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gojorgeous · 1 year ago

Text

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

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bunny-jpeg · 9 months ago

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house sitter au

while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*

task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.

that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!

when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.

the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.

four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.

price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)

johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.

simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.

kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.

but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.

other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.

when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*

(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)

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muniimyg · 4 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (24) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: hihi ,, sorry this update took so long (>'-'<) hope u like it <3 personally think it could've been freakier but also planning on another extra of pregnant oc n bbydaddy jk fucking LOL so i wouldn't worry abt it... ch is lengthy fyi … also,, bby2’s name reveal 😝

warnings: pregnancy mood swings, hot tub sex (oc is in her 2nd trimester) pregnant oc, jealousy, dirty talk, breast play, some slapping, kissing, and fucking

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

so much happened before the wedding.

for instance, you two pulled zion out of daycare and enrolled him in preschool. with all your leave time from work, this allowed you to spend more precious moments with him and while still having time for yourself. another thing is that you and jungkook finally pushed through packing up and moving homes. truth be told, you two bought the penthouse a few years ago but paused on the mini renovations due to your busy work schedules and personal circumstances. on top of that, when jungkook came back from new york he talked about leaving the company to start something of his own.

if that doesn’t feel like a lot… you two got married.

married.

in the midst of the aftermath of your wedding and moving process; you and jungkook are expecting another. and wow, does it feel like you two can’t catch your breath. the timing of everything has truly never felt more chaotic yet so right.

you and jungkook deserve every bit of this new chapter.

this new life.

so, with everything in motion, you two decided to take a take a moment and slow things down.

to catch your breath, step away, and spend some intentional time together before the next wave of change rolls in. a cabin trip, tucked away from the noise, just the two of them and the growing baby you carry, is the perfect escape.

when the car slows to stop, you take a moment to admire the soft snow that coats the cabin’s rooftop and blankets the surrounding pine trees. jungkook turns off the engine and gazes out the window. as he marvels at the sight, he turns to you and thinks;

there’s no comparison.

you catch his gaze and scoff at him.

“don’t look at me like that,” you warn. “we haven’t even made it inside the cabin. i’m 5 months pregnant, jungkook. i can’t fuck in this audi like—”

“you’re so beautiful,” he leans over and kisses your forehead. “that’s all.”

you tighten your lips and nod.

he’s been awfully good at making your heart flutter these days… could be the pregnancy hormones. could be the fact that you married the right man. somewhere in between, you can’t even find it in yourself to question it or think any deeper. you’re just thankful. you’re so grateful for him.

jungkook steps out first.

he inhales deeply and stretches. taking in the stillness of the mountains, the snow beneath him crunches under his boots. he hurries around to open the car door for you. offering his hand, you smile and take it. your gloved finger curls around his as you carefully step out of the car, one hand instinctively resting on your round belly.

"oh.. wow. honey, this is beautiful,” you murmur in awe.

jungkook tugs you close and kisses the top of your head. "it's aight. i think you're—"

"oh, my love..." you look down at your belly and pout. "your daddy is so annoying. he's such a yapper. i hope you take after me and know when to shut up."

the first day passes faster than you expect.

after settling into the cozy cabin, you and jungkook decide to explore the small downtown area. it’s a charming place, with snow-dusted streets and twinkling lights in every shop window. you wander hand in hand, stopping to sample street food—warm, savory bites that fill the crisp air with delicious smells. then there’s dessert, sweet enough to leave you both way too full but completely satisfied. by the time you finish, the sun is setting, and you head back to the cabin before 6pm, ready to settle in for a cozy evening.

the two of you curl up on the couch, binge-watching bad romcoms. between the predictable plots and over-the-top drama, you’re both laughing harder than you have in weeks. every ridiculous twist has you snorting, and you spend half the time arguing over the characters’ choices, tossing playful jabs at each other’s taste in movies. you haven’t felt this light, this refreshed in each other's company, in what feels like forever.

it’s a stark contrast to the year before, which was filled with more ups and downs than anyone should have to endure in a lifetime. even now, it’s still hard to look back at those difficult times without a weight settling in your chest. but it’s moments like this—when you’re playing a board game with jungkook, battling over a meaningless win—that make your heart soar.

jungkook, of course, refuses to let you win, which might be the funniest thing he’s done in a while. he’s always been competitive, but when it comes to you, he usually doesn’t mind losing, letting you take the victory just to see you smile.

but tonight?

tonight’s different.

you’re both teasing each other mercilessly, throwing out fake strategies and dramatic groans every time someone gains an advantage.

“you’re really gonna make me earn this, huh?” you laugh, shaking your head as he shoots you a smirk.

“you better believe it,” he replies, eyes gleaming with playful determination.

"does the fact that i'm carrying your baby—"

"no, no, no—d-don't pull the milf card," he panics. "don't be a cheater like that."

"what's it to you? if i'm a milf, you're a dilf."

the back-and-forth banter fills the cabin with warmth, the kind of joy that’s rare and precious.

every time he tries to outwit you, you only love him more for it. this is the jungkook you fell in love with—the one who knows how to make even the simplest moments feel special.

as you look at him mid-game, you think to yourself; you win no matter what.

this is the love you fought for, and right here, in this cozy cabin, surrounded by snow and laughter, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

when the next morning comes, you and jungkook wake up slow together.

over the past 5 months, you’ve been so nauseous, your feet have been swelling (you cried the other day because your old snow boots wouldn’t fit), and your body just... feels less like your own every day.

between the sleepless nights and aching back, you’ve been longing for a break, something to help you feel even just a little bit more like yourself again.

he’s constantly touching your belly and making sure you aren’t bending your knees or lifting a finger. you’ve always known him to be an acts-of-service type of guy, but he surely is a different man when you’re pregnant.

he’s so fucking clingy...

but you are too.

jungkook knows how much you’ve been struggling; he sees it in the way you wince when you stand up too fast, or how you press your hand to your lower back after a long day. when he suggested a babymoon—an escape to a peaceful spa retreat—you didn’t hesitate to agree.

he planned everything perfectly, even down to booking a specialist renowned for her prenatal massages. you both have been counting down the days, excited for the chance to unwind together.

before heading to the spa, you and jungkook decide to grab some coffee.

today, the weather is cool with a crispness in the air that feels refreshing after yesterday’s warmth.

jungkook parks the car at a nearby café on the corner of the street and helps you out. the small bell above the door jingles as you walk in. the vibe inside is laid-back and peaceful—wooden tables, soft lighting, and a chalkboard menu that gives it a homely feel, but the low hum of conversation fills the space with a quiet buzz of life.

you both are a little more sensitive this time around, but who could blame you? between the pregnancy hormones and the life changes, things have been tough. but it’s okay. things are better now.

life has never felt more full.

jungkook squeezes your hand before heading up to the counter to order, while you take a seat by the window, a few tables away from the barista station. from your spot, you can watch him as he approaches the counter, where a young woman with bright eyes and an easy smile greets him.

"good morning! what can i get for you today?" she asks, her voice chipper and smooth, a little too warm for your liking.

maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, but… truly, there’s something in her voice you dislike.

she leans slightly against the counter, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her attention fully fixed on jungkook. you tilt your head and sit back in your chair a little more. this is interesting.

jungkook offers his usual friendly smile. "one iced americano, and one matcha oat milk latte, please."

the barista starts punching in the order, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "iced, even in this weather? bold choice. i like that."

jungkook laughs softly, the sound filling the quiet space and making you smile unconsciously as you fiddle with the napkin in front of you. you can hear snippets of their conversation from where you sit. the barista's tone shifts just slightly—casual but laced with subtle flirtation.

"so, aside from iced coffee at 8am, do you ever drink coffee at 4pm?" she asks, her eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary. "my shift ends at 4pm. how do you like your coffee then?"

you feel your shoulders tense, a little twist in your stomach forming as you watch. it’s harmless. you know it’s harmless, but something about the way she’s looking at him makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

jungkook, ever the oblivious sweetheart, glances toward you. his gaze softens when your eyes meet. without missing a beat, he grins and says, "with my wife."

the barista falters for a moment, caught off guard. her smile tightens, and she forces a laugh, quickly recovering.

"well, aren’t you… committed. that’s nice to see."

you catch the way jungkook's lips twitch, clearly proud of himself for the quick response. he gives you a little wink, and despite the initial rush of warmth from his words, the insecurity starts to creep in again. you glance away, pretending to be interested in the view outside the window, but you can’t shake the way your stomach churns. it’s a familiar wave of self-consciousness washing over you.

it’s stupid, you think to yourself.

but... why does this bother me?

even if he always says the right things... fuck.

your hand then drifts down to rest on your belly, the growing baby inside serving as a constant reminder of the changes you’ve been going through. the swelling, the mood swings, the way your clothes don’t fit the same anymore—it’s all there. it bubbles just under the surface. seeing someone so effortlessly pretty and carefree—someone who hasn’t been carrying another human for months—playfully flirting with your husband only magnifies that feeling.

jungkook pays, grabs the drinks, and walks over to you, placing one in front of you as he takes a seat.

"got your favorite," he says, flashing you that same smile that always melts your heart.

you force a smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

"thanks, honey."

he narrows his eyes slightly, reading you like a book.

"everything okay?"

"yeah, i’m fine," you reply, taking a sip from your cup, hoping it hides the tiny lie. the weight of your feelings lingers, leaving a heaviness in the air that jungkook can sense, even if he doesn’t fully understand.

for now, he lets it slide, though you know him well enough to recognize that he’s not going to leave it alone for long.

the spa day is as luxurious and blissful as you imagined it to be.

you tried your best not to let your waves of jealousy and insecurity get in the way of experiencing this with jungkook… but it’s a lot easier said than done.

you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious the entire time. you couldn’t help but notice the longing gazes the staff had as jungkook walked by your side… it made you feel sick to your stomach.

… like, yes! he’s handsome.

but he’s also mine? so close your eyes.

aside from that, you and jungkook had a great time with the massages and truly felt relaxed. it was so nice to spend time with him like this… which is why a part of you immediately feels guilty when he helps you get dressed at the end of the session.

“honey, you okay?” jungkook says, as he helps zip up your jacket.

you look at him, trying to blink the thin layer of your teary eyes. “y-yeah.”

he blinks at you.

“is your body feeling okay? was the massage too much—w-what’s going on? why are you about to cry?”

“no,” you step closer, your arms slowly sliding around his neck and draw him in. your fingers lace gently at the nape of his neck, brushing against the soft strands of his hair. “it was perfect. thank you so much for bringing me here, honey. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

instinctively, jungkook leans into you, your forehead almost touching. his gaze softens, and there's a tenderness in the way you hold him. he loves this. it’s like you’re grounding yourself in his presence. even though he knows you’re withholding some truth, he’ll take this for now.

“you sure?” he attempts once more.

“mhm,” you nod, making an effort to lighten your tone. “let’s get some dinner, yeah?”

dinner was lovely.

it was the kind that left your heart and stomach feeling equally full. jungkook had made you laugh so much, telling stories and cracking little jokes that slowly but surely melted away the weird mood from earlier. you’d almost forgotten about the lingering unease as his laughter filled the cozy cabin, a warmth settling between the two of you.

now, as you both lounged comfortably in the soft glow of the fire, jungkook’s playful grin returned.

“you know,” he said, nudging your knee, “we’ve got that hot tub just waiting for us.” his eyes sparkled mischievously. "let's take advantage of it."

you tighten your lips.

"come on," jungkook grins, tugging gently at your hand. "the hot tub’s waiting for us. you know you want to."

you hesitate, glancing out toward the balcony where steam rises into the cool evening air. the idea of sinking into the hot water sounds tempting, but the lingering weight of your jealousy from earlier makes you feel uneasy. you haven't said anything about it yet, but it sits at the back of your mind.

jungkook’s eyes search yours, his expression softening as he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you deserve to relax, honey. this whole weekend is for you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "let's enjoy it."

you want to tell him.

you want to explain the knot in your chest, the little twist of insecurity that made you feel silly. but instead, you just smile—small and tight—because he's right. this trip is supposed to be about unwinding, about feeling good again, and you can’t bring yourself to ruin the mood.

“okay,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “let’s do it.”

jungkook’s face lights up instantly, a boyish grin spreading across his lips.

“love you, mama.” he pulls you in for a quick kiss, his excitement infectious as he heads toward the balcony to get the tub ready.

the outdoor hot tub and sauna sit on the edge of the property, steam rising into the chilly air. as you stand at the edge of the hot tub, you strip down your robe. jungkook, who has been sitting in the hot tub mentally preparing himself for you—is more than delighted to watch you lower yourself into the bubbling water.

jungkook looks up from the water with soft, adoring eyes. his expression is completely relaxed yet focused, entirely captivated by you. the steam rises around him, but it’s the warmth in his gaze that stands out the most. a kind of quiet affection that radiates with every glance. his lips are slightly parted, and though he says nothing, the way his gaze clings to you speaks volumes. he's utterly consumed by you. every detail of your presence pulling him deeper into that gentle obsession. (gentle… yeah right). his tattooed arm rests casually on the edge of the hot tub, but even with his laid-back posture, there's an intensity in the way he watches you.

truly, you're the only thing in the world that matters to him.

offering him a small smile, you finally sink into the water and sit. jungkook moves from his spot to in front of you. he opens his arms and you let out a giggle as he wraps himself around you. you can’t help but giggle… you aren’t blind.

jungkook comes to you—wet, tatted, and toned.

as his arms envelop you, the warmth of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine. you can’t help but admire the way the water glistens on his skin and how hot and bothered his tattoo sleeve is making you. for a second, jungkook pulls away to smirk at you… when he does so, it ignites a flutter in your stomach. you find yourself lost in the depths of his eyes.

you’re convinced that the glint in them can heal your soul.

in this intimate space, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in your own little bubble. you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he pulls you closer, a reminder of the love you share, a bond that only grows stronger in moments like this. the steam swirls around you, but it’s the connection between your souls that truly warms your heart, making you more and more aware that this is where you belong—right in the center of his gaze.

"this was a good idea," you breathe. “i needed this."

jungkook kisses the top of your head before he moves and slips in beside you. his arm naturally rests around your shoulders.

“anything for you, mama,” he whispers, breath visible in the cool air. he tilts his head, sneaking a kiss on your cheek. you smile as he does so, feeling like you could melt. “i’m so happy you’re happy.”

you laugh softly, resting your head on his shoulder. "you make me happy.”

jungkook’s face lights up.

it’s moments like these where he feels his heart is lifted. there’s nothing better than hearing you say shit like that. it’s so simple but it wholeheartedly gives him the will to live.

jungkook’s hand drifts to your belly.

“i miss zion.”

you laugh. “even though he’s your number 1 hater?”

jungkook scoffs at you. though what you said is true, he refuses to accept it.

