#IF YOU'RE FROM WATTPAD FINE

[sansxfuckyou]

if I see one more 'hey i havent actually written this but im posting an empty fic anyways' on ao3 I am going to go insane

[reikoknshii]

🩸 scarlet..milk? 🥛

Doppelganger Francis Mosses (Milkman) x Reader

500+ words

Requested by; @FoxxyyThePirateFox in wattpad

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

You're a newly Hired Doorman for a Apartment thats owned by D.D.D. It'll be fine, well thats what the D.D.D. operators said to you before you get started.

You opened the list of residents thats supposed to arrive.

' Angus Ciprianni '

' Nacha Mikaelys '

' Izaack Gauss '

' Arnold Schmicht '

'I can do this...i think?' You said to yourself as you breathed in and out before opening the metal door.

First thing to arrive shocked you, Its those twin models whom you saw in the magazine.Except...they only had a Giant Razor teeth on their face.

You didn't spend a minute to check their Documents as their appearance already proved they're not the real ones. You immediately click the emergency button and called the D.D.D. cleaning services.

"Does that mean ill...have to face more of those?" You asked to yourself as this job surely need intense observation, you don't want to let one in and let it kill the innocent lives of the apartment residents.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You've seen... 4 doppelgangers that look horrifying, except for one, The Peach guy seem abit scary but they only said peach and nothing more.

You checked the list and hoped the one's you let in are the actual resident, you don't want to die just yet by your stupid decisions and weak observation.

You slump to your seat and groaned on the files you're holding. "Almost time, just a few more guest and ill close the entrance" you reassured yourself as you composed a brave and determined look.

"Mm...hello"

A voice said as you look up from the files and almost dropped it. "JESUS- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?-"

you questioned the milkman who stayed silent for abit before answering. "I seem to have covered myself with scarlet milk..mm.."

You dart your eyes on his ID and Entry request, as he stared intensely at you through the protected glass window.

"I...never heard of it" you said nervously about the 'Scarlet milk'.

"I assure you...its a better version of the milk we had" he said creepily as he showed a jug of a red substance labeled as 'Milk'. He smiled in an eerie way as you shivered in fear , getting goosebumps from his behavior.

"I seriously dont think thats milk-"

Your eyes went wide as he opens the jug of scarlet 'milk' and drinks it in front of you. The substance dripped from his mouth to his neck , he pulled the jug away and smiled widely through the protected glass window. The so called milk staining more of his milkman uniform as he slammed his fist on the window.

"L̸̖̽̌͂ẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍.."

You shrieked in fear as you slammed the emergency button from his creepy behavior, you were sure thats not the real Francis Mosses. The metal cover shut in front of him as he repeatedly bang his fist on the covers.

"Ỵ̛̖͋͢/ṇ̤͛̒̍...l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍, l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍...L̸̖̽̌͂Ḛͭ̉̇͟T̨͈͗̌ͥ M͉̅ͮ͒ͤḚͭ̉̇͟ I̍̅̀̎̊N̺̻̔̆ͅ" said the doppelganger as you called the D.D.D. cleaning Services immediately out of fear.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You were shaken by the current occurrences, your eyes darting everywhere from the window as your hour of  work shift ends. You closed the metal cover and got out of the office you're in, on the entrance window you see the blood covered jug on the floor and a small note...

"I'm watching you...."

[miyasturniolo]

CAUGHT | matt sturniolo

pairing: secret!bf! x f!reader

summary: matt has been cheating on his girlfriend for you but soon paparazzi’s caught the two of you, leaving things unsettled.

warnings: smut, pet names (baby, slut, sweetheart, love), public sex, dominant!matt, swearing, rough sex, fingering, nipple playing, needy matt, crying, panicking, hair pulling, ass grabbing, choking kink, getting caught, p in v, teasing, mention of y/n

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest.

WORDS: 2.9k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | matt - blue

-

Matt had a girlfriend who he had lost feelings for her ever since he met you. The more time you spent together, the closer your friendship evolved into a secret dating relationship.

Despite dating each other for the past two months, you both had to keep it under wraps because of his other girlfriend and his status as a famous YouTuber alongside his brothers.

His brothers admired you more than his actual girlfriend, but they were unaware of the romantic relationship between you and Matt.

In public settings with friends or when hanging out with his brothers, Matt would discreetly touch your thigh under the table so no one saw.

At times, things between you two would escalate into more intimate moments, which he enjoyed as it fueled his affection for you and his fingers were just enough to please you.

Currently, you were staying at a hotel with Matt as neither of you could visit each other's homes.

Matt's girlfriend, who everyone knew was a friend of yours, added a complex layer to the situation but the complications, she had mistreated you, allowing you to feel less guilty about the affair.

Matt, on the other hand, avoided going home so he didn't have to see his brothers as he desired quality time with you.

Matthew considered breaking up with his girlfriend a few times, but lacked the courage to do so, and aside from his brother, his parents adored her, even though they had never met you.

Another factor was the short duration of your relationship together, which had only been two months compared to his previous three-month relationship.

However, the main reason was his concern that his girlfriend might become upset with you if things ended badly.

You were lounging on the bed, engrossed in your phone, while Matt dried his hair after a shower. "Are you okay, love?" he inquired.

Setting your phone aside since you noticed he left the bathroom, you smiled as his gaze met yours. "I'm fine, and you?" you replied softly.

He returned the smile, joining you on the bed and leaning against you, resting his head on your shoulder as you felt his slightly wet hair soaking your shirt.

"I'm better now that I'm with you," he murmured, intertwining his fingers with yours, his blue eyes fixed on your hands, noting the size difference between them.

There were moments when he felt guilty for cheating, but he did it because of you and he did not regret it. He loved you, not her. He wouldn't be with you if he loved his other girlfriend.

Even if he thought about the other girl he was cheating on, his thoughts always came back to you. He didn't care about his other girlfriend, he only wanted to end things with her because he lost feelings and your just better.

He drifted off in a daydream for a moment before turning to look at you, giving you a smile before leaning in to kiss your lips, slowly climbing on top of you.

You placed your hands on his hips and didn't hesitate to kiss him back as he let out a small sigh of relief before slipping his tongue into your mouth, to which you responded in kind.

Exploring each other's mouths, both of you aroused but he was teasing you, his fingers teasingly rubbing against your shorts near your heat, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure at the touch. However, he abruptly pulled away, meeting your gaze.

"Not that easy, baby," he smirked before sitting on top of you. You pout a tiny bit before placing your hands on his thigh to rub them for his comfort.

"You're annoying, you know that," you said, making him chuckle and gently tap your nose while your more turned on than him. "But you still love me, right?"

"Still doesn't change the fact that you're annoying," you whispered as he rolled his eyes. He knew he needed you as much as you needed him, but he didn't care, he loved teasing you.

Shifting slightly, he laid on top of you with his head on your shoulder, remaining silent as you played with his soft hair.

It was late at night, and you both were still at a hotel with a massive pool.

He looked at you and then settled in more comfortably as you wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from falling off.

"Do you want to go swimming?" he asked, closing his eyes. He caught a whiff of the perfume you were wearing, causing his body to slightly twitch from the goosebumps as the scent was intoxicating to him, like a drug.

You stay silent for a little longer, gently playing with his hair, causing him to bite his lip to suppress a small moan or whimper as your nails delicately touch his scalp a few times.

"Now?" you ask, to which he simply nods in response, lightly kissing your shoulder as a silent expression of his happiness that you are here with him. "If you want to go swimming, then let's go."

You and Matt have been seen hanging out together a few times, leading your friend, who is Matt's girlfriend, to question the nature of your relationship.

However, you both maintained that you are just friends, a story she believed.

He smiled and got up from on top of you, making sure not to hurt you, before looking at you and then rummaging through his suitcase to find his swimming shorts.

As he prepared, you observed him going through his belongings before you got up to search for a bikini you brought with you.

By the time you began to change into your swimwear, he was already dressed. He watched you intently, a reminder playing through his head that you are his, causing his smirk to widen.

"Are you going to keep watching like a pervert?" you teased with a small grin as he simply rolled his eyes, but didn't take his gaze off of you.

"I'm not a pervert, I'm just admiring you and thinking about leaving some hickeys on you again. I like marking what's mine," he replied, watching as you finished changing into your bikini, making him eager to rip it off.

You locked eyes with him, raising an eyebrow and casually moving your hair to one side. "Then go ahead, you're a coward if you don't mark what's yours," you challenged, causing him to glare at you, shaking his head with a smile on his lips - though there was always a smile on his lips when he was with you.

"I hate you, you know that, right?" he said jokingly before moving closer to you, pressing you against the wall and kissing your neck, not wasting anytime.

"Hate is a strong word, Bernard," you replied as he bit your neck firmly, but not enough to cause any pain.

"Never call me Bernard, y/n," he warned as his hot breath tickled your neck. You chuckled before nodding in response.

He gently rubbed your back, then his hands moved to your ass, squeezing it before pulling away to look into your eyes.

He admired your perfect body, but deep down he knew it wasn't just your physical form he loved, it was you he loved the most, not just your body.

"Ready to go swimming now?" he asked, to which you nodded. He playfully rubbed his nose against yours, a small grin forming on his lips, before releasing you with one last playful squeeze on your ass.

"Are you ready?" he asked again, glancing at you and then at your bikini, which hugged your curves. "Yes, I'm ready," you replied.

Checking the time on his phone, he noticed it was getting late but neither of you bothered taking your phones since you both saw no need.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said, leading you as you followed him. He locked the hotel room door before heading to the elevator, holding your hand not just to guide you but also because he simply wanted to feel your touch.

As you both rode the elevator down to the ground floor, he gazed at you and kissed your lips, gently tugging on your hair.

His lips met yours, and a soft moan escaped you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Pressing you against the elevator wall, he positioned his knee between your legs and his hand wandered to your neck.

As he continued to kiss you, his hold on you tightened but he released you once the elevator reached the ground floor.

With a smirk, he wrapped his arm around you, leading you to the empty pool on that late Tuesday night when few guests were at the hotel.

"Can I be honest?" he asked, prompting you to turn and nod before returning your gaze to the pool as you sat on the edge, feeling the chill of the night air.

"You look so hot in that bikini, it makes you look like a fucking slut- hot one though" he remarked as he sat beside you, his eyes widening at the cold sensation when he dipped his feet into the pool.

"Are you calling me a slut?" You raise an eyebrow, causing him to snap his head towards you, his heart racing. "I didn't mean it in a rude way, baby but yes," he says.

You faked your anger and push him into the cold pool, causing him to curse as he hits the water.

"What the fuck, y/n," he says, rubbing his eyes before looking at you, grabbing your ankle and pulling you into the water.

Unable to hold on to anything, your body plunges into the freezing water. You quickly swim back to him, only to see him laughing, so you splash water at him.

"Oh my god, you are an asshole," you say, causing him to swim closer and pat your head before kissing you quickly and apologizing, "Sorry, sweetheart."

He wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you again, but it's short lived as he pulls away. "Can we have sex? In the pool?" he asks, pressing his half hard member against your leg.

You raise an eyebrow and don't say anything, except allowing his hands to move to your chest, even though you're wearing a bikini.

He didn't hesitate to touch your breasts. You made sure no one was around, and so did Matt.

He smiled to himself as you both confirmed the coast was clear. Then he removed your bikini top and began to gently suck on your breast while one of his hands played with your nipples.

You let out a soft moan as his teeth lightly grazed your hardened nipples. He watched as you closed your eyes and arched your back slightly.

After a moment, he pulled away and pushed you against the edge of the pool. He then removed his swimming shorts, revealing his large, erect member.

"I can't believe we're doing this in public. It makes me want to cum already," he said with a wink before removing your bikini, leaving you both naked.

He guided your legs to wrap around him as he began to make love to you, his cock thrusting into you as you both moaned softly.

"Take it like a good girl," Matthew said, biting his lip afterward as he increased the intensity, his eyes rolling back slightly as he heard your moans with each thrust.

The look in your eyes told you were close, but he just laughed darkly and shook his head. "Hold your orgasm, sweetheart. You can cum when I do," he said, making you whine, which prompted him to flick your nipples to make you stop.

Your breaths were erratic, but not as much as Matt's. "Do you like that, y/n? Me forcing you to hold your orgasm even though you're being such a good girl that I treat you like a slut?" he asked, making you nod.

He hummed before coming inside you harshly, causing you to coat his dick as you both remained in the pool. He gazed at you, kissed your lips, and then pulled away.

"We should head back. We've already taken the risk of having sex, so we shouldn't push our luck any further," he whispered, moving your hair away from your face.

You nodded, and he helped you put on your bikini before donning his swimming shorts, still sporting a boner.

He got out of the pool, assisted you, and then the two of you made your way back to his hotel. Despite being able to walk just fine, he still held onto you.

He remained silent as he pressed the number two button in the hotel elevator. You leaned on him as he gently stroked your hair.

"Come on," he whispered once the doors opened. You smiled and followed as he led you, his hand linking with yours.

He soon unlocked the door and held it open for you to enter first. You stepped inside, and he smiled gently as you thanked him before he locked the door.

"I didn't think we would end up having sex, I thought we were just going to swim," you said, making him smirk.

He then removed his wet swimming shorts, put on some boxers, and hung the shorts to dry on the balcony with pegs.

"Give me your bikini," he requested as you started to change. He smiled when you handed it to him and dried it in the same manner as his swimming shorts.

When he returned, he hugged you from behind, causing you to shiver because you were ticklish. He chuckled before resting his head on your neck, enjoying the scent of your skin.

As you laid down next to him, you rested your head on his chest and gently ran your hands over his stomach, the room filled with silence.

"I really need to end things with her, but I'm unsure how to do it without causing any issues with your friendship with her and upsetting my parents. However, once my parents find out about you, they'll surely appreciate you even more," he confessed, looking into your eyes with a faint smile.

"Then go ahead and do it. I don't mind losing me and her's friendship for the sake of your happiness," you responded, meeting his gaze as he fell silent for a moment before nodding and speaking softly, "I'll handle it tomorrow or sometime this week."

You smiled and kissed his lips, causing him to close his eyes and gently place his hands on your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he lay back.

As you pulled away from the kiss, you glanced at him before snuggling down on top of him. He was quiet, breathing gently, but his hand was rubbing your waist and back.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, and you reciprocated the sentiment before both drifting off to sleep. You were the first to wake up in the morning.

"Matt, your phone won't stop ringing," you mumbled, waking him up. He looked at you, then at his phone.

"It's her," he whispered, trying to ignore it, but the phone kept buzzing. "Oh, for fuck sake," he groaned, shifting slightly to answer the call.

He answered, sounding half asleep as you rested your head on his stomach. Suddenly, you heard a gasp from him, prompting him to look at you, and you back at him.

"What's wrong?" you whispered so quiet that he probably didn't hear, and he shook his head, continuing the conversation on the phone.

"What do you mean I was with y/n last night, fucking her?" he said, trying to remain calm.

You froze as Matt put an arm around you, reassuring you that it wasn't your fault. "Listen, I was going to tell you about me and her," he whispered, but his girlfriend kept accusing him of lying.

Eventually, Matt learned that she found out about the affair from someone at the same hotel who witnessed you both at the pool.

They discreetly recorded the encounter, but the footage was blurry due to their distance and hiding spot. Though it was clear it was you two.

With a heavy sigh, Matt set his phone on the bed and rubbed his temples as his girlfriend but now ex ended it.

