexing against your scalp as he fights the urge to push your head down to his base.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.” he says out of breath, working against his flexing abdomen to keep his voice steady. You hum around him in response making his hips stutter against your mouth, and arousal pools at your core.

You sink your mouth as far down as you can and he moans deeply holding your head in place beginning to thrust into your mouth to test the waters. You grip his thighs to ground yourself and do your best to ignore the way your lungs are beginning to burn. He picks up his pace and you take his cock in your throat until tears prick in your eyes. You tap his thigh and he takes the hint releasing your head so you can breath again.

“You like having your pretty mouth fucked, don’t you?” he questions as he wipes a tear from your eye with his thumb. You nod eagerly and move to take his cock back in your mouth but his grip on your hair stops you. “Patience beautiful,” his eyes darken looking at your swollen lips. “Open.” he says, his voice low. You oblige, flatting your tongue for good measure, he spits in your mouth and his cock twitches at the sight. He lowers your lips back on his dick, the extra wetness making him groan at how messy you look, and you try to keep your throat as relaxed as you can, doing your best to ignore the growing arousal between your legs.

He breaks his assault on your mouth, pulling your head up with a wet pop and you gasp. “Can I taste you too, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly despite how ready he looks to devour you.

“Yes Sir.” you answer and his pupils twitch at the name.

“You’re gonna ruin me.” he laughs stiffly, releasing your hair and you realize how sore your scalp is.

You stand on shaky legs, he sheds his shirt and you follow suit before laying on the couch in front of him. You tuck your fingers in your waistband but he stops you. “Let me.” He says his eyes softening and you relent.

He puts his large palm on your waist and kisses your lips slowly contradicting his previous actions. He leaves hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and down your chest, the wet trail he leaves behind feeling cold when the air hits it. He wraps his mouth around one of your hardened nipples, swirling his tongue and teasing his teeth on the sensitive skin.

Your moan catches in your throat as he bites down and your hand tangles in his hair trying to pull him closer. His free hand runs up your arm removing it from his head and pinning against the cushion gently, you lace your fingers together and you can feel him smile against your chest.

His mouth doing little to relieve the real fire you’re feeling growing deep in your abdomen. You give into the urge to move your hips against his waist and he chuckles deeply taking the hint and continuing his path down your stomach, nipping at your skin when he reaches the hem of your pants.

His breathing picks up again as he slips your pants down your legs and the wet spot on your underwear is exposed to his gaze. He takes his time removing your panties, reveling in the string of your slick that follows. “Such a pretty pussy.” he breathes quietly just to himself.

He tosses them on the floor and eagerly puts your thighs on his shoulders placing gentle pecks anywhere but where you need his mouth. You roll your hips to meet his face and he smirks darkly at your frustration. After properly enjoying your wordless plea he gives you what you want, licking a long flat stripe from your entrance to your clit and you whine at the small bit of relief he’s giving you.

“Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock, sweetheart?” you deflate slightly at his teasing and nod, clenching around nothing at his words. He swallows a groan at the sight in front of him.

He wastes no time wrapping his lips around your clit, swirling tongue in delicious circles. A moan rips out of your throat at the sudden stimulation and he groans wrapping his arms tighter around your thighs.

You move your hips against his face and he shifts his mouth to collect your juices on his tongue before moving back up to your clit. You fight how your thighs want to close around his head but he only presses himself further into you at the shaking against his ears.

You feel him at your entrance, stretching you slowly with two fingers as he continues his work on your clit. He curls his digits into you and your hips buck at the sensation.

“That’s my good girl, fuck yourself on my tongue.” he moans into your folds, flattening his tongue for you to use. He picks up the pace of his hand and you rut against his mouth. The sounds you’ve been swallowing down flowing out of your lips before you can stop them.

“Jungkook, fuck!” you whine and he scissors his fingers faster to bring you to your rapidly approaching peak. Your walls clench and your rhythm falters, he wraps his lips around your clit sucking as he does. Your orgasm rips through you and onto his fingers with a loud moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” he says breathless, he almost sounds amazed that someone can look so beautiful when they cum.

He quickly climbs over you, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand and reconnecting your lips as soon as he reaches your face, he can’t get enough of your lips and you moan at your taste on his mouth.

He slips his pants down his legs, and lines himself up with your entrance, gasping at your wetness on his painfully hard cock. His eyes widen “I didn’t bring a-”

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure, grinding up against his dick.

“Thank fuck.” he sighs, pushing his cock in as he does. Your eyes close at the stretch he’s providing. He pushes in rather slowly savoring every small clench and twitch your walls give him.

He’s quick to pick up the pace seeing as you were more than happy when he was rough earlier. You moan at how well he fucks into you, you hold onto his arms as you’re afraid you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself. He smacks his hips against you harder and you gasp at how deep he is, trying your best not to yelp.

He wraps his arm around your back and takes a handful of your hair, yanking against your sore scalp until your chin is pointing at the ceiling, and you can’t contain your moans with your neck so open. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Give me all those beautiful sounds.” he says into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck.

With your new position you’re a moaning mess underneath him and you feel him smirk against your skin as he delivers particularly hard thrusts, the sound of your moans and slapping skin filling the room..

He continues his relentless pace, watching you in awe. “Such a pretty slut.” he groans. “Look at you falling apart on my cock.” you can only whimper in response. He rubs your clit so he can watch your eyes roll back, doing his best to ignore his approaching orgasm so he can feel you cum again on his cock.

“I’m- fucking- I’m gonna-.” you try to warn doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Good girl, cum for me, beautiful.” he soothes, lacing his finger with yours, mumbling praises into your ear as you clench around him, his hips work hard to keep their pace through your orgasm.

With his not far behind, he thrusts faster finally letting go. He reconnects your lips, the kiss hot and messy as his end is finally in sight.

His hips stutter. “I love you.” He breathes as he releases into you, falling against you shortly after and you laugh, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes while he catches his breath.

“I love you, too.” you whisper and he hums holding you tightly.

“I could get used to hearing that.” he smiles brightly, before he kisses you slowly. — “So…” you begin after the two of you are showered. Jungkook is sitting on the end of your bed ruffling his damp hair. “So?” he perks up, taking your hands in his. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you say squeezing his hands, still a little nervous despite the several ‘I love you’s and how your heart pounds when you look in eyes. Still a little nervous that if you hold on too tight he’ll slip through your fingers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” he says leaning into your touch, and his words calm your racing heart.

“Okay.” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but mirror you.

“Hey.” he says, making sure you’re giving him your full attention, and you meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” — You stand next to Jungkook, fingers laced tightly together, as you stare down the familiar dirt driveway.

“You ready?” he asks, still looking straight ahead at the chicken wire fence.

“No.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He squeezes your hand in his as you walk through the dirt and into the old house, same as you left it. You walk past the living room into the furthest bedroom where Yoongi’s mark is most prominent in the house. You stop at the corner where he carved that heart in the wall that, besides some dust, looks just like the day he put it there.

“Hi Hyung,” Jungkook begins. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to talk to you in a long time.” he looks a tad nervous as if he’ll be reprimanded, he squeezes your hand and you rub your thumb over his knuckles. “I found her,” he says, sounding more sure of himself. “And I wanted you to meet her. Are you surprised?”

“We are too.” you breathe out a laugh. “Hey Yoongs,” your voice is a little shaky. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I just didn’t know how.” you breathe. “I miss you, and I want you to know that I’m happy.” you reassure, remembering how he always checked. “We’re happy.” you put your other hand on Jungkook’s.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” He adds, placing a kiss on your temple.

“And I’ll take care of him.” you say, and you both put your hand on the heart gently. That final breath that was taken from you those years ago returns and your lungs finally feel full again, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I love you, angel.”

————————

A/N -> Hello! I hope you liked it!!! I’m really proud of this one, feel more than free to send me an ask with your thoughts, I’d love to know what you thought. <3

Tag List -> @ancailinaerach​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @bunnyboyenthusiast​ @singularity-mp3​ 

[cherrybracelets]

Politics & Violence (one)

masterlist | requests

summary: Your father is one of the most progressive presidents in history, and many praise you and your family for all the good you’ve done for the country. But there is a select group of radicals who plans to take the entire administration down, and the threat to you and your family is growing every day. Your father takes matters into his own hands when he hires individual body guards for each member of your family.

pairing: bodyguard!a. hotchner x presidents daughter!reader

words; 11.5k warnings: this fic will be 18+!!! lots of heavy stuff, drugs, alc, depression, sex, guns, violence, death 

song inspo: politics and violence by dominic fike

an: hey this is my first hotch piece and I’m super nervous so please let me know what u think!! i will be making a full playlist for this fic and a moodboard so keep ur eyes peeled; this is also obviously non canon and the backstory hotch has here is completely made up by me also this is gone be two parts ok bye

Being the daughter of the president was hard enough, it doesn’t make it any easier that you’re fucking your bodyguard. You wouldn’t trade Hotch for the world, but it was exhausting keeping up with this life sometimes. You never thought of yourself as someone who would get entangled up into a secret like this. You felt it weighing on you all the time. Every secret glance between you two in the hall, every ‘accidental’ touch at an event, the secret kissing in the closets with the door locked and the lights off. It was a thrill, but also added unneeded strain to your life. 

Hotch saw the effects he had on you, too. Both negative and positive. He knew that the love you two shared, the passion between you, would be unmatched with any other person. But he also knew how hard it was to keep that love a secret, to not hold hands in public, to lie to all of your friends and family. Most importantly, to lie to your dad. Loving him, being with him, it was a sacrifice. 

Your dad had spent the past 23 years of his life doing everything he could to protect you. He hated that he brought you into this life; he hated this life himself. All he wanted was to help people, and he thought the best way would be politics. But he didn’t know that with his more modern takes, many people would hate him. And it got so bad that last year you started receiving death threats. A group of radicals had recently started sending individual letters to your whole family, making it clear how much they hated you and what your family stood for. 

It was terrifying. And you were tired of it. You had been dealing with it your whole life, as he had been an important politician for a long time before winning the presidency. The cameras following you everywhere you went, never having real relationships with anybody because people just wanted the clout that came with knowing you. You were miserable, and were only finding happiness in the darkest of places, ironically. Partying, alcohol and drugs had taken over most of your nights, with a group of people who you wouldn’t really call your friends, but people who had allowed you to be miserable with them. 

You had never really had friends, besides your siblings. People always wanted to be your friend, but almost never for genuine reason. And when someone was being genuine, which was rare, you had a hard time trusting and ultimately hurt the person to avoid being hurt yourself. It was a terrible cycle that you’d been dealing with for... a long time. Twenty three years to be exact, because the night of your twenty third birthday was when it all changed. 

Your dad had called everyone to the house for a family dinner. At the time, you were living in some tiny studio across town, and your brother was shacking up with some girl he knew from college. It was pretty rare to get all of you together in one place, but for you and your brother, Matt’s birthday, it was extra important that everyone was there. 

Your father always blocked out his schedule for birthdays, they were a big deal to him. And although you were dreading having to put on your happy face for an evening of passive aggressive comments and awkward small talk, you did it for him. He was the only member of your family who deserved even a second of your time. 

So that night, you drove to your parents house, reminding yourself that it’s only a few hours and everything will be fine. There won’t be any issues, you and Matt won’t fight, the two younger siblings won’t fight, mom and dad won’t fight. No one will fight, you promised yourself. You’ll hold it together. You practiced your smile as you pulled in the driveway, hoping to not be too disingenuous when you saw everyone.  

None of them were especially bad people, they just all had a lot of problems, and were especially bad at dealing with them. But, so were you. Comes with the territory of being a high profile political family, apparently. You already saw Matt’s car there as well, which made you nervous. Matt and your mother being alone together for very long without you to interject was never good. It could already be a disaster as soon as you walk in. 

You got out of your car and walked slowly to the entrance, your head down. You didn’t like making eye contact with the secret service, they always made you incredibly nervous. They stood so still, but their eyes always followed you like a haunted painting. Someone opened the door for you, and you stepped through the entrance to an empty hall. You assumed they were in the dining room already, waiting for you. 

As you walked there, you noticed an unusual silence of guards and other employees. Most people at least said hi to you as you walked by, but there was nothing tonight. Every face you passed was buried in paperwork or their phones, looking worried. When you finally arrived to the dining room, you walked into an unusual silence. There were quite a few guards that you hadn’t recognized, one specific one watching you intently as you greeted your family and sat in between your dad and Matt.

“Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence, princess,” Matt grumbled, raising his eyebrows in discontent as he shifted in his chair. 

“I’m like, five minutes late dude, can you relax?” You protested, crossing your arms in frustration and avoiding looking at him. 

“Guys, please don’t do this, not tonight for God’s sake,” your father interjected, his teeth tightly clenched together as he stared daggers at the two of you. His forehead was sweating, and his nails were bitten down to the point of bleeding. It had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him, but he was not like this before. Something was happening, and you felt your stomach turn as you looked around the rest of the table and realized you were the only one out of the loop. 

“What is happening with everyone right now?” You looked at your dad first, hoping he would step in and explain the obvious elephant in the room. 

“Someone is trying to kill us all,” your little brother, Charlie, blurted out. He was young, only ten, and clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation. 

“Jesus, Charlie, way to freak her out,” your sister yelped, pushing him slightly. 

“Charlie, Dani, both of you shut up!” Your mom yelled, slamming her fists down on the table loudly and making you all jump.

“Everyone, relax, okay,” your dad instructed calmly. It used to be you, mediating every fight and solving every issue. But you couldn’t do it anymore, and your dad knew. He needed to step up and fix the shattered remnants of your family. Unfortunately, that was a harder job than being the president. 

“There have been some… issues, with this radical group based in Virginia. I get threats all the time, but, they are threatening each of you now. And I’m not going to put up with that. So, there’s going to be some changes around here.” 

“Yeah, go ahead and tell her about how we have to move back home,” Matt objected.

“What?”

“It’s only temporary, (Y/N). We are doing everything we can to catch the guys who are doing this. But for now it is safest for all of you to be home.” 

“I have a life, Dad. I can’t give up everything because you did some things that pissed people off.” 

“Don’t be so selfish, (Y/N), this is about all of us, not just you.” Your mom took a long sip of her wine and sat back in her chair, preparing for the yelling that was about to ensue. 

“You all each have a personal bodyguard as well, with high levels of combat training. They will be with you all day, everywhere you go. At night there will be a rotated shift of guards outside your doors.” 

“Oh, wonderful.” 

“Aaron, why don’t you come meet my lovely daughter,” your father muttered, motioning to one of the men standing behind him. As you suspected, the man who had not taken his eyes off of you since you arrived took a few steps forward, nodding respectively at you. 

“At least yours is hot,” your brother whispered to you, rolling his eyes. 

“My name is Aaron Hotchner, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He stuck his hand out to you, and you grabbed it reluctantly, shaking his hand lightly. His touch was gentle, but his hands were strong and large compared to yours. He definitely looked the part. 

“What about my trip next week?” You questioned, turning away from Hotch and back to your dad. “I’m supposed to go do that college campus tour in California. I leave in two weeks.” 

“We all think you should still take that trip, it’s only a few weeks and Aaron will be with you the entire time. I don’t think the jet is a good idea, though. We’re going to have you fly commercial.”

“First class, I hope?” Your brother and mom both collectively rolled their eyes, and you just ignored them and continued to stare at your dad, awaiting his answers. 

“Of course, darling.” He smiled politely, hoping to end the conversation here and get on with dinner. You decided it wasn’t worth pressing it, seeing how clearly your dad was falling apart, you didn’t want to add anymore stress to him. 

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, for a change. You all made small talk, caught up on work and school- pretty boring stuff. The whole time, you felt his eyes on you. When you looked at him, he dragged his eyes away slowly, as if pretending he wasn’t watching your every move. You weren’t sure why he kept looking away when you noticed him- it was his job to watch you. It was almost as if the thought of your eyes meeting scared him. 

The most exciting part about a dinner with your family was when you could finally leave and go home- but tonight, unfortunately, you did not have that luxury. Your bedroom here was already prepared, and you always had a few spare pairs of clothes here. You knew there was no way you could convince any of them to let you go home. 

And you definitely could not go out with your friends. But they were blowing up your phone, talking about their plans to go out to some new club with some amazing new party drug. You looked around the room nervously, trying to plan an escape somehow. There had to be a way, you basically had a PhD in sneaking out. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I think it’s time for us to get Mr. Charles to bed!” Your dad teased, making funny faces at your brother, who just laughed in return. It was nice seeing him so full of joy, still loving life. He hadn’t hit the rough years, yet. You missed that feeling, the feeling of not knowing that every day, no matter what, would be miserable. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna head out. Breakfast tomorrow, Dani?” 

“Really,” she sat up, tilting her head in confusion. She was 16, now, and was more miserable than the rest of you. Being sixteen and living this life is utterly exhausting. She looked up to you highly, and you always paid her extra attention. You didn’t want her to end up like you.  

“Of course.” You kissed her on the head and hugged your dad, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone else. You walked through the doors quickly, a reluctant Aaron Hotchner following close behind. 

“I thought you left me alone at night.” 

“Once you’re safe and I’ve secured you in your room, I can pass my duties to another guard. I don’t see you safe in your room.” 

“Okay, dude, I got it,” you rolled your eyes, watching him get closer to you with every step. He was right beside you, now, your arms both at your sides, your hands accidentally bumping together as you walked. The moment his flesh touched yours, you felt your whole body fill with heat, your throat feeling tight as the forbidden flesh touched yours. That was the first time you knew you wanted him, the first time you felt like you could lose yourself in him. He smelled of strong coffee and vanilla, pulling you in like a flower shop in a Spring day. 