“he’s gonna have to learn to love us equally… or at least, need me a little more,” he sighs. “to be honest… i’m kind of worried about when you go into labour and the entire new shift in our family. don’t get me wrong—i think zion is a great kid. as unbias as i can be, he truly is kind. he’s curious and understanding at the same time. he’s funny and sociable… but i’m concerned that if he isn’t into me right now and he’s been awfully clingy with you… w-well, i’m not sure how we’re gonna navigate through that. our baby is going to need you and i want to protect your peace of mind and recovery… but i also want to be an accessible father to zion and leave enough time and things for myself. i d-don’t know if i’m making any sense but—”

you nod, listening to him. everything he mentioned makes sense to you. you feel the same way and have also worried about how zion will be as a brother. he’s completely capable of it and he has shown excitement regarding your pregnancy—but it’s different when it happens.

“i feel the same way,” you admit, taking your hand and resting it on his cheek. “everything is so new and there’s so much more than just welcoming a new baby… all your feelings are okay and i appreciate you being able and willing to talk about them even when they don’t make sense to you. see, when you do and say things like this—it eases me. we’re not going to get everything right. we’re going to mess up and there will be times where our priorities rearrange and the adjustment sucks… but we’ve been through worse and made it through. this is our life together, honey. we’re going to make it work. we’re going to be okay.”

jungkook takes your words in.

they give him a rush of comfort and feels instantly better. there’s no other way of describing the kind of relief you give him.

he believes in you so much.

you reach over and kiss him. he kisses you back, happily and deeply. when you pull away he lets out a sigh of relief.

“in other news… yoongi and his new girlfriend? don’t they remind you of us?” jungkook begins. “like when we were dating and how dramatic we were about always being together? she lives two cities away and he’s constantly driving back and forth.”

you laugh, recalling all the lovestruck texts yoongi sent you. not too long ago, he asked for anniversary date ideas and it made you feel funny. with his past girlfriends, he never bothered to ask for help or even get his friends involved. he was usually quiet about them… but with this new one, he’s on blast.

you and jungkook met yoongi’s girlfriend a few months ago. just before the wedding actually. she was really warm and brought a brighter part of yoongi out. you’ve never seen that side of him. he would glow while she smiled. it was decided then and there that she would be invited to your wedding.

“yoongi is falling in love again," you say with a laugh. "maybe a little fast but it’s also really nice to see him passionate about someone… and he’s grown.”

jungkook chuckles, nodding. "yeah, he’s head over heels this time."

you pause, then casually add, “she’s really pretty and kind… so i understand why he’s lovestruck.”

the silence that follows is enough for jungkook to realize there’s more on your mind. you glance over at him before finally asking, “she’s pretty right?”

“i’m married.”

“you’re allowed to think other women are pretty… l-like the barista from this morning. she was pretty, right?” you repeat.

jungkook’s eyes slightly widen. his body stiffens, not expecting the shift.

“i think you think she’s pretty.”

you bite your inner cheek. “because she was pretty—”

“no.”

“it’s okay,” you attempt to sound cool. “you can admit it. i won’t be mad—”

“i think my wife is pretty. the prettiest.”

“she was pretty—”

he shrugs, eyes beginning to panic. “honey, i couldn’t tell ya—“

“jungkook,” you groan. “be serious—“

“i am,” jungkook lets out a harsh scoff. “are you?”

you feel a little sick.

not because of the pregnancy but because you know you’ve provoked him. suddenly, his gaze lowers and the unbothered expression he had on a second ago is long gone.

“___, my love—my wife… you know you’re carrying my child, right? not only have you carried my first, second, and now third—holy shit. i don’t mean to sound so angry right now, but if what you’re insinuating is that i haven’t fucked you deep enough to feel the love i have for you then—fuck. we have an issue here. i am angry.”

you heart stops the moment he mentions your second pregnancy. “no. that’s not what i—“

“tell me now,” jungkook demands. “have i not kissed every inch of your body enough for you to understand how in love i am with it? with you? have i or have i not, huh? or should i fuck you right now so i can prove shit? fuck, ___. am i not a grown-ass man that falls at the feet of his wife—no. don’t look away. i want you to fucking look at me when i’m talking to you.”

you tighten your lips and look up at him. for a moment, you look down and away. he caught your look and pulled you back into reality. his reality.

the atmosphere shifts.

“are you okay?” he asks for the nth time today. “are we okay?”

jungkook chases for your eyes. you look at him and feel overwhelmed. you can’t help it. before you know it, tears stream down your face.

“i d-don’t know,” your voice shakes. “i don’t mean to pick a fight. i don’t know why i’m so insecure right now—i just… i didn't mean to be so sulky the entire day. please, jungkook... i love you and appreciate everything you've done for this babymoon... and i know that the barista flirting with you this morning was nothing. i know it was nothing. girls have hit on you way more than that but i think because i’m pregnant and she was so pretty—”

you let out a sob. “i know you love me and there are more important things in our life than to be crying over stupid shit like this… but i can’t help it. w-why do you have to be so handsome?”

you hit his bare chest and he moves back, pretending like it hurt. pouting, you cross your arms at him.

“a-and you can’t blame me. you always flirt with me and get me all hot and bothered but haven’t actually fucked me in 2 months. 2 months, jungkook! what the fuck! this is literally your fault. i look and act like this because of your fucking cum—”

“oh my god,” he hisses. “honey, do you know how hard it’s been for me to not rip your clothes off? do you have any idea how i feel when i touch you and all you do is glow? as much as this makes me sound like a pathetic loser—i’m scared to. if i fuck you while you’re pregnant, i’m literally going to cumbust. i’m going to fall in love with you even more. i don’t know if i can handle that—can you? god, do you know how much this all means to me? you think it’s just me being inside you again—which, fuck, i miss that too—but to me it’s so much more. i can’t even find the words to say how utterly sick my mind gets when i think about us fucking with you pregnant like this.”

you stare at him blankly.

“you’re pregnant—your body is changing,” he pauses. “... and i’m so grateful for you. for this divine body. you can be insecure all you want and i will do anything and everything to prove them wrong—but the truth is… i’m selfish right now. ___, i love how needy you are. i love how your boobs overflow in my hands. i love the bump. i love how flush your cheeks are. i love that you can’t bend and i get to do more things for you. i love that you want me more. so fuck. sorry if i don’t give a shit if a young barista hits on me or if yoongi has a girlfriend—i’m captivated by you. i only know you and your beauty. i only want you.”

jungkook has always loved you.

over and over again, he has shown, fought, and waited for you with his love like no other. to be frank, it feels like every day there is a new reason for him to love you.

when you became pregnant with zion, he didn’t know how to function. he was genuinely mindblown and breathless from how much he loved you. then, as you two went through your second pregnancy and continue to heal together from the circumstances, he thinks; this must be it.

because there is no way he could love you any more than this.

… but he does.

there’s something about seeing you pregnant that makes him fall even harder. seeing you in this light—happier and safe… it strikes him differently. the feeling plunges right into his heart and fills it with more admiration and appreciation for you.

you see, it’s in the little things.

how you absentmindedly rub your belly when you talk about the baby, or the way your eyes soften when you feel a kick. he’s in awe of how strong you are, how you’ve adapted to every change with grace, even when it’s tough.

watching you carry his child, seeing the way your love has grown to make room for this new life, has only deepened his devotion. to him, you’ve never looked more beautiful, more radiant—more divine.

the steam swirls around you and jungkook.

instead of saying more, he leans closer. his eyes lock with yours and you gulp. he brushes a damp strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your skin.

it feels like he’s taking forever to kiss you.

he looks at you needy and desperate. leaning in, he tilts his head and closes in on you. time stops when his lips met yours. he kisses you with such demand.

opening your mouth ever so slightly, you allow him in. he deepens the kiss, melting away any lingering tension. he pulls you closer, his abs touching your bump. jungkook moans into the kiss and you smile. then, he slides his hands around your waist and his fingers play with the hem of your bikini bottom. you let out a gasp when he pinches your ass. he pulls away from the kiss and laughs, before placing a kiss on your shoulder.

then, he lifts his face and kisses you again. pulling away once again, you giggle as his fingers tug down your bottoms.

“need you.”

you scrunch your nose at him.

it’s so strange to you because pregnancy isn’t that glamorous. you aren’t blind and jungkook doesn’t exactly do much to wipe the drool that dribbles down his mouth when he sees you paddle like a penguin… but seriously? the hot tub?

“in the hot tub?”

“in the hot tub?” he mocks you.

you squirm as he successfully takes your bottoms off. he smirks as he tosses them to the side. jungkook then squats and lifts you to switch positions. as he sits, he settles you on top of him. he bites his bottom lip as he concentrates on taking his shorts off.

"come on," he whines. "it's sexy."

“im pregnant,” you remind him. “i don’t know if i can—”

“you can,” jungkook assures you. “you will.”

just like that, you fold.

you trust him.

when he takes his shorts off, he helps you get more comfortable. as you sink into his cock, you plant both of your hands on his shoulders. you wince as you hump and grind on him.

he feels so big.

jungkook playfully pouts. “what’s wrong, mama? you were crying about not having me inside you—now that i am, what? what is it? too big?”

you nod as you come down.

“should’ve prepped.”

jungkook’s pout turns into a mischievous smile.

“why? this is for me. i like that you’re so sensitive. don’t you? you feel it, right? you’re so tight, mama. can feel you clenching. your fucking pussy has grip… and look at you. fucking yourself onto me like a good girl cos you love this fat cock so much. you love this.”

you nod, feeling his length in your guts. “yes, daddy. love this cock so much. thank you for my baby.”

he inhales sharply before wrapping his arms around you. jungkook rips off your bikini top and stuffs his face into your breasts. he kisses them, taking his time to lick and suck your nipples. when he pulls away, he brings his hands to them.

he squeezes them tightly and watches the way your flesh spills in between his fingers. your breasts got so fucking big—he loves them.

“god bless these breasts,” he hums. “you like that, mama? you like it when i play with your tits like this?”

slap.

“say thank you to me,” he insists. “with my fucking cum, your tits wouldn’t be this delicious.”

you ride him slower.

“thank you, daddy.”

slap.

“again. say it like you mean it.”

you moan as he smacks them once more.

“thank you, daddy—oh,” you pant as he twists your nipple. he looks at you, mouth slightly opened and eyes darted at you. “t-thank you for my tits. thank you for cumming inside me and always stuffing me full. you’re so big and i’m so thankful. thank you, thank you, thank you—mmfphh—”

jungkook pulls your hair, tilting you back.

he shoves his face back to your tits before licking his way up to your neck. you feel him throb inside you and suddenly think that the jets and led lights in this hot tub add to the tension. it feels so good.

pleasure is an understatement.

the way jungkook fits inside you is incredible.

it’s near indescribable actually. you must have saved an entire nation in your past life to deserve dick this good. you ride the high, feeling the tightness in your stomach knot more and more. then, finally, jungkook tells you to get off.

as you do so, he lets go of your hair and takes you by the waist. he bends you over. you plant your hands on the edge of the hot tub as he hisses, smacks your ass, and shoves himself back inside your pussy.

he fucks you, making sure to have a handful of your boobs as he does so.

it’s what he deserves.

jungkook bites your shoulders as you moan. cheek to cheek, you both begin to pant. he digs himself deeper and deeper, you swear the curves of his dick have engraved themselves into your pussy.

“f-fuck yeah, mama—t-that’s it,” jungkook murmurs into your ear. “my dirty fucking slut. so needy and bratty when you’re pregnant. you’re my fucking princess.”

“n-not a princess—”

“you are though,” he breathes our sharply. “my babymama… god, i love you. i love this fucking cunt so much. i’m sorry i haven’t been fucking it. practically fucking self sabatoge… didn’t wanna obsess over you even more—f-fuck. you feel so good. i was a fool. i’m sorry, mama. i’m s-so fucking—nghh—”

jungkook slams himself into you harder and harder. the water splashes and the sounds of the hot tub jets are put into second place. you whimper and moan, matching his pace. he feels like he’ll lose his mind soon.

you sound so pretty.

you are so pretty.

right then and there, jungkook reaches for your clit. he rubs on it, elevating your pleasure.

"my pretty mama."

"oh my god—"

jungkook lets out a big exhale. “mhmm. feel good, mama? you like the way i touch you? so fucking pretty. the prettiest. f-fuck, ___... daddy’s got you.”

he lets you enjoy for a few more seconds before bringing his wet hands to cup your cheeks. he tilts your face up and squishes your lips together. he kisses you before moving back to your neck. there, he nibbles on your skin to leave marks.

“i love you,” he pants. “i love you, mama.”

“i love you too, daddy.”

what bliss.

jungkook cums first and feeling the way his cum shoots inside you finishes you off. you cum seconds after and reach for kisses. jungkook lowers his face and kisses you. against your lips, he murmurs;

“10 minute break. can we have sex inside for round 2?”

the babymoon turned out to be everything you needed and more after you and jungkook talked (fucked) through your feelings. truth is, all you can really recall is cumming so much you were afraid your water was going to break. for the past 2 months where you two didn’t fuck—he’s made up for it.

once the air was cleared, any lingering tension melted away, and the rest of the trip was filled with small, intimate moments that made you both fall deeper into this new chapter of your lives. there was that one morning when jungkook woke up early, made breakfast, and brought it to bed with the most endearing, sheepish grin.

“thought we could start the day off cozy,” he said, climbing back into bed beside you. his warmth immediately soothing. you spent that morning feeding each other bites of fruit between soft kisses, the world outside feeling distant and irrelevant.

every night, you two facetimed zion. watching his bright little face light up the screen as he excitedly told you about his adventures with his grandparents.

“look, daddy, i made a painting for mommy!” he shouted, showing off a messy splash of colors that had you both smiling.

of course it was a painting for mommy.

jungkook asked for his and zion said; “i don’t know. maybe baby will make you one.”

during those quiet nights—heads close together, watching zion through the phone or lying side by side, soaking in the peacefulness—you realized just how "married" you felt. this trip wasn’t just a getaway; it was a reminder of the life you were building together, the love that had deepened through every challenge.

as the sun began to set on the last day of your babymoon, the golden light streaming through the windows bathed the cabin in a warm glow. you and jungkook had spent the afternoon doing nothing in particular—just enjoying each other’s company. lounging in comfortable silence, sharing lazy conversations, and occasionally stealing soft kisses.

“hard to believe it’s almost over,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back as you rested against him. you hummed in agreement, feeling completely at ease as if all the worries and stresses from before had melted away during your stay.

“i could stay here forever,” you replied with a soft smile, half-joking but meaning it more than you’d care to admit. “but i miss zion and the mom guilt is hitting so hard right now.”

jungkook chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“do you think he misses me?”

you laugh and then cover your mouth. “did you get funnier or something?”

“haha,” jungkook rolls his eyes. “i really fucking hope this baby likes me more.”

you laugh again, sinking further into him. you rest your hand over your belly. your eyes widen when you feel a kick, you grab jungkook’s hand and place it on top of the spot.

