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saintobio · 3 years

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sincerely not. (8)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, adultery, neglect, mentions of phobias, mentions of pregnancy, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, explicit smut, some heartaches

notes. 12.8k words. please proceed with proper caution! thanks so much bby risa for beta-ing @rinstars bae you’re my savior &&& @kazbrkker my love, ur reactions in the rough draft were fun to read tysm hhhh anyways enjoy everyone !! :D

series masterlist -> episode nine

Flying to French Polynesia was a disaster.

You knew it even before you actually arrived at Bora Bora while flying through Gojou’s private jet and spending the worst twelve hours of your life imprisoned in an aircraft 35,000 feet from the ground. It wasn’t the jet lag nor the turbulence that made you wish that you didn’t go, it was the two specific passengers inside the plane that caused your silence for the last seven hours since you left Tokyo.

Sera was clearly not informed of your participation in their special getaway because her wide, gaping eyes stared at you questioningly as soon as she saw you coming out of the McLaren before climbing up the jet. In spite of her initial reaction, she was fast to veil her displeasure by sending you a welcoming smile. A smile that feigned innocence lasting for five seconds before she walked past you along the aisle, hand in hand with the husband that placed his wife in the same enclosed space as his mistress.

Satoru had noticed the shift in your emotions for the past week where he wouldn’t stop checking if you were alright and if something was plaguing your mind. He came home from work earlier than he usually did to make sure that you had dinner together, but most of those nights had passed in silence with neither of you having the backbone to address the elephant in the room. No, there was no elephant to blame for your marital quagmire. Just a broken wife trying to study the behavioral patterns of her husband for being affectionate and loving once, then detached and distracted the next. You could not tell him that you had seen him tracking Sera’s cycle on his phone, but you doubted that he would care enough that it shattered your heart to pieces thinking about how actively intimate they have been behind your back. It was already unbearable to see her intimate photos on his phone, but to also see how your husband was constantly monitoring her ovulation was just the absolute zenith of your agony.

Gojou had no idea how much he would completely annihilate your heart and soul if he truly ended up getting his mistress pregnant. Whether that was his intention or not, you could no longer find an excuse to stay with him if it happened.

Why has your marriage turned into shambles in less than a year? What did you do to deserve this mess of a relationship when you have always been genuine from the very beginning?

Despite life’s vicissitudes, you chose to see color in your achromatic world. It was your only way of keeping your positivity because you would rather be a sunshine than a storm. Satoru would have it coming one day, but today just wasn’t it.

You were becoming blasé to his brazen display of infidelity to the point that you were simply letting him do what he wanted without so much of a complaint. It wasn’t a free pass to step on your dignity, rather, a reason to pile up all the dirt that you have received like how a lawyer would gather evidence prior to actioning a case. You weren’t a lawyer for sure, but you could use the same tactic before reacting unreasonably. You had to hold onto your last string of pride in order not to become more pathetic than you already appeared to be.

It was better to pretend that everything was fine instead of showing your weakness in front of him. It was better to avoid his line of sight, choosing to join his best friends in playing a game of cards than be the third wheel in an unlawful relationship that made you the villain.

There was unease in Ieiri’s eyes as she laid down her card, pressing her boysenberry lips together when she glanced at the couple from the farther side of the plane. You couldn’t make out what she was seeing because you were facing her in a seating arrangement that had your back turned against your husband. Getou, who was sitting next to you, could sense the tension when he peeked at what was behind for a split second.

Why, you could ask yourself, did you even come? The question should be: why not? Even if he didn’t admit it, Satoru clearly wanted to make use of you by asking you to join the trip so that no one would suspect him of his true nature as an adulterous 25 year-old man. In return, you wanted to make use of this trip as an ultimatum for your consistency as the perpetually sympathetic wife. This trip would be the deciding factor for you to open your eyes to the downfall of your marriage.

You had become a time bomb—ready to detonate everything else around you with one wrong move.

You didn’t really believe your husband’s words when he said that he wanted to enjoy Bora Bora with you because only a person with thick skin could try to cajole his wife to his advantage. None of this trip was planned for you, but for Sera. Even if he said otherwise.

“Man, I don’t feel too good about this trip,” said Suguru, arranging the deck of cards to play another round of poker with Shoko. You tried to focus on drawing the details of the dress that you were designing until he spoke again. “Feel like something bad’s gonna happen.”

A pensive sigh then escaped your lips as you momentarily looked at the window to see the fuliginous skies. If Getou could sense an omen of things to come, you tried to lift up the mood by offering a smile. “You guys say this is a yearly trip?” you began, putting down your iPad and pen. “How did it all start?”

Ieiri took the chance to answer. “Like maybe four years ago? It’s pretty funny ‘cause it was a last minute thing. We were at a cafe and Gojou was joking about flying to Bora Bora right after he saw the advertisement on a pamphlet,” she reminisced the memory with glee in her eyes, “then Suguru dared him to take us there, and that motherfucker really did! We didn’t even get to pack anything—he made us ride the PJ on the same day with nothing but our passports.”

“I remember that day. He’s a bit of a show off, isn’t he?” Getou grinned at you and Ieiri.

You tell me. It seemed that Satoru could always make things happen if he wanted to. “The first time sounds really fun and spontaneous,” you claimed, drinking from the glass of wine on your table. “Satoru spoils the people that he loves.”

With that being said, he loved his best friends as much as he loved Sera. They were the only ones he would willingly spend a fortune to just to guarantee their happiness. Unfortunately, the man didn’t include you in his personal guest list of the people that he genuinely loved. Regardless of the fact that you were his wife, you were already aware that he would never willingly spend time with you. Iceland was out of the question because that whole honeymoon trip was simply obligatory for him.

“Aww. Well, I know he’ll spoil you.” Shoko's statement was laced with an iota of pity. “Satoru’s just… if you give him some time.”

You had given enough, but there was a limit to everything. You could offer your whole universe and there still wouldn’t be a remedy to your failed marriage. How pathetic. For a moment, your eyes dropped down to the gold band around your finger and remembered that Satoru strangely wore his ring when you left the penthouse. What act was he trying to pull this time?

And within the next twenty minutes that passed, you happened to have seen your husband when you went out of the lavatory for a quick bathroom break. He was in a detached recliner seat, draped in a blanket with his arms tightly wrapped around Sera as they slept soundly through the flight. The sight brought a lingering sting to your heart and made you stagnant for a moment as you walked slowly past the aisle. You tried to ignore the gnawing ache that burned your chest until Satoru opened his eyes to see you the first thing.

“Y/N.” His call forced you to halt from your footsteps. Sera shifted from his embrace, eyes still shut as she snuggled on the crook of his neck. Satoru had a minute of panic that bathed in his eyes when he realized that your name unknowingly flew out of his mouth and now he was pretending that he actually forgot what he called you for. “Where are you sitting?”

You kept a stolid mien for your own sake. “With your friends.” Because my own husband chose to neglect his wife for his mistress.

Why did it even matter to him? Did he want you to sit with him and Sera so you could watch how caring and affectionate he was to her? Did he want you to juxtapose yourself from previously being on the receiving end of his skinship and now on the far side of it?

Before you knew it, your feet already carried you away while his eyes followed your trail as you continued walking, making a desperate attempt to avoid him by going back to where Shoko and Suguru were. The two friends had visible empathy on their faces when they looked at you knowing that you saw your husband and his mistress entangled on each other.

But for your sanity, you didn’t succumb to your weak feelings. “I’m back,” you put on your mask of cheerfulness.

Ieiri moved from her seat to give you space and it was too obvious not to notice how she was admiring your ability to remain strong in a situation where you should be broken. “Y/N, can I see your new designs? Mai would have geeked over them.”

“I was actually designing a new one for her and Maki,” you shared, grabbing your iPad and browsing through your collection. “I’m planning to have the dresses made when we get back to Japan then I’ll ask Toji to give it—” Shoot.

The last thing you should have done was to mention the man.

“Toji? As in Toji Zen’in?” Getou’s narrow eyes became surprisingly round. “You’re close with him?”

You let out an awkward laugh. “Kinda, but not really. He knows Gen pretty well, though.”

Suguru smirked in good humor. “Damn. Satoru’s not gonna be happy.”

Ieiri countered the guy’s words by voicing her own thoughts. “He’s literally playing house with Sera. Who cares if he isn’t happy?” You were surprised when she suddenly pulled both of your hands on top of the table and squeezed it in comfort. “Tell me honestly, how do you feel about this whole cheating thing?”

You held your breath. It was hard for you to open up because your marriage was a private affair, something that you wished for no one else to pry into. If only Shoko’s eyes weren’t filled with genuine concern, you wouldn’t have given her an honest answer. “I’m not happy with it,” you stated the obvious, following the slow rise and fall of your chest. “I’m just letting this happen because I have hopes that it’ll end someday.”

Getou looked down as if he was burdened with shame. “He really doesn’t deserve you, huh…”

“Y/N.” Ieiri leaned closer to gaze straight into your orbs. “End their affair after this trip. Don’t let it drag for too long. Satoru’s my friend, but I can’t stand what he’s doing. You should claim your right as his wife and fight for him.”

You opened your mouth to say something because you highly appreciated her encouragement for you to uphold your position as the lawful wife, but then no words have left your lips after you remembered why everything ended up this way in the first place.

Because of this arranged marriage, Satoru had to marry another woman instead of the one that he loved. He wasn’t willing to let her go nor was she ready to free him from her grasp. This was all your fault, he said. Pay the repercussions, he said. You’re already blessed with everything you can ask for, she said.

What else was left for your self-worth?

With it being your first time in Bora Bora, it was expected for you to be in complete awe when you arrived at the destination. You couldn’t express much of your appreciation towards the beautiful islets due to the situation relating to your husband and his mistress, but your eyes still wandered around the place to admire God’s craft in creating such a paradise on Earth. Being here alone was already a testament to how many gorgeous places were yet to be explored.

“Wow,” you gasped with great admiration, turning your head from left to right as you took slow strides on the elevated walkway. For what Bora Bora was renowned for, there were bungalows perched over the crystal waters on stilts—a peaceful haven with floating thatched-roof villas above the clear sea in varying hues of blue, perfect for couples in a romantic honeymoon to enjoy their first stages of marriage.

The warm breeze and the smell of fresh ocean greeted your nose, tempting you to jump on the waters to bask under the sun. But then you remembered who you were with on this trip after getting momentarily lost and distracted from the luxurious oasis through the summer heat. As you turned around, you saw Gojou intertwining his hand with Sera’s as she smiled at him while gushing about how much she missed the place. You could see how his eyes coruscated with love at the sight of her radiant face as though she was the only one who could make him as happy as he was now.

Satoru’s affections were only evanescent when it came to you. Sera was and would always be the recipient of his permanent love.

You had to force yourself to look away knowing that it would only add more wounds to your heart—grateful that Shoko looped her arm around yours with Suguru standing on your other side. “You guys,” you swallowed your weakness back in by plastering a smile, “this island is stunning.”

“Right?” Ieiri adjusted her sun hat and nudged you on the rib. “Should we go scuba diving?”

“Jet skiing is better.” You weren’t expecting Satoru to chime in as he and Sera stopped in front of you like a newlywed couple who couldn’t get enough of each other. And while he was holding another woman’s hand, his vivid cerulean eyes lingered on you as he spoke again. “Ever tried it before?”

You didn’t answer him. You refused to. Instead, you looked at Suguru and pointed towards the parasail from a distance. “Look, it’s what you and Shoko were talking about on the plane.”

The tension was real when you ignored your husband, but Ieiri and Getou saved the awkward air by entertaining you, although you certainly didn’t miss the glances that they traded with the white-haired man. It was Satoru’s best man who put a friendly arm around your shoulder and continued the walk with you. “You should try parasailing with us,” Getou encouraged, orbs hidden from the crescents of his eyes.

You would love to join them, but the thought of ending up submerged underwater in the vastness of the ocean was too terrifying. “I don’t think I can—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Gojou? Welcome to the InterContinental.”

Instinctively, you turned around to face the owner of the voice only to see the man—who looked like the owner of the luxury hotel—was talking to Satoru and Sera as the apparent married couple. You tried to suppress the bitter scoff that almost passed through your lips because it surely sent tiny pricks to your chest to see Sera being mistaken as the wife.

However, instead of correcting the man, Sera got the confidence to tighten her hold on your husband’s arm so she could lean her head against him. “It’s nice to be back.”

“Well, I’d congratulate Mr. Gojou for marrying such a gorgeous wife,” the man complimented her, which earned you glances from Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. All except for Sera who beamed from the flattering remarks that should have been for you. “We’ve prepared the largest villa and the rooms are all ready as well. Please enjoy your stay. If you need anything, our staff will be more than happy to help.”

This was a painful slap to your face and you didn’t want to stay another second enduring it all. You haven’t even spent an hour in Bora Bora and you were already emotionally battered from everything that you’ve had to stomach thus far. You could only imagine how bad things would be for the next two days and this might end up leaving a huge scar on you, even worse than the Iceland trip which was the pinnacle of Satoru’s journey to putting you in your place.

You were already storming out before any of them made a move because you wanted nothing else but to lock yourself in a room and stay away from Gojou for the rest of the trip. You ignored Ieiri’s calls when you rushed inside the villa, claiming one of the four bedrooms and placing your duffel on the bed before you sat on the edge of it with a frustrated sigh. It was truly insulting to see your own husband not denying when another woman was mistaken as his wife, but what did you expect, really? He dreamed of having Sera as his wife for God knows how long. You already fooled yourself that one morning thinking that your recent lovemaking was a sign of progress to your relationship, that his drunken admissions and childhood reminiscences were improving your marriage—you hated that you fell for it when here he was now allowing Sera to take your spot as his wife.

There was no need to sugarcoat this. You were simply a placeholder for his true love.

You get it. This trip was all about her and you were just expected to be in the background all throughout. In that case, why did Satoru follow you inside your room? Why did he leave his stuff in your bed, crouching down to look at your face with worry-filled eyes?

Did he want to share a room with you because it was an obligation? Well, no one was watching for him to still keep up with his stupid act.

“You know I had no choice,” he tried to explain, placing his hands atop yours, “She was looking forward to the trip and I couldn’t tell her that it’s not right for her to come anymore.”

You gulped and pushed his hand away without sparing him a glance. “Why are you explaining things to me? Didn’t you wanna spend time with her, anyway?”

His bullshit was tiring. You knew for a fact that he could care less if Sera came because he would rather spend his sweet time with her, always have and always would. Unlike your honeymoon in Iceland where he was lackadaisical for ninety percent of the trip, he was actually more enthusiastic about this one because his romantic adventures were always better with Sera. He didn’t need to say it for you to put the puzzle pieces together.

Satoru fixed his composure, sliding his dark sunglasses out of his face as he tried to appear impassive. “Because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he asserted, arms caged on either side of your thighs, “and you’ve been so cold to me for the past week for no reason. What’s your problem?”

The audacity of this man. He would tell you not to get the wrong idea for ‘unintentionally inviting his mistress’ but would also shamelessly parade her around while treating her like a queen.

With this in mind, you erupted into a soft but spiteful laugh. “Does that even matter? You can do what you want. I’ll stay out of your way since I know my boundaries. I’m just here to save your image.”

“Y/N—”

Remembering the words he said during your time in Iceland, you returned it back. “Let me rest.” You pushed his arm away, climbing into your bed and turning your back on him. “I need some sleep.”

You already had your eyes closed when you heard his exasperated huff and you were left with a hollow heart when he slammed the door shut as if it was heavily frustrating for him that you were becoming detached and defiant. Satoru seemed to have always hated it when you rejected his presence because he had grown accustomed to you being his patient wife who showered him with affection despite his bare minimum treatment. The sweet and caring wife that would wake up at six-thirty in the morning every day just to prepare his breakfast and business attire. The wife that would leave post-it notes on the fridge with the words: Eat some fruit, drink water, and start your day with a smile :)

Yes. You wouldn’t deny how stupid you were for trying to make your marriage work. Because every time you believed that you had already built a strong wall against Satoru, he would always find a way to destroy it. And you would always find a way to let him in, forgiving him for his never-ending games.

You knew that you would always be standing by his side when he needed you, but since he didn’t seem to require much of your presence with Sera around, you might as well learn to distance yourself for now.

By ‘distancing yourself’, you meant sleeping for the next four hours to recover from your lassitude. You figured that it was better to shut yourself out instead of summoning your masochistic side when the pain was so deadly you might as well be buried six feet under. No one bothered you during your slumber because the villa was silent when you woke up again. The room needed more lighting as the sun was finally closing down by the time you opened your eyes. It was eventide, you realized.

When you regained the strength and motivation to get up from bed, you could tell that Ieiri and Getou might have toured around with Sera and Gojou while you were fast asleep in your room. They had fun on their own while you chose to be alone and only now did you have the chance to take a leisurely meander through the extensive walkway that connected all the overwater bungalows which were what Bora Bora was famous for.

The cool wind rippled the surface of the sea, creating waves and soothing sounds that enabled your mind to relax as you found your spot on one corner, overlooking the horizon of twilight skies in blue and gold where the clouds began to glow with colors at nautical dusk. You marveled at the spectacular mixture of colors as the wind that blew your hair back, listening to the soft sound of the crashing waves that made a painting come to life.

You had to appreciate Earth’s beauty and how grateful you were to be in a privileged position that gave you the chance to see such astounding views that you wouldn’t see on a typical day.

Perhaps, in an alternate universe, your husband had his arms wrapped around your waist as you two watched the sunset on this romantic hour. Maybe you were happy in that universe, having your spouse whisperering I love you’s in your ear, telling you that you were the only woman in his eyes and that he was happy to have married you.

“It must be tough chasing after a man who doesn’t love you.”

The serenity that you’ve found from the susurration of the sea was cut short as you turned around to see the Camilla of your Charles. Eyes as brown as the color of her hair, lips limned with a mulberry tint like the color that stained your husband’s neck. The upward tug of her lips was her attempt to show the lack of malice in her words.

“I can’t believe you’re torturing yourself for coming with us. But honestly, I respect and admire your resilience,” she added, clutching the diamond pendant on her necklace as she stood next to you. “I can understand you have all the time in the world to try and chase after his love since you have nothing going on for you. You’re not busy like the rest of us. All you do is sit at home like a princess and wait for him while he’s in his office spending most of his day with me.”

You wondered how Sera could look so sincere and innocent while throwing knives for sentences in between. It was plain obvious that she was still absurdly angry at you for sleeping with Satoru after she came to the penthouse that morning and your recent appearance in the office seemed to have fueled more of her vexation. But because you weren’t ill-bred, you didn’t lunge on her and ripped her throat out for saying all those mean things. Your best choice was to retaliate with your own words.

“Not as tough as constantly hiding your relationship because you don’t wanna be labeled as the mistress when that’s really what you are,” you told her, and there was shock that lingered in her eyes until you continued with a smile. “In everyone’s eyes, no one cares about who’s the first love. People care about who’s the one that they married.”

Sera’s smile was nonetheless to veil her growing ire. “Don’t get carried away. Your marriage is loveless. I don’t want you to keep hurting yourself when you know he feels miserable with you.”

When Ieiri told you to end their affair and stake your claim as the rightful wife, you already imagined that a confrontation with Sera could finally do the job. You thought that you could stand on your ground and hold your chin up high because that was how it was supposed to be, and yet with her simple utterance of the fact that Gojou was miserable with you, you lost all of your will to fight for him.

You couldn’t fight for someone who never wanted to be with you in the first place.

“I really like you as a person, Y/N.” She released a sigh, averting her eyes to gaze at the sun disappearing below the horizon. “You’re kind and soft-spoken. It’s your status and selfishness that I don’t like.”

With a still breath, you spoke through gritted teeth. “Selfish?” A humorless laugh followed. It was unbelievable how you were seen as ‘selfish’ when you’ve been willingly allowing her to sneak around with your husband after she literally begged for it.

“You get everything you want ‘cause you’ve been spoiled that way,” she pointed out. “Meanwhile, I have to work hard to get to where I am. I have to endure rude bosses, render overtime even on holidays, and strictly calculate my savings and budget for my family. You don’t understand how hard life is for people like us. Satoru is the only blessing I’ve received in life, so I’ll never let him go.”

You didn’t know what to say in this situation because you couldn’t exactly comment about her hardships in life. Even if you tried to defend yourself and tell her that problems in life came in different forms, you knew that she would still make it all about her. Everything was about her struggles and hardships, never about your agony and suffering.

However, the conversation did lead you to trespass a topic that had been bugging you to no end. “You say you’ll never let him go. Does that mean you’re still waiting around for him even when he’s married?” you questioned in utter disbelief. “You don’t care if you end up pregnant someday when he’s legally bound to his wife?”

Instead of answering you directly, she countered you with a question. “Are you scared that I’d get pregnant before you do?”

Your heart raced. Anger? Hurt? You couldn’t tell which one weighed more. So the two of them aren’t really doing it safe, you assumed in your head, taking a deep breath before you could explode.

A pitiful look appeared on her small, delicate face. “Just know that if I end up having his kid…” she paused before she shifted on her feet to take her leave, “…I’d end up having him, too.”

Gojou knew he could be insensitive sometimes—or most times—but he was being true when he said that he wasn’t intentionally doing it. He was all over Sera since the trip began because that was how things were before you came to the picture. Him, Sera, and his friends on a getaway. He held her hand, kissed her, and spent time with her because they were boyfriend and girlfriend before he ever married you.

With all the aforementioned, it was quite odd that he was feeling incredibly guilty for simply doing what he usually did. It wasn’t like you even screamed at his face calling him a cheater for having Sera around. You were pretty lenient about them so he couldn’t understand why he was the one who was bothered by your lack of resistance to his actions. Satoru despised how you would ignore him because he was getting more and more confused by how he felt.

To boost his stupidity even more, he never should have allowed Sera to join in the first place. This trip should have been just you, him, and his best friends. If he was going to spend time with Sera, then he could have just taken her without dragging you along to avoid all the tension that was surrounding you now. Maybe Satoru could have had more guts to explain that to Sera even if she wouldn’t be too happy to hear it.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, loosening the knot on his robe as he walked outside to find some peace of mind on the villa’s elevated pool area.

Suguru joined him as the man sat on one of the sun loungers with a cigarette between his lips. “You two-timing fucker,” he bluntly quipped, seemingly finding humor in Satoru’s dilemma. “How does it feel to have your wife and mistress in the same house?”

Gojou looked up at the blanket of stars. “Sera’s not a mistress,” he corrected, then added, “and Y/N isn’t even saying anything.”

There was a knowing glint in Getou’s eyes. “Just because she isn’t saying anything doesn’t mean it’s all okay to her.”

“Man. What do you want me to do?” He wasn’t exactly snapping. It just frustrated him how he didn’t know how to handle the situation without hurting the other. “I do wanna spend more time with my wife, but Sera expects me to be with her 24/7 because this is our only chance to freely be together.”

Suguru tossed the cigarette to the wooden floor and killed the ember by stomping his foot on it. “Listen to yourself,” he commanded. “Now Sera’s becoming an obligation for you and Y/N isn’t. You can’t have both. This situation isn’t livable.”

Did Gojou really sound that way? He couldn’t even clear out his statement because he got distracted when he saw you heading towards your room with a heavy frown on your face, determined to lock yourself again until Shoko blocked your way.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you’re gonna stay in bed again?” Ieiri’s voice was loud enough for the two gentlemen to hear. “Let’s chill outside for a while!”

Satoru could hear how his best friend snorted under his breath when he saw the look on Gojou’s face and just how tempted he was at trying to talk to his wife. Confusion clouded his head as he completely froze when Ieiri dragged you to the pool area and urged you to take your place near your husband.

“We went kayaking while you were sleeping. You should have been with us,” said Ieiri, now lighting her own cigarette as you stood at a reasonable distance from Gojou. He pulled you close by wrapping an arm around your waist, but you were fast to stop his wrist before you moved to sit next to Suguru instead.

What the hell?

And throughout your subtle disregard for Satoru, Getou was only finding the situation even more humorous. “You have to join us tomorrow, Y/N,” the best friend insisted. “Can’t miss out on all the fun activities.”

“I prefer sightseeing, really,” you admitted, then revealing why you couldn’t exactly join. “I have Thalassophobia.”

Shoko seemed intrigued. “Wait, like fear of water?”

“You’re not afraid of water. You swim at our pool back home.” Satoru walked towards the mini bar to grab a bottle of Macallan, pouring himself a glass before leaning against the rattan table.

You dismissed their assumptions, although you were gearing towards speaking to Getou and Ieiri more than your husband. “No, it’s fear of what lurks beneath its surface. It’s the deep bodies of water that scares me the most, like… if my feet can’t touch the ground, I’d tremble. I have wild imaginations on what creatures could be under me.”

Ieiri tilted her head in curiosity. “That’s so interesting. I didn’t know people have that kind of phobia.”

“Nah, I think it’s common,” Suguru asserted while leaning on the cushion behind him. “There are so many types of phobias that we don’t even know of. Someone could even invent Gojouphobia one day.”

The man of honorable mention simply shook his head. “Very funny.” Although he must admit, it was the first time he had seen you chuckling in a while and it brought some ease to his heart to see you smiling again.

For the whole conversation, Satoru just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes away from you. His blue orbs were glued on your face, watching the way you pressed your lips together or the way your eyelids fluttered with every blink. At one point, he had to clear his throat just to distract himself, “You weren’t that scared when you took a swim in the blue lagoon.”

Even if he was trying to converse with you, you were still adamant on not meeting his gaze. “Don’t you fucking bring up Iceland.”

It seemed that mentioning Iceland was a trigger for you and Satoru didn’t realize how upsetting the whole trip must have been that you were avoiding any reminiscence about your honeymoon. Had he been too mean to you back then? The marriage was fresh and Gojou was full of bitterness at the time—he must not have realized how harsh he had treated you.

Because of the uncomfortable silence, Shoko took the chance to change the topic. “I swear to God, I almost lost my diamond earring when Suguru pushed me to the ocean—”

“Alright, Kim K. There’s people that are dying,” Getou mocked, only to receive a ball of tissue thrown to his face.

“Shut up!”

“Make me.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Gojou sniggered at the two. “I think he is.”

And in the middle of their banter, Satoru had almost forgotten about Sera until she came out of the room in a similar robe like what he was wearing, joining the rest of you at the poolside on this starry evening. “Hey, guys.”

You didn’t even acknowledge her with a fake smile the way Shoko and Suguru did.

“Hey, Sera.” Ieiri shifted into an awkward stance and Gojou could read through her body language that Sera made her uncomfortable. “Where’ve you been?”

“Just took a quick shower.” Sera didn’t hesitate in keeping Satoru enveloped within her arms, clinging onto his torso as if to claim him in front of everyone. There was no ounce of shame when she tiptoed to peck his lips and leaned her head against his toned chest. She did it before, she did it many times prior to this trip, but why did Gojou feel strangely hurt when he saw how you sunk back to your seat and looked away? “Satoru promised we’ll spend the night at the jacuzzi.”

You let out a humorless laugh, gazing at the floor. “That’s really romantic.”

The sarcasm that laced your voice made Satoru hold his breath. What was he supposed to say?

“It really is,” cooed Sera, snuggling closer to feel his warmth. Utter silence dominated amongst the soft sound of the splashing waves. The luminescent moon stared at all five of you with great interest because there was nothing more interesting than to see a dramatic scene unfolding between the husband, the wife, and the mistress. Since when did Gojou’s life turn into a movie?

“I’m exhausted, I’ll call it a night,” you announced, taking the initiative to get up and leave. Not once did you try to meet Satoru’s gaze. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Your exit gained Suguru and Shoko’s “me too” and “me three” as they also made a haste move to leave the couple alone. It was only 9PM and Gojou was sure as hell that none of his two best friends would have decided to go to bed this early if it wasn’t for the guilt that would eat them if they stayed.

Confrontations were not in your repertoire, but Satoru believed that it would have been better to receive your brutal words than to see you completely avoiding his existence like he was as invisible as air.

“Hey.” The knit on Sera’s brows recollected Satoru back to his reality—with her. She would never allow him to think of anyone else but her this time. “The night is ours.”

He didn’t want to break his promise and he tried his utmost best to give one hundred percent of his focus to the woman that he loved, especially now that he had the chance to be all alone with her. This was what he wanted and he had to remind himself of that. While he should’ve uninvited Sera, this was still the perfect chance to spend a romantic getaway with her at one of the most beautiful islands in the world. If the opportunity was there presenting itself, who was he to completely disregard it?

He wanted Sera, not you. He wanted all of her, not even a little bit of you. Satoru needed to wake up and refrain from allowing his mind to fly to the wife that he supposedly hated.

He should be having fun since it was relaxing to sit in a hot jacuzzi surrounded by vanilla-scented candles and rose petals. It was the perfect honeymoon for newlyweds, something that he could have done with you in Iceland instead of the bullshit he pulled back there that permanently left a scar on you.

Sighing, he leaned against the tub and waited for Sera to come back just as he received a notification from his phone. Without a second to spare, he grabbed the gadget that was placed at the edge of the tub and checked what the alert was about.

Day of Ovulation - High Chance of Pregnancy Today

But you just had yours a week ago, right? Gojou was well aware of your cycle because he would often check your phone to look at it. He didn’t even remember installing the app on his phone, so he had no single idea why it was even in there. Did he perhaps do it while he was drunk?

Somehow, his question was answered when he clicked on the notification and saw the label “Sera’s Cycle” written on top. The wideness of his eyes was solely because of his realization that this damn app might have been one of the reasons why you had veen cold to him.

“Sorry it took me so long.” Sera cut him out of his trance when she returned, quickly apologizing for her momentary absence. “I was trying to look for a nice swimsuit but couldn’t pick one.”

Satoru chose not to beat around the bush when he faced her. “Did you put your period tracker on my phone?”

By watching her emotions intently, he was able to see the look of panic that bathed her eyes before she gathered an honest response. “Yeah, since you’ve been acting all weird about the condom thing last time so I put it on there,” she explained, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Why? Did she see and complain about it?”

Fuck. Gojou needed to calm himself down because his head was boiling just like the foam that bubbled in the jetted-tub. “No, she didn’t say anything but she’s mad at me about it.”

“So, what?” Sera’s irritation grew while she undid the knot on her robe, revealing her stark naked body in front of him without any scintilla of shyness in her bones. Oh. Satoru breathed deeply and eyed every curve that was of ample proportions. “Why does it matter so much to you if she’s mad?”

She was already climbing in the tub, crawling forward to straddle the man’s lap who now had his large hands on her buttocks. He tried to look at her eyes instead of her busty chest. “I just don’t like how she’s giving me the cold shoulder. What if… our fathers’ notice?”

Bullshit. Sera rolled her eyes because she could see the pretentious lies hidden in his words. “Remember what you said to me back in your car?” The woman pressed her bare chest against his toned ones, feathering kisses along his jaw until her breath fanned his thin but plump lips as they brushed. “You said she doesn’t have you.”

“Mhm.” Gojou kneaded her bum.

“So stick by it,” now those words held more persuasion as her chocolate orbs pierced through his diamond blues. “It’s not like you’re gonna stay with her after you get what you need.” Right. You were merely a tool for his ascendancy in the company. Sera was the one who put him back on the right track. “And isn’t it weird enough that you’ve been trying so hard but still couldn’t get her pregnant? Maybe she’s… you know.”

Satoru pulled away to read her expression. “She’s what?” His wife couldn’t be infertile. No. Maybe he wasn’t really just doing it right? Maybe you just need to do it more intimately?

His other woman leaned back and moved her hair to the side in a manner that seduced him of his deepest desires. The palms that gripped her ass were now tracing her curves, reaching to cup her breasts so he could massage the rounded mass. He attached his mouth on the right side of her neck as she arched her back and released her dulcet moans.

“M-Maybe she’s n-not meant to have your baby,” she rasped, grabbing a fistful of white hair. “It’s been a while since we did this, Satoru.”

He hummed, closing his eyes and moving his mouth to kiss her shoulder blades. Despite Sera’s overflowing sultriness, Gojou’s carnal desires were no longer meeting her own. His ardor was no longer at the same level as hers. The emotional connection was no longer present and this was something that he had been afraid of for the longest time.