You stayed silent the rest of the walk, coming up to your bedroom door. “Honey is secure, send in the first shift.” 

“Honey?” 

“Code name.” He responded sternly.

“What does it mean?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just picked it when I saw your picture.” He seemed caught off guard, as if nobody had asked him that question before. You were pretty sure nobody had a codename like Honey.

You saw the other guard approaching, and Aaron seemed to relax a little as he saw the man. This man was a lot younger, and you didn’t feel nearly as protected with him. Which was probably why he was the night guard, and perfect for your plan. Aaron and the other man spoke secretly for a moment, before he turned and walked away without saying goodnight. You felt a little hurt, but also knew that it was his job to protect you, not to get close with you. 

You went into your room and closed the door behind you, praying to God you had something cute to wear somewhere here. You searched around the closet, pulling garments off of hangers in frustration. Luckily you found an old dress that somehow still fit. You wiggled your way into it and fixed your hair a bit, hoping the low light of the club would cover for your bare face. You threw a robe on top of everything and shoved your heels into each pocket. You realized it was still pretty early, and decided to work on your presentation for your college tours. 

You were pretty proud of your program actually. You had created a program for colleges to help get students to care more about politics, helping them to register to vote, understand laws and policies, amongst a million other things. It ended up being very successful, and your dad even credited you for helping him to win the presidency. Most of your life felt like you were stuck inside the darkest cloud to ever exist- but when you were working on this, doing your presentations for people just like you… it gave you something to live for. It was one of the few reasons you had to keep going, in all honesty. 

And by the time you looked up at the clock, it was already almost 11, and your friends were on their way to the secret exit to pick you up. Yeah, there were plenty of hidden exit spots around the building that weren’t patrolled. You and Matt pretty much discovered that the first day you moved in here. You let your friends know that you’d be out soon, and you got yourself ready to go. You quietly opened the door to see the guard standing silently, turning towards you when he heard the noise. 

“Hey, super sorry, my mom just texted me to come to her room. I’ll be right back!” You smiled confidently, closing the door and trying to start walking before he questioned you. 

“I should probably go with you,” he requested.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. There’s a million of you guys on the way to her room. Plus, what if someone tries to sneak in my room. How will you know?” 

“Oh… alright,” he muttered, awkwardly. “Just don’t take too long.” 

You nodded in agreement and skipped down the hallway, people stopping to look at you momentarily before ultimately deciding they had something more important to do than worry about you. When you got to the back secret staircase, you dropped your robe and slipped your heels. Your friends were waiting for you at the door, greeting you with squeals and hugs. 

“The uber is right outside the gate, let’s go!” One of them said, sprinting to the exit. You all followed quickly, laughing and twirling in the warm summer air. That was weirdly easy. You had never had such an easy time getting out. You slowed down a bit, your friends brushing past you. Something felt off. But right now, you were out, and you could at least enjoy it while it lasts. You shook your negativity off and ran to catch up with them, exiting the gate and running up the street. You stopped at your Uber and slid into the back with two others. When the doors were all closed and the car started moving, your friend in the passenger seat turned around with a handful of small blue pills. 

“Have one!”

“What is it?” 

“It’s a whole lot of fun, that I know for sure.” He raised his eyebrows goofily, giggling as you shrugged and took a pill. You washed it down with a swig of vodka from someone’s flask. You winced at the sharp taste of the alcohol, feeling it burning your throat and descending into your stomach. 

The music on the radio was bumping loudly, each beat of the bass shaking the car. You felt everyone moving around you so quickly, but you were frozen. Your body wouldn’t move. You didn’t feel scared, though. You almost felt that if you couldn’t move, if all you could do was just sit there and listen, no one could possibly hurt you anymore. You were finally safe. 

But then a hand touched yours, and the reality of your pause in time came crashing down. Your whole body jerked, and you snapped back to reality to see your friend trying to drag you from the car and into the club. She hadn’t even noticed your temporary disconnect from reality, or if she did, she didn’t care. She, just like all of you, just wanted to party. The last thing you wanted was to come face to face with your problems. 

The club was dark and smoky, blurring the faces of those around you, everyone just becoming silhouettes of themselves. Someone passed you something to smoke, and you took a drag without hesitation. You got swept up into the crowd, your body moving with theirs like seaweed in a flowing ocean. Your feet were attached to the ground, but your body floated as if the wind was carrying it in her hands. Someone came up behind you, wrapping their hands around your waist and tracing their lips up your neck. Their body moved in sync with yours, the universe holding you together like a moon to it’s orbiting planet. 

“Shots!” A voice nearby called. You instinctively recognized the voice, and trailed off to find the rest of your friends passing around a bottle. You joined excitedly, wrapping your arms around one of them and reaching for the bottle. You took a long swig, not even tasting the overpriced tequila, just letting it pour straight down your throat and into your body. The walls around you turned into stained glass, the sunlight pouring in a shining a beautiful rainbow of light on the crowd around you. You remembered the blue pill you took in the car, and felt happy. He was right, this was a whole lot of fun. 

The music picked up a bit, and you felt each beat pulsing through your body as if it were your own heartbeat. You dragged a person from your group out to the dance floor, needing to move your body. Luckily the rest of the group followed, dancing with you, the blue pills pulling you all into the same universe. You loved moments like this, where you lost yourself, where you couldn’t even remember what real life was like even if you tried. The thought of that scared a lot of people, and you understood why. For many people, their reality was way better than anything a drug could create for them. But for some people, and for you, you needed to disappear into another existence in order to survive. 

You had no idea how long you had been dancing, it felt like only seconds but your body felt like it had been moving for hours. You were still slightly lost in your mind, the drug slowly wearing off and bringing you down to the harsh reality of the come down. You felt a hand grab tightly onto your wrist, and you yelped. You couldn’t see who it was, but they were tugging at you harshly, and you couldn’t resist much longer. Your body was tired and weak, and this man was strong. You finally felt yourself moving through the people and towards the exist, still no sight of who had their hands locked to you. 

If you someone snuck out and died, your dad would be so pissed. You started feeling scared, not enough drugs left in you to block out the reality of the situation. You panicked, trying to pull your hand away and scream. But no one noticed, everyone was lost in their own universes, completely away from reality, where you needed them. That was the downfall of this lifestyle, of course. Sometimes people could lose themselves a little too much. 

You managed to get pulled out the door, the fresh air smacking you harshly right in the face. You felt dizzy, the lights of the city around you spinning wildly. You sat down on the pavement, pulling whoever took you out down with you. You tried to look up at him, but felt queasy when you moved your head. 

“Just take a deep breathe,” a man whispered, placing his hand on your back and rubbing slowly. “Here’s some water.” He handed you an opened bottle, your fingers touching lightly and instantly making you feel better. His touch was almost healing, like he was pulling the pain right out of you. The longer he kept his hand on you, the better you felt. You sipped slowly on the water, the cold liquid flowing through you and cleansing your body. 

“We need to get going,” he instructed, pulling at your arm to get up. 

“Hotchner,” you muttered, finally realizing the mystery man that was stealing you away into the night. 

“It’s Aaron.” 

“I don’t like that. Doesn’t fit. I do like Hotch-” you hiccuped. “Hotch, actually, that’s pretty bad ass.” You giggled loudly, Hotch helping you into the front seat of the car and buckling you in. He went around the front and got into the drivers seat, starting the car with a grunt. 

“How did you find me?” 

“How long do you think Cooper would’ve waited until he realized you weren’t with your mom.”

“That’s not what I asked,” you sat up, taking a deep breath and looking over at the man. “I knew you’d realize I was gone. How did you find me?” 

Hotch moved his lips uncomfortably, his eyes shifting back and forth. 

“Why would you go out when you know how much danger you’re in? You’re an extremely intelligent woman on paper, (Y/N), but you are clearly so incredibly stupid.” 

You gasped in awe, your heart racing and heat flushing to your cheeks. You were blushing like a strawberry, digging your nails into your palms to refrain yourself from screaming at him, or punching him, or just getting out of the car at the next red light. 

“You don’t know anything about me, Aaron. Don’t pretend you know me from reading a few of my daddy’s notes.” You sat back in exhaustion, feeling your eyes fill with tears. You willed yourself to not cry in front of him, to hold it together until you were alone. The last person you wanted to break down in front of was him. 

“We’re stopping somewhere, before we get you home.” His voice was calmer this time, clearly realizing you were upset. He didn’t look at you the rest of the ride, staring ahead at the road, focusing intently on the cars around him. You recognized the street as he started to park, realizing you were at your apartment. 

“What are we doing here?” You muttered in confusion, looking around at the familiar buildings. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

He turned the car off and got out, walking around to you and opening your door. You reluctantly got out, and walked slowly to the front door of your building. You realized quickly you didn’t have your keys, and turned to him. As if he read your mind, he held up your keys in his hand and nodded at you. He walked to the door and typed in the code to unlock it, revealing the lobby of your apartment building. You were on the second floor, and the two of you walked slowly up the stairs to your place. He continued to stay silent as he unlocked your apartment door, opening it hastily as he braced himself to walk into your place. He shuttered uncomfortably as he stepped inside. 

“Can you tell me why we’re here now?” You insisted, shutting the door loudly behind you and locking it. You were still feeling kind of uneasy, and needed to reassurance of a locked door if someone happened to come look for you here. 

“Get your things. Everything you need.” He crossed his arms, a look of authority overcoming him. You realized now that he was dressed down- wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms looked stunning in the cut off sleeves, the nicely displayed muscles in plain view. 

“Why… why do I need my things?” 

“Because, you’ve lost your privileges to privacy. Since you want to act out, you no longer have your own place. Take everything you need and say goodbye, because we’re not coming back here again.” He had raised his voice quite loudly, his arms uncrossed and at his sides. He had gotten closer to you as he spoke, now only a foot or so away from you. 

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I am trying to protect you. Do you not care at all about your own life, or your families? You are being incredibly selfish, you know that. You have an amazing family that loves you, millions of people around the country that adore you. If something happened to you, the world would be devastated, and yet you are so reckless with your life? It’s… I truly don’t get it, (Y/N).”

You stood in awe, unsure of what to say to him. You felt like a thousand pound weight just dropped on your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before, especially not someone who was hired to protect you. You stepped away from him, stumbling over your steps as you rested yourself against the wall. 

“What… what about you?” You muttered, looking up at him. “You want to talk about recklessness with life? You don’t know me, or care about me at all, and you’re here ready and willing to die to protect me. Don’t you think that’s a little fucked up? Or, what is it, Hotch? Do you have a hero complex?” You cocked your head at him, grinning. Your moment of sadness had passed, and now you were pissed. Nobody talked to you that way. And now you wanted to piss him off. 

“No, you’ve got me all wrong sweetheart,” he chuckled, walking closer and closer to you until he was inches away and you were completely backed against the wall. He moved his arms to the base of his shirt and ripped it over his head, revealing an unsurprisingly ripped body. He had multiple scars across his chest and abdomen. 

“I’ve been in and out of foster homes my whole life. Switched schools constantly so I never had many friends. Went right into the Marines after high school and kept to myself for the most part there, too. I have no one, (Y/N). If I die, nobody would blink an eye. If you die, the whole country would shut down. Do you see these?” He pointed to his scars, touching them gently as if taking a moment to remember each one. “I’ve taken bullets for many before, and I’ll do it for you if I have to, Honey. That’s why I do this. I’m not reckless with my life. I have no one, no life outside of this. I can give up that to protect someone like you.” 

His hand was resting on the wall behind your head, his body towering over you. He was breathing heavy, trying to relax himself. 

“That is so…” you took a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his flesh and tracing your fingers over his scars. You gently circled the rough skin, watching him look down in confusion as you touched him. “Incredibly sad.” You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as your hand still pressed against his bare chest. “I’m so sorry nobody has made your life feel worth it. You don’t deserve that,” you whispered, your face only inches from his. You realized now the vanilla scent that rolled so deliciously off of him was his cologne, because it was much stronger as you got closer to the base of his neck. 

“We need to get out of here. Get you home.” He muttered, turning away from you harshly, and looking around to find his shirt. 

“I’m… I didn’t mean to upset you, Hotch.” 

“It’s Aaron,” he barked, his eyes filled with fury as he scrambled around for his missing clothes. 

“Why don’t we just get my things tomorrow? I promise I’ll stay in the rest of the night.” 

“You won’t have the chance to sneak out again, I can promise you that.” He said sternly, putting his shirt on quickly and heading for the door. You followed quietly behind him, your head racing and your body flushing from being so close to him just moments ago. He ushered you into the car quickly and slammed the door behind you. His energy had changed so dramatically from moments ago, but you were still feeling so drawn to him. 

You remembered the way his bare skin felt to your touch. Even one small brush on your fingertips against his flesh made him melt, as if he couldn’t remember the last time somebody had touched him with such pure intentions. 

He was driving quite recklessly back to the big house, not saying a word as you stared silently ahead, replaying the moment over and over in your head. You wanted to say something, trying to come up with the right words to handle this situation. But your brain came up empty, and you continued to stay silent the rest of the drive home. 

Hotch parked the car in the garage, sitting back in his seat for a moment as if he wanted to get something off his chest before going in. “You’re lucky I didn’t tell anyone you’d snuck out. I’ll cover for you this time, but don’t count on it if it happens again.”

“I’m sorry I made you come get me,” you whispered, fully realizing how dumb and selfish your actions were. He was right, you were reckless with your life. But you’d never really cared about it, or even thought about it, until now. 

“That was, um,” he shifted, clearing his throat. “That was unprofessional of me to talk to you that way. I apologize.” 

“No… I… you were right. I kind of needed to hear it. And, again, I’m sorry that you feel the way you do.” You slowly reached your hand out and grabbed onto his, your delicate hand resting gracefully amongst his strong, tired ones. It was almost comical, the difference in the sizes. 

Your fingers intertwined in his, your palms meeting as you sat silently in the car. You looked up at him, his eyes staring deeply at your hand in his. His thumb grazed gently over your skin, his silent way of acknowledging your touch. You knew, in that moment, that your feelings towards each other were the same. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, despite every element working against a relationship. And you both knew that. It could never work, and nothing could ever happen. 

He tore his hand away with haste and looked out the window, refusing to verbally acknowledge the moment you just shared. One of many moments you had shared since you met. 

“You need to get inside before anyone else realizes you’re gone. Cooper is inside the door. I’ll see you in the morning.” He refused to look at you, his body backed up into the door as far away as he could get himself. You nodded silently and opened your door, getting out onto the concrete and beginning to walk to the door. You turned back to look at him, and he was watching you, as always. 

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” he muttered through the cracked window of his car door. 

“Thank you, Hotch.” You smiled at him, and were hoping to catch a grin from him, too. But he didn’t seem like the type of man to smile very often, and this definitely wasn’t the right moment. He continued to watch you until you got in the door, an angry Cooper ready to lecture you as he walked you back to your room. You did your best to ignore his taunts, your mind still on Hotch.

You fell asleep quickly after you got back to your room, your body craving the healing powers of sleep. Your dreams were fluttered with thoughts of him, his touch. You could not even escape him in your solitude, your soul, your subconscious, was so encapsaleted by him. They would not let you forget him, even if your slumber.

You finally woke up around eleven the next morning, confused and dehydrated, your head throbbing. You clearly had a wicked hangover, and were still feeling pretty laggy from the drugs the night before. You crawled slowly out of bed and into your connecting bathroom, sticking your head under the sink and slurping down faucet water like a child on a hot summer day. The cool taste felt refreshing on your throat, but the minute it hit your throat you felt nauseous. You clipped your hair back so it was away from your face, which was still rocking last night's makeup. You finally opened the door of your room to a different man, one you hadn’t recognized. 

Seeing a stranger made you startled, especially standing right outside of your room. You instinctively wanted to call for Hotch, pleading for him to come sweep you off your feet and save you. But, there was nothing to save you from, as this man was just the third shift night guard. He confirmed that when he muttered, “Honey has left her room. Send in A3.” 

You waited for him to greet you, say anything at all, but he stood silent and waited for him commanding guard to relieve of him his duties. You started to walk towards the kitchen, the nausea you were facing earlier now turned to hunger. You were stopped by his arm, blocking you from going any further. 

“You have to wait until he gets here, Miss.” 

“Right, sorry.” He had already turned away, you weren’t even sure if he had heard your apology. You didn’t know how long you’d have to wait until Hotch came and released you from your prison cell, so you scrolled through instagram in annoyance as you waited.

“Good morning, it’s wonderful of you to join the living. Long night last night?” Hotch was smirking at you, a look of contempt as he clearly saw the misery of the previous night sweating right out of you. His mood clearly changed to despising you, again. And if that’s how he wanted to play things this morning, you were happy to play right along with him. 

“Not all of us have no life at all, Aaron. Sometimes people, ya know, do things.” You rolled your eyes as you walked passed him quickly, trying to get down to the kitchen before all the food was gone. 

“Not all of us have death threats hanging over our heads, either,” he snapped back, his voice sharp and stern. “Where are you going, (Y/N)?” 

“Breakfast. I’m hungry,” you shrugged, continuing to walk fast and not get too close to him. Everything felt so hot and cold, you honestly had no idea what he was feeling. The times where you were close, where you felt him, it was so genuine. You knew there was a chemistry between you. But his anger towards you also felt so real. If he was somehow faking, if it was an act or a defense mechanism for his true feelings, he was doing an incredible job. 