“i think baby will.” you say softly. "hey, we can talk about baby names on our way home! i’m excited.”

and just like that, the babymoon comes to a quiet, contented end. nothing dramatic or grand—just the two of you, basking in the love and peace that had surrounded you for the past 10 days.

as jungkook drives, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the car windows. jungkook hums to a the music playing. the gentle melody soon turns into him singing softly, his voice filling the car with a soothing warmth.

your hand rested on your belly, and almost as if on cue, you felt a tiny kick. the baby reacts to his singing, little movements following the rhythm. you laugh quietly, placing your other hand over his. "someone’s already a fan of your voice," you said, glancing at him.

he grins, continuing to sing as he squeezes your hand. "oh? i guess i’m the favourite. in your face, mama," he jokes. “finally…” but there’s a hint of emotion in his eyes. as though the simple act of singing to your baby makes everything feel even more real.

you laugh and gaze out the window.

"yeah. baby likes your voice," you reply, giving his hand a squeeze.

“you okay?” jungkook asks. “what’s with that look? what’s on your mind, honey?”

"i was just thinking... about names."

jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh? got any ideas?"

you hesitate for a moment, then the name just slips out.

"zia,” you reveal. “what do you think of zia? i saw it a few times online and in the baby name book… i called her zia once last week and she kicked. the name itself connects to light, family, and brilliance… radiance."

he repeated it under his breath, testing it out.

"baby zia… i like it." jungkook smiles warmly, taking your hand and kissing it.

you smile back, feeling a sudden surge of love for both jungkook and the tiny life you were bringing into the world.

the name feels right, like it had been waiting for you all along. you can’t wait to get home and share the news with everyone. you can’t wait to go home together, hug and kiss zion, and fall asleep next to your husband.

everything has fallen into place and life is truly so beautiful.

#bts smau #jk scenario #jungkook imagnie #jungkook smut #jungkook married au #jungkook x yn #bts smut

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yanderenightmare · 3 months ago

Text

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, virginity loss, degradation, abuse of power, Christianity, blasphemy, medieval times, corrupt priest, torture devices, abuse, punishment, misogyny, public humiliation, execution of non-named characters

♡ FEM reader

A scold's bridle, sometimes called a witch's bridle, a gossip's bridle, a brank's bridle, or simply branks, is an instrument of mirror punishment utilized by the church to publicly humiliate women who speak out of turn.

And you’ve unfortunately been deemed one of them…

You can only regret it now—wish you’d kept your mouth shut—wish you’d just held your tongue and spared yourself the poetic justice. You’d even been warned—that’s the dumb part, the part that makes the regret even more bitter. You’d been told gossipping would only land you in a world of hurt, and you, brave-faced and foolish, had ignored the advice. And now you’re facing the consequences.

Branks, an awful contraption, act as a muzzle in an iron framework, caging the head—quite like a helmet—a heavy helmet. Tight and trapping, it’s enough to make your head ache after a mere minute of wear. But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the bridle-bit—a metal wedge about two inches long and one inch wide in size, of which they slide into your mouth, pressing down on top of your tongue—silencing you entirely.

But being unable to talk is only the first and least of many discomforts—as it also makes your jaw cramp up, and makes a humiliating amount of drool run wild down your chin—making you look like some or other rabid street mutt that’s ben muzzled for its own good.

The chunky metal collar you’re made to wear doesn’t help negate that imagery, nor does the bell attached to it—drawing in the crowds to the town square where you’ve been put on display, fastened to the tron for public judgment and ridicule.

Oh, and they are full of it today.

Standing there, an army of justice—warped faces and pointed fingers. The kids throw rotten fruit, and the elders fouler words—calling you a Jezebel.

At least you’re not alone up there but sharing the burden with a handful of other miscreants. One’s bent over in the pillory beside you—another three stand next to him up on the gallows, shaking in their piss-soaked boots, noose loosely around their necks—soon-to-be hangmen.

Thank God the worst things are thrown their way—at least they’ll be set free of it soon.

The poor sinners hang there still as the sun starts to set and most of the crowd’s gone home for the day, crows picking at the jelly of their dead eyes while the town’s church officer leads you away by leash.

With your hands and arms bound behind your back, you stumble barefoot and gracelessly through the streets—yanked along all the way from the town square up the hill to the church at the top for your final ruling.

You’re made to kneel on the cobblestone where the clergyman chains your iron collar to the wall.

You’d always pitied those put in the jougs, though you’d also thought them deserving—never knowing you’d be one of them someday. Now you know first-hand what being deserving means. In a town as small as this, where word travels as quickly as you can speak them, only a few ill thoughts will turn everyone against you.

Everything is in a state of discomfort, but at least you’ve finally escaped the town people’s heckling—now secluded in the peaceful quiet of God’s house to reflect in solitude.

Or… at least, that’s the standard procedure for such offenses.

“Alright then, little magpie,” the church officer announces while unscrewing the cruel headpiece.

It’s surprising. You’d for sure thought he’d leave it on. It was your understanding that it’s common for the scold to wear the bridle until morning and only then be freed.

But in any case, be it by pity or mercy, you’re ever grateful nevertheless and won’t complain.

But then, promptly after freeing your mouth from the bit, the man takes hold of your exhausted jaw and gives you a grave warning in its replacement, “Speak out of turn again, and it will go back on for another day in the tron.”

Goosefleshed and ashen from the spoken threat, you do your best to abide by it and remain quiet like the other church mice.

To which the father hums pleasedly, “Nod your head for me if you understand now, magpie.”

You do, looking up at him obediently—hoping he’d see it as enough and deem your punishment fully served, maybe even remove your bonds and collar as well.

“Good.”

He smiles knowingly, then drops your head. Scoffing loudly, “But of course… a bitch will always prefer being free from the muzzle… Don’t necessarily make ‘em well-behaved.”

You flinch at the words, eyes wide, looking up into his gaze, feeling small under the weight as he leers down his nose at you worse than that of the crowd earlier.

But what really makes your stomach curl are his ringed hands and how they move to his robes.

“Let’s see if this newfound virtue of yours is true and not just another one of your brazen tricks, shall we?” he suggests, leisurely undoing the knots to his drapes.

“When I’m done, and if you have managed to hold your tongue, I’ll consider you disciplined enough to return home,” he explains, dropping his attire unceremoniously by his feet before taking hold of your chin again. “If not, the bridle will go back on, and we will continue the lesson in the morning and every day onward until your mouth is as honest as if in the confessional.”

Your eyes flicker between his and peaking forward, barely withstanding whimpering when laying your eyes on it—the thing below his belly nearing your face.

“Remember now, magpie, no making a sound—neither word nor moan. I want complete silence.”

The grip on your chin tightens, and your eyes dart back up to his.

“Now open that gossiping trap of yours and accept God’s judgment.”

His other hand holds it in a gentler caress from your face, giving it a few languid rubs before knocking it against your sealed lips, ordering them to open.

It shocks you—enough to have you swallow a gasp—almost making an illicit sound that would all but seal your fate with the scold’s bridle for another day of suffering.

“Did you not hear me, girl? I said–” Impatient and roughened by his anger, he lets go of your jaw and deals a sharp blow to your cheek next. “Open your no-good sinning mouth!”

The hand goes to your hair next, tangling within the tousled locks to give your scalp a hard tug.

Again you’re in danger of making a sound but manage to stifle it by screwing your eyes shut—quickly baring your tongue for the priest and pliantly accepting the salty offering placed upon it soon after as if receiving communion on any other Sunday mass.

“That’s it, magpie—” he says then, softer now in praise. “No more tall tales, no more nagging.” His grip eases up but remains to hold you steady as he slowly and rightfully slides his length down to the very back of your throat. Groaning, “Just be a good girl, now. Close your lips around me and suck—and you’ll soon be forgiven.”

You obey, locking your lips around him, tasting the sweat and tang, withstanding gagging as you force yourself into suckling and swallowing the foreign flavors down.

“Good. You see?” he sighs out in a groan, pleased while fucking your mouth.

Tangling both hands in your disheveled hair, he sets a rhythm of pulling you away and reeling you back in close—a tempo more than fair for an amateur throat like yours—only just deep and fast enough to make his weighty balls swing and graze your chin on every thrust.

“If all a woman does is run ‘er mouth—only using it to bitch and moan—they’ll never learn what it’s truly good for,” he gruffs, sinking deeper and settling there, holding your skull in place from pulling back. “But I’ll show yah—don’t worry.”

Your head soon heats up—bleeding red and thick with it—feeling tight and trapped and in dire desperate need to draw air—or at the very least, make some sort of discomforted sound in lack of it—yet under strict order to remain deadly silent.

“Good god, girl—I’m going all the way down that tight, hot guzzle—” he drawls, bullying deeper—and deeper. Hissing as he bottoms out, “Just the way God intended!”

His hips stutter, wearing your throat like a holster—lips stretched around his fat shaft, kissing his pubes with your nose buried in his well-fed belly.

With eyes rolling back beneath tightly shut lids, seeing spots of light in the enclosing void, you can’t help but flinch when hit with the glob of spit that falls and splatters between your brows. But at least the laughter that echoes throughout the church hall drowns out the sound of your heaving for air once he finally pulls out and frees your throat.

Maintaining a fist in your hair, he keeps you close—your temple to his hip, nose-kissing his strung shaft—struggling to catch your breath while his chuckles die down into humored hums.

“I’ve never had a throat that deep before,” he scoffs with a cruel smile—yanking your hair once again, pulling it back to make you face up. “One might call it witchcraft.”

Another hard slap is dealt in the same spot as earlier.

“Are you a witch maybe, magpie?”

And a third smack.

“Do I haf’to tie you to the stake next—have ourselves a roast?

Feeling your cheek sting white-hot, you shake your head—fighting to keep your whimpers at bay as silent tears dampen your cheeks—puffing up and rushing with blood post-strike, dulling to a numb yet lingering ache.

He doesn’t show mercy. Instead, it seems the pitiful display only makes him more rowdy—shoving you down to the cold cobblestone with an evil gleam in his eyes.

“Then let’s see you praise the Father,” he barks. “Bow and kiss his holy floor. I’ll judge whether you're a witch or not.”

You’re leash only barely gives you enough leeway to lower yourself. Hands remaining bound up tight behind your back, balled up and shaking in their knots as you bend over until your lips brush the dusty church stone.

“No, not a witch… but—” he hums, though not entirely convinced yet. “A true Christian would savor the taste of God's house.”

Your brows cinch, but you still do as suggested—producing your tongue and dragging it across the filthy tile—collecting dry silt and larger grains of sand—leaving behind a darkened wet trail on the otherwise ashen rock.

“That’s it, magpie,” the clergyman croons with a sneer. “Put that gossipping little tongue of yours to better use.”

You obey, eyes closed, continuing to lick the floor like a dog—fearing worse things would come if you didn’t. Wanting it all to be over and figuring if you just listen, it’ll be done quicker and as pain-free as you could hope.

“But do you deserve it?” he asks then, after a pause of watching you with his cock in hand, tugging it with raspy breaths getting rustier—continuing with a gritty tone, “An unwed woman can only serve the lord if she’s pure.”

His other hand returns to your hair for a third time, pulling you up by the tresses in a stinging grip.

“Are you pure, magpie?”

Goosefleshed by his darkened tone, you cower under his pointed glare. Keenly nodding your head as much as his hand allows.

Still, he doesn’t seem convinced. Huffing, “We’ll see.”

He drops you again. Now, with a new order, “Turn and bow with your tongue back on the floor.”

You do as he says, though shakily. Gut folding and churning within—throat tight, even under the metal collar, snaring—making your head pound with alarm as you shift on your knees until you’re facing the wall with your back to him, lowering your head down until your swollen cheek neatly squish against the cool stone—tongue splayed out on the earthy rock once again—with your rear raised for the priest’s inspection.

Your nails sink into your palms in the same painful crescents as before while the clergyman lifts your greyed and tattered frock like he’s unveiling a blushing bride—and, similarly to the groom, throws the skirt atop your sloped back, bunched up with the rest of your dirtied dress—leaving your legs and thighs and ass bare to his preying eyes.

He rumbles heavily, pleased by the sight of your pretty little virgin cunt—quivering in the crude and callous open air.

Crouched behind you in perfect level with it, you can all but feel his eager leer rake through you before his finger does—slicing through your pussy-lips and quickly disappearing inside your formerly untouched hole.

You flinch, squirming at the unfamiliar feeling—breaths damp against the ground as you await the verdict.

“It’s tight,” he grumbles, assessing you with a knuckle-deep digit, before scoffing, “But surely… no true virgin is this wet.”

Your eyes widen at the accusation, and he slips his finger out again and stands up with a sigh, “I can’t make sure with a finger alone.”

Then suddenly, he grabs onto of your hanches and lifts your hips higher until your thighs straighten up—and promptly lays his still-hard and hot-blooded member to rest between the cheeks. With his knees bent, a toppling tower over you, he slides through the crevice, rubbing upon your scrunched asshole as he does.

You stir for the first time, but his hold tightens in turn.

“Keep that tongue out, magpie. And don’t you dare make a single sound, y’hear? Or else the branks go back on.”

You fall still—scared in place—eyes screwed shut as his cock falls from the peak of your ass down to your glistened entrance, prodding the small opening with the tip, trying to force it inside, but kept at bay until the narrow ring of muscle finally gave and allowed him to tear through.

“Wheew—undoubtedly a virgin!” he whistles with his head gaining purchase. Groaning at the close fit. “Taut and tight and sensitive—and just perfect for taking seed.”

Meanwhile, you suck in a gasp—tongue still pinned to the floor—only barely managing to suppress the cry that had wanted to follow.

Choking it down, you nurse yourself through it with a string of deep breaths instead—even as he starts prying further inside—letting your cunt hold the head as he gives it shallow digs, working you open to take his full length.

“That’s it—good magpie,” he moans, pulling you back on his cock by your hips, treading you on like a sleeve. “Take it deep.”

He starts thrusting, and your breath weakens into thin stutters—tongue hanging limply from your mouth all on its own. Eyes glazed, looking toward nothing—rocked steadily as the corrupt priest pounds you like a cheap whore—sore cheek scraping against the stone floor.

And still, you’re silent—as if having taken a vow.

The only sounds echoing throughout the church are the clergyman’s grunts and the steady fwop fwop fwop of his balls clapping your sopping cunt—almost reminiscent of the church bell’s clangoring.

“Almost there now, magpie,” he chimes from above. “Milk my cock and take my seed in your womb, and you’re forgiven.”

It almost sounds too good to be true. Even as everything aches and you’ve become certain you might just remain mute forever onward, the thought of freedom is enough to bring new hopeful tears to your pitiful eyes. So, as the warmth of his release soils your inside, it’s also joined by overwhelming relief.

A moment or more passes. You don’t take your tongue off the floor, and he remains above you, pumping his load into your deep, dumping it all at depth as if burying some dirty secret.

At some point, he pulls out—cock now sluggish and spent. You feel its spillage matte on the inside of your thighs—also hidden as he drapes your skirt back in place.

Unbothered with his own clothes, he stands there before your bowed body—now with an accent of full-bellied satisfaction as he pronounces you free of sin in bad Latin—crossing his chest and kissing his knuckle before looking up to the ceiling at the God you’d grown sure he didn’t even believe in.

“Rejoice, magpie,” he mocks while leaning over you to untie your hands. “You’re now free to go.”

But as you lift your head, he still holds out on removing your collar.