Afraid that when he started doing it with someone he married, he would lose the same passion for Sera.

If he was true to himself, she could not satiate his needs the same way you would. Sex was different, regardless of the labels, when it was with someone he shared vows with. With you, he could be intimate without worrying about the consequences of pregnancy because you were meant to have his child either way. With Sera, he had to hold back and use contraceptives because it would be a huge scandal if he knocked her up.

He didn’t realize that he stopped Sera’s hand from touching his clothed cock underwater, pulling her wrist before he made a move to get out of the jetted-tub. “Sera, I’m too exhausted,” he made an excuse, “let’s just go to bed.”

Satoru could imagine smoke coming out of her nose with how frustrated she was. “Just tell me. Am I not pretty enough for you?”

Grabbing her robe and stepping out of the tub, she sheathed herself with the cloth and let her glossy eyes afflict him with his guilt. After all, he could go weak on his knees for her.

“No, of course you are. I just don’t wanna do half-assed things with you.” Gojou was fast to deny. “Sera, you’re the prettiest woman in my eyes.”

Her face was rigid and her eyes were lachrymose. “Then say it to her.”

Huh? He brushed a hand on her arm. “Sera—”

“Say it straight to her face how I’m the prettiest in your eyes and that you’ll only ever love me,” she spat, stomping away after adding, “If you don’t do it, you might as well forget about me.”

Gojou hated being given ultimatums because it was putting him on the spot to make decisions without much thought. Sera was well aware of how much he disliked being demanded to do things out of his will, but like the asshole he was, he couldn’t lose her. That was what his mind was telling him.

He was plagued with these deep thoughts even as he joined Sera later that night when they slept in the same bed. This morning, he took his stuff to your bedroom because it became an instinct for him to stay in the same room as you. However, it was Sera who pulled him away telling him how ridiculous he was for even thinking that he should bother staying with you when no one was watching.

The problem was, Satoru couldn’t sleep. At all.

Sera’s warm body held him in a tight embrace as she peacefully submitted to her slumber, but Gojou couldn’t get even a wink of sleep because he knew that he would end up waking up in the middle of the night with how bad his nightmares were getting. This has happened more than once where he couldn’t get himself to reach the stages of REM when he slept next to Sera or anyone else for that matter. Heck, a paradoxical sleep was even more far-fetched when he was alone.

Because of his reasons, he quietly got out of bed at 3AM, tucking Sera under the duvet before he left the room only to transfer to the one on the opposite side.

To you, where he twisted the doorknob as quietly as he could and saw you sleeping in a cute fetal position, allowing him to smoothly slip into bed and wrap his arms around you. You were not awake to feel his warmth, but he was certainly feeling the level of comfort that he needed to finally doze off knowing that you were at arms length away lest he needed your presence to soothe him from his unpleasant dreams.

Getou would have snorted at his face for the ‘two-timing fucker’ that he was, but Gojou couldn’t care less. He didn’t understand what it was like to be caught in such a position.

When you woke up to see Satoru sleeping next to you, you felt disgusted.

Only because you knew what he had done in the other room with his mistress. You knew that they were doing it without any regard for the wife that he met at the altar with vows that he couldn’t fulfill. Why exactly was he even bothering to sleep in the same bed with you? For show? For whatever act he was putting on? You were tired of it.

So instead of waking him up with small kisses on his cheek, you simply rushed out of bed and spent the next thirty-minutes eating breakfast with Suguru and Shoko. Just after exchanging a few conversations about the plans that they had for the day, they then prepared while you ended up having a relaxing time for yourself, basking under the sun as you lay down on one of the sun loungers by the pool in your beige bikini. The view offered a gorgeous landscape of the clear turquoise seas and you knew that you just had to snap a quick photo to post on Instagram.

The picture included half of your glistening body in a sun-lounger overlooking the waters of Bora Bora with the caption: “pov: you’re in a tropical paradise 🏖”. The post quickly garnered likes and comments, especially one from Gen telling you to have a good time and that she was so jealous.

Have a good time? You wished. None of these people lurking in your Instagram knew that you weren’t actually having a great time. Worst of all, they weren’t aware that this trip included your husband's mistress.

On the other hand, you were surprised to see Toji’s comment that it had you chuckling out loud. It was no more than a playful message with an airplane emoji that wrote, ‘✈️ off to paradise’. You didn’t even know that he was following your account until now so you had to click the follow button real quick while stalking his Instagram. There wasn’t anything much to see except some pictures of him and his son traveling around the world. It was clear how much time he had placed to bond with Megumi despite his demanding life as a CEO, making it one of the things that you admire about him—his dedication as a businessman and as a single father.

Your day was going good, but it just had to be ruined when Gojou appeared on your side, taking a seat on the sun lounger adjacent to yours as he grabbed the bottle of sunscreen on your thigh. In an instant, you placed your phone down and looked at him. “Why are you here?”

“Why not?” His response was laced with insouciance. Your husband rubbed the lotion on his arms, protecting himself from the damage that the sun could leave on his fair skin.

“You should be with Sera,” you replied before removing your sunglasses, getting up to leave until he towered over you. At once, the man was unbuttoning his top and holding your wrist simultaneously. “What are you doing?”

A sigh left his lips. “Swimming with you,” he said, then tossing his shirt onto the seat. “Come on. You said you’re scared of the ocean so I’ll swim with you.”

“Satoru, you don’t一”

There was not even a chance for you to resist because the man already carried you in his arms as you flailed when he walked towards the edge of the platform, climbing down the stairs and submerging both of you under the cool waters of the Bora Bora seas. The anxiety that coursed through your entire body made you wrap your legs around his waist because you couldn’t think of anything else but to try and get yourself to the surface.

“Hey, hey. Relax,” he reassured, caging you around his arm and allowing you to put your arms around his neck. “The water’s clear. No sharks here.”

The water was deeper than you could reach for sure, but since your husband was six foot tall, he was able to walk around. “B-Bring me back to the villa.”

Your muffled pleas were ignored when he swam further into the ocean, now floating from beneath his feet all while pressing his lips into your ear. “Give me a kiss and I will.”

You couldn’t deny that the request gave you a rush of dopamine, forcing your stomach to do somersaults because when Satoru was being sweet and affectionate, it was normally easy for you to give in. However, you have already learned not to let him intoxicate you with meaningless affection.

“No,” you rejected his offer, glaring at his ocean eyes that were of the same hue as the skies and seas alike.

There was a haze of frustration in his eyes before he did it upon himself to lean in and encase your lips around his, moving to lock them in a soft but passionate kiss. The movements of his mouth were in harmony to yours despite your initial refusal to let him plant even the quickest peck. Truth was, his kisses lessened your anxiety because it distracted you from your fear towards the deep bodies of water.

The feeling of his tongue rolling against yours, swirling around just as you breathed through each other’s mouth could have been enough to suffice the week's worth of resentment that you had towards him.

In the end, Gojou knew how to soften your heart.

“Still don’t wanna kiss me now?” He pulled away with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but that cocky visage was immediately replaced by his troubled expression. “We need to talk.”

About what? You clung onto his shoulders and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

He was your personal buoy in the vastness of the ocean and he knew that the dependency that you had for him now would soon reflect your relationship beyond the high seas. Satoru only wanted you to realize that you needed him just as much as he needed you. “My phone, I know you saw some things in there,” he opened up, treading water to stay afloat. “It’s not what you think. Sera and I haven’t done it since一”

“Stop,” you interrupted before he could finish his sentence. There was pain in your voice, pain that you concealed with ersatz indifference. “I don’t wanna hear what you two are doing. You’re disgusting.”

He was insane for thinking that it was okay for him to talk about his sex life with his mistress. Sometimes you wondered if Satoru’s obliviousness when it came to hurting your feelings was actually intentional. He hated you after all. That, or he was plain stupid.

“I’m just saying,” he defended, pressing his lips on your shoulder. “If that’s what upsets you, then…”

“...Then maybe don’t give me mixed signals?” you said, chest vibrating against his. “Maybe don’t confuse me with your affection because we both know you’re just acting? Didn’t you say that I would never be her? That it’s not cheating when I never had your heart in the first place?”

Your husband was at a loss of words. And you? You moved out of his grip regardless of the fear that consumed you when you rapidly swam your way to the ladder, climbing back into the villa and wrapping yourself with a towel to leave the man who incessantly called for your name.

“Y/N!”

You came across Sera about halfway into the bungalow, but ignored her presence by heading straight to Getou and Ieiri. The two had no idea about the cold exchange that you’ve just had with your husband一all they knew was that you were joining them for their itinerary of having lunch at Bloody Mary’s and going on a jet ski adventure throughout the afternoon.

“You ready?” Suguru asked when he saw you scrambling to put on a sundress on top of your bikini.

“Yeah,” you answered, glancing at Sera and Gojou who just reunited when he attempted to chase after you. He didn’t need to, not when his mistress was there to entertain him now. “Can it just be three of us?”

Your question must have sounded spiteful and Shoko clearly didn’t approve of how you were letting your husband have some private time with his lover, but based on your countenance, she supported your decision. “Sure, Y/N.” Ieiri turned to Gojou and Sera with a smile. “We’ll leave you guys for a while.”

Satoru couldn’t even enjoy this trip because all he did was to overthink about the shit that he was unknowingly doing to hurt you. It was too much for a person to absorb, but he tried to lay down the issues in his head so he could figure it all out. For starters, you were opening up about your displease towards his actions more and more these days as if you were on the brink of falling apart. In contrast to that was Gojou feeling less and less angry with you for the things that he normally would find irritating. He used to antagonize you for being clingy, now he couldn’t last a day without any form of interaction with you. He used to forget everything around him when there was Sera, but now his eyes were constantly searching for you.

He thought that all the sharp words that he once sputtered towards you were left forgotten at the back of your mind, which was why he was in complete discombobulation when you were reciting every single hurtful word that he ever said to you. How did you even remember his words back in Iceland? It seemed as if everything, since the very beginning of your marriage, had remarkably etched into your soul and inflicted you with great sorrow.

For hours, he couldn’t do anything but to check his phone to get his mind out of his ennui and Sera was growing deeply annoyed that he wasn’t very keen of doing their supposed snorkeling activity because he refused to leave the villa.

It was funny how he should be thankful that you had given him some time alone with Sera, but here he was displeased about it. What was going through his head? He needed some clarity.

When the sun was at least two hours shy from setting, Gojou headed to your room to find his charger as he scrolled through his phone. The first thing he did was to check the recent photos he had taken, sliding his thumb down to review all the other images that he was keeping in his album and realized that one particular photo was absent.

His bum fell at the edge of the mattress as he frantically searched all the other photo albums to find the only photo he had of you.

Sera’s appearance by the door could not even distract him from removing the crease between his eyebrows. “Satoru, are we not gonna—”

“Did you delete her photo?” he snapped, looking up to see her wide confused eyes. “First you installed that period tracker, now you deleted her photo.”

She was livid. His accusatory eyes brought a surge of ill feelings when she stepped in and denied his claims. “Why the hell would I delete her stupid photo?”

He huffed, feeling a fit of pique but choosing to let it go. “Forget it,” throwing his phone on the mattress, he collapsed against the cushion and stared at the ceiling. “What do you wanna do today?”

Wasn’t it too late to ask?

Somehow, while he was busy gazing up at the nipa palm leaves that decorated the roof of your bedroom, he heard a clutter of things falling onto the floor and he realized that it was your makeup bag that Sera had accidentally bumped into.

“What’s that?” he asked, propping himself with his elbows as she crouched down, blinking twice in the same second before erupting into a scoff.

“You say you had a hard time making a baby?” She stood straight with a mirthless smile, showing a blister of birth control pills in her hand that made Satoru sit up in confusion. “She’s taking pills.”

He snatched the blister pack that he almost crushed in his shaking hand as he clenched his jaws at the newfound information. There was nothing else to feel but fire. Fire of the worst kind, fire that would soon erupt into unforgiving flames that would burn you without an ounce of mercy.

“She really just wanted to ruin us, Satoru.”

You didn’t think that this day could be any better since it started awfully when your husband almost ruined it this morning. Fortunately, his two best friends were your saving grace that allowed you to enjoy the rest of the day even without his presence. You went on a decadent lunch at Bloody Mary’s, had a fun jet ski ride behind Ieiri, and also spent the afternoon heat sunbathing at the beach. The image did not leave your mind—the waves crashing onto the shore, snaking rivulets of water onto the pristine white sand, sun-bleached crystals burning the feet, the resplendent stretch of palm trees that gave the beach a tropical landscape.

Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who didn’t love you.

In the words of Ieiri, ‘either win him or lose him’. You were at a point where you could choose the latter because your kindness was nearing its limit. If he was choosing his mistress over you, notwithstanding the prior relations that they’ve had before your marriage, then it was futile to patiently wait for the day that they would end their affair.

Because God knows Satoru would never let her go.

At least you were opening your eyes to the truth. At least you were seeing some light to the darkness that enshrouded you. Taking a stroll on the walkway, it was cathartic to finally be alone in this late afternoon as you left Ieiri and Getou who both went scuba diving. You were fine walking alone by yourself, simply appreciating all of Bora Bora before you leave for Japan tomorrow.

In the middle of your peaceful walk, however, the six foot tall man with the mess of ivory hair and vivid cerulean eyes came stomping down your path with a scowl on his pretty face. He was shooting daggers with the way he glared at you and you could strangely sense an impending doom when he stopped in his tracks—no trace of benevolence in his stance.

You tried to hide the confusion that befuddled your already mish-mash of a brain. “Satoru—”

“You’re so fucking desperate, are you?” His voice was rough and hostile, glaring at you as if he wanted to destroy you then and there. Before you could ask what he meant, he showed your birth control pills that he had already crumpled in his hand, rendering you speechless and static from where you stood. No, this can’t be… “What, you’re still gonna deny it?”

Guilt and tremor swallowed you. “I-I just couldn’t tell you at the right time.”

He was laughing, and it was a feral laugh that scared you even more. Minus the hands that were shaking in vexation, he was clearly seething inside. “You’re so fucking pathetic,” he spat out words laced with venom, “Did you plan to keep fooling me just so I’d have sex with you, huh? ‘Cause no one else would do it with you so you have to ruin me and Sera? You’re just so delusional, are you?”

Your hand almost flew to his face before you even realized what you did. The amalgam of pain, anger, and resentment was now being released from your bottle of emotions as you burst out crying. “H-How dare you! How fucking dare you say that to me!” You punched his chest with your fist as tears kept flooding your eyes, cascading down to your cheeks like waterfall. You could barely breathe from the tightness in your chest, you could barely see from the tears that blurred your vision. “Y-You don’t know what I have to endure just by staying with an asshole like you!”

“You deserve it,” he gritted, holding your wrist as you tried another failed attempt to swing your trembling fist on his chest. It was painful. Everything was painful. You knew he never regarded you as a real wife, but to tell you that you deserved every bit of agony was beyond heartless. Merciless. But even in your sobbing state, he didn’t hold back, “Why’d you hide that you don’t want a baby, then? You’re so scared that I’d stop fucking you?”

Unbelievable. Truly, painfully unbelievable. “You decided upon yourself that you wanted a baby without asking me!” Yelling at his face allowed you to release more tears. The searing ache that burned your skin was fatal to your heart, because at this point, your chest pains were only getting worse. “You want—you want a baby because it was your promise when you were six? Are you insane? You made vows with me on our wedding day and you already broke them! What m-makes you think I’d hold onto your meaningless childhood promises?”

While his nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes were now mirroring the pain in yours. You knew not to believe that he was hurt because Satoru Gojou was no more than a spineless soul. “Don’t say that I—”

“No, you don’t get to talk!” You pushed him despite the heavy flow of tears that gushed out of your eyes. Your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen as you weeped, but none of it stopped you from reaching your breaking point. Your husband could see it. He could see that you were about to explode in the most gut-wrenching sight possible. “Y-You… I hate you! You never t-try to see what it’s like for m-me! It’s always about you and Sera, always a-about your happiness and hers… What about me? When do I ever get to free myself from this pain? I’m so tired of having to keep it together for the sake of this marriage! Did you really wanna s-subject my child into the same pain that you were putting me through?” You took a momentary pause so you could allow yourself to breathe, flooded by the overwhelming amount of tears that you were releasing. “I don’t want my kid to grow up with a father that doesn’t value his own marriage! You’re so fucking selfish, you know? You’re so… It’s the first time I ever decided for myself, to not carry your child because I know that I won’t be able to stomach seeing my own flesh and blood growing up in the same household as you did!”

The minute of hesitation that went through Gojou’s mind was his slightest form of sympathy. He might have realized how you’ve been feeling all this time now that you were willingly spitting out words into his face, but for the most part, he didn’t say anything to defend himself. He only grabbed your arm, confusion contorting on his face because he wasn’t sure whether he should keep up with his anger or he should feel bad for hurting you.

Knowing Satoru, he would end up choosing the former. “I never wanted this marriage.”

“And nor did I!” Perhaps you have gone unhinged, but you were emitting tearful laughs while you sobbed. “You said I ruined it for you,” you began, “Don’t you think you ruined it for me, too? Don’t you think I wanted a happy marriage with a husband that loves me, cares for me, and treats me with respect? You disrespected me, took all of my firsts, and made fun of me! You made me feel like a mistress in my own home! I wanted a marriage that would make me happy!”

“Then why did you marry me in the first place!” he growled, loud and vehement. “It’s your fault for thinking that this goddamn marriage could ever work because it never will!”

You knew those facts. You knew that the marriage was never bound to work when his eyes were already all set on someone else. When his decision was already made up before you came into the picture. But what you didn’t and could never agree on was how he was putting the blame solely on your shoulders. “Stop making it seem like I placed you at gunpoint to marry me, Satoru!” you pushed him off and got out of his strong hold. “It’s a good thing that I’m not in love with you. It’s easier for me to leave because I don’t love you enough to stay! Maybe this is why your mom left you, and you know what? I’m glad that she did—”

“What did you say?” Gojou, disquieted by his rage, took a step closer with his clenched jaws and balled fists.

You didn’t mean that. You didn’t mean those stupid words that came out of your mouth because you saw the shock and outrage that flashed before your husband’s widened eyes. The way he held his breath was a sign of how his blood blazed with fire at your decision to bring up his mother because of all the things that you could spitefully say, hurting him with his past was the last thing you wanted.

“S-Satoru, I’m sorry—” Your eyes grew horrified, utterly stunned by the words that you said. You tried to reach for his arm but he was fast to swat it away, “I-I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

The next thing he did was what wrecked you the most because the man had no ounce of sympathy when he slid off his wedding ring and hurled it into the ocean.

“Satoru—!”

You couldn’t believe that he did that, but more importantly, you couldn’t accept how easy it was for him to throw your whole marriage away because you were never once accepted in his heart. In his life. In his soul.

“You wanna leave, then fucking leave. I don’t give a fuck anymore.” It was the last thing that your husband could say before he left you sobbing on your knees with a sore heart and tightened chest. You had to endure watching his figure fading slowly into view as you weeped and struggled to breathe, wanting to stop the pain that only heightened now that you were alone.

Alone was all you would ever be.

But seeing the ring on your finger, remembering how much you valued your marriage all while knowing that it didn’t mean anything much to your spouse, you didn’t think twice about jumping into the shallow waters of the sea. Your whole body quivered with the intensity of your fear, but you continued swimming to the same direction of where he threw the ring because, for your sanity, you had to find it.

You had to do everything to search for it—even if your eyes could barely discern the view underwater, even if the squeezing pain in your heart left you no room to breathe—you were determined to look for his wedding ring in exchange for the torment that destroyed your soul.

Unfortunately, you weren’t as physically capable as the emotional martyr that you believed you were. Because in the midst of swimming deeply into the sea, you were losing air to breathe and you were going farther from the light above the surface. The water blocked out any other noise from up above and you were a minute close to fainting until your body was pulled back with desperate force.

No, it wasn’t your husband. It was Getou who dragged your body out of the water and carried you back into the surface while you gasped and cried your heart out. Ieiri was right there to embrace you in her arms as you buried your face into her chest, bawling and clutching your chest with your inability to breathe. “Th-The ring. P-Please,” your muffled sobs couldn’t be stopped, “It h-hurts.”

“Shh. It’s okay,” Ieiri’s voice broke for you, especially when your hand violently trembled because not even them could save you from the agony that drowned you inside. “Getou’s gonna find it, I promise.”

You couldn’t see the look on their faces because your eyes were falling heavily, but you could feel Suguru’s large hand soothing your back to ease your cries. “Y/N, I’ll search for it. It’s okay.”

I wanna die. You lost the will to carry on because you were at the apex of your pain—the summit of your agony that you could no longer proceed with life knowing that it was never bound to be better. I should just die.

Ironically, it was the last bit of memory that you could remember before the darkness temporarily shut you out from the universe’s never-ending cruelty.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

To say that he was frustrated was an understatement.

The level of anger that entered his entire body after he heard your hurtful words surpassed the twenty-five years worth of rancor that he had for his father.

Gojou wanted to hurt you, ruin you, do everything he can to spite you.

Who the fuck were you to say that he deserved to be abandoned by his mother?

It was his ill-feelings that led him back to Sera’s room, pushing her against the wall, and slamming his lips against hers for a harsh kiss. There was no passion, only roughness in his actions. Sera mistook his rage for eagerness because she allowed him to pull her hair and deepen the kiss, shoving his tongue inside her mouth that there was not enough breathing space for them both.

And at some point, he had her completely stripped off in bed. He had her in a position where her ass was up high and her face was down low. He wasn’t thinking right when he rammed his unprotected cock inside of her cunt, fucking her raw and earning her loudest mewls to cry out from his hard thrusts.

He held her hips close to his crotch as he jostled her body from the back, penetrating her core with low grunts leaving his lips while he spent the next few minutes remembering how you mentioned that you didn’t love him enough to stay and how you didn’t want him to be the father of your child.

Good for you, he laughed in his head because he was pissed. He was too clouded by wrath that he was treating Sera like a whore, rutting his hardened cock into her with forceful movements that made her knees shake.

“S-Satoru—!” Her whimpers were sensual albeit the lack of intimacy on his part. “J-Just like that!”

Fuck. Fuck, he wanted to break you. He thought of all the possible things he could do just to make you regret what you said. And if it was to have sex with Sera without any caution for a possible baby that could grow in her womb after this, he would do it.

Or at least, he was only consumed by spite when he did do it. He already released thick ropes of cum when he woke up to his senses and realized what he had done, immediately pulling himself out of Sera’s cunt to ejaculate the rest of his seed out of her.

What the hell was he thinking?!

Underneath him was a smiling and panting Sera who wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to kiss his lips softly. “I love you.”

He wasn’t in the right mind to respond, and it was a terrible time for Getou to slam his fist on the door, demanding his best friend to get out.

“Get the fuck outta there, Satoru!”

Sera was dumbfounded at the scene, especially when her boyfriend was scrambling to put his pants on before he rushed out of the room.

Suguru’s eyes were filled with disgust when Gojou walked out, only to be grabbed by his shirt as his best friend violently shook the tiniest trace of guilt that was left inside of him.

“How can you behave this way in front of your wife?!” Getou yelling at his face wasn’t new, what was new was the reason why he was screaming at him. “I only tolerated you because you asked for my help, not because I support all the shit that you’re doing! I didn’t wanna meddle into your business ‘cause it’s not my marriage, but I can’t stand this anymore.”

Satoru raked his fingers through his white hair in frustration. “I’m in a tough spot!”

Getou was certainly not buying his excuses anymore. “You’re becoming like the person you hate the most,” he claimed, and Gojou was shaking his head in absolute denial. “Just leave her if you can’t love her. She deserves better.”

His wife. What did Satoru just do to his wife back there?

“Wh-Where’s she—where’s Y/N?” He was becoming frantic as he remembered how much you cried after he left. Only now did his conscience tug at him regretfully.

“She passed out from crying.” Suguru let out a sigh of exasperation. “Ieiri doesn’t want you anywhere near Y/N.”

“But—”

“Don’t push it,” his best friend couldn’t even look him in the eye. “You already lost her.”

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#gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #tw.cheating

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Text

The Instructor - Part 3

Summary: Agent Walker starts your training.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 3.2k

Warnings: smut, oral sex (m receiving), rough, fluff?

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 4

Part 3

The plane trip to DC was largely uneventful, for which you were grateful. You didn’t exactly have a fear of flying, you were only scared of crashing. You handled your fear well, except during turbulence.

The flight was smooth, barring one pocket of turbulence. You gasped as the plane dropped in the air and your heart leapt in your chest and you gripped the armrests. Agent Walker was in deep concentration, reading from his laptop. Without taking his eyes off the screen he, uncurled your death grip with warm, gentle fingers, and placed your hand on his thigh before covering it with his. The plane dropped again and your nails dug into his hard muscles. You felt him tense under your touch, sucking in a breath between his teeth, and gave your hand a light squeeze.

You released your pressure on his leg after a few moments of calm air, and removed it altogether after a few minutes. Walker gave a small, dissatisfied grunt when you pulled your hand away. You put your hand back, slipping it under his and were rewarded with a content hum. You left your hand there until you landed.

Now, after disembarking the plane, not a word passes between you and Walker as you follow him out of the airport and into a waiting car. He doesn’t introduce you to the driver, so you follow his lead and stay quiet. You pull up to a standard apartment building in the city, surrounded by other nondescript apartments. You both get out and enter the building as the driver leaves. You shadow Walker into the elevator where he pressed the 9thfloor. The elevator pings as it arrives at the desired level and again you wordlessly follow Walker to an apartment door where he produces a key and lets you in.

He drops his bag on the dining table and you do the same. You stand awkwardly, waiting for him to speak. Is this the room where surveillance would be set up? Is this his room? Your room? Would you be sharing the space?

A door opens and a woman in her late thirties came out. Attractive, well dressed in stylish navy pants and jacket with a knitted sweater, she had the air of confidence you have come to associate with field agents. She looks you up and down, getting your measure, probing for weakness in the same way Walker had on that first day of training. Learning from your mistake, when she meets your eyes you hold her dominant gaze.

She must have approved because she smirks and asks Walker, “Is this Agent New Girl?”

Walker raises an eyebrow and tells her your name.

She scrunches her nose up and says, “I like New Girl better.” She sticks her hand out and says, “I’m Thomas.”

You force a smile and say, “Nice to meet you, Agent Thomas.”

She laughed as we shake hands and says, “Come on, New Girl. We have months of boring listening and watching to do, just call me Thomas.”

Walker picks up his bag, and looking at you he says, “I’m in 907.” He looks at his watch. He continues, completely deadpan, “You’re on duty from six am. Be at my room by four am for a thorough briefing before you start. I suggest you sleep, it’ll be a rough start if you don’t.”

Your façade crumbles at his words and you bite your lip to supress the moan coming from your throat. The first words directed at you in hours were orders laced in seduction, a suggestive reminder of the power he had over you, both professionally and personally. The subtle undertones of his speech, the words he wanted to say were: “Sleep, my pet. You will need it.”

Alone with Thomas, you school your features as you face her. She has a knowing smirk, and although you’re embarrassed, she is light hearted. “Don’t worry New Girl, he has that effect on everyone.”

You allow a giggle to pass your lips, you had to laugh, to ease the tension in your body. Then you stop, curious. With burning cheeks, you play up the New Girl persona and ask, “Should I be worried?” You emphasise your innocence, but hide your desire by asking, “Will he, you know, take advantage?”

Thomas burst with laughter. You look at your feet, hoping the modesty ruse works. “Nah, he’s not like that. He’s hot as fuck, but cold as ice.”

No, you wanted to tell her, he’s not cold. He’s warm, but has locked that part of himself down. You remember the burning kiss he gave you as you left your apartment, there was nothing cold in that. But you also remember the way he pulled away from your touch when your fingers sunk into his hair. No, he wasn’t cold, he was shut down.

“Well, that’s a relief,” you say to Thomas. “Where do I sleep?”

Your alarm wakes you at 3.30 am. You had slept but it was fitful. You woke several times, once so aroused you thought you may have gotten your period you were so wet with anticipation.

You shower, dress, before going to his room, and hope Walker will offer you a coffee at some stage. You knock on his door, and pray your knees don’t give out.

He answers the door in pyjama pants. You see his chest for the first time, and you can’t help staring. You knew he was impressively built, but somehow his finely tailored suits hid his true size. His chest was covered in dark curly hair, and you wanted to sink your fingers into his fur. Would it be soft or coarse? Would it tickle your nose as you kissed him there? Would he allow you kiss him?

His face doesn’t give anything away as he greets you simply with a nod and says, “Agent.” Standing aside from the door, he lets you in with a gruff, “You’re early.”

You mumble an apology, and hear the door close behind you as you enter his apartment. You stand with your head down, waiting. You feel Walker’s breath on your neck and register the heat from his body as he moves behind you. You don’t know how long you stand there, but you don’t move, you wait, wait for him to say something, do something, anything.

“Did you read all of the report I sent you?” He says into your ear. He is closer than you thought he was, his unshaven lip tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Yes,” you reply, breathless as Walkers body presses into yours. You feel his hand wrap possessively around your throat, lifting your head. His other hand comes over your shoulder, sliding down your chest and into the top of your shirt.

“That’s my good girl,” Walker praises you. “We will have more time for your training,” he says as he slips his huge hand into your bra, cupping your breasts, feeling their weight, digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

You’re confused by his words, you don’t need any more training, not for this case anyway. It was a simple surveillance with express orders not to engage. One of the simplest field assignments you could get. You’re about to ask why you would need training when you feel his lips brush your neck and hear him sniff at your skin and hair.

“I like the perfume you use,” he smells you again and you feel him press himself into your back. “Keep using it, I will add it to the rules.”

At first the words wash over you as you melt under his kisses and hands. His soft warm mouth plays with your neck while his rough hand grips your throat and kneads your breasts.

“Wait,” you try to say, your thoughts are dreamlike under his touch, you’re not sure if you understand him. “Training? Rules?” you mumble.

Walker grunts, “You’re mine, aren’t you, pet? My girl needs rules to know how to behave.” Walker’s hand on your throat tightens and he bites into your flesh, “You want to please me, don’t you?”

Your body shudders, your heart’s rhythm becomes a faltering mess. Fear and excitement grow in your gut. You nod frantically, your voice is unreliable, you don’t trust yourself not to beg for him. If just the implication of his dominance makes you feel this way, you can’t imagine what it would actually be like under his control, under his rules, under his instruction.

Walker lets you go and makes his way to his dining table where his coffee and breakfast is laid out. He sits, his legs spread wide on his chair, the flimsy material of his pants, leave nothing to the imagination as you see the outline of his nearly fully erect cock. He studies you a moment, and says, “Take your clothes off, leave your underwear, stockings and heels.”

Taken aback you bite your lip a moment, and Walker tutted at your hesitation. Not wanting to annoy him further you take off your jacket, button up shirt and skirt. “Good girl,” Walker’s smooth baritone crooned with a gentle roll of the r. Your body warms and heat fills your wet core, both from the praise and the way his eyes ravish you. Then he taps one of his knees. “Sit,” he orders. Not wanting to be admonished for hesitating you go to him and perch yourself on his thigh, your legs resting between his. He wraps an arm around your waist, bouncing you slightly on his knee while he pulls you close. His chest is warm against your naked arm and his curly hair is soft as it rubs against your skin. You want to snuggle into him, but you resist and sit up straight.

“Did you eat before you came to see me?” Walker asks. You shake your head. Once again, he is disappointed. “No more skipping meals pet, you need your strength.”

“Sorry, Walker,” you say. You hated disappointing him, it upset you in a way you couldn’t describe, like it wasn’t just that he wasn’t happy, it was that you wanted to make him happy and any time you didn’t made you feel inadequate.

“When we are alone, I am August or Sir,” he tells you. With a grin he says, “Daddy, if you’re being playful.”

“Yes, Sir,” you reply, your brows furrow in confusion. August and Sir you understood, but Daddy? Usually, Daddy was for a softer Dom, and you hadn’t expected that from him. You knew he had a warmth in him, but you didn’t realise he knew he had it too.