“All the food is gone. They won’t be back till lunch in another hour.” His smirk came back, as if he was excited by the idea that you now couldn’t eat. “We could go get food, though. If you’d like. If you can’t wait.” 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea actually. There’s a little diner right near my place that has the best chocolate chip pancakes I have ever had.” Your thoughts were racing, the idea of delicious food filling your brain. You did that, sometimes, just lost yourself in your thoughts or an idea. You caught him smiling, maybe at you, maybe at just a passing thought. But the feeling of him watching you, seeing your beauty, and smiling. It made your heart race.

“Let’s get to the car, we don’t wanna be gone too long. You’ve got a lot to prepare for your trip coming up.” Hotch motioned towards the stairs, and you remembered the current state of your wardrobe and stopped in your tracks. 

“I can’t go looking like this… I mean, this is bad,” you laughed, pointing at your messy hair and smudged mascara. 

“Maybe nobody will recognize you if you look that… well…” he chuckled, raising a brow as he looked you up and down. 

“Well that’s a little rude.” You both laughed together until silence ultimately fell on the room. You felt like there was more to be said, but you weren’t sure what. You stood still, waiting for some instruction on what to do next. Why was it that you could never figure out what to do with yourself in situations like this? 

“I think you look beautiful,” he observed, a slight comical tone to his voice. But the way he looked at you, the way he said it, for a slight moment, it felt real. His words felt real. And you would lose yourself in the chaos of it all if you had to spend every day decoding his words, trying to figure out what is real, what is truly him, and what is a facade. You couldn’t fall for him, you couldn't put yourself through that. But each moment with him drew you in more and more, you almost felt that you would be unable to escape him if things went any further, if the small flirtatious comments and slight forbidden touches when you were alone. 

“Let’s get to the car, go get you something to eat,” he instructed, beginning to walk away. You followed him close behind, not sure why you craved the security of him so much. It was his job, but he really did make you feel safe. You followed him down the garage silently, and hoped into the passenger seat of his SUV. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, trying to program the address into the GPS. He looked up at you for an answer, his eyes wide and childlike, the simple act of asking you for assistance making you melt. 

“Uh, Ruby Street Diner,” you stuttered, watching his hands diligently as he typed in the address. He turned on the radio and started driving, and you stared eagerly out the window as you drove. You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you heard him humming with the music. It was those little things that reminded you he was still human, and that was the last thing he was supposed to do. The more human he became, the more he showed you of himself, the harder it would be for you to walk away. 

The drive was silent, but you didn’t mind it. It didn’t feel awkward. Neither of you had anything to say, and sometimes that’s okay. You watched him out of the corner of his eye, watching his face, the way he studied the world around him. Sometimes it seemed like he saw everything, like he saw you watching him. If he knew, he didn’t care. He would glance over at you ever minute or so, maybe to just check if you’re still safe, still breathing. Maybe because he, too, was wondering how he could walk away from you. 

He parked his car on the street across from the diner, and checked his pockets and gun before turning the car off. He looked around him, checking for anything suspicious and out of the ordinary. He clearly didn’t see anything to worry him much, because he opened the door quickly after and got out of the car. He walked to your side and opened your door, checking for oncoming cars as he did so. You were used to people opening doors for you, but something about him holding it open and grabbing your hand as you stepped out of the large truck was hot. 

You walked into the diner and were quickly seated at a small booth in the corner, per his request. It was never a good idea to be in the center of the scene, he said. You nodded in understanding, looking around at the crowd, which wasn’t anything to be worried about. The scene at a diner at noon on a Thursday was never very eventful. 

“Thanks for taking me out,” you whispered, your eyes lazily scrolling over the menu even though you already had your heart set on those chocolate chip pancakes. 

“It’s my number one duty to make sure you are safe and satisfied.” 

“Satisfied? I don’t feel like that’s really a part of your job description.”

“Of course it is. If you’re unhappy, angry, sad- you’re more likely to rebel, lash out, sneak out.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of the hot coffee the waitress just poured for you both. You ordered your food, and Hotch ordered some wheat toast and a fruit bowl. You rolled your eyes at his order, knowing you were about to stuff your face. 

“So, are you saying the only reason I go to party is because I’m unhappy?”

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about your life. It’s just, in my experience, people turn to that life if they aren’t satisfied with their normal existence.” 

“Is anybody happy with their normal existence?” You questioned, sighing loudly as you sat back in the booth. He watched you for a moment, his eyes paying special attention to your rising chest as you started breathing heavily. He set his arm down on the table, laying his palm out as he looked up at you. 

You stared at his exposed hand, a sudden remembering of your fingers intertwined in his car last night. He needed your touch, then. He needed a pull back to humanity, a remembrance that nobody is truly alone in this life. And now, you needed it. You needed somebody to hold your hand. And he knew. 

You reluctantly placed your arm down on the table, looking around at the people in the place. No one was even paying the slightest attention to you. A rare moment where nobody cared who you were, or what you were doing. Your fingers moved towards his, and you grabbed on to him slowly. It was a slight touch, nothing that would be noticeable to anybody passing by. But it was enough for both of you. It was enough to mean something. 

“I would like to think that everybody has a chance to be happy. It’s just a matter of finding your happiness.” His fingers moved closer to yours, his thumb slightly rubbing your fingers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, his illicit touch sending sparks through your whole body. 

“Alright, you guys ready to eat?” Your waitress cheerily interrupted, causing you to both instinctively rip your hands away and put them at your sides. It didn’t appear that she noticed anything but your heart was still racing and you could tell his was, too. 

You ate your food quickly, avoiding eye contact with him as he nibbled on pieces of toast. You only seemed to have two types of moments with him; ones where neither of you could think of any words, or ones where words flowed out of you like a poet. You felt like you could tell him anything, but at the same time you were afraid to say anything. 

“I think we should go,” he quietly muttered after you had finally finished a majority of your food.

“Um.. is everything okay?” 

“This… this is really bad, Honey. What is happening now. It cannot be happening. I apologize for any inappropriate actions I’ve made since we’ve met. I would offer to step down and let someone else take this roll but I spent weeks training on how to protect you, and I don’t think you’d be safe with anyone else. I hope that’s okay with you.” 

You stared at him in awe, a sick feeling overcoming your stomach. You shook your head for a moment, trying to think of the right words to respond with. He was right, this was stupid, and an extremely self destructive act. Besides, nothing had even really happened, and it was probably way better to shut things down now before it went any further. So much of you didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to not know what a life with him could be like. But you thought about your family, your life, and knew it wasn’t smart, or safe.

“You’re right, um, yeah. That's okay. I think it’s smart to keep you on, especially with the trip coming up.” 

He nodded in agreeal, pushing his food away in disgust. You wondered if he felt just as sick as you did, just as heartbroken and miserable as you were. You knew one thing, for sure. That he was just as lonely and disappointed in life as you were. He was living in the same boat you were, and maybe that’s why you connected so easily. Sharing a common pain, it was easy to feel drawn to him. But you had to draw the line, as terrible as it was. 

“Let’s go back home.”

The next few weeks went by uneventfully. There was nothing new to report on Hotch, or Aaron, as he now insisted you called him. There were no passing glances, no secret touches. You had both controlled yourself, and it was much easier than you thought. You were starting to wonder if the attraction was all circumstance, and there was nothing of real sustenance to your ‘relationship’. His touch still existed in your dreams, though. That was one place where you couldn’t control your thoughts. Every morning when you woke up, the thought of you in his dreams made you wonder. 

Today was the day you finally left your trip, and you were flying out to San Francisco now. You sat eagerly in the airport, a crowd of men surrounding you, Aaron sitting at your side. He would accompany you in first class, and the rest of your night guards would scatter around coach to keep an eye on anyone suspicious. You had your headphones in, trying to distract yourself from the upcoming flight. You were quite a nervous flyer, and you were feeling exceptionally overwhelmed today. You couldn’t wait to get seated and have a drink, something to calm your nerves. 

You were leaving pretty late, and would arrive pretty late as well. When you got in, you were all going straight to the hotel and preparing for your first presentation tomorrow. You boarded quickly, being one of the first allowed to get on the plane. Aaron held on to your carry on bags, and his, and followed you into the cabin. The rest of your guards stayed behind until it was their turn to board. Luckily, nobody had seemed to notice or recognize you on the flight, yet. You were hoping it would stay that way, as you were utterly exhausted and weren’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger today.

“You all buckled in?” Aaron asked as he placed your bags in the overhead storage bin. 

“Yep, all safe and secure officer,” you giggled, leaning your head back in the large seat.

“Sounds good,” he smiled, taking his seat next to you and buckling himself in. You sat and scrolled through your phone mindlessly as the rest of the plane boarded, watching your night guards pass you by and give Aaron a slight thumbs up when they passed each other. You faked your way through listening to the emergency instructions, pleasing Aaron as he urged you to pay attention. The plane finally started moving and you settled into your seat, your nails digging into your palms as you prepared for the ascent.

Going up was always terrifying, but what you weren’t expecting was the turbulence as you headed into the sky. There was a storm coming in, and the pilot mentioned it might be bumpy until you get high enough. The shakiness was torture, but an unexpected drop in altitude made you jump and latch onto Hotch’s hand in instinct. Your fingers were locked with his, squeezing tight as the plane leveled out and you caught your breath. 

“Sorry about that, folks,” the pilot spoke over the intercom, his voice light and cheery as if nothing just happened. “Should be clearing out of this storm in a minute or so. Keep buckled.” 

You looked over to him, your hand still clutched in his, your heart finally coming to a normal rhythm. He was staring down at your hands, the remembrance of your touch sending him somewhere he was desperately avoiding. 

“I’m… it was an accident, Aaron. I’m sorry,” you mumbled, trying to pull your hand from his, but his grip was locked around you. 

“Nervous flyer?” He joked.

“Yes. I hate it.” 

“I fly all the time,” he assured, your hand still in his. “You know you’re more likely to die in a car than a plane?” 

“I’m not so much nervous about dying as I am getting stranded on an island like Lost.” 

“Weren’t they all dead in the end, anyways?” 

“I never got that far, but that still doesn’t sound ideal. The whole point of death is to not have to deal with life anymore.” 

Your hands were still linked together, his thumb now tracing circles on the back of your hand. His leg moved closer to you until you were touching, the closest you two could possibly get while sitting in a plane. It was in that moment that you realized whatever you had been trying to avoid with him was no longer unavoidable. You had reached a new level of intimacy, a door was opened that could not be closed. 

“Aaron…” 

“I don’t like that. I like Hotch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling as they met the dim overhead lights of the plane. 

“Hotch… are you sure you want to keep touching me?” 

His eyes widened at your voice, and he instinctively ripped away his hand and pulled his leg from you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather a thought. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, trying to change the subject. 

“I can’t, I’m working.” He turned forward and looked at the stared at the screen on the back of the seat. You decided not to say anymore, clearly realizing the moment had passed and there was nothing left to be said. 

A flight attendant came by shortly after and you finally got your well deserved drink. Hotch stayed silent, watching you sip the forbidden liquid and get slightly more calm with every sip. You had two more before finally falling asleep, the exhaustion of anxiety taking over. You woke up when you felt your ears pop as the plane began descending. You bolted up with alarm, Hotch watching you quietly. You couldn’t remember if he looked over at you after you woke up, or if he had been watching while you slept. 

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Can I have some gum?” You motioned to your ears, cringing in pain. Hotch handed you a stick of mint gum from his bag, which you chewed happily as you watched your descent into the night. The lights from the city were beautiful, and you felt extremely happy to be back doing what you love, in one of your favorite cities. You had always wanted to move here, but your father would’ve had a heart attack if you weren’t within 20 minutes of him. 

The plane landed on the ground with a jolt, shaking you awake. You looked to Hotch, who was already turning his phone on to inform your family that you had landed safely. He spoke swiftly to your dad, assuring him that he would let him know when we arrived at the hotel. You watched his every move, the way his lips moved with such assurity at every word he spoke. He knew you, everything about you, truly. He was the one person in the world that was 100% dedicated to you. He would die for you. Holy shit. Maybe you had a bit too much to drink. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah, let’s.” You stood up quickly, without paying attention, and slammed your head right on the overhead. “Shit,” you groaned, holding on to your forehead in pain. 

“Oh man,” Hotch mumbled, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. He reached his hand to your forehead and ran his thumb over the bump. He moved his hand down to your cheek, and looked down into your eyes. 

“It’s a little red, but I think you’ll be okay,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. 

“That’s good,” you mumbled, the tip of your nose brushing against his. You had placed your hand to his chest, playing with the buttons on the hem of his shirt. 

He pulled away from you suddenly, shaking his head and taking a breath. He opened up the overhead and pulled out the bags, not looking at you once again. You felt your legs shaking, your heart beating, and your center throbbing at the thought of his lips. It took all of your strength to not pull him back to you and kiss him. But you couldn’t, not here, anyway. 

You followed Hotch off the plane and stood at the gate for the rest of your men. Hotch didn’t say a word to you, only waited in authority for his men to meet him. He was their leader, they did everything he said. Watching him boss them around was kind of sexy, and you felt your body aching more and more for him. Finally the rest of your team came out and met up with you. 

“I want you guys to wait for Honey’s bags then meet us back at the hotel. There will be cars waiting. I want her out of here as fast as possible, so we’re leaving now. Are we clear?” He nodded at them in clarification, and they all nodded back in agreement. They began walking towards baggage claim, and you followed Hotch the opposite direction. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Secret exit, there’s a car waiting for us there.” He walked steadily at your side, weaving through crowds and shielding you from oncoming people. A few people glanced to your direction with curiosity, most likely thinking “I know that girl from somewhere.” But Hotch rushed you out too quickly for anyone to fully remember you. You passed behind a guarded door, Hotch flashing his badge to the guards as they nodded at him and opened doors. You were rushed down a flight of stairs and out a back door, into the California night air. And as Hotch said, a black SUV with a driver you didn’t recognize was waiting for you. 

“Who’s that?” 

“One of my old men,Derek, a good friend. It’s not safe for me to be driving here. We're in good hands with him, though.” 

Derek rolled down the window and greeted Hotch, a large smile of the man's face. “Nice to meet you, Miss. (Y/N). Welcome to my ride,” he laughed. Hotch opened the door for you and you stepped in the back, him following close behind. Derek started the car and began driving, flashing Hotch’s badge as you went through various gates to get back on the road. The partition was up in the car, blocking Derek’s eyes and ears from you and Hotch. You weren’t sure why he had it up, as most of your drivers usually leave it down until asked. Maybe he just assumed you would be having a confidential conversation or something, right? 

“Thanks for getting me out safe, Hotch,” you teased, placing your hand playfully on his shoulder. 

“Of course, Honey.” He turned towards you, his head tilted as he looked down to you. He rested his hand on your thigh, his thumb teasing your exposed flesh. You shivered at his touch, his hands cold against the warmth of your inner thigh. His fingers continued to trail up your flesh, toying with you as they moved slowly to where you craved him most. You moved your hips awkwardly, trying to get closer to him, trying to get him closer to you. 

He started to play with the hem of your underwear, his thumb grabbing onto the fabric and brushing against your flesh. His other fingers slowly began to touch you, moving rhythmically over your clit. You sighed in relief, finally getting the much needed pleasure. You wanted more, you would’ve straddled him right then and there. But he quickly took his hand away, leaving you defeated and unsatisfied. You turned to him with a frown, only to find a smug grin plastered on his face. 

“Later, Honey.” He whispered, his eyes locked on yours. You nodded, excitement overtaking you as you thought of what could happen next. You turned back forward and straightened yourself out, trying to catch your breath. 

The rest of the drive was torture, craving someone so close. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself together. Right as you were starting to convince yourself to just kiss him, you finally pulled up to the hotel. Derek parked in the entrance and got out of the car to open your door. He opened Hotch’s side, first, and shook his hand as he exited the car. You got out after him, declining for him to walk around and open your door, as well. Hotch had already grabbed the few bags you did have and was holding on to them tightly. You thanked Derek for driving you and assured him you would see him tomorrow. Hotch and him said their goodbyes, and then you followed him into the lobby of the hotel. You stayed behind as he checked you in, not trying to look too conspicuous. 

Hotch walked back over to you and flashed the room keys. “Let’s get to your room, get you settled.” 

You followed him to the elevator, which was an awkwardly silent ride. You rode up to the top floor, where the Presidential suite was, no doubt. Your father always insisted you had the nicest room in the place. It was a bit much, in your opinion, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him about things like that. The elevator finally came to a halt and opened its doors. Hotch left first and you followed him down the hall to one of the suites. 

“Alright, here you go,” he said, handing you your key and dropping your bags to the floor. 

“Uh, are you leaving me?” You questioned, your eyes wide with confusion. 

“Relax,” he chuckled. “I’m right across the hall. I’m just gonna change, I always feel so gross after a plane. Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll check on you in a few minutes?” 

“Alright,” you grumbled, disappointed that your night with Aaron was clearly ending here. 

You opened the door to your room and brought your bags in, Hotch waiting for your door to close until he went into his own room. You laid down with a huff on the bed, sulking into the covers in frustration. What a fucking tease, you thought. You shook your head in anger and jumped off the bed, willing yourself to relax a bit before tomorrow. 

You changed out of your clothes, stripping completely naked and throwing on your silk robe before you got in the shower. You started unpacking your toiletries, placing your obnoxiously expensive hair and skin care in the shower, ready for you to use at your convenience. You searched in frustration for your toothbrush, tossing things around your bags as you looked. You felt like you’d been searching for a half hour when a knock on the door through you from your search. 