Holding your chin instead, he looks down at you like before, saying, “But it would do you good to remember…” His free hand taps your cheek, softer now but hard enough to make you cringe. “You run that bitch mouth again, and in my church on your knees is where you’ll end up. Understand?”

And just like before, you nod your head for him—still as silent as a church mouse eager to escape the beast’s ugly jaws.

He seems pleased with that and gives you a crooked smile, purring, “Good.”

He then fishes the keys to your collar from his heaped robes and, at long last, unlocks it from your throat.

And by God, as you wobble out of the church, it feels as if you've been let free from hell.

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

#not really yandere but i can't be bothered to find correct tags #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #male yandere x reader #smut #yandere insert #yandere original character #yandere oc #yandere male #male yandere

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undressrehearsal · 1 year ago

Text

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?”

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes.

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?”

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed.

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.”

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.”

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.”

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?”

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips.

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?”

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?”

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?”

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.”

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?”

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.”

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in.

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress.

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?”

You grinned. “$200.”

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.”

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.”

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips.

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling.

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.”

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.”

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor.

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?”

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!”

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.”

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone.

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning.

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.”

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you.

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”)

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you.

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?”

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-”

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!”

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-”

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?”

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?”

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.”

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?”

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.”

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing.

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints.

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.”

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light.

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies.

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar.

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own.

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?”

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands-

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?”

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited.

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse.

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk.

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat.

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?”

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.”

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic.

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.”

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else.

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.”

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.”

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart.

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there.

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.”

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.”

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover.

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer.

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face.

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth.

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp.

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest.

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving?

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.”

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body.

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue.

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.”

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone.

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.”

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin.

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips.

“What?”

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no.

“Truth,” you sighed.

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?”

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy.

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing.

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs.

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?”

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips.

And you decided to play her game.

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes.

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.”

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.”

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment?

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue.

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach.

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.”

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.”

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple.

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones.

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease.

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.”

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan.

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye.

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.”

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission.

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence?

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them.

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been.

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs.

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place.

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….”

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job.

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-”

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted.

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-”

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it.

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs.

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity.

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple.

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?”

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?”

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?”

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.”

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin.

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again.

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you.

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.”

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?”

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.”

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you.

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.”

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.”

#listen i'm writing a novel rn so i forgot how to write short things #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian smut #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou #tlou smut #idk man #tlou 2 x reader #i might change the title idk i couldn't think of anything #i haven't written fanfiction in. like 8 or 9 years i think lol

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awrkive · 6 months ago

Text

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.

Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.

Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.

At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.

You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?

But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.

You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.

That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.

Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.

Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.

Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.

Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.

What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.

You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.

But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.

You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.

Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.

But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.

It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.

You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.

It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:

“Minhyuk proposed!”

Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”

You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.

“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.

Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.

“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”

Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”

Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”

Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.

“Well… about that…”

“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.

He turns to look at the rest of you.

“Well… you heard it from her.”

“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”

Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.

You laugh along with them.

But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.

Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.

“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”

She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.

They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.

“It was okay.”

You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.

“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.

“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.

It earns a laugh from you.

“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.

“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.

“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”

Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”

Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.

“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.

But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.

“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.

“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.

“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.

Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”

“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”

You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”

“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.

“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.

“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.

“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”

“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.

“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.

Everybody including you nod in understanding.

It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.

After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.

It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.

You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).

Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.

As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.

It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.

You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.

Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.

Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.

You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.

But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.

Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.

What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.

You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.

There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.

After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.

Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.

You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.

You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.

You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.

“Yo, what are you up to?”

You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.

“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.

“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.

“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.

Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.

“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.

You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”

You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.

“Yeah. You?”

Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.

“You’re driving.”

It earns an instant groan from you.

Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”

You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.

“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.

Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”

Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”

Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.

“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”

You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.

“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.

Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”

That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.

You both enter his car soon after.

“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.

“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.

“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.

“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”

You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.

“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”

“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”

“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.

Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”

“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”

“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”

That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.

There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.

“Hey, what was that earlier?”

“Hm?”

“In the locker room.” He says.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”

Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”

“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”

“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”

You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”

“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”

“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.

“If you say so.” He says after a while.

You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.

As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.

These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.

Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.

“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.

Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.

Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.

“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”

“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”

“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”

You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.

Still, you decide to lie.

“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”

“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”

You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.

“My nostrils do not flare up.”

“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.

You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”

Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.

A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.

It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.

The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.

“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.

You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”

Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”

You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”

Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.

Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.

You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.

“Miss?”

You look up, finding the owner of the voice.

And holy hell.

“Hi.” You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.

He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.

“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.

So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”

He nods. “Alone?”

“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”

“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You take his hand.

“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.

His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.

“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.

“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”

“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.

“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”

“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.

“I quit years ago.”

“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”

Mingyu nods.

“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”

“Not in the past few weeks, no.”

“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.

Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”

You still in your position.

Oh, right. There is more.

“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!

“Yes, I am.”

“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”

And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”

Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”

“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.

“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.

But Mingyu just laughs along with you.

“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”

You arch your brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”

You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”

Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.

“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.

But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.

“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.

Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”

Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.

You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.

“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”

Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.

“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.

“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.

Jungkook cuts in.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.

“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.

“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.

You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.

“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”

Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”

“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”

Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.

“I was just asking her out for a date.”

You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.

But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”

Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”

You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.

So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.

“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”

“Woah!”

“Jungkook, please knock!”

You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.

“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.

You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.

“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.

But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.

“What.”

“What are you so… dolled up for?”

You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”

Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.

Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.

The faux confidence falls as fast as that.

“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.

Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.

“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”

You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.

“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.

“You swear?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.

“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.

You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.

“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.

“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.

You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”

You put down the hair straightener.

“Yeah… why?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”

But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”

He nods his head. “That’s true.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.

“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.

You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.

“I wish it works out for you this time.”

Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”

“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.

You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.

But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.

You don’t ask.

You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.

“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball.

“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.

You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.

“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.

Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.

You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”

The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.

“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.

“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.

From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.

You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.

“Oh my god, I did that!”

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.

You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.

Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.

“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.

“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.

The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.

“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”

Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.

“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”

You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”

Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”

You shake your head, laughing at him.

Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.

“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.

“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.

“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”

You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”

You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”

“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”

“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”

“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.

You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”

“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.

You nibble on your bottom lip.

“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”

You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”

“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”

Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.

“Yeah.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.

It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.

You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.

“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.

You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.

“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”

Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.

Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”

He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.

“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.

Mingyu gives you a small smile.

“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”

What's the definition of slow, anyway?

The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.

Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.

So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.

And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.

You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.

Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.

You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.

“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.

You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.

“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.

“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.

You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”

As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.

“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”

The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.

“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.

Doyeon looks surprised as well.

You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.

“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.

“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”

“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.

But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.

“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.

You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.

Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.

It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.

“I’m coming with.”

Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”

You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”

“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.

“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”

You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”

“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.

Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.

“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.

In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.

“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”

Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.

“What the hell does that mean?”

You feel a slight pinch to your arm.

“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”

“I said it first.”

“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”

“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.

You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.

You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.

The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.

“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.

“Rude!” You pout at him.

“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”

“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.

After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.

It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.

But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!

“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.

And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.

“You’re drunk.” He announces.

You snicker. “I’m not.”

“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.

“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.

“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.

You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.

“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.

“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.

You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.

The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.

“Jungkook,” You call him.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to puke.”

Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.

“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”

He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…

Playground. The swings, in particular.

“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.

You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.

Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.

“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”

You get it from him and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.

“Okay. Puke your heart out.”

You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.

Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”

“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.

“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”

You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.

“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.

You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.

“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”

You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Kook.”

He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.

“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.

You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”

Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”

His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”

“Eh. I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

You look at him again. “Thank you.”

Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I heard that.”

You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”

You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.

“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.

“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.

“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”

“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.

“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.

And then your laughter fades.

“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”

Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.

You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.

“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”

You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.

“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.

“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.

“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”

That makes your lips curl. Touched.

“You think so?”

Jungkook only nods.

“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”

“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”

Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”

“Okay, fuck off.”

You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.

As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”

He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”

When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.

“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”

The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.

It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.

But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.

And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.

Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.

Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.

“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.

When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.

“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.

“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.

You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.

“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”

Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.

“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”

“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.

Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So?” You ask, waiting.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”

You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.

You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.

“Okay.” You say coolly.

Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”

“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”

His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.

Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I wish I can kiss you right now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.

“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.

He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”

Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.

You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.

But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.

And the feeling’s more than mutual.

His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.

“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.

“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.

“You’ve never invited me to your place.”

At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.

“What?”

Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”

“Oh.”

He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”

“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.

Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.

“I have a roommate.”

There you let it out.

Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.

But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.

And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.

You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.

“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”

You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.

“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.

And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“She is, huh?”

Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.

Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.

“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.

“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…

You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.

“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”

“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”

Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.

“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.

You arch your brow. “What is it?”

You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.

“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.

“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.

“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”

“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.

God, you like him so much.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.

“Of course.”

He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.

The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.

“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.

“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggle when he squeezes your waist.

“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.

You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.

You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.

Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.

“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.

"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.

Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.

Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.

It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.

But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.

You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.

For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."

He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.

As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.

You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"

“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You almost cry at his question.

“Yes,”

Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."

And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.

You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.

Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.

Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.

"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.

You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.

As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.

"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"

He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.

"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"

Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.

"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"

He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.

It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.

Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.

"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"

“Yeah?”

He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.

When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“

Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.

And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.

You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.

Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.

“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.

“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”

And he does.

You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.

You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.

Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.

Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.

You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.

Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.

Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.

As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.

“Hey—”

“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”

Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.

Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.

“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.

“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.

“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”

Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.

“Mingyu, it’s not—”

“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.

Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”

“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”

You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.

“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”

He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.

Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”

“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.

But you worry about his words.

“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”

You give him a weak smile.

Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.

When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”

That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.

“Thank you too.”

“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.

You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.

When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.

“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.

“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”

You do a double take at his tone.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.

“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”

You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.

“Watch your goddamn tone.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”

Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”

The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?”

“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.

“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.

“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”

Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.

Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.

The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.

In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.

It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.

Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.

But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?

“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.

When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.

“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.

Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.

… Maybe?

You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.

One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.

PART TWO | PART THREE

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt smut #svt x reader #bts x reader #fic: tlp #awrkive

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briefinquiries · 6 months ago

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Tyler Owens x Reader: Read Between the Lines

Request: anonymous said: "I was wondering maybeeee if you could write some protective bf Tyler ( because i would be swooning ) maybe either someone keeps hitting on her so he steps in or someone maybe in another storm chasing crew is being mean so he steps in and defends her <3 idk"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: language, mild fighting i guess?? slight angst

A/N: sorry I haven't been posting as frequently! I started work up again and ya girl has been BUSY. Anyyywayyy, thank you for reading! please keep the comments coming! I love to see all your requests and I promise i'm getting to them as quickly as i can :)

“Need anything?” Tyler asked, leaning against the hood of the truck in a way that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.

“I’m good,” you said, offering him a gentle smile before brushing a few loose strands of hair from your sticky forehead.

“You wanna come in with me then?”

You shook your head– the idea of sitting in a stale diner with no AC was just about as unbearable as the thought of driving another second. “No, I think I’ll stretch my legs out here.”

“Okay,” he said in a tone that indicated you’d be missing out. He gave the truck a pat before adding, “We won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” you assured him.

He offered one final nod before turning and following Dani, Boone, and Lily across the parking lot. Dexter also stayed behind. Instead of shitty diner food, he’s opted to take a nap inside the RV accompanied by his noise canceling headphones and a fan blasting right at his face.

You were exhausted, down to your bones. You and the rest of the team had driven nearly six hours that day tracking a cell that hadn’t ended up amounting to anything. You were stiff and tired and irritable– just like everyone else. But you hoped that some time alone outside might help at least level out your mood.

You extended your arms over your head, groaning when you felt something lightly pop in your back, before craning your neck from side to side. The air was stifling– thick and humid with little to no breeze for any sort of relief. The heat hadn’t broken in nearly a week, and unfortunately for just about everyone, the truck’s AC didn’t work as well as it used to.

The parking lot to the diner was relatively empty. Aside from the crew’s RV and truck, there was an SUV parked in one of the front spots and a small sports car with a steady cloud of smoke pouring out the cracked window.

You let your eyes wander past the diner parking lot at the sprawling field across the road. The windmills were agonizingly still in the stale air– like even they were desperate for some reprieve.

Your eyes fell shut as you took a few deep breaths, trying to get your bearings.

Your peace lasted for about thirty seconds. And then the sound of blaring music and screeching tires had you turning your pulsing head. Instantly, you rolled your eyes at the sight of the familiar vans pulling into the lot beside you.

Merrill Anderson and his crew started chasing in the area almost thirteen months ago. You knew because each and every moment that you’d known about their existence had been more painful than the last.

Anderson was a meteorologist out of Texas that wore a cowboy hat almost as big as his mouth and an inflated ego to match it. He made sure you and everyone else around him knew that he had a PhD, and therefore, in his opinion, was automatically more entitled to chase. Him and Tyler had hated each other from the moment they met while chasing an EF2 in Arkansas– their feud only grew each time their paths crossed.

Anderson was grinning at you through the window as soon as his van rolled by. You did your best to avert your gaze– hoping that lack of eye contact would avoid any sort of conversation.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky.

“There she is,” he announced, boots scuffing against the dirt parking lot as he hopped out from the driver’s seat.

“Now what're you doin’ out here all by yourself? Your team finally leave you behind? Realized they didn’t need two uni drop outs on their team?” he asked, tone already dripping in sarcasm.

He was an antagonizer who got off on provoking others. And although you and Anderson had your fair share of unpleasant exchanges, you knew he only ever bothered you to get under Tyler’s skin.

Tyler’s biggest weakness was that he was endlessly protective of the people he loved. You saw this particular trait as a strength– but you knew that Anderson fed off Tyler's anger, which you could only imagine was his intention now. Thankfully Tyler was in the diner– hopefully gorging on raspberry pancakes as you spoke. Because if he were to see Anderson talking to you– you knew this whole interaction would escalate quickly.

“Anderson,” you sighed, leaning casually against the hood of Tyler’s truck. The smile you forced on your face was almost painful. “So lovely to see you, as always.”

You hoped if you withheld from his taunting, he might move on quicker.

Instead, to your despair, he backtracked from his van to stand across from you. “You guys go ahead,” he instructed his crew. “I’m gonna spend some time with my friend here.”

They nodded before heading towards the diner, leaving the two of you alone.

“You should teach that hillbilly- boyfriend of yours some manners. If I remember correctly, last time I saw him, he drove through a puddle to splash me.”

You bit back a grin as you recalled the moment he was referring to. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” you lied (it was absolutely on purpose).

Anderson chuckled. “You know– I don’t know if we’ve ever had a conversation just us, without him lingering around. You’re much more pleasant. Both in conversation and in looks.”

You felt a chill run down the length of your spine at his words– but the way he was looking at you was infinitely worse. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your chest– currently more exposed than you would like in the tanktop you wore in the stifling Oklahoma heat. You wished you had grabbed a shirt to cover up in– but they were all either dirty and packed away somewhere in your duffel.