"She knows, someone recorded us which is so creepy," he said in distress, and you did your best to comfort him.

His main concern was that the video might be circulating online, exposing him to people he knew and his followers.

You stood up and leaned against the headboard, wrapping your arms around him. Overwhelmed, he began to cry.

"I'm in deep trouble. I don't care about losing her, I'm just glad to be with you. But my fans will find out, my parents, my brothers who I share a home with," he whispered as you held him close, assuring him that everything would be okay in the end.

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[sttm99]

You've always noticed Bakugo.

Easily.

You almost took it as a thing of pride, having been able to see the potential so easily. When you were all fifteen-year old first years, you could so easily tell he was handsome. Your teenage eyes always seemed to search for him in every class, every room.

He was brash and unpolished, loud, obnoxious, and an all-round piece of shit. But that stupid, wattpad-infested, schoolgirl mind of yours couldn't help but eat it up.

You could never muster up the courage to talk to him, though. He was mean, and you weren't like Mina or Kirishima that could hang out with him and not be bothered by it.

So you settled with admiring him from afar, keeping your attraction to yourself and never really coming into the space that is Katsuki Bakugo throughout your first year.

Second year was the year you had your first encounter with him. It was in the final months of the year, when you two had been paired together for a project.

He came over to your table at the end of the school day with his bag lazily slung over his shoulder as he stood above you by your desk.

"My room this evening. 6:30. We'll start then and see how far we can go." He tells you swiftly, in that voice that had begun to crack already, eliciting slightly more mature thoughts from you.

"Sure." You murmur as you looked up at him.

He turned around and left immediately, not once turning back to look at you, his other friends following him out the door.

You knocked on his door at 6:33, foregoing your uniform for a simple, little t-shirt and plaid trousers. He opened the door almost instantly, ushering you in and shutting it quick behind you.

"This is how it's gonna go-" He begins as he takes a seat on his desk, powering up his computer. You take the small moment where he's facing away to admire his back, his shoulders bare from the sleeveless tee he has on.

When he turns back, your face is back to a blank stare, eyes directed towards the poster he has above his bed. It's an all might one, and you think you remember it being limited edition, an expensive one that was hard to get a hold of.

"Oi, over here." He scolds you, and you turn back to him.

"Sorry," you mumble, as you step over to him, standing between his desk and his bed.

He glances at you, taking in what you're wearing. "You can sit on my bed. Those aren't outside clothes, right? So it's fine."

You slowly sit on his bed as he begins to open up a Word document. The project was for history class, and you two had gotten a time period you were disgustingly educated in.

Bakugo had already started the work, surprising you a bit. He began pointing out what he'd already done, and what you'd be doing to complete it.

"And-"

"This is wrong, by the way." You cut him off.

Bakugo looks at you slowly, a scowl taking over his pictures. "Wrong?"

You nod, your shyness melting off in the presence of your intelligence. "Yeah. This -" You point to a paragraph header. "- didn't start happening until about 50 years later - 54 specifically, actually. So, if you talk about the monarch right before this, it would look weird cause he couldn't have come into power without this practice."

Your eyes are on the laptop, pointing out mistakes and making corrections. And for the first time since you started at UA, Bakugo noticed you.

It was a subtle switch, where he went from seeing you to actually noticing you; from hearing to listening.

Were you always this smart?

Was your voice naturally that way?

Have you always smelled so good?

The evening ended with you making suggestions and adding about three paragraphs to the work.

And as he closed his eyes to sleep, all Bakugo saw was you.

This is five years past. Mina had invited a small group of them to her apartment for a mini reunion, and just like in his room years before, Bakugo noticed you.

He noticed you standing in Mina's kitchen by the sink, washing off the sauce Denki had accidentally spilt over your palms, whilst the others were in Mina's living room playing a game of charades.

"Hey." You turn to look at Bakugo by the door.

It wasn't like you'd suddenly become friends after the project you two had done together, but you could tell he'd warmed up to you a bit. He looked at you sometimes, more often than before, and didn't look away immediately after making eye contact.

Sometimes, he'd ask your opinion on something(you liked when he did. He valued what you had to say), or he'd make some side comment about you when you'd pass him in the hall sometimes. But they weren't regular Bakugo mean. He was warming up to you, in his own Bakugo away, but warming up nonetheless.

"Hi." You say back to him, turning off the tap before going to wipe your hand with some paper towels.

"Haven't seen you in a bit," Bakugo mumbles as he steps closer, leaning his hip against the counter, some few feet away from you.

Whilst he came into the spotlight, bright and loud like his quirk, you'd decided to follow Aizawa's footsteps and become an underground hero instead- foregoing the limelight for a career in busting crime rings and fucking up drug lords.

You shrug, not really looking at him, your eyes instead focusing on your hands as you dried them.

You'd grown out of your little crush quickly after graduation. Even though you could appreciate just how blindingly handsome he was, just as you'd expected, he didn't have your heart racing anymore, didn't get your palms sweaty.

Sure, maybe the sight of his veiny forearms and large shoulders did something to your stomach, but you knew the difference between pure lust and actual romantic feelings.

"Kind of the point of my work, don't you think?" You ask rhetorically.

He shrugs back. "How's it going, anyways?"

It's not something he can do, the whole underground thing. His quirk isn't quite right for it, and neither is his personality. And with how his time in UA went, he was far too recognizable to go undercover anywhere.

But he could appreciate that you were good at what you did. He wouldn't admit it, but he did keep up with some of the people he didn't bother talking to after graduation. Just a few - Deku and Todoroki - sometimes he'd look at what Uraraka and Jiro are doing.

Admittedly, he checked up on you far more often than he was willing to expose. He knew a lot of your missions and was eerily familiar with your high success rate, too.

"It's fine." You say as you throw the towel into the bin and lean back against the counter behind you, your palms holding the edge as you looked at Bakugo. "Not so glamorous, a bit scary sometimes, I guess, but- that's hero work, isn't it?"

He hums, and at the back of his mind, he hopes the others don't bother coming to look for either of you soon.

"I guess so. But hey, you've been doing good." He admits.

You raise a brow and are unable to keep the smirk off your face. "You've been following up on me?" There's a teasing lilt to your voice which Bakugo had never encountered before. The tilt of your lips changes the entire dynamic of your face.

You're less melancholic now, more sultry and seductive, and it's pulling him in without him understanding why. It's something he'd never seen from you in UA, and he wonders... what else has he not seen from you?

He scoffs at your words, folding his arms over his chest as he stares you down. "I keep up with hero news."

You chuckle a bit. "You're doing well, too, though."

He shrugs. "Thanks, I guess. 'M just waiting for all those old geezers to fucking retire."

You laugh aloud at that.

Bakugo sees Kirishima step into the doorframe behind you. He glares quickly, purposefully as you're not focused on him, still laughing. He's signalling for Kirishima to leave - he doesn't want this moment with you to end just yet.

The redhead complies, not without shooting Bakugo a sly look.

As you turn back to him, his disposition is different. He's less put off, and he's gotten closer. "So -" He starts, drumming his fingers over the countertop"- what are you doing after this?"

And you smile at him, in that sly, sultry way you did before. "It's up to you now, isn't it?"

This most probably won't have a part 2. I just wanted to get it out of my drafts.

[kikyoupdates]

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You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

also available on Ao3!

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You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last.

also available on Ao3!

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You awaken one day with virtually no memories. The only thing guiding you is some strange system that likes to dictate your every move, and for some reason, it insists that you make certain people fall in love with you. Desperate for answers, you decide to go along with its demands. After all, how hard can it be?

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

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You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Bloodthirst | bnha x vampire!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, vampire reader, f!reader

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Infatuated | yandere!bnha x reader my hero academia, yandere, reverse harem, f!reader

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

Love Bite | oc!vampires x reader yandere, reverse harem, vampires, original characters, f!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

also available on Wattpad!

Tears of a Villainess | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

Girlfriend-For-Hire | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

Changing Plotlines | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

Bewitched | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, magic, witches, f!reader

Having awoken one day with no memories apart from your name, you are endlessly thankful when a kind family decides to take you in as their own. But it appears as though your fate cannot be so easily overwritten, and as you discover more and more about the person you were meant to be, the hearts of those around you seem to change in a sinister way.

also available on Wattpad!

Crushed Velvet | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

[changetyre]

My weakness II Mafia!Lando Norris x Reader Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Lando is a man known to be cold, unfeeling, overflowing in strength and composure...except when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: Assault, Blood, inaccurate medical terms, not proofread.

A/N: This is something I posted over on Wattpad a few days ago, thought you guys might want to start seeing some for fluff rather than pure smut ;)

It was a miracle you were walking down the streets on your own right now...well partially. Lando had been obliged to fly over to territory 55 after a business deal had gone wrong with his partner who urgently needed his assistance. 

Lando hated leaving you alone even if it was for short periods of time just hating the feeling of not being able to protect you himself. Nevertheless, he reluctantly had to sometimes and he wasn't one to force you to go with him everywhere especially if he knew he would be putting you in more danger around him. 

For this specific instance, he had needed to fly for a few days and it had taken a whole lot of begging over the phone for him to let you leave the house to go shopping, a treat for yourself (and a little for him). He only agreed because he had your location on your phone but also as long as you agreed that his best man Max Fewtrell would accompany you. 

The day had been wonderful for you, Max wasn't sure how much longer he could stand at another store watching you try on what felt like hundreds of pieces of clothing only for you to walk out with just 1 piece or none at all.

His feet were aching more than they would when he went on a mission and he was about ready to force you back home if it weren't for the stores closing that forced you to finally call it a day. 

You were walking to the car, Max a few steps ahead of you as he worked to get all the multiple shopping bags and boxes into the car. His struggle to do so distracted him enough not to notice the other eyes in the empty parking lot. 

Max heard you scream but by the time he turned around and drew his gun you were already down on the ground badly beaten, Max could only watch as the men delivered their last few kicks and punches before they scrambled disappearing in the night. 

Max attempted taking shots but they were futile as they ran in multiple directions and instead he focused on you instead of running after whoever they were. He saw a note left beside your beaten body.  

Max picked you up getting you in the car to quickly drive you to the hospital as you groaned in pain trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

"Max don't tell-" You struggled to breathe properly. 

"Shh don't hurt yourself." Max was stern, he knew what you were going to say and he also knew he wasn't going to listen.

"Don't tell Lando." You finished feeling as though this wasn't bad enough to have him fly back and panic over you. 

Max sees as you're wheeled in, panic filling his face at the amount of blood he can see down your face and body. At the hospital, apart from a few cuts and bruises to the rest of your body it's determined you have a mild fracture to your skull and you required a few stitches to a medium-sized gash to your head, explaining the large amounts of blood.

You fail to recall at what point you'd lost consciousness or been put to sleep as you woke up to see Max on the couch next to you, his leg jittering nervously, his phone in one hand and his head in the other hand.

"Max, are you okay?" You ask him, his head popping up and his eyes meeting yours, a wave of relief flooding them.

"NURSE!" Max screams out.

"Ouch." You grab your head as Max's loudness makes your head pound.

"Sorry." He gritted his teeth guiltily. "You get attacked and you ask me if I'm okay?" Max stifles a laugh.

You shrug. "Are you?" You ask again. 

"I'm fine...lucky for me he's decided to take his anger out on the poor nurses and doctors." He shakes his head.

"He? Max I-" A nurse comes in interrupting you, she explains everything to you, and checks your vitals before finally walking outside.

You're about to engage in conversation with Max again when Lando runs into the room.

"Y/n?!" He calls out, desperation and panic audible in his voice.

"You called him?! I told you not to." You turned to Max.

"He'd kill me if I hadn't." He argued back.

"He's right...if he wasn't like family he'd be dead already." Lando replied so nonchalantly it made a shiver run through your body. Lando walked towards you, a frown on his face as he looked at the bandage around your head. 

"Baby it wasn't his-" you were gonna speak.

"Who did this?" He looked at Max, you could see the ridiculous amount of anger in his eyes, his lips in a slight pout as he tried to keep it together and his breath incredibly heavy as if he'd just ran a marathon.

"Lan-" you tried calling him again.

"WHO?!!" He repeated himself to Max.

"They left this." Max handed him the note that was left beside you.

You saw Lando's eyes darken as he read the words. "Gather the men. Call 3, 16, 33, and 81. I want them dead." He instructed Max.

"Yes." Max didn't argue as he left the room, his phone already dialing.

"Lando-" another failed attempt.

"Did you see their faces?" He turned back to you.

"LANDO!" You raised your voice finally getting him to stop.

You grabbed your head, the volume and sudden jerk of your neck making it soar.

"Darling" Lando panicked when he saw your grabbing your head. "I'll call the nurse-"

You cupped his cheek before he could turn back around. You made him look at you. "Baby I'm okay." You spoke softly.

Lando let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding, his shoulders visibly relaxing. It appeared that his efforts to keep it together were expiring.

His breathing started becoming irregular as he tried his best not to break down in front of you. He tried to quietly grasp for air that he didn't seem to be able to find.

"Lando take a deep breath." Your hands moved to his once you realized he was shaking, you gave them a tight squeeze.

"I can't..." he tried to suck in air. "I can't breathe" you could see him starting to panic.

"Lando breathe with me, baby." I grabbed one of his hands placing it on my chest, my hand tightly over his as I placed the other on his own chest. "Breath in."

He did as I told him.

"Breathe out." His breaths began matching mine.

We repeated this a few times.

"You're okay baby...I'm okay." Once I saw him calm enough I pulled his face closer to mine leaning his forehead against mine. "I'm okay."

He closed the space kissing you softly. 

"This is my worst nightmare-" a few tears escaped his eyes.

"I know baby...I know..." I pulled him into a much-needed hug from both of us. His embrace was tight against me but still not as tight as it normally would be, like he was afraid to break me.

"I can't..." his voice broke. "I can't lose you." He whispered to you.

This time you placed a kiss on his lips. "You're not going to. I'm okay I promise." 

"I won't let them touch you ever again," Lando promised as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb lovingly. 

"I know." You didn't doubt him one bit. 

[11rosebunny]

Turn ons (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)

a/n: this is a repost from my wattpad, take this for now as i struggle for my exams…

Haruka Sakura

•Girls that fight back.

He's not so much of a romantic person so many of his turn ons do not have any correlation to anything that falls deeper into the aspects of romance.

But he does get off to the sight whenever you talk back to someone you refuse to let disrespect you. Even if you fight back with him, as much as he may seem he's annoyed, he's actually intrigued in the way you snap back making him grin at your remarks.

Some say he's sadistic for that (Suo).

Hajime Umemiya

•When you smell good.

He doesn't find it weird to openly go up to you and take a wiff of your scent. It was a complete accident the first time he smelt your aroma. You and him met up outside of school for the first time alone and because of that, he was able to smell your perfume.

He doesn't know why it gets him riled up, it's even come to a point when you two finally started dating, he wouldn't remove his head away from your neck whenever you were laying on his bed with him.

•Eye contact.

He absolutely digs the way whenever you two stare at each other. Something about the way your eyelashes bat at him as he falls into a deep gaze into yours makes him lose all sanity. He may seem like he's doing fine on the outside but on the inside, his itching to shove you to a wall and ask what you're doing to him.

Toma Hiragi

•When you're submissive.

This isn't put in a way to come off as sexual, it's whenever you simply comply to anything he says. It may sound toxic but he enjoys it when you listen to his orders, regardless if it stops you from doing something you really wanted to do, making you put on a jacket because it was too cold, ensuring you'll text him as soon as you get home, or when he tells you to help him with something.