“Don’t let me fool you, pet. I won’t accept bratty behaviour, I enjoy giving punishment. But, do what I want and I can be generous.” He leans over his breakfast and cuts a piece of egg and bacon off and brings the fork to your lips. “Open,” he says.

August alternates between the two of you, feeding you a mouthful then himself. He shares his drink with you too, although you usually like cream in yours, you drink his black unsweetened coffee when he lifts the glass to your lips.

You’re surprised at how turned on you are by sharing this moment with him. It’s almost a glimpse into a life with him, a life where you lived together, had normal lives, maybe even married. You wanted none of those things before, but sitting on August’s knee, having him feed you, you wanted it.

When you were both finished, August glances at his watch. His lips draw into a tight line and you worry you had done something else to disappoint him. Then he looks and you, his eyes on your breasts then moving down your body, mapping you with his eyes. His hand moves between your knees, pushing them apart until he can see your covered slit. You close your eyes, embarrassed, knowing what he would see. He doesn’t comment on the wet patch on your underwear, but you hear a small groan which makes your already throbbing core ache.

“Open your eyes, pet.” August orders. You open them and his bright blue orbs burn into you and you notice for the first time, the brown spot covering the top of his eye. It was as if he came with a warning label, there is a dark spot within him, but his darkness was as beautiful to you as the rest of him.

You lick your lips, your urge to kiss him is strong, you want to show him you want him. The flick of your tongue calls August’s attention away from your eyes and he studies your lips. Your lips part, you lick them again in a silent plea to him, the anticipation too much.

With a nearly indiscernible throat clear August says, “Get up.” His voice is deep and throaty and leaves no room for argument. He guides you to his bedroom and pushes you to your knees in front of him. “If you’re going to offer me your tongue, pet. I will take it.”

August reaches into his pants and pulls out his rapidly hardening cock. He tugs it a few times, you watched rapt as his huge hands twist over his head and down over his broad shaft. You moan as you watch him grow harder, the sight of him holding himself while looking at you is too much. You want to feel him in your mouth, make him feel good, pull from him the reward of his groans and his seed. He looks down at you with blazing azure eyes, and a menacing curl on his lip. His free hand grips your hair, guiding you to him. Without being asked you open your mouth.

There is no gentleness in August now. He presses you deep onto his cock, forcing himself into you until you gag and your stomach heaves. He pulls your head away as tears well in your eyes. “Beautiful,” he whispers.

Forcing you on him again, he fucks your mouth. Thrusting himself into you while pulling your head onto him, you fall into a daze. You keep your jaw open, trying to keep your teeth away from him, your lips fold over your teeth. The bruising action of his pumping cock cause your teeth to press painfully on your fleshy lips and you can feel them swelling. You can’t see August anymore, your sight is too blurry from your tears, but you can hear him. You can hear the grunts as he punishes your mouth, the breathy ‘fuck’ he moans as he uses you and you know you would let him do almost anything to hear him react like that.

His rhythm starts to falter and you prepare yourself for his orgasm, excited to know how he tastes. But he doesn’t, he pulls your hair back so your face pointed up to his, his lips are pulled back, his teeth bared, he sucks in breath which whistles through his teeth. You know he is close.

“Keep your mouth open,” he growls through his clenched teeth. He pumps himself now, and you want to watch but he forces you to look at his face. You watch his eye brows raise and his mouth open as his orgasm hits and the deep guttural cry of his release is followed swiftly by the thick ropes of his seed painting your waiting tongue. His pulse is uncontrolled as he decorates your lips, cheeks and chin.

A long rolling shudder moves over his body and he lets out a content moan. It was one of the single most erotic things you had ever seen. He puffs out a breath and smirks at you. You can’t help but smile back, he appears so relaxed now, almost happy. You’ve never seen him happy.

He tilts his head as he uses his fingers to gather this cum onto his fingers and feeds it you. You eagerly lick his fingers clean with a moan, you feel so proud that you have made him happy. When he has finished feeding you for the second time that morning, he tucks himself in his pants and checks the time. He pulls the covers back and gets into bed, patting the spot next to him, indicating you should join him with a flick of his head.

Sliding your shoes off, you slip in beside him, he lays your head on him stroking your hair a while. You press your ear to his chest and listen to his slowing heart rate, its low reverberation almost lulling you back to sleep. He doesn’t say anything for a long time and when he does speak you are surprised by his question. “Why did you join the CIA? The real reason, not the one in your file.”

Your heart skips a beat. Does he know? Is it his way of telling me? You think for a while, not sure of how to answer. “My aunt was an Agent. She went missing ten years ago. I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps. I wanted to know what happened to her.”

Your reply was an act of trust, the answer could get you thrown out of the Agency. You weren’t supposed to want to know things that were above your security clearance. Wanting to know something was dangerous. If the CIA thought you should know, they will tell you, otherwise, ask no questions.

August just hums and doesn’t ask anything else. For a few more minutes you lay on his chest, until he says, “Time to clean up, Pet and get to work.”

You moan and push your face into his chest, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “I don’t want to, August.”

“If you’re going to whine when it’s time to go, then perhaps we won’t be able to do this again tonight.” His threat gets you out of bed. You are sure August doesn’t make a threat he isn’t prepared to go through with. “Good choice, Pet. I admit, this morning was a little selfish, but tonight we will have longer.” He promises. You go to his bathroom, wash your face and when you return you find your clothes laid on your bed with a black velvet box sitting on top.

Curious, you dress first then sitting on the now made bed you open it to find a discreet day collar. It was gold and was a simple rigid, thin ring shape that required a special hex key to open and close.

“Will you wear it?” August’s voice came from the doorway. Stunned you look from the collar to him and back to the collar. You don’t know what to say. It was pretty and wouldn’t warrant comment, but you still worried about it. Glancing at August again, you couldn’t say no. Wearing his collar, having a sign of his ownership was something you hadn’t dreamed he would want. But you realised how wrong you were, when August owned you, he wanted all of you and wanted you to know it.

“Yes,” you say and take him the box. He opens it and places it around your neck, and you hear the mechanism click in place.

August’s eyes dance as he kisses your swollen and bruised lips. “Now you really are mine, Pet.”

Part 4

Tag List:

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #mission impossible fallout #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother. He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin. angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are. i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia so i blame her. as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes. fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao 🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy! feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you!

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word. Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no. He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon. Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second. Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since. Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line. Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin. He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter. Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension. All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever. Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime. You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most. You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch. Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows. It takes a moment to gather your surroundings. You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there. As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time. 5:34 pm. Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix. How had you fallen asleep for five hours? How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it. You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles. Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung. Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each. Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.” He pushes past you and into the living room.

Your mouth gapes open. Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this. Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure. “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff. “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam? What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado. “Obviously not anymore. We broke up, she kept the apartment. Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps? You clear your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen. “No, you’re not.”

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother. He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat. The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn. Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone. You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon. It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever. What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping. God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on. I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone. “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night. It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple. Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom. The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room. You’re not getting out of this. I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon. Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed. “I agree to your terms. Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time. 6:40. God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready. There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already? We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table. He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement. “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower. That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds. We’ll be waiting awhile.”

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants. You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage. Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.” Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face. “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face. Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening. You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth. Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone. And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin. You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas. He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.” Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory. Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other. Feels like old times. Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room. The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life. Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv. Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.

Why did he do it? You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning. Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off. He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing. Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now. Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again. While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow. You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep. If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved. But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems. You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught. You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable. You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day. Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol. Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. A nightcap. Of course. You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house. You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate. It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge. You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house. You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile. Liquid sleep. And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder. Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired. “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls. The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.

“Fucking help me! You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything. You did that on your own.” Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent. He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?” You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him. It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you. “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there. You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush. He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks. “We talked about that. Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own. He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.” His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle. “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan. “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth. He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more. His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs. You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused. His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure. He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free. Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.” He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts. You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime. You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.” Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut. Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.” His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat. You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his. Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life. You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet. My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you. Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!” You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.” He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you. He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix. This is surely what heaven feels like. It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity. He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung! You! Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks. He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises. “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”

“Yeah baby, cum for me. Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down. Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry. You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words. You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please. Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.” You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash. He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY! Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

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prettiestvulcan · 3 years

Text

pairing: enji todoroki x oc

rating: explicit

wc:

summary: a summer getaway gets heated, in more ways than one.

warnings: none

a/n: part of @delirieum's hot milf summer collab!

She’s always had a dislike for summer. The sticky, humid heat. The influx of tourists, which meant more crime. The increase in her number of patrols. Summer meant more work in near unbearable conditions.

There is one plus to summer, though. It means the kids are out of school, so she gets to spend more time with them. Sure, during the day she’s always on patrol, but then she gets to pick them up from her parents’ house and take them to pick out dinner. They don’t have to be in bed for school, so she can introduce them to her favorite childhood movies.

This summer is different, though. Her parents are taking their grandkids on a vacation and she can’t go with them. Work is having their own week-long mandatory ‘vacation’, which involves flying out to an island for team-building exercises disguised as fun. It’s the first time the agency has done something like this, but her guess as to why is as good as anyone else’s.

“Mommy, do you have to go?” Her youngest asks. She kneels before him, giving him a soft smile.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but mommy has to go because of work.” He pouts, crossing his arms with a frown.

“I don’t want you to go.” Isaac looks close to tears. “I don’t want to go with Nanny and Pappy. I want to go with Mommy.”

“Isaac,” she brushes tears from his cheeks with a thumb. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Mommy will be back. And I’ll call every night before bedtime.”

“Promise?” He sniffles. She nods, holding out her pinky. He grins, wrapping his much smaller pinky around hers.

“I pinky-promise,” she answers. His tears have started to dry up.

“Okay,” he finally relents. “I’ll go with Nanny and Pappy.”

“That’s my boy,” she ruffles his hair, the curls catching occasionally. He doesn’t seem to notice.

He runs off towards the front door, giggling the whole way. She stands, watching him go with a smile. He’s always been a cheerful kid, willing to do as she asks. She’s grateful for it. However, her eldest isn’t as agreeable. Perhaps being close to ten, she’s just going through a face. She was a fussy baby, though, so something tells her she just takes too much after her father.

“Why do I have to go?” Hazel starts. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

“Hazel,” she reproaches. “I don’t have time to find you a babysitter. Nanny and Pappy already agreed to take you somewhere fun.”

“Ugh,” she groans. “Whatever, mom.” Hazel storms off without another word. She frowns, watching her go. If only there was some way she could make both of them happy. She hadn’t lied, though; the trip for work was very sudden and she didn’t have time to look for a babysitter. It was only through luck that her parents had agreed to take them on vacation with them this year. Perhaps because they were both old enough not to need as much supervision and constant care.

With a sigh, she grabs her suitcase once more and climbs into the taxi. She really wishes she could have given Hazel a goodbye hug, but she knows her daughter well enough to know that wouldn’t have gone down easily. There would have been a lot of yelling and pushing, possibly some kicking. She really hopes Hazel doesn’t regret not saying goodbye.

The taxi drops her off outside the entrance of the airport. She takes her suitcase from the trunk before heading inside. The layout is huge, but everything is clearly marked and mapped. She has no issues finding the check-in for the airline. Finding the gate is even easier, since each gate is in a specific order. She sits down to wait for their boarding time, taking her phone out to make sure there are no calls or texts from her parents. Thankfully, there are none so everything must be alright.

She decides to look around the area from her seat, spotting several familiar faces in the seats around her. They all seem absorbed in their own activities, so she leaves them be. She was never really familiar with any of the other sidekicks, anyway. Being a single parent meant she didn’t have much time for get-togethers, so she was always turning down invites after patrols. They’re always friendly towards her, however, so she thinks they’re all on good terms. They probably understand her hesitance to leave her kids at home with the babysitter longer than needed.

After a while, it’s time to board the plane. It’s her first time flying since before Isaac was born, but she still remembers the drill. Show your boarding pass, get it scanned, find your seat. It’s very straightforward. Everything about the trip so far has been, which is something she’s grateful for. She’s not a huge fan of surprises. Never has been. Although she supposes Isaac and Hazel are two surprises she absolutely couldn’t live without.

Soon, the pre-flight announcements are beginning. She’s surprised to see no one in the seat beside her. It’s nearly a full plane, though she’s not going to complain. It just means she has more room to stretch out. She listens to the pre-flight announcements, turning off her phone as instructed. She takes her in-flight bag off the floor, putting it in the empty seat beside her. She couldn’t quite reach the overhead bin and had been too embarrassed to ask for help.

The plane takes off, bringing with it a slew of emotions. She’s excited to be going somewhere, even if it’s for work, but she’s going to miss her kids. Not being able to see them for an entire week? It’s an entirely new experience for her. She’s been home with them basically since they were each born. She’s been there to kiss ouchies better, to read them stories before bed, tuck them in with a kiss on their foreheads. She’s been there to wipe their tears, to make them smile and laugh. Being away from them will be a new experience for all of them, but at least they won’t be completely alone. She trusts her parents to take care of them, just like they cared for her as a child.

She takes comfort in that thought, relaxing back against the seat. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been the whole time, but once she relaxes the soreness of her muscles makes itself known. She rubs at her thigh, trying to soothe some of the pain. It works, to some degree. She’ll just have to remind herself to relax and take something for the pain once the plane lands.

She rests her head against the headrest, closing her eyes. Nothing wrong with a nap on the flight. Just as long as the turbulence of landing wakes her, she’ll be fine. She feels herself slipping into unconsciousness….

The island is beyond anything she could have imagined. It’s lush and tropical, palm trees dotted everywhere. The air smells like salt from the sea, but somehow still refreshing compared to city air. Even the hotel is magnificent. There’s an indoor spa! She’s never stayed anywhere with its own spa.

They arrive late the first day, so they’re told to find their rooms and get settled in. They’ll receive instructions the next day, according to Burnin who is giving the orders. She wonders if Endeavor will show or if this whole event is being organized by Burnin. She’s certainly capable of doing it.

She spends the first night unpacking and familiarizing herself with the hotel. There’s so many extra amenities and she hopes she has time to try out some of them. She takes photos of the view from her hotel window, sending it to her parents so they can show Isaac and Hazel. When she’s finished exploring, she retires to her room and makes the promised call.

Everyone is doing great, of course. They also made it to their hotel, which Isaac excitedly informs her has an indoor pool. Hazel is much less talkative, but seems to be in high spirits even if she doesn’t outright say it. She’s glad they’re enjoying their trip so far and hopes they keep up the momentum. When they finish swapping stories, she wishes them goodnight and tells them she’ll talk more tomorrow.

The next day, they all have breakfast in the hotel’s café before convening outside. It’s more upscale dining than what she’d have expected. Once outside, Burnin gathers everyone close before speaking.

“Hello, everyone!” Her voice easily carries across the crowd. “I hope you’re ready for a fun week!”

There are cheers from the other sidekicks.

“Well, have I got a surprise for all of you.” She’s close enough to see Burnin grin. “There’s no agenda for this week, aside from getting out there and having fun together!”

No agenda? She’s a little surprised by that. She thought this was a mandatory team-building trip, not just a vacation. She feels conflicted. On one hand, she’s glad for the opportunity. On the other, she had fully expected the week to be planned out for her so now she’s at a loss.

What does one even do on vacation? It’s been eighteen years since she’s done anything by herself. Sure, she’s taken weekend trips with Hazel and Isaac but never alone. And never somewhere so opulent or tropical. She doesn’t know what to do with herself now.

“Now get out there and have fun!” She snaps back to reality at the sound of everyone’s cheers, before shuffling back inside the hotel. Whatever she wants to do, huh?

She changes into something more comfortable, having expected there to be training. Thankfully, she had thought ahead and packed extra clothes on the off-chance there was any free time. It looks like her foresight had come in handy, as she takes out her bathing suit and coverup. Nothing like a trip to the beach.

She’s surprised that there’s no rigorous training. Endeavor is known for running a tight ship, so this whole trip seems out of character. Then again, ever since his last major fight, something had changed. He’s still just as strict, but he seems almost approachable now. A little more lenient. She’s certainly not as terrified of being called to his office anymore.

She wonders if he’s come on this trip, as well, or if he’s staying back at the office. He could use the trip, she feels. He’s always working so hard. Besides, she swears she saw his youngest in the crowd. If his son is here, surely he would’ve come as well.

Someone clears their throat behind her and she startles, realizing she’s just been staring at the open elevator doors. She shakes her head, murmuring an apology, and enters the elevator. The figure behind her enters, as well, and as she turns her eyes go wide.

“Endeavor, sir,” she hurries to greets, giving a polite bow. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with a grimace. She wonders if she’s said something wrong before he grumbles something under his breath, inclining his head in acknowledgment. He doesn’t say anything else, but she’s shocked to see him. She wants to comment on it, but the elevator arrives at the ground floor before she can figure it out.

“Ah, Endeavor, sir,” she calls out without thinking.

“Please call me Enji.” She can’t help the eyebrow that raises. “We’re on vacation. I’m not your boss right now.”

“Of course, Enji, sir.” He doesn’t look pleased with the added ‘sir’ so she tries again. “Alright. Enji.” It feels awkward coming out of her mouth. He’s been her boss for the better part of a decade and never once called him by name.

He seems pleased by the amendment on her part, though it’s hard to tell with him. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to figure out why she even called out to him. He waits, turquoise eyes trained on her.

“Would you like to come to the beach with me?” She almost smacks herself with how bold she’s being. Sure, he’s been nice to her over the past few months, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be friendly.

He looks just as surprised by the offer, one eyebrow raised. She purses her lips to keep from saying anything more, waiting on an answer. Her heart pounds in her chest. Finally, he speaks.

“You’re going to the beach?” She nods. “I’ll accompany you. I was headed there regardless.”

She takes in his appearance for the first time, noting the swim shorts. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, a towel slung over his shoulders. She nods to show she understands, eyes moving back up his hulking frame, to find his eyes also looking over her.

Had she just been caught checking out her boss?

Had she just caught her boss checking her out?

The thought brings warmth to her cheeks. She ducks her head down, though she’s sure he’s already seen her blush. She decides to take the lead, brushing past him towards the door. She can feel him follow, after a few tense seconds.

She feels a little silly. She’s too old to be checking out other men, let alone her boss. It doesn’t matter if he’s older; he has his own family. She knows he has at least three kids, though she’s never heard about their mother. He has to be married, though. There’s no way a man like him hasn’t been snatched up.

She tries to push those thoughts aside, instead focusing on walking down to the beach. It’s not far from the hotel; might as well consider it the backyard. The closer they get, the more of the ocean she can smell. She’s not sure it’s an entirely pleasant scent.

There isn’t much in the way of conversation. For her, it’s just too awkward to start one and he’s not exactly known for being chatty. She’s sure he doesn’t find it awkward at all, the silence. But she does.

As she scrambles to come up with something to say, they finally arrive at the beach. There’s a few others on the beach, rainbow color of towels spread along the sand. She tries to find a spot some distance from the main crowd, not wanting to interrupt or intrude.

She expects him to part once they reach the beach, but he keeps pace with her easily. She did invite him to come with, but she hadn’t actually expected him to follow through. Sure, they talk at work about work. But conversations about patrols are entirely different from conversations about life and the weather.

They lay their towels out, red and blue side by side. It’s a little closer than she’d been expecting, but still a respectable distance apart. She hesitates a brief moment before pulling her coverup off, folding it and setting it aside. She has nothing to be embarrassed about.

Hero work has been good to her. Even after two kids, her physique is still desirable. She’s not exactly slim, but she’s muscular enough to hide the chub from two kids. She has very few major scars, the most notable being the faded white scar on her right leg from a piece of metal out of a falling building. She’s lucky it didn’t take her entire leg.

“I’m going to swim,” she announces to her company. He inclines his head, again not saying anything. She leaves him where he’s reclining on his towel, heading down to the water.

She feels more comfortable in the water. It’s cool and refreshing, compared to the sticky heat on the beach. She takes her time in the water, swimming around and floating. She even rides a few waves to the shore before swimming back out. When she’s had enough, she returns to her towel.

Endeavor—Enji, she corrects herself. He’s still laid out on his towel, but his eyes open when he hears her approach. She flops down onto her towel, feeling energized after her swim. She turns her head to face Enji, having felt his eyes on her.

He’s wearing an inscrutable expression. He’s not exactly easy to read, but it looks as if he’s taking extra care not to express any emotion. She offers him a smile, not sure what to do or say. He doesn’t return it, but he does finally look away.

She peers up at the clear blue sky, wondering what kind of exchange that was. She rests her arms behind her head, closing her eyes. It’s a vacation. She’s going to get in as many naps as possible….

She wakes sometimes later, having been shaken awake. She blinks a few times to clear the sleep from her vision.

“The tide is coming in,” Enji tells her. She nods to show her understanding before sitting up. She stretches with a yawn. “Dinner?”

She’s not sure if it’s a question or a demand.

“Sure,” she agrees. “I could go for something to eat.” She stands, grabbing her towel. She shakes off as much sand as possible before slipping her coverup back on.

“We should change at the hotel,” he says.

“Good idea.” She looks down at herself. “A quick shower might be good, too.” She gives him a crooked smile. He nods and she swears she sees the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She feels significantly less uncomfortable on the walk back, perhaps because he’s actually not that scary. He’s just not very talkative. And if she doesn’t think about how he’s her boss, it’s almost like hanging out with a friend. A very new friend. Okay, maybe it’s still a little awkward.

Dinner is a quick and quiet affair. He doesn’t say much and she isn’t sure what to say. When they finish, they bid each other a good night and go their separate ways. She takes the time to call her parents so she can speak with Isaac and Hazel. They tell her all about their trip so far and she shares hers.

“You spoke with Mr. Endeavor?” Isaac seems in awe.

“Yeah, sweetie. I spoke with Mr. Endeavor.”

“Can you get his autograph for me?” She can hear the excitement in his voice.

“His autograph?” She repeats.

“Yes!” Isaac is definitely bouncing on the other end. “I saw him on the TV! He’s my new favorite Hero!” She chuckles.

“Sure thing, sweetie. I’ll get his autograph for you.” It shouldn’t be too difficult. He is her boss and she’s sure he’s used to being asked for it.

“You’re the best, Mommy!” She smiles at that.

“Love you, too, sweetie.”

“Okay, I’m gonna give the phone to Hazel now.” There’s a shuffling noise before she hears Hazel’s voice.

“How are things going, Mom?”

“They’re going well,” she answers. “How are you doing?”

“It’s okay.” She hears Hazel shrug. “Nanny took me to the museum, so I guess it’s alright.”

“The museum?” She prompts. “Which one?”

“The Hero Museum,” there’s a smile in her voice. “It was pretty cool.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” She really is. Hazel is a difficult child sometimes, but her interests aren’t outside the realm of any other ten-year-old. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Hazel huffs. “I’m giving you back to Nanny now.” More noise as the phone is swapped to another.

She talks to her mom for a few more minutes, just to be sure the kids are behaving. Her mom assures her that everything is fine and to enjoy her own vacation.

The next day is spent much the same: at the beach with her boss. Enji. She keeps having to remind herself. She does manage to get his autograph, explaining it’s for her youngest. He asks about him, and she’s more than happy to talk about her kids.

He speaks about his own children, much older than her own, but there’s pride in his voice as he speaks about them. She can’t help but smile, her laughter coming freely when he tells embarrassing stories about them. It feels like she’s getting to know him and she can’t help but like what she’s seeing.

It’s hard not to find him physically attractive, but she’s old enough to not be distracted by a pretty body. She’s worked for his agency for nearly ten years; she’s long gotten used to the way he looks. But something about their conversations has her reassessing him.

The third day on the island, something feels different between them. He feels warmer, somehow. It isn’t exactly anything particular he does. It’s in the way they lean towards each other when they speak, the way they keep bumping into each other, the way they keep finding ways to spend time together. It’s a combination of all these things that has her heart pounding when she sees him.

She decides to make a move. Either he ignores it or he reciprocates. Either way, there’s no harm done. They’re on vacation. Perhaps she’s feeling a little risky because of it. Away from work, away from her kids, she’s feeling a little more brave than usual.

It’s been years since she last was with anyone. After Isaac’s father left, she swore off dating and catching feelings in general. It was just too much of a hassle. Why now, after all these years, she isn’t sure. Something about it just feels different. Feels right.

They go out for dinner as usual, but she invites him to the hotel bar afterwards. She doesn’t fully expect him to agree, so when he does she’s feeling more confident. They sit next to each other at the near empty hotel bar, drinks in hand.

When she makes a joke, laughing at it while he gives a slight grin, she reaches out to put her hand on his arm. He looks surprised by it at first, eyes going slightly wider. She wonders for a brief moment if she’s overstepped, pulling her hand back, but he quickly grabs it before she can withdraw.

They stare at one another, neither saying anything. It’s like he’s waiting for a signal. She nods. He moves into action, pulling her up from her seat. He keeps their fingers entwined, tugging her along to the elevator.

It’s actually happening, she realizes, as she leads him to her hotel room. She didn’t think this would ever actually happen.

He presses her against the hotel door, mouth hot and heavy on hers. She grasps at his arms, his shirt, anything she can reach to keep herself afloat. She’s quickly giving in, sinking further into his desires. She doesn’t think she wants to fight them anymore.

His mouth moves down to her neck, biting and kissing. She can’t help the sounds spilling from her and just hopes no one in the rooms around can hear her. His hands—big, so big—tug at her dress until she’s slipping the straps from her shoulders and letting it fall to the ground.

His bright turquoise eyes stare at her, wearing nothing more than a pair of lacy underwear. She feels intimidated by that heavy gaze, feels the urge to cover herself.

“Don’t,” he growls as he grabs her hands, pulling them away. “Let me see you.”

She lets her hands fall to the side, trying not to feel so self-conscious. She tries not to think of all the stretch marks across her belly and thighs, on the tops of her breasts. She tries to remind herself that they wouldn’t be here if he didn’t see something desirable about her body.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping a breast. It fits perfectly in his hand, his thumb rubbing circles against her nipple. She squirms, a moan slipping from her parted lips.

“You too,” she tosses back. “I want to see you, too.” He grins, something crooked and slightly menacing. But he pulls away from her, tugging off his shirt and shorts. She reaches for the last piece separating them from each other, pulling them down.

She can’t help but stare. She knew he was a large man, but it couldn’t have prepared her for how proportionate that made him. Long and thick, red at the head. She wraps her hand around him as best she can, giving a few short tugs, and hears him groan. Will it even fit?

She doesn’t have much more room for thought as he pulls her in for another kiss, tugging her towards the bed. She goes willingly, wanting nothing more than to feel him against her. He nibbles at her bottom lip and she licks at his; soon their tongues tangle together. It’s been so long since she’s been with anyone like this. She hopes she can make it as good for him as it feels for her.

She lays on the bed, situating herself against the pillows. She beckons him, wanting to close the distance between them. He lays himself atop her, balanced by his hands on either side of her hips. He kisses her, sweeter this time. Not as desperate.

He kisses a path down her neck, across her shoulder, before dipping to take a nipple into his mouth. She shudders, pleasure welling within her. She runs a hand through his hair, red strands tickling between her fingers. He hums, licking and sucking her nipples.

“Enji,” she whines, pushing on his head. He chuckles, moving lower. He plants kisses across her stomach, still a little pudgy from her last pregnancy nearly eight years ago. She feels self-conscious about it, but the way he worships her body makes it a little better.

Finally, he’s exactly where she wants him. He wastes no time, diving right into his task. Her head knocks against the headboard, but the brief bloom of pain is nothing compared to the sensation between her legs.

He eats her out like a man starved. A little uncoordinated, but enthusiastic. His tongue circles her clit before flicking it, a single thick finger toying with her hole. She grips the blankets beneath them, unable to stop the noises slipping out of her kiss-swollen lips.

He slips a single finger in finally. It’s as thick as two of her own, but she knows she’s going to need the preparation if he’s going inside of her. She squirms, wanting to clamp her legs shut, but his shoulders keep her spread. She has no choice but to give in to the onslaught of sensations.

And give in she does. Head thrown back, mouth open and spilling profanity with his name mixed in. She couldn’t keep quiet if she wanted to and she can tell he definitely doesn’t want her to keep quiet. That single finger pumps in and out, stretching her, before he adds a second.

It’s almost too much, but she forces her body to relax. She’s soaking, giving him plenty to work with. His spit and her fluids ease the way for that second finger. She moans, pressing down against him. She feels his laughter, a gentle vibration through her cunt.

“Please,” she begs. “Want you inside.”

She’s ready for it. She can handle it. He pulls off, looking up at her, and she can’t help but flush at the sight of him. His chin is wet with her juices, his lips swollen. He shifts up, towering above her, and reaches down to line himself up.

Her mouth opens on a silent moan as he pushes in, stretching her beyond what she thought she was capable of. It’s painful at first, but as she has time to adjust it morphs into pleasure.

“Finally,” his voice rumbles through her. “Been wanting to do this.”

She whines, pushing her hips down and against him. She needs him to move already. It’s been ages since she last got fucked and she’s eager for it. She wants him to pound her into the mattress until she forgets who she is.

He delivers on those fantasies. He fucks into her roughly and with abandon, until she’s moaning his name and his name only. He shoves two of his fingers into her mouth and she sucks on them, drool seeping from the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t even care, too busy with the feel of him.

She doesn’t even care anymore when things changed between them. The only thing she cares about in that moment is coming around his cock. She can worry about feelings and emotions later. Right now, she’s only focused on reaching that high.

He reaches between them to roll his thumb against her clit and she can feel her eyes roll to the back of her head. Just a few circles and she’s cumming hard around his cock. He fucks her through it, fingers shoved deep in her mouth.

When she comes down, she takes a moment to appreciate the fucked out look on his face. The squinting of his eyes as he concentrates, the sweat beading on his temples, and the slack-jawed grunts and groans spilling from his lips.

“Inside,” she tells him. “Come inside me.” It’s a risky request, but she wants it. He does, too, judging by the way his thrusts speed up until he growls and spills inside of her.

When he pulls up, she feels his semen trickle down the inside of her thighs. He collapses onto the bed beside her, but searches for her hand among the sheets. He laces their fingers together and she smiles up at the ceiling.

The mood is ruined by the sound of her ringtone, however. She’s tempted not to answer, but it might be her parents calling about the kids. With a sigh and a silent promise to return, she gets out of the bed to answer.

“Mommy!” Her son, Isaac, shouts from the other side. “Are you coming home yet?”

“Not yet, sweetie,” she laughs. “In a few more days.”

“Awww,” he pouts. “You’re with Mr. Endeavor, right, mommy?”

“Yeah,” her voice is soft with affection as she gazes towards the bed, where Enji is lounging.

“Did you get his autograph for me?” She chuckles, but confirms she did.. “Yay! You’re the best, mommy!”

Isaac hands the phone off to her mother, who updates her on her eldest who refuses to come to the phone. It’s just like Hazel to be so stubborn. They’re doing fine, her mother assures her, and tells her to enjoy her only vacation in eight years. She just laughs, but promises to have as much fun as possible.

When she’s finished, she sets her phone back down on the desk and wanders back to the bed. Enji greets her with open arms and she rests her head on his chest. She listens to his heartbeat, letting it lull her to sleep.

Best getaway ever, is her final thought before she falls asleep.

#🖖🏻.writes #bnha #endeavor x oc

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dirtyhelen · 4 years

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with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part one

PART ONE: can you feel it? (Series Masterlist) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Rating: Explicit (18+) Featuring: Smut; Angst; Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs; Dubious Consent; Loss of Virginity; First Time; Vaginal Sex; Cunnilingus; Creampie; Dirty Talk Words: 5484 Summary: For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume. “Oh, fuck.” You and Bucky get hit with an extremely powerful aphrodisiac, resulting in some mind-blowing (but dubiously consensual) sex on a quinjet. And if sleeping with a coworker in a drug-fueled haze wasn’t bad enough, you’ve also had an unrequited crush on him for months. A/N: My first multi-chapter fic! My first attempt at something resembling a plot! There will be 3 parts, about 15k total. Titles are from Want You In My Room by Carly Rae Jepsen. Part 2 will be out next week!