Clearing your throat, you stood up straight and crossed your arms, attempting to shield yourself from his lingering gaze.

“Oh, hey now darlin’, don’t cover up. I’ve been stuck in the van all day with these jokers, this is the most action I’ve gotten all summer.”

You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried desperately to remain level headed. Anderson was a jerk– and he’d definitely make you uncomfortable… but you couldn’t imagine that he’d ever actually do anything to harm you.

Then again, you’d never interacted with him for longer than a minute or two with Tyler and the rest of the crew at your side. This was uncharted territory that you didn’t care to explore. You felt your earlier determination to handle him on your own fade away with uneasiness.

You turned your head towards the diner, hoping you might catch Tyler’s gaze through the window or something. Of course you were too far away for that– all you caught was the glare from the sun.

“You know I’m not used to seeing you in clothes like this, usually you’re all covered up,” Anderson whistled.

As soon as he took a step closer, you instinctively moved too. Except your legs collided with Tyler’s truck– preventing you from actually going anywhere. For some dumb reason, you felt obligated to hold your ground– to not let him see how uncomfortable he was really making you. But with each passing comment, you grew more and more fearful.

Anderson now had his body angled towards you with a look that could only be described as predatorial. “God, it’s true you don’t know what you’re missin’ til you see it. We should have these heat waves more often if it means I get to take a look at this every day.”

You tried and failed to remain stoic. You wanted to yell– to tell him to shut the fuck up. But for some reason, your body and brain weren’t connecting.

“C’mon, where is she?” he taunted. “You know, your sweet side has its perks. But I much prefer ‘em a little spicy.”

He took another few steps closer to you. It was subtle, but you noticed. Anderson was so obviously getting a kick out of whatever the hell he was doing here, and you were doing a piss-poor job at withholding from it, like you’d originally planned.

“Why don’t you come on back in my van with me,” he winked. “I’m not sure how your hillbilly does it, but I can show ya a real good time.”

Get away from me, you wanted to scream. But your mouth wouldn’t move– your voice was lost somewhere inside of you. And all you could get your body to do was lean away from him slightly.

“Don’t be like that, darlin’,” he cooed. He was so close that you could almost smell his breath. Your brain told you to fight– to shove or kick or do something to get him away from you. But all those previous instincts you had to fight back faded into paralyzing fear.

Anderson reached across the space between you to move a loose strand of hair from your face as you began to tremble. “And don’t be afraid, baby doll. I don’t bite… too hard. Owens ain’t gotta know–”

“Anderson!”

Your head snapped at the sound of a familiar voice… Not just any familiar voice– Tyler’s voice. He was currently storming across the parking lot with a look of pure hatred across his face. The second his eyes landed on you– undoubtedly and obviously terrified, that anger only intensified.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he demanded. His eyes were narrowed and shockingly darker than their normal shade of sage.

“Here he is!” Anderson taunted. “Her douche bag in shining armor.”

You couldn’t help but notice Anderson didn’t step away. In fact, if anything, he looked like he was about to step closer, just to really test his limits. But then, to your relief, you saw Boone, Dani, and Lily storming out of the diner in Tyler’s wake– all coming to your rescue.

In an instant, Tyler was there, stepping between you and Anderson– forming the protective barrier you needed to finally feel safe again. Without thinking, you fisted the back of Tyler’s T-shirt for good measure.

“Easy, Rambo,” Anderson sneered. “I was just tellin’ your sweetheart here how much I enjoy her new look. Who knew she had all this hidin’ under those baggy shirts? That the reason you keep her hangin’ around, Owens? I knew she had to be good for something–”

But Anderson didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Because before you knew what was happening, Tyler was lunging forward and connecting his fist with Anderson’s nose.

The crack as it broke was deafening, you released Tyler’s shirt to cover your mouth in shock. Tyler hit him with enough force that he went staggering back a few steps, his hands instantly moving to cup his face.

Tyler was still shaking off his hand when Anderson stood up straight, blood pouring out of both nostrils.

“Damn, that bitch must be as good as she looks if she’s worth all this,” Anderson continued to taunt. Even with a broken nose, he didn’t back down.

Without even hesitating, Tyler moved to strike again. But as soon as he did, Boone and Dani were both stepping in front of him to break things up.

“Easy, T–” Boone said.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tyler snarled in warning, pointing his finger over Boone’s shoulder. You’d never quite heard his voice so malicious or threatening before, and even though it was in your defense, it sent shivers down your spine.

Suddenly, Lily grabbed your hand from the side, causing you to flinch. “It’s okay,” she said, tugging you a few steps away from the chaos– like she knew how badly you needed space from everything. “You alright?”

You nodded, flustered.

“Next time you want to settle this without your little army of strays, you let me know, Owens. And next time you want a good time, Y/N, you know where to find me,” Anderson said, offering you a wink that churned your stomach. With that, he wiped some blood from his nose and began sauntering back towards his van.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Tyler snarled, still being physically held back by Dani and Boone.

“Yeah, and he’d deserve it. But he’s not worth catchin’ a charge,” Boone said. “It’s been a slow season and we don’t got the kind of money to bail you out of jail.”

“Take a breath, T,” Dani said. “He’s walkin’ away. Take a breath.”

You watched Tyler slowly come back to his body. He listened to Dani and took a deep breath– his shoulders visibly relaxing when he exhaled. It seemed to be enough for his friends to finally release him.

As soon as he was free from their grasp, Tyler turned around– his attention landing on you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his previously menacing voice now laced with so much care and concern. He stood in front of you– his body blocking all views of Anderson and their vans. His hands moved to cup your cheeks gently.

“I’m fine,” you said, attempting to convince yourself more than anyone else. But even you knew it didn’t sound convincing. Your voice subtly cracked on the final word.

Tyler stroked his thumb along your skin. The look on his face told you he didn’t quite believe you as his eyes flickered down to your trembling hands. Thankfully he didn’t ask more.

“I gotta say that was a nasty right hook, T,” Boone said, clapping Tyler on the back as he approached. “I didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“What’d that asshat say to you?” Lily asked. “You looked really shaken up when we saw you out the diner window.”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, too embarrassed to repeat his taunts. You were shocked by how self-conscious you suddenly felt with everyone’s eyes on you. Anderson’s previous words had made you incredibly aware of every inch of yourself– like there was an electrical current humming underneath the surface of your skin.

“Just the usual shit,” you tried to brush it off.

You felt grateful when they didn’t push.

Eventually, the crew disassembled– everyone focused on getting their stuff together to hit the road again. Anderson didn’t reemerge from his van, but as you sat idly in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck, you didn’t take your eyes off from where it was parked– like you were anticipating some sort of retaliation.

You remained hidden from the team– feeling so awkward and uncomfortable– like you didn’t want to be perceived or noticed by anyone. And you hated that Anderson’s words were the ones to make you feel that way. You couldn’t find any shirts in your duffel bag that weren’t disgusting. And currently you didn’t have the time or patience to dig through your second bag in the RV. So instead, you wrapped your arms awkwardly over your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible just as Tyler climbed into the front seat.

“Everyone else is riding in the RV, it’s just us,” he said, eyes lingering on you.

“Okay,” you said, trying your best to sound casual. You wondered if he ordered everyone in the RV so that you’d feel more comfortable. You made a mental note to thank him for that later, he was always so good at reading between the lines.

Tyler instantly noticed your uneasiness. “Baby, what’d he say to you?”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his gaze out of sheer embarrassment. “I mean, I think you caught the gist of it at the end there… Just a lot of that.”

You heard his loud exhale. “Just say the word and I’ll barge into that stupid van and kill him right now.”

The corner of your lip tugged into a small smile. “I just want you to stay here,” you admitted.

He nodded solemnly. Without another word, Tyler passed you something he had scrunched up in his fist. It was one of his T-shirts– like he knew you wanted to cover up without even having to say it. You took the shirt– the thanks you wanted to offer him remained stuck in your throat, but Tyler didn’t seem to mind.

Instead, he pretended to fiddle with the radio while you silently slipped the shirt on. Almost instantly, you felt like you could relax underneath the fabric of his clothes.

You curled your arms around yourself and tucked your knees to your chest. When Tyler asked if you were ready to head out, you nodded without another word.

…

It was only seven when you arrived at the motel. Tyler went into the lobby to book the rooms while everyone else hung back. Boone and Lily were going on and on about using the pool later that night, but once you’d grabbed your bags from the truck, you sort of tuned it all out.

Tyler found you sitting on the curb once he’d passed out everyone else’s room keys. He picked up your duffel from the ground before speaking for the first time in almost an hour.

“You ready for bed?”

You nodded, offering him your best attempt at a convincing smile.

“C’mon,” he motioned his head to the left. “We’re upstairs.”

Tyler led the way to your room– and even though this was a dingy motel, you’d never seen anything more perfect. The shades were dark, the AC worked, and there was a single, plush-looking queen bed in the middle of the room just screaming your name.

Tyler let you shower first. And when you emerged from the bathroom, all the sweat and grime finally washed from your skin, he was gone. But in his place, he’d laid out one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers on the bed for you to use. You almost teared up at the sight of just how thoughtful he was… Still reading between the lines.

You’d spent the entire duration of your shower trying to convince yourself that what had happened earlier wasn’t that big of a deal. Anderson was a jerk– of course he was going to say some jerk-ish things. It shouldn’t have been a surprise– and yet, you couldn’t shake the discomfort you felt. It was like all the words he’d said to you had nestled underneath your skin and made a home for themselves.

In an attempt to shake the thoughts away, you quickly shrugged on Tyler’s clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Almost as soon as you sat down, you heard the front door to the motel open up. Tyler stepped into the room carrying his own bag and a couple of water bottles he must’ve grabbed for the two of you.

“Better?” he asked, handing you one.

You nodded and cracked it open. “Much.”

Tyler sighed before joining you on the edge of the bed. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I-” you started and then stopped. Your hands were shaking, but you jumped when you felt Tyler’s hand close around yours, steadying them. His touch gave you just an ounce of courage to speak.

“It wasn’t even anything that bad–” you admitted. “I meant it earlier, you heard the worst of it… I just, I don't know, I can't explain it. But everything he said made me feel so gross… and dirty, and…” And, well, you didn’t quite know what else. Words were hard to come by tonight.

“Oh, baby,” Tyler exhaled. He released your hand to wind his arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his chest instead.

It wasn’t until he shushed you that you even realized you were crying, but it came out in a rush. You clung to him, instantly impressed by his ability to just make you feel so much safer.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he assured you, only squeezing tighter.

“I don’t know why this bothered me so much–”

“Because Anderson is an asshole and he intentionally said some gross shit to shake you up,” he answered for you. “You’re allowed to be upset by that.”

You exhaled against his shirt, and when you licked your lips, you tasted salt.

“I’m the sorry one,” he said.

“What?” you shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry–”

“I should have been there.”

“You were there,” you reminded him. “Unless I blacked out or something and I was really the one who punched him in the nose…”

Tyler chuckled softly, you felt the vibration against your chest– instantly soothing you.

You sighed after a moment, trying to decide if you wanted to share what was really bothering you. You bit the inside of your cheek. It was so tempting to keep it to yourself, but more tempting than that was the idea of finally feeling a little more at ease again after just telling Tyler the truth.

“I just–” you paused again. “I–”

“Hey,” he said. You looked up at him briefly. “It’s just me.”

That was the problem– it was Tyler. And you didn’t want Tyler thinking less of you because of what had happened.

“I didn’t fight back,” you said quietly. “I just froze up– it was like I couldn’t even think straight. And he kept going and going, and I just stood there– taking it.”

Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm reassuringly. “What are you talking about?”

“It just felt like…” your voice tapered off.

Tyler waited a moment before asking gently, “Like what?”

“It just felt like I didn’t do anything to stop it,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure he’d heard you. “Like I let it happen.”

“Baby,” Tyler sighed. “Baby, no. Anderson is such a jackass, it wouldn’t have mattered what you said–”

“But I could have told him to get the fuck away from me–”

“You were just trying to keep yourself safe. Baby, we can’t control how we react when we’re scared. It’s fight or flight–”

“Or freeze,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Or freeze. I’m pretty sure fawning is one too, now,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter– what matters is you can’t control that you froze. Just like–”

“Just like you couldn’t control punching him in the face?” you asked.

You glanced up just in time to see Tyler’s lips tug into a smile. “Exactly,” he said.

“I just wish my fear reaction was a little more effective,” you pouted. “Freezing didn’t do much.”

You let your eyes fall shut when Tyler tugged you closed to his chest. “I guess it’s a good thing you have a douchebag in shining armor to come help whenever you need it,” he smirked.

“Thanks for protecting me,” you said quietly.

“I’ll always protect you, you know that,” he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled against his chest. You really did know that. “And thanks for punching him in the nose.”

Tyler snorted. “Anderson’s had that coming for a long time.”

#twisters #twisters imagine #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fic #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x reader imagine #tyler owens x reader fic #twisters x reader fic #twisters fic

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clockwayswrites · 7 months ago

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5 Times the JL Learned Batman was Married and the 1 Time They Met the Spouse.

One. Two. Three.

“I am sure that it is clear to everyone that the mission was almost a complete disaster.”

“Almost?” Superman asked with a smidgen of a smile.

Hal thought it was brave and very, very stupid of Superman to ask that while Batman was glaring at all of them like he’d squish them if they were just small enough for him to step. And if it wouldn't get his boots too dirty.

Batman’s glare narrowed to focus on Superman alone. “We’re alive. Barely.”

“Batman—”

“No,” Batman shut down Supes’ argument with a barked word. “No. While you might be unconcerned, not all of us are indestructible, Superman.”

That finally made Superman lose any amusement that he had and he look away from Batman, properly cowled. Hal felt a little sorry for the guy, but also Supes deserved that. Not all of them were naturally bullet proof and Batman didn’t even have any powers (it seemed).

“Everyone write up a report: what went wrong, what little went right, and what we should do differently. We will discuss it next week. Expect there to be more training sessions scheduled soon,” Batman ordered.

And then he turned and left with an overly dramatic flare of his cape.

“What?” Hal asked.

“He’s just… leaving?” Superman asked. He sounded a little lost.

Batman didn’t just leave when there was work to be done.

Diana rested a hand on big blue’s shoulder. “I believe you rather overstepped, my friend.”

Oh he was more hurt than any of them knew.

Hal jogged after the retreating form. “Hey, hey Spooky, wait a sec!”

Batman’s shadowed form almost hunched forward on itself as he stopped but didn’t turn around.

“What?”

“Just…” Some of Hal’s bravado left him now that he was actually having to ask; luckily Hal had bravado in spades. “I wanted to make sure you were too badly hurt. You took some hard hits out there and like you said, not all of us are bullet proof.”

Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer. More, Hal wasn’t sure if Batman would answer him of all people. They had found more of an understanding with each other lately: Hal let Batman do the planning and Batman trusted Hal (a little) to break the plan in the field, but they still clashed a lot.

Then Batman let out a weary sounding huff of air. “There is nothing major. Everything will heal, though I could use plenty of ice and a good whiskey.”