Taiga Tsugeura

•Wearing his clothes

His wardrobe is quite boring to say the least; plain colours, bland shirts, and mostly shorts. But even so, he enjoys it whenever he walks by you and notices you're wearing one of his shirts.

He'll know right away that it's his due to the sheer size of it and the way it drapes on your body. It makes him go all giddy and smiley when he sees you. He has to look away or else you'll notice the blush dusting on his cheeks.

Mitsuki Kiryu

•When you're embarrassed.

There's a difference between being shy and embarrassed. If you so happen to get shy, he knows he shouldn't be finding interest in that because that's when you are genuinely nervous.

However, if you do get embarrassed, stuttering all over the place, blush creeping up on your face, eyes darting everywhere but his, a little alter ego of himself takes over in his head watching you melt into a puddle of ice cream.

He finds it so entertaining at the way you can't look him in the eye. He'll accuse you of going red and instigate your fumbling even further just for the fun of it.

Hayato Suo

•Accidental touches.

He tries to maintain being respectful but as soon as your hand brushes over his, his chest accidentally touching the back of your shoulder blade, the way youre faces get too close if he's helping you clean something off your cheek, it drives him nuts at the way you look at him.

He may seem calm and collected on the outside, but with how he's flickering his eyes to your lips and your eyes, you can tell if he wasn't holding himself back he probably would have smashed his lips onto yours by now.

Jo Togame

•When you make the first move.

He knows he's tacky for this but he can't help but to love the feeling of being chased by someone he likes.

He's all up for the way you two basically bicker with each other when he knows deep down you want him just as much as he does too.

He loves acting like he doesn't care till at the very last moment he'll say something so breathless that you'll be thinking about it for the next few days.

•Putting your hair up.

He also thinks he has a type for sporty girls due to the fact he just purely doesn't know what his exact type of women is.

If you're getting annoyed at the way your hair continues to fly in your face, need to focus, or simply just want to tie it, he loves watching the process of you tying it up for whatever reason.

Tomiyama Choji

•Fun to be with.

He has trouble being romantic and when he does, it's usually the worst thing you've ever experienced.

So if you two date, you have to expect most of your time with him to be more like fun play dates.

He likes the way you're able to make him laugh and want to do more menacing things with you, even if it ends up with one of you being in trouble.

•PDA.

You can argue this one to him but no matter what, he loves it when you publicly show others that your his.

If you hold his hand, take pictures with him in public, hold his arm, he thinks it's one of the best things you could do to show off your significant other.

It gives him the sense that you're possessive over him. As bad as that sounds, he loves it when you're willing to be aggressive to other people that try talking to him.

[hearts4golbach]

Maybe You're Right.

request from wattpad:

tara introduces the reader to jake, and the size difference is kind of like how it was when tara and jake were dating, so it's HEAVY on the size difference and ends up in sshmuttt.

pairing:

Jake Webber x Fem!Reader.

warnings:

size kink, heavy smuttt, just general filth, 18++++!!

"Tara, you dragged me out of bed this morning, told me to dress slutty, left the house, came back with alcohol, and now were pregaming for I don't even know what in the back of an uber." You laughed, passing the bottle of Pink Whitney back to Tara. "For the love of God, just tell me where we're going!"

Tara winced at the burn of the alcohol in her throat. "Okay, fine! I thought it was obvious."

"unless you're taking me to a whore house, then clearly not." you rolled your eyes. you began to mentally prepare yourself for another shot.

"were going to a party!" she gently pushed your arm.

you groaned. "Tar, you know I don't like parties."

"I know, I know. but, this is a more secluded one. there's this cute guy I really want you to meet!"

"I mean, I'm already here." you shrugged. "also, what about this cute guy? my anti-social ass would not be able to hit it off with a guy, especially at a party."

"he is, too! even if you guys don't hit it off, it's still worth a shot." she put the cap on the bottle and unbuckled as we approached a house.

"right." you replied, only half sarcastically.

"it's not as scary or hard as it sounds. you two have a lot in common." Tara flashed a cheeky smile. "like I said, he's cuuute!"

"i guess we'll see. what's his name?" you reached down to adjust your shoe.

while Tara wore these high heeled boots, you threw on a cute pair of white flats you had laying around. this made the height difference between you and Tara dramatic (even though you were roughly the same height.)

you climbed out of the back seat, thanking the bus driver before meeting Tara on the other side of the car.

she interlocked her arm with yours. "ready?"

"no!" you squeeled. "at least tell me his name."

"you'll figure it out, come on!" she dragged you up to the front door.

whenever you walked in, you were caught off guard whenever it wasn't the stereotypical party; strong smell of alcohol, loud music, flashing lights. there was music playing, but not too loud and not too quiet. the house smelled nice, most likely freshly cleaned. there was a wide variety of alcohol in the kitchen, though.

"lead me to this quote unquote cute guy." you instructed, looking around at all of the people. there were some people you knew or recognized. you made a mental note to try and say hi later.

Tara dragged you into the dining room as she looked around the room. she smiled as her eyes landed on someone. you tried to follow her gaze, but you were swept away by her dragging you towards him.

by the back door stood a group of 3 guys. they were all chatting within their group. the tallest one had cherry red hair that reached down to his shoulders. Mr. cherry bomb noticed Tara and waved. his eyes landed on you before turning back to Tara.

"Jake! I want you to meet someone." she dragged you up so you were standing beside her. "Jake, this is y/n. y/n, Jake."

he stuck out his hand. it enveloped your hand whenever you stuck yours out as well. you had to look up just to make eye contact with him. "nice to meet you, y/n. ive heard a lot about you."

"you, aswell." you gave him a soft smile.

he stepped off to the side, letting your hand linger in his. "what brings you 'round these parts?" he asked in a southern accent.

you giggled. "I was kidnapped and brought here by our beloved Tara."

"ah." he smacked his lips.

"You've heard a lot about me? good things, I hope." your eyes trailed down his body, admiring all of the visible tattoos. they were very colorful and interesting. it made you want to know all of the stories behind them.

he smirked whenever he saw your eyes wandering. this snapped you back to reality. "yes, of course. only good things." he said sincerely. "not a fan of parties?"

he leaned against the wall, awaiting your response. "more or less. I don't really go out of my way, I guess."

"I hope this one is," he paused, thinking of a decent word to finish his sentence. "Exciting? I don't know. I hope my and johnnies party can change your perception of parties for you."

you shrugged, shooting him a wink. you mentally cringed at yourself. "maybe. I guess we'll see."

"can I get you anything to drink? we have a lot of alcohol, for some reason." he lead you back into the kitchen.

you glanced back at Tara, who was already looking at you and shot you a wink. you flashed her a soft smile before turning back around and catching up to jake. "I'll just take a cherry white claw."

"good choice." Jake commented. he took one out of the box and tossed it towards you. "do you have a boyfriend?"

you hummed. "no. I had one a few months back."

he made a sound of acknowledgment before taking a sip of whatever was already in his cup.

"why do you ask?" you cracked open your seltzer.

"I think you're really pretty, y/n. and sweet, too." he smiled. "sorry if that's weird, im really fucking bad at compliments."

you giggled. "that wasn't weird. I really appreciate it." you leaned a little closer to his face. "I think you're pretty cute, too." you commented with a smile on your face.

"hmm, thank you." he seemed to be thinking before crushing his cup and tossing it in the trash.

"so, is this your house?" the alcohol seemed to be getting to your head. you took a step closer to Jake.

he immediately caught on to your moves and took a step closer himself. "yeah. me, johnnie, and carrington."

you hummed, straining your neck to look up at him. he casually reached towards you, tucking a hair behind your ear. "really? it's really nice."

"thank you, pretty girl." he smiled, sending shivers down your spine.

"you know, it's pretty crowded. why don't we go somewhere else?" you wanted to make your intentions obvious. the kitchen was empty, and you were eyeing jake like you were starving and he was your last meal.

he looked around. "I think you're right." he took your hand and led you upstairs, which was completely empty.

whenever you made it to his room, he shut and locked the door. his hands met your waist. "is this okay?"

you hummed, "more than okay."

he smirked and hooked his hands under your thighs. he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his torso. "is it crazy how we just met and I think im already obsessed with you?"

"is it crazy I feel the same way?" he grinned at your response before pressing his lips against yours.

he pinned you against the bedroom door. his lips glided with yours at the perfect pace. his lips tasted sweet, like spearmint gum and alcohol. his soft lips were addicting. you couldn't get close enough to him. you couldn't even get enough of him.

his tongue swiped your bottom lip, begging for entrance. you parted your lips and let him in. your tongues danced together. he pressed you further up the wall, letting one hand trail over the silk of your dress. he slowly unzipped it, taking his time. you clawed at the rim of his shirt, begging him nonverbally to take it off.

he walked you over to the bed and laid you down. he tapped your hips, asking you to lift them up so he can slip off your dress. you followed his instructions, leading you to be left in your bra and panties. you reached up and stripped his shirt off of him, revealing his toned abdomen.

you traced the lunes of his tattoos as he began to unbuckle his pants. he stood towering over you in his boxers.

he leaned down, pecking your lips and crawling on top of you. he leaned down and bit your earlobe. "You're okay with this, right?"

"yes, jake, fuck. please, fuck me." you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his face back towards yours.

he kissed the corner of your lips and trailed down to your neck, sucking dark hickeys into your soft skin. you shuddered as his smooth lips sucked on your skin. he kissed down your chest and stomach, finding his way to the rim of your underwear. he gripped the lace with his teeth and dragged them down, assisting with his hand. you were soaked, and a string of your juices was on your panties.

"fuck, I'm going to ruin you." jake smirked as he licked a stripe up your pussy. his tongue flicked your folds. he moaned at the taste of you. "you taste amazing." he complimented with a tiny giggle.

he held your hips down, stopping you as you tried to buck up into his face. he sucked your clit, pulling away with a pop as he stood back up.

you helped him pull his underwear down. his cock sprung out of his boxers, his tip hitting his lower stomach. "fuck, jake. you're so big."

you collected the precum off of his tip, using it as lube to slowly stroke his cock. Jake bit his lip as he stared down at you. your eyes flicked up to him as you shot him a sweet smile.

his hand stroked your cheek. "you can take it, right pretty girl?"

you nodded eagerly as you bit your lip.

he pushed you back on the bed and spread your legs. he was so soft yet so rough at the same time. he aligned his cock at your entrance before slowly thrusting inside of you.

you moaned loudly, clapping your hand over your mouth.

"you need a sec to adjust?" he cooed, rubbing your hip. you nodded. "That's okay, love." he smirked, "told you, I'm going to ruin you."

"oh, fuck. please, you can go." he kept his thrusts slow at first, making you moan. his cock wasn't fully inside of you yet as he held a steady yet slow pace.

"shit, i can feel my cock stretching you. taking me so well." he gripped your hips.

he bottomed out, pushing his cock all the way inside of you. you felt his cock aching for release as your walls clenched around him tight. you nearly screamed, your moan sounding raspy as he did.

"You sound so pretty," he sped up his thrusts, "keep making those sounds for me, babe. let the whole party hear you."

"fuck, jake! fuckfuckfuck-" you moaned out. a string of curses slipped out of your mouth.

"shit, you can take it." he stuttered as he fucked you harder. he hit your g-spot, making you scream his name.

"faster, please, baby." you choked out in between moans. "fuck, you're so- so big."

he smirked, "yeah? I'm sure you love it."

you nodded eagerly. "yes. fuck yes!" you arched your back off of the bed. "jake. I'm so close!"

"cum on my dick, pretty girl." he grunted. his cock sounded inside of you at a relentless pace.

"fucking hell," you moaned as your walls spammed around Jake's hard memeber. you came on his dick, your whole body going limp as you breathed heavy. you laid back on the bed, your whole body relaxing as you began to catch your breath.

he pulled out and came on your stomach. he moaned out your name as he came, his hand pinned on either side of your head.

jake collapsed on the bed next to you. he wrapped his arm around your waist. he was breathing heavily himself. he took a deep breath before sitting back up.

"Let me clean you up." he tossed on a shirt and a clean pair of pajama pants. he tossed one of his shirts to you. "Do you need anything? water or.."

"No, I'm okay," you threw on his shirt. "Just hurry back to bed." you smiled, an extremely cock drunk smile.

he nodded, "will do."

he came back moments later with a wet wash cloth. he kneeled down in front of the bed, cleaning his cum off your lower stomach and your sensitive cunt. once you were all cleaned up, he gave you a pair of basketball shorts to sleep in.

he hummed, "I think we should go on a date some time."

you hummed back. "I think you're right."

he took his shirt back off and laid next to you. you laid your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. the two of you fell asleep peacefully in eachothers arms almost immediately.

-

'I think you were right.' You texted Tara along with a picture of you lying on Jake's chest.

she responded two minutes later. 'told you so'

[pirateprincessblog]

moan for me

NEW! Check out the full ongoing version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you decide you don't want to end your friendship because of a casual fuck. he agrees. just why is he then eye-fucking you across the room and bumping into you accidentally? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!seonghwa, bestfriend!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: hair pulling, dacryphilia, public sex, cream pie, ddlg, public oral (female receiving), voyeurism, breathplay/choking, hickeys, bruising

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: choking?, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: officially, i am ready to get dicked down in a gown by park seonghwa

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

mr park: forgive me for doing it this way, but i would like to cancel the date. it is not the brightest idea, i was carried away by the emotions at the moment. let us close this chapter, as fun as it was. i am not looking for further interactions such as the ones we had, and i am most certainly not looking for a relationship. sorry for giving you the wrong idea. take care.

your heart drops. hidden by the curtain in the changing room, you allow yourself to sit down and drop a few tears. fuck, you were having such a good time. such a handsome, skilled, jaw dropping gorgeous man, just slipped from your grip, and there's nothing you can do about it. you crave his existence, you wish to look at him and touch him day and night. as creepy as it sounds.

the sixth dress you've tried on for the dance is already is itchy against your skin, and you sigh. the bright green isn't flattering on you at all. your friend has already picked the dress, lucky her. your budget wasn't exactly big, so finding something pretty and inside the budget was hard.

"oh, hi dad."

you freeze.

"hello, love."

even his voice is pure honey.

"how is the shopping going?"

"well, i bought mine. i'm just waiting for my bestie to finish trying on."

park seonghwa stays silent. the realization of you being here near him just moments after him ditching you put him in an awkward situation.

"hey, you good in there?" she calls, putting her head between the curtains.

"yup. i'll be right out." you stop to think, making your friend raise her eyebrow questionably. "actually, you go with your dad. i'll check a few more of those sale dresses and head home."

"sale dresses? but the blue one looked like a dream on you! you're still thinking?"

"it's a tad bit out of my budget." you confess, already annoyed at her lack of understanding that you are just not as wealthy as she is.

"oh, why didn't you say so? dad!"

"what the fuck are you doing?!"

"dad, can i get this dress for her? i know you made me block my card because i went crazy at prada yesterday, but i could really use it right now."

hearing her casually mention prada like it was mcdonalds made you a little irritated.

"no, honey. sorry. it's not a really good idea."

"but, but, you didn't even hear the price yet-"

"it doesn't matter. no more spending for this month. be happy i let you get your own dress. you have hundreds at home that are just piling up at the bottom of the closet."