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“Thanks, Steve,” you say as he sets your bag in one of the quinjet’s storage compartments. Ever the gentleman, he’d insisted on carrying your luggage for you, since he was headed the same way anyway. Just a few minutes ago the jet was bustling with technicians packing away carefully labelled silver briefcases, but now it’s just you, Steve, Bucky, and Bruce. Bucky is headed to Wakanda, summoned by Shuri with the promise of impressive new upgrades for his arm. The briefcases are samples of chemical solutions the Avengers recently confiscated from an enemy base. They’re also headed to Wakanda, to be examined in one of the country’s laboratories even Tony - begrudgingly – has to admit are more advanced than his own. Along the way, Bucky will be dropping you in Zurich to meet up with Pepper. She’s attending a fancy business retreat there and snagged you an invite under the guise of professional development and maintaining the relationship between Stark Industries and the Avengers. As though being married to Iron Man isn’t enough to cement that relationship. Really, she just hates being outnumbered by arrogant, misogynistic billionaires and wants the company. You’re certainly not complaining. A chance to eat ridiculously expensive food and shit talk gross old men in view of the Swiss Alps? Beats running around after the team, keeping track of a thousand conflicting schedules and chasing down late mission reports. You spend another minute or two idly chatting with Steve and Bruce as Bucky makes himself busy at the instrument panel. The jet can basically fly itself, but you suspect Bucky gets a bit of a thrill any time he gets to be in the cockpit, tech nerd that he is. “You sure you have everything?” Steve asks you with a teasing smirk. “It’s a whole two days, you know. Pretty sure that requires at least a dozen books.” “Oh, har-har,” you grumble. “God, you overpack one time and it turns into a whole thing!” “Didn’t you take like four pairs of shoes and two books for a day trip?” Bruce calls as he walks down the ramp, heading back to the lab, you’re sure. “It was three pairs and you can’t always rely on weather forecasts!” you shout after him. Steve jokingly rolls his eyes. “Of course. And the books?” “Two is a perfectly reasonable number of books to bring on a day trip,” you protest primly. “And if I recall correctly, you ended up borrowing one of those books on the way home, so you’re welcome.” “Fair enough,” Steve laughs, holding out his hands in mock concession and turning to say his goodbyes to Bucky, currently bent over the panel, confidently pressing buttons and flicking toggles. It gives you some comfort. You’re a bit of a nervous flier, but Bucky seems to know what he’s doing and the Avengers’ personal jet has to be a lot safer than any commercial plane you’ve ever been on anyway. Though it’s more than just the thought of crashing into the Atlantic ocean that has you on edge. Three hours. That’s approximately how long you’ll be confined with Bucky in a high-tech tin can. Three hours to sit in awkward silence, or worse, awkward conversation if your previous interactions are anything to go by. Chances are you’ll try to make small talk but somehow end up saying something stupid while Bucky just sort of looks at you like he’s wondering how you managed to get this job in the first place. It’s a reasonable question, to be fair, and one you’ve asked yourself at least once every day since you started. Not that you’re a notably skilled conversationalist in general, but around Bucky, you can barely manage to string two coherent sentences together. You can’t help it! You just like him so fucking much and you want him to like you even just a little, so you try to be cool and relaxed and chill. Like Natasha or Sam, the two people who, apart from Steve, he seems to actually be comfortable around. Unfortunately, you are neither cool nor relaxed and you definitely are not chill. No, you are a grab-bag of somewhat less attractive personality traits like excitable and dorky and perpetually-fucking-nervous, all wrapped up in sensible shoes and practical, un-sexy clothing. Basically the anti-Nat, or any person you can imagine Bucky being attracted to. So when you try to converse with him like a normal person you usually end up rambling on like an alien who watched one episode of Gilmore Girls and thought that was how humans really communicated with each other. Not exactly a turn on. Sadly, knowing you have absolutely no chance with him does nothing to stop your feelings. If anything it only makes them stronger somehow. No harm in letting yourself become totally obsessed with the guy since it’s not like you’ll ever tell him how you feel, therefore there’s no chance of rejection! Foolproof! Really though, you don’t know how you could have avoided falling for him anyway, even if you had tried. As a member of the team’s admin staff, you see them basically every day. Relaxing, training, doing press and charity events – everything but actually going on missions. After months of chatting during meetings, discussing schedules and events, and working in the same place they live, you’ve gotten to know them pretty well, you think. And despite Bucky’s taciturn demeanor, the White Wolf seems more like a puppy to you. Sure, his resting expression has a tendency to read as slightly murderous and he's undoubtedly deadly in the field, but there's another side to him too. Bucky is enthralled with all things technological. Whenever there’s a presentation on new tools for the team Bucky is there, bright-eyed and attentive, with thoughtful, clever questions on how it all works, and he’s not shy about making suggestions either. He shamelessly enjoys all things soft and cozy – fuzzy blankets, knit sweaters, his cat. Alpine was a stray Bucky found wandering the grounds of the compound. Now she wanders the residential wing instead, usually wherever Bucky is. He could be bitter and angry and cruel after everything he’s been through – and God knows he’d have every right – but he’s not. He has his bad days, of course. Days at a time where you hardly see him except for mandatory meetings or training, and then with dark shadows under his eyes and a heavy blankness that seems etched into his face. But most of the time it’s clear he wants to be part of the world. With his never-ending curiosity about all the things he missed, or never had the freedom to enjoy. With his dark, wry humor and the fond way he can’t help but look at Steve whenever he says something that must remind him of before the war. With the way he tries so goddamn hard to put some good back into the world, to make up for things that weren’t even his fault. You truly don’t understand how anyone could know him and not love him. You certainly never stood a chance. “See you, pal. Text me when you land.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring into nothing for longer than you realized. “Say hi to Pepper for me!” he calls to you as he leaves. And with that, it’s just you and Bucky. For the next three hours. +++ The awkward silence – apart from a quiet, “You ready?” from Bucky just before take-off – lasts all of ten minutes. That’s as long as you can go before the pressure to say something becomes irresistible. Being bad at talking to Bucky has never kept you from trying, unfortunately. “You excited to go back to Wakanda?” you ask. Bucky nods. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to see Shuri again.” He says it with a soft smile and you know he means it. He clearly has a deep affection and respect for her. “I bet. She seems ridiculously cool. Honestly, I wanna be her when I grow up,” you joke, then immediately cringe. I wanna be her when I grow up? Come on! Bucky laughs politely and the jet is once again silent. Bucky seems content to just sit with his thoughts, but the jet’s at cruising altitude now so you take the opportunity to get out of your seat and grab one of the only two books from your bag. Can’t say anything stupid if you’re too busy reading! Check and mate, Rogers. You’re elbow deep in toiletries and underwear, having decided blindly digging around would be preferable to actually taking the bag down and fully unzipping it, when you decide to try speaking again. “So do you know what upgrades you’re getting? You know, for –” you gesture at your left arm, or try to, except you use the arm currently being eaten by your suitcase at the exact moment the jet hits a patch of turbulence, jostling you and your luggage. Bucky jumps up, darting over to steady you with a hand on your back. As a part of your mind becomes consumed with thoughts of, holy shit he’s touching me, you manage to wrench your arm out of your suitcase, sending it to knock against the silver briefcase next to it. The impact shifts the briefcase slightly. The next bump of the jet a moment later has it falling out of the storage unit entirely. The silver briefcases used by the Avengers to transport dangerous or delicate materials are very cleverly designed so that – properly clasped – they could be used as a football for an NFL game with no ill-effects. Which is how you know this case has very clearly not been properly clasped because as it falls it springs open, and a small vial of clear liquid hits the floor. And shatters. For a single moment there is absolute silence as you and Bucky stare down at the broken glass and the thin, silvery mist rising from it with shocking speed and volume, filling the space around your bodies. “Oh, fuck,” you breathe. Bucky snaps into action, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you toward the sleeping compartments in the back of the jet, calling for FRIDAY along the way. “Get us back to the compound now,” he orders. “And get Stark or Banner on the line.” He shoves you inside the nearest cabin, following and sliding the door shut behind him. Immediately he’s gripping you by the shoulders and turning you to face him. “Did any of it get on you? On your clothes?” he asks urgently, eyes scanning your body. “No! I mean, not the liquid, I don’t think. But what about that mist or vapour or whatever? What if we breathed it in?” You have no idea what was in that vial. “Oh God, we’re gonna die,” you moan, anxiously pacing the tiny room. “Or I am, anyway. You’ll probably be fine. Fuck. Oh my God. What if it’s like, some flesh-eating poison? Am I gonna turn into the Hulk?” Your heart races and you feel hot. You can’t tell if it’s just fear or something worse but whatever it is must show on your face because Bucky gently guides you to sit on the narrow bed as the call finally connects. “Hey, Bucky, what’s up?” It’s Bruce, thank God. You’re not sure you could handle even the briefest and most well-meaning witticism from Tony right now. Bucky very quickly briefs Bruce on the situation, finishing with, “Any idea what the fuck was in that case?” You can hear the anxiety in Bruce’s voice. “Shit, I don’t know. Not unless you have the label. And we didn’t really examine them, just packed them up.” “Fucking great!” you can’t help but interject, throwing your hands in the air and receiving a concerned look from Bucky in return “But listen, guys. You’re on your way back to the compound – FRIDAY says 30 minutes tops. I’ll have medical and biochem ready as soon as you touch down. And it’s already been what? Like five minutes? If nothing’s happened yet, you’re probably fine? Just sit tight and don’t leave the cabin. The doors seal airtight so nothing can get through.” And with that, Bruce hangs up to get everything ready for your return, leaving you and Bucky at opposite ends of an very small space. You’ve never been claustrophobic before but you must be developing the fear because the walls feel like they’re closing in and your heart feels like it’s about to beat its way out of your chest. “Okay, wow. Great. ‘Sit tight.’ That’s awesome, just awesome.” You look around the room, empty except for the bunk you’re sitting on. “What are we supposed to do now? Play twenty fucking questions?” Your relaxing weekend abroad has disappeared and apparently taken your brain-to-mouth filter with it. Between that, your racing heart, and the increasing heat spreading through your body you’re not entirely sure that you’re probably fine, but you’re chalking it up to anxiety because it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it anyway. Except sit tight. Looking up at Bucky you can see his cheeks have taken on a pink flush, but again, that’s probably just stress. Or maybe annoyance at having to be trapped in a tiny room with you and your panicked blathering for the next half hour. Sighing, he sinks to the floor, resting his back against the door and stretching out his legs in front of him. “Nothin’ to do but wait, doll.” Your eyes flash to his. Doll. He’s never called you that before. He’s never really called you anything before. Bucky seems to have noticed it too because he furrows his brows, looking like he’s just as surprised as you are. There’s a brief moment of eye contact before you both quickly look away, choosing not to address it. Probably just a habit, you think. A remnant of the Bucky that existed long before you were born, jumping out in a moment of stress. A heavy silence falls, leaving you both to your own thoughts. You try to focus on breathing, on staying calm, but your mind keeps straying and it feels like there’s too much energy in your body. Your skin practically itches with it and you squirm, unable to get comfortable but not sure exactly why. You can hear Bucky tapping his foot on the floor, the sound of him shifting around. You wonder if he feels it too. Bucky… Doll. The way it had fallen out of his mouth so casually, so easily. As though he’d said it to you a hundred times. You feel a spark bubble up inside you picturing Bucky’s flushed cheeks and that word. You imagine him saying it breathlessly, reverently, just before his lips touch yours. Or growling it out as he moves inside you… Fuck, doll, just like that. You nearly let out a whimper and you feel a rush of slick in your panties, shocking you out of your fantasy as you become uncomfortably aware of just how wet you are. That spreading heat flares even more than before and you realize you must have been dripping into your underwear for longer than just the last few seconds. There’s a deep throb of arousal in your core, stronger than anything you’ve felt before, like that unbearable energy under your skin has been pulled to settle deep inside you. It’s confusing – far too powerful to be the result of a vague, half-imagined fantasy. But even as you wonder at what’s happening, it’s like a fog settles over you, the confusion half-hearted, nothing compared to the growing urge to touch, to quell the burning fire inside you. Before you can even consciously register the movement, your hand is making its way to your pussy. Any shock or embarrassment at your wildly inappropriate behaviour is slow to appear and dulled when it does. Snatching your hand back just as it nears the apex of your thighs is like walking through deep water, like you have to convince yourself why you shouldn’t get off in front of a co-worker. Your eyes flash to Bucky, wondering if he’s seen, if he’s affected the same way you are, only to find his gaze already fixed on you, blue eyes blown nearly black. His fists are clenched at his sides and his lips are bitten red and spit-slick. He breathes in deep, nostrils flaring, and you realize he can smell you. It should be humiliating. You should be turning away in humiliation, but instead, you feel yourself get – somehow, impossibly – wetter and this time you can’t contain the helpless whimper when Bucky groans and licks his lips in response. It’s as if with that sound the floodgates have opened because in an instant you’re slipping off the bed and throwing yourself at him, desperate to be closer, as close as physically possible. You scramble on top of him, graceless and frantic, straddling his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky’s hands grip your ass, pulling you closer and grinding you down on his cock, pressing hard and hot against you even through your clothes. There’s a moment – a tiny fraction of a second – where you catch each other’s eyes. A pause, where you think you see something, some emotion on Bucky's face, but you don't have time to decipher it before he’s surging up to press his lips against yours and a bomb is set off inside you. You have no idea what you’re doing – your experiences up to now have been limited to a handful of lackluster kisses with people not worth remembering – but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice or mind. He holds your face firmly in his hands, turning your head to suit him as he licks into your mouth and you do your best to mimic his actions, clumsy in your mindless passion. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and you gasp, rocking your hips against his, trying to get some friction on your throbbing clit. He thrusts up against you and you move together but it’s not enough. It’s clear whatever was in that vial has created a thirst in you that won’t be quenched by a heated make-out session and you pull away from Bucky's mouth, moaning as he tilts your head back to kiss your neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin. “More,” you gasp. “I need more.” You feel him nod against your throat and with one last, deep kiss to your lips Bucky grips you by the hips and lifts you off him, shifting to rest his weight on his heels before reaching to push your dress up over your waist. Almost all of your higher brain function is devoted to being as close to Bucky as possible but far in the back of your mind, there’s a small part of you that’s simply shocked at what’s happening, at the sensations coursing through your body. You have never felt this uninhibited in your entire life. You were a shy, anxious child who grew into a somewhat less shy, anxious adult, easily embarrassed and prone to overthinking. But now, with that silvery mist working its way through your system, you’ve never felt so shameless. Bucky is feverishly slipping off your shoes and tugging down your tights and you’re not thinking about how you haven’t shaved your legs in weeks or how you’re wearing an old pair of plain cotton panties or any of the dozens of worries that would be running through your head under normal circumstances. (Not that Bucky would be undressing you at all, under normal circumstances.) No. Instead of overthinking and paralyzing yourself with fear, you’re pulling your dress over your head and reaching back to unclasp your bra so you can get your own hands on your breasts. You could almost just sit and bask in this unfamiliar feeling of freedom if it weren’t for the hot ache in your core that threatens to burn you alive with every moment you go untouched. As soon as your tights have been pulled off and tossed aside, Bucky is shouldering your legs apart and leaning forward to press his nose against the wet patch on your panties, breathing deep. “Fuck, doll. I need to taste you.” You whimper as his tongue darts out to lick a wide stripe up the length of your covered cunt. His hands move to your hips and in an instant, your panties are torn from your body and his mouth is on your bare skin for the first time. You can’t help but gasp as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your folds. His tongue licks up your opening and circles your clit before moving back down and slipping inside you, drinking up your slick. Bucky growls against your pussy. “So fucking good.” His tongue moves back to your clit and he laps at it in short, teasing flicks. You begin to buck helplessly and Bucky’s metal arm brackets your hips, holding you still for his mouth. He switches to deep, firm circles over your clit, alternating with wide laps over the whole of your cunt. You’re losing your mind, flat on your back with your legs thrown over Bucky’s shoulders, heels pressing into his back. You’ve never felt anything like this. You haven’t even come yet but it’s already more intense than any orgasm you’ve ever given yourself. You feel two fingers against your opening and you fight Bucky’s grip over your hipbones, trying to grind yourself down onto him. He chuckles at your efforts and presses just the tips of his fingers inside you. “So needy, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to tease right now when you're ready to fall to your knees and plead just for the chance at an orgasm. You whine, trying again to slide down onto his fingers but his metal arm keeps you from moving a single inch and you toss your head back with a wail. “Please, Bucky,” you sob. “I need it, I need you. Please.” You feel no embarrassment at your begging. The fire inside you is growing hotter and hotter. You need him. You need to be filled, fucked. You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you now. The teasing tone drops out of Bucky’s voice and he presses messy kisses to your inner thighs. “I know, I know. I feel it too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full. Gonna make you feel so good, make it better.” His fingers finally slip into you, sliding easily through your wetness. He starts thrusting and his tongue circles your clit again as his fingers curl. He focuses on your g-spot, stroking roughly as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks. You’re coming in seconds with a series of breathy moans, thighs clamped tightly around Bucky’s head. He doesn’t let up, only pulling away when you tug at his hair, the sensations too much. He kisses you, sliding his tongue against yours and you can taste yourself in his mouth. It reignites the fire your orgasm had dulled slightly and you pull away, about to plead for more, but it seems Bucky has finally reached his limit. His hands work at his belt and he shoves his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock. You’ve never really seen one in person before and maybe under different circumstances you’d take a moment to get familiar, but right now all you can do is spread your legs and beg. Bucky quickly positions himself above you, lining his cock up with your entrance. He drags the head along your pussy a couple times, groaning as he slicks himself up and begins to push into you. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had inside you hardly notice the sting. It’s nothing compared to the raging chorus inside you chanting more, more, more. In one single, hurried thrust he’s fully inside, your bodies pressed flush together. Bucky moans. “So fucking tight, fuck. You feel so goddamn good, doll,” he pants above you, leaning down for a filthy kiss, wet and open. “Fucking move, please,” you beg, hooking your legs around him and digging in your heels. Bucky growls into your mouth and pulls out almost entirely before thrusting back inside hard, pulling a sound from deep in your throat. He repeats the move a handful of times before settling into a harsh, pounding rhythm with his face buried in your neck. You cling to his back, senseless, unable to focus on anything but how good you feel. Your brain feels fuzzy and empty and every thrust drags his cock along your g-spot and it’s too much, too good. You’re a gasping, panting mess. It’s not long before his hips start to stutter, his rhythm breaking as he moans out above you. Your hand slides down your body to your clit and you rub firm circles around it. A few swipes and you’re coming, harder than you ever have in your life, with a high, keening moan. The tight squeezes of your cunt have Bucky coming too and you feel a warmth release inside you as he collapses against your chest. Neither of you moves for a long moment, your heavy, mingled breaths the only sound in the room. There’s still some lingering fog as you soak in the afterglow of your drug-intensified orgasm, but it seems like the chemical has run its course and clarity is quickly returning to you. The silence is broken by FRIDAY announcing your approach to one of the landing pads, and you feel the jet begin its descent a moment later. Her voice hits you like a slap in the face, a stark reminder of what’s really happening here, what you’ve just done. It seems Bucky feels the same, because he leans back just enough to look you in the eyes and a long moment of horrified recognition passes between you. Your breathing picks up again as panic surges through you. You start to squirm under his weight but he’s already moving. You wince as he pulls out of you, suddenly aware of a deep soreness between your legs. In seconds, Bucky has tucked himself back into his jeans, and he storms out of the cabin without a backward glance. So eager to get away from you he doesn’t seem to care that he might be walking directly into a toxic cloud. Like anything would be better than being trapped with you for another moment. You lay there on the floor, naked and shivering, with Bucky’s cum starting to leak out of you as you struggle to take a breath, all the anxiety and uncertainty the drug had masked flooding back to you at once. You force yourself to sit up and pull your clothes back on, cringing as you feel the mess between your legs seep into your tights. You hastily stuff your ruined panties in your pocket. You take a few deep breaths and try to still your shaking hands as you hear footsteps approaching the cabin. You’re given a respirator and guided off the jet into a throng of people awaiting your arrival, Bucky nowhere to be seen. White-coated staff swarm you and lead you inside. +++ You wish you could say the next several hours are a blur, but they are, unfortunately, exceptionally, horrifically clear. You’re taken through a decontamination shower, though you’re really not sure how much good it could do at this point, then poked and prodded with needles and swabs while having the most mortifying conversation of your life. You feel nearly choked with a shocking, burning shame. This morning you woke up nervous and excited for a weekend away, and now you’re telling a handful of strangers how you just had sex for the first time in an uncontrollable, frenzied state of lust with one of the Avengers. And as though it couldn’t be worse, it’s made all the more humiliating by the lingering throb of arousal thrumming through you the entire time. It seems whatever this drug is, the two orgasms you’ve already had weren’t enough to neutralize it, though at least you have enough self-control now to keep from shoving your hand down your pants in front of everyone in the room. Finally, after what seems like hours and unfortunately really is hours, you’re told to go home and rest. You’ve been given an emergency contraceptive, a pamphlet for the Employee Assistance Program, a number to call if you feel any strange symptoms, and told that someone will follow up with you in the next day or so. You feel numb as you enter your apartment, tugging off your med-bay issued scrubs on the way to the bathroom. You get yourself off in the shower, and though it’s the most joyless orgasm of your life, it seems to finally clear any lingering arousal from your system. Wincing at the tenderness between your legs, you scrub yourself clean under the hot spray, half wishing you could dissolve into a puddle and wash away down the drain with the soapy water. You’re getting ready for bed when your thoughts take a sudden turn to Bucky for the first time in hours. You’d been so overwhelmed by all the tests and questions, so cocooned in your own embarrassment you’d practically forgotten about him. Guilt rushes through you at your own selfish thoughtlessness. Feeling so sorry for yourself like you were the only victim. Like you were the victim at all. You’ve had a crush on Bucky for months, have spent more time than you’d like to admit imagining being with him in ways both innocent and obscene. But he’s never looked twice at you, barely speaks to you except for unavoidable work discussions. Not that you expect anything different. Someone like him would never want to be with you anywhere outside your daydreams. Except now he has been with you. Forced against his will to take part in some horrific act, because surely that’s how Bucky must see it, now the fog of uncontrollable lust has cleared. You had sex for the first time in decidedly unwanted conditions, but at least it was with someone you’re genuinely attracted to, someone you have feelings for. Bucky had been forced to have sex with someone he didn’t even like, much less desire. After everything he’s been through, how hard he’s worked to find a place where he can feel safe and in control of his own life – his own body. Only to have that control taken from him again in the most indecent way. Shame, viscous and thick, swells in your throat like sickness and your eyes fill with tears. No wonder Bucky ran out of the cabin the way he had. You feel so much worse because of your feelings for him. Dirty and wrong because you would have enjoyed the sex even without the drug. You know, deep down, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to knock the case over and you had no idea what was inside – not to mention you weren’t the one who forgot to latch it – but you can’t help but feel responsible for what happened and you wonder if Bucky feels the same. If he knows about your feelings and thinks you orchestrated the entire thing on purpose. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. And the rest of the team! If they don’t know already, they will soon enough. What if they blame you too? What if they’re disgusted by you? Anxiety spreads through your body from your pounding heart, filling your limbs. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. You feel boiling hot and ice cold all at once. Collapsing to your bedroom floor, you bring your hands to your thighs, digging your fingernails into the skin. The sharp pain distracts you from the heavy panic flooding your body enough to let you focus on breathing in, then out, repeating the words in your head until you feel your heart rate settle, the panic easing a little. You pull yourself up off the floor and push yourself through the motions of getting ready for bed. The intrusive thoughts are still there (everyone hates you. You’re going to lose your job. Are you sure you didn’t do it on purpose?) but you try to ignore them. There’s nothing you can do about anything right now and thinking yourself into a panic attack won’t do any good. You turn on an old episode of your favourite show and get in bed, tugging the covers up to your neck and focusing on the screen, allowing the familiar storylines to dull the intensity of your thoughts until you finally fall asleep. A/N: And that’s the end of Part 1! Thanks for reading and feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog and let me know what you thought! I spent a truly ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out the whole sex pollen aspect and I’m still not totally happy with it hahah but I hope it doesn’t seem too shoe-horned in 😝 Anything else that you’d like to see tagged/warned for, let me know!!

#bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #smut #series

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salvador-daley · 4 years

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Quarantine (Part 1)

Robert Sheehan x Reader

A young starlet finally lands what she hopes will be her big break. But first she has to endure two weeks locked up with her annoying co-star

CW: Smut, of course. Plus a lackadaisical attitude to airline safety protocols

The flight is a little delayed, so you wheel your Louis Vuitton case into the airport lounge and order a glass of champagne. You pick a table by the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking the terminal concourse and pull out your book, trying to ignore that tight knot of nervous energy growing in your stomach. You hate flying and your anxiety only seems to get worse the more you do it.

Is it too soon to take one of my pills? you think. Probably. The flight could be delayed even longer and then you’d only end up falling asleep in this armchair and missing it altogether.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you barely register the tall man entering the lounge and sauntering towards your table, only fully becoming aware of his presence when he drops his slightly tatty leather rucksack at your feet.

“Hello there!” he says brightly in an Irish accent, slumping into the seat opposite uninvited. “I believe we’re going to be working together soon.”

You look up and see the familiar face of your new co-star smiling back at you. He’s wearing a designer duffle coat that could just as easily be from a charity shop and a slightly see-through sweater that appears to have been purchased from the womenswear section. You note that it bears several holes around the neckline.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, extending your hand and introducing yourself.

“We’ve met before actually, at Nancy’s New Year party last year,” he says, shaking your hand, his various beaded bracelets jangling.

You smile at him blankly. You spent that entire party sucking up to a producer who would later tell you that you were “a little too provincial” for a part you wanted, whatever the fuck that means.

“Anyway,” he says after an awkward beat, “I’ll bet you’re looking forward to being locked up in quarantine when we get to the other end.”

“Oh, I dunno,” you sigh, “I think maybe two weeks of peace and quiet sounds pretty nice. I’m quite good at entertaining myself and it’ll hopefully give me a chance to look over the scripts again. What about you?” you ask.

“I’ve come prepared,” he says, opening his coat to display a dog-eared copy of the Bhagavad Gita poking out of his inside pocket.

“Hindu scripture,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “That is some hardcore reading material.”

He leans forward: “Oh, I’m sure it’s no less hardcore than…” he lifts your book away from the table to look at the cover, “Jackie Collins! Now that is hardcore,” he says, giving you a devilish look.

“Don’t take the piss,” you say, snatching the book off the table and shoving it in your bag. “It relaxes me, I’m a bad flyer.”

You lean back and cross your legs, catching him as he steals a glance at the strip of flesh between your thigh-high boots and your leather miniskirt.

“You’ve dressed for comfort, I see,” he says, using his eyebrows to indicate your outfit.

“I’m not about to end up on the front page of TMZ in my jogging bottoms,” you scoff.

He sighs and leans back in the chair, shoving a hand into the pocket of his... jogging bottoms.

“Not everyone can pull them off,” you add quickly.

He smiles, perhaps at your accidental double entendre.

“Oh, I’m sure you could,” he says.

****

“Welcome aboard, sir, you are in seat 3A,” says the flight attendant, tearing off the stub of his boarding pass. “And you are in seat 3F, madam,” she adds, tearing off yours.

“Oh well, we can wave at each other across the plane,” he says, giving you a wink as he heads inside.

As he takes his seat he actually does wave at you from across the plane, wiggling his fingers impishly. You wave back and attempt to smile underneath your face mask, but your nerves are getting the better of you now. You slip one of your pills beneath the mask and try to concentrate on staying calm, every whirr and click of the aircraft setting your teeth on edge. At least the seat next to you is empty. You couldn’t cope with being sat next to a snoring stranger for the next eight hours.

As the plane takes off, you close your eyes, gripping the armrests and concentrating on taking deep breaths. After a while, you become vaguely aware of the seatbelt light turning off in the cabin.

He drops into the empty seat next to you: “How are you holding up?”

“Not great,” you say, opening one eye to look at him. “My therapist told me to take deep breaths, but that’s easier said than done.”

“Excuse me, my love,” he says, stopping a passing member of the flight crew. “Do we have to wear these for the whole flight?” he asks, indicating his face mask.

“I’m afraid so, but you can remove it if you’re eating or drinking,” she replies.

“I guess we should order some drinks then,” he says.

****

As he talks, you catch yourself watching his lips and you subconsciously run your hand through your hair. You’re both several drinks deep now and you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sat like this, heads together, talking in confidential tones in the darkness.

Every now and then he leans a little closer and that playful look in his green eyes causes your stomach to flip. Although I suppose that could just be the turbulence, you think.

This close, you can smell his coconut shampoo and hear the chinking of his various beads and trinkets as he ruffles his hair. When it’s your turn to talk, you catch him snatching glances at your lips, his smile travelling to his eyes as you swap funny stories about shared acquaintances.

“So have you always been a nervous flyer?” he asks, sipping his drink.

“No, I used to enjoy flying, but it’s just got worse over the years,” you say, your face beginning to warm from the effects of the alcohol. “Actually,” you say, leaning your head closer to his conspiratorially, “I’ve always had this thing…” You stop yourself, suddenly aware of how unguarded you’re being: “No, I can’t say.”

“Oh, go on, tell me,” he says, in a low voice, shifting his body towards you in his seat.

“No, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head and half-covering your eyes shyly with your hand. You must be a bit drunk, otherwise you wouldn’t even consider telling him this.

“Come on,” he begs, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the plane.

“Ok, fine,” you say, whispering now, “I’ve always wanted to…,” you pause as the flight attendant passes your seats, “I’ve always kinda wanted to do it on an aeroplane,” you say eventually, cringing at yourself.

His thick eyebrows rise immediately at the revelation and his face breaks into a wide smile.

“Really?” he says, excitedly.

He looks around the plane for a second, then turns to you again.

“Well, in completely unrelated news,” he says quietly, trailing his fingers along the flesh above the cuff of your boot, “I’m going to head to the toilet. I’ll be using that one right there, just in case you need to know for any reason,” he adds, pointing to the bathroom at the head of the plane.

He rises now, giving you a wink.

“You’re not serious?” you ask, in a hushed voice. But he only bobs his eyebrows in response as he opens the door and shuts it behind him. The light comes on above, indicating that it is occupied, and you just sit there, your heart racing in your chest now, blood rushing to your face.

You look around the plane. Only a couple of reading lights illuminate the cabin and most of the occupants are now asleep.

Oh my God, this is madness. You’re not actually considering this? You’ll be caught. You’ll be arrested. Imagine what the press will say.

You undo your seatbelt and step into the aisle, the pounding in your chest travelling to your ears.

This is crazy, you think, walking up to the toilet door. You rap quietly on it and for a second you wonder if perhaps this is some cruel prank he’s playing on you. How will you react when you call his bluff? I was only kidding, I’m not really going to shag you in an aeroplane toilet, mate. Haha, so funny.

He opens the door and pulls you inside, locking the door behind you.

“Thank God, for a second there I thought you were going to leave me hanging,” he says, pulling you close and connecting his mouth with yours.

One of his hands wraps in your hair while the other pushes your skirt up over your ass. He grabs it and pulls you even closer, pressing his erection against you. His kiss is intense, frenzied even, devouring you while his hands press your body into his.

The tiny room fills with the sound of heavy breathing as his mouth explores yours, then moves to your neck.

“Wait,” you whisper, catching your breath, “what if we get caught.”

He pulls away and looks at you: “I know, right?” he says, flashing you a wicked smile.

And then his lips are on yours again, his hands travelling underneath your clothes. He tears your sweater off over your head, diving his face between the lacy cups of your bra, grabbing you, biting your breast through the thin material.

Now his hand is travelling down, hitching your skirt around your waist, dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His lips meet your ear as his fingers circle your clit: “I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since Nancy’s party,” he whispers, slipping his fingers inside you. He smiles: “Oh, you dirty bitch, you’re so fucking wet,” he says, finding your mouth again and wrapping his tongue around yours.