Hal let himself chuckle at that. “Man, I feel that. A good whiskey, or lots of bad beer, sounds good. I just wanted to make sure. You’re rushing out of here like there’s a fire on your ass. Would hate for you to be bleeding out or something.”

Another long pause that Hal tried not to fidget through.

“It’s late. I would like to get home to enjoy my anniversary while there is still any of it left.”

“Your— oh, shit, yeah man, get out of here!” Hal said, waving Batman away.

What the hell, Hal wondered as he watched Batman sweep away for a second time, Spooky was married?

#dp x dc #spirit halloween ship #5 + 1 fic #first time write Hal #i think #hope I didn't mess him up too much

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sometimescharlolette · 19 days ago

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JOEL MILLER X F!READER (BRAT TAMING)

Synopsis: You disobey Joel, putting your life at risk once again, his patience runs out, and he teaches you a lesson.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18, age gap, p in v, rough sex, punish sex, dirty talk, possessive behavior, degradate, orgasm denial, age gap not explicit

A/N: Hello pretty people, valentine's day is coming, and I thought I'd write a few things to celebrate this special day. There will be five in total, starting today and ending on the 14th. I hope you enjoy this idea as much as I do. In any case, comments and feedback always motivate me to keep writing and trying to improve. Kisses 💜💜

How many times would Joel have to repeat himself until your stubborn little head got it through your thick skull? Keeping you within the perimeter wasn’t some arbitrary punishment—it was survival. He wasn’t the bad guy for trying to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. Or worse, turned. The thought alone made his stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat. He had already lost too many people. He wasn’t about to lose you, even if it meant keeping you under lock and key.

And yet, there you were. Again.

He found you near the HQ containment zone, cigarette dangling from your lips, laughing at something some idiot had whispered in your ear. Smoke curled from your mouth, slipping between soft, pink lips as though the world wasn’t on fire around you. As if you had no care at all.

Joel never wanted this job. Never wanted to be responsible for you. But Tess, of course, had volunteered to keep an eye on you, which meant he’d been dragged into this mess, forced to play babysitter to a reckless brat who didn’t seem to give a damn about how dangerous things were outside those gates.

“Let’s go.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, the crunch of his heavy boots against the gravel matching the unwavering determination in his eyes. He didn’t slow as he approached, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, yanking you away from the wall you were leaning against.

“Wait—” you whined, twisting in his grip, but he didn’t stop. The cigarette slipped from your lips, embers snuffing out against the cold ground. You cast a glance at the others, as if hoping one of them might step in. But no one did. No one ever did. Not when it came to Joel.

With a frustrated growl, he had enough. In one swift motion, he hauled you over his shoulder, one arm locking around your thighs as you yelped in protest. You kicked, fists thudding against his back, hair falling over your face as the blood rushed to your head.

“Joel, put me down! You caveman—”

He ignored you, jaw clenched tight, stride unwavering as he carried you back to the apartment. Your struggles were useless against his iron grip, every squirm and protest met with nothing more than a gruff sigh. Only once he crossed the threshold, locking the door behind him, did he finally let you go—unceremoniously dropping you onto the worn couch.

You landed with a huff, limbs sprawled in a graceless heap. “What the hell was that?” you snapped, glaring up at him. “I’m not a damn child.”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a rough hand down his face. His patience was gone, his body taut with frustration. His dark eyes locked onto yours, voice low and edged with exhaustion.

“No. But you sure as hell act like one.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as his gaze pinned you in place. He was tired—tired of chasing after you, tired of dragging you back from the edge when you so eagerly danced on it.

Joel stepped closer, looming over your sprawled form on the couch. He could see the defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. It was infuriating, but it also stirred something primal in him. He had to put an end to this reckless behavior, one way or another.

"Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," he growled, voice rough and low. "You can't keep pullin' this shit, darlin'. It ain't safe out there."

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a rough caress that felt a jolt through you. "You're playin' with fire, and you're gonna get yourself burned. I won't let that happen."

Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe it's time I taught you a lesson about listening in' to your elders." His other hand slid down your side, coming to rest on your hip. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you stammered, a flush creeping up your neck. You tried to pull away, but he held you firm.

"Shh, just relax," he murmured, voice a low rumble. "I'm gonna make you understand, one way or another." His hand slid higher, brushing over the curve of your breast. He could feel your nipple stiffen beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

Joel captured your mouth in a demanding kiss, swallowing any protests. His tongue delved past your lips, claiming your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He kissed you until you were dizzy, until you could only cling to him for support.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were red and swollen, his chest heaving. "You're not leaving this house until I say so," he declared, voice rough with desire. "And if you try, I'll just have to punish you again."

His hand slid under your skirt, finding the heat between your thighs. He groaned at the dampness he found there, a finger tracing your slit through the fabric of your panties. "Fuck, you're already so wet," he muttered. "Guess you like bein' manhandled like this, don't you?"

He ripped your panties away, tossing them carelessly to the side. Then his fingers were on your bare flesh, stroking through your slick folds. He circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck up against his hand.

"Joel..." you whimpered, head thrown back in ecstasy. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he taunted, fingers delving deeper. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?" He pumped two fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside.

You could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He worked you closer and closer to the edge, until your thighs were trembling and your walls were clenching around his fingers.

"Please, Joel, keep it up, I'm, I'm gonna cum," you moaned breathlessly, your head thrown back on the arm of the couch, your chest rising and falling with the scorching heat building in your pelvis, but before you could get caught up in the sensation of pleasure, he pulled his fingers out.

Joel smirked at the confused, frustrated look on your face as he abruptly pulled his fingers from your aching, desperate cunt. He could see the need written all over you, the way your body trembled and your chest heaved with each ragged breath. It was a delicious sight, seeing you so wound up and wanting. He planned to take his time with you, to make you beg for release like the needy little thing you were.

"Please, Joel, I can't-- ah!" Your protests turned into a yelp as his palm cracked against your sensitive pussy, the sharp sting only adding to the fire burning under your skin. He could feel your slick coating his hand, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"Listen up, you brat," he growled, voice low and dominant. "You don't get to cum until I say so. This is your punishment for being such a reckless little fool."

Joel grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your shoulders. He held you in a tight hold, folding you nearly in half as he loomed over your exposed, dripping cunt. His cock strained against his jeans, rock hard and aching to be buried inside you. But he had other plans first.

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along your slit, tasting your essence. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your flesh. "Sweet as honey." He delved deeper, tongue plunging into your entrance as he ate you out with eager.

Your moans filled the room, back arching as much as his grip would allow. He could feel your walls fluttering around his invading tongue, desperate for more. But he pulled back, leaving you wanting once again.

"No, please Joel, I need-- I need to cum," you whined, voice high and needy. Your hips bucked, trying to grind against his face, but he held you still.

"Not yet, you don't," he chided, giving your clit a sharp nip. "You don't get to cum until I say so. Until I've had my fill of you."

Joel released your legs, letting them fall to the couch. He undid his belt and jeans with quick, rough movements, freeing his hard cock. It sprang up, long and thick, the swollen head already leaking with need.

Joel fisted a hand in your hair, gripping it tight as he rubbed the leaking head of his cock along your cheek. The scent of his arousal filled your nose, making your mouth water with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, the weight of it as he painted your lips with his pre-cum.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, voice rough with lust. "If you do a good job sucking my cock, maybe I'll let you cum. Would you like that?"

He pressed the tip against your lips, demanding entrance. Your gaze flicked up to meet his, seeing the dark hunger in his eyes. He wanted to use your mouth, to fuck your face until he spilled his load down your throat. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Reaching up, you wrapped your small hand around the base of his thick cock, feeling it throb against your palm. Slowly, you parted your lips, letting the head slip past them. Your tongue darted out, lapping at the slit, tasting the salty essence leaking from the tip.

"Fuck," Joel groaned, hips jerking forward slightly as your tongue caressed his sensitive flesh. "That's it, baby. Take it deeper."

He pushed more of his length into your mouth, the thick head hitting the back of your throat. You had to relax your jaw, letting him slide in further. He was so big, stretching your lips wide around his girth. You could only take about half of him before you started to gag, throat convulsing around his shaft.

"That's enough," Joel growled, pulling out abruptly. Strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock, dripping down your chin. He wiped the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing your spit mixed with his pre-cum across your skin.

"On your knees," he commanded, voice rough and demanding. "I want to fuck your face properly."

You quickly complied, slipping off the couch to kneel before him. The hardwood floor was cold against your knees, but the heat of his body was warm against your face. You looked up at him, waiting for his next instruction, ready and eager to please him.

Joel gripped your hair tighter, fisting it like a handle as he began to thrust into your mouth. His cock pushed past your stretched lips, hitting the back of your throat with each pump of his hips. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving chest as he used your face.

"Take it, you cock-hungry slut," he grunted, eyes dark with lust as he watched your lips stretch obscenely around his shaft. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He set a brutal pace, fucking your face with long, deep strokes. The head of his cock slammed against your throat again and again, making you gag and choke around him. But he didn't let up, too lost in his own pleasure to care about your discomfort.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, voice strained. "Play with that needy cunt while I use your mouth."

You quickly slid a hand between your thighs, fingers delving into your soaked folds. You circled your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as Joel continued to pound into your throat. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure and pain blurring together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Joel could feel his release approaching, balls drawing up tight against his body. He thrust harder, chasing his end with single-minded focus. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep in your throat and held himself there, spurting jet after jet of hot, thick cum directly down your gullet.

You swallowed convulsively around him, trying to gulp down every drop of his release. Some of it leaked out, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving tits. When he finally pulled out, you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, face flushed and eyes watering.

"Good girl," Joel praised, tucking himself back into his jeans. He hauled you up by your hair, crashing his mouth against yours in a filthy kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue, the salty flavor of his cum mingling with the sweet taste of your own saliva.

"Now, beg for it," he demanded, hand drifting down to rub your clit hard and fast. "Beg me to let you cum, you dirty little brat. Beg me to give you the release you so desperately need."

Joel smirked down at your lascivious state, taking in the way your face was flushed and smeared with the evidence of your debauchery. He could feel your hips writhing against his fingers, desperate for more friction, more stimulation, more of anything that would bring you the release you so desperately craved.

"Please, Joel, please let me cum," you whimpered, voice high and thready with need. "I'll do anything, I'll be so good, just please let me cum!"

He could feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, greedy and hungry for more. He rubbed your clit harder, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with rough, calloused fingers. His other hand slid up your body to grope at your tits, squeezing the soft mounds roughly.

"Beg harder," he demanded, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Convince me of how badly you need it. Tell me how much you want to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are."

He pumped his fingers faster, plunging them in and out of your soaked cunt. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, the wet squelch of your pussy echoing off the walls.

"Please, oh god please!" you cried out, head thrown back in ecstasy. "I need it so fucking bad, Joel. I'm so close, I can't-- ah! I can't take it anymore!"

He could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. He knew you were on the verge of cumming, teetering on the razor's edge of the most intense orgasm of your young life.

"Cum for me, you filthy girl," he growled, rubbing your clit with quick, rough circles. "Cum all over my fingers like the vicious brat you are. Show me how badly you craved it."

With a scream of pure pleasure, your body convulsed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, rippling and squeezing as you gushed all over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down onto the couch.

Joel worked you through it, fingers pumping and rubbing, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible. He could feel your juices flooding out of you, your body shaking and trembling as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Finally, as your orgasm started to subsid, he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. He brought them up to his mouth, sucking your delicious essence from the digits and groaning at the taste.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured, eyes dark with renewed lust. "I think I'm going to keep you, baby. Keep you here, so you won't put your pretty ass in danger"

He pulled you close, crashing his mouth against yours in a esurient kiss. He could taste himself on your lips, the flavor of your shared pleasure mingling together. His cock was already hardening again, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently against your hip.

"You will take seriously what I say," he declared, voice rough and low. "If I tell you not to leave the perimeter, you don't, if I forbid you from going out alone, you obey. Understand?"

You could only nod, still dazed and pliant in his arms, your body humming with satisfaction. You knew that no one would ever make you feel as good as he did. And god help you, but you couldn't wait.

"Good," Joel mused softly, pulling your limp body closer to him, holding you affectionately, "cause I don't want to chase you around to save your ass anymore."

#joel miller #the last of us #dilf joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #pedro pascal

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luludeluluramblings · 8 months ago

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Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)

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honeyedmiller · 15 days ago

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Guns and Roses

joel miller x f!reader

synopsis: fantasizing about joel miller gets you a lot more than you bargain for.

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: semi-grump x sunshine, joel is described to be taller than reader, feelings, smut (which includes reader being consensually choked out / breath play so if you’re not into that, heed the warning).

word count: 7.2k

a/n: listen, in my head joel miller is a 6’5” hunk of a kinky motherfucker. happy valentine’s day.

Joel Miller.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see his name next to yours on this morning’s patrol partner list.

You’ve never been partnered up with him and yet, you feel as if you know all about him. How grumpy he is. How he’s usually in charge when it comes to patrols. How he has low patience, and a no-bullshit type attitude. Some say he’s blatantly mean, and others are just straight-up afraid of him.

You aren’t afraid of him per se, but he does make you nervous. He’s got a stare that makes heat simmer low in your belly and an angry brow that makes you want to kiss the tension away. You’ve caught him staring at you a few times and it’s always made your cheeks heat, shying away from his gaze and devastatingly handsome face.

You’re brushing Shimmer’s coat before you saddle her up. Joel hasn’t arrived at the stables yet, so you spend a few minutes petting Shimmer and softly talking to her while you wait.

It’s almost like you can feel him before you see him. A chill runs down your spine as you hear heavy boots on the ground, and you turn to see the tall, stoic man in the flesh. You don’t know whether or not to say something to him. How he responds can set the mood for the rest of your morning.

Ever the optimist, though, you decide to take a crack at it.

“Morning, Joel.” You try to keep your tone light and casual, throwing in a small smile.

He eyes you up and down for a second, but it isn’t in disgust—intrigue, rather. His gaze locks on yours before he steps into the stables, opening the latch door to Callus’s stall.

“Mornin’,” he finally answers. His voice is gruff and raw, probably being the first words he’s spoken today.

You want to say more, but you leave it at that. You may have heard about how he is from everyone else’s point of view, but you want to decipher him for yourself. You just don’t want to push his buttons, especially at six thirty in the morning.

You huff and pet Shimmer one last time. “You ready, gorgeous girl?” You coo at her, giggling when she licks your hand. You mount yourself onto Shimmer’s back, grabbing the reins before clicking your tongue twice to get her to turn out of the stables. You glance back at Joel, catching him staring at you once again.

“I’ll, uh, meet you at the gate,” you say. He just gives you a small nod, and you face forward once more before guiding Shimmer to the gates where a couple of others wait. You greet everyone a cheerful good morning before Joel’s beside you, and it’s not long before everyone is sent on their way.

The sun has risen brilliantly and the chilly January air wraps around you as you trail behind Joel on his right side. Your eyes roam down his broad body, licking your lips as your gaze settles on the gun holster that’s clad to his thigh.