You stood up uncomfortably, realizing you were almost naked. You looked around for clean clothes, but were worried if you didn’t answer the door immediately one of those big-head guards would knock the door down. You groaned loudly and ran to the door, hoping to god you weren’t too exposed. 

Hotch was standing in the doorway, a filthy grin on his face as you opened the door. You backed away from the door and he walked in, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked up to you, his body inches away from yours. He grabbed on to the sash of your robe, pulling at the end so that the loose knot would come undone. The front of the robe spilled open, exposing your nude front. Hotch brought his hands to your shoulders and grabbed onto the robe, pulling it completely off your body. 

He brought his hand up to your chest, slowly caressing your breast and toying with your nipple. He ripped his shirt over his head aggressively, and then wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled your face close to his and kissed you, a much needed kiss full of desperation. His tongue invaded your mouth forcefully, his body taking complete and total control of yours. His lips tasted like scotch, which he clearly drank pretty quickly in his room before coming over. Maybe he needed the courage, or maybe he needed to take the edge off. Either way, the taste made you crave a drink. 

You started to push away from the kiss, planning to run to the mini bar and grab a bunch of bottles for the two of you. Hotch just chuckled, grabbed onto your wrist and pushed you on the bed. 

“Hotch, I want a drink,” you giggled, trying to evade his grip. 

“Not now, Honey. Now you want me,” he ordered, biting his lip as he looked down at you. 

“Yes, sir,” you teased, blowing Hotch a kiss. He moved down lower and spread your legs, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes. He spit aggressively on your pussy, and then dragged his tongue across your entirety. He was lapping at your clit sloppily, your body jerking with pleasure as he shoved two fingers inside of you. He started to focus more with the tip of tongue, his fingers moving in perfect rhythm, arching as they went inside to hit your spot. 

“Fuck,” you squealed, arching your back as your body was overcome with pleasure. 

“Are you gonna cum, sweetheart? Are you gonna cum for me?” He growled, pouting his lips as he looked up at you. 

“Yes, keep doing that,” you stuttered. A satisfied smile came over his face, and he went back to eating you out. He focused on your clit, his tongue stimulating it in ways you’d never experienced before. Your body was almost shaking as you finally reached your climax, Hotch licking you up as you finished. You went limp, for a moment, trying to catch your breath from your high. 

“Turn around,” he instructed, slapping your thigh. 

“I need a sec,” you muttered.

“Now. Turn around, now.” His glare was intimidating, but you could still see a gleam of light in his eyes. The dominance was something you hadn’t experienced yet, but it was turning you on wildly. You nodded at him, getting on your knees and bending over. He slapped your ass with a force, making you yelp with an equal mix of pleasure and pain. You could hear him chuckle behind your back, already feeling your skin raising where he marked you. 

You heard him unbuckling his pants, and you’d realized you hadn’t seen his dick yet. You wanted to be surprised, though. You wanted to experience him for the first time inside of you. You felt him placing himself at your entrance, the tip of his dick playing with you. He started to slowly slide in, and you were uncomfortably shocked by his size and girth. You winced as he fit all of himself inside of you, feeling his length overtaking your whole body. He was by far the biggest you’d ever experienced, and you were taking a second to adjust. 

“Oh, poor Honey,” he chuckled. “Am I too much for you?” 

“No, I can handle it,” you replied in defiance. “Fuck me, Aaron. Fuck me.” 

He laughed again, taking your instruction to heart and pounding himself in and out of you, fast. It was too much at first, feeling like he was breaking you. He was so much bigger than you, he could literally overcome you. You felt his presence watching your ass as he fucked you, realizing now how hot it was that he was so big. 

“You have such a tight little pussy, I fucking love it,” he moaned, his nails digging into the flesh on your hips. His pumps were getting sloppier, each thrust you could feel his body getting more tense. He was twitching inside of you, and finally you felt his warm release fill you up. He stayed inside you a moment, both of you catching your breath. He pulled himself out and sat on the edge of the bed. You turned around and laid flat, staring breathlessly at the ceiling. 

You heard the sound of a phone, and you winced as the comfort of the silence was broken. Hotch stood up, his naked body glowing like a statue in the low light. You took in his body, examined it like a piece of art, remembered every bit. You never wanted to forget him. You didnt think you could. 

Hotch grabbed his phone and answered quickly. “What’s going on?... Alright…. Sounds good.” He ended the call and set the phone done on the desk. 

“Get dressed, make the bed,” he requested, rather harshly.

“Ugh, cmon Hotch, can I just have a second?” You groaned, flopping to your side in exhaustion. 

“Do I need to ask again? Get up, put your clothes on and make the bed. Now!” He barked. He was already searching the ground for his clothes, trying to put himself back together after unraveling with you. You got up and did as you were told, putting your robe back on and searching for pants. You made the bed to the best of the ability, although it wasn't really your strong suit. You shrugged, apologetic as Hotch gave you a disappointed look when he looked at your work. 

A knock on the door prevented Hotch from lecturing you on your cleaning skills. He ran to the door and opened it to reveal the rest of your guards. They dropped your bags off in the entryway and shared a few words with Hotch. He turned to you and started to talk. 

“First shift will start now. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Of course.” 

Hotch grabbed his phone and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. He waited a few seconds before the person on the other end answered. 

“It’s me. Honey is secure. I’ll check in in the morning.”

[oftenderweapons]

i’m so obsessed with ur writing!! could u do more yoongi x kitten cus i love them sm

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 2.5k words

Genre: fluff, smut

Rating: 18+

Hello there!

I'm really working on something with those two! Currently I'm finishing Jk and Candy's piece for Love Talk but after that we're starting again with the new prompt!

For now I can tell you that I have incredibly steamy plans for them even though I expected things to go a bit differently... Let's just say that the polls for the next prompt are still open and they keep surprising me everyday 👀

However, I was really happy to find your ask so I think I could give you a teensy tiny drabble 😉 It picks up from the little extra at the end of Chocolate for Dinner and it's just a drabble, of maybe 2.5k words. Obviously smutty. There is some swearing.

Here is my updated masterlist!

——————————————— "You okay like this, Kitten?" Yoongi asked, checking in on you. "Are you cold, love?"

"It's good, just put it in, Yoongi." You reassured him, pushing your ass back, towards him, trying to brush your crotch against something hard that could give you a bit of pressure.

He groaned and you whined in reply, desperate. "You sound so good, Kitten." with one hand he freed his cock, gripping it and swiping his thumb gently against the tip, his other hand reaching the back of your neck, pressing there. "I can't touch your tits like this, love, are you good with that? Wanna move?"

You whined, using your forearm to prop your upper body up and away from the table just by a few inches, leaving enough space so his arm could eventually  slither up from your waist to your chest. With your other hand you found his thigh, then his wrist and finally the fingers wrapped around his gorgeous, slippery length. You pulled him toward you. "Inside." You whimpered.

Yoongi lost it, pressing his tip to your slit and slowly sinking in. "Fuuuuuuuck, you're so soft and warm and tight. You're gonna kill me like this, Kitten."

Once you reckoned he didn't need his hand for himself anymore, you gripped it, lacing your fingers together and dragging it at your side, below you, at your breast. "Squeeze them, Yoongi."

He groaned. "Kitten, you're so nasty."

"Yeah, I know, just squeeze them." You replied.

He laughed, shocked by your reply. He snapped his hips forward, immediately picking a hard and fast pace. He bent down, indulging in your sensitive ears. "Like this?" He asked before slipping almost all the way out and then back inside aggressively as he pinched your nipple.

"Yoongi, yes!" You exclaimed, his harshness absolutely arousing.

"Not gonna last much." He said, setting his pace in earnest. "You know your safe word, uh?" He reminded you, pausing for a second, until you replied.

"Yes. Yellow to slow down, red to stop."

"Nice." His hips started moving with a tough, quick rhythm, making your tits bounce against the table, both the hand at your nape and at your chest gripping you hard as he used the leverage to push you onto him, as if you were little more than a fuck doll. "Come on, don't be shy, lemme hear you."

Your eyes rolled shut as you let your heavy breathing echo in the room. "I love you." You whispered shyly. "I want to live with your hands on my tits. I love your hands."

Yoongi bent down to listen to your broken rambling. "You do?" His tight grip moved to the supple flesh of your breast his thumb drawing circles on your nipple while his palm and fingers cupped the underside gently but effectively. He always knew how hard and how soft he needed to touch you. You had never had someone as dedicated and attentive as him. "Is this right, Kitten? Does it feel nice?"

"It feels so good." You replied, moaning out the "o". Your inner walls started quivering your hand slowly heading to your clit.

"Love. I'm–" His hand moved. Not the one at your breast, the one at your nape. It slipped forward, toward your throat. "Can I?"

You mewled in delight, nodding. "Please."

You couldn't see him, but Yoongi grinned, slowing down his thrusts as he carefully located your carotid arteries with his digits.

When he found them at the side of your throat, he pressed down gently first, the weight of your head helping him reduce your blood flow enough for you to get dizzy. This, mixed with your standing position, had a rush of adrenaline coursing through you, your whole body focused on what was happening at your pelvis.

He spoke with a grovelling voice. "Kitten, whose is it?"

"Yours." You replied meekly, your head spinning at the extra effort of talking.

"Nope, Kitten. Whose is this?" He said, pushing harder inside you... Oh.

"It's mine." You whispered, your voice sparking up with a whine as he rewarded you, hitting the perfect spot.

"That's right. I'm all yours, Kitten." He was close and you could tell. "I'm fucking yours."

You tightened around him. "Cumming." You whined, your shoulder giving up a little underneath you, making your chest fall on top of the table, trapping his hand, your forehead hitting the hard wood with a thud.

Yoongi took a few more thrusts, getting sloppier, losing his rhythm. "That's it." His fingers lost their grip at your neck, your enhanced blood flow making your head fuzzy. Deciding not to stop, you kept moving your fingers, the feeling too good to let go.

"Kitten, are you...? Fuck!" Yoongi came apart as your second climax began growing. His release made him hammer into you for two or three times, just enough to hit your sweet spot and send you into a mind-blowing high. The sense of fullness enhanced the contractions of your inner muscles that simply found their own pattern of pushing and pulling. "Kitten, love, you're the absolute best." He groaned, finally bending down to kiss your cheek.

The side of your face had completely adhered to the cold surface of the table and you were a little upset that as soon as you opened your eyes, you saw the dirty dishes and the leftovers from your meal.

You had almost forgotten you had both interrupted your dinner to fuck, turned on by someone else's moans, so needy that you couldn't even reach the bedroom.

"Are you with me, ____?" He asked. "Are you all good?"

You nodded. "I'm alive."

Yoongi smiled. "Just alive?"

"Consider it a miracle I haven't died of exceedingly good sex yet." You quipped.

He shook his head, nuzzling into your nape. "Maybe I haven't fucked you good enough yet." He kissed your temple as his fingers, once limp at your breast, grabbed your flesh again. "I think I should keep trying."

You laughed. "It would be one hell of a way to go."

The vibrations from your laugh caused a strange sensation on his sex, which made him curious. "Yup. Do you wanna finish your dinner?"

"Mhh." You reflected. "Maybe we could just let it be and get in bed."

He moaned in relief. "I love you."

"Love you too." You basked in bliss for a few more seconds. "Now roll off me, I have to put the food away and clean up the table."

"Just come to bed." He tried to convince you.

"Go, it'll take a minute." You reassured him.

"I wish we could teleport to bed." He murmured. Again that lovely sensation from your laugh. He knew he would fall for it. He knew he would spend the rest of your night trying to make you laugh with his cock inside you.

But that was for later. Standing up, he pulled out of you, not without you whining in protest, just a little. He snickered and covered himself quickly, donning his zipper and button but leaving his belt undone. Before helping you up, he fixed your panties back in place. "I'd love to see you dripping, but we need to fix the kitchen." He commented, using the arm at your chest to help you up. You felt his release ooze out of you, your brain kindly reminding you there was around a 90% probability that he would lick it clean later. Shaking your head at yourself, you smiled turning your head so he would kiss your lips.

He obeyed gently. "Let me help you with the dishes."

[escapcd]

( sebastian stan. 38. cis male. he/him. )  the story of SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARVES now lives in the soul of HUNTER HART , aged THIRTY-FIVE years. they’re a LOCAL, having been in woodvale for SEVENTEEN YEARS in the SOUTH as a SECURITY DETAIL. and yeah, they definitely have the vibes of THE HUNTSMAN with the powers of TIME REVERSAL, don’t you think?  @folkloremsintro​

ABOUT HUNTER 

abandonment tw, death tw

hunter didn’t grow up dreaming about killing people for a living. he wanted to be indiana jones, traveling the world, discovering artifacts, and ultimately saving the day.

his dad left when hunter was eight, leaving him and his mom to figure it out on their own. because of that, hunter developed a sense of duty to provide and make sure they had what they needed to survive. he did gig work until he was old enough to work two jobs during high school and helped his mom out with anything and everything

didn’t have many friends growing up bc he self-isolated

when he was 18, he heard his father was in woodvale, and hunter knew he needed to track him down. during his visit, he discovered that his father had died just a month after he’d left him and his mother. hunter didn’t know what to make of the information and has pushed it away ever since

when he tried to leave, hunter was just relocated to the other side of woodvale, and when he realized he was stuck there, he was absolutely devastated to be separated from his mom (possibly forever). she’d already lost his father, now to lose him? 

when he came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t gonna be getting out of woodvale anytime soon, hunter found a place in the west, sharing a trailer with the world’s worst roommate

without any degrees or diplomas, hunter had to hustle to make a living (nothing new to him). he tried to do things the honorable way at first, but then he got caught up with a bad crew and ended up doing unsavory things for money (mainly being a hitman for hire). there was a part of him that thought maybe somehow he could buy himself out of woodvale, but as years went by, that light at the end of the tunnel grew dimmer

one day, hunter decided he’d had enough of the hitman life and took on a job as security detail for a company. he thought he’d freed himself of his reputation until his boss ordered him to kill her step-daughter, snow. when the moment came, he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t bring himself to kill her - she would forever be his one missed hit

hunter’s recently bought himself a quaint cottage in the south, away from anyone who might associate with his work. it has a cabin feel to it with log laden walls and a big stone fireplace. he also has a dog named dagger (dag, for short) who he values more than almost anyone.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

first roommate in woodvale: it would’ve been seventeen years ago in the west of woodvale. hunter hated living with this person for one reason or another - could be they were just annoying af or maybe they were too similar, def open to whatever!!

past employers: ppl who’ve hired hunter for his services in the past (aka to kill ppl or give em a scare) and maybe want to hire him again

ex: a relationship he had near the beginning of his years in woodvale. things were going well until he started doing his current work and we can def plot this out more depending on things!!

drinking bud: someone who doesn’t ask hunter too many questions and enjoys a good drink

“co-workers”: people he’s teamed up with for jobs in the past/present

dog park friend: someone he sees whenever he takes dagger out who has no idea who he is

so many more!!!! im v open to plotting specifically relating to ur character etc etc!!!!

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 6

pairings: kim seokjin x reader ; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

series rating: R(18+) | genre: angst, forbidden love

warnings: none to note really 

word count: 4.8k

g/n: I MADE A NEW BANNER slkdfslfs; also here’s some tiny history to Yeongkwan and Misun and if you get how they’re all connected.... MUAHAHAHAHAHA *continues laughing evilly in the corner as I rub my hands together* HEH yalls better get ur close reading glasses on skfksldfl 

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 6

Once, there was a timid, young boy who was often misunderstood as misanthropic because of his reserved character. He preferred playing on his own than with the other children, he found amusement in what children of his age would usually find mundane. It wasn’t the other children’s fault either that their company wasn’t enjoyable for him.

Even at a young age, the little boy seemed to find happiness in the little things. He often spent his time alone in deep thought, wondering how things came to be as they currently were. The small boy was curious about the things that didn’t even seem to matter due to the laws of naturality.

He loved looking up in the sky, even if it hurt his eyes; he liked the breeze, the way the dawn’s crisp air hits his face; he enjoyed hiding between tall stalks of corn and rice, watching little bugs move up and down the stems. He was entertained with the way the flowers bloomed, and took pleasure in watching the fish in the rivers swim away when he dipped a finger in.

He was simply observant. Different, as it may have seemed to others, but he would not have it any other way.

On a particularly windy day, he decided that it was the best time to bring out the kite he had long wished for. His father had made it specially just for his birthday, and the little boy was beyond elated to have received such a gift. He always took it with him when they went to the farm where his parents worked and among the lush, green grass, he would spend most of his day playing and watching and observing.

The young boy, having held a kite for the first time in his life, fumbled with the diamond-shaped paper toy, unraveling the thread that had been haphazardly spun around the kite in his haste that morning. As he feels the soft breeze slowly fading, he hurries with his toy, successfully getting the kite to fly higher than he had usually seen with the other kids.

A particularly strong gust of wind caught him off guard, and the poor boy struggled to follow the direction of the wind as he kept an eye of the thread. Preoccupied with figuring out how to save his kite, he failed to take notice of a small mound of soil by his feet. The little boy eventually tripped and fell backward, knocking down someone else with him as he fell.

The boy’s eyes widened in panic. Abruptly, he got on his knees, head bowed down as he apologized profusely. He instantly hears the stern reminders of his parents in his head, telling him to always take precaution wherever he went for the land he was playing on was not their own, and they were mere farmers stepping on the grounds of their generous master.