"aren't we, like, super rich? what's another thousand euros for you?"

you are way too embarrassed to leave the changing room, so you stay inside in hopes they'll forget about you and just leave. you glance at the expensive dress that hangs on the wall. it's a pretty royal blue, with a thin sparkly belt on the waist and sparkly straps. it's a minimum, but makes the dress stand out.

"no, i am super rich. you are not exactly. come on, now. get your bags and get into the car. ask your friend if she wants a ride."

"uh, no." your voice is raspy, and you clear your throat. "no, thank you. i am fine."

"very well. let's go then."

you hear paper bags shuffling, then quick footsteps and the doors opening.

"sorry about my dick dad. i don't know what has gotten into him." your friend apologizes.

"you have nothing to apologize for. i didn't even expect him to do something like that, are you out of your mind?"

"oh, what's another thousand for him? he probably made a few just while having that conversation with me. he's just being an asshole."

"car. now."

your squeeze your thighs together, the stern voice coming from the man doing wonders inside your stomach.

"ugh, i'm coming!" the girl stomps after him, leaving you alone in silence.

the green dress it is then.

the day is long and exhausting. considering that you arrived to the shop with the help of your friend's chauffeur, coming back home on foot was one hell of a task. you felt like the paper bag was carrying you, instead of you carrying it. your feet burn from the walking, and you can't wait to wash the sweat and humiliation off of you. you went from a thousand euro royal dream to a fifty euro eco trash bag. at least you have that dollar store green eye shadow you can use with it. how funny.

hot water drips down your body, fogging up the glass and trapping you in your little imagination bubble. your clit is begging for attention, reminding you of all the ways park seonghwa has touched you. his fingers skillfully rub your tense bud in ways that have you wondering if any of it is real. before you know it, you're clawing at the wet tiles as your other hand tries to desperately find the good spot inside of you. he finds so easily, why can't you? your fingers can't be much shorter than his.

half an hour of chasing an orgasm later, you give up. you've spent enough water, and your parents are going to kill you when they see the bill at the end of the month. it's all park seonghwa's fault. you can just mail him the bill and demand to pay. if you weren't so busy touching yourself to the thoughts of him, that wouldn't have happened.

defeated, you exit your room, somehow feeling more tired. you stop in your tracks. a black box sits on your bed, a yellow circle logo proudly shining on it.

"what the fuck?"

you reach for the box, touching the letters underneath the symbol. you don't open it yet, just in case this belongs to someone else.

"mom?!"

"yes?!"

"what is a versace doing in my room?"

"ah, your friend's chauffeur brought it over. said it was exclusively for you! bastard wouldn't let me peek."

that's all it takes for you to dive into the box like it was a new spicy book delivery. you make sure to leave the box intact, not wanting to rip something from such a luxury brand. a blood red gown sits in your hands, plush-like fabric melting down your fingers. it feels so luxurious, and expensive. it looks like something out of met gala, like it was ripped off of blake lively and given to you.

your phone pings, interrupting you from your little daydream session.

mr park: i think the blue is too calm for you. you need something fierce for a change. sorry if i overstepped. i just saw it when driving home and had to go back for it. not a word to my daughter.

you really didn't have to, sir.

mr park: i wanted to. you'll look lovely in it. and, please, have mercy and don't look at me tonight. i am a weak man.

your breath hitches. god, is he serious? just how fierce was this dress?

before you can examine it any further, the doors of your room opens, the familiar girl barging in with her little travel bag full of makeup and hair gadgets.

"whoa, slow down."

"no slowing, there's only three hours left until dad sends the chauffeur for us. god, what is that?"

"oh, it's uh-"

"vintage versace?! oh. my. god." she immediatelly pulls it out of the box, letting the empty carton fall on the floor carelessly.

"it's my moms, she dug it out after i came back home," you lie.

"i knew your mom is so cool."

park seonghwa really meant fierce when he said it. the red dress hugs your body like it was sewn on you, the leg slit high but hidden among the ruffles of the thick quality fabric. it is a corset dress, with offshoulder straps and a low cut. you don't feel exposed though. you feel like a queen.

"this fake ruby will go so good with that dress, trust me."

"oh, thank fuck, i thought it was real," you scoff, taking the big stone necklace and putting it on.

"why? think i can't afford it?"

"oh, no, no. apologies. you can totally afford a real ruby, miss." you joke, then glance at the clock.

just in time, a car pulls up to the entrance, the driver exiting to open the doors so they're ready for the two of you.

"shit, this is it. we're gonna get so wasted."

"isn't your dad gonna be there?"

"oh, he's not going to notice me when the headmaster gets him. poor woman is convinced that my dad wants her. some people just fail to realize that he just doesn't have the time for that. nor the will."

you feel like the sentence is targeting a little, but she doesn't spare you a glance as she sits in the car. the drive there is quiet, the clicking of her nails against the phone screen being the only noise in the small space. you glance at the small mirror of your hairbrush, checking your make-up again. you are feeling a little self-conscious, having never worn make-up this bold before. a winged eyeliner, heavy highlighter on your cheeks and inner eye corner, and a blood red lipstick. it's just a dance, wasn't this a little too formal?

one of your worst fears starts creeping into you, opening the doors of bottomless overthinking and migraines. what if you arrive overdressed, and everyone there is dressed in cute floral patterns and light spring dresses? while you are here looking like you've been dressed by donatella herself. and to think that park seonghwa saw the dress in the window of a store while just driving past it, and then went all the way back to get it and deliver it just for you, makes your stomach feel like fireworks.

to your relief, as you arrive in front of the building, you see that everyone else is equally extravagantly dressed. the dance wasn't at the college, but a place that park seonghwa himself has picked. it is a mansion just outside the city, with beautiful rose bushes, a stone path through the grass, and balconies to die for. it's like he knew how to make you stay longer than you planned on this dance.

"joshua!" you greet your partner as you enter the spacious room, surprised at the big change in his appearance.

"wow, don't you look luxurious. am i allowed to stand next to you?"

you playfully hit his shoulder, blushing at the comment. he turns to your friend, making small talk with her. you use the chance to glance around the room, in hopes of seeing the man of your dreams soon. you do not spot him, but you do spot a very familiar man. a man whose face you've seen on screen, and who has seen much more than your face on mr park's screen. your face instantly goes red, and your blood is boiling. you suddenly feel naked under his gaze, but he erases that feeling by smiling sweetly your way, and waving at you as a greeting. a complete opposite of that day.

"dad isn't answering my texts. i'm just gonna go find him to let him know i'm here."

you nod, then turn your attention back to joshua. to your surprise, he has left somewhere too, you just failed to acknowledge it. you are left alone among people who are already dancing, and you feel a little bored. with the dress in hand, so that you don't trip and make a fool of yourself already, you make your way towards one of the tables that stood near the walls.

you halt your steps, suddenly coming face to face with the man who had you wrapped around his finger. you don't mind. he fails to stop in time, accidentally bumping into you and almost making you fall back. his hands are quick to grab your waist, restoring your balance again. he doesn't immediately remove his hands. you don't mind that either.

"oh, mr park."

he doesn't speak. he takes a moment to look you up and down, and you do the same. he wears a white dress blouse, and his usual black slacks. the blouse is a little see-through, and you are taking in as much as you can while he busies himself staring at you.

"sir?" you call, suddenly remembering that your friend is searching for him, and that he has not yet removed his hands from you.

"god, you look ravishing." he groans.

"sir, your daughter might be-"

"i thought i had it under control. but now that you are here..." he trails, eyes dropping on your red lips. "i wish i could just-"

"seonghwa?"

the man turns around, and your waist suddenly feels cold and empty.

"dad?" another voice calls now behind you.

"sweetie?"

"mom?!"

you are shocked by the sight. a gorgeous woman, age similar to mr park, stands in front of the two of you. luscious locks fall over her shoulders and chest, and the royal blue dress you almost bought is overshadowing yours. it looks so much better on her.

"what the hell are you doing here?" mr park is calm, despite his harsh words.

"i am here to see my daughter. and talk to you."

"there's nothing left to talk about. i'm sure your husband would mind, anyway."

"seonghwa, please."

"dad, please." your friend begs, taking his hand and giving him her best big eyes.

he isn't a fool to fall for that. but he leaves with the woman anyway, because he knows just how stubborn they both are. the once married couple makes their way upstairs, and you can't help but stare until they disappear.

"it's rude to stare." your friend says, annoyed.

"oh, sorry. i must've zoned out."

"no, you didn't. you were staring at my dad."

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking at her confused. she rolls her eyes, then folds her arms across her chest.

"i'm not stupid. you think i didn't see how you threw yourself on him just a few minutes ago? acting like you're going to fall and shit, just so he could-"

"i swear it's not-"

"oh, shut the fuck up. putting your boobs out like that in that dress. is that even your dress? did your broke ass steal it?"

you are shocked by her sudden change in behaviour. you knew she had a problem with what happened between her father and you, but why did she decide to bring it up tonight? you have brought it up before, she assured you it is alright, and now that you really did not do anything, she is acting worse than before.

"it's not zara, bitch. it's versace. where the fuck did you get it? is it from me? because i can't keep track of all of my clothes, you thought you could just take it?"

you are grateful for the loud music, muting out her yelling. you see red. you know you are at wrong, but she picked the worst time to confront you. besides, it's not like you didn't talk about it at all. you thought it was all solved. guess not.

"your dad bought it for me." you spit out.

"what?"

"he thought i'd look hot in it." you press further.

"shut up."

"in fact, he just admitted that he wants to fuck me in it tonight."

"you're fucking delusional. he is getting back together with mom, don't you see? stop embarrassing yourself."

"you're telling me that your father would take back a cheater?"

her jaw drops. she knows it's true, but she has never heard you speak so freely. and she does not like that.

her hand reaches towards your hair, pulling at it, while the other one grabs a sleeve of your dress.

"stupid whore!" she curses, yanking at the necklace around your neck.

by now, people are starting to turn heads, slowly taking out their phones and recording.

"you are a shit friend, you know that? i've given you everything, and you go behind my back to fuck my dad? not once, but twice?"

"the fuck is your problem, i thought we solved this, you lunatic?!"

it gets on your nerves that you are taking this now that you really are innocent. you fight back, pushing her away from you and accidentally stepping on her dress, ripping it. everyone gasps, hands covering their mouths but phones still up in the air.

"you-" she breathes heavily, face red with rage. "you- you absolute slut! you whore!" she screams.

"that's enough." someone says next to you, before standing in between. "get up, you are making a fool of yourself. your drunk outbursts are hurting an innocent person."

"mr kim-" you start, ready to defend yourself.

"i'm not-!"

"come on," kim hongjoong helps the girl up, keeping her in a tight grip and guiding her outside the mansion. "phones away, everyone. show's over."

in the corner of your eye, you see park seonghwa rushing downstairs, followed by a woman in tears. by now, everyone went back to dancing, assuming that the girl was simply drunk and didn't know what she was saying. you are forever grateful to mr kim.

"what happened?" seonghwa grabs your shoulders, eyes skimming the ripped sleeve of the dress.

"your daughter happened." you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep tears from falling.

"oh, love, i'm so sorry."

"well, i kinda earned it."

mr park looks at you confused. you sigh, then slowly start walking towards one of the empty tables so that the dance floor can free up.

"she was saying some things and i intentionally pissed her off." you explain.

"what did she say?"

"that i intentionally threw myself on you, that i'm exposing my cleavage for you, and you know, that sort of stuff."

you cannot look him in the eyes. his gaze is too intense. his eyebrows are scrunched as he looks at you, and you aren't sure if he is mad with you or his daughter.

"and what did you say?"

you stay silent. you cannot fall any lower in his eyes. instead, you pour yourself a glass of wine, taking small sips of it. you absolutely hate alcohol, but in an awkward situation like this, you'll gladly drink the whole bottle if it means it'll get you out of the subject.

"do you wish to talk somewhere more private?" seonghwa suggests, making you choke back on the liquid.

"how private?" you ask before you can think.

the man chuckles, then offers his hand for you to take. you look around, making sure that the two women aren't around to see. mr kim has probably busied himself with taking care of mr park's daughter, and his ex must've left. she seemed pretty upset. you hate that the sight of her upset makes you happy.

park seonghwa leads you upstairs, much like his ex wife a few moments ago. he passes by a few doors in the hallway, until finally opening one. the interior is similar to the one in his library, only with a much bigger book selection. but he doesn't let you examine too much. he leads you to the balcony, which reminds you of the one from romeo and juliet. it looks like something from an old castle abandoned in the woods, with vines growing all over the old broken stone. the manor is surrounded by a light forest, just a few minutes away from the city, but the view from the balcony makes it seem like it is in the middle of a fantasy field. there is no light pollution, therefore you are able to see millions of shiny dots up in the sky. before you can keep gazing, mr park rests his hands on your waist, turning you around so that your back rests against the stone fence.

"sir?" you ask, hoping he would say something that you'll have an answer to.

"i was right. red is your colour."

his finger brushes over your red lips, then continues down your jawline, the neck bones, and to the cutout of the dress. he caresses the skin above the material, mere millimeters away. you are shivering, despite the pleasant weather tonight. you look into his eyes, bite down your lip when you see how focused he is in his moves.

"now that it's ripped off anyway, i'd love nothing more than to shred it to bits, just to see you again."

"but, you said-" you try reminding him of his message. he is very confusing to you.

"i know what i said. i can't help it." he steps closer to you, face inches away from yours. "i dream of devouring you in this dress."

his hand takes the wine glass from yours, lips pressing against it to take a sip. he looks deep into your eyes while he does so, faint glint getting you more riled up. you feel yourself dripping through the thin material of the thin lace thongs you wore, and it feels like he can feel it too somehow.

the glass is set on the fence now, a safe distance from both of you. you think he will finally speak again, but the man has other plans. his main plan seems to make you fall into his arms tonight, and it is working. his hands cup your face, and he presses his lips against yours. your hands are gripping the cold stone, not knowing what to do from the sudden explosion of emotions. carefully, park seonghwa pours the wine from his mouth into yours, sensually kissing you along the way.

aside from it being the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to you, you are also happy that you didn't spill any of it. you swallow, and when you try to move away to catch a breath, he only deepens the kiss, your face still in his palms. he tugs on your lips, biting them gently, sucking them, swiping his tongue along them, with a satisfying rhythm. you can't help but whine into his mouth, a certain part of you wishing for more friction.

"all you have to do is say the words, doll." he says, voice deep and almost a whisper.

"what words?" you ask, stupidly.

"any words. anything that will give me a green light." he answers, eyes searching yours for any kind of signal.

you think, for a short time that to seonghwa seemed like years.

"take me. here. on this balcony."

seonghwa groans, and leans in again to give attention to your lips. his hands roam your body, mainly focusing on your waist and thighs. he grabs your flesh through the fabric, squeezing it with desire as his tongue hungrily chases yours, not getting enough of it no matter how much he gets.

he pulls away too fast for your liking, and before you can whine again, he drops down on his knees. his perfectly polished shoes are forgotten as they suffer scratches from the floor, and his perfectly ironed black pants will soon meet a similar fate.

"hold this for me, pretty?" he asks, handing you the bottom of your dress.

you are caught off by the sudden situation, yet your body responds immediately and takes the fabric from him. you can barely see him from the red ruffles, but you can definitely feel the hot wet muscle licking through the thin lace of your underwear. you sigh, your head falling back at the hot sensation on your clit.