He lifts you up to perch you on the edge of the sink, fucking you with his fingers while his mouth roams around your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

It’s all happening so quickly you barely have time to find your breath, let alone think about what you’re doing.

You wrap one arm around him, plunging your hand into his soft curls, reaching down with your other hand to grasp his cock over his sweatpants. As you palpate him with your fingers, it only spurs him on.

“I can’t fucking wait to fuck you,” he says, pulling your head back by your hair and exposing your neck to his greedy mouth.

You place your foot on the lid of the toilet and drag his sweater over his head, pulling his torso close to yours.

“We have to be quick,” you hiss, conscious of the very real risk of being caught. Your heart pounds inside your chest, like a prisoner banging desperately against the bars of a cell.

You grab the waistband of his pants now, tugging them down roughly, freeing his cock. It springs into your hand, firm and eager.

He runs his hand up your leg: “I fucking love these boots,” he says into your ear, bringing his hand up your thigh and over your ass. With his other hand, he pulls your underwear to one side and enters you, filling you with his cock.

“Jesus, you feel so fucking good,” he growls in your ear, holding your body tightly to his as he begins to thrust inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your fist to silence yourself.

Fast, duelling breaths become the only sound inside the cubicle. You cling to his body and dig both fists into his hair, meanwhile his hands wrap around your ass, drawing you closer with every thrust.

You pull his face up and look into his eyes as you fuck each other, panting wordlessly. Then he kisses you again, his tongue searching for yours.

Your mind races: He’s fucking you in this bathroom and there’s dozens of people on the other side of the door. If you’re caught, you’ll be in so much trouble. The police will be called when you land, you’ll be handcuffed, everyone will know what you did…

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you gasp, through clenched teeth, trying your best not to scream.

He groans and you feel him coming too, his fingers digging into your ass as he deepens his thrusts.

“Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop,” you plead pitifully.

You claw at his back as your orgasm peaks, white hot adrenaline filling your veins. Every nerve in your body snaps and fizzes and you float thousands of feet above the earth, coming back down gently, like a falling feather, aided now by the gentle rocking of his hips.

You hold each other for a second, trying hard to regain your breath. Then the silence of the bathroom is broken by your laughter, then his, your bodies shaking together with liberating vibrations.

****

“You go first, give me a second to fix myself up,” you say as he pulls up his pants and slips his sweater back on, giving you one last furtive kiss before he unlocks the door and slips back into the cabin.

When you leave a minute or so later, you meet eyes with a glamorous older woman sitting in the seat nearest the bathroom, her eyebrow curling in the direction of the sky as she looks you up and down. You avert your eyes, feeling the blood rush to your face as you retake your seat.

He leans his head into yours: “I think the woman in 1E is onto us,” he whispers as you sink down beside him.

****

You lift your eye mask and see him sitting under the reading light, his head in his book.

“I can’t sleep,” you whine, sitting up in the reclining seat.

“Yeah, me neither, I gave up trying,” he replies.

“Do you want to watch a film?” you ask, offering him one of your headphones and adjusting the seat.

“Yeah, ok,” he says, closing his book and snuggling down under the blanket next to you.

You pick something at random, some vapid romcom that will ideally allow you to drift off for the last few hours of the flight.

“I auditioned for this part,” you tell him, your head resting on his chest. “Didn’t get it, obviously.”

“Really?” he says, lifting his chin slightly to look at you.

“Yeah, apparently the girl who got it was dating the director at the time,” you say, yawning.

“Well, you know what it’s like. It’s not what you know, but who you know, and who you’re willing to sleep with,” he says.

You snap your head up: “What the fuck does that mean?” you hiss at him, trying hard not to raise your voice.

“I didn’t mean you, obviously,” he says, fumbling for his words.

“You think I fucked someone to get this job?” you ask him, your eyes narrowing.

“No, no, I didn’t say that,” he says defensively.

“You think I fucked you for some ulterior motive?” you ask, sitting up in the seat now and glaring at him angrily.

“Well, Jesus, I hope not...” he says, his brow furrowing.

“I think you should go back to your seat now,” you say.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean you,” he says, pleadingly. But you’re not listening. You throw two of your pills down your throat and pull your eye mask back over your face, rolling over in your seat with your back to him.

Stupid twat, you think.

He sighs loudly and rises from the seat.

“Touchy cow,” he mutters as he heads back to the other side of the plane.

****

“And here is the key to your suite. As you are spending the mandatory 14-day self-isolation period with us, please remember not to leave the room unless there is an emergency,” says the hotel receptionist as she scribbles quickly on your registration card.

“N-n-n-n-no,” you say, wagging your finger at the receptionist. “Not suite. Suites PLURAL. There should be two, one for him and one for me,” you say tetchily, indicating to him as he stands beside you at the desk.

The receptionist shrugs helplessly: “I don’t know what to tell you, madam. I’m only seeing a booking for one here on the system.”

“Well, check it again, there must be some mistake,” you say, irritation rising audibly in your voice.

“Madam, I don’t need to check it again, this is our last available room, I’m afraid,” she says.

You become aware of him turning towards you with a smirk, watching you with amusement as you feel your temper beginning to rise.

You plaster on a fake smile. You're not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your shit.

“No problem, I’ll just make a quick call and get this all straightened out,” you say through gritted teeth.

****

“I’m sorry, darling, but that’s the best the production company could come up with,” says Lynda, your agent, down the phone.

“Lynda, I’m a reasonable person, I can share a suite with someone, but why does it have to be with him?” you plead.

“What are you talking about? Everyone loves him, you’re the only person I know who has a problem with him.”

“He’s an arsehole, Lynda,” you say emphatically.

“Look, this job is a really big opportunity for you. I don’t want you to blow this by being… yourself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” you shriek down the phone.

“Darling, you know I love you, but you have to admit you can be a bit of a.. well, you know…”

“A bit of a what, Lynda?”

“A BIT OF A DIVA, ok? You can be a real spoiled brat sometimes and kind of a hothead. Just suck it up. It’s only two weeks. Just put on a smile and be nice.”

With that, she hangs up the phone, leaving you standing there in the hotel lobby, mouth agape, speechless, furious and frustrated.

****

“No luck?” he says with a smug grin, leaning against a pillar near the front desk.

“After careful consideration, I’ve decided that I am willing to let you share my suite, just to make things easier for everyone,” you say.

“How gracious of you,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I think so, yes,” you reply, snatching the key card from his hand and striding to the elevator.

“This is going to be a fun two weeks,” he mumbles, following you to the door.

Read Part 2 here | Read Part 3 here

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

innocence - 25

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: smut (18+)

A/N: me to me “you shall not write smut. BEHAVE” also me “mILE HIGH CLUB”. 2021 barely started and i already need jesus. also rip me attempting to post this before christmas but hey i refuse to let christmas end bc christmas is my only hope and love and it’s over.

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky was the first one up as the clock struck 5AM. He was anxious for the flight, for everything really. Y/N had assured him she had bought first class tickets so he’d be comfortable with the long trip but he was still reticent about flying. As an Avenger he used to do national missions, preferring not to fly as it brought him some memories he didn’t like to relieve. Sam had suggested he took some sleeping pills while the flight was going but Bucky refused not to be there to support Y/N who’d been getting called by her team 24/7 about her “mishap” as her manager like to refer to. As if a 20-something dating was something weird. Bucky knew Steve did way worse things than that but of course, she had stepped off the line, off the good girl, virgin ‘til marriage, girl next door yet just gorgeously unattainable and if Y/N hadn’t told him to stay out of it, he would’ve threatened everyone.

Anyway, other than flying he kept wondering about her family. Y/N had a big family, at least more family than he had and he wasn’t entirely sure how they would react to him. Bucky knew he wasn’t the type of man you’d like your daughter to bring in. Who’d want to say that their daughter was dating an assassin? No one. He had wanted to say no, he wanted her to have a nice holiday but looking at her there was no denying her.

Y/N woke up half an hour later, extending her arm towards Bucky’s side only to feel the cold of the sheets on her side. She rose her torso, rubbing the sleep off her eyes before the blurry room became clear. He was sat on the big armchair, staring at the flight tickets.

- Someone’s an early bird. - she leaned on the bed, hands under her chin as he gave her his charming smile. - Excited?

- Nervous. - he rose from his chair to kiss her forehead. - Do you need anything, princess?

- Just need to get dressed. - she lazily got up from her bed. - You’re gonna love it, Buck. There’s snow on the ground, we can get spiced mulled tea and go see the decorations at the West End.

- I’m sure I will. Now get dressed unless you plan on going to the airport in your underwear.

- I don’t see you complaining. - she flirted, hips moving side to side as she opened his wardrobe to grab her burgundy long sleeve dress and pair of black flats. Bucky tried his best not to ogle at her and her figure in a matching black set of star motif bra and panties with garters to see through black stockings. Sometimes he had to slap himself to convince himself the woman standing in front of him actually liked him. - You’re okay with going, right?

- Of course, princess. Whatever makes you happy.

- Okay but what makes you happy? We don’t need to go if you don’t feel comfortable.

- Just regular meeting the parents nerves. - he pulled her hair away from her face to kiss her forehead.

- Based on the photos Rebecca has, I would say you’ve met enough parents not to be nervous anymore.

- Come here, you little minx. - he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her in close to him. - I will have you know that I never met any of the girls’ parents. It was not a good thing for a lady to be seen alone with a man in my time, so we had to keep it a secret.

- Mhm, were you destroying ladies’ reputations in your day, Mr. Barnes? Is that it?

- Not my fault they couldn’t resist me. - he leaned down to kiss her but she turned her face away, naughty smile on her lips. - Don’t do that to me, princess. It’ll break my tiny heart.

- Stop playing Romeo and grab your bags before we’re late. - she swung her hips side to side to grab her own cary on, a small matte black suitcase with her initials on the bottom left in a small size.

Bucky followed her into the airport. He couldn’t seriously remember the last time he had been in an airport, maybe during his youth but right now everything seemed so different yet he didn’t feel scared. He looked to his right and there she was, holding his hand as the other pulled her trolley, dark sunglasses on to hide who she was but still sporting that smile that was truly hers, something he could pick out of a crowd. He never really liked the word or feeling of possession, neither did she, but they didn’t really mind the feeling that a ship’s rope held both their hands together in a nautical strong knot. It was that sort of feeling that disconnected them both from what surrounded them, the sound of echoed and at the same time murmured silence. Y/N didn’t mind, Bucky didn’t mind. The flashlights went by dim and the announcements went mute for both of them.

Y/N however did not like airports. For her, airports signified goodbyes, harmful and painful goodbyes those were you wave goodbye to your loved ones and walk into security checks with tears lodged in her throat, telling herself to put herself together as she approached the beginning of that line. It represented waving goodbye to her comforts to travel somewhere she was not happy, not that her life in the US after she left the UK didn’t made her happy, it did but it was a faux happiness. It was locked inside a bought apartment with people who didn’t or refused to understand her, with friends she loved and cared for but didn’t really check on her them too lost on their own lives, it was yearning for a love that took years to come and everyone told her it would come but never did. It was an odd feeling being at the airport but being with Bucky twisted that. It was no longer leaving loved ones, it was departing with them, it was leaving all the mess that haunted her behind yet she couldn’t help feeling like something lingered in the wind, some cut throating emotions and actions which would return to her.

She decided not to dwell on it, smiling at Bucky as he picked some snacks to bring inside the plane besides her telling him they probably would have the peanut M&Ms rather than his beloved chocolate only ones. She watched him as someone watched something that reminded them of a childhood memory or something that touched them, with a tinge of sadness, almost knowing it would never happen again. She felt tied to him but she felt at any time this knot could worn out and she feared he would leave. Things fade, nothing lasts forever and she wondered when he would realise that he was dating a ticking time bomb controlled by others. She had control over her own heart but her face, her reputation, that would never be hers to control.

- Y/N? - he laid his hand on top of her shoulder. - Are you okay, princess?

- Yeah, just thinking. - she handed the lady the tickets, holding Bucky’s hand as he led her inside the airplane.

Y/N was lucky to be used to first class, she spent in life in it but for Bucky it was a jarring new experience. His parents used to be well off, better than most however they were never well enough to afford flying anywhere. The closest he’d been to flying was in military helicopters but all his experience to commercial flying had been watching on magazines but even this looked so different. It looked like a perfect first class bedroom in a five star hotel with individual little places for each passenger and some for couples which he guessed was one for the two of them. As they approached their cabin, a polished dressed lady signalled them inside their own seats. She looked at Bucky who had star filled eyes as he noticed all the comfort of his seat.

- Is this how you travel? - he sat down by the window, looking at the small bottles of water, juices and fun sized treats. - Now I know why you travel so much. It’s like a damn hotel room here.

- Peanut M&M’s. - she grabbed one of the snacks from his side. - I believe you’ll be donating those to me.

- That’s a travesty, princess. I cannot believe you prefer those with peanuts

- Peanuts are great.

- Unless you’re allergic to them.

- You’re not allergic to peanuts. Steve would’ve told me if you were and I saw you eat a peanut energy bar yesterday. - she crossed her arms.

- First, I hate peanuts so it’s almost as if I were allergic to them. Second, KIND bars don’t count, you know how good they are, they add that little caramel drizzle.

- I guess we’re gonna have more than my nephews and nieces for a picky eater this Christmas. - she laughed, picking the remote to shuffle through whatever the company offered. Bucky leaned on her shoulder, leaving a kiss on it right before he did. - Thank you for coming with me.

- That’s not a problem, princess. Besides, who would guard you if I were not to come?

- Is this overtime then, Mr. Barnes? - she looked down at him, his childish yet charming smile whenever he meant to tease her which he so easily could do both meanings of the word. - We should prepare for take off.

It couldn’t be too different from take off in the quinjet. Bucky had done it once after the train incident but it always brought him back to it. He wasn’t like this and it pained him that the slightest of turbulences in any travels now made him feel like a kid. He didn’t use to be like this, he was fearless, going on the Cyclone time and time again and now ... now he was a shell of a man afraid of take off. He shouldn’t be afraid, it was not his role, right? He knew things were different then and were different now but he always wanted to be strong, strong for her as if any insecurity would throw her away. He knew it didn’t, Bucky knew Y/N was there to stick around and didn’t care about what the war and HYDRA had done to him but he cared. Bucky wanted to be her hero, her safe harbour and with this ...

His mind shattered into snowflakes as she held his hand, the captain’s voice muffled as the plane gathered speech. Y/N never hand cold hands or a cold touch, she was just warm, a little ray of sunshine burning his icy exterior and forcing him to see the beauty of winter. Bucky clearly mostly got distracted by her own beauty but her holding his hand, the rings on her fingers which she had gathered from little shops along the street against his hand, made him want to remove the dagger he had stuck on himself so he could feel pain forevermore.

The plane move upwards, both of them being pulled against their seats by the laws of physics on an endless climb and he still had his eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

- Buck. - her finger caressed his jaw. - Look out the window.

Bucky peaked open one of his eyes, looking out the window near him to see a full blue sky, completely different from the dark skies of the winter filled New York they had just left.

- We fly above the clouds. Isn’t it beautiful? - she leaned against his shoulder.

- You see this everytime?

- Unless I’m flying at night, yeah. Sunsets and risings are particularly stunning.

- Now what?

- Now we wait for round 6 to 7 hours. We can put a movie on, maybe. Whatever you’d like.

Bucky took to shuffling through the movie catalogue himself. Some of the movies he’d never heard about and some he’d heard from Sam or from Steve’s list of movies he had to watch yet he never did. Capitan America himself stuck to the old classics, the movies they used to sneak through the backdoor of the theatre. He himself liked the classics too and Y/N, as a film/acting major herself, also had a soft spot for them. Bucky’s favourite was the Wizard of Oz, despite later knowing how controversial filming had been, yet he couldn’t help but always remember the wonder on his sister’s face and his own wonder as he watched the vivid colours. He could still feel it now, however the movie ended and soon the food came in and he found himself bored. There wasn’t much he could do on a plane and he found himself jealous of the 5 year old running up and down the cabin, despite most of Y/N’s laughter.

He covered himself in the company’s blanket and snuggled against the pillow and still he couldn’t sleep. Y/N on the other hand had fallen asleep the moment she pulled the leg rest, wrapped around in her blanket, face facing his which gave Bucky the excuse to look at her while she slept. Bucky always found it wildly amusing how she slept, lips slightly puckered, eyes fluttering until she fell in deep and hands fisting the blanket up to her chin. Eventually, Bucky got frustrated, moving around in his seat to find a comfortable position. How come he couldn’t find a comfortable position on a first class seat?

- Buck ... - she groaned, opening her eyes. - Stop moving around.

- I’m sorry, princess. I’m just ... so bored. How do you do this?

- I sleep. - she placed the blanket on her lap. - Why don’t you get something else to eat?

- How many hours left?

- You don’t wanna know. - she rubbed the sleep of her eyes, Bucky still laid against his seat, blanket on his lap, head against the head rest. Y/N started thinking about how to entertain him until her gaze fell onto his lap. Looking around the cabin was quiet, no cabin crew or passengers on their feet, just a calm cabin.

She moved closer to him, head against her shoulder, facade of a glistening angel on a renaissance painting. Her fingers traced the soft finish of his blanket, the embodied company name until her fingers were under the soft fabric. She slide her hand under his shirt, feeling his warm skin as her hand travelled downwards towards the Hugo Boss boxers he wore, fingers hooking on the waistband. Bucky swallowed dry, wondering if he had finally gone to sleep and this was finally a good dream or if his sweet, innocent girlfriend was actually about to do what his mind was rushing to as her fingers wrapped around his softened member. He grunted, looking at her like she was a fever dream, hips mindlessly thrusting into her soft warm hand. He would say there was no better feeling, had it not been for the fact he had been inside of her.

Y/N bite her lip, insecurely swiping her thumb over the tip, his pre cum dripping onto it. She didn’t know what she was doing, mostly going by the erotica she had read and seen before, guiding herself by his low sounds, mumbled by his own hand which laid against his own mouth. She looked up at him, cerulean eyes looking at the ceiling as if all his strength would break loose were he to look at her and she thought that was the most gorgeous he’d look. She straight herself up, pushing his hand away from his mouth to start kissing him, something which would look rather innocent to anyone who passed by. Her kiss was warm, hot and sinful, much more different than the shy ones she would lay on him each morning yet he guessed it matched with her movements, fast and tighter against his cock. He tried to remain still, allow her to do what she wanted to do but his body had a different idea, hips thrusting and gyrating against her hand like some idiot teenager as her mouth lowered to kiss his pulse point. His breathe quickened, coming into staccatto as her movement quickened. The environment was blurry and all he could think about and hear were her movements and his body shuddering until he was spurting thick ropes of white liquid onto her hand and his breathe came out knocked as if he had finished a race.

She cleaned her palm with a tissue, bringing her fingers up to her cherry tinted lips from her chapstick, disappearing within the plumpness of them. He swore he could cum again just from that sight. As he tried to regain his breathe from the latter event, she gave him a shy smile, pushing her blanket up to her chin. Whatever she did to him, whatever release she had given him had made him comfortable enough on that cloud nine that sent him into sleeping, only awaking once the plane wheels hit British soil.

It was dark, around 9PM the captain had said and Bucky himself thought the trip was over until both of them disembarked onto the airport which was a completely different world. Had it not been by Y/N’s unwillingness to spend more time in an airport, he would’ve possibly stood behind taking pictures yet once she spotted a man with a sheet with her name written in, she had his hand on hers and dragged him up to it.

Bucky had been in London, he remembered it from the war and some buildings were the same yet everything was brighter. His eyes shone against the decorations, wondering how bigger they could get and Y/N took great pleasure in seeing him so happy. All she wanted was to make him happy, all she wanted was to see him happy. The taxi driver stopped in front of her childhood home which gladly always seemed to look the same with christmas lights and garlands. Both of them step out the car and the nerves finally hit Bucky. How do you meet someone’s parents? How do you meet the person who just gave you a handjob’s parents and make a good impression? How could he make a good impression? He was a hundred year old never aging man with a metal arm dating the little rose that everyone put on an altar. He didn’t belong. Maybe he could stop her, maybe he could convince her not to ring the bell except she was already ringing the bell and the door was opening up.

A short woman in a white jumper and jeans opened the door. She had Y/N’s eyes, the same eyes Bucky would recognise anywhere and based by the tight hug she gave Y/N, he would guess she was his mother.

- Mum, this is Bucky. - she held Bucky’s hand. What should he do? Should he wave?

- Oh my, you’re tall. I thought that with a nickname like that you’d be small. Oh, here I am again rambling. We are so happy here, you know, you’re the first man Y/N brings home.

- Mum!

- What? It’s true. You’re my oldest child and only now have you brought a man. Aunt Petunia is really proud of you.

- Mum!

- Come in, Bucky. Can I call you Bucky? Come meet the family.

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hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

BAD FRIENDS ; MIN YOONGI ; ONE

↪ PAIRING: reader x yoongi / reader x seokjin ↪ GENRE: friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, 90s!au, college!au, angst, smut, hurt, comfort, FLUFF ↪ SUMMARY: hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

↪ WARNINGS: TW! mentions of alcohol&physical abuse, yoongi’s dad is a terrible human, minor descriptions of violence, smut, explicit sex, recreational drug use, but despite that there is a lot of love and fluff, so much pining between these two idiots in luv

↪ WORD COUNT: 20k (it’s a big one!!!)

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It Began As A Mistake

The shared wall between your houses is far too thin, you often think. You hear a lot of what you’re not supposed to. The mask the Min family next door displays to the world is shattered for you every night when the raised voices and banging starts.

You expect Yoongi will be requesting your company soon, if the shouting and screaming through the wall tonight is any indication to go by. It’s a pattern that has become more frequent, especially as of late, but has been going on for as long as you could remember.. It’s routine now.

Not that you mind. Yoongi is your closest friend. The longest relationship you’ve had with any other human being (aside from your parents) is the one you share with Yoongi. You met him the day you moved in next door at the tender age of eight. He had been playing in his front yard, throwing and catching a basketball against a hoop attached to the brick wall of his house. You don’t remember much about the first meeting other than laughing at his enormous oversized shirt that reached his knees.

According to your mother, it was a fast friendship. By the end of that first day you had proudly declared to her that Yoongi was your bestsest frien. She always recalls the story with a fond smile on her face, given how much she adores him. As an only child, Yoongi was like the brother you never had. And that’s how the relationship continued. Innocent and almost sibling-like.

Until it wasn’t.

The memory of the first time you slept together is hazy. You don’t know exactly who initiated the first move but in the moment it made sense, as if it was the right thing to do. Yoongi had snuck out, climbed in your bedroom window as he usually did when he wanted to escape his turbulent home life and made himself at home in your room.

He had never been particularly vocal when it came to expressing his emotions. That was just Yoongi; silent, stoic, strong. It was only with you that he would allow himself to even be marginally vulnerable. Occasionally the veil would slip ever so slightly and you’d get a peek of the turmoil underneath and every time you did, you wanted to take that pain away from him any way you could.

So when you held him in your arms and he murmured into the skin of your neck how much you meant to him, you knew you would do anything for him. Which is why when his lips found yours you kissed him back. When he slowly removed every item of clothing you wore, you let him. When he fucked you on your childhood bed, slowly and purposefully, you granted him access to your body. Whatever Yoongi wanted, you allowed him to take from you.

If it meant bringing some happiness and light into his life, it was worth it. You loved him, after all.

As if on cue, you hear a quiet tap on your window. You look up from the book that you were unsuccessfully trying to distract yourself with to see Yoongi, peering at you underneath a mop of shaggy black hair. When you notice him he gives you the briefest of smiles, but you can see in his eyes he’s anything but happy.

“Figured you’d be over soon.” You say quietly as you push the window open to let him in. “He’s bad tonight, huh?”

You were referring to Yoongi’s father. The center of the hurricane of chaos that is the Min family. Mr Min had a serious drinking problem, and whenever he had one too many it was like he transformed into someone else entirely. Mrs Min and Yoongi took the brunt of his wrath. Although Yoongi never outright said it, you had long since deduced the violence his father inflected. Mrs Min had ‘walked into a door’ too many times for you to count.

“He’s an asshole.” Yoongi mutters, kicking off his sneakers. “I waited until he passed out, there’s no way I would leave that monster alone with Mom.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask, scooching over to make space for him on the bed beside you. He shakes his head ‘no’ as he flops face down on the mattress. Rarely does he want to open up. He lays on his front, head resting on the back of his palms. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You rub his back affectionately.

“You should be, I cut my hand climbing up the trellis.” His muffled voice replies. “Maybe invest in a rope ladder for me.”

“Noted. Now let me see your hand.”

Yoongi allows you to look at the small cut on his hand. It’s nothing serious but you go and fetch a plaster from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom anyway. On your way back to your room you pause outside your parents bedroom and listen. Their television is off, which means they must be asleep. As much as they love Yoongi, catching him in your room after hours would probably not go down well.

“Thanks.” Yoongi mumbles once the band aid is secured. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He asks quietly.

“You don’t need to ask” You tell him this every time, but he never listens. Instead he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. He may not pour his heart out to you but his need for affection, for love, is clear when he holds you like this.

“I had such a shitty night.” He says into your skin, face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles. “Just wanna forget it.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Wanna forget everything that’s not you right now.”

Your stomach involuntarily somersaults at his words. He’s not romantically interested in you.. You know this.. He’s your best friend. In the two years you’ve been sleeping together you’ve worked hard to keep any feelings at bay, but when he says things like that, your heart races. Your phisiolocical reaction betrays your head.

It’s not the same for Yoongi and you know that. He doesn’t get butterflies. He’s just blowing off steam. It is why you constantly remind yourself about the reality of the situation. It’s just sex. If you even allow yourself to think otherwise for a moment you’ll get carried away and that can only mean one thing; the end of your friendship.

He leads you back to the bed, laying you down on the mattress before his lips are on yours. Yoongi is a phenomenal kisser, a fact you're reminded of when he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue in your mouth. It’s slow and passionate, something you’ve grown to love about his kissing style. He knows just how much to give and take.

You’re hot all over from his touch. His roaming hands caress your body, his touch gradually growing more desperate. It’s heavy breathing and grinding and intense. Like he can’t get close enough to you. “Yoongi,” You pant as he pulls your shirt up and over your head.

“Hmm sweetheart?” He asks distractedly, eyes on your now naked breasts. The pet names only ever come out during sex. Leaning forward he cups them in his hand, kissing all over your chest. He takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, sending electricity straight down your spine. His mouth is sinful.

“I-I don’t have a - “ You moan a little when you feel his clothed hardness press between your legs as he moves to your other breast. Your hands fly to his hair, anchoring him to your chest.“Yoongi, I don’t have any condoms.” You manage to get out.

He carries on what he’s doing but hums against your flesh, “Did we finish that pack already?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as he kisses his way down your navel. Yoongi hooks his thumbs in your shorts and drags them, along with your panties, down your legs. He kneels between your thighs and grips an ankle in each hand, bending your legs up and outwards and open. “I meant to pick some up.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi replies, once again distracted as he settles down on his chest between your spread thighs. Most of your hook ups begin this way. He reads your body so well now, after two years of doing this together he has every tip and trick down to a science. Spit sloppy kisses land on the soft meat of your inner thigh before his tongue makes it way in between your lower lips making your breath hitch.

He loves having his hair tugged and pulled whenever he’s eating you out, so your hands wind themselves through his dark locks. He grunts at the contact but still takes his time even as you tug on his hair, encouraging him. “God, Yoongi.” You whine quietly and breathlessly. “Feels amazing.”

His hands hook underneath your thighs, legs resting over his shoulder,, pulling your mound closer to him as his tongue begins to flick faster against your clit. It’s so hard to be quiet when he plays your body like this. You clutch at the sheets beneath you and a pillow simultaneously in a hopeless attempt at remaining silent.

“Look at you,” Yoongi breaks away, peering up at you through his bangs. There’s a dark desire in his eyes and your arousal on his lips. You can’t help but wonder if he loves the control aspect of making you feel good. “I can tell you’re barely holding it together. Fuckin’ needy for me. Do you want to cum like this? Or with my fingers too?”

“No.” You whisper and he quirks a skeptical brow. “I want to cum with you inside me Yoongi.”

“We don’t have condoms.” He reminds you, languidly licking a stripe up your pussy, eliciting a shudder out of you. He slips one arm back underneath your leg so fingers can toy with the outline of your entrance. “As much as I’d love to feel you...I’ll get some tomorrow for us.”

You let a muffled cry as he slips a finger inside of your wet heat, curling it expertly. “A-ah, Yoon -” You gasp as he pumps it slowly. “I’m on birth control.”

His motions come to a frustrating hault. “Since when?”

You had been on it for a while, not because you were having a lot of casual sex but just for your the sake of your period (something you didn’t feel like would particularly interest your best friend). Yoongi and you had long since established practicing safe sex so you carried on using condoms. “A few months.”

“Are you...are you with other people?” He asks and you can’t believe he’s asking this with his fingers literally inside you.

“Yoongi I’ve never been with anyone other than you.” You inform him quietly. He’d never known that he was the one who took your virginity. At the time you were so embarrassed to be the only one of your friend group still carrying their v-card, though looking back that was such a ridiculous thing to worry about.

“Really? Not even Jimi - “

“Don’t even say his name to me.” You cut him off abruptly. Jimin had been your boyfriend when you were a teenager, who ended up cheating on you. “No. Are we going to do this because I’m slowly starting to get turned off here.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gives you that same lopsided smile that makes your heart thud. Slowly he leans down to reattach his mouth to your still hyper sensitive clit before resuming fucking you with his fingers. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been with too.” He mumbles so quietly you almost miss it if it wasn’t the tickle of his hot breath against your sensitive flesh.

For some reason that turns you on more, knowing that this moment, this feeling, you’d only ever shared with each other.

Your tightening around him, walls clenching as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath enough to whine, “Yoongi I’m close, please stop, please, please let me cum on your cock.”

He pulls away with a smirk. “How could I say no when you beg so prettily?”

Yoongi reluctantly tears away from you and stands briefly to shed his clothing. They’re tossed uncaringly to the floor before he crawls over you, wedging himself in between your legs. When his bare cock brushes against your hot cunt you shiver. It’s electric, raw and thrilling at the same time. You can practically feel yourself dripping on to the sheets below.

Your lips brush together, before he whispers a warning with a laugh, “I’m probably going to cum really quick.”

“You better not.” You tease, closing the distance between your mouths with a searing kiss. Yoongi continues lapping at your mouth as one hand nudges your thighs apart a little wider. He grips the base of his cock, lining it up at your entrance before dipping the head of it in painstakingly slowly.

“Ok?” He breathes against your cheek as he inches the rest of himself in slowly. You nod eagerly. When he’s sheathed all the way inside of you he groans, a little too loudly for your liking.

“Yoongi!” You whisper shout, clamping a hand against your mouth. “Be quiet!”

He licks the inside of your palm and you squeal at the ticklish sensation, yanking your hand away which was his goal. “Now who's the loud one?” He tries to joke but his voice is deeper, hoarser, husky, like he’s trying to hold back from just pounding you into the mattress.

“Move, Yoongi.” You nudge your hips upward slightly, desperate to feel him,, causing him to bite down on his lip in pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good.” He whispers in your ear as he slowly begins to rock his hips against you. “So fuking wet, so fucking warm.” He keeps his face next to the shell of your ear. “So tight for me sweetheart.”

He rests on his forearms as he begins to pick up speed. Together, after all the practice you’ve engaged in, you’ve both long since learned how to fuck quietly in your bedroom. Tonight however Yoongi seems to be losing himself more than usual. Both of you stop instantly the second your headboard hits the wall with a thud, staring at each other in fear.

After a few tense moments of waiting to ensure no one in your household has woken, Yoongi mutters a low apology before carrying on thrusting.

“I’m close, Yoongi.” You whisper, pushing his chest up slightly so you’re able to reach down to your neglected clit. The other hand finds purchase on his shoulder. “Ohhhh,” You moan squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel Yoongi’s dark gaze on your face. Knowing he’s watching is undeniably hot.