Eyes closed in anticipation of an imminent punishment, the boy slightly trembled in his knelt position, fists balled to anticipate the pain that was to come. Nothing happened though, save the sound of the dewy grass getting squished under the weight of something.

The young boy pried one eye open, surprised to see a girl’s shoes peeking from a mud-spoilt silk dress in front of him. All the more anxious after realizing that he had accidentally toppled a girl over, the boy bows further to the ground, face only mere inches away from the soil.

He felt the girl step closer as she dusted off her clothes. The stranger asked if he was okay. Unable to hold his reaction in, the boy looked up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. He was the one who had knocked her over, and yet she was the one asking if he was okay. Who was she? Why was she concerned with his well-being? Wary, the boy remained silent, staring at the girl. She held a hand out to help him get up, but as the boy figured his palms were probably covered in dirt, he ignored the girl’s extended arm and got up on his own.

Shrugging, she retracted her hand back to her side. As they finally got to eye level, the pair stared at each other as they studied each other’s features. The girl tilted her head to the right in curiosity with the boy following the same action. Amused, the continues moving after that watching as the stranger in front of her mirrored her actions. “What’s your name?” the girl asked, subconsciously tipping her head to the side. The boy purses his lips in thought first, then answers her question, “My name is Jeon Yeongkwan. And yours?” 

The girl’s face lights up and Yeongkwan finds himself reciprocating the warm action. “Hello Jeon Yeongkwan. I’m Min Misun. It’s nice to meet you.”

The sudden giggle that escapes his wife’s lips pulls him out of his treacherous reverie. Sighing quietly, he watches his wife listen intently to the king animatedly telling the story of his life. If he just wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to drown out the thoughts that have ultimately betrayed him, he would have listened as well, as this was the first time he had seen the king talk with this much enthusiasm.

The children, even at their very young ages, had practically inhaled all their food, taking more than enough servings from the generous amount of food which had been prepared just for the five of them. Yeongkwan, on the contrary, had completely lost interest in the food, picking at the small cube of beef on his bowl. With nothing else left to distract him as the king had brought toys for the kids to play with at the other side of the room, the poor husband was forced to listen to the conversation on the table – almost feeling as if it was he who was disturbing the two.

As he watches the king’s eyes twinkle with delight as he talks to Misun, Yeongkwan’s own lower with sadness. The fine china in front of him suddenly piques his interest and as he studies the intricate patterns inside the ceramic bowl, he is once again reminded of the kind of life Misun was born into – the life she deserved.

Min Misun was a woman born into nobility, and Yeongkwan had gone through a lot of beating because of their relationship. Of course, a son of a mere farmer and the daughter of a man who owned lands in several cities? Nobody would have even dared imagined.

Yeongkwan’s family had served the Mins for as long as he could remember, but he could vividly recall the day he had met her just like it was yesterday. Yeongkwan couldn’t stop looking at them – how perfect they look together: the spitting image of a royal couple. He tries hard to not let the bitterness swallow him whole, but he has experienced this his whole life, and a man could only take one so many punches.

He imagines how difficult it must have been for his wife to leave her precious life like that, when comfort was not a luxury but something already ingrained in their lives. He imagines what life would have been if he hadn’t met Misun at all, if she had only chosen the man she was truly betrothed to. As for Yeongkwan, well, life for him would have been the same all along – working in the fields from dusk to dawn.

But Misun, his lovely Misun… she wouldn’t even have to cook, hadn’t she had been so stubborn. Even his own parents had not favored his friendship with the landowner’s daughter, saying it was too much of a risk for the whole family. But alas, the matters of the heart are exclusively a person’s own, and despite being burdened by the consequences of his or her actions while doing so, nothing ever matters as long as the heart’s desires are fulfilled. 

Throughout the years, the unusual friendship of the two had eventually blossomed into a romantic relationship. It was Yeongkwan who had fallen first - he figured that out when seeing Misun was the only thing he looked forward to for the day. In fact, she was the first thing on his mind when he woke, and was his last thought before he went to sleep. 

Daily, they would meet in a more secluded area of the plantation, where they would talk for hours. On some days, Misun would offer a hand in farming. Yeongkwan declined at first, knowing a plantation was not the place she ought to spend her days in. But Yeongkwan, powerless to stop the person he loved from doing something she wanted to do, indulged her so. 

They’d spend their days like that, talking to each other while Misun occasionally helped with the farming. One day, she came to their rendezvous a little later than expected and when Yeongkwan showed her a small plot where she could plant her own rice but she instantly shook her head no, narrating how she was scolded for coming home with dirt on her hands and on her clothes. But a few scolding wasn't enough to hinder two people enjoying each other’s company. 

The two got closer and they would meet even on the days when Yeongkwan’s family wasn't at their plantation to work. Years passed by and as the two grew into maturity, so did their feelings. Their unlikely friendship had inevitably blossomed into something deeper, more intimate. 

Their attraction to each other was as clear as day, but the future of their relationship was as vague as the night sky filled with clouds. Of course, a daughter of a rich man and a farmer’s son? Such could never be. Yeongkwan and Misun knew that from the very start, deep within the recesses of their heart, but both had already fallen in too deep, and there was nowhere else to go but forward. 

There came a time when Yeongkwan thought their unofficial relationship was on the brink of failing. It was when Misun was about to celebrate her coming of age, and with that came the obligation to select a suitor of her parents’ choosing, one she would inevitably be married off to. Misun thought it was about time they addressed the burden that will soon be in her hands. 

Clearly, there was only one man she thought was suited for her, and it was Yeongkwan. He was gentle, caring, loving, and understanding. He was the man she always wanted but could never have - only because he was lacking, financially, in her parents’ eyes. Destiny had its wretched ways of wrecking the poor souls of people who just want to love and be loved. 

Misun picked a sunny day to express her perturbation, in the hopes that it might help ease the storm that was brewing in her heart, in case Yeongkwan might give up on her just as he had feared. The young man had met her at the usual rendezvous, and walked together in silence and trepidation towards their favorite spot: under the shade of an oak tree, of their oak tree. 

As Yeongkwan rests his back against the trunk, Misun shyly leans towards him, resting her head on his shoulder. The man’s heart thumps wildly against his chest, trying to control his emotions over the simple action. Misun is likewise not doing any better, overcoming her shyness to initiate a small display of affection, unsure if this might be the last they might see each other. 

The couple sit there for a while, just enjoying the cool breeze of autumn. When she deems it the right time to say it, she looks up at Yeongkwan, placing a hand over his. “My love, as you know, I am coming of age in a few days’ time, and I will have no choice but to select a suitor of my parents’ choosing, but I want you to know that you are the only one for me.”

Yeongkwan places a hand atop hers and Misun feels the slightest ounce of security seep into her. “I desire no one else but you, Yeongkwan,” Misun repeats her sentiments. 

“So do I, my love. I wish you not to worry because I have saved enough to pay for your dowry. We shall be together soon, Misun. I...I love you and my world is not complete if you’re not in it.” 

Misun sits up straighter, looking at the man of her dreams with nothing else but fondness in her eyes. “I love you too, Yeongkwan. So much more than you will ever know.” 

The young man fishes for something in the small pouch tied to his  pants and brings out a ring. Misun looks at him expectantly, pursing her lips in anticipation. “Misun, my love, if you will allow me to do so, please accept this ring, one that I have crafted with my own hands, as a symbol of my unending love.” 

Ever so gently, Misun slips her hand onto Yeongkwan’s open palm, and as the latter inserts the ring, Misun suddenly stops him. “My dearest, it had just come to me...should mother see this on my fingers, she will have this discarded at once without question and I do not wish to lose something of such a sentimental value.” 

Yeongkwan nods, understanding her predicament, but the young man was always ready, always thinking thoroughly ahead before doing something. So with a smile, he pulls forth a string from the same pouch he’d taken the same ring from and shoots it through the ring. Warmth blossoms in Misun’s chest, tilting her head a little so her lover can tie the string around her neck. 

“I think I prefer the necklace better… after all, it’s the one closer to my heart.” Yeongkwan, in a sudden burst of emotion, takes his lover’s face in his palms and presses his lips to hers. He feels Misun freeze in her spot, and Yeongkwan quickly pulls away, profusely apologizing for his brazen behavior. 

All of a sudden, beside him, he hears the most delightful sound in the world: Misun’s laughter. She continues laughing even with Yeongkwan staring at her, hand on his forearm for support. “Oh, goodness. I am so sorry, Yeongkwan,” Misun says, wiping away the tears that welled in the corner of her eyes. 

“I just...it was...that was my first kiss.” 

Yeongkwan’s mouth falls open in shock, and shame. “That was you first kiss?! I mean, that was mine too...but your first kiss should have been more romantic unlike here, where...we’re just under the shade…” Yeongkwan stammers out a confession, only causing Misun to laugh harder. 

As the young man turns beet red at the sudden realization of his words, Misun coos at him, giving him a gentle pat on his shoulder. Shyly, she speaks up, “If you want...we could try again?” Yeongkwan doesn’t think twice about the offer, once more connecting their lips together. 

That same day, the couple had gone back to Misun’s house with Yeongkwan’s determination to present himself as a suitor and win over her parent’s hearts next. They pass through the plantation with a spring in their steps while the other servants who recognize Yeongkwan stare at the two whose obvious love for each other surpasses their judgmental looks. 

Misun’s family was enjoying lunch by the time they arrived at their destination, and at the sight of the pair with hands intertwined, the light mood inside the Min household quickly dissolves into thin air. Her father’s face falls when realization dawn on him, while her mother refuses to meet her own daughter’s eyes, disappointment hanging in her features. 

The Min patriarch exhales as he puts his silver chopsticks down and looks at the boy. “Yeongkwan, is it?” Min Mansoo asks, wiping the corners of his mouth with a cloth. “Yes, Master Min.” 

“Why don’t you sit and eat with us?” Mansoo offers, and Misun’s grip on Yeongkwan tightens. The sensation makes Yeongkwan hesitate, but he doesnt want to disappoint his future father-in-law by not following his orders. 

With one last reassuring look at Misun, he lets go of her hand and sits himself to a corner where Mansoo had pointed at. As soon as Yeongkwan settles down, Mansoo tells him to join their lunch, gesturing to the food. “How is your family Yeongkwan?” 

“I am thankful to our ancestors for keeping them well, Master Min.” Mansoo nods, never keeping his eyes off the young man as he places a spoonful of rice in his mouth. 

“Yeongkwan, son, if you dont mind…” Mansoo starts, staring at the young man, “...there are some things we would like to discuss as a family first....in private.” Yeongkwan quickly catches on, gently squeezing Misun’s hand in his before thanking the Min patriarch for letting him partake in their lunch and leaving afterwards. 

“Father,” Misun begins, but her father cuts her off quickly. “Don’t...just...I dont want to hear it Misun,” Mansoo replies, calming himself down. “How could you do this to your own family?” 

“Father,” the plantation heiress tries to call her father’s attention one more time, but it’s her mother who stops her from doing so this time, hand shooting over to grab her wrist as a warning signal. 

“I trusted you, Misun! I knew it in me that you would have good judgment, but you broke that promise just like that! All those years, all this time - you had been talking to that man?” 

“Yeongkwan is a good man, unlike the others who wish to court me,” Misun mumbles, not meeting her father’s eyes. Mansoo pounds his fist against the table, startling everyone present. 

“I don’t care if you think he is a good man or not, Misun! How can you assure yourself that it’s you he wishes to marry and not your wealth?” Misun’s lips start trembling, frightened at her father’s sudden outburst. “Do you not get the point here?! He is...he’s but a mere servant, Misun! Even if he had good intentions, life is difficult to come by! Will you have enough food to place on your table for each day? Will your children live comfortably just as you have? You cannot be with such a man! I forbid you to ever meet him again. In fact, I am forbidding you from even leaving the house without your mother. And that is final, Misun. Lunch is over. Nobody better bother me in my office.” 

Misun’s knuckles turn white with the grip she has on her skirt, fighting the tears that threaten to fall as she storms off to her own room. 

Just as Mansoo had ordered, Misun hadn’t stepped outside their house in a week. The girl had no intention to leave either, if she was to be accompanied by her mother at all times like a little child. The poor young lady cried day and night, restless and anxious about what the near future might hold, especially if the only man she’s ever loved might not be in it. 

Yeongkwan, likewise, was not doing any better, tense for hours on end. He had visited Misun for the entire week after meeting her family, yet he was only greeted by closed windows and the cold evening air. Tomorrow was the day he had been dreading ever since he’d fallen for Misun, and fears, maybe, just maybe, some things aren't just meant to be. 

It was finally the day of Misun’s choosing, and a feast had been prepared to celebrate such a ceremonious occasion. A glum Misun was assisted by two other servants during dawn in preparation for the days’ activities. The mood was heavy even for the other servants, as their usually bubbly Misun had lost her light and her beautiful smile. For the entire morning, Misun had greeted the guests with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

She was also afforded time to spend with each of her suitors - time she spent imagining Yeongkwan by her side and not these strangers. A voice beside her startles her from her preoccupied thoughts, “You should pick him,” the man supposedly her suitor speaks, leaning backwards as he leans his weight onto his arms. 

“Excuse me?” Misun asks, looking up from where she had been playing with the grass. “I think you should go for the man you truly love,” he says, gesturing to Yeongkwan staring at Misun from a distance. The oblivious Misun turns to look at who her suitor was pertaining to, yet finds no one. The stranger exhales, enjoying the breeze, “Marrying to maintain your status had always been pointless. Unless you really have no regard for your own emotions, then marriage is but a contract, and not a lifelong bond and commitment to another person.” 

“You think so too?” 

“I know so too,” the man winks at her, causing her to giggle - the closest she had been to being genuinely happy for the entire week. The kind stranger gives her a small, reassuring smile. “Go, I’ll cover for you.” 

Yeongkwan’s heart clenches when he sees Misun hug another man, defeatedly looking away. He mounts his horse, taking one last look at Misun’s house and wishing the love of his life a happy relationship with her betrothed. As Yeongkwan pulls on the reins, he hears hurried steps approaching him and a familiar voice calling his name. 

He looks back to see Misun running towards him, waving her arms to catch his attention. Quickly, he gets down from his horse and patiently waits for Misun to arrive. The wide grin on Misun’s face is unmissable, and Yeongkwan wonders if she truly had feelings for him in the first place, being able to smile like this even if this was possibly the last time he will see her. “I see you have already chosen a man to be your husband,” Yeongkwan states, keeping his voice as stable as he could. 

“I did,” Misun replies, eyes twinkling. 

“I guess this is goodbye then?” 

A fond smile graces Misun’s lips. “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Confusion takes over Yeongkwan's  features, “Wasn’t the man you were with earlier the one you chose to be with for the rest of your life?” 

“You might have missed something there. I think you mean, ‘it’s the man I am with now that I have chosen to be with for the rest of my life’.” Yeongkwan’s eyes widen when he processes Misun’s words. “What are you talking about?” 

“I choose you, Jeon Yeongkwan. I will always choose you.” The girl stands on her tiptoes and places a chaste kiss on his Yeongkwan’s lips, still slightly parted in shock. “Now, take me away, Yeongkwan, you have me.” The man wastes no time, getting back up on his horse first before helping Misun up the steed. 

It’s been a whole moon since the Jeon family had been first invited for dinner over at the royal palace and tonight, the king had sent another invite to have lunch with him tomorrow. At first, he had found the king’s favor towards his family a blessing, but now, everytime he sees the way the king looks at his family, it seems as if it was just an awful nightmare just waiting to come true. 

Misun notices the steely look on her husband’s face and rests her head against his shoulder. “Are you alright, my love?” Yeongkwan forces a smile onto his face, but Misun sees right through it. “Do you not wish to have lunch with the King tomorrow? Your decision is likewise mine.” 

Yeongkwan quickly shakes his head no, not wanting to overthink the whole thing. As soon he places a kiss on his wife’s forehead, Misun decides to drop the subject, but still worries for her husband. 

Just as Yeongkwan had expected, their visit wasn’t any better than the last. The bitterness was slowly seeping into him, so much that he’s greatly tempted to make an excuse to get back home at once. As he takes a sip from the samgyetang the palace cooks had prepared for them, he thinks about the king’s attempts to impress his family. 

Today, King Daesin had gone so far as to let the children play among the palace gardens and had granted his entire family access to wherever they may wish to roam around. The boys, beaming at the idea, finish their food heartily and as quickly as they could, before promptly asking the king if they could go ahead and play outside. Daesin, taking joy in their mutual enthusiasm, gets up and ushers the children and Misun outside. As if he’d almost forgotten Yeongkwan was also present, Daesin had also told him to come join his family. As if he needed any inviting. 

Yeongkwan trails behind the four of them quietly. As the King carries his two sons in both arms, they giggle excitedly, happily bouncing in King Daesin’s hold. Just as he exits the king’s private hanok, he comes face to face with the chief advisor, Park Joomin. 

“Ah, General Jeon!” the older man greets, bowing curtly. “Chief Advisor Park! You do know there is no need to address me by my previous title. It’s such a pleasure to see you again after so long. You seem well.” 

“I am,” Joomin nods, “I am grateful to our ancestors for guiding us throughout the war and giving us another life to live.” 

Yeongkwan averts his gaze from the chief advisor for a moment to watch his wife run along with their kids in tow, and the king running after them. The chief advisor follows his line of sight and confirms his suspicions. Joomin thought it wasn’t something one should spend time thinking about at first, but now as he sees the king almost transform into a completely different person. 