Suddenly your mind envisions Joel above you, staring at you with such carnal desire that it makes your whole core positively ache. You imagine he’s the super dominant type—possessive, territorial, and greedy in the best way possible. You can see him easily picking you up, slamming you against a wall while he fucks you senseless. He’s probably also the type of man that eats pussy for his own pleasure, not allowing himself to get off until he’s made you cum at least twice.

Well, fuck.

A whine almost slips past your lips and you’re back to reality, and your eyes shoot up to Joel’s as you find him staring at you completely unamused. You know your cheeks are burning, and you nearly wince when he has to repeat himself because you were too busy daydreaming about how good he’d take care of you—

Jesus Christ, you need a cold shower.

“Christ, Sunshine, are you even payin’ any mind to me?” He’s irritated and it makes you want to get swallowed up by a hole in the ground.

“Sorry, uh, what did you say?”

He sighs as if he’s completely inconvenienced, grumbling something under his breath and—wait, did he just call you ‘Sunshine’?

“Said the log book ain’t too far from here. Let’s scope out the area to make sure it’s clear before we sign it n’ head back,” he says. You nod and follow his lead, surely trying not to piss him off any further.

Joel ties Callus’s reins to a nearby tree, and you’re about to dismount Shimmer when Joel raises his hands up to you. You furrow your brows in confusion, wondering what the hell he’s doing before he rolls his eyes with a huff.

“Ain’t got all damn day, Sunshine. C’mon.”

You loop your feet out of the stirrups, Joel’s hands catching your waist as you slide down Shimmer’s side. You land right in front of him, so close that you can feel his breath on you. So close that you can easily inhale his scent, and he’s all earthy, manly musk with a hint of coffee. He smells absolutely divine.

You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your face. Your heart is pounding against your ribcage and you literally have to remind yourself to breathe. He’s just so fucking close and it’s so goddamn dizzying.

You should say something. You’re about to, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth turn up into a smug smirk before he turns his body away from yours to walk toward the small shack that has the log book in it. You’re taking this time—the distance away from him—to catch your breath and keep a watchful eye on the area, making sure it’s in the clear.

Joel reemerges a few minutes later, and the sun catches on his gun in his thigh holster. The handle gleams and your eyes are drawn to it once more. You’re staring at his thighs now, wondering how it would be if you rutted yourself over them.

Your eyes snap up to Joel’s once again, and he’s looking at you with a quirked brow.

“Signed the book. We all good here?” He gestures his hand to the vicinity, and you nod.

“All good.”

Shit. Your voice is breathless. You really can’t be any more obvious.

You mount yourself back onto Shimmer, waiting for Joel to lead ahead of you to start heading back home.

“So,” Joel starts, and his voice startles you. He slows Callus down so Shimmer can catch up to him and you both ride side-by-side. “Where are you from?” He asks, and you have to hold back a snort. Small talk is not something you expected him to resort to.

“QZ or pre-outbreak?” You counter back, looking at him as he faces ahead. You admire his side profile like this and he’s all strong jaw, beautifully chiseled nose, and plush lips. The leaves on the trees contrast beautifully against his golden skin, spewing glimpses of yellow and bright green.

“Pre, I guess.”

“California. You?”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “Texas. So you’re a city girl?”

This time you can’t help but huff a laugh and roll your eyes.

“No, Texas, not all of California is glitz and glamour,” you’re full-on giggling now, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in what you assume to be his half-assed attempt at smiling.

“What do you miss most about it?”

You don’t even need to think about it. Without missing a beat, you look at him with a soft smile before murmuring, “The ocean.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. You both head back into the gates of Jackson in peace, dismounting the horses and going about your days after reporting back to Maria.

Over the next couple of weeks, you’re getting paired with Joel every time you’re on morning patrol. You keep fantasizing about him and having him in the dirtiest way possible, and the tension is growing rapidly.

Joel’s jaw is taut when you bat your lashes up at him, and your cheery demeanor has his walls slowly crumbling down just for you.

It’s too much, though. The tension is palpable, nearly making you suffocate in the want and desire you have for this man—someone you have absolutely no business pining after.

You have to ask Tommy to take you off of patrol duty for a few days and have someone else fill in while you volunteer to take care of the horses in the stables or tend to the greenhouse.

You don’t see Joel for nearly a week, and you come to the realization that it kind of drives you crazy.

The next time you see him is at dinner in the mess hall. Joel stands in all his glory, sporting a green flannel that hugs his biceps perfectly and pants that hang on his hips like a glove. He’s also got that damn holster strapped around his thigh again, probably because he had just gotten back from patrol not too long ago.

When his eyes meet yours from across the room, you know you’re doomed.

And when he shoots you a barely there smile, but one you recognize nonetheless, you’re absolutely done for.

You swallow harshly and go back to paying attention to the conversation happening with your table, trying to ignore the holes he’s burning into your head. A dark, desirable warmth stirs deep in you and you have to force yourself to pay attention to what’s going on around you. The whiskey you drank definitely isn’t helping you, either.

You barely talk all dinner though, too nervous with the older Miller brother’s lingering gaze on you for most of the night.

You clean up after you’ve eaten and give Maria a grateful smile and hug, thanking her for a wonderful dinner. She eyes you conspicuously, knowing that you love being a part of community events since tonight is movie night. She finds it odd when you tell her you’re turning in early tonight, but she lets it go without question.

You walk out of the mess hall, shivering immediately as the cold air hits your body. You weren’t very well dressed for the cold weather, and while it was nice in the mess hall, you’re regretting not layering up this when it’s so cold outside.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you, walking fast to try and catch up to you. Once again, you can already tell who it is before you even turn around.

“Leavin’ so early, Sunshine?” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, but it can easily be passed off as being too cold.

“Um, yeah, gonna turn in for the night.” You muster up a tight-lipped smile, not meeting his eyes before turning back around.

Joel puts a hand on your shoulder and electricity zings through your entire body. “Reckon I can walk you home, since I’m already out here.”

Fuck.

“Sure,” you say, tensing under his touch. You can’t see it, but he furrows his brows at you and cautiously falls in step with you as you walk back home.

“Jesus, Sunshine, you’re freezin’.” He takes off his thick coat and wraps it around your shoulders, and you’re nearly a fucking puddle on the floor. The coat smells like him and it takes everything in you to not bury your nose in the fabric and inhale. His scent is intoxicating.

Everything about him is intoxicating.

It’s not long before you both reach your doorstep after a few minutes of walking in silence. You fumble with the key to open your front door, nerves heightening once again.

Jesus Christ, you need to get a hold of yourself.

Once you get the door open, you stand there for a beat before looking up at him. He’s all alluring brown eyes and subtle sexy smirk that makes you gooey in the knees.

You contemplate it for a moment, but before you can overthink your decision, you bite the bullet and ask against your better judgement. “Do you want to come in?”

He hesitates, assessing you. He nods after a few seconds and follows you inside, and you feel your pulse start to race quicker. It’s irritating how much of an effect he has on you, and he doesn’t even know it.

“Nice place you got,” he says, running a hand through his hair before taking a seat on your couch. He spreads his thighs wide, taking up so much fucking room, and all it makes you want to do is be all over him.

There’s just no fucking way he doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.

“Thank you.” You don’t really know what to say to him at this point. Conversation flowed so easily on patrol, but now you’re in this confined space with him and want nothing more than his lips on yours, consuming your entire being.

“Can I, uh, get you anything?”

Be more awkward, yeah? You chastise yourself for being unable to behave normally around him.

“Just your company,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. You swallow thickly and make your way over, plopping yourself down on the couch, leaving enough distance between the two of you.

He chuckles lowly under his breath, but you still hear it against the stark quietness of your quaint home.

“So how come I haven’t seen you on patrol lately?” His deep voice is like plunging into a warm, dark abyss. It’s full of the unknown but so comforting at the same time, and it makes your head swim.

You shrug your shoulders, gaze moving to your hands that fidget in your lap. “Just wanted to focus on helping out elsewhere.”

“Bullshit. I think you’re lying.” He says it with such confidence, cocking his head to the side as he studies you. You didn’t think he’d call you out so easily.

Your brows shoot up. “I am not—!”

Even you could hear the blatant defensiveness in your tone. You look at him with a fiery gaze, brows furrowed downward at his all-too-true accusations.

“You are. Why haven’t you been on patrol?” His voice is huskier now, knowingly eyeing you like he can see right through you.

“Dammit, Joel,” you huff, tipping your head back against the couch. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth.”

The truth. As if it were that simple.

Yeah Joel, truth is that me, little miss innocent Sunshine, has been fantasizing about you fucking my brains out every time I see you, you think.

Joel moves closer and his face is mere inches away from yours, brown eyes intense as they watch you in such a way that sends a shiver down your spine. Your gaze shifts elsewhere because the tension is too much, and you’re left feeling like a shell of a woman under his scrutiny.

And that’s when you realize he already knows. You don’t need to tell him shit, because somehow, some way, he knows your dirty little secret and the ways you fantasize about him.

“Trust me, Sunshine. Last thing you want is to get tangled up with a guy like me.”

Your eyes snap up to his.

”And that’s where you’re wrong, Joel. I want you.”

“‘S a dangerous game you’re playin’, baby.”

Baby.

“I’m not playing games, Joel,” you say. There’s a finality in your voice that really let him know you weren’t fucking around. “You seriously wanna know why I asked Tommy to be taken off of patrol?”

He gives you a slow, singular nod. The muscle in his jaw ticks as something fiery blazes behind his darkened eyes.

“Every single time I’m around you, I feel like I can’t fucking breathe. Your presence is all-consuming, and every time I look at you, all I can picture is the ways I want you to have me. It’s not normal, Joel. That—that is why I asked to be taken off of patrol.”

His expression doesn’t waver, but the muscle in his jaw ticks impossibly faster. He’s as still as a statue, and it’s so fucking quiet that you can hear a pin drop.

There’s also another reason why you didn’t want to tell him: rejection.

You can see him fighting a battle in his head, and this is already humiliating enough as it is. You don’t think you can handle the I don’t want you words that’ll eventually spill out of his mouth, so you stand up and take a deep breath, walking toward the door. You tug it open and his brows furrow as you stare at him expectantly.

“I just—please, just leave.”

His lips flatten into a straight line before he stands up and takes a few strides to get to where you’re at. He’s gazing down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something before he snaps it shut seconds later. His face hardens into that infamous grumpy stare, all harsh lines and tight jaw.

He walks out without saying another word.

You close your front door and slump against it, heaving out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Your eyes snap up to the ceiling, and regret begins to sink her nasty claws into your skin.

Fuck.

A couple of weeks pass after that whole incident in your house with Joel. You’re awoken by a loud knock on your door, and you grumble the whole way down before opening it. Tommy stands in the frame with a pleading look, and you furrow your brows as you try to fully wake up.

“Tommy…?”

“Hey sweetheart. I need a big favor,” he says. He shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking like he wants to dash away at any given second.

“What is it?”

“Christy called out from her patrol shift today and you’re pretty much the only one who knows the routes well enough to cover.”

You scrub your face with your hands, and peek an eye out from behind your fingers.

“Only because it’s you, Tommy,” you huff a laugh, and he flashes you his bright smile.

“You’re a lifesaver. Maria and I are really grateful.”

“It’s the least I can do,” you say, but then you pause. “Who’s my partner for this shift?”

Tommy’s eyes avert to the wood on your porch, and you immediately knew. You didn’t know how much Tommy knew about this thing, whatever the hell it was, between you and Joel.

You’re not really sure it’s a thing anymore, though, considering you kicked him out after telling him how you really feel. You have no idea what’s going to happen on patrol today, and you really don’t want to find out, but Tommy and Maria took you in when you were at your lowest.

You literally owe them your life.

“Will you still cover?” His voice is soft. The corner of your lips twitch up into an almost smile, and you reach out to pat his arm.

“For you and Maria.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the stables at the crack of dawn, making sure the saddle on Shimmer was secure.

Heavy footsteps enter the stables, and you already know who it is. You hear another pair of footsteps not too far behind, and you don’t turn around until you hear Tommy call your name.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you while you’re still here. Are you still good to come over to ours later and help Maria with the cupcakes?”

You hoist yourself up onto Shimmer and give Tommy a smile.

“‘Course.”

”You goin’ with anyone to do the dance?” Tommy asks, and Joel looks between you both. The Valentine’s dance is coming up tonight, and you told Maria you’d help with whatever she needed. You just didn’t plan on going.

“Nah,” you wave him off playfully. “I don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Oh c’mon, you oughta meet a handsome fella—or lady, I don’t discriminate—at the dance.”

Your eyes flicker to Joel for a split second only to find him already staring at you, before you look back to Tommy. You roll your lips into your mouth before shrugging with a small smile.

“Maybe.”

“Well just think about it,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. You give him a nod and your eyes drift to Joel one last time before moving Shimmer out of the stables and toward the gate.

You greet everyone at the gate before Joel makes his way beside you, and you’re all sent on your way. You silently follow Joel, an unspoken rule between you both that he’s obviously in charge. He doesn’t attempt conversation, and you know better than to poke the bear, but the tension is still palpable.

You make it to your assigned area before hopping off of Shimmer, shotgun tightly gripped in your hand.

“I’ll go scope around back,” you say, treading off before he can even reply.

You’re lost in thought as you look around, until you hear a branch break behind you. You swing around so fast that you almost hit Joel with your shotgun.

“Jesus, Sunshine, it’s just me,” he says, frowning.

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that, dammit! I could’ve shot you!”

“But you didn’t. You’re cute when you’re mad.” Amusement wraps around his words and he smirks at you, and you roll your eyes.

“So you don’t hate me, huh?” You ask, and you know it’s probably stupid to even take the conversation in that direction, but what else have you got to lose?

He’s quiet for a moment, looking beyond the trees as he sighs.

“No, Sunshine, I don’t hate you.”

You meet his gaze as you look up at him, his tall frame turning toward you as he walks closer, forcing you to step backwards until your back hits a wooden wall. He rests one hand beside your head and stares down at you.

You know he can easily see the effect he has on you, with the way your breathing picks up and the furrow between your brow. You can’t even meet his gaze, because you know if you do, you’re absolutely done for.

“Why’d you kick me out of your place the other day?”

You take a moment to try and collect yourself as best as you possibly can, but you know it’s no use.

“I didn’t want to get rejected. It’s already humiliating enough to admit that you drive me fucking crazy.”

“How so?” He leans down, nosing at your jaw before placing a kiss below your ear. You gasp, closing your eyes to relish the feeling of his lips on you.

You need them everywhere.

“Just—you—fuck,” you sigh. You can’t even get a coherent thought out with his proximity and intoxicating scent and warmth wrapping around you, welcoming you into something much more desirable.

His lips are at your ear.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he whispers, and you bite back a moan as he presses his lips against your neck. “Does this look like rejection to you?”

“Joel—”

“Fuck, darlin’—drive you crazy? You have absolutely no idea what you do to me. Not a fuckin’ clue.”

“What do I do to you, Joel?” Your voice is meek as you stare up at him, trying to find your bearings.