“Baby cum for me,” He pants. “Please, I’m so close. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up. I’m gonna cum in you, claim you, make you all mine.”

You’re not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying but it does the trick and you feel that tightly wound coil deep within you let go, and you’re coming hard around his cock. He’s gasping and swearing when he follows seconds later, slowly grinding against you to a stop.

He all but collapses against you. His skin is hot and sweaty and sticks against yours. In other scenarios it would be disgusting but you relish in it, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He tastes salty and sweet.

“Shit, that felt too good.” He chuckles breathlessly after a few moments. “I’m sorry it was so quick.”

“I loved it.”

He’s still panting when he pulls out,, rolling onto his back next to you. “What?” He asks when you start to giggle.

“Your cum is leaking out of me and it tickles.” You grab his hand and put it between your thighs. “Feel.”

“You’re gross.” He laughs but you know he doesn’t mean it when he pecks you on the cheek shortly after.

“I’m going to go clean up.” You inform him, as you awkwardly dress and make your way to the bathroom.

When you return once again Yoongi’s semi dressed and partially under the duvet cover, patting the mattress signaling for you to join him. You clamber into bed beside him and he instantly wraps his arms around you with a yawn. “I set your alarm.” He tells you.

This is standard routine for you two so he’s able to sneak back out again undetected in the morning. You nod against his chest. As he stretches across you and flicks the bedside lamp off.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm?” You can tell he’s close to sleep already.

“Will you tell me if you sleep with anyone else? I don’t want to go back to condoms but I don’t want an STD.” You shyly share. It would be a shame not to be able to have him again, raw and unrestricted.

“Of course. I’d never put you at risk like that.” He replies sleepily. “You’re my best friend, dummy.”

“You’re the dummy, idiot.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He says. You can tell from his voice he’s smiling.

It’s your last day of high school but unfortunately not the last one of your part time job as a barista at the coffee shop you work at. It’s a nice place, but it’s boring. There’s still three months left until you hopefully are leaving town for the college of your choice (in the city, you hope with all of your fingers and toes crossed for luck). Nothing terrifies you more than being stuck in your hometown. Life is for the living.

After school you head straight for your shift. Normally your shifts pass by pretty quickly but today this one drags in. You know you have a few letters watermarked with the symbols of colleges you applied to waiting at home, courtesy of an excited call from your mom to the shop.

You have little idea what to expect, resulting in an anxiety ridden few hours of work. Driving home it takes everything in you not to speed.

“Here, here, here!” Your excited mother is thrusting a stack of different sized envelopes into your arms. You hadn’t even put your keys down or removed your jacket yet.

“Give me a second, jeez.”

The nerves you feel bubble ominously deep in your gut. You try not to let it read on your face as you shrug your jacket off and toss your keys in the bowl. If anything your mother may be more excited than you.

“Well, open them darling.” She’s practically vibrating with excitement, a wide lipsticked smile stretched across her face.

Taking a deep breath you walk to the living room. You may have to sit down for this.

The first letter is small. The smallest one. The return label indicates that it was from a music school in Incheon. One of the choices higher up on your list. A quick scan reveals - “I got in!!!!” You shout as you stand up. Mom’s cries of joy and affirmation fall on deaf ears as your heart thunders.

By the time you’ve confirmed your acceptance to Yonsei and Seoul National your mother is crying. Last, but certainly not least is the letter to Hangyang Uniersity. Out of all your applications, Hangyang was the only place Yoongi had applied to also. The prospect of potentially going to school with him excited you.

As soon as the black and white printed ink confirms it - we would like to offer you a place on our applied psychology course - you audibly gasp. You can’t wait to tell Yoongi.

Neither Mr or Mrs Min usually arrive home before 8pm. Mr Min is a math teacher, who often works long hours before heading to a bar, whilst Mrs Min is a nurse; so when you bounce out the front door and to the house next door you know Yoongi will be home alone.

“Yoongi!” You singsong before you’ve even reached the door, knowing there’s a chance he may be able to hear you. “Yoongi-yaaa!” You knock obnoxiously on the oak, almost as if you’re tapping out a tune. “I know you’re home, your bike is in the drive!”

The door creaks as it opens, a disheveled Yoongi appearing on the other side. “I was napping.” He grumbles, tousling at his fluffy hair. You can’t help but think he looks adorable.

“Do that later.” You tell him, with a playful eye roll. “I got into Hangyang!”

He barely has time to blink before you’re launching yourself at him, slinging both arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to react before a reluctant arm returns your enthusiastic hug. “That’s great, y/n.” He says into your hair before you seperate.

Yoongi shuts the door behind you both. “And?” You can’t help but ask.

“And what?” He mutters walking past you and to the kitchen. You trail behind like an excited puppy.

“Don’t you ‘and what’ me. What about you? Please tell me you got in too.”

He freezes as he’s reaching for a glass. “I don’t know.”

His words do little to kill your buzz. “What?” You laugh, assuming he’s joking. “Today is the deadline. How can you not know?”

“I just don’t, ok.” He flips on the tap and fills his glass up with water, the entire time keeping his back to you. Something is up, you’ve known Yoongi nearly your entire life. He’s withholding something. He was always the type to act defensively when he was mad, hurt, lying or all of the above.

“Yoongi, we can call the university and find out. Maybe your mail is just late.”

“I don’t want to, y/n.” He says curtly.

“Why?”

“I just don’t!”

“You’re being so weird right now,” You frown. “Don’t you want to find out if we’re going to be going together? We’ve talked about this for years.”

“I’m not being weird. I just don’t know yet.”

“You are.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He groans, slamming his glass on to the counter with enough force that the water sloshes up over the edge.

“Don’t talk to me like that! I have done nothing wrong!”

Finally he spins to face you, a neutral almost bored expression on his face. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I - “ You cut yourself short, feeling a little foolish that he doesn’t seem to be as thrilled at the prospect of going to college with you. He hadn’t brought it up in a while. “I thought - thought you’d be excited. Nevermind.”

At your tone his expression softens. “Y/n, the idea of getting out of here with you sounded amazing.”

“Sounded?”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and stares at the ground. “I can’t go.”

It’s almost as if the air has been sucked rapidly out of the room. “Can’t?” You parrot back. This was the first you’d ever heard of this.

“You know what my situation at home is like. You know better than anyone. I can’t just up and leave.” He’s always hesitant, ashamed when speaking openly about what goes on behind closed doors. Even to you.

“You can, Yoongi.” You go to touch his arm for reassurance but he shrugs you off.

“I can’t.” He grits. “I can’t leave her with him.”

“Yoonseok did.” You counter. It’s a low blow bringing up his older brother but it’s the truth. Yoonseok hightailed it out of there the second he turned sixteen, leaving eleven year old Yoongi to manage his dad alone. Yoongi’s childhood had done a number on him, burdening him in a way no child should ever be.

“Yoonseok was a selfish dick.” He responds darkly, voice dripping with hate. “Without me, or anyone, to intervene my dad will fucking end up killing my mom. We both know it y/n.” Silent and unsure how to respond to such an uncomfortable truth you can only stare sadly at Yoongi. It’s painful to see him sacrifice so much for a family that didn’t deserve it. “I can’t leave her. It’s not safe,”

“I understand Yoongi, I do. But you can’t put your life on hold forever for your parents. At some point you need to get out, not just for your own safety but your sanity.”

“Yeah then come home to a dead mom. Great idea y/n.” He spits. “Don’t be fucking stupid. This is the reality of my situation.”

“I just want what's best for you, stop being an asshole!” You yell.

“You’re being controlling and quite frankly, kind of a cunt.”

You scoff humorlessly in disbelief. “Really Yoongi?! Fuck you. And fuck this.”

Spinning on your heel you march towards the front door. This argument was going nowhere and you would only grow angrier if you remained in the tiny kitchen with him. One glance over your shoulder and you’re met with his glassy eyes watching you leave, the last thing you see before you slam the front door.

Three days later you and Yoongi are still not speaking, equally as stubborn as one another. You know he’s been avoiding you because you haven’t even seen him in passing, a rare thing when your houses share a wall. So you avoid him too. Fuck him for making you feel bad when all you do is adore him, support him, care about him.

He hasn’t even attempted to apologise. If you really try you might be able to hold on to this anger for a week.

That’s the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking. And it was for something so juvenile you can’t even recall it to this day. Also, you were both twelve and kind of dumb. So you figure a week is your limit. That’s the longest you’ll go without talking to Yoongi.

Tonight makes it particularly difficult when you hear a deafening crash and a thud. You pause, mid page turn of a book you were devouring and listen. The silence that follows is deafening.

But then you hear it. The extremely distinct raised voice of Mr Min. It’s unclear exactly what he’s shouting but the tone is enough to send a shiver of fear through your entire body. There’s another raised voice that’s unmistakingly Yoongi. Your heart clenches at the sound of him.

They continue like this for an uncomfortable length of time. You wonder what your parents think about this. Although it’s not a secret in your household you never exactly sit down and chat about what you hear through the walls with them.

When it goes silent you don’t relax. You gaze at the shared wall you know is Yoongi’s bedroom, almost as if your hard stare can penetrate the bricks and mortar. A selfish part of you hopes he comes over tonight, as per routine. You don’t indulge in each other’s bodies every time but you know even just your company is likely the only form of affection Yoongi gets and you want to take care of him any way you can.

This thought takes you to the window, where you unlock the latch, expecting him hopefully soon.

He doesn’t come.

Yoongi lays on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s not the water stain or the old outline of a where playboy poster used to be (he had snuck it out of Yoonseok’s collection and stuck there when he was a kid) that is captivating his attention. It’s the sound of his mom crying in the bathroom next door that’s keeping him awake.

His father had passed out a little while ago, thankfully. But not before smashing a glass dangerously close to his mom’s head and then pushing her so hard against the wall a hole appeared in the drywall. Yoongi had helped his mom clean up a few of the cuts and scrapes before she sent him out of the bathroom, claiming she wanted to wash up before bed. Her crying is breaking his heart.

Selfishly he wishes you could hear this.If you heard this you would understand in a heartbeat why he can’t leave. His mom is vulnerable. He knows you hear some of what occurs through the wall but it’s nothing as devastating as the muffled sobs his mom chokes back. The sound of a broken woman.

It makes him wonder how on Earth Yoonseok could just walk away from this and feel nothing. He hasn’t spoken to his brother since as a result. Through his Grandma he has a vague idea where Yoonseok is (doing odd jobs here and there in the city) but he doesn’t wish to know more than that. Hate is a word he reserves only for his father, but what he feels for Yoonseok is close.

He sighs, emotionally and physically exhausted, as he rolls onto his side. It’s been almost two weeks since he last saw or spoke with you and right now all he wants is to crawl into your bed and hide in you. Bury himself inside you while you clutch at him desperately. A world away from the pain and loveless home he’s trapped in right now.

He wants you so badly to be the bigger person, to be better than him like you always are. To come and find him, to sense that he needs you. He wants it so badly he aches.

Before his key is even in the door, Yoongi knows to anticipate a Bad Night. Not that the typical bad nights are easier but Bad Nights with a capital B and M are worse. He can hear his father before he even sees him and knowing that today was a weekend, and therefore a day off from work for his old man it means he’s been drinking since sun up.

He hesitates, key hovering over the lock. He could just turn away right now and pretend he had to work late. Dealing with his father’s abuse is literally draining the life out of him. For a moment he considers it, really considers it. Then he hears his mom cry out with agony. Yoongi unlocks the door.

“Mom?” He calls out as he crosses the threshold inside.

There’s a wail, followed by a whimper coming from the living room. He follows the sound.

He’s greeted with his dad hovering over his mom who is cowering against the wall, looking smaller and frailer than ever. Something inside Yoongi snaps. With as much force as he can he shoves his father away from her. Drunk and already weary on his feet, the older man stumbles backwards a few steps before falling.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi extends his hand to her. Shakily she places her palm in his and he helps her stand. This does not please his father who is yelling obscenities as he struggles to get to his feet. Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder and he can sense the shift in the room. “Mom, go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. I’m going to talk to Dad.” He says sternly.

“Yoongi,” She cries softly but one look at his expression and she knows how serious he is. Fearfully her eyes flicker to where her husband is, as if he somehow has the final say. It angers Yoongi like nothing else.

By now Mr Min is standing, albeit swaying and his expression is murderous. “You shouldn’t have done that. This has got nothing to do with you stupid boy.”

“Fuck you, old man.”

He isn’t thinking, rage is pulsing through his veins and all he can see is red when he swings a right hook at his father, fist making direct contact with the older man's jaw. Fight or flight instinct kicking in with brute force. He’s never thrown a punch before in his life.

It takes a few dazed seconds for his opponent to recollect himself. His father looks at him with such disgust, almost as if he can’t recognise the boy standing in front of him is his own flesh and blood. Someone he was supposed to raise, protect and guide.

Normally, he knows better than to talk back. Normally, he knows better than to get physical with his dad unless it's in defense of his mother. Normally he knows better. And now, the look in Mr Min’s eyes tell Yoongi one thing; he’s going to severely regret it.

This is your first taste of what feels like a life without Yoongi and it’s bitter.

Fifteen days come and go with no sign from your best friend. The world feels a little emptier without him and it’s a sobering thought, that one day he might not be in your life. This realisation lights a fire under you and you decide to swallow your pride and take the first step towards reconciliation. It’s ridiculous. You and Yoongi don’t fight. It’s both of you against the world, the way it has been since you were kids.

Knowing he’s home alone again (both parents' cars are gone) you slip out of your house and make your way to his. This is probably the first time in your entire life you've ever felt nervous to see Min Yoongi. And not in a good way.

Knock knock.

You’re holding your breath as you wait and listen for signs of life from within the bricks. Silence. You knock again.

Have five minutes passed or fifty? It’s an eternity waiting out here for Yoongi. When you’re about to turn to leave, the front door slowly creaks open. “Y/n?”

When your eyes meet you inhale a sharp breath of air in, shocked. He has an angry black eye, swollen and purple. There’s a cut on his lip and the flesh around it is an inflamed shade of red. You don’t have to ask. You know where this came from.

“Yoongi.” Is all you say before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. It’s a depressing parallel to the last encounter you had with each other. He’s silent but he returns your hold, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as if it’s comforting somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He replies hoarsely.

“I understand why you do what you do for your mom.” You mumble into the soft cotton of his hoodie. “I just want you to be happy is all.”

“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He squeezes you a little tighter, planting a kiss on your head.

“Please don’t ever go that long without talking to me again.” You say separating enough so you can see his face but still very much holding him in your arms. “Especially when things are this bad.” He smiles weakly and holds up a pinky, chipped with black nail polish. You link yours with his.

“Promise.” He assures.

As usual you ask - “Do you want to talk about it?”

He says nothing as he pulls you inside, lacing your hand with his. You think you know where this is going. Yoongi wants to feel loved.

He leads you up the staircase, it groans under the weight of the two of you but otherwise the house is silent. Yoongi’s room is the first one on the upper landing, the mirror of your own bedroom in your house. The door still has a few posters of bands he had once loved and a worn logo sticker of his favorite basketball team.

There’s a small twin bed almost identical to yours, except his is donned with a navy blue bedspread and doesn’t include the small mountain of assorted pillows that yours does. He always teases you about them, often joking he’s going to steal one and that you’d never notice.

It’s quiet still as he leads you to the bed, sitting down first and scooting upwards until his back is flush with the headboard. “We don’t have to do anything.” He says softly as you mimic his actions. “I just missed you.”

Sometimes a person just needs someone to hold them, and you have no problem being that someone for Yoongi. Gently you pull his head to your chest and idly play with his hair, just how he likes. A content sigh parts his lips. “I missed you too.” You tell him. “Do you know how much I wanted to run over here and tell you that Jimin came to my work, ordered a coffee, then tripped and spilled it all over himself?”

Yoongi huffs a little laugh and you’re glad to make him smile. “Wish I’d seen that.”

“Next time don’t be a dick and maybe you could have.” You tease, knowing Yoongi has a penchant for frequenting your work for free coffee and sticking around, especially on slower days. He pinches your side playfully, although still hard enough to make you yelp.

“I’m not a dick.” Although you can’t see his face you can hear the pout in his voice. “You live my life and then let’s see how stressed out you are.”

You were only teasing but his comment causes your heart to sink all the way to your toes. “I know you’re not.” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. “You can lean on me as much as you need. I’m basically your family at this point, Yoon.”

“Family.” He scoffs as if the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “What’s that?”

“People around you who love you.” You tell him firmly. You want to add on ‘i love you’ but the boundaries between you and Yoongi are so blurry now even you don’t know in exactly what context that would mean.

A comfortable silence settles after that. You almost wonder if he has fallen asleep, given the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You don’t know what comes over you but you pick his hand up, lacing your fingers together. He often paints his nails (you have always taunted he’s too goth to be a basketball player) and you’re examining the polish. The black paint is chipped and you stroke his index finger with yours softly.

“What are you doing weirdo?” Yoongi’s voice startles you and you freeze.

“Your nails are totally chipped.”

“Duh. Haven’t had time to fix them.”

“Can I paint them for you?”

He cranes his neck and gives you a confused look. “...Why?”

You’re not entirely sure yourself and you shrug. Maybe you just feel guilty and want to do something nice for him. “Okay.” He agrees slowly, still entirely not convinced but still leans forward so you can stand up and grab the bottle of polish, remover and cotton pads from his dresser. Everytime you come in his room you marvel at what a neat freak he is, everything is always so organised.

“Black?” You confirm the color. He nods.

You set your items out on the bed, this time opting to sit opposite Yoongi, facing him. To get close enough so that he doesn’t have to stretch his arms out uncomfortably you’re basically sitting in his lap, legs entwined. Gently you talk his palm in yours and begin to wipe away the remnants of the old paint.

“No one has ever painted my nails before.” He chuckles. Your eyes meet and you can't help but smile.

“That’s another first time milestone of yours I’ve taken.” Your expression turns into a wide grin. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

He’s not delicate by any means (despite the bruises) and you don’t know why you’re treating him as such but delicate is what you are when you clean all ten of his nails. You can feel his burning gaze on you as you work; it spurs you on to do a good job.

The room smells toxic, the fumes of the remover and the nail polish nearly make your eyes water. “Can I open the window?” You ask after the smell gets a little too much. Yoongi nods and you quickly hop off the bed and pop the frame open. The instant wave of fresh air clears your head.

He’s watching you with a peculiar look on his face that you can’t help question but he brushes it off. You return to your earlier position and continue your handiwork. You can’t help but smile and admire the first nail, disproportionately proud of your newfound skill. Yoongi laughing ruins your moment.

“What exactly is so funny?” You question, quirking a brow.

Still laughing he shakes his head. “You’re cute.”

The blush that creeps up from your chest to your cheeks is hot and there’s no way Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s never really complimented you like that. In fact, he rarely says anything about your appearance, negative or positive. Occasionally when he’s mid way through fucking you something will slip out but it’s meaningless when he’s seconds away from an orgasm and not thinking clearly.

“Oh.” You mutter dumbly, trying to ignore why that makes you feel tingly inside. You carry on with your task at hand. When you’ve finished the second coat, you take him by the wrist and blow on his fingers, as if that’s going to do a whole lot to speed the drying process.

“Uh..” Yoongi makes a noise that sounds almost sexual in nature and you peer up at him with a perplexed look as you continue blowing. “This is such a douchey guy thing to say but when your mouth makes that shape....and it kinda gives me goosebumps when you do that...it reminds me of every time you’ve ever sucked my dick.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh, throwing your head back. “Seriously?!”

He nods, looking half amused, half ashamed. “They’re pretty memorable, you know.”

“Good to know.”

After his nails are dry and you’ve tidied up the mess you join him back on the bed. “Thank you.” He says, pulling you on his lap before you even have a moment to process what just happened. You straddle him, hands on his shoulders, staring intently at the injuries on his face. You brush a thumb along his bottom lip.

“I like doing things for you.”

Yoongi holds your arm firmly in place, pressing a kiss to your thumb then bringing your hand to cup his face and planting a kiss against your wrist. His larger hand rests atop your hand, keeping it there and he nuzzles into you. There’s a palpable tension and the air suddenly feels too thick. It’s almost hard to breathe. As you get lost in his eyes it feels as if the world around you has vanished, leaving only you and Yoogi, in your own private universe.

You lean in closer. His breath ghosts your lips. You’ve missed kissing him so much.

Then, the front door slams.

“Shit.” Yoongi flies up so quickly it’s a wonder you’re not thrown to the floor. “They’re home.” His parents are earlier than expected.

“I’ll sneak out if you distract them?” It’s not that Yoongi’s parents don’t like you, they just a: wouldn’t approve of you being over unsupervised and without permission and b: the less fuel you can add to the fire the better. Mr Min will look for anything to be upset with when it comes to his son.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Just go.” You push him towards the door. Before he leaves he turns to you and asks -

“ - See you tonight?”

Yoongi’s in - dare he say it - a good mood when he sneaks out later that same day. His dad passed out early (a rare but welcome occasion) leaving the Min household in a relatively peaceful state for once. Slipping out the front door, armed with a box of his mom’s homemade cookies that you love, he makes the short trip to your bedroom.

A knuckle taps quietly against the window and he can’t help but grin when he sees the excitement in your eyes. After all you had unfinished business from earlier. You bounce over to the window wearing that cute lilac pyjama short set (the one that makes it hard for him to concentrate) and let him inside.

“They’re still awake.” You whisper, holding a finger to his lips when he goes to speak. He nods in understanding, aware you mean your parents.

“For you.” He matches your hushed tone as he passes you the box of cookies. Your eyes light up with delight and a tiny gasp leaves your lips.

“My favorite! Your mom must have been in a good mood today to be baking.”

“Dad went to bed early, so..” He shrugs.

“Thank you.” You put the box on your desk and engulf Yoongi in a hug of gratitude.

His hands are cold when he slides them beneath your flimsy camisole, wanting nothing more than to feel your naked skin. He kneads the flesh of your bare hips under his hands before dragging his nose along the juncture of where your collarbone meets your neck and inhaling. The scent of you, your skin and your body wash was comforting and arousing.

He wonders sometimes if you truly knew the effect you had on him as his lips ghost over your skin with the briefest of touches. He wants to drown in you. This is the only place he’s ever felt safe.

You exhale a shaky breath that sounds a lot like his name. He pushes your hair over your shoulder allowing his lips to roam your decliotage freely. There’s not a part of your body he hasn’t kissed, he thinks. He laves his way up your throat and meets your awaiting mouth. He can taste your strawberry lip balm, a taste he will forever associate with you.

You whisper between kisses that he has to be quiet (as always) but intrigue him when you push him towards the white wooden chair that matches the desk. He sits down and you swing a leg over his lap so you’re straddling him, a more intimate version of how you were on his bed earlier.

“This is new.” He hums, hands stroking up and down your sides.

“Can’t have the headboard crashing into the wall again now can we?” You giggle, pushing some of his hair off his face.

Yoongi agrees with a smirk, gaze roving over your willing body. He strips you of your camisole, before devouring your breasts, taking one in each hand and grazing a thumb over your quickly hardening nipples. His lips find purchase on your neck once more. It’s almost sinful how you’re already grinding shamelessly against him.

“Stand up and take these off.” He commands, snapping the waistband of your little shorts to punctuate his point. Quickly you shed the clothing, kicking them off. Yoongi’s cock is aching a little now, having been pent up for a few hours now. He hastily shoves his sweatpants down enough for his member to spring free.

When you’re seated on his lap you moan in pleasure at the feeling of his hardness against your bare pussy. “I’ve missed you.” You breathe, rocking your hips enough so that the tip of his cock brushes through your lips. He shudders at the combination of your voice and sensation.

His hands can’t seem to decide exactly where he wants to touch you. One has a handful of your ass, encouraging your movements and the other is palming at your tits. Then when you beg him to touch you he knows exactly where his hands want to be.

A sense of pride washes over him every time he feels how wet he makes you. There’s a thrill in knowing he’s the only one who has ever made you like this. The only one who has ever touched you like this. His thumb circles your clit slowly. He watches you with ravenous eyes.

Your soft whines just make the ache to be inside you increase tenfold. It’s so much better than any dirty movie he’s ever seen. It’s real and it's for him. “O-Oh, Yoongi.” Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder. “I’m ready. Please. Just want you. It’s been too long.”

The fact that two weeks without him was too long for you does nothing but inflate his ego. Rarely does Yoongi ever feel just this self assured. “You have me.” He whispers, positioning you over his swollen cock. Slowly you lower yourself onto him, taking him like the good girl you are. “Fuckkk.” He exhales when you’re completely full of him.

“It’s s-so much.” You choke. He knows exactly what you mean. This is a new position and a new angle for you both. As beginners to sex neither of you had the confidence or experience to experiment too much yet. With you speared on his lap, it’s deeper than he’s ever felt you before.

His grip on your hips is bruisingly tight as he stills you for a moment. It’s overwhelming how good you feel and he already came far too fast last time. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tight.

Eventually he calms down enough to let you bounce on him. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, lids fluttering shut. His mouth hangs open and he knows he porbbaly looks so dumb right now but he couldn’t fucking care. Not with how unbelievably good it felt.

“Yoongi,” You pant, laughing a little “You know I saw this in porn and wanted to try it.”

“Yeah - uh, wa - what?” He splutters, stilling you completely to ensure he heard you correctly. “Since when do you watch porn?”

“Last week the cable TV glitched.” You bite your lip shyly. “I may have watched some.”

“Fuck.” He growls, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length. The idea of you watching porn, masturbating to porn and then thinking about him almost has him blowing his load immediately. God knows he’s thought about you countless times. Even before you’d had ever even had sex. “You have no. Idea. How hot that is.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You’re breathless, cheek to cheek as you whisper in his ear.

“The idea of you touching yourself.” He groans. “Wishing it was me.”

“Of course I wished it was you.” You moan. “Think about you fucking me all the time. You can have me whenever you want me, Yoongi.”

Shit He’s so close to cumming already. Whispered obcenties tumble out from under his breath. Just as you’re starting to get too loud Yoongi covers your mouth with his hand but you grab his two of his fingers and suck them into your hot mouth, muffling your moan as you cum. The sensation of your mouth and your pussy is his undoing, and he explodes not even seconds later, cumming harder than he can ever remember.

“You’re going to ruin me.” He pants, chest heaving.

You laugh, pressing your sweaty forehead against his. “Not if you ruin me first.”

Weekday routine insists you always assist your mother with the after dinner clean up. When you were younger you were often (as your father put it - ‘deviously smart’) at inventing excuses to get out of chores. Now as an almost adult you, it isn’t such a hassle. It’s even nice to spend a little time talking with your mother.

The relationship you have with your parents is the inverse of the one Yoongi has with his. It wasn’t until you understood the gravity of his situation did you really start appreciating them in a newfound way. You could be a bratty kid in your youth, like everyone but you thank your lucky stars you had a loving, safe environment.

“Careful with that plate darling, it’s china.” Your mom instructs as she hands you the dinner plate, knowing full well how clumsy you can be.

“How about we just eat from paper plates now on? They don’t break.”

Your mom cracks a smile as she shakes her head. “When it’s your house you can make the rules.” She gives you a pointed look. After a few moments of silence she asks - “How is Yoongi? I haven’t seen him over in a while.”

You look away to hide the blush that floods your cheeks. He’s over nearly every other night, mother. Right under your nose.

“He’s fine. Same old, same old.” You sigh, stretching up on to your tip toes as you put the precious plate away.

“Is he joining you at Hangyang in September?” You mom pries.

Oh shit. You’d forgotten to tell her. “Uh, no. No he’s not.”

“Oh sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you two were looking forward to it. It’s a shame he didn’t get in.”

“That’s not why.” You take yet another precious china plate from her to dry. “It’s his parents.”

“Oh.”

You don’t have to elaborate any further. It’s not a secret in your home. Your parents aren’t deaf, they hear everything you do. “I wish he would leave them. He’s worried for his mom.”

A long, forlorn sigh leaves your mother. “Gosh when he was young your father and I would phone the police on the really bad nights.” She tells you with a shake of her head.

“What? Seriously?” This was brand new information to you. She nods.

“Mrs Min always defended her husband. Made us look like we were imaging things. It’s so sad.” Her eyes grow misty. “I don’t blame that poor Yoonseok for running away. At one point we even tried to adopt Yoongi, you know.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Language.” Your mother warns and you hastily apologise, desperate to hear more of the story. “Yes. He spent so much time here, it was like he was our kid anyway. We seriously looked into it, hired a lawyer and a social worker. But it was too difficult. Mrs Min stopped talking to us for a long time.”

“I had no idea.” You breathe, awed. Although the idea of Yoongi potentially being your brother makes you feel nauseous now, given everything.

“Mrs Min is a nice woman. She adores her children but she struggles.” Your mom says empathetically. “As for Mr Min? He was the picture perfect father and husband for a good while when they first moved in. You were too young to remember.”

“I wish I could help them.”

“I know you do honey. If only it was so simple.” You mom smiles. “Yoongi is lucky to have you. That boy is welcome in our home any time, as far as I’m concerned. And tell him I was asking after him won’t you?”

“Of course. He’ll like that you were.”

Aside from Yoongi, Anni is probably the person you’re closest with. The juxtaposition between her and Yoongi is almost comical, like night and day. She is bubbly, fun and out-going; a stark contrast to Yoongi’s more foreboding and at times broody nature. Of course he was fun, but in such a different way.

Anni somehow persuades you to accompany her to a house party. Your entire high school life you’ve only ever been to a handful. They’re not exactly your thing. But college is encroaching and that’s what you’re supposed to be doing there right? Partying, drinking, occasionally studying. So it doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you prettied up and ready to go.

It’s Seyoon’s house that’s your destination, a guy in your year you’ve only spoken to a handful of times. The moment you set foot in the crowded building you already feel awkwardly out of place. As if your friend senses this she whispers in your ear, “You look great, don’t think so much.” while pushing you through the crowd.

The first point of call is obviously alcohol. Together you do two shots each before grabbing a cup of something questionable. “Oh! There’s Soomin. Let’s go say hi.”

Soomin was Anni’s friend, someone you only knew by acquaintance. You spot her talking to a group of two guys and a girl you recognise but don’t know her name. You instantly feel a little nervous, one of the guys is clearly older, and not to mention handsome. He looks like a model, beautiful dark hair coiffed perfectly.

Soomin is very friendly and greets you both with welcoming hugs before introducing you to the group. “This is Yeona, her boyfriend Jongsuk and my cousin Seokjin.”

“You don’t go to our school. You look like you spend your time in a drama as the male lead.” Anni teases Seokjin playfully. Of course she would be flirting right off the bat. He takes it in stride, shaking his head with a grin.

“I used to. I just finished my first year at Hangyang Uni.”

“That’s where I’m going next year.” You smile up at him. When he makes eye contact you blush like the school kid you technically are.

“Really? That’s great. What are you studying?” He asks, stepping a little closer so he can hear you over the music.

“I’m hoping to get my degree in Psychology and Sociology.”

“Are you joking?” He laughs. At once you’re confused. You don’t exactly look like the studious academic type, and he doesn’t have to be rude about it.

“No…” You frown. “Why?”

“I’m a psychology student too. You’ll probably even be on the same campus as me!” He grins.

“Ohhhh, that’s cool! What are the odds?”

“I know? Isn’t that so weird?” He laughs.

“Do you enjoy it?” You ask, genuinely curious. That’s been a big fear of yours, worried you’ll begin your (expensive) further education and hate it.

“I love it. I’ve always been interested in Psychology so learning from some of the best experts in the country is amazing.” He looks like a kid on christmas, eyes lighting up as he speaks. This guy might be model handsome on the outside but he is a total geek. It’s so endearing, you can’t help but like it. “It’s a great school. You’ll enjoy it.”

By now the others' conversations have died out. Seokjin’s eyes dart downwards to your empty drink. “Want another?”

“Yeah alright.”

“Come with me, I can tell you about all the cool spots on campus and what books not to buy.” He grabs you by the wrist as he says a quick ‘be right back’ to Yeona. Anni gives you a knowing smirk but you mouth ‘shut up’ at her.