His informant told him of the Jeon family’s visits getting more frequent, so Joomin decided to stay close and watch their interactions from afar. Today though, his intuitions are leaning towards the affirmative and decides to confront the former general about it, in the hopes that his offer might just save the future of the southern city. 

Park Joomin leans closer and places a hand on Yeongkwan’s shoulder. “I hope you don't mind me being honest with you, Yeongkwan, because there is something I wish to address to you - from one friend to another.” 

Yeongkwan’s brows furrow slightly in suspicion. Sure, they’ve fought side by side during the war, but they never really had any interaction besides fighting their common enemies together. 

“I am all ears, advisor.” Park Joomin nods briefly, before signalling one of his men to leave the two alone. ‘Interesting,’ Yeongkwan thinks, staring out into the lush forest from a distance. 

“Yeongkwan, I know you’re a smart and noble man. Compassionate as well…” the chief advisor starts, placing a firm hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “...and I do not want to tarnish our friendship by saying this but I am unsure whether you are turning a blind eye to the truth or you are simply unaware of it.” Joomin leads them both to an elevated gazebo - one overlooking the palace garden where Yeongkwan’s sons are playing. 

The advisor allows Yeongkwan to settle on a seat before continuing, “Your wife is a lovely woman, she really is. But I fear, it is not only her husband who is wooed by her charms.” 

Yeongkwan gulps. There it is, the truth that Yeongkwan still refuses to believe yet will inevitably have to cope with sooner or later. Today was the day the reality of it all had hit him the hardest. Park Joomin takes Yeongkwan’s silence as his cognizance on the matter. 

“I could not possibly fathom what you must be going through right now.” Joomin throws him an apologetic look. 

‘Of course you don’t,’ the Jeon patriarch answers in his head, ‘Not everyone has their wives catching the king’s attention and their own sons getting closer to the monarch, who was still practically a stranger.’

“I am sorry if this conversation makes your heart ache, but besides being your friend, I also have a duty to our King, and to our nation. Thus, I will no longer have to mollify my words. Our city needs an heir to strengthen the throne. We might have won the war against the colonizers, yet this had only fueled traitors who wish to turn against their own cities. The Great Colonization had only made us realize how weak the bond is between the government and our citizens - how easy it would be to penetrate our land from the inside, just like that.” 

“We need to strengthen our city’s foundation, Yeongkwan. And...and I think your wife just might be the solution.” Yeongkwan averts his gaze from the chief advisor when he sees the latter glance at him. Joomin finds having to explain the further details of the resolution unnecessary, deeming Yeongkwan already knowing of what dilemma he is to face. 

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© joontier 2020

[sleepy-exe]

Shapeshifter AU - 7

Iwaizumi x f!reader

<< Part 6 | Part 8 >>

Summary: Y/n goes to the park with Iwaizumi and finds a shapeshifter friend. Mizuki wants to know about this guy Y/n has been spending time with.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none

Genre: sfw (18+ regardless), shapeshifter au, strangers to lovers

Part 7: We Could Be Friends

Y/n and Iwaizumi made plans to go to one of the forest parks nearly a week ago. But due to busy schedules, they didn't have any free days line up until now. This was the first time in awhile Y/n had been to a park in the forest in a long time. Which meant she wasn’t exactly the best guide. Luckily the park had marked paths through the area versus her usual running wild anywhere between the trees. Seeing sunshine through the trees may have been even prettier than the moonlight at night, tucked behind the treetops.

Used to the quietness of nocturnal animals and lack of any people, this area felt like another world even though they weren’t too far off from one of her frequented nighttime spots. Walking alongside Iwaizumi, she found herself almost constantly catching the sounds and movements of birds and small critters that she wouldn’t normally get to experience. She tried not to get distracted too much anytime Iwaizumi started talking. But with the new sounds and different scents through the trees, she couldn’t help but get distracted some.

“I thought you said you’ve been out here before,” Iwaizumi questioned, breaking her trance of the world around her.

“Huh? Oh.” She realized she had really slowed down her pace but quickly sped up again. “Yeah, but it's been a minute. It’s so.. alive here.”

“Alive? Isn’t fall kind of the opposite,” he said, crossing his arms. “And I mean, it's nice out here, but the way you keep looking around.. It’s like you’ve never seen such a place before.”

She laughed nervously. “Well, the last time I was out here I didn’t notice so many animals.”

He looked around, trying to spot something in the trees or fallen leaves, but other than a squirrel and a couple of birds he couldn’t find anything that could possibly be so interesting. But he decided not to argue. “Right,” fingers tapping his left bicep.

Soon they came across a stream off to the side of the designated path; likely the same stream that ran through where she sat with Sakusa a couple of weeks ago. Y/n took it upon herself to lead them off the path towards it. As she sat down in the leaves, Iwaizumi stood next to her, eyes narrowing. “Aren’t we supposed to stay on the paths?”

She looked up to him and smirked before bringing her attention to the water. “So? What, we might get yelled at? It’ll be fine.”

He watched her for a moment, then sat beside her. “I really don’t want to get kicked out of a park.”

She snickered. “Do you think this is any worse than showin’ up after dark? It’s fine! Just sit here and listen.”

He followed her command. “..The birds?”

“Hmm. Yes, but not just those. You can hear the water move, the breeze shuffling leaves, and there’s either squirrels or chipmunks running around the trees and ground.. Just sit here and relax, listening and being in nature.” She looked around to where she heard each sound as she spoke.

But he can’t hear every sound that she can. “Yeah, I guess I can do that..”

She took the chance to stubbly take in the new sights and sounds, getting better attuned with her lively-to-her surroundings. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before she looked over to him and realized he had been staring at her. Her eyes widened for a split second. “Come on.” She shoved his shoulder with a playfully grin before standing and dusting off her pants. “We’re like what, half around this trail?” She grabbed his arm and dragged him back towards the path with her.

They walked along the path for a while. Watching squirrels run about and climb trees, listening to everything Y/n had pointed out.

Her phone started buzzing repeatedly, so she slipped it out of her pocket to check what’s going on.

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “r u out on that date yet?”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “u said that’s today right?”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “when am i going to meet him”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “not a date. i told you that”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “i barely know anything about him n dont even know what he looks like >:(“

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “come onnnnn i wanna see this guy that managed to get ur attention”

She chuckled. “It’s Mizuki.”

“How’s she?”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “as if you and sakusa didnt get my attention”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “what’s wrong with me having a new friend?”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “yeah but sakusa was all but forced into our friendship and i forced my way into your heart so whooo forced this lil friendship-thing? Who do i have to thank for helping socialize our Y/n”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Apparently dying to meet you.”

He raised his eyebrows and slid his hands in his pockets. “You talk about me to your friends?”

“Mmm.. Well, it's hard to keep things from her. It seems like she always finds a way.” She crinkled her nose as they passed a plant that had a strong odor to her, though Iwaizumi didn't seem phased. “That and she saw me texting ya the other day and had to ask questions.” She shook her head. “The ever curious, Mizu’.”

He laughed. “She sounds.. interesting to have around.”

She giggled. “She’s high energy, but she means well. She’s just curious.”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “wow”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “i am capable of making friends on my own you know”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “uh huh and i’ll get to see him when?”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “why are you hiding him ;P is he that hot that you want to hide him away lol”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “love u”

“Maybe you should introduce us.” He bumped into her, grinning.

“If I do that she might drag you on last minute adventures. Which could range from running around downtown or staying in. But mostly out.” She gave a half shrug.

“That almost sounds like a complaint,” he said.

She waved a hand defensively. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the city and coming out here, but I prefer staying in more than she does.”

“Maybe we should have stayed in then.” He looked her over, noticing she was no longer looking around constantly. “Though you seem.. Not so overwhelmed now.”

She blushed in embarrassment. “Ah- Hmm, I’d say more like.. Deeply enjoying.. This place.”

He looked unimpressed by her poor explanation. “Uh huh.”

She cleared her throat and their conversation paused as they made their way to the end of the path. Enjoying the sights and sounds around them in the process.

“But really, I do love her and love having her around.” She giggled quietly to herself. “There’s not a dull moment with her. I may have to raise her spirits from time to time, but she can do the same for me.”

He smiled softly. “Sounds like you’re good friends.”

She hummed an agreement. “Maybe I will introduce you sometime.”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “love you”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “You became friends in college, right?” He tilted his head towards her.

She shook her head. “Yeah. We were both business majors and had a couple of classes together.. my second year, I think. And well, she has a way of befriending anyone. So next thing ya know, we were friends.”

Approaching the parking lot, they stopped to chat. Not having plans for if their little outing stopped here or not.

“Do you ever do anything other than go for walks or to bars in your free time?”

“I go out to eat,” she said matter-of-factly, then looked around the lot in front of them until she spotted her car. She found Iwaizumi’s green Tacoma several cars down from hers in the process.

He nodded slowly. “Okay.. but if those three things suddenly didn’t exist what would you do?”

She shrugs nonchalantly. “Guess I’d die.” She smirked.

He rolled his eyes and pointed to his truck. “So you don’t want to go to grab a bite then?”

“You have found my one true weakness,” she says dramatically with a hand on her chest and a sarcastic grin.

He shook his head. “Come on, follow me. There’s a little cafe not far from here, if that’s your thing. I can give you the address.”

She happily agrees at the promise of food and they head for her Civic. She drops into the driver’s seat and leaves the door wide open while Iwaizumi gives her the address. Once she has the GPS ready to go, he walks around the car to head for his truck. Kicking one leg outside the car, she texts Mizuki, deciding to entertain her with a selfie of the two from the beginning of their walk.

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “here”

>> To ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “Attachment.jpg”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “ooohh!! owo”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “he is HOT! no wonder you’re keeping him around”

>> From ‘My Best Bitch <3’: “you met at that bar?? damn maybe i should have joined you lmao”

Hopefully that’ll keep her happy for a bit.

“Hmm?” Blur of orange to her right catching her interest. A gorgeous red fox had appeared while she was preoccupied, walking around the open driver’s door. Her eyes widened at the sight. Foxes typically stayed away from her, but she was almost only ever out here as a wolf, so that’s only to be expected. The fox sat on the pavement, giving her a cheerful tail wag. She cooed, “Hey there lil’ fella.”

Immediately the fox’s ears pulled back, and she swears its face scrunched. Not a minute later the fox swiftly hopped into her car and onto her lap, completely catching her off guard.

“Ho?” She squinted. How strange. She would have never imagined such behavior from a wild fox; though there is a shifter that looks oddly similar that probably would crawl in her lap if given the opportunity. He does have the same set of face markings..

The realization of the situation hit her. “Oh! No no, hey! I’m not alone here!” She quietly scolded the shifter in her lap, looking over to where Iwaizumi had parked but she couldn’t spot his truck passed the other cars from here. “Ah shit, do you need a ride home?” She asked the fox shifter just before he hopped into the backseat.

“Okay, uh, hold on.” She quickly dialed Iwaizumi, “Hey, uh, sorry, um.. No, no.. A friend just got a hold of me and needs me to take them home.. Ah, no! He’s fine, just- ..Actually, can we just change locations? ..Yeah, no, he's remotely close to where you live, kinda, so if you want to go anywhere around there, I can meet you when I’m done or something.. Yeah, yeah! I think I know that place..” She peered into the backseat at the fox. Cupping the microphone and sighing, she whispers to the fox, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Back to the phone, “Okay! I’ll see you there! Sorry, again!” Hanging up, she started the car. “Stay down until we hit the highway. Don’t shift yet either.”

Part 8 >>

[luci-cunt]

hello i am here to inquire if you would be down to share a snippet from ur and moony's sherlock & watson, i will take any and all info you feel like sharing

I lvoe you so much also alkjsdfljas;dlfkjasldjfkas;ldkf yes I’d love to give you the deets. A nonnie asked me for snippets too so I’m making this post 2 parts, this one’s details and this one’s snippettttssss <33333

ok so first of all!!!!!!!!!

Sherlock: in this story is “raised rich, with an older sister (Mycroft, yes, she’s a girl now because I say so). There was always a very severe competitiveness pushed on the two of them because Mycroft was more “normal” aka well behaved. They have an interesting, nitpicky relationship since Mycroft is the golden child of the family but they love one another. Mycroft moved out when she graduated high school to go to college and now works as a high class lawyer, running her own firm. Sherlock on the other hand got shipped around boarding schools before he finally turned 18 and bolted. He’s barely a high school graduate and his father all but cut him off, so Sherlock ended up moving in with a really shitting friend/boyfriend kind of?/ fucking around and discovering his unfortunate predilection for heroine and cocaine thanks to his really, really shitty (now)ex.” Also he cannot deal with owing people anything. Like he calculates out how much cereal/ milk he eats at Watson’s house and how much dishsoap Watson uses to wash the dishes and pays him back for every penny of it. 

Physical description: skinny but reasonably tall, has a difficult relationship with food so he’s lanky as fuck. Moony and I described his as “having and knowing that he has a pretty white boy face which gets him punched on multiple occasions. Also the kind of guy that if you were to run into him in a parkinglot at night you’d probably assume he was going to car jack you. Pretty much just feral. 

The Watson boys: grew up in foster care before getting dumped into a boys home where they met their soon to be brothers--Carrie, Kent, John, and Bill--and thir soon to be dad--Carlton. Bill is trans but hasn’t had surgery so when the ppl running the home find out they decide to send him to a girls home instead, and so the four convince local grouchy police chief Carlton Watson to adopt them all (he helped at the home and bonded with all of them so it made some sense at the time). The boys become the “Watson Boys” which is fine except not because Carlton has no idea how to be a dad so Kent (the oldest of the brothers) takes over at age 16ish and is still bitter about it. (Also Carlton pays for Bill’s surgery/ T). The actual age range is Kent is oldest, then Bill and Carrie (who have birthdays that are like, three days apart and they turn it into “twin week” because everyone in the family calls them the “twins”), and then John, but they treat Bill and Carrie like the babies, and Kent and John as the older bros. John’s also the only brother that didn’t go into the police force (at first) instead going into medicine and then teaching before he met Sherlock. Btw Carrie’s full name is “Carrigan” but everyone calls him Carrie. 

John Watson: withdrawn/ tight laced and realistic to a fault. Pretty much willing to go along with the flow as long as the flow isn’t headed straight towards a 300ft drop into sharp rocks (like it almost always is with Sherlock). He’s very, very particular about his space and being independent/ trying very hard not to rely on other people. He’s also the king of denial and will die with his emotions held wayyyyyyyy down in his chest where he can forget about them. He’s also a demisexual king, which means that when he’s not emotionally connected to someone he doesn’t feel any sexual attraction so he has the habit of “forgetting” that he’s gay because he doesn’t feel attraction for long stretches of time because he’s an idiot <3. 

Physical description: Pilipino, with a round face and chubby cheeks, he’s huge, all the Watson boy’s are actually because Carlton was big on boxing, but also because he eats like he’s never going to see another meal and he’s pretty sure all the whole vegitables in the store are poisonous because he grew up in a house full of idiot teenage boys who only ate frozen broccoli because Kent forced them to. 

Mycroft Holmes and Irene Adler-Holmes: Mycroft is Sherlock’s sister, she’s intense and badass and also will show an emotion maybe when she dies. She is a very successful lawyer who started and runs her own law firm. Hobbies include: pissing off Sherlock. Irene is her girlfriend (at the beginning of the story) and wife by the end, she’s basically if Renee and Allison had a child. Very sweet but will kill you if you’re an asshole. Mycroft is insufferably in love. 

Killian McDoug: Sherlock’s really shitty ex, also this universes’ Moriarty.

Anyways that’s a lot of details I’m sorry aksdlfja;sldfkj I’m very excited Moony and I have been talking about this non-stop for like four days straight. The main premise of the story is that Sherlock watches Watson solve a case and falls in love so he follows him from Portland to Seattle and demands he work with him and solve cases together so they dooooo. They end up falling in love and also have to deal with murder and shit but other than that things are great. 

Sherlock is the living embodiment of a disastor gay and Watson is too but in his own way. There’s fake dating, salads, gays, murder, slow burn, idiots to lovers--aka literally the perfect stew how could you not love it? 

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (20) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey hey! thank u so much if u gave a lil note or sent a bit of love my way for ch19. it was really my fav to write so far so i’m so glad it resonated with at least somebody!! there is only one more chapter to this whole fic after this and i’m emosh. after the rollercoaster ride we’ve all been on, i hope u enjoy this fun lil chapter as much as i loved writing it!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Brooke, Nina, Silky and Vanjie were locked in the library, and Brooke and Vanessa finally talked things out like adults.

this chapter: exams are over, dissertations are submitted, degree classifications are being allocated and the girls are nervously waiting for adult life to hit them like a freight train. what better way to avoid thinking about responsibilities than to go to the beach?

***

The day had started, as most of Scarlet’s days often do, with a message to the group chat.