"don't hold back, please. i want to hear you."

you feel uneasy, but the moment he pushes your panties aside and attaches his lips to your core, you do not care. you whine, breathe heavily, moan, pull at his hair in ecstasy. you love the thrill of knowing that anyone could walk in and the first thing they'd see is the two of you doing sinful things in the moonlight. bet they'd love the sight, too.

"fuck, sir-" you gasp, feeling him sucking on your sensitive bud.

"fuck, i love it when you call me sir. call me more names, darling, i beg you."

"m-make me," you choke out, feeling his finger sliding between your walls.

he scoffs, playfully tugging on your covered nipple as he continues pumping his finger in and out of you. he does it slowly, making sure to brush against the sensitive spot but not give it complete attention. just enough to keep you on the edge.

"oh, i'll make you. don't you worry." he promises.

his hands grab your thighs, almost raising your body from the ground, so that he could eat you out properly. you have the urge to close your legs, but his hands are firm and keep them open. you shake against his restless tongue, hoping to release soon.

"mr. park- please- please-" you beg, choking back tears.

you do not know why you tear up in sexual situations with him. from the pleasure? from the pain of edging? from knowing that this might be the last time you're doing it?

as soon as he hears your voice shaking, mr park stands up, making sure that it really is what he thinks it is. without a word, he kisses you again, lips wet with your arousal. he keeps fingering you, knuckles disappearing between your folds and deliciously preparing you for him.

"turn around for me, little girl."

his words shoot arrows to your core, and it takes a lot of strength in you to do as he says. his fingers find their place right under your jaw, softly pressing into your neck and making it difficult for you to stay sober. he releases every now and then, just enough to let you breathe properly. his other hand moves the back of your dress, giving it to you to hold onto, and then raises your leg so that it rests on the fence. you are now standing on one leg, wet core completely exposed to the cool night air and him.

"good girl," he praises, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "so flexible for me."

you hear a zipper, then clothes ruffling. you breathe out when you feel something smooth and hot rubbing up and down your folds, not yet entering. your head drops from the dizziness of his playful choking, and your eyes widen when you finally see the rest of the view from the balcony.

down there, in the garden behind the manor, there are three benches and a fountain. and on one of the benches, his ex wife. she seems to notice you at the same time you notice her, judging by her sudden jaw drop and widened eyes. you don't get to warn him, as you are interrupted by your own gasp caused by his hot muscle pushing inside your tights walls. he wastes no time in thrusting into you, quickly catching a rhythm while simultaneously pulling your hair with his other hand. at this point, it is more you thrusting back into him than he is thrusting forwards into you. you need his every inch, no matter how fucked up the situation at the moment is.

you can't help it, you look at the poor woman in the eyes, moaning as her ex husband is tearing you apart on the balcony of their once shared holiday manor.

"louder," he growls, speeding up his movements.

and you do it. you moan, louder, not on purpose, but because it really feels that good.

"fuck, your cunt is made for me."

"da-daddy-" you test the grounds, and he halts his movements.

shit, you fucked up.

"what?" he says, out of breath.

"nothing-" you gasp, his fingers pressing into your neck, "daddy, i said daddy-"

you are interrupted by a moan again, as he begins thrusting harder. the woman is on the verge of tears, and even though you feel a little bad, the feeling of her husband's cock filling you up feels too good. you also remember the reason they parted. she did the same with another man. you allow yourself a moment of braveness, already having said goodbye to the friendship with their daughter.

you smile down at the woman, then reach behind to grab mr park's hair. you moan, loud and clear, more for her to hear. the man groans, burying his head into your shoulder and biting down, making you gasp and close your eyes in pain. his hand rests on your lower back, making you arch it just a bit more so he can finally hit the spot you both need.

you open your eyes, only to find her still standing there in disbelief and shock. she is disgusted with you, and heartbroken by him. and you do not care.

"mr. park, you're too big for me-" you choke out.

he slows his movements, then raises his head from your shoulder. he admires the bruise he has created for a moment, then follows your gaze down to the benches. upon seeing his ex wife, you expect him to stop. but he only does so for a moment, before yanking down the fabric on your chest and exposing your breasts. he continues diving into you, softly panting into your ear and driving you insane.

the woman seems too stunned to even move. it is clear she is not enjoying it, she isn't a voyeour.

"you're taking me so well, doll. you should see how abused your pretty pussy looks, begging me to cum all over it and inside it." he growls, then grabs your jaw so that he can look at you.

his eyebrows are scrunched, focused on the approaching orgasm.

"moan for me more, baby, please. you sound majestic."

unable to hold back, you moan into his mouth, hips thrusting back in a desperate attempt to reach the orgasm. it is building up inside of you for so long, threatening to overflow any moment now. but he has complete control over the rhythm, and the moment you start moving too, he chokes you just a little harder.

"sir, please, sir, let me cum- i want to cum on your dick so, so bad," you say everything that is on your mind. he enjoys seeing you vulnerable in his hands, and slows down the pace just to hear you some more.

"you want to cream on daddy's cock, little girl? you want me to fill you up all the way, to have you walk with my cum inside your abused little hole the entire night? have my daughter apologize to you as you desperately try to keep my seed from spilling down your legs?"

"mr park-"

"yes, angel."

"sir-"

"just a bit more, doll."

"seonghwa-" you scream, and he is quick to press his lips on yours to calm you down.

feeling your walls squeeze from the waves of the orgasm, you take him over the edge, his seed painting your walls and making it easier for him to ride his own orgasm out. your body shakes from the intense pleasure, and from the sudden rush of cold air on your bare arms. mr park is quick to release your neck, and wrap his arms around you and press your body against his chest. he kisses you sweetly, simultaneously rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up. his cock twitches inside of you, and he is still slowly thrusting in and out, riding out the rest of the orgasm.

you breathe heavily into his mouth, legs going limp and threatening to become numb any second. he finally helps you set your leg down, and slowly pulls out of you. hot seed spills out of your hole and down your leg, and you are scared that it will stain the dress.

"do you trust me?"

"huh?"

"do you trust me?" he repeats himself, guiding you so that your body is facing him again.

"well, yes, i- oh!"

he picks you up by your waist, so that you can sit on the stone fence. it is wide enough for you to sit comfortably, but if you could choose not to, you would. his hands are holding you firmly, and his eyes tell you he isn't letting go.

"this dress looks gorgeous on you, but it is in my way the whole evening," he huffs, flipping the dress once more.

"no, i'm too sensitive-" you try to stop him, but he hushes you.

"trust. me."

he doesn't touch your clit. he doesn't try to finger you. instead, he collects the white streak that has started the journey down your thigh, pushing it back into your hole. you feel yourself becoming wet again, horny and angry butterflies raving in your stomach. he uses his two fingers to gently push all of his seed inside you again, and he looks up at you with deadly eyes. you recognize the lust once again, and you almost moan at the sight. "now, let's go find my daughter to get your apology." “no!” you protest, panic swallowing you.

“relax. she will say no, I will be mad at her, and she will then ask to go with her mother.”

you try to follow, but you can’t. why is he so careless about his daughter choosing his ex wife over him? he seems to realise your confusion, and laughs fondly.

“that way, nothing can stop us doing this any time and anywhere. and, I can finally make that dinner reservation at the new restaurant. been dying to try it with you.”

“but, I don’t have any money. I cannot pay my share.”

park seonghwa chuckles, then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. you feel all fuzzy and warm, feet swinging under the dress from the simple act.

“I’ll gladly be your sugar daddy. just the more romantic and relationship type of sugar daddy.”

oh.

“what do you say?”

“I say your cum is ready to be washed out so I better go fetch my apology.”

“good girl.”

taglist for this series

@scardorosht @kitty4hwa @atinism @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rkivesofmymemories @i-love-ateez @bangmechann @dandelion-aj @rialovesyunho @bellamuerte1987 @livingdeadlisa @jen176pink @yeosxxx @az-con @313hwa @btsreader12 @dafodillhwa @enhypemen @perfetlysane24 @linoriii @likexaxdaydream @yeosangsbbg @starbvrryhwa @riboism

[imshii-kin]

Good Luck

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Summary : Y/n, who recently taken an interest in the DC universe, finds themself in that very universe after a little roadkill accident.

Prologue, Chapter # 1 (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Never feel guilty for starting again. - Rupi Kaur

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours since Y/n had awoken, she felt like she was in shock. She could remember walking back to her dorm from the public library. She had picked a random comic from the comic section, deciding to venture from her usual picks.

She could remember the bright headlights barreling towards her, the pain, her breath slowly slipping from her...

Y/n doesn't know is she can look at a truck the same way again.

"What do you think could've caused this Lois? She was completely fine yesterday." A man with inky black hair and deep blue eyes paced around the kitchen, his brows furrowed in frustration.

The woman next to him, Louis, placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her husband. "I don't know Clark, it's strange."

Y/n sucks in a breath, she was in the DC universe.

──●◎●──

'...I didn't even get to finish playing through Fnaf.' Y/n thought as she watched her 'parents' talk. Sighing, Y/n recounted her situation, she could remember her past life perfectly, but she drew a blank when she tried to remember anything from this life.

In all honesty Y/n was on the verge of a panic attack, still coming to grips with the fact she died. Not only that, but out of all the universes to be reincarnated in, Y/n was reborn into one of the most dangerous universes out there. Why couldn't she just be reincarnated in a chick flick?

Louis had her arm around Y/n, holding her close and trying to comfort her. She was saying something to Y/n, though nothing really registered.

Justifiably, Y/n didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Clark sat down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his hands. "Y/n, can you tell us what could have happened? Anything at all?" Y/n shakes her head no. She chose not to mention her past life, something in her gut told her to keep it to herself.

Clark sighed disappointedly, "I guess I'll have to call Bruce." He seemed grimace when he mentioned Bruce's name.

That's never a good sign.

──●◎●──

"What do you mean 'No' Bruce!?" Clark yelled at the billionaire, who was trying to calm down and reason with the hero.

"Clark, I just think you're going a little overboard, let me take her back to Gotham. I can use my computers and resources that are stored in the bat cave to figure out what's wrong." Bruce explained. "We don't need to summon the Justice League for this." Bruce's brow furrowed at the stubbornness of the alien.

Off to the side Y/n watched the interaction with morbid curiosity. Though you agreed that calling up the Justice League was a bit... over the top. It was still strange how Bruce seems reluctant to interact with the Justice League in general.

Wonder why that is.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "Why would I let my daughter go to Gotham, for all I know, this is some excuse to experiment on her kryptonian side. Find out more weaknesses," he all but snarled, "or get her killed, just like Jason!"

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't trust her with you, not after..." He shakes his head, turning away from Bruce.

Louis had left your side to talk with Clark, allowing Jon to take her place.

There's some silence, before Jon decides to speak. "...I think you should go." He says. Y/n tilts her head towards him, brow raised. "I gave a friend there, Damien." Jon begins, "he's told me all about Bruce, I think they can help you."

Jon blushes a bit, "Plus, Damien is the most trustworthy guy I know, if you ever need help, he'll be there."

Footsteps approach you both from behind, turning to look, you both see an irritated Clark approaching you. "Well, she doesn't have a choice. She isn't going." He huffed.

"..."

"Clark, do you want her to get the best treatment or not?" Surprisingly, Lois spoke up this time. Sighing, she took Clark's hand.

"Bruce won't betray our trust, plus she'll be in one of the most protected places in Gotham, getting the best treatment she could ever get. I think we should let Bruce take her until we figure out what, or... who caused this."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Bruce sit in silence.

──●◎●──

Chapter 2

[velarisnightsky444]

You're Mine*

Azriel x Reader

This is from my Stargirl fic. OC is Rhysand's sister.

cw: smut, intercourse, d/s dynamics, fingering, oral,

when I published this chapter on Wattpad, someone put the 'holy water' sticker on every other sentence, so do with that information what you will.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Azriel's bedroom in the House was much different than the bare room of the town house. This was had a canopy bed with deep blue sheets. The walls were the same shade, and unlike most rooms in the House, there were no windows.

He went over to the bed, and I watched as he pulled two knives out from under the blue pillows, placing them on his nightstand.

"Just to be safe," he explained to me.

I snorted, thinking how unfortunate it would've been to be impaled by one of those while I slept, or during sex.

I wondered where else he had hidden weapons. The only mess I could find in the entire room was an unorganized pile of paperwork on his ebony desk.

He turned back to me, his shadows clinging to him. The deep lust in his eyes only sparked arousal through me.

"Now that we've spoken of boundaries . . . " I began, too embarrassed to ask. He neared me, lifting my chin so I was forced to look at him.

"You'll tell me when you don't like something," he instructed. "And if you need me to stop anything, you tug on the bond. Understood?" I nodded. "I need words, princess."

"Understood," I whispered, breath hitching.

"You have no idea what you just got yourself into," he smirked.

He waved his hand, and my clothes were gone. I squealed, my breasts peaking against the cold.

"If it's too much for you, just let me know," he reminded me.

"No, it's fine," I promised, shivering against the air. "It just caught me off guard."

He grinned again as something appeared in his hand. A shadow wrapped around my wrists, lifting my hands above my head. I tried to tug them down, but I couldn't.

Azriel took the ribbon in his hand and wrapped it around my head, tying it so I was blindfolded.

Two shadows swirled around me, holding me in place with the other keeping my hands above my head. My wings flared as I tried to get away, but my attempts were futile. Azriel stood behind me, his scarred hands moving down my body. I whimpered and bit my lip.

"Can you be a good girl?" he asked darkly. I nodded desperately. "Words, darling."

"Yes, yes, I can," I promised.

"Yes, sir," he corrected.

I blushed and kept my mouth shut. He pinched my peaked nipple in his fingers until I squeaked from the pain.

"Yes, sir," I finally blurted.

I groaned as his lips moved to my neck. I felt him sucking, biting, and marking me as his. And I loved it. I squealed as his hand moved between my legs while he worked on my neck.

"How else can your shadows join in the fun?" I wondered, panting.

"Oh, you want something more?"

"Maybe."

"So many options to choose from," he mused. "I could make you feel pain, pleasure, or both. What do you want?"

"I want it all," I begged. "Please, Az. I want the pain and the pleasure."

"Are you absolutely sure?" he wondered.

"I want it," I insisted, only wanting his hand between my legs again. "I trust you."

"Tug on the bond when it's too much. When you've reached your limit."

"I will," I promised him.

His lips moved to my neck. He pressed his mouth against the soft skin and bit down, his teeth sinking in. He tugged at my hair to give him further access. I whimpered but didn't want him to stop.

"More," I begged, desperate as my core ached with desire.

"You like this?" he taunted. I nodded. "Words."

"Yes, sir," I gritted out.

"It seems I've already broken you," he murmured against my neck.

Suddenly, all sensation of him disappeared. I whimpered, tugging at the restraints, but he placed a scarred finger to my lips as he stepped in front of me.

"You are mine."

I let out a desperate moan as his mouth closed around my breast. I felt another sensation lower down, his shadow, messing with the bundle of nerves that gave me so much pleasure.

"Az," I whispered, wincing as he grazed his teeth against my nipple. He rolled the other between his fingers. "Want your mouth, please."

"Such a good job asking what you want," he praised, sinking to his knees.

Two of his shadows replaced where he had been, tugging and teasing at my nipples. His lips closed around my core. I let out a cry of pleasure, my head thrown back.

Two scarred fingers entered me as he sucked on the bundle of nerves that made me see stars. The texture of his scars inside of me was still one of the greatest things I'd ever felt.