Hoseok’s sunny, cheerful demeanour is something Yoongi normally appreciates about his friend. Unless it’s used as a weapon against him, like it is tonight. This is how he finds himself sipping on a disgustingly warm beer in the corner of Seyoon’s vast living room, doing nothing more exciting than people watching.

You had told him earlier in the week you’d been roped into attending. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to go with less resistance than usual. If he was truly honest with himself he was scanning the room, hoping to find you and turn this night around. The few times you’d got drunk together were always fun.

He spies Anni first, talking to a group of people, which means you can’t be far off. He knows you went with her. That’s when some movement catches his eye.

Initially it’s the tall pretty boy who alerts his attention, but his gaze drops downward to see him leading you of all people somewhere, wrist firmly encaptured in his grip.

Something hot and prickly rises in his chest and his heart feels like it’s screeched to a halt. If he witnesses this strange boy take you upstairs he might just lose it. That’s what usually happens at these parties.

He exhales a shaky breath of relief when the two of you make a beeline for the kitchen. Although the adrenaline rush isn’t gone yet, his heart is still thundering his ribcage. Through a small gap in the crowd he sees you talking, smiling, laughing. You look like you’re having fun. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Do you want another?” Hoseok nudges him with his elbow, gesturing with his head to the nearly finished beer Yoongi clutches.

He does want another but that would mean going into the kitchen, so he refuses.

“Come on, little MinMin.” Hoseok teases, using Yoongi’s least favourite nickname. He hates being called little, or tiny, or short. “I know you want one.”

“Fine but I’m staying here. Fetch it for me.”

Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him before grabbing his empty bottle and disappearing with it.

“Me? No I’m not really into the partying side of college life but I can show you where to go if you are.” Seokjin has been sharing his wisdom for you for the last forty minutes. Evidently he’s learned a lot in a year at Hangyang. “I read books and chill. By myself.” He laughs and you join him.

“It’s funny how we both aren’t the partying type and we literally met at a party.” You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Should we rejoin the others?”

Seokjin agrees and as you two exit the kitchen you see the back of someone’s head that looks a lot like Yoongi’s friend Hobi. You hesitate for a minute, attempting to decipher if it really is him or not when a subtle touch at the small of your back from Seokjin jolts you back into the present.

“Come on.” He’s so unintentionally suave. It makes your heart beat just a little faster.

Anni is animatedly telling the story of when you and her accidentally tried to give her white maltese dog Pricilla a bath and accidentally turned her pink with the wrong shampoo. “Your mom still hasn’t let me live that done!” You join in at the end.

“Neither has Pricilla.” Anni grins.

“Please tell me you don’t have a dog.” Seokjin asks, grabbing both your shoulders in dramatic mock concern. “Please y/n, think about the animals!”

“I didn’t act alone!” You defend shooting a glare at Anni, who is playing innocent.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not allowed animals on campus.” Seokjin smirks. Anni gives you yet another knowing look. You can practically see the internal cogs of her brain whirring to life. Ever since Jimin she’s been dying for you to at least hook up with someone. Little did she know about Yoongi.

“You two should meet up when you’re both at school.” The look on Anni’s face tells you she’s assuming she’s doing you a favour, a gentle nudge forward in your romantic life.

Before you can awkwardly deflect the question and give Seokjin an escape he answers first. “Yes we should, y/n. If you want.”

“Uh, sure.” You don’t see why not. As of now he’s the only person you know at Uni. It might make the transition a little more fluid.

“Maybe y/n you can give him your number?” Anni meddles further. Oh god, you look so desperate now. You’re not interested in dating him and she’s making it seem like you are.

“I’ll have a different number when I’m at school.” You remind her.

Seokjin reads between the lines, sensing he’s not quite privy to all the information. “No problem, I’ll give you mine.”

He excuses himself for a moment, to grab a pen and paper. You look to see where he’s going and your eyes land on the one person you did not expect to see here. Yoongi. Yoongi watches you as he makes his way out onto the patio with Hoseok, dark eyes unreadable. Your heart leaps. Immediately you want to go over and say hello but you can’t. With one final glance he disappears through the sliding doors. Why do you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong?

“Here.”

Seokjin hands you a slip of paper with his home number and campus number. “Kim Seokjin.” You read aloud to yourself. “Thank you for this. I just saw my good friend here so I’m going to say hello. It was lovely meeting you!”

“You too.” He smiles warmly.

“Come on Anni, Hobi’s here.” You inform her and her eyes widen in surprise. She likes Hobi. A lot. It’s the sweetest thing.

“Bye Seokjin!”

You drag Anni away before she can do any more damage.

Yoongi and Hoseok are sitting on the railing of the large wooden patio, joined by Jungkook who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He’s talking energetically about something but Yoongi isn’t really focusing. He spots you walking over to him. Your face lights up as soon as your eyes meet. It makes him feel funny.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” You smile brightly as you come to a stop before him.

“Hobi tricked me.” He shrugs, sipping his beer. The frown that his dry response elicits makes him feel guilty. “Are you two having fun?” He nods his head towards Anni.

“Y/n was.” She giggles, nudging you suggestively. “How about you two? I haven’t seen you in a while Hoseok.”

He flashes her a winning smile. “You’re seeing me now.”

Yoongi fights an intense urge to roll his eyes. Hobi’s flirting always made him cringe. It’s even worse when it actually works. Hoseok offers everyone a drink but only Anni takes him up on the offer. Together they disappear in search of alcohol, leaving Yoongi alone with you. He feels awkward for some reason.

“You know she likes him, right? Hobi.” You say after a few beats of silence pass between you. Yoongi figured, from the way Anni hung on Hoseok’s every word.

“I’m sure he’d be down to hook up. He’s not picky.” He mutters.

“Yoongi.” You scold. “They suit each other. They would be cute together.”

He hums in response. You’re right, of course but he’s not really in the headspace to be getting giddy about whether two people will fuck or not.

You hoist yourself onto the railing next to him, scooting close enough that your bodies are touching. He tenses when you lay your head on his shoulder. “You’re not in a good mood tonight.” It’s not a question, you’re just consistently excellent at reading his emotions.

“You know I hate parties.” He mumbles.

“Me too.”

“You looked like you were having fun earlier. Don’t feel obligated to sit with me.” He speaks before he thinks. It makes him sound bitter and jealous and angry. He hates it because not only does it make him sound pathetic; it’s true.

“I want to sit with you.” You correct quietly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, praise and affection always make him feel a little awkward. For a while you sit in comfortable silence, just watching the rest of what seems like the world have fun. Yoongi spies that tall pretty boy you were talking to glancing over and he feels a little smug at the disappointment on the strangers face seeing you and Yoongi looking cosy together.

“Those two have been taking a suspiciously long time.” Yoongi muses, attention now back on his beer.

“Yeah,” You huff a laugh. “I wonder why…”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yoongi asks abruptly. “Let’s go to the diner. I’m hungry.”

“That sounds like a plan.” You agree to his surprise.

At your suggestion you seek out Hoseok and Anni to extend an invitation, only to find them kissing in a darkened corner of the hallway. Yoongi rolls his eyes while you snicker - “About time.”

When Yoongi smiles - really smiles - his entire demeanour changes. He has the tendency to look intimidating and cold when his expression is neutral (“I can’t help my face!” he would always defend when people mentioned it) but when he laughs his eyes light up like stars. You adore his gummy smile.

The thought captures you in the diner as the two of you are doubled over with laughter. You were trying to throw a french fry into Yoongi’s mouth but missed completely, hitting an older woman in the booth behind, directly on the forehead.

“No wonder you suck at basketball with an aim like that.” He grins, stuffing some fries in his mouth.

“I’m so embarrassed.” You cover your reddening face with your hands but you’re still laughing.

“It’s a good thing we’re Mike’s best customers or I’m sure we would have been kicked out by now.” Yoongi points out. He’s right. The greasy, twenty four hour diner has been your hang out for years now.

“I’m going to miss it when I’m at college. I’ll have to make special trips back for the strawberry milkshakes.” You realise.

“What about me?!” He scoffs playfully. “Nice to know on your list of priorities I’m below milkshake.”

“You know you’re my favourite.” You coo, stealing a fry from his hand before he has the chance to bite it. The look of indignation he gives you only makes you giggle.

You walk home together, happy and still a little buzzed from the alcohol at the party. Somewhere along the way the back of Yoongi’s hand brushes against yours and he laces your fingers together.

Summer persists in much the same way. Yoongi gets a job across the street from your work as a full time record store employee. He enjoys talking about music in his free time, so he figures he may as well get paid for it. You’re happy for him and he seems a little more content. You coordinate lunch breaks when you can, meeting to eat in the sunshine.

Once a week Yoongi brings you a record or cassette he thinks that you’ll like. Sometimes he leaves little notes inside the sleeve of the vinyl, secret messages just for you. They range from random thoughts of his, inside jokes or just which song he loved the most. It’s such a Yoongi thing to do.

You make and bring him iced americano’s, on the house of course. At this point you’re pretty sure everyone he works with assumes you are a couple. What’s weird is that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

If you thought the boundaries between you and Yoongi were blurred before, it’s even more confusing now. Yoongi treats you as if you’re his girlfriend, but only when you’re alone of course. When your other friends are around no one would suspect anything at all is going on between you. To say it’s messing with your head is an understatement. You wonder if Yoongi is going through the same mental turmoil about this as you are.

Probably not, if you’re being truly honest with yourself. A part of you knows he’s just latching on to you for comfort, for a way of coping. It’s not like his home life has magically improved in the last few weeks. Truthfully it seems to be steadily worsening.

It’s pathetic how willing you are to pretend that it’s real. That you belong to Yoongi and he to you. Your mother once told you, amidst your heartbreak over Jimin while you had been blaming yourself for him cheating, that if someone wanted to do something, they would, regardless of you. She said it to comfort you but the words haunt you now. If Yoongi wanted you to be together, wouldn’t he ask?

You’re leaving for college soon. You won’t have Yoongi for much longer. So for now, you’ll allow yourself this indulgence, and just enjoy being with him.

“Please tell me you are not taking these.” Anni exclaims, holding up a pair of chunky black platform boots. “They’re the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.” She giggles at the look of outrage on your face.

You’ve recruited Anni and Yoongi to help you pack some of your belongings since it’s only seven short days until you leave for Hangyang and could use the extra pair(s) of hands. The afternoon has consisted mainly of Anni questioning your taste whilst Yoongi rocks on your desk chair, attempting to solve a rubix cube he managed to find.

“Yes I am taking those! They’re cute and they make me feel tall.” You snatch the shoes from her and place them in your suitcase. “Right Yoongi?” You ask, looking for backup.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mumbles without even bothering to look up from the toy in his hands.

“I’m going to miss you and your ugly shoes so much.” Anni sighs dramatically earning an eye roll from you.

“I’m only one hour away from your school babe.” You remind her. Like you, she’s also leaving Daegu for Seoul. “It’ll be easy for us to meet up.”

“Have you met your roommates yet?” She inquires, inspecting yet another pair of your shoes.

“Yeah, I’m with two girls. They seem nice enough. We have our own separate rooms which is nice.”

“That means you can have boys over.” She says suggestively. You hear Yoongi scoff slightly under his breath.

“Yeah yeah,” You dismiss. “Speaking of boys, what’s going on with you and Hobi?”

“He does not shut up about you.” Yoongi pipes up to Anni’s delight. “Seriously. It’s annoying.”

“I like him a lot. And we get on great.” She gushes, face lighting up. “But we’re going to be so far apart come September.” While you both are leaving for the city, Hoseok is going south for school.

“You can still date long distance.” You suggest.

“No you can’t.” Yoongi cuts in bluntly. “It won’t work.”

“What?” You look at him incredulously. “Of course they can.”

“No they can’t.” He rebuts, leaning forward resting his arms on his knees.. “It might work for a while. But she’ll be busy and will be meeting new people and he won’t be a priority anymore, because he doesn’t fit into her new life!”

“She cares about him! She’ll make time for him to fit into her life!”

“That’s bullshit. It won’t happen.” Yoongi jeers, a nasty undertone to his words that’s far too visceral to be directed at Anni.

“Alright, jeez. Calm down you two.” Anni looks between you, wide eyed. “I know you both care about me and Hobi but you don’t have to take it so personally.”

You and Yoongi lock eyes for a moment, a secret realization transpires between you, about exactly why you’re taking one another’s words so seriously. Before the tension in the room can worsen, your mom knocks on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” You call. She pokes her head through the door. “Hey mom.”

“How’s the packing going?” She inquires, peering around the room.

“Getting there.” You exhale, blowing some stray hairs away from your forehead.

“Good, good.” She nods. “I just got back from the supermarket, I bumped into Kim Jangmi and we had a very interesting chat.”

“Kim Jangmi?” You struggle to recall the name. It sounds familiar but you don’t exactly know the name of every single one of your mother’s friends.

“Yes! You know, from my book club? Anyway she was with her son and we all got to chatting and apparently you met him a few weeks ago. Kim Seokjin!”

“Oh….yeah.” You mumble. “He goes to Hangyang and we ended up speaking for a bit.”

“The handsome guy from the party?!” Anni interrupts keenly.

“Gosh, he is handsome isn’t he?” Your mother agrees, a little too enthusiastically for your liking. “He said you’re going to meet up at school?”

You glance at Yoongi before you answer, he is clearly pretending not to be interested in the conversation, looking at the rubix cube as if it is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe. I don’t know. I barely know him.”

“He gave you his phone number.” Anni chirps.

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you.

“He was just being friendly.” You feel defensive for some reason. “We are on the same course, that’s all.”

“He’s a really nice boy, y/n. The reason why I came here was to tell you he’s going to help us when you move in next week.” Your mom beams.

“What?” You gasp, annoyed. “Why did you have to rope him into that?!”

“He offered!”

You sigh, feeling frustrated and defeated. “Okay mom. I'm sure that’s a lie, but ok.”

“Stop being difficult, darling.” She sighs. “I’m going to start on dinner now. Yoongi, Anni, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Yoongi and Anni both say thank you before your mother bids her goodbye. It’s odd in the room now; you feel exposed as if Yoongi just found out a secret you’ve been hiding. You want to tell him you’re not interested in Seokjin. You want to tell him you’re only interested in him. But you can’t. So the three of you continue packing.

Anni doesn’t sense the tension. “I hope your mom is making mac and cheese for dinner. Hers is the best.”

Seven days feels like a substantial amount of time but it’s not, Yoongi has come to understand. His last week with you flew by and he wishes he had even just one more day before you depart for Seoul. Seoul feels final. Seoul feels like the end.

Your life is going to change drastically, in almost every aspect, while his will remain the same. He knows it, feels it in his gut, that you’re going to leave him behind. You were always better than him, too good for him and now you’re going to realise it. And he’s been clinging on like a desperate man.

Somehow he manages to convince you to sneak out. It’s one am and you have to be up early for the big move but he’s grateful when you agree anyway. He’s waiting for you in his car. It’s silent apart from the low thrum of the idle engine and some indie rock playing over the radio at a low volume.

You slip out of your front door, in a hoodie that Yoongi notes belongs to him. He can’t help how the sight makes his heart swell and excitement begin to race through him. He leans across the console and opens the passenger door for you. “Hi.” You whisper with a smile.

“Hi.” He whispers back.

He waits for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling off. The roads are almost deserted at this time, a fact he finds oddly soothing.

“Do I get to know where we are going or…?” You ask, peeking at him slyly out of the corner of your eye.

“You’ll know in a minute.” Is his response. He’s taking you to a spot you’ve both been many times before. There’s an observatory at one of the highest points in town which gives an amazing view of the landscape below as well as the stars. It’s peaceful.

When he parks in the abandoned parking lot (the observatory has long since closed, lying abandoned now) there’s a fond smile playing on your lips. You like it here, having always been fond of the night sky. “Is there a reason you brought me here?”

Yes.

“No,” He answers with a shrug. “Just wanted to have a nice last night with you.”

“You’re acting like I’m going to war or something.” You laugh. “I’ll be back and forth between here and Uni all the time.”

You say that now but he thinks (knows) the reality will be much different.

He’s silent as he draws you in for a kiss. Hands cup your face and he pours as much intensity as he can into the gesture. His name falls breathlessly from your lips as he pulls away. “I need to tell you something.” He manages to choke out. He’s nervous and it constricts his vocal chords.

You blink a few times before your eyes widen with worry. “Is everything okay Yoongi?”

“Yeah! Yeah..” He tries to convince you. “With you leaving and all I just wanted to let you know. Y/n… you mean a lot to me.” He takes a deep breath, an attempt to summon some courage, whilst you watch him curiously. “Our..friendship is different now. Things have changed.” No shit, he thinks. “I like you. So much. More than anyone else. I - I, you, you know?”

He wants to verbalise that he loves you so badly, but his brain is blocking the words from escaping. He feels like a fool. An emotionally stunted fool.

“Yoongi,” You say gently. Your eyes search his own and he knows you understand what he’s trying to say. You’ve always been excellent at reading him. “Me too.”

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” He confesses in a low voice. “You’re everything to me.”

“I feel exactly the same.”

His heart constricts before thudding wildly in his chest. This was the answer he had hoped before. He hooks your pinky with his just like he always does. “Promise me if things change when you’re away we’ll be friends.” He can hardly look at you as he asks his desperate question.

“I promise.” You squeeze his pinky tightly. “Nothing will change. You will always have me, Yoongi.”

Little more words and confessions are exchanged between you. Yoongi fucks you in the back seat of his car for what he hopes isn’t that last time. It’s different, passionate and slow. The windows steam up just like in the movies.

Still naked and sticky on top of you, he stretches forward and draws a heart in the condensation on the window. He writes both of your initials inside of it, then kisses you through your adorable giggles.

The sun begins to rise and you watch it together before he drives you home.

The next time you will see Yoongi will be December. Three whole months from now. The thought anxiously chews away at your insides as you watch his house disappear in your rearview mirror. He has the phone number of your dorm and you promised to arrange regular phone catch ups. With your mother’s blessing you gave him a copy of the key to your house so he will always have a refuge, even if you’re not there to be one for him.

Areum and Oli are surprisingly easy to get along with. It’s never easy to live with people so you’re thankful you lucked out with some decent roommates. The first night away from home the three of you spend the evening drinking wine, eating take out and getting to know one another.

Your room is cute, decorated with a few polaroids of you and friends and some fairy lights that twinkle at night. Among them is two pictures of you with Yoongi. The first from when you were ten and your mom managed to catch him and you napping on the sofa together and the second was from the last few months and he’s wearing that smile you love. It only makes you miss him more.

College officially doesn’t start for one week, the seven remaining days are filled with orientations and registrations and parties. Almost every bar and restaurant in the area have deals and themed nights on in order to entice the students out and it works.

The third night as an official Hangyang student you find yourself at dinner with Seokjin. After he had struggled to get your mattress into your room he had winked at you and said ‘you can make it up to me by buying me dinner’. Sufficiently guilty at receiving so much of his help you had agreed.

“I spent almost my entire first year here.” He jokes as he sits opposite you at a typical burger place he’d insisted you take him to. “You won’t find a better burger in a fifty km radius.”

“We’ll see. I have plenty of time to find out.”

Now that you’re out of the earshot of your parents you take the time to apologise for them roping him into helping you move. Seokjin waves it off with a genuine smile. If you didn’t know better you would think he wanted to help you.

Surprisingly it’s easy to spend time with him and you soon discover you have a lot in common, beyond being on the same course and coming from the same town. He watches re-runs of 80s sitcoms too and loves bad horror movies. He even has the same obsession with milkshakes you do.

“Let’s share one.” He suggests, ordering only one lone milkshake from the waitress.

“This isn’t 1950. Or lady and the tramp.” You laugh, scrunching up your noise.

“Hey! Lady and Tramp share spaghetti. Have some respect.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I naturally should have assumed that you, a twenty two year old college male felt so strongly towards an old disney film.” You giggle.

He leans in close and beckons you to do the same, as if he’s going to whisper a secret. “I think it’s the cutest film ever.”

“Aw, you’re a secret softie.” You smile.

“The softest.” He agrees.

Your milkshake arrives and it suddenly dawns on you why he wanted to order one to share. This thing was as large as a two liter bottle, and after a huge burger you doubt you could have finished one alone.

It’s almost - dare you say it - cute, sharing the dessert with him. You’re glad you agreed to the dinner. It’s been years since you spent time with another boy that wasn’t Yoongi and it’s nice. Between some of the classmates you’ve met, your roommates and Seokjin college feels hopeful. You’re excited.

You go to pay the check but Seokjin stops you with a laugh, assuring you he was only joking before. “Let me treat you, as a thanks for your time.” He says before walking away with a grin.

Three weeks away from home and your routine is beginning to shape and settle itself. Classes aren’t as hard as you expect them to be but you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t stay that way for long. Seokjin offers to help if you need it and you’re grateful that he’s slowly becoming a friend.

Thursday nights have become a regular thing in your new home. Areum, Oli and yourself make it a thing to have dinner together and gossip about the week. Oli is majoring in sports medicine so is almost always busy while Areum is studying law, which all but shackles her to the library.

There’s a knock on the door and you hop to your feet, hungry and eager to receive the chinese food you’d ordered for the three of you. To your surprise is Seokjin on the other side and not the delivery guy you’ve become so familiar with as of late.

“Seokjin. Hey! What brings you here?” You ask, trying not to sound too put out. As far as you were aware you had no prior plans arranged.

“I just finished my shift at the library and thought I’d come see my favourite freshman.If that’s okay?” He eyes you curiously.

“My roommates and I were just about to have dinner. Unless you want to join?” One more can’t hurt and usually you order far too much food anyway. He agrees eagerly with a smile

Areum and Oli have met Seokjin once before and they greet him warmly when he joins the three of you in the small sitting area. Areum helps you grab some plates and napkins in preparation for the food arriving. Once in the kitchen she peeks over her shoulder to make sure she’s not heard, whispering lowly - “Are you two dating now?”

“W-what?” You stutter, so completely taken aback you almost drop the porcelain you’re holding. “No!”

“Don’t look so offended.” Areum laughs at your reaction. “He’s gorgeous. And so into you.” “No he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous.” You’re quick to defend. Seokjin is your friend and nothing more. You have Yoongi. Sort of.

“So you wouldn’t mind if he and Oli…?” She nods her head towards the two of them, talking and smiling.

“Of course not.” You answer sharply. Areum looks at you as if she doesn’t believe you but doesn’t press the topic further as you rejoin your friends.

“Oh y/n, before I forget someone called for you this afternoon. I totally forgot to say before I had my nap.” Oli says as you sit down. “That Yoongi guy.”

Both of the girls are familiar with Yoongi, given the amount you speak with him. You called each other every other night, it was unusual for him to call during the day. “Oh. Thank you for letting me know. Do you guys mind if I call him back real quick before dinner?”

Your friends assure you it’s fine and you disappear to the kitchen where the house phone resides. Quickly you dial Yoongi’s number, having long since memorised it. You eye the clock, hoping it’s him that answers and not one of his parents. Thankfully your silent prayer is answered when his gruff voice greets.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” You begin quietly. “I’m so sorry I missed your call today, I only just found out - “

“ - It’s okay.” He interupts gently. “You’re calling now.”

“How are things?”

He lets out a worrying sigh. Something in your gut alerts you that things are not good for him right now. “Mom’s in the hospital. Courtesy of Mr Asshole himself.” He spits the last part out with venom.

“Oh my god. Is she okay?”

“Yeah. No. Well, she’s alive. He broke her jaw, knocked out a few teeth.” He says it so casually, it only further exemplifies how used to this behaviour he has become. It’s a miracle he is nothing like his father. “She lied about it to the doctors but y/n, they know. I can see it in their eyes and they either look at us like we’re stupid or that they pity us.”

“I’m sure they don’t think that. They probably see instances like this all the time. It’s heartbreaking as an outsider.” You assure. “This could be a huge turning point. To actually get your mom away from your dad.”

“Yeah.” He exhales. It’s clear he doesn’t believe your nor agree. “Fuck, I wish you were here right now y/n.”

“Me too.” You reply softly, heart aching in your chest. You wish you were too. “It’s almost the weekend, maybe I can book a train home?” You have your first assignment due in a week and definitely don’t have the time to waste at home but for Yoongi you would do anything.

“You don’t have to do that.” He sounds choked up. You wonder if he’s crying. “I’ll be busy looking after my mom anyway. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you. Remember you have my key? Use it as much as you need it. You can always come up here for a day or a weekend.” You suggest.

The knock at the door signalling that the food has arrived is loud enough that Yoongi hears it through the phone. Areum’s voice yells to you as she answers it. “Sounds like you have to go. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your evening.” Yoongi tells you sadly.

“Can I call you later?” You ask hopefully.

“Please.” Yoongi sighs.

“Bye Yoongi. Speak soon.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, plastering on a fake look of happiness as you rejoin your friends. They seem convinced, apart from Seokjin. “Boyfriend troubles?” He asks, in a not so subtle attempt of inquiring information of your relationship status. Areum and Oli exchange a knowing glance.

“No,” You reply with a shake of your head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just checking in with a friend back home.”

“I see.” Seokjin side eyes you, a secret smile tugging at his lips.

Strangely, Yoongi sleeps better knowing his mother is in the safety of the hospital. He spends the night alone, dad having long since fucked off somewhere. Yoongi doesn’t know where and more importantly, he doesn’t care. There’s peace in his home for the first time in forever.

His mind wanders to you. He hopes he hasn’t ruined your evening too much. From what you’ve shared through the phone college life is kicking off to a wonderful start. He wishes he could experience it too.

As you had anticipated, month two of college has your workload almost doubling. Thursday night dinners don’t happen weekly anymore, given how much time you spend studying just to keep up with the rest of your classmates. When you were in high school your natural ability allowed you to not just get by but succeed.

To be struggling, this early on in college, feels embarrassing.

You talk less frequently with Yoongi and your family. In fact you barely even see the people you live with. Seokjin, however you see often, given that he works in the library. The single downside to this means he’s the only one who knows your secret. That college is hard and you’re drowning a little.

Once again, it’s a friday night and you’re buried in a mountain of books, furiously taking notes. Your hand aches, you have eye strain and your stomach has been gurgling for the last hour and a half. The sound of the chair opposite you screeching along the marble floor forces you to lift your head.

“You’re here more than I am.” It’s Seokjin, smiling at you as he plops down onto the chair.

You sigh. “Yeah, we’ve got a huge essay due soon and I need to do well.”

“I can help you if you want. I’ve passed that course, remember?” He taps the side of his temple. “I’m as smart as I am handsome y/n.”

You can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes. “I could use some help.” You begin timidly. “If you don’t mind! And you’re not busy. I know it’s Friday…”

“I’m happy to make time for you.” He smiles and you feel like a fool when it makes you blush.

Seokjin spends a further hour in the library with you and your coursework. He helps you tweak the essay where it needs it, knowing exactly what the professors are looking for. By the time you’re almost done it feels as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Your stomach embarrassingly gurgles again and that’s when he decides you’ve had enough for one night.

“Come on, we’re getting food.” He is so commanding you can’t help but go along with it.

Both of your roommates are out for the night so heading to your place seems like the best idea, opting to pick up some food on the way. You’re so dead on your feet having Seokjin practically push and pull you around and then home is welcomed.

The shrill pitch of a telephone ringing welcomes you as you cross the threshold into your apartment. You dash for the phone leaving Seokjin to deal with the paper bag of take out food. “Hello?”

“Hey.” It’s Yoongi. “I’ve been calling you for ages, y/n. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been studying. I guess I lost track of time.”

“You said you’d call me at seven.” Yoongi sounds grumpy and defensive. You wonder what’s happened at home now.

“I’m sorry. School is kicking my ass Yoongi.”

“Then don’t tell me you’ll call me at seven if you’re busy.” He almost spits at you. Someone’s clearly in a bad mood tonight.

“I said I was sorry.”

You watch Seokjin behind you as he dishes the food on plates for you both, politely pretending to not listen to your conversation. He has no choice, the phone is stuck to the wall, leaving you trapped there.

Yoongi heaves a long sigh on the phone. “I’m just struggling a little too.” He admits, leaving you feeling instantly guilty.

“How's your mom?”

“Not good, but not any worse.”

“I know it’s hard without me and Hobi there, but christmas is soon and I’ll be home for nearly four weeks.” You remind him.

“I can’t wait.”

Before you can reply Seokjin’s voice is tearing you away from the conversation. “Do you want to eat in your room or the couch?”

“Couch.” You reply, hand over the receiver in an attempt to mute your voice.

“Who is that?” Yoongi's voice is terse.

“Just a friend staying for dinner.”

“It’s a guy.” Yoongi states.

“A friend.”

“You said you were studying.”

“I was.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You’re ditching me for a college boy already and it’s only been a few weeks. Glad I’m so memorable to you.”

He hangs up and you stand there in shock, the sound of the dial tone echoing in your ear.

Yoongi slams the phone down, an action that is usually satisfying but does nothing for him in the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths, willing the anger he feels surging to subside. How could you move on so easily? He definitely had not imagined your feelings for him. So either he was stupid, or you had lied.

You’re hanging out with a guy who is comfortable enough to suggest being alone together in your bedroom and you have the audacity to claim he’s ‘just a friend’. He’s someone you clearly are overly familiar with. Yoongi scoffs out loud in sheer disbelief.

He has to pull himself together. He can’t allow himself to get angry, not when his mom needs him. She still has a few more weeks of recovery and he’s been taking care of her best he can. An unfortunate and tragic upside to his mom’s injuries is that his dad has left her alone, leading to a relatively peaceful home life. Yoongi can’t be the one to destroy it now by letting his emotions get the better of him.

A few more deep breaths and he’s in a decent enough headspace to go check on his mom. Her painkillers are due soon, anyway. Yoongi retrieves a granola bar and some fruit so she isn’t taking them on an empty stomach.

“Mom?” He knocks on the door to the spare bedroom, where she has been resting. The room was formerly Yoonseoks. In a bid to cling onto some hope of him returning, his mother has kept it intact. Yoongi knows his brother isn’t coming back.

She makes a noise signalling he’s welcoming to come in. Because of her injuries she’s unable to talk well at the moment.

“I brought you some painkillers.” He says gently, placing the items on the nightstand. She hums appreciatively. “I spoke to Dad.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. His mom nods, muting the TV she had been watching. “He’s staying with Uncle Jihoon tonight.”

His mom weakley reaches to squeeze his hand affectionately. He knows that means thank you.

“The hospital called and confirmed your sick pay will extend.”He sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes roughly. “I said you were getting better and would be back as soon as you could.”

He stares at her for a few moments, wishing he had a normal life like you do. “I love you mom, I’m going to leave the door open if you need me.”

“I love you too.” She replies. It makes his chest squeeze knowing that she spoke, even though it pains her. Just to tell her son she loves him.

He nods curtly and leaves the room, ensuring the door is ajar. When he’s back in his own room he collapses on the bed exhausted. The last few weeks have been draining and his sleep is suffering. It’s restless, fraught with bad dreams. He sleeps much lighter, listening out for his mother.

He wishes he didn’t resent you and Hobi so much for leaving him. He wishes his dad didn’t have anger issues and no self control. He wishes his mom was stronger and told his dad to get out a long time ago. More than anything, he wishes he had a normal life.

As ever you’re the nicer friend and you phone Yoongi to make up the next day. He feels like an asshole, knowing how much you hate conflict, but he misses your voice so much lately that it’s enough to override his own dickery behaviour. As usual it doesn’t take you long to have him smiling again.

Before you part ways you tell him it’s only thirty three days until you’re home. He promises to be there waiting for you at the train station the day you arrive. Something warm blooms in his chest and he realises it’s the first time he’s felt hopeful in weeks.

Seokjin insists on taking you out on the last night before winter break. Your complaints about the cold fall on deaf ears as he all but drags you from your apartment. He wraps his oversized red scarf around your neck throwing out a see? Now you have nothing to complain about. And he was right it felt nice., The cotton is warm against your skin and smells like Seokjin’s cologne.