Well, no, that was a bit of a lie. Scarlet’s day had started with her making breakfast, talking to her Mums over facetime as she ate it, and reassuring them that no, she hadn’t found out her degree classification yet and when she did they’d be the first to know. It was hard beginning each day with her heart in her mouth, frantically checking her phone to see if the website had been updated and then trying to relax when she found out it hadn’t been. Scarlet tried not to think too much about it, post-Uni life that is, but with each passing day it became an unignorable fact that she had to face. Graduation season was a mere month away and Scarlet didn’t want to face it but she had to, because the reality was that Scarlet didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. Not a single clue. Gone were the days of six-year-old Scarlet, who spent the mornings being an actress with a short break at lunchtime to develop her career in the veterinary sector and finishing the day off creating new play-dough recipes for her Michelin-star restaurant. High school had been so good at pushing everyone into a university-shaped mold but now that Scarlet had completed her three years there she felt a little like the aquarium fish in Finding Nemo once they had escaped their glass box: stuck in a plastic bag bubble, thrown out into the vast, unexplored ocean, and simply asking herself now what? Really, what could she do with a Philosophy degree? Everyone asked her the same question when she’d been making her UCAS choices and now here she was asking herself the same thing. She wished she could remember what 18-year-old Scarlet had replied. Her Mums had been surprisingly supportive of the whole endeavour, but then again they had probably been happy to have their pouty, whining teenage daughter out of the house. Funny how times change, Scarlet thought to herself as she squeezed a generous dollop of washing-up liquid onto the sponge and dunked her empty plate into the hot water she’d filled the sink with. Her Mums had just been on the phone encouraging Scarlet to move back home while she decided on what to do next. It was tempting, but the prospect of being back in the country all isolated and away from her friends and Yvie and the exciting busy-ness of the city didn’t exactly fill Scarlet with glee.

Hearing her phone buzz against the counter, Scarlet almost smashed her newly-dried plate in her haste to read the notification just in case it was an email about her classification. It wasn’t. It was, however, a message from the girls. Nina, to be precise.

Kim Kardashian-West: GUYS it’s meant to be the SUNNIEST day today and Monet’s flat are all going to the beach!!! we should all go too!

Scarlet frowned, looking at the decidedly grey sky. It didn’t exactly inspire much hope.

Yvie’s bitch: Are you sure you’re reading the forecast for today? It looks a bit grey outside xxxx

Kim Kardashian-West: Scarlet I’m a primary teacher. A basic knowledge of the days of the week are kind of an entry level requirement

cursed SatNav voice: Am I FUCK going to sit freezing my ass off on the sand watching the rain piss down all around me!!

cursed SatNav voice: If i wanted to get soaked I would just call Brooke xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No.

cursed SatNav voice: Ain’t that right @Brooke Lynn Hytes

Maple Syrup: you know it bby xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Hell. I’m in hell.

Scarlet snorted a laugh. Akeria could well have been joking or deadly serious. Looking up and out of the tiny little window that was positioned beside the sink, Scarlet swore she could see a small ray of sunshine fighting through the clouds. She tilted her head, considering Nina’s offer.

Okay Then: yes i am absolutely down to get blackout day drunk today

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Bitch it’s 11am who hurt you

Okay Then: listen this is perhaps the only time of our lives where we have literally no responsibilities at all. i’m getting drunk

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: I sent off nine masters’ applications yesterday.

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No responsibilities my ass

Okay Then: well as huge as it is, i’m sure even it could use a little sun xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WHY ARE YOU HOES ALL SO SENSIBLE AND GLOOMY? I’M WITH PLASTIQUE LET’S GO GET DRUNK

Maple Syrup: Ooooh now you mention it a fruity cider would go down so well right now

Yvie’s bitch: Yeah go on then, I’m down!! Xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s bitch: Scarlet it’s literally 13 degrees outside you’re insane

Scarlet’s bitch: but admittedly you are also my girlfriend who i love very much

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EW

Scarlet’s bitch: so if you’re down i’m down

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: UGH fine i’ll go if all you idiots are too

Kim Kardashian-West: AAAH you guys this makes me so HAPPY!!!

Kim Kardashian-West: We only need Vanjie for a full house

Maple Syrup: Vanjie if you come I’ll let you suck my dick

cursed SatNav voice: How big is it

Maple Syrup: 2.75 inches when fully erect

Maple Syrup: Invisible to the human eye when flaccid

cursed SatNav voice: Hard pass

Scarlet’s bitch: Jesus Harvey Christ

cursed SatNav voice: But you bitches convinced me so i’m in

It turned out that most of the girls were still in their pyjamas, much like Scarlet, so they were given an hour to shower and make their way there. They were lucky that the city sat on the coast, and although much of the coastline was dedicated to harbours and pebble beaches there was one little beautiful strip of sand that lay about a half-hour bus ride out to the suburbs. Yvie and Brooke were getting a lift from Plastique and so they offered the last seat to Scarlet, but Scarlet didn’t want to take the girls out of their way. Besides, the sun was peeking out a little stronger now, and if it was to fully appear then it would be perfect weather for earphones, a summer playlist, and looking out of a bus window pretending she was in a music video.

Stepping outside of her flat, Scarlet was glad she’d ended up choosing dungaree shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It was definitely warmer than it looked, and she had to sweep her hair up into a ponytail to stop her neck getting too hot. She stopped off at the corner shop for a four-pack of cider (Brooke’s message had made her want some) and then walked over to the bus stop, where she managed to get one after not too long of a wait and sat on the top deck, letting the growing rays of sun fry her through the window. Once she was off the bus, she checked her phone for the meetup point. Nina, Monet and her flatmates were sat on the sand “around 10 metres in front of the chippy. But Monet has no concept of measurement so it’s anyone’s guess, really.”. Scarlet didn’t mind a small walk to find them. The promenade was packed with people all dressed in Summer clothes, the pavement giving off that smell of hot gravel which always reminded Scarlet of hot days and happy memories. The platinum-white sun cast its rays over the deep blue of the sea so that little diamonds sparkled against the waves, all tumbling over each other lazily and every so often giving a satisfying crash which mingled with the sounds of dogs barking and children giving happy cries. Scarlet found the chip shop but couldn’t see the girls amongst the mass of bodies laid out on the golden sand, so she shot Nina a text. As she waited for a reply, Scarlet took a deep breath and was hit with the unmistakable smell of the sea and chippy batter combining at once. She was a Winter person- she preferred frosty mornings and dark twinkly nights and getting cosy with a searing hot coffee and her duvet, but she loved how happy Summer seemed to make everyone, the sense of community that came with a hot, sunny day. Once Nina had given the other landmark of “there’s a guy with an inflatable sofa to our immediate right”, Scarlet managed to find the girls with no trouble and she was soon dashing towards them excitedly and letting out an embarrassingly childish squeal as she reached Nina and crashed into her in a hug.

“Scarlet!” she greeted her cheerfully, much of her face obscured by a huge floppy woven sunhat. Breaking out of the hug, she turned to address Monet’s flatmates. “Guys, you remember Scarlet, right?”

There was a chorus of welcoming noises as the other girls greeted her, some more distractedly than others. Cracker was busy rubbing her arm with a thick streak of white sunblock which seemed to have the same consistency as double cream, Bob was laid out against a bright pink beach towel with a set of huge sunglasses over her eyes, and Monique was trying her best to remove the cork from a bottle of cava. Monet was by Nina’s side, her head resting against her girlfriend’s shoulder as she stretched her legs out and buried her feet in the sand.

“Hey, congrats for finishing uni, Miss Scarlet,” Monet smiled at her, Scarlet smiling back despite the fact she was being reminded of adult life hurtling towards her like a bullet train.

“Thanks! Congrats to you both too. How does it feel to have an actual certified genius for a girlfriend?”

“Like I’m horrifically inferior and will never amount to anything.”

“Shut up!” Nina battered her on the arm, outraged as Monet and Scarlet shared a laugh. Nina had received a mark of 95 on her dissertation, a number that the girls had considered impossible to attain at university, but Nina had managed it. It was quite revolutionary as far as undergrad research went; a study into how well-prepared teachers felt to support transgender children in schools, with recommendations as to how to do just that within its conclusion and a call for councils to give further money and resources to the cause. “Your diss was amazing as well.”

“Yeah, what do you mean that more research into ability groupings in maths isn’t groundbreaking?” Monet rolled her eyes, laughing again as Nina protested.

“Who knew so much effort went into a primary teaching degree? I always thought your dissertation would be to…I don’t know, write a children’s book, or make a picture out of pasta spirals and glitter, or create a nursery rhyme or something,” Cracker piped up, Bob giving a snort beside her. Monet looked ready to defend her degree angrily when Nina sat up straight and fixed Cracker with an intrigued look.

“Oh, a nursery rhyme? Like…there was a young girl named Cracker, who was an incredible slacker. Her degree was dumb, so she tried to make fun, of her friends who decided to smack her.”  

Scarlet let out a screech, as did Monique and Bob. Cracker could only burst out laughing and throw her hands up in defeat as Monet grabbed Nina’s face and pressed an emphatic kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, babe, I love you so much,” she laughed, wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye.

“Love you too!” Nina smiled happily, just as Monique finally got the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying, hollow pop.

“Aw, you hoes got champagne on arrival? How fancy.”  

The girls turned around at the familiar voice to find Silky, Akeria and Vanjie all making their way towards them from the promenade. Excited again, Scarlet ran to hug them, namely Vanjie who she hadn’t seen since their final exam. They hadn’t spent too much time together but it had been enough time for Vanessa to elaborate on the story she’d told the girls in the group chat of how she, Silky, Brooke and Nina had all somehow been locked in the library overnight. Scarlet knew that had had something to do with the fact that she and Brooke were friends again. She didn’t know whether they’d fucked their frustrations out or actually talked like adults, but whatever they’d done Scarlet was glad about it. Whether or not they were reconnecting with a view to getting back together or not, Vanessa and Brooke were back to flirting on the group chat like high schoolers, and all was back to normal.

“Right, who’s wanting some of this? I’m not sure I got enough for everyone, though,” Monique asked loudly. Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanessa stayed silent as the other girls clamoured for some fizz. She knew Vanjie had broken things off with Monique, whatever “things” were, and Scarlet somehow didn’t think she was enjoying being on the other side of a breakup much either.

“Did you even bring cups?” Bob asked, sitting up and quirking an eyebrow at her flatmate. Monique groaned.

“Ah, fuck, cups.”

“You absolute idiot sandwich,” Cracker rolled her eyes at her. Her eyes darted quickly to Vanessa before she stood up and grabbed her purse from her backpack. “C’mon. I’ll come to the shops with you and we can get some.”

The two girls walked away as Silky, Akeria and Vanessa all laid out what looked to be a duvet cover that they’d brought with them in lieu of a towel or blanket. Scarlet didn’t even think to question it. She knew it had been Silky’s idea without needing to ask.

“I feel like a dick,” Vanessa jerked a thumb towards Monique’s retreating frame.

“Don’t,” Monet and Bob said in unison, Nina letting out a small laugh.

“Y’all are The Shining levels of creepy,” Akeria frowned, digging out three huge bottles of beer from a shopping bag and giving one to each of her flatmates.

“Well, we’re right! You were friends with benefits, everyone knew that. It’s not Monique’s fault she caught feels but it sure as hell ain’t yours either,” Bob shrugged, ever the blunt but honest friend.

“So what is going on with you and Brooke now?” Monet asked, leaning forward and propping herself up on her elbows. Vanessa fixed her with an unimpressed look.

“Gee Monet, whatever happened to so how’ve you guys been, or how was exams, or literally any other small talk?”

“Yeah, and whatever happened to it’s none of our business?” Nina side-eyed her girlfriend disapprovingly.

“Well, girl! We’ve been in dissertation hell for a month and a half. Shit kinda got boring,” Monet shrugged semi-apologetically. “Anyway Vanjie, Monique’s away and Brooke’s not here yet and I doubt you want to talk about it when either of those two are here in front of you? And I’ve been trying to grill Neens about it but she keeps using lame excuses like we shouldn’t be getting involved and shouldn’t you be thinking about your classroom, so c’mon, bitch, spill.”

Vanessa smiled slightly, gesturing as if it was obvious. “Well, she knows I love her. And she loves me.”

Monet let out an “aaw!” at the same time Akeria let out an “ugh”. Vanjie ignored them both and continued.

“But she hurt me, so I ain’t lettin’ her get back in my good books that easy. Of course I wanna be with her, more than anything else in the world, but we need to get that trust back before I even entertain the idea.”

“So have you…y’know…had any kinky, passionate reunion sex yet?” Monet winked at her. Vanessa looked at her flatmates, a humoured smile playing on her lips.

“Akeria’s threatened to kick me out the flat if I even so much as think about it.”

The girls howled with laughter as Akeria tried to suppress a smile. “She thinks I’m joking.”

“I really don’t,” Vanjie raised her eyebrows at her, Akeria playfully shoving her onto the fluffy sand beside her and causing her to get it all up her side. “God fucking damnit, now I don’t even get to look nice when she arrives.”

“Oh, here she comes now, actually,” Silky said, nonplussed. Vanessa scowled at her.

“Quit playin’.”

Scarlet followed Silky’s gaze. “No, Vanj, she actually is.”

As Vanessa muttered a shit, Scarlet waved excitedly at Plastique, Brooke and Yvie, smiling when the latter pulled a goofy face and waved back. Plastique seemed to be carrying something huge and wooden underneath her arm.

“Lord Jesus, what the hell is she doing,” Silky shook her head as the girls came closer into view. Scarlet jumped up happily to hug her girlfriend, Brooke muttered a soft hey as she sat down next to Vanjie and hugged her, and Plastique, after she’d greeted the others, unfolded a multicoloured striped deckchair.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Scarlet let out a laugh, unsure whether to be impressed or exasperated by Plastique’s levels of extra.

“What?! It’s a sunny day, we’re at the beach, this is literally what deckchairs are for! Have fun getting sand in every possible orifice, losers,” she stuck out her tongue at them as she sat back and gave a happy sigh.

“Ariel not joining us today?” Nina asked.

“Nah, she’s gone home to see her parents. Why the hell you’d want to go home now when you could be dragging out your last month of uni life is totally beyond me, but hey.”

Yvie gave a deep laugh. “Plastique, your family have a townhouse in London, a chalet in Chamonix with membership to a private ski resort, and a literal penthouse in Dubai with an outdoor pool on a balcony. Why the fuck are you here?”

The girls all exploded with laughter, even Plastique conceding with a smile and a self-aware shrug that she was a rich bitch.

“Hey, I’m moving back in after graduation and won’t see you guys for ages, let me enjoy your shitty company.”

“You could fly us all out,” Brooke smiled hopefully, cracking the top off her bottle of cider with her keys.

“Yeah, lemme borrow twenty grand off my Mum real quick,” Plastique snorted sardonically.

Bob reached across to Monique’s cava, giving a small sip. “I’m moving home too. Gotta save money.”

“At least you both know what you’re doing,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, trying not to sound too bitter and accidentally just coming out with the verbal equivalent of black coffee. Luckily, Brooke held out her bottle and nodded emphatically.

“We can’t all have Akeria’s serial-killer levels of ambition or just walk into a job like Monet and Nina.”

“Hey! It’s a probationary year that we could literally fail if we screw up, stop thinking we have things easy,” Nina protested.

“How could you possibly fail being a teacher unless you literally boot a child in the face?” Yvie laughed in disbelief. Seeing Monet and Nina gearing themselves up for a verbal sparring match, she gesticulated wildly. “I’m kidding, ladies, I’m kidding! You work very hard and kids are little shits and you don’t get paid enough. Happy?”

“Very,” Monet rolled her eyes, accepting the cava that Bob held out to her and taking a swig before passing it to Nina.

“What’re you guys doing after uni?” Bob asked, then instantly cringed hearing the groans she got in response. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot that question is basically Satan incarnate.”

“Well, I applied to a bunch of newspapers. But the journalism industry is a shitshow anyway, so fuck knows what I’m doing or if they’ll even accept me,” Silky sighed. Her mood was decidedly flat. It was rare for her to be anything other than high-energy, volume turned all the way up to 100.

“Well, your classification might help!” Bob said comfortingly. Scarlet looked at Silky to gauge her reaction. She didn’t know if she’d been given hers yet, but the girl’s embarrassed face soon gave her an answer.

“Well I got a 2:2, so. Probably not,” she shrugged, Bob trying to backtrack apologetically. Scarlet felt bad for Silky. There was nothing wrong with a 2:2 and a degree was still a degree, but she knew how much Silky believed that despite her grades not being great, she’d still pull it out of the bag in the end, maybe manage one essay that pulled her marks up. Even though the girls were all still proud of her, it was another thing for her to let herself down.

“We’re still proud of you, Silky. You worked fucking hard and you got your degree, and that’s something to celebrate,” Nina smiled affirmingly, holding the cava out for Silky to drink. She smiled gratefully at the girls around her before accepting.

“Thanks, ladies,” she said quietly, before taking a swig. The cava seemed to return Silky back to normal, and she cried out after drinking. “An’ besides! 2:1s are boring anyway. Go hard or go home, bitch, and I’m goin’ the fuck home!”

The girls indulged Silky in a laugh. They sat for a while, chatting easily and passing the bottle of cava around, the lack of cups now not so much of a problem as it had seemed previously.

“Hey, anyone want a paddle?” Brooke asked suddenly. Scarlet gave a snort of outrage.

“You’re insane. That water’s got to be minus five.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun! Vanj?” Brooke asked, her voice hopeful. Vanessa shrugged easily, casting the girl a quick smile and then dragging Akeria and Silky to their feet.

“To be fair, I am getting really warm. Getting my feet cold might be nice,” Nina reasoned out loud. Monet jumped up with her cheerfully. “Yvie, you coming?”

“Nah. Think I’ll stay here with my girl,” Yvie squeezed Scarlet’s hand, Scarlet smiling back at her happily.