I didn't care how loud my moans were--it felt too good. Besides, Rhys was the only ones staying here tonight, and he was likely still in the dining room.

The way he curled his fingers inside of me was perfect. Nobody had ever known my body so well.

"Fuck," I whimpered, trying my best to fight the overstimulation. But his shadows held me tight. His fingers hit a spot that made me scream. "Oh, Gods! Gods, I'm gonna--"

"Ask permission," he spoke against my core.

"Please, please, may I?" I begged.

"You may," he granted.

I came with an undignified moan, seeing starlight against the blindfold. My legs were shaking so badly that he had to use his free hand to steady them.

I panted as his shadows released me. My arms were sore as I brought them back to my sides. Az scooped me up and carried me to the bed.

He removed my blindfold and immediately kissed me. I could taste my release on his tongue, which only made me more aroused.

He flipped us around so that I was on top. Feeling a bit more in control, I ran my closed hand up and down his shaft, making sure he was ready.

I raised my hips, and slowly--so slowly--lowered myself onto his cock. I let out a harsh breath, the stretch still so painful. Once I was able to sit, I took a few seconds to let myself get used to the fit.

"Do you want it gentle or hard?" he asked me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek.

"You can be rough with me," I decided.

"Are you sure?" he clarified, quirking a brow.

"Yes, please," I begged, grinding my hips against him to spur him on.

The smirk on his face almost made me regret my words. He gripped my hips, fingers digging into the skin, and forced me up and down on his cock. I cried out at the addicting pain.

He rolled us over, so that he was on top again. Once we'd adjusted to the new position, he began drilling into me again, absolutely relentless.

"Please, please, please," I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for.

He took one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder. I moaned at the new angle, tears forming in my eyes as he found a spot that made me scream.

"Oh, does that feel good?" he teased me. I nodded through my sobs, unable to form words. "Words, Princess."

"Y-Yes," I managed. A warning glance made me realize my mistake. "Yes, sir."

One of his hands closed around my throat, just enough to cause slight discomfort. I groaned as he took his thumb and began to stroke my lower lip while still choking me.

His shadows began abusing my clit and nipples, and I shrieked at the overstimulation. My moans grew louder as I sobbed and squirmed beneath him, absolutely lost in the pleasure.

A coil tightened in my stomach, a burning desire unlike any I'd felt before. He took his free hand and ran a finger down the tendon of my wing. I gasped, squirming against him and the shadows.

"Too much," I moaned.

He was pounding into me, his shadows playing with my clit and nipples, his hand around my neck, stroking my wings. I'd never experienced overstimulation like it before.

"You can handle it, darling," he promised. "Just tug on the bond if you really need me to stop."

I nodded, resting my head back and letting him do all the work. His shadows began to work harder and I realized how close I was.

"Holy shit," I moaned, my nails digging into his back. "Gods, can I cum, please?"

"How bad do you want it?" he grunted.

"So badly, please," I sobbed, the coil dangerously close to snapping. "Please, Az." One of his shadows, probably Nisha, nipped my clit. "Ow! Sir, I mean sir."

"Give it another minute," he decided.

I whined, but obeyed. His shadows slowed down so I wouldn't lose control, or maybe that was my punishment for whining.

Azriel's eyes shut tight, a grunt leaving his lips. It was my sign that he was close.

"We'll cum together, okay?" he offered. I nodded desperately.

He released into me with a groan as I moaned and came hard on his cock. My eyes rolled back into my head as he continued to stroke my wings through it.

When I finally came down from my high, his shadows released me and he pulled out. I felt his release combined with mine dripping down my thighs.

I couldn't move. My eyelids fluttered and my core was sore and dripping. I let out a satisfied sigh as Az lay next to me. I curled up at his side.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Azriel Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @panther-girl-124 @tangled-sun @hawke1917

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking

Comment to be added to the Azriel and General Taglists!

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[miyasturniolo]

DRIVER LICENSE | chris sturniolo

pairing: bf!chris x f!reader

summary: where chris finally obtained his driver's license after years of waiting, but during your first ride with him, he couldn't resist the urge to explore something else.

warning: smut, car sex, swearing, pet names (ma, mama, baby, darling, pretty girl, sweetheart), sub!chris, p in v, dirty talking, hand job, needy chris

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. bro needs his driver license though. OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE STURNIOLO TRIPLETS!!

WORDS: 2.1k

miyasturniolo on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

Matt had always teased Chris about not having his driver's license, especially since he was turning twenty one in less than a week. Little did anyone know, he had been taking driving lessons and had finally obtained his driver's license.

His brothers and you were surprised, but happy for him nonetheless. You couldn't help but wonder how long he had kept this secret, especially since he had even bought a car without telling anyone.

At this moment though, you were in his room, running your hands through his hair in a way that made his eyes roll back in pleasure sometimes.

You were watching a movie together when he suddenly suggested going for a night drive. He trusted himself to drive with you, even though he would need to focus a lot since he had just started driving on his own without an instructor.

"Do you want to go for a night drive?" he asked, shifting slightly to look into your eyes while making sure not to disturb your hands in his hair.

"I don't mind, why do you want to?" you say, and he nods, a smile on his lips. It was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland, but it was a pleasant, contagious smile.

"Are you going to drive?" you ask, and he simply nods again, closing his eyes as your fingers lightly massage his scalp, providing a sense of comfort.

You watch him as he shifts to get out of bed, and you follow suit, changing while Chris casually throws on a shirt over his sweatpants.

He grabs his car keys from the bedside table and then looks at you. "You look fine, baby, no need to get all dolled up," he chuckles, gazing at you.

You smile and listen to his advice, slipping on your shoes while he wears sandals with white socks. You glance at him from head to toe but say nothing, a small smile playing on your lips.

He had just left his room, but he held the door open for you to go first. He smiled and followed you downstairs once you thanked him and walked past, but you waited for him to go ahead after reaching the bottom of the stairs.

He then gently places his hand around your waist and wrapped his arm around you as you both headed to the garage to unlock his car.

You settled into the passenger seat while he took the driver's seat. You chuckled to yourself, which prompted him to look at you in confusion. "What?" he asked.

"I don't feel like I'm with you, it feels like I'm sitting next to Matt," you teased. He just rolled his eyes and playfully hit you in response.

“You're an asshole," he says before starting to drive. He had been nervous about it since he was still new to driving, and there was an unusual feeling in his chest because he was scared of making a mistake. However, he tried to push those thoughts away.

As he began driving, he decided to stop at a nearby shop first so both of you could grab some snacks before figuring out what to do and where to go.

You observed him focusing, finding it new to see your boyfriend behind the wheel, which definitely made him look more attractive.

His blue eyes were fixed on the road, his hands on the wheel showing prominent veins, his messy hair, a small smile on his lips, and the way he quickly glanced at you now and then to make sure you were okay.

He was parked close to the shop and quickly asked, "Wanna come in with me?" Your eyes met his before nodding, and he smiled as he headed towards the car, with you following suit.

As you both strolled towards the shop, he locked the car with the keys and then casually placed his hand on your backside as you entered the corner shop.

"Are you sure you're alright, darling?" he murmured, noticing your silence, but he didn't press further. He simply kissed your forehead.

You found it difficult to resist him any longer - his strong hands, his soothing voice, his masculine scent, and his protective nature all stirred a desire within you.

"I'm okay, I promise," you chuckled softly as he went to grab some snacks, and you tagged along, feeling like he was guiding you. He selected snacks for you and him, insisted on paying, even though you offered to contribute.

He carried the items, holding your hand with his free hand, not allowing you to carry anything. You obediently followed him to the car and sat in the passenger seat as he had instructed.

“Do you know where we're going now, sweetheart?” he asked as he finally settled in his car, gazing at you and gently caressing your cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and relaxing, though your eyes was filled with love and more, as he had seen before.

He continued to look at you a moment longer before kissing your lips, causing you to pull back slightly, but you couldn't due to he made you to stay so your lips are connected to his.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands moved to your hair as he drew you closer, despite the constraints of the gear shift and other obstacles.

“Why do you look so beautiful tonight? You always are, but perhaps it's just the lighting that's making you look so stunning right now,” he whispered against your lips.

He eventually pulled away and removed his shirt, feeling a strong desire for you but managing to restrain himself, asking first, “Are you as turned on as I am?” he inquired.

You chuckled softly, nodded, and took control as he leaned in to kiss your lips. You grabbed his belt, pulling him closer, and kissed his lips quickly before drawing back.

“Want to take this to the back seat?” You suggest, and he simply gazes into your eyes before a smile forms on his lips, which quickly turns into a smirk.

Without saying a word, he climbs into the backseat, and you follow suit, pinning him down and kissing him passionately. His hands move to your backside, gripping it tightly.

“How much do you want me?” you whisper against his lips as you pull back slightly, meeting his blue eyes.

“Really badly, ma,” he mutters, his cheeks turning red. He reaches for your head, pulling you in for another kiss, to which you eagerly respond.

As you both explore each other's mouths, his hands roam over your body, unsure of where to settle. When you eventually break the kiss, he lets out a small whine, keeping his gaze fixed on you, uncertain of your next move.

You remove his shirt, exposing his chest as his fingers graze your shirt. It seems like he's nervous but trying to appear confident.

You remained silent but let out a small chuckle before gently brushing his hair away from his face, causing him to smile.

Soon after, you removed your own shirt, his eyes fixed on your body. Without hesitation, he ran his hand over your boobs, since you haven’t been wearing a bra due to your wearing pajamas before leaving the house.

"Shit, mama," he whispered, gazing at your breasts, unable to tear his eyes away. You simply smirked before kissing his jaw.

A soft moan escaped him as he leaned into your touch, his hand now moving to your hair, tenderly stroking it. However, he found it hard to concentrate, so enthralled was he by your touch.

"Y/n... please," he whispered, struggling to articulate his thoughts. You gazed at him after breaking away from his jawline.

"Look at you... can't even speak properly," you teased, causing him to meet your gaze and squint, though he bit his lip to suppress a smile.

You removed his sweatpants, causing his heart to race faster as you saw his arousal growing due to your actions.

You gently grasped his erection and began to stroke him, eliciting shivers and heavy breathing from him.

"Y/N, oh god, baby, I'm going to cum if you continue," he whimpered, locking eyes with you and then glancing at where your hand was around him.

Pre-cum dripped from his cock, indicating his intense excitement for you. He was unable to contain himself any longer, feeling as though he was being teased.

His legs were trembling slightly as you stroked him, and when you kissed his neck, occasionally nibbling on it, he let out louder moans that were particularly noticeable because you were in his new car.

"Y/N, please fuck me! Please, baby! I'll do anything," he cried out, pulling his own hair as he loved when you did it, pretending his hands were yours.

"So needy for me, I love that from you," you said as you pulled away from his neck, his eyes filled with passion and pleasure.

You continued to stroke him a little longer before pulling away. He whimpered, but then he watched as your hands moved to remove your remaining clothes.

His mouth watered, he bit his lip, and he couldn't help but gaze at your naked body, trying not to moan just from the sight.

"Oh, God," he whispered to himself, unable to resist putting his hands on your body, rubbing your ass, and then moving close to your thighs.

"I just need you to ride me! Please, Y/N," he said, his eyes filled with vulnerability that you loved.

You didn’t hesitate at all, you didn’t want to waste any time. As his hands moved to your hips, you positioned yourself more comfortably against him, feeling his cock covered in pre-cum.

He arched his back when he felt you wrap around him, and you moaned softly as his breath caught. "That's it, sweetheart," he whispered.

His size stretched you, and it took a moment to adjust, but you began rocking your hips, causing his eyes to widen and his moans to grow louder.

"Do you like that?" you asked with a smirk, holding his chest as you increased the pace, eliciting another loud moan from him as you added your own small moans to the mix.

He was rendered speechless as you noticed his heart racing in your hand, but you continued to ride him. Unable to withstand it any longer, he was on the verge of climaxing but held back. His hands reached up to move your hair away from your face.

"Pretty girl," he whispered before releasing a soft moan. You bit your lip to stifle your own moans, feeling his cock pulsating inside you, indicating he was close.

"Me too, baby, me too," you responded, knowing exactly what he meant. Unsure of where to place his hands, he ran them over your body.

As you continued to ride him, planting kisses on his chest and leaving a few hickeys, he whimpered and moaned louder.

"I can't hold it any longer, y/n," he softly confessed, signaling his impending orgasm. You simply hummed in agreement.

His grip tightened as he climaxed inside you, reassured it was safe from pregnancy. He let out a loud moan, rolling his eyes with his mouth agape.

You continue to ride him, causing him to shake as he struggles to catch his breath. His hands tremble on your thighs as you keep riding him towards your climax.

As you felt your orgasm approaching, you surrendered to the sensation, covering his cock with a mix of mutual pleasure.

A loud moan escaped you, causing him to glance at you with a small smile before tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Just lay on top of me," he whispered, guiding you gently to relax as you slowed your racing heart. He continued to stroke your hair while your thumb grazed his chest.

Your sweaty bodies pressed against each other, yet neither of you seemed to mind. Chris shifted slightly to locate your clothes and remembered that he had parked somewhere while you both had been entangled in the backseat.

"Darling, we need to get dressed. We have to head home," he said softly before tenderly kissing your lips.

MIYAS MASTERLIST & INFO

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Master List

This page is geared towards an 18+ Audience. Please read through any warnings at the start of fics as they are there for a reason.

please DO NOT repost my work without my permission.

My Ao3 Account- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

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Fic Commissions are available on my Etsy :)

Who I write for: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, other Marvel Women

What I will write: Smut, fluff, angst, g!p, au

Wanda Maximoff

Oneshots (All 18+)

New Neighbours- After meeting a beautiful woman in a store, you soon discover that she's your neighbour and she's single.

Devil In Disguise- Wanda isn't as innocent as everyone thinks she is.

Break Me- Wanda needs you to be rough with her and give her exactly what she wants.

Detention- Your Professor keeps you behind after class as you were distracted.

Take Control Of Me- You ask Wanda to use you as she wishes.

Are You Interested? -  "I'm very attracted to you, would you be interested in having an affair?"

Heatwave Fun- You and your girlfriend find a way to cool down during a heatwave.

Dirty Thoughts- While babysitting the twins, Wanda is left to listen to all the sinful thoughts of the older woman flickering through your mind.

Listen To Mommy- Your Mommy teaches you a lesson after being a brat.

Focus- Wanda tests how well you can concentrate while her hands roam your body.

Can't I?- "You can't control me the way you do them." "Can't I?"

Teach Me- After tutoring the twins, their mother decides to give you your own personal lesson.

Touch Me- You beg Wanda to give you what you desperately want.

Protective Girlfriend- Wanda gets worried when you hurt yourself in training. You find a way to convince her that you're perfectly fine.

Boyfriend- Inspired by the song by Dove Cameron

Please...- An affair that turns into more.

So Wrong- How can something so wrong feel so right?

We're Going To Get Along Just Fine- You go home with a mysterious woman from the bar.

Attention (G!P Reader) - You're girlfriend thinks you're spending too much time focussing on work so you give her the attention she wants.

A Workout To Remember (G!P Reader)- Your Gym crush makes a move on you.

Trick Or Treat (G!P Reader)- Loosely inspired by WV ep6 and the phrase trick or treat.

Lingerie (G!P Reader)- Wanda surprises you in a new lace set.