There’s a large christmas market close to campus in which he buys you some hot chocolate. It reminds you of the smaller one back home that you and Yoongi would frequent ever since you were old enough to understand the concept of the holidays.

“Let’s go for a walk.” Seokjin suggests. “The Yanghwa bridge is pretty at night.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you as you stroll side by side. He spots you shivering and slips an arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. His body heat is welcoming. You peer up at him to try and read his expression but he’s staring straight ahead, a wry smile playing on his lips.

“I love Seoul.” You sigh happily. “I might actually miss it back at Daegu.”

“I wish I was going back to Daegu. My parents always go to Japan this time of year.”

“You gonna send me a postcard from Japan?” You ask jokingly, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“Obviously. How are you going to go weeks without talking to me?” He grins.

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s been such a welcome intrusion to your life lately a tiny, miniscule, barely there, part wonders the same.

Seokjin stops walking when you reach the middle of the bridge. The view combined with the lights is spectacular. You almost miss how he angles his body towards you until his hands are slipping around your waist and pulling you against his lean figure.

“Y/n, I really like you.” He says thickly.

You are almost unable to respond. You’re not stupid, he’s been dropping hints for months now but to actually hear the words leave his mouth is alarming. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, heartbeat increasing as you think of Yoongi. You shouldn’t be in this precarious situation, you’re not together but he’s yours -

Seokjin completely disrupts your internal monologue by pressing his soft, plush lips against your own. He’s gentle, fearful as if you might completely reject him. When you don’t (to your own surprise) he presses his mouth against you a little harder.

You don’t want to admit to yourself how good it feels.

Seokjin’s large hands tug you somehow impossibly tighter against his body as he slips his tongue against your bottom lip, parting your mouth as he goes. It’s so different to Yoongi. It’s sweet. It’s new, uncharted terrority. Just as you begin to get into it and further deepen the kiss, his touch becomes infuriatingly tame.

He smirks at you when he finally pulls away. You can only imagine how dazed you look.

“I- uh, what was that for?”

“You look cute in my scarf.” Is all he says, as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat a moment ago. He laughs when your face twists with disbelief.

“Seokjin, I’m not - I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this..” You cringe at how embarrassing that sounds and how incoherent it is.

The confident exterior he brought with him tonight cracks just a little. “Why? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He frowns.

“I don’t. But there’s someone. It’s really complicated. I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” He nods as he accepts the meaning of your words. “I see,” He sighs. “I’m not totally out of the running I hope?”

“I - “

“Look. Think about it over break. I like you. We have fun together! It would be nice to see where it could go.”

“Seokjin - “ You try once more. He shushes you with a smile.

Despite the kiss the rest of the evening is nice. Thank god you don’t have to see him for a while though.

The nearly four hour train ride back to Daegu leaves you with plenty of time to think. Too much time, as it turns out. As much as you attempt to bury yourself in the book and magazine you’ve brought to serve as distractions.

Seokjin kissed you last night. Seokjin kissed you. Seokjin kissed you and you liked it.

You’re on your way to see a boy who you have admitted openly how you feel for him, a boy who has waited months for you and you spent your last moments away kissing someone else. Even though you and Yoongi aren’t official you still feel awful. And if you’re brutally honest with yourself it’s because you can envision dating Seokjin. One could argue you sort of are already. He’s definitely been courting you.

When you step onto the platform and observe Yoongi for the first time, your breath traps in your throat. He looks like a brooding artist standing there in his leather jacket and chuck taylors. Your walk turns into a half run in a bid to get to him as quickly as possible.

He huffs an ‘oomf’ when you crash your body into his but hugs you so tightly that he sweeps you off your feet.

Yoongi carries your suitcase to the car for you. Neither of you can wipe the lovesick smiles from your faces. He holds your hand across the console as he drives, occasionally rubbing his thumb on your palm. It’s so sickeningly domestic and you love it.

When you’re finally alone in your room his lips are on your neck before either of you have removed your outer clothing. He’s all kisses and whispered praise as he undresses you. You’re naked on your back for him as he licks your pussy and all you can manage to breathlessly gasp is “I fucking missed you.”

You come with his tongue buried inside you and his fingers tweaking your nipples. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl.” He whispers, biting the shell of your ear.

The weight of his heavy cock in your hand is familiar. A visible shudder runs through him at your touch. When you get on your knees for him an exhilarated sigh leaves his lips. “Gonna suck my dick huh?” He’s almost mumbling to himself. You answer him by taking his cock in your mouth. He groans like he’s never had his dick wet before. “Fuck,” spills from his mouth like a mantra.

Before he has the chance to get carried away he’s fisting your hair and flipping you onto your front. Yoongi fucks you harshly from behind. The hand in your hair grasps at your scalp to leave your head permanently tilted back for him. He shoots his seed as deep inside of you as the angle allows.

His heavy breath on your neck and sweat on your skin feels fucking fantastic. You could die right now, happy, satiated and stupidly in love with Min Yoongi.

Christmas Day had always been just another day in the Min household. He only became aware of how abnormal his family’s style was when he was barely a preteen and other kids at school would discuss the fantastical ways they spent their holidays. Even kids who didn’t celebrate the holiday seemed to enjoy it more. He didn’t particularly feel much about Christmas.

Until he met you. And your family welcomed him with open arms. A gesture which included inviting him over every single year. The invitation extended to his family but usually he attended solo (except for that one time Yoonseok joined and spitefully pushed your plate onto your lap).

This year is no different.

Your mom feeds him well. She’s kind to him, taking a keen interest in his life. Your father always asks about the one interest they have in common - basketball. It’s not much but Yoongi’s dad has never broached the subject.

After dinner you suggest going for a walk, an idea with which Yoongi happily obliges. Unable to stop himself he’s lacing your hands together the moment you’re out of eyesight from your parents’ house. He kisses the back of your knuckles as he throws you a devilish grin.

Naturally you gravitate towards the enormous Christmas tree and ice rink in the town center. It’s been a long standing tradition, however it feels far more romantic this time. It’s just the two of you and you’re holding hands, just like the other couples that frequent the area. The sparkling lights on the fir light up your eyes like stars.

Snow begins to fall as you come to a stop at the wooden railing that separates the tree from the public. Yoongi lifts the hood on your parka jacket up for you, kissing you on the cheek as he goes. It’s not even comparable for the amount you do for him but anything he can give you he will.

Adorably you nuzzle into him, resting your head on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around you and he lets out a breath of content. You probably won’t be able to stay out much longer given the rapidly declining temperature so he’ll enjoy this while he can.

“Yoongi!”

A voice startles him, calling out from somewhere in the distance. Yoongi’s head whips round to see Hoseok and Anni of all people. Without thought he quickly, albeit harshly, pushes you away from him, lest you get caught in such a compromising position. No one knows about you two and he’d like to keep it that way. He already knows you’re too good for him; he does not need others reinforcing it at every opportunity.

Yoongi doesn’t think he’s made a mistake until he glimpses one look at your hurt, confused expression.

“Hey guys.” Hobi greets you both warmly. Yoongi notices he’s holding hands with Anni.

“Hey.” You reply. “Merry Christmas! It’s nice to see you both.”

“You too!” Anni replies warmly. “Did you have Christmas at the l/n house?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi mutters. “Just walking off the carbs.”

“Hobi met my parents for the first time.” Anni’s expression is one of pure happiness and he can’t help but feel a little jealous. “We had dinner together too.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.” You say. Yoongi can tell you’re upset, your tone sounds forced. “I bet they adored you Hobi.”

“”Of course.” Hoseok flashes that winning smile. “When are you both free? We should go for dinner or something.”

“How about - “ Yoongi starts.

“I’m not sure, I’ve got lots of schoolwork.” You cut him off and he shuts up instantly. “I’ll phone you Anni and we can sort something out?”

“Sure.” Anni says slowly. “We’ll leave you guys. I want to go inside anyway because I'm cold. Hopefully see you soon!”

Anni gives you a warm hug while Yoongi hugs Hoseok. They both wave cheerfully as they leave. He watches their happy retreating forms until they disappear round a corner. When he faces you once more your body language has completely shifted. Arms folded across your chest, gaze turned downwards.

He feels uncomfortable, he knows he hurt you but he’s not entirely sure how. Now it’s awkward. “Should we uh, walk some more?”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me? You pushed me away from you so fast back there I almost fell over.” You mumble.

“I didn’t mean to. Hobi and Anni don’t know about...anything.”

“So?” You finally look up to meet his eyeline. To his utter dismay your big eyes are glossy with unspilled tears. “Would it be so bad if they did?”

“Uh..I, um. I don’t know.” He trips over his wording like an idiot. The only reason he’s never breathed a word about your illicit activities to anyone is because he naturally assumed you didn’t want anyone to know. Yoongi wasn’t exactly the epitome of a model boyfriend.

“Why have you never asked me on a date? Why have you never asked me to be your girlfriend?” You demand and he panics. He doesn’t have an answer stronger than I don’t know and he’s confused as to why you’re so angry. He naively assumed what existed between you was enough.

“Do you seriously think someone like me would make a good boyfriend?” He all but groans. You of all people should understand that fact. He’s never had a girlfriend. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Then why treat me like I’m yours? Why hold my hand? Why tell me you love me?!”

He doesn’t know what to say. He makes the fatal mistake of shrugging.

You laugh mockingly. “Do you even love me? It feels like you’re just ashamed of me. Couldn’t even stand to touch me in front of your best friend. Just like that I let you have sex with me, I guess.”

“Y/n…” He starts. How is he even supposed to respond? This is all his fault. He’s only ashamed of himself, never you. “I can’t be what you need.”

An uncomfortable tightness constricts in his chest at the verbal admission. The sentiment has been lurking in the back of his mind since the moment he first started noticing you as more than just his friend. You deserve someone happy, stable, with a good background. Not the chaotic baggage he brings.

“You’re not allowed to have your cake and eat it too, Yoongi. That’s not fair.” You sniff as a lone tear escapes. “You can’t treat me this way, get jealous about dudes and then refuse to claim me.”

He had never even thought about it like that, unable to realise that’s what he had been doing to you.

“A guy at college kissed me, you know.” You blurt, heatedly. His guilt quickly turns to shock and now Yoongi wants to throw up because you lied to him. You were off at college kissing people and then hopping back to him, the fool that waits for you no matter what.

“Is that so?” He mutters, hot anger bubbling in his chest. You nod staring at him fiercely. “I’ve met someone too.” It’s a lie. “I just respected you enough not to do anything.”

The entire atmosphere changes. You’re gawking at him as if he’s slapped you in the face.

“You've met someone?”

He hums in agreement, terrified to commit even further to the lie.

“Who?”

“No one that you know. But you’ve obviously met someone too, so it’s whatever.”

Mascara tears spill down your cheeks and it physically pains to witness. He turns his head to the side, unable to watch any further. He did this to you.

“If it’s ‘whatever’ to you then maybe we shouldn’t do this - ” A sob chokes you mid sentence. “ - anymore.”

How is his Christmas day ending so spectacularly poorly? How is this his current reality? Yoongi’s brain and mouth stall, torn between the desire to rescue this horrific situation and hate you for kissing someone else. It simultaneously feels like a lifetime and a split second before you’re speaking, deciding for him.

“Nothing to say? Really?! Maybe I don’t know you so well after all,” the evident heartbreak in your voice makes his eyes burn. Now he really can’t bear to look directly at you.

“You kissed someone.” He mumbles, weak and pathetic. “Maybe I don’t know you.”

“I’m leaving, don’t follow me.”

He glances just in time to watch you walk away. “Fuck,” He groans a little too loudly, attracting the attention of a family nearby. Angrily he kicks a stone and clutches at his hair. He might be the biggest idiot alive. This is exactly why he could never be your boyfriend, he can’t handle anything.

Cold and numb, and not just from the weather, he reaches inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. It’s a fairly new habit, so new you don’t even know about it yet, but fuck, does he need to take the edge off.

You manage to escape your parents and disappear to the safety of your bedroom as soon as you arrive home. Aggressively you draw your curtains shut, a not so subtle message to Yooni. The implication is clear; you do not want to talk. You doubt he’ll be making an appearance tonight anyway. This was no regular arguement.

You recall that night you left for school, the night he told you he loved you. Technically he never said the words. You. knowing him for most of his life, had assumed he felt what you had. Perhaps you assumed incorrectly. Horrifically inaccurately. And now your heart is wilting in your ribcage.

Stupid, lovesick, little girl.

The train ride back to Seoul is bordering on unbearably lonely, despite the carriage full of passengers. The days after Christmas that bled into New Years seem like a depressing blur that you don’t wish to recall but somehow can’t stop thinking about.

You haven’t heard from Yoongi since that horrible night. You wonder if someone else is occupying his time and that’s why he doesn’t wish to make amends. It’s always you extending the proverbial olive branch. You want him to want to do the same. Right now it looks like he doesn’t.

a/n: if this gave you a rollercoaster of emotions and made you feel sad, dw you’re not the only one, lol. each part is going to be about 20k so buckle up babies! (this story is still going thru editing so if u see mistakes IM SORRY) thank you as always for reading :)))))) P.S feedback makes me happy, lmk what u think! what u think might happen! if you want to slap me for writing so much angst lol! <3

masterlist

#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi story #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts drabbles #bts story

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doeilovr · 4 years

Text

Long Flight

Inspired by this Challenge: you’re starring in a movie with the last person you saved in your camera roll and the last song you listened to is the title, expect it’s a one shot

-> Genre: fluff

-> Pairing: KimJungwoo x femReader, IdolJungwoo x femReader

-> Warnings: just some light swearing

-> Summary: A long flight suddenly seems not long enough when you fall for the handsome stranger that sits next to you.

-> Words: 4.1 k

You weren’t at all delighted when you found out your friend had secretly upgraded your flight tickets to business class.

But after taking your seat in the luxurious business class of the Boeing 777-300er, you kind of thanked her in your mind. It was your first time flying with such luxury and since it was an overnight flight, you couldn’t wait to lean back and sleep.

You had the window seat and were already getting comfortable, when someone placed their bag on the seat next to you. You watched the person from the corner of your eye. It was a handsome and tall guy, that was currently trying to fit his backpack in the overhead compartment.

Your eyes were drawn to his white button up, the thin fabric showing his honey skin and toned muscles underneath. You gulped visibly, your eyes wandering up to his neck and then his face and finally his eyes- shit, he was looking right at you.

Blushing at the realization, you turned your head and returned to look out of the window. Fuck, why did you have to stare like that. You were too embarrassed to look at him, as he took the seat next to you, exhaling loudly. You were still cursing at yourself, when the stranger next to you cleared his throat.

“Excuse me”, he softly spoke. Carefully you turned your head to look at him. He had a pretty smile on his face and his eyes were big and sparkly. He had dark fluffy hair that was parted in the middle. Damn, he straight up looked like a god.

“Yes?” You raised your eyebrows slightly. The boy pointed at the bag by your feet. “Do you want me to put that in the overhead compartment for you?” You blinked in confusion, before you smiled at him. “No, it’s fine. But thank you.” You watched him nod in satisfaction, before he turned away again. Falling into a natural conversation with some other boys in the middle row.

Now that you were looking closely, it looked like he knew half the people in the business class. Shrugging off your thoughts, you relaxed back again and watched the plane get ready for take off.

You actually really enjoyed flying. Not the part where the plane was taking off or landing, or even worse, having any kind of turbulence. But the part where it calmly moved through the sky. The view was great and the food was nice and for once you could just relax back, watch movies and not worry about anyone calling you. Not that people called you often anyway, but still.

You worked as a photographer for a magazine and were often traveling to different places. But this time you were on your way to Singapore, where your best friend got married. Your friend had also asked you to take the wedding photos, which made you feel even more excited.

After safely taking off, you grabbed your camera from your purse, wanting to capture the beautiful scenery outside. The sun was just going down, painting the sky in beautiful orange and purple shades. It was a sight you always cherished, even after seeing it a hundred times.

“It’s beautiful”, the stranger next to you suddenly mumbled and you found yourself almost jumping in your seat from surprise.

You glanced at him, noticing his cute smirk again and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I love the sky.” The boy looked from the window, to you, to your camera. “Are you a photographer or something?” He furrowed his brows, his smile fading a bit.

You nodded again. “Yeah. I work for Blueprint. It’s- it’s a Magazine. I don’t think you would know it, it’s not super popular”, you explained. The boy smiled again. “Sounds cool.”

“I’m Jungwoo by the way”, he added, reaching his hand out for you to shake. You smiled, softly shaking his hand. His skin was soft and warm. “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you Jungwoo.”

He let your hand go, as a stewardess approached your seats. “Would you like something to drink?” Jungwoo quickly nodded, before he turned to you, waiting for you to nod aswell. “I’ll have an orange juice. What about you?” You were surprised how kind and caring he was. “I’ll have the same.”

You couldn’t help yourself but smile, as you two got your drinks, clinking the glasses together before taking a sip. “So”, Jungwoo began, putting down his glass. “What or who do you capture with your camera, y/n?” Your heart fluttered, as you watched him turn to you, a soft smile still on his lips. “Well, I’m mostly capturing people.” Jungwoo must have sensed the passion you had for photography, because his smile only got wider.

“I travel around, too. Last week I was in Northern France. I was researching for a story of an old fisherman in Dunkirk, it’s a town by the sea. And it was even featured on page 4.” You pressed your lips together and nodded proudly at the last sentence. You rarely got a good page and were beyond happy seeing your article on page 4.

Jungwoo chuckled. “That’s awesome”, he congratulated you. “Hey, can I maybe see some of your pictures?” You quickly nodded, always excited when it came to showing off your work. You leaned over the seat a bit, holding the camera for both of you to see. The first few pictures were from the town in France you talked about, the scenery was really pretty. You clearly remembered the tide that day and the smell of the sea.

The next set of picture was from the airport. You had photographed a couple that sat together lovingly and a two sibling that played tag. Those were a bit more personal to you and you found yourself almost blushing.

“They’re really good”, Jungwoo praised, making sure to look you in the eyes, so you would see his sincerity. “Thanks”, you smiled, suddenly realizing how close your face was to his. You nervously shifted in your seat and Jungwoo leaned back again.

“Then are you going to your next job?” Jungwoo picked up his drink, his eyes not leaving yours. “Actually”, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m on my way to a wedding.” Jungwoo’s eyes widened and he looked like he was about to choke on the juice.

“Not mine”, you quickly added, watching him relax again. “My best friend is marrying. And I’ll be there as her mental support and wedding photographer”, you giggled. “What’s your destination then?” Jungwoo looked really cute, asking all these questions with his big doe like eyes. “Singapore.” He only nodded, looking a bit disappointed. “How about you?” He pouted at you, setting the glass aside again. “South Korea.”

“Are you going home?” Jungwoo nodded. “Yes. Me and my friends. We’re all going home.” Your eyes wandered behind him, where most of his friends were already sleeping or watching movies. “Going home is always the best”, you smiled at him, making him chuckle. His laugh was honestly music to your ears. The stewardess came by again, asking if you needed anything. You both declined politely and Jungwoo’s attention was back to you as fast as it was gone.

“Hey, do you want to watch a movie together?” You honestly didn’t know how you deserved such a kind seat neighbor, but you silently thanked your best friend for upgrading your tickets without you knowing. “I’d love to”, you smiled again.

You and Jungwoo quickly decided on watching a movie called Midnight in Paris. Jungwoo leaned over to look at your screen, your shoulders touching slightly, making you feel a bit flustered. Jungwoo seemed fine, his usual smile decorating his face.

Some time had passed and you blinked back a few times, realizing you must have dozed off. Just as you were about to move, you felt an unfamiliar weight on your shoulder, turning your head carefully to find Jungwoo sleeping on your shoulder. The sight of his head resting on your shoulder brought butterflies to your stomach and you found yourself unconsciously smiling down at him.

You were debating on whether to wake him up or not, but decided against it, relaxing back again. You might aswell go back to sleep again, as it was always the best to sleep as much as possible on such long flights.

It wasn’t long enough though. Especially not for Jungwoo. He woke up, a finger tapping his shoulder softly, and found his friend Jaehyun looking at him. He was sitting right next to Jungwoo in the middle row. “She’s a keeper”, Jaehyun whispered and Jungwoo couldn’t even say anything against it. He nodded in agreement, smiling at his older friend. You really were a keeper. And he was determined to win your heart before you would get off the plane in Singapore.

Suddenly it was only four more hours until the plane would land. The stewardess came by, serving breakfast, and Jungwoo’s light tap on your hand woke you from your slumber. You opened your eyes to him smiling at you and couldn’t help but mirror his action. “Breakfast is here, sleepyhead”, he motioned his head to the food that was placed in front of you and you didn’t hesitate to dig in.

With light chatter the both of you devoured the eggs and sausages. You caught yourself staring at Jungwoo every now and then, his beauty was just out of this world. You had never been in a long term relationship before, you just didn’t think it would work out, as you were always traveling or just busy working. No one had ever caught your interest enough to consider you settling down somewhere.

But with Jungwoo it was different. Despite knowing him only for a couple hours, you felt yourself crushing on him more and more. Which wasn’t a good idea, considering you wouldn’t see him ever again after getting off the plane in Singapore. Your heart broke a little when you glanced at the small screen in front of you, the remaining flight time being only 3 more hours.

You continued to talk, showing him a few more pictures you took at the airport. Jungwoo suddenly grabbed your hand that rested on the camera. Startled you looked at him, wondering if you skipped through the photos too fast. He squinted his eyes at the little screen. “Go back again”, he demanded softly and you looked at the previous photo.

It showed a man that just relaxed in the airport lounge. You thought for a second and quickly remembered the guy. He sat down while you were waiting in the business class lounge, earphones in and cap pulled down to hide his face. You had studied him for a moment and something about the way he sat there made you take a picture of him. The stranger had turned his head looking directly at you as if he knew you took a picture. His dark eyes were narrowed and he didn’t look pleased at all, which you understood. He got up and sat away from your sight and you were left feeling really guilty.

Jungwoo chuckled, looking away from the camera at you. “He doesen’t look happy”, he titled his head. You nodded, biting your lips as the guilt washed back over you. “Yeah, I would never publish pictures of someone without permission. I don’t know why he was mad, but I hope he knows I didn’t have any bad intentions”, you pouted, putting the camera back in your bag.

Jungwoo’s heart warmed at your explanation. The boy on the picture was one of friends that sat only a few seats further away. He would make sure to tell him later, so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore. You sighed, noticing Jungwoo’s eyes on you and furrowed your brows at him. “What?”

“I just think you are very pretty.” Jungwoo smiled softly, seeing your cheeks turn a light shade of red. “Hey, how about you pick out another movie? I’ll quickly use the restroom and we can watch it when I come back. If you want to, of course.” You didn’t hesitate and nodded at him. “Sounds perfect.” And once again your heart fluttered, seeing Jungwoo’s dashing smile.

He left the seat and you turned your attention back to the TV screen, searching through the different programmes to find a good movie. You settled for another romantic movie, About Time, and patiently waited for Jungwoo to return.

Jungwoo felt like a teenager again, as he checked himself out in the mirror. “Oh my god, did my hair look like this the entire time”, he gasped, shaking his head as he tried to straighten a lose strand of hair. Jungwoo exhaled, touching his chest to feel his heart beating fast. “You got this”, he pep-talked himself, before returning back to his seat.

You watched the movie together, either of you able to concentrate. Your thoughts kept wandering to Jungwoo, who sat really close to you. His shoulder was touching yours and you felt the warmth of his body radiating through his thin button up. Jungwoo always sneaked glances at you when he thought you were focusing on the movie. You looked so gorgeous in his eyes and he found himself wondering if you had a boyfriend or if you would forget him after getting off the plane.

After the movie was finished, the stewardess announced that you would be landing soon, everyone in the plane buckling their seatbelts again. You and Jungwoo were silent the entire time the plane was slowly descending. The both of you just suddenly seemed to be sad about the upcoming farewell.

It was twenty minutes before touchdown when you decided to look outside to see the city underneath. The sight was terrible though, thick grey clouds embracing the entire wing of the plane. Just when you were trying to convince yourself that those were harmless clouds, the plane dropped a bit, pushing you into your seat. Startled you grabbed the armrest on both sides of your seats, pressing your eyes together.

The plane kept shaking and you started repeating “calm down” in your head like a mantra. A pair of soft warm hands suddenly landed on yours and you turned your head to find Jungwoo intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t worry, we’ll land soon”, he whisperd, trying to calm you down. You looked into his warm brown eyes and suddenly felt so comforted. His thumb stroked over your knuckles as you relaxed back in your seat, the turbulences also stopping.

Even after the plane had safely touched down Jungwoo kept his hand on yours. And damn did both of you wish this moment would last forever. “We’re here”, Jungwoo grinned. But you noticed the sad undertone in his voice, your heart almost hurting. “Hey Jungwoo”, you turned to him. The plane moved towards the airport, the sun having set already, leaving only a few more minutes until it would be completely dark outside.

Jungwoo’s eyes hadn’t left you and he only smiled when you turned to look at him. “It was honestly a pleasure getting to know you, Jungwoo. And I would lie if I said I wasn’t sad that we go separate ways now. But if you want, I’ll give you my number and, I don’t know, maybe you can text me or something”, you felt nervous, your eyes wandering from Jungwoo’s hand on yours to his eyes.

“How about I call you?” You couldn’t help but smile widely. “That’s even better”, you laughed. Jungwoo nodded, letting go of your hand to unbuckle his seatbelt and get ready. “Let’s exchange numbers once we’re in the airport”, Jungwoo suggested, seeing that the plane had already stopped.

While the crew opened the doors, a few passengers already got up to get their luggage. “After you, M’lady”, Jungwoo gestured, getting up from his seat and waiting for you. You playfully smacked his shoulder as you walked past him, whispering a “thank you sir”. The doors were finally open and you got in row behind a few people, forming some sort of queue.

You heart beat fast and you were torn between excitement of getting Jungwoo’s number and sadness, as it also meant saying farewell to him. You nervously massaged your wrist and noticed your silver bracelet wasn’t there. Looking down at your hands, you realized it was really missing. It had been a gift from a lady you had once interviewed in Morocco and it meant a lot to you.

Convinced it had fallen off during the flight, you stopped in your tracks and turned around, thinking Jungwoo was behind you. You almost gasped, seeing he wasn’t there and got even more startled when you recognized the boy that towered over you. It was the same guy you had photographed in the lobby at the airport and up close he looked even more intimidating.

Your eyes widened and you were scared he recognized you too. Quickly you apologized, gaining a questionable look from him and turned around again, leaving the plane as fast as possible. You got lost in a small crowd of good looking and tall boys and walked into the airport with a quick pace.

Jungwoo grabbed his backpack from the overhead compartment, throwing it over his shoulder. Jaehyun got up next to him, motioning his head to the empty seat next to Jungwoo. “Did you just let her go like that?” Jungwoo smiled, turning his head to the empty seat, noticing something shiny. He leaned over to grab the silver bracelet that was lying on the seat. It was probably yours. Turning his head he realized you weren’t standing next to him anymore. His jaw almost dropped and he quickly moved forward, trying to spot you in the crowd of people. Just when he thought he saw you, you disappeared through the exit.

When he finally arrived in the big halls of the airport, he immediately tried looking for you again. “Jungwoo”, his friend called out, walking over to him and putting an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t run off”, he smiled. Jungwoo walked with his friend, his head still turning, hoping to see you somewhere. “Taeyong, I failed”, he mumbled. “What?” Jungwoo sighed, looking down at the silver bracelet he held in his hand. “I lost her, Taeyong. I lost her.”

You walked with a crowd of people for some time, before you stopped to look around. There was no sight of Jungwoo. Your heart dropped and you felt tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t wait any longer, you had to go.

The flight was over and so was your little adventure with Jungwoo.

The wedding went by in a blur. It was the biggest and most luxurious event you had ever attended. Considering the groom had a rich family in Singapore you weren’t surprised at all. You even found time to catch up with your friend Lia, but left out the part where you fell in love with your seat neighbor Jungwoo.

God, how you missed him. It was only a week later when you got ready to leave Singapore again. You where just packing your luggage in the hotel room when you got a call from your company.

“Y/n, how are you?” Your boss was always friendly, a woman that put her blood and tears in the magazine. You had always had so much respect for her.

“I’m good. Just getting ready to fly home”, you explained, trying to close the suitcase with your free hand.

“I have great news”, she announced, “you know we expanded to Asia and Canada.” You hummed in response, curious as what the news were about. “Anyway, we need a photographer in our Seoul branch. And, well, I suggested you.” You held back the urge to squeal. “Me?”

“Yes honey. I absolutely love your work. And in Seoul you’d have the chance to try new concepts, since it’s a fixed job. So, no more traveling. You’ll also get an apartment and of course you’ll earn more money.” She whispered the last part, making you chuckle.

God, how long you had waited for such an opportunity. You didn’t even have to think, saying yes immediately. You thanked your boss probably a million times before hanging up and jumping in your bed out of excitement.

Your dream was finally coming true. A fixed job as a photographer in a beautiful city. It was what you always wanted. Right?

One month later:

Right. It was even better. You had a beautiful apartment in the city center and worked with different people and different concepts. You loved it so much.

It was a rainy morning in Seoul, when you entered the studio you got called to. It was just a regular job as usual. Single shots and group shots, different outfits with a certain concept. This time the concept was love, which you were looking forward to a lot.

Bright concepts like this allowed you to capture smiling people, which was by far your favorite thing to do. There was nothing better than looking through a lens and seeing a bright smile. You greeted your team and looked around the bright studio you had rented.

The studio would make a great casual and cozy background, as the first outfits were all white ensembles. You got your camera and followed your assistant, which updated you on the shedule for the day.

“The group is already dressed, the first one’s waiting over there. Your afternoon is free”, he announced and you couldn’t help but mumble a “god bless” under your breath, as you were always thankful for a break after big photo shoots.

“Why did we agree on doing a shoot with such a big group again?” You sighed jokingly, your assistant chuckling at you. “Well they asked for you, how could we turn them down.” You bit your lips, furrowing your brows. “They asked for me?”

“Yeah, they insisted to get you. They literally begged”, he laughed and you were almost convinced he was joking. “Alright, where is my first victim”, you smiled, preparing the camera while following your assistant. He stopped, motioning his hand for you to look. Your smile dropped and your eyes widened at the sight of the man standing by the window.

It was no other than Jungwoo. The same Jungwoo that you had fallen in love with on the flight a month ago. The same Jungwoo you still thought about almost every day. Wondering how he was doing and if you would ever see him again. Your Jungwoo.

“Hey y/n”, he smirked. You almost froze in place, not knowing what to say. He looked even better than last time you saw him, if that was even possible. His hair had grown a lot and was styled and parted in the middle. Jungwoo walked towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s been a while.” You swallowed hard, was he really standing in front of you right now?

“Yeah, you- I- I mean, I’m sorry”, you rambled and laughed nervously, noticing him staring down at you lovingly. “You look good.” God, did you want to slam your head against a wall. Why did you say that, it was pretty obvious, you could have said twenty other things that would have been better. Jungwoo’s smile only widened, seeing your eyes move quickly. How he had missed seeing your cute smile. After losing you at the airport he had searched online for you. He never had the courage to call you, but thinking of you gave him strength the whole time until now.

When he finally called your magazine they told him you were working abroad and he was almost disappointed, until they told him you had moved to Seoul. Jungwoo had never believed in fate until he met you. The time he had spent with you on that plane was probably the best time he had in a while. And he couldn’t believe his luck, knowing you were living in the same city as him, let alone standing across from him right now.

His heart beat fast and he was smiling widely, although Jungwoo felt like screaming from happiness. He grabbed your hand, taking out a silver object from his pocket with the other. You watched him put your missing silver bracelet on your wrist, your heart warming as you thought you had lost it forever. “Jungwoo”, you whispered, honestly just at loss of words.

“Hey, y/n”, Jungwoo tilted his head at you and you looked from your wrist back up to him. “what are you doing after this?”

a/n: I honestly find this story so cute, I was smiling so hard while writing it, so I hope you enjoy it aswell hehe btw can you guess which member had a cameo at the airport lounge? ;)

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