“Awww, Yvie! You’re too cute,” Plastique cried sarcastically from her deckchair, the other girls laughing. She was too busy sunbathing to paddle, but Bob decided she’d follow Monet’s lead and join the others in the water. Scarlet laughed as she watched her friends tear down to the sea like children, the white spray flying into the air as they all hit the water at once.

“We’re friends with actual kids,” Yvie laughed, Scarlet nodding in agreement.

“God, we really are,” she smiled affectionately, watching Akeria take a step into the sea then jump back as if it was made of molten lava and not freezing cold water. Just as the girls had left, Scarlet became aware of two sets of footsteps approaching behind them. It was Cracker and Monique, back from the shops with a plastic bag twirling around Monique’s hand.

“Hey,” Scarlet greeted them cheerfully, then added, by way of explanation, “They’ve gone into the sea.”

“Oh, fun!” Cracker beamed. Monique picked up the bottle of cava and rolled her eyes. There was a shot-sized dribble at the bottom.

“You sons of bitches are nothing if not predictable,” she laughed, fishing a brand new bottle out of the plastic bag along with a set of cups. Yvie held her hands out apologetically and Monique shook her head, letting her know all was forgiven. Scarlet looked out to the water again. Bob had Monet on her back and Vanessa was leaping on Brooke’s, Brooke unable to catch her from the amount she was laughing. It looked as if they were about to do some sort of race or fight. Vanessa finally got onto Brooke’s back, her arms looping around her shoulders like a bush baby.

“So. That’s that then,” Monique gave a little sigh as she looked out to sea. Scarlet did a double-take as she looked at her. Her expression was mostly hidden behind her huge mirrored sunglasses, but Scarlet could see the small frown on her face. She knew who her gaze had fallen on. Scarlet felt bad for the girl.

“Hey, don’t take it personally. Vanjie thought you were great, she really did. She told me all the time,” Scarlet said reassuringly, Monique giving her a little smile of gratitude. “You know that way when you’re still hung up on someone you love. That’s all it is.”

Monique rubbed her arms, wrapping them around herself in a hug. “My own damn fault for catchin’ feelings.”

“Happens to the best of us, girl,” Yvie piped up. Cracker smiled at the pair of them gratefully, squeezing Monique’s shoulder supportively.

“We’ve been trying to tell her that.”

Monique laughed suddenly as she saw Silky chasing the girls with a huge, slimy-looking clump of seaweed she’d fished out of the water. The smile remained on her face as her laughter died down and she looked at Scarlet and Yvie inquisitively. “Brooke’s gonna treat her nice, right?”

Scarlet thought about Brooke’s helplessness after her and Akeria’s birthday weekend, her heartbroken confession of love in the toilets of the grubby karaoke bar. She watched how tightly Brooke was holding Vanessa on her back, as if to let go of her would be a crime. Scarlet smiled at Monique. “She will. I know she will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Monique kicked her sandals off and turned to Cracker. “You wanna go paddle?”

“Girl, I thought you’d never ask.”

Scarlet was satisfied staying with Yvie on the sand. They turned to Plastique only to find her napping in her deckchair, her skin beginning to take on an ever-so-slightly pink hue. Deciding to avoid Plastique’s potential wrath if they woke her up, Monique and Cracker dashed down to the ocean to join the other girls. Scarlet sat quietly with Yvie for a moment, taking in the scene of their friends all clowning around in the water.

“You still looking for jobs?” Yvie asked her. Scarlet sighed. She didn’t mind talking about post-uni life with Yvie, didn’t mind being honest about how scared and unsure she was with the person who loved her and she loved back.

“Yeah. It’s hard applying without my classification, though. And, I guess, even harder when you’ve got no idea what the hell you want to do with your life.”

Scarlet gave a self-deprecating laugh which Yvie gently joined in with. Yvie laced her fingers around Scarlet’s and gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, babe. There’s no time pressure on these things.”

“I know. It’s just hard when…hell, you’ve got Monet and Nina about to start their entire careers. I mean they’ll be in charge of a whole class of kids. Akeria knows what she wants to do and she’ll get there. Hell, even if Silky’s classification wasn’t as good as she wanted it, journalism is at least something she wants to go into. And Vanjie’s decided on events management. You know you want to at least do something with criminology,” Scarlet sighed, suddenly feeling so small. “It’s so hard trying to figure out what you want to do with your life when everyone around you seems to know. How the hell are you meant to know yourself?”

“Listen,” Yvie brought her thumb up to stroke Scarlet’s knuckle, calming her instantly by about 80%. “The great thing about your life is that…it’s yours. Nobody else’s. Just yours. Say you decide on a job and you hate it. Do you think you have to stay because the pay’s good and it’s something steady? No! You leave, because you can get another job. You don’t like it? You change. You want to go back to uni to doss about for another year? Do it! There is no rule to life that says you need to live it a certain way. And fuck yes, it’s scary! I’m scared! I don’t know if I’ll like any of the jobs I’m applying for, they could be so different in reality to what they are on paper. But you know I’ll support you whatever you decide.”

Scarlet’s voice was quiet as she watched the waves crash around her friends. “I just don’t want to disappoint my parents.”

“Scarlet, your parents love you unconditionally. And I’ll say it again- it’s your life. Yours. Not theirs. You can do whatever the hell you want to.”

Scarlet nodded, Yvie’s words a small comfort to her in the world that now seemed so big and scary. Yvie’s voice was quieter as she spoke again. “So…you’re going to live back home once all this is over?”

“I guess so. I don’t really want to, but I don’t want to live alone either. And it’ll help me save money, although if I don’t have a job I guess there’s not much money to save,” Scarlet snorted a laugh. She didn’t want to think about any of this, but Yvie was asking her so she gave an honest answer. Scarlet didn’t miss the way her girlfriend fell silent, nodding her head, a sad little frown on her face. She didn’t want to move away from Yvie. She didn’t want to return home. Yvie was her home.

Suddenly there came a splash from the water and Scarlet’s gaze was jolted away from her girlfriend and down to the sea. Silky had somehow fallen into the water and the girls were all howling with mirth as she screeched and tried to splash them all. Scarlet couldn’t help but join in with the laughter as she watched Akeria help fish Silky out of the water, the girl sitting in the wet sand and laughing so loudly that Scarlet could hear it even from farther up the beach. As Scarlet composed herself and her laughter died down, she turned to see Yvie looking at her, a dopey little smile on her face.

“What?” Scarlet laughed, touching her hair self-consciously. Yvie looked down at the sand, then back up to meet her eyes.

“Move in with me. After we graduate.”

Scarlet’s eyes grew suddenly wide in shock. Yvie was still holding her hand and Scarlet’s grip on hers had tightened. “Really?”

Yvie’s face was earnest, and Scarlet could see her gulp as she nodded quickly. She took a little gasp of air before explaining herself. “I mean, we both already basically live together. You’re at mine so often anyway, we know what we’re like to live with. We’ve not spent more than a full week apart since…fuck, I don’t know. I would do long distance for you, Scarlet, but I don’t want to. I want to go to IKEA and build flat pack furniture and make slow cooker casseroles and fucking…pay council tax with you. I hope you don’t…think I’m being too intense. Jesus, we’ve not even been together a year, fuck, sorry, this was a shit idea-”

“Well when you know, you know, right?” Scarlet smiled at her girlfriend, squeezing her hand. Yvie smiled back at her, reassured and happy, and Scarlet could hear the seagulls in the air and the crash of the waves and the laughter of their friends. She wouldn’t have had any other soundtrack to accompany the moment. “Yes. I’m in. Let’s get a flat together. Just the two of us. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life, but I know it’s going to be a lot easier if I’m doing it with you.”

Relieved, Yvie leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her once, twice, three times before pulling away and squeezing her hand. They met each other’s eyes and smiled, breathlessly giggling a little. Deciding to move in together didn’t seem to be the huge, relationship-changing milestone that society had hyped it up to be. It made sense to Scarlet: they loved each other, enjoyed the other’s company, they’d practically lived together for the past however-many-months. Okay, they hadn’t really hit any real speed bumps in their relationship really, but Scarlet trusted Yvie and she trusted herself. They were a team, two puzzle pieces that fit together. Whatever the crazy, scary, mixed-up adult world had in store for them after graduation, they would face it together.

Just then, Scarlet’s phone vibrated. She picked it up from its place underneath a carefully-folded corner of her towel. Opening it and reading the email, her heart dropped.

“Oh my God,” she said, her heart thudding uncontrollably.

“What’s the matter?”

“My classification’s through.”

Scarlet’s fingers were shaking and her palms were sweating as she frantically logged onto the uni’s intranet.

“Breathe. Just breathe. It’ll be fine,” Yvie reassured her, but Scarlet could feel her blood racing in her veins. She didn’t want to look. She did want to look. As the page loaded, she squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing had ever seemed so catastrophically life-defining before. The page loaded, Scarlet blinked, then she screamed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Plastique flinch in her deckchair. Yvie’s face was expectant. Scarlet could hardly get the words out.

“A FIRST, I GOT A FUCKING FIRST!” she screeched, Yvie practically tackling her into the sand as she hugged her. Scarlet felt like her heart was about to burst. The three years had all been worth it and she felt like the biggest weight and worry in the world was finally lifted off of her. This was, admittedly, contrasted with the feeling of Plastique piling herself on top of the two girls, screaming excitedly the whole time. Scarlet suddenly batted them off of her, grabbing their hands and tugging them towards the shore.

“I wanna run into the sea! Can we run into the sea and tell the girls?”

Nodding excitedly, the three friends tore towards the coastline screeching like banshees. Scarlet could feel the wind in her hair, the sun beating down on her, and the sand shifting underneath her feet with every step she took.

She had never felt so conscious of her own mortality and yet as if she could live forever all at once.

[pcssessicn]

☆ . · . miguel bernardeau, twenty-one, male, he / him . · . ☆ fitzwilliam 'fitz' phénix-alvarez lives in that huge mansion over there! no, not that one. look for white stucco walls & terracotta shingles and that’ll be it. the nhl defenseman has offered occasional glimpses of soft yellow walls and an impressive collection of plants in the background of social media posts, but all of that is nothing compared to seeing the opulence in person. they’ve remained protective as ever since moving to tercet court two months ago, but it seems like they might’ve gotten a little more mistrustful too. maybe that’s why they’re rumored to have such a distant relationship with everyone else who lives on this street. ☆ . · . ooc info: ollie, they / them, 21, est . · . ☆ career claim: cale ma/kar.

BASICS

Full name: Fitzwilliam Phénix-Alvarez Nickname: Fitz Birth date: September 29th Languages: English, Spanish, Quebecois Francois Hometown: 

PHYSICAL

Age: 21 Weight: 196 lbs Height: 6′2″ Body build: athletic, lean Eye color: grey-blue Faceclaim: Miguel Bernardeau Glasses or contacts: neither 

Tattoos: a raven in flight over his left shoulder blade, monochromatic vines winding up his left bicep

Scars: most predominantly a thin scar near the base of his neck where a skate slashed him when he was fourteen ; several other smaller scars of less note, especially on his hands --- much less noticeable

PERSONALITY

Good personality traits: observant, calculating, protective Bad personality traits: mistrustful, dishonest, aggressive 

Fitz comes across as very confident and in control, and at ease in his skin. The truth couldn’t be farther from it. He works hard to put forward the easy front he does --- and some days he can’t tell which one is more real. He has a dishonest smile that masquerades as honest, and a tendency to manipulate those around him when necessary to shed suspicion off himself. He can be almost charming at times, at least extremely amiable. Despite all this, Fitz is not rash or impulsive -- in fact everything he does is carefully calculated, though he goes to great lengths so it does not come across as so. The one place he feels truly effortless is on the ice.

He finds it hard to truly allow people close to him and to really see beyond the most superficial layers of himself. Furthermore, there is a deep-seated fear of not being enough and being forgotten ; he finds it easier to not let anyone close so there’s less chance of this happening.

THE STORY ( i rly was gunna try to write this nice and eloquently but... u get this instead 😔 )

— fitz was born to up and coming spanish actress reyna alvarez in chicago. the result of a messy one-night stand, but reyna ultimately decided to keep the baby. he is indeed named after fitzwilliam darcy from pride and prejudice bc his mother’s first breakout role was in a film adaptation of the book and she loved the book after reading it. how unfortunate for him.

— his birth father was never in the picture, but the man he would come to know as his father came into the picture a year or so after his birth. already one of the top architects in north america, paul robert phenix was in chicago for a conference and he and reyna fell in love. fitz has been told it’s was all very romantic. so then the happy family moved to pittsburgh where his father’s architecture firm was based.

— despite growing up with two parents who raked in a fair amount of cash, they made sure nothing was just given to fitz. they’d both had their humble beginnings and big believers in tough love, they made sure not to spoil their son. they did however make sure he was sheltered from the media when it poked around and the two things they did pay for without question were his education and sports.

— he started playing hockey when he was six after seeing a pens game on tv while they were out at dinner and knowing he just had to do it --- and never stopped. he got recruited to the us national team development program when he was sixteen and spent his last two years of high school in michigan living with a billet family most do who are with the program, which gave him a huge sense of “normalcy.” but really he was far from normal, his development taking great steps over those two years leading up to his draft year.

— queue the cale ma/kar career claim lads aka all the hockey development & logistics u can probably skip if u don’t care laksdjf: 

 one year before graduation and a draft, he vocally committed to playing at university of massachusetts - amherst. he went fourth overall to the la kings in the 2017 draft ( yeah technically irl that pick belonged to the avs but sh ), and proceeded to remain loyal to his commitment and play two years at umass despite his new top five prospect status. he was put into a first pair role from the start of his freshman year ( 2017-18 ), was a huge part in bringing the umass team up from the bottom of the standings. he plays for team usa in world juniors 2017 and 2018.

his sophomore year ( 2018-19 ), they make it all the way to the frozen four. fitz gets announced as the hobey baker winner and the day after they get knocked out of the tournament. not long after that he signs his entry contract with the kings and finishes out the season with them. he scores his first nhl goal on his first shot in game 3 of the first round of playoffs irl the kings don’t make playoffs but again shh. they get knocked out in the first round and fitz goes home and trains harder than ever.

he come back to kings training camp the next season ( 2019-20 ) more determined than ever to make the team. he does so out of camp and has an incredible rookie campaign. he gets injured in december and misses a few games but is back mid-january. fitz is given the calder ( award that goes to the best rookie in the nhl ) at the end of the season. technically cale hasn’t won this yet but we all know he will.

— la is a bustling city and fitz is a fan of one night stands : he just doesn’t feel like he has time for a relationship and hookups scratch that itch. he’s not an asshole about it, really. there is typically that understanding that this is a one time, no strings attached thing. but this one girl he sleeps with in march obviously does not get this memo and continues to not get the memo. she starts seriously stalking him in the following months and eventually he gets a restraining order against her ( use ur imagination kids ). he’s not really comfortable staying in his own apartment downtown for the time being though after he still sees her around. he stays with a teammate until the season ends, which then brings us to his connection to tercet court.

— paul robert phenix, now world reknowned architect, had a hand in designing several of the homes on tercet court, including one in the style of old money spanish mediterrianian villas that he designed with his wife in mind to be their new home. fitz’s mother had loved the house and moved in for a few years after the court opened but with her taking fewer roles up in the movie industry and getting exceedingly more lonely, she decided to embrace the more nomadic livestyle of her husband and moved out about a year and a half ago. since then the home stood vacant ( though certainly still cared for by several paid landscapers and maids ) until fitz’s dilemma arose a few months ago.

— a few phone calls and a begrudging agreement to pay the extremely steep taxes on the place for the year ( again, tough love and fitz may be a pro-athlete but he’s still making less than a million a year with his entry level contract ), and fitz moved in about two months ago ( say mid-may ).

MISC

— tri-lingual. father is french-canadian and his mother is spanish. needless to say he grew up a little confused. that worked itself out soon enough though. uses he uses quebois french in-season kind of frequently to talk to a couple teammates. really only uses his spanish to talk to his mother and family.

— since moving in fitz has filled the mansion with plants. he absolutely does not seem like a plant guy but he is... absolutely loves it. his major at umass was kinesology bc he thought it would be the most helpful and knew he wasn’t going to graduate but he snuck in some out-of-major classes on horticulture. truly just likes plants a lot. they don’t judge him.

— probably set up his own puck shooting pad in the backyard. why not there’s enough space. he had to retrieve a couple pucks from the bottom of the pool though which has been good incentive to not miss the net lmao. he also has revamped one of the rooms in the house to have synthetic ice.

— runs in the morning before it gets hot. skates a few days of the week in the afternoon. home gym in the house is definitely a perk but he prefers to work out with others because it feels more productive.

— probably drives like. a range rover.

— offensive defenseman. likes to jump up in the rush and is good at break out passes as well as zone entry. earned his place quarterbacking the first powerplay towards the end of the season. he can be quite physical when he needs to be though and don’t ever go after his goalie. ( his nhl.com player page )

— he’s not a recluse by any means, but he has no desire to built connections in tercet court so probably hasn’t actively reached out. they’re likely to have met outside of the small community or if your character forcibly came and introduced themselves. or if they knew each other already mayhaps??

— oh and he’s bi. like really really bi. obv not advertised given his career path but he’s not having some crisis over it either. it just is. probably has a stack of nda’s next to the condoms ready to go at anytime alsdkfj.

OOC

hey lads. i’m ollie !! for those around for round 1.0 of this rp i played alya ( the sports photog ). i am back and this time going back to what i do best : playing hockey boys 😔😔😔.