He stares at you for what seems like a century, before leaning down so close that his nose brushes against yours. He hesitates, and you figure it's because he doesn’t want to push you if you don’t want to do this.

You’ve already made it abundantly clear, so you meet him the rest of the way and envelope your lips with his.

The feeling is cosmic—better than anything you’d ever expected. It’s the kind of kiss that sends tingles down your spine and makes your toes curl in delight.

You moan in desperation, tugging him closer to you by the sherpa lapel of his jacket, tangling your other free hand in his soft curls at the base of his skull.

He groans into your mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and you get lost in the art of kissing each other.

You don’t know how long you’re there pawing at each other like a couple of desperate, touch-deprived fools, but eventually you pull away because your lungs are fucking burning for air.

You pant against his lips, tightening your hold on his lapel.

“I wish you woulda let me say my piece instead of kicking me out,” Joel confesses. You lean your head back onto the building and sigh, looking up through the treeline.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I was just scared.”

“Ain’t a thing to be scared of, baby. As much as I’d love to continue this, I reckon it’s best we get goin’. They’re gonna wonder where we’re at.”

Your eyes flutter closed as you nod, pushing yourself off the building. You scope the area with him one more time and to your luck, no activity to report. Joel signs the log book and you both head back to Jackson in a comfortable silence, a total one-eighty from earlier.

You leave each other at the stables with not another word spoken, but a longing gaze that says everything you’re both feeling.

You head to Tommy and Maria’s house to help Maria with the cupcakes as promised, and you head home that night with the older Miller brother on your mind yet again.

By the time everyone is heading over to the dance, you’re all cozy in your oversized t-shirt and a book in your hand. You’ve just showered, and knowing you have off tomorrow from any and all work has you feeling extra relaxed.

A knock on your front door startles you though, and you dog-ear the page you’re reading and set the book on your bedside, but you hear heavy boots walking up the steps already. You scramble and grab your pistol from your nightstand, standing on your knees on your mattress as you hear the footsteps getting closer to your bedroom door.

“Sunshine?” Joel’s voice calls, and you sigh in relief as you switch the safety back on and toss your pistol onto your nightstand.

He’s in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he takes the image of you in. The t-shirt you’re wearing only falls to the middle of your thighs, and you’re not wearing anything but panties underneath.

The sight of him staring at you in such a hungry way has you gasping softly, and the feeling of arousal already sticks to your underwear.

You take this opportunity to stare at him, too. Your eyes roam slowly down his frame, and yet again you’re fantasizing about all of the things you want to do with him.

Your eyes halt halfway down his thigh—and you couldn’t help yourself.

You kept staring at the holster, perfectly wrapped around his thick thigh. The leather was a parcel of fine craftsmanship, made to fit him like a glove.

The gun in the holster was the cherry on top as it sat flush against his body, and you just couldn’t stop fucking staring.

Joel was waiting for you to pounce—challenging you, mocking you. He quirks his eyebrow up at you as he crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps pop.

You swallow thickly as you force your gaze to meet his eyes, which have so clearly darkened.

“Sweet girl,” Joel groans, “Keep starin’ at me and my thigh holster like that and I might just have to choke you out with it.”

Oh, fuck. You clench around nothing at the thought.

You nearly whimper as he crosses the room to get to your bed, towering over you once again. His large palm cups your cheek and you can’t help but look up at him like you’re mesmerized.

Maybe you really are.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip before tugging it down, and that dangerous smirk is back on his lips.

“Tell me,” he says.

You’re so entranced by this man that it takes your brain a few seconds to catch up and process what he just said.

“What?”

“Tell me what you fantasize about.”

Your eyes dart to the pink comforter on your bed.

Joel tsks and shakes his head, hand moving to your jaw so you have to look up at him.

“Tell me, baby. I want to give it to you.”

He lets go of your jaw and sits down next to you on the bed, tugging you onto him so you’re straddling his thigh.

You look down at his denim-clad leg, biting your lip before Joel ruts you forward.

“Stare at my thighs so goddamn much you might as well ride it, hm?” He strokes the back of your head, and your eyebrows furrow at the delicious friction.

You nod. “This was one of the things,” you say.

“I know, baby. Use me. Wanna see you get off by pleasin’ yourself on me.”

You sharply inhale. He moves his hands down to your thighs, pushing the t-shirt up to your hips before dipping one hand between your legs. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and hums as he rubs your aching pussy through the fabric of your underwear.

“Fuckin’ soaked already, Sunshine. Can’t believe I really do this to you.”

“Why’s it so hard to believe?” You ask, testing the waters by rutting your hips forward once. You softly moan at the feeling, and Joel moves his hands to settle on your hips.

“‘Cus, I’m the mean grumpy ol’ bastard of the town and you’re the sweet, innocent happy woman that gets on well with everyone.”

You laugh at that, moving your hands to his shoulders to give them a squeeze. You quirk a playful brow at him before rutting your hips once more.

“Who said I was innocent?”

You tilt your head, and his eyes get impossibly darker. Joel hums, considering you for a second.

“I like it rough, baby, so you gotta tell me if anythin’ I do is too much.”

You clench around nothing once again, feeling your arousal seep down your thighs. The thought of him being rough with you sends you over the fucking moon.

“Will do, cowboy.”

The corner of his mouth tilts into an almost smile, and he leans in to kiss you with the same hunger from earlier. It’s easy to follow his lead, as your hands find his curls once more and you start to rut your hips.

Your feet barely touch the ground like this, but ever the gentleman Joel is, he helps you by moving your hips back and forth with his hands at your hips. You’re panting his name and his face is buried in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping the skin there.

“That’s it, there you go,” he coos. “Wish you can see how pretty you look gettin’ off on me. Fuckin’ stunner you are.”

You inhale sharply and squeeze your eyes shut, tossing your head back between your shoulders. Joel dips his head down and captures a clothed nipple into his mouth, and you let out a loud whine.

It’s almost too much, with the delicious pressure on your aching clit, hands roaming over your hot skin and the expertise of his mouth.

You feel the white-hot sensation shoot through you, and you bow your back as your orgasm blindsides you and forcefully crashes through you.

“Joel!” You gasp his name as he brings his hand down between your legs, cupping your sex and rubbing you through the thin fabric before he tosses you onto the bed.

You’re staring at your ceiling trying to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you two seconds to think before he’s on top of you. His lips clash with yours, all teeth and tongue and desperation, before he’s tugging off your underwear and shirt to fling them across your bedroom behind him.

You sit up on your elbows as you stare at him, watching him as he slowly unbuttons his flannel, tossing it on the floor with your clothes.

His tanned skin glows in the sunset through your windows, and the shadows carve out the muscles in his biceps perfectly. He looks ethereal like this, towering over you with a hungry, insatiable stare.

He unstraps his thigh holster from himself, sliding the gun across the floor and tossing the holster onto the bed next to you.

He hovers over you once again, smirking down at you as he looks at the pretty, glistening mess between your legs.

He wraps his arms around your thighs and he drags you toward the edge of the bed, flipping you over before harshly smacking your ass.

You suck in a breath at the sting and he’s hungrily watching the way you clench around nothing.

“Oh you like that, huh pretty girl?” He asks, tone nothing short of dark and teasing.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Fuck, yes, Joel.”

His calloused hands massage your ass, giving it another smack before you hear shuffling behind you. You turn your head to see that he’s kneeling behind you, and he looks right into your eyes as he spits on your pussy. You moan at the sight, and he grabs your thighs before burying his face in your cunt.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, relishing in the feeling of his tongue working your slick, aching core so expertly.

Each flick of his tongue has purpose, so fluidly blending together that it feels like a fucking composer conducting an orchestra.

Your body is a violin, a piano, a flute.

A symphony waiting to reach crescendo.

His tongue glides and prods and his mouth eats you like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have, and you’re grabbing onto your pretty pink comforter for dear life as you gasp and moan his name louder and louder with each pass, each flick.

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as his tongue sinks into your warmth, fucking you for a brief few seconds before traveling upward toward your asshole.

He stays there, licking and kissing your tight little hole, going to a place nobody ever has before.

You reach back and thread your fingers through his hair, forcing his face into your flesh as he greedily licks you up. He moves his tongue back down to your pussy, drinking your arousal like you’re the finest nectar on Earth.

Hell, to him, maybe you are.

That devastating bliss curls around you and your insides once more, and when Joel wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, you’re absolutely done for.

You scream his name like a prayer on Sunday, tears forming in your waterline as this orgasm rips through you more forcefully than the last. You’re quivering by the time he stands up straight again.

“I could eat that sweet little pussy for the rest of my God-given life,” he says, and you look back at him with a weak half smile.

You’re already so fucked out, but you know he isn’t done with you yet. Your eyes move down to the bulge in his jeans, and the outline of him makes your mouth water.

“Let me suck your dick,” you say, and Joel chuckles before leaning down to give you a wet, you-flavored kiss.

“Another time, baby. Wanna fuck you first.”

It’s like your body answers to his call each and every time, so willing and ready for him.

“Wanna see stars, Joel.”

“And stars you’ll see, sweet girl.”

He leans down to kiss your hair before ridding himself of his jeans and boxers, erection springing free.

He groans at the newfound freedom, and you can see his pre-cum beaded at his tip.

You can’t help yourself—you reach over and swipe your thumb over it, popping your finger into your mouth with a satisfied hum as the salty flavor of him dances on your tongue.

“Why do I have a feelin’ you enjoy giving head?”

You quirk a brow at him. “You wanna find out?”

He laughs. It’s a sweet, rare sound. It’s one you want to capture in a jar to keep and cherish forever.

“Later, baby. I wanna make you feel good tonight.”

You’re about to say you already have—twice, in fact, but he’s moving behind you before you can get the words out. He rubs your ass one more time before spreading you open.

You can tell he admires the view with the appreciative hum that evades his throat.

“You sure you wanna do this? You can still back out, y’know.”

You look back at him, batting your lashes twice. He gets the message.

His mouth quirks up and he swipes his head through your folds, catching onto your clit. You whine at the feeling, and Joel smacks your ass once more for good measure.

He settles himself at your entrance and pushes into you slowly, letting you take him inch by inch until he’s reached the hilt.

His hips are flush against your ass, and he’s so fucking large and heavy inside you that it lights your body aflame with pure pleasure.

“Joel,” you cry, and Joel strokes your back while he allows you time to get used to the sting, the delicious stretch.

The feeling is indescribable, being so full like this, let alone with the man you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks now.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey. She’s takin’ this cock so well,” he praises.

You moan at his words, finally squeezing the words out of your throat. “Move, please.”

So he does.

He starts off slow at first, testing the waters, before completely pistoning into you. He knocks the breath out of you, and it’s almost too much, but you fucking love it.

You haven’t felt this type of bliss in your life, well, ever, and Joel is giving it to you on the first go of him fucking you.

He slows his hips down before he grabs the thigh holder and dangles it in your vision, and you look back at him with what had to be the most pathetic pleaful look.

“You still want this?” He asks, and you nod.

“Words, baby. Need to hear you say it.”

“God, fuck! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes,” you cry. “Please, Joel. Need you to—fuck—need you to choke me out. Need it rougher. Need you,”

“Fuck, baby, you’re a goddamn dream,” he grits. “Tap my thigh twice n’ hard if you need me to stop.”

“Okay,” you murmur.

He wraps the leather strap around your throat, buckling it securely before giving it a soft tug.

“This feel okay?”

You nod, and he gives you a warning look.

Words.

“Yes, Joel. ‘S perfect.”

He pulls at the strap, and it squeezes the sides of your throat as he resumes fucking you.

He’s pounding into you relentlessly and a deep, guttural groan leaves his chest and the sound scrapes low in your belly. It makes your pussy flutter around his cock, squeezing him so tight that his hips stutter.

“Fuckin’ squeezin’ me, baby. She loves this cock, don’t she?”

You whine and nod, clawing at the comforter as he pulls the strap tighter. Your breathing becomes more shallow and your vision starts to go black around the edges.

You’re starting to see the stars Joel promised you.

Joel hears that your little noises he loves oh-so-much have ceased, so he lets up on the strap. You gulp in a big breath of air, looking back at him to give him a wicked smile.

He almost cums at the sight.

“Reckon you like it rough, too.”

You hum in agreement, reaching between your legs to cup his balls. He nearly chokes on a moan at the feeling of you beginning to massage him, and he slaps your ass before pounding into you once again.

He pulls on the strap again, but this time he leans down so his lips are at your ear.

“Takin’ this cock like you were made for it, honey.”

He kisses your neck and moves his lips down between your shoulder blades, nipping at your skin before slinking a hand between your thighs, finding your clit in one perfect move.

You want to scream and cry his name, but it’s nearly impossible with the restriction on your throat. Your vision blurs black at the edges again and before you know it, your third orgasm of the night is tearing you apart from the inside out. A silent scream evades you.

You’ve reached the crescendo.

You’re convulsing around him, and you think he’s saying something like there you go, good girl, but the blood is pounding so hard in your ears that you can barely even register his voice. You barely even feel him take off the holster from around your neck, too.

Everything blurs together in bliss and dazzling stars and by the time you come to, Joel is grunting words you can finally hear.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me?”

You do your best to push yourself away from him and clamber onto your knees, right in front of him.

You give him a satiated smile, all hooded eyes and a fucked out appearance that has him losing it.

He tosses his head back as he pumps himself a few more times before his cum paints itself across your chest and lower half of your face.

You’re truly a sight to behold—the look on Joel’s face when his gaze meets yours again says it all.

He leans down and cups your face, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, sitting down on your bed again before Joel is back with a wet washcloth in his hand. He coaxes you to lay back against your pillows as he wipes you down gently.

The stark contrast of the softness he’s exuding now versus when he fucked your brains out is quite an amusing thing, but appreciated nonetheless.

He tosses the washcloth in your hamper after he’s finished, slipping his boxers back on before climbing into bed with you.

He tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze, and his thumb traces over the side of your face.

“You okay?” He asks, voice gentle and full of worry.

“More than okay,” you reassure him. Your limbs feel like goo and you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re floating on cloud nine.

You curl into him and he kisses your forehead once again, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close.

“Listen, Sunshine. I ain’t really a flowers type ‘a guy,” he starts, and you look up at him again.

Your heart sinks a little and you’re sure Joel can see your face deflate, so he quickly follows up on his previous words.

“But baby, for you, I’d pick out any one you wanted.”

And you know that’s his way of saying he’s all in. You let his words marinate for a minute before kissing his chest, right above the steady beat of his heart.

“Even the white roses from Maria’s garden?” You tease him, knowing those flowers are her prized possession.

He laughs again, and without a beat, leans his face down to yours with such an incandescently happy smile that his usual frown seems something so foreign to you.

“Even those.”

a/n (pt 2): huge thanks to @ozarkthedog for encouraging me and letting me ramble about this fic.

also, i can’t help but make joel a sappy motherfucker too. he’s a sappy kinky motherfucker.

sorry for any mistakes. this wasn’t revised that well.

hope y’all enjoyed tho.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller tlou #grumpy joel #game joel miller #joel miller game #the last of us fanfiction

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