Series (All 18+)

The Babysitter (WIP- Currently 144k words)- In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

Secrets (Completed- 23k words)- DARK FIC- "Do you swear on your life?" She lets her fingers trail up your arm, moving to your drag along the side of your neck and your jaw before resting on your chin, holding your face to look at her.

"I swear on my life," you whisper, unable to look away from her.

"Would you be interested in having an affair?"

This fic also includes relationship with Natasha Romanoff in which the reader is not faithful in.

Enemies With Benefits (Completed- 16k Words)- You hated her. She hated you. It was just sex. Nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

Miss Maximoff (Completed- 8k) - After strange circumstances, you find yourself falling for the married woman next door.

I Don't Hate You- After going too far in training, Steve makes you check up on Wanda. Upon hearing a groan, panic fills you before you hear your name falling off her lips in a desperate moan. Oh.

Natasha Romanoff

One Shots

I Wanted You- "We tried so hard not to be torn apart. But at the end of it all, we both wanted something different...I wanted you. And you...you didn't want them to know."

Daddy Issues- TW for Abuse. Inspired by the song Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood

Warm Us Up (18+)- After your reluctance to work together causes you to be stranded in a safehouse, You come up with an idea on how to stop the two of you freezing to death.

I Kissed The Scars On Her Skin- You comfort Natasha after she starts to feel insecure about her body.

Series (All 18+)

The Soldier Of Death (WIP- Currently 32k words) Warning of graphic depictions of violence. - Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

Secrets (Completed- 23k) Dark Fic- Same fic as the one mentioned in the Wanda Series section.

Love Is For Children (Completed 43k) - "You love her, don't you?" "Loved. I loved her."

Bad Idea (Completed 4.7k) - A friends with benefits story that turns into lovers.

You Need Me- Natasha should hate you. You're the enemy. But she can't lie and say you were wrong. She did need you.

Miss Romanoff- What happens when the mysterious woman you went home with turned out to be your new professor...

Wanda And Natasha X Reader

Should Have Knocked- You accidentally walk in on Wanda and Nat in a compromising position. What you didn't expect was for them to ask you to join them.

The Devil And An Angel- Your girlfriends tempt you to sin.

Alone In The Compound- Thinking you were alone, you and Wanda take advantage of the emptiness of the compound. What you didn't expect was for the Black Widow to walk in on you two.

Kinktober

Kinkmas

More posts with links to be added soon, all of posts are on my other accounts so check them out if you want to read them before I post them on here :)

[alphabetboyluvr]

LANDSLIDES - 002 | GUILTY AS SIN - JJK

part title credit: guilty as sin - taylor swift

these fatal fantasies giving way to laboured breath... they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly... without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. (part one link)

warnings: slow burn (emphasis on slow, emphasis on burn), miscommunication, missed opportunities, missing jungkook, inappropriate mentions of masturbation between friends, frustration (sexually and emotionally!)

wordcount: 18K

note from holly: this was supposed to be a 30k chunk but the 1000 paragraph limit told me no </3 so instead, this is part 1 - part 2 will come tomorrow :)

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

When Jungkook comes to stand by your desk, his freshly pressed suit unspoiled from his morning commute and with a coffee in either hand, you know he must be up to something.

"Let me guess," you hum. "You dipped your nib in the company ink again and need me to do damage control?"

It wouldn't be the first time, and the new secretary has been ogling him ever since she started just before the Chuseok break. You've joked about it a few times, but you really wouldn't put it past him.

Popping your coffee on your desk, Jungkook toys with his tie a little, smoothing it down. "Why do you always think so little of me, you little gremlin?"

His pouty whine would be believable if you didn't know him as well as you do. Glancing up from your screen, you're greeted with a smirk. Even he can't keep up his pretence of innocence. "You know exactly why."

"I'm a good boy," he promises. "Got you coffee and everything this morning!"

"Because you want something," you laugh. "I wasn't born yesterday, Jungkook."

"Can a friend not get a friend a coffee just because?"

"Yes—but you don't."

In fact, Jungkook normally waits until midday for his first coffee. Treats it like a reward for getting through the morning without any caffeine. He's gone out of his way today—or just ordered coffee to the office to make it look like he has. Regardless, an effort has been made.

He takes a second. Purses his lips. Narrows his eyes.And then he smiles. "Fine. I need a favour."

"See, I knew it was too good to be true!"

"Oh, c'mon!" He laughs. "I'd get you coffee if you asked."

"I asked last week when I was running late, and you told me to wake up earlier and get it myself!"

"Well, it was your own fault for being out until arse o'clock in the morning!"

Your fault, you think but don't vocalise. It's not like you'd been out with him. You'd been on a date. Another with Mingyu. Hadn't stuck to your word of cooling things off. Spooked yourself with those dreams about Jungkook. Needed to bring yourself back to reality.

If he hadn't asked you to dogsit, you never would have gotten so caught in the domestication of it all. It's your biggest weakness and he damn well knows it. If anything, he should be thanking you for choosing to realign your focus instead of leaning into silly little thoughts about him. It also helps that in the cold, harsh light of Monday mornings, the thoughts just make you cringe more than anything.

"Sorry, Dad," you roll your eyes. "Didn't realise I had to ask your permission."

Jungkook's lips purse in the gentlest of ways, corners upturning ever so slightly. He shakes his head. "You're cranky this morning."

"And you're up to something," you reply. Have barely even had a chance to look over your weekend emails yet, let alone prepare yourself for Jungkook being a nuisance. His department is two floors up. There's no need for him to be here.

In the corner of your screen, an email pings through. Though your glance is quick, it connects a flurry of dots together.

Subject: International Food Expo - we're in!

The company you work at is the head office of a chain restaurant. Jungkook works in franchising—negotiations, specifically. Gets the restaurant placed in the best locations. Recently landed a spot in Starfield Mall. Got himself a nice little bonus.

You're over in the interior design team. It's a small cohort, just three of you, but you're responsible for ensuring cohesion amongst all the spaces. It's up to you that customers get the same feel whether they're in Seoul or Sokcho.

Both starting the job at the same time, directly after graduation, Jungkook had approached you with a strategy in mind. Roped you into creating the interior mood boards and mapping out the spaces before they'd even been acquired. Gave life to them that made it so much easier for investors to imagine.

It had been seen by management as a waste of resources before then—why waste time creating hypotheticals?

They just hadn't yet experienced Jungkook, and all of his charm, pitching for them, using your content to tip negotiations in his favour. It's a partnership that works. Is a practice now adopted by the company across the board, thanks to the pair of you. It's why you work together so often, even if you're on completely different floors and dealing with such vastly different tasks.

"I've been asked to go along," he says, nodding towards the screen. "Little old me is our brand ambassador for the week."

"Congrats," you beam, knowing that Jungkook is the best man for the job. He loves the company. Really believes in the restaurant. Clicking into the email, you scan the details. "A week of schmoozing, huh? However will you cope?"

He's about to joke about how tiresome it'll be, but then you hum in confusion.

"Jeju?" You question, looking at the location. You scroll, just to check you aren't imagining things—but there it is, clear as day. Location: International Conference Center, Jeju. "All the way in bloody Jeju?!"

"It's for international markets," he says, putting his best guess out there. "Seoul's been done a hundred times over for different Expos. Busan, too. I think they're trying to attract more foreign companies—and would the CEO's rather send themselves on city breaks or island getaways? Anyway, that's actually the favour I wanted to ask you..."

It all sort of clicks into place, now. "Bam?"

With a sweet nod, Jungkook offers a gentle smile. "You know there's no one I'd rather look after him. The trip is four days, Tuesday to Friday. If it's too much, I can book him into a kennel, but—"

"No," you shake your head. "Don't do that. You know I'm happy to look after him."

"Sure?"

Jungkook would rather die than leave Bam at a Kennel for the week. He doesn't trust anyone with his baby unless they've proved themselves, but the way you happily cuddle up with Bam on the floor of Jungkook's apartment on any given day of the week is proof enough to him that you love him, too.

If he's gonna trust anyone with his most prized possession, it'd be you.

"One condition," you bargain, 'cause you know that you can. Jungkook'll do anything to have you agree.

"Go on..."

"Have you replaced all the cheese I ate last time I looked after him?"

He narrows his eyes. "Yes."

"Good," you beam. "And could you be a babe and make me some of your pad kee mao? The sauce at least? I can do the rest."

If there's one thing Jungkook will never fail to impress you with, it's his cooking—but your favourite of all of his dishes is his Thai drunken chicken noodles. He imports the special basil needed for it. Goes an extra mile to make sure it's just right. You haven't been to your favourite Thai place since you learned just how well he makes the dish. Will just send him a text when you fancy it, and end up at his place an hour or so later with beers from the convenience store and ice cream sandwiches to chuck in his freezer for dessert.

"That it?" He laughs. "Cheese and noodles? God, you are easily pleased."

"I'm a woman of refined tastes," you say, pompously poised.

Jungkook knows you well enough to know you're no such thing, but he needs this favour, so he doesn't bite. Just says, "And you're sure?"

"I'm sure," you promise. "Now leave me alone. I've got work to do—and thanks for the coffee."

He nods, that little smile of his affecting you far more than it really should. You can't help it. The lighting in your office is far nicer than the rest of the establishment. Makes him look... well, makes him look like himself. Like 'home' Jungkook. The same one who hangs out with you in sweats and messy hair on Sunday mornings, not the suited and clean-shaven Jungkook who swaggers through the corridors of your workplace.

Three of you work in your specific office, and you're all interior designers. Changing the bulbs was one of the first things you did. Lea, your manager, is the most senior in your team. Below you is Jiwon. A fresh graduate, she's still learning the ropes, and as much as you like her, you really wish she wouldn't go all heart-eyed over Jungkook every time he enters the room.

It's not her fault. The warm bulbs just bring out all of those terrible, intrusive little stars in his chocolatey brown eyes. They're terrible, 'cause they're stolen from other people; intrusive, 'cause as he walks away and your gaze follows him, it seems like they've landed in your eyes, too. A secret shared that neither of you even realises exists.

"How do you do it?" Jiwon sighs once Jungkook is out of earshot. "I'd melt if he looked at me like that."

"He looks at everyone like that," you deflect. "And trust me, he's just as disgusting as he is charming. Don't let the tailored suits fool you."

It's been a little while since Jungkook last used the copier room for indecent affairs that would have gotten anyone else into a meeting with HR. Workplace violations are far easier to get away with when you're doing them with someone from the HR department, after all.

Jiwon joined the team just as Jungkook was curbing his bad behaviour. Granted, you know about more of it than most, but everyone who was lucky enough to grab his attention for more than five seconds used it as bragging rights for months.

One thing that you did enjoy about Jungkook's slut era was the lack of women he ever took home. Didn't want to introduce new people to Bam, if they were only going to be fleeting endeavours.

But you're his friend, not a casual fuck. He knew that bringing you into the fold wouldn't be fast nor fleeting. It'd be a lifetime kinda thing.

Which is what makes you feel so guilty as you stand by the water cooler a little later that morning, daydreaming about being back in his space again. Silly little thoughts about facetime calls when you were wrapped up in his sheets, and he was back at his parents' place in Busan. Memories of lazing the days away with Bam, and the look on Jungkook's face as he finally arrived home after a few days away.

You've seen him at home a million times over, but there was something different about him then. Serene. At peace. You know that he was probably just happy to be back with his baby, and tired from driving, but the lazy smile that had hung off his lips, round glasses framing his equally round eyes, just seemed... new.

Your thoughts are cut off by your boss—not Lea, but your actual boss, Mr Seo—calling you into his office. A little flustered, you realise that you've been running the water for too long. Your bottle has overfilled, and the excess tray is almost full, too.

"Hi," you greet him all rather pleasantly, waiting to be told to sit before you actually do so. "What can I help you with?"

A burly man in his late 50s, he built the brand from the ground up. It's been his life's work, and so he's selective with his staff. If you aren't pulling your weight to make the company a success, then he doesn't want you tying your name to it.

When you and Jungkook started going rogue in the early days, he hadn't been happy—but Jungkook had blagged a probation extension for the pair of you. Had told Mr Seo he'd work for free, if he could just prove his strategy would work.

In the version of events Jungkook tells you, he pretends that Mr Seo agreed without docking his pay. Filed away in the back of his cabinet which houses his contracts, past and present, Jungkook has a written agreement with Mr Seo, and a month's worth of missing wages in his salary from that year.

Your pay was never docked, though. Jungkook's a damn good negotiator, and was just as competent back then, too. He was the one that got you into that damn mess in the first place, so it was only fair that he keep you as clean as he could.

What you do know is that you both cut it incredibly fine to losing your jobs before they ever really began. While Mr Seo respects you both for what you've done for the company since then, it still scares you a little bit.

"I trust you've seen the email regarding the Expo, yes?" He says, nodding towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

You take it in a hurried fashion, quickly sitting down because, quite frankly, it feels like your legs are jelly. "Yes, yes. Very exciting! I'm sure Jungkook will bring the company great results."

He nods. Agrees. "And I also trust you've been making plans for our stand?"

You learned of the expo approximately fifty minutes prior. Like fuck have you made any plans.

"Oh, of course!" You bullshit. "As long as we can work out the logistics with shipping our materials to the island in time, it should be brilliant."

How the fuck you're supposed to plan a stand at an Expo for a week's time on a different bloody island is beyond you.

You'll get it done. You always do. You'll just be incredibly stressed about it until the event begins.

"Naturally," he nods. I know the turnaround is tight, so we'd like you to go with Jungkook to oversee the preparations. He arrives on Tuesday, but the event doesn't start until Wednesday evening, so you'll have a day to finalise things."

"Oh," you say, unable to hide your surprise.

"Flight and accommodation will be covered by us, and Jungkook's getting a healthy bonus for any deals signed at the Expo—I'm sure we can make a cut for you, too. After all, you two are our very own dream team."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You want to go. Of course you want to. A trip to Jeju with one of your closest friends? Under the guise of work? All expenses paid? Who wouldn't want to go?!

But without you in the city, there's no one to look after Bam. Sure, Jungkook could take him to a kennel, but you know what he's like. He'll spend the entire time stressed. Won't be able to relax and engage with people in such a way that deals will be cut. Punters usually like him for his carefree nature. Without it? Well, you're sure they'd like him all the same, but you don't want to tempt fate.

"Mr Seo," you awkwardly begin, uncertain which answer will slip out of your mouth. "I'm afraid I already have commitments in the city that I can't cancel. I'm not available."

Silence lingers for a moment. Just a second. It feels like an eternity.

"Very well," he accepts.

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologise, knowing that you probably look like an ungrateful employee. If there's one thing you are, it's a fixer, and so before you can even comprehend what you're saying, you're throwing solutions into the void. "But I know Jiwon is just itching to get more involved with different sides of the business. I can get her on board with my planning this week and coach her on Jungkook's strategies. I'm sure she'd be eager to work hard, if she were given the opportunity."

Mr Seo mulls over your proposition—one of you which you already regret—then nods. "Alright. I'll trust your judgement. Can you send her down to my office?"

"Sure!" You say with a little too much glee, before you retreat back to your office with your tail between your legs. Lea is at a meeting, so once Jiwon has been sent on her way, it's just you, your water bottle, and a whole lot of regret.

Laying your head on your desk, you let out a little whimper.

It's for the best. For the company, for Jungkook, for you. For the sanctity of your friendship. For your sanity.

A message dinging through on your work chat interrupts your self-pity party. Glancing up, head still on the desk, you see Jungkook's name in the corner of your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: oi you little gremlin

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: i could have booked him into a kennel

"Shut up," you groan at your screen.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: it would have been fun :(

Sitting up with a sigh, you poise yourself to send a message back. Find that nothing wants to come out. Your fingers hover above your keyboard with uncertainty. Takes a full minute before you can muster anything up.

Two floors above you, Jungkook is slumped in his desk chair. Has an office of his own, 'cause it's easier for the amount of meetings he has.

In the background of his screen, an email thread with Mr Seo details how Jungkook was the one to ask Mr Seo if you could join him. Explained how it just made sense. Offered part of his bonus package up with it. Said he'd cover the extra expenses if necessary, but that he thought it would be beneficial to the company to have you there, too.

While you're the person Jungkook trusts the most with Bam, you're not the only one. He could always ask Jimin or Taehyung before resorting to a kennel.

As your reply comes through, another email from Mr Seo is delivered, too.

RE: IFE JEJU, Interior Des. Department

Jungkook—

Have spoken with Jiwon. She will accompany you.

Any problems, let me know.

Mr Seo

With a sigh, Jungkook shakes his head. This isn't what he wanted at all.

And when he checks your message, he only frowns even deeper. Unlike you, he's renamed your contact details on his list. Everyone else still has their work-focused username.

Gremlin: It's your lucky day

Gremlin: You get a hot young thing to keep you company instead, wooo

Gremlin: HR if you're reading this, ignore it

Gremlin: Try not to be too miserable without me

He sinks down a little further into his chair. Purses his lips. Would far rather be alone than with anyone that isn't you.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he decides that maybe this is for the best. While he does think it would be good for the company, he knows that isn't why he suggested it. He just remembers what happened last time he spent more than a weekend away from you. Is scared it'll happen again.

Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe he wants it to happen again. Just you and him, away from the confines of life as you know it.

Thing is, you'd have to return home at some point. If anything ever happened between you both, it'd change the very fabric of your friendship. He doesn't want that.

So instead, he decides to reply in the same way he would have done maybe a year or so prior.

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: She'll fall in love with me

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: They always do

Jeon Jungkook, Franchising: Don't say I didn't warn you.

In the warm lighting of Jungkook's living room, the main light is off, lamps providing you with just enough clarity to go over the files on his coffee table.

Over by the sink, Jungkook is washing up your plates from dinner, while Bam leans against his legs. Your overnight bag is still by the door, and Jungkook's glasses are in your hair, keeping it out of your eyes. Highlighter in hand, you're picking out key markets for Jungkook to make contact with over in Jeju.

"Avoid Babiyeo," you tell him, switching over to a thin red pen, putting a star next to their name.

"As in the leisure centres?" Jungkook hums, familiar with the company but not well-versed. The soft melody of his playlist carries a tune around you both, keeping your thoughts connected and in sync.

"Mhmm," you say, flicking over to the next paper. "The CEO's son is in legal trouble at the moment. They're keeping it fairly well covered up, but to do that they're making huge expansions they can't afford. Keeping the news positive, things like that. I reckon they'll go bust before the end of the year."

"Shit," Jungkook lets a breathy laugh escape his lips. Had no idea—but you've both got friends working in various industries. Have your arms dipped into numerous grapevines. Drying up the last of his bowls, he turns to face you and is unable to continue on with his words.

He gets it. Understands why domestication is your biggest vice when it comes to feeling things you shouldn't.

"Acorn Limited are also bad news," you add, putting a little star next to their name.

"Yeah?"

Jungkook puts the now-dry bowl on the counter and walks towards where you're sitting on his living room floor. He joins. Sits on the opposite side of the table. Lets Bam clamber over his legs, and encourages him to sit, too.

"Yeah," you nod, then look across at Jungkook. "They're a hot-shot protein company. Are trying to get themselves partnerships with different restaurants. The guy running it is some twat from Singles Inferno. Company'll be done by the next quarter."

"Some of them do alright, y'know. Reality stars are raking it in—"

"He's besties with the Babiyeo CEO's son," you tell him with a knowing smile. "Kept getting pictured together outside clubs. Whatever baby Babiyeo has been up to, I'm willing to bet the acorn guy has been, too."

Jungkook presses his lips together. Accepts your expertise. Nods, then sighs, "You should be coming on the trip. I can't do this without you."

Yes, he can. He's more than capable. Has closed more deals than most people have had hot dinners.

What he means is that he doesn't want to do it without you, but admitting such a thing verges on territory that Jungkook doesn't feel comfortable entering.

In the house he likes to call his mind, he's bolted the door of the annexe. Occasionally, he will sit and stare at the locks. Wonder if maybe he made a mistake locking you—or more specifically, the idea of you—away in there.

But then he watches Bam choose to shuffle around to your side of the coffee table, and watches as he rests his head on your leg. His snout is by your knee, sniffing at your bare skin with his wet nose. There's something familiar about you. Safe. You don't smell like Jungkook, but you still manage to smell like home, in a way.

"Bam would be even more lost without me," you softly say, scratching behind his ear, and it does admittedly give Jungkook a little solace.

"True," Jungkook accepts, then sighs.

It's getting late and he's got to be up early for his flight. Is leaving for his flight at just gone 3AM, so you're staying over. Crashing on the couch, 'cause having a home gym was more important than setting up a spare room. Thankfully you've never known a couch to be so cosy. Have fallen asleep on it a dozen times over, and it's yet to make you ache in the mornings.

It's all very normal, how you set into a routine. He lets you wash up first. Sorts out Bam while you sort out yourself. Doesn't need to, but writes you out a list of feeding times and emergency numbers. Grabs a spare blanket—one Bam hasn't slept on, but by the morning definitely will have—and turns the sofa into something that really does resemble a bed.

"Sure you're gonna be alright out here?" He asks when you come back through.

He ignores the teeny tiny shirt and even tinier shorts you like to call pyjamas. Or at least he does as much as he can. Doesn't mean to look at your ass. Does it regardless. Four times.

"Yeah," you promise, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge. There are containers full of his speciality noodle sauce and enough cheese to keep you very happy for the next few days. He got an extra block of the one he knows you like the most as a thank you. "Go to bed. Get your beauty sleep, uggers."

"Hey, you need it just as much as I do," he assures you, then tips his head and makes a small click with his tongue. "C'mon, Bammie, bedtime."

The sound of his paws tapping across Jungkook's hardwood floors is ever-so-soothing. It's hard to be in a house with a pet and not inherently feel like home, you think.

"Night night, Bammie," you coo after him. He turns back. Tilts his head, just like his daddy. Trots on over to you for a few more scratches behind his ears. Doesn't leave until you tell him, "Go find your daddy."

Glancing up to Jungkook with a sweet little scrunch of your nose, you hadn't called him that name to take the piss for a change. The scrunch of your nose is actually an outward display of your inward cringe. Jungkook just scrunches his up right back.

"Gross," he whispers, then holds his hand out for Bam to sniff. "Night, Gremlin."

"Night, Kook."

The sharp sound of Bam's bark snaps you awake. The room is dark, but enough light bleeds in through the blinds for you to see Jungkook awkwardly trying to shush him. Rucksack slung over one shoulder, he's holding a bag with his other hand.

"Leaving without saying bye?" You sleepily mumble, rubbing at your eyes with a yawn.

"Didn't wanna wake you," he whispers. Bam, apparently, had different ideas. "He knows I'm leaving."

"What time is it?" you ask, still totally out of it.

"Just gone three," Jungkook says. It'll take him an hour to get across to Incheon, and even though he knows it won't take him much time to get through security, he still likes to be on time. Would have been easier if he was flying from Gimpo, but he's guessing Incheon must have been cheaper.

Nodding, you adjust your body to sit up, and reach out for one of the files on the coffee table. Hold it across for him.

Popping down his bags, Jungkook takes it with great interest.

"Here. I was having a think before bed. Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him," you mumble, thoughts not really cognitive, but you've written it all down for him regardless. "Talk to him about the K-league, or something, I dunno. I reckon Mr Seo would shit his pants if we expanded into stadiums and sports venues."

Jungkook flicks over the notes. Nods. Doesn't know how the fuck you manage to find out half the shit you do, but knows you're wasted on the interior design department.

"See," he softly whines. "This is why you should be coming with me."

"You'll be fine," you promise him, then yawn a little bit all over again. You woke up at the worst possible time.

"You can take my bed, y'know," Jungkook offers. "I'll be gone in a minute or so. It's all yours."

Would be weird getting into his bed while it's still warm, you think.

Shaking your head, terribly covering a yawn, you insist it's fine. He begs to differ, so you double down—until all very suddenly, your notes are tossed onto the sofa beside you, and Jungkook is pulling you over his shoulder. Yelping from the surprise, you don't have time to cognitively respond, let alone demand to be put down.

He wouldn't listen anyways. Instead, he walks you across to his room, and tosses you down on his half-made bed. It's a little haphazard, he finds himself leaning a little too far forward. Almost ends up on there with you. Finds that his blood pumps just a little faster through his veins for a nanosecond.

God, he wishes he wasn't leaving.

Or that you were coming with him, at least.

Can't bear to tear himself away from you when you're all sleepy and sweet and—Oh get a grip, man.

"There," he says triumphantly, pushing his thoughts well out of reach. "Now, go back to sleep, alright? I'll let you know when I fly."

Sitting up on your heels, you find yourself unsure of how to say goodbye—and so you don't really say much at all. Just mumble, "Fly safe."

"Will do," he nods, then exits his room to give Bam a farewell that is just as rough and tumble as yours had been. "Be good for the gremlin, Bammie."

"Fuck off!" You call through, knowing that you'll forever be known as a gremlin, even on your deathbed, you're sure. Tucking yourself under his duvet, you're secretly comforted by how warm his bed still is. Smells just like him, too. "Bye Kook."

"Sleep tight!"

With that, the door slams shut, and everything feels a little colder. Bam whines by the door. Scratches at it a little. Begs for Jungkook to come home.

"Bammie," you call through. "C'mere!"

The way he excitedly bounds through Jungkook's apartment and jumps up onto the bed is borderline comical. He's not used to people being in the house after Jungkook goes out. Thought he was alone—but now he knows he's not, he's quite content. Nuzzles his snout into the duvet and flops his body down on yours. Doesn't realise he's not still a puppy, but you don't mind.

Moments like these make you realise that you definitely did make the right decision.

But moments that come a little later fill you with regret—like the picture that is sent to the office by Jungkook on the work messenger. Working hard or hardly working? He captions it.

The photo is of the booth that's been set up to look like a beach house version of the restaurant. The intention was for it to look like a 'Jeju' branch, of which you're yet to open— but it looks bloody fantastic. How you were able to wrangle contractors and suppliers in such a last-minute rush was nothing short of a miracle.

And yet—

Good work guys!

Wow, looks great!

Jungkook and Jiwon, doing us proud!

Dream team! Good luck!

It's that last one that really bothers you. Dream team. Exactly what you and Jungkook have always been called in the office—but you're easily replaced, apparently. It's your own fault. You're the one who said she should go instead.

It doesn't stop you from walking around with a face of thunder for the whole day. Not a scrap of work gets done. All you can do is lament your choices.

Still, you get to go home to Bam, and that does admittedly soften the blow.

"Show me him," Jungkook immediately whines when he calls later that evening.

You shake your head. "Tell me about the day first."

"That's so not fair."

"Quicker you tell me, quicker I show–"

"Fine," he scowls at you, but softens his expression almost immediately. Yawns. His shoulders press up to his ears as the rest of his face scrunches up. He's lying down on his hotel bed, the crisp white sheets not too dissimilar from his ones back home that you'll be curled up in later that night. "The set up was fine. Most of the vendors are here already. I'm so mad we didn't manage to snag a slot in the catering tent, yanno? Give people a chance to try our menu, but whatever. There's always next year, right?"

"Right," you nod. Yawn, too—and then adorably so does Bam. "It's our first year there. We're just making our presence known. Bigger and better things next year."

"Exactly. Now show me Bam."

His impatience makes you smile. You're just about to tap the switch camera icon, when a sweet, feminine voice echoes through your speaker.

"Did you say something, Jungkook?"

He glances over the sound of the voice, and then flicks his eyes back to you. Gets a read on your face as quickly as he can before you flip the camera, 'cause you're not really sure how much your face is giving away, but you know your surprise wasn't hidden.

"Er, no," he says to the girl. "Just checking in back home—"

"Oh, is that your puppy?" the voice, of which you know all too well, squeals. There's a slight ruffle of sheets as Jiwon tucks herself beside Jungkook. Hair a little damp, the straps of her top are loose against her skin. "Oh my gosh, isn't he the sweetest."

"Isn't he just?" you reply with a smile so fucking fake that it's a good job the camera isn't on you. There's a look on Jungkook's face that you don't really understand. He almost looks guilty—but there's nothing to feel guilty about. He can do what he likes. "Gonna take him for a walk in a bit, then I'm just gonna pop out for half an hour to see Mingyu."

"Are you taking Bam with you?" Jungkook asks, brows a little hard, the ridge between them nicely defined.

"Hadn't planned on it," you chirp, your face just as hard as his. "But I can take him to meet Mingyu, if you like?"

Jungkook swallows. Tries to pretend as if his jaw isn't tense. Is incredibly stern when he says, "Rather him not meet new people when I'm not around."

"Sure," you say, then flick the camera back to you. Are pleased to see nonchalance sitting prettily on your features, no matter how perplexed you might feel."I should be off, though! Call me if you need anything."

"Wait!" Jiwon says quickly, clearly unaware of the weirdness between you and Jungkook. She sees you bickering all the time, so must just figure this is what you're like when you're not ripping each other's heads off. "Just wanted to say thank you—I'm so glad I'm here."

Jungkook's eyes focus on your face as Jiwon gives even more thanks. He doesn't understand the sudden attitude you've developed. All he wanted was to see Bam, but you've a face like a slapped arsed and are trying to hang up. It's fuckin' rude, and if Jiwon wasn't there, he'd tell you so.

He lets you hang up. Doesn't ask you to stay.

"She alright?" Jiwon innocent chirps after you go. "She seems a little..."

"Just tired," Jungkook dismisses. "I woke her up at like, three this morning when I was leaving."

"Oh? She was at your place?"

It's really none of Jiwon's business, but Jungkook chalks it up to her being young, and unaware of when to keep her mouth shut.

"Yeah," he states definitively and plainly, ending the conversation. Heads to the bathroom to clear his head. Turns the shower up to just as hot as the one at his house has been ever since you left his apartment the last time.

'Cause Jungkook's been lying to himself.

There's no lock on the damn annexe. Or at least not from the outside.

The annexe has everything he needs. He's been sitting there, inside, quite comfortably with you for a little while now.

He really did think you were gonna call things off with Mingyu.

Is unaware that Mingyu got left on read four days ago after another dull, fruitless 'how was your day', 'fine thanks, and you?' conversation. As hot as he may be, he doesn't challenge you. Excite you. Anger you. Make you feel any kind of passion.

Which is funny, 'cause you find yourself reaching for a bottle of wine that you know is far too expensive for a Tuesday night glass, just to piss Jungkook off from afar and well in advance of him ever realising what you've done.

Just like you mentioned going to see Mingyu just to get a reaction out of Jungkook.

Childish as it may be, you feel threatened. People praising Jiwon in your place already made you feel insecure at work, and now she's in his hotel room in a state of near undress? Something about it just irks you.

It shouldn't.

It shouldn't, it shouldn't, it shouldn't.

But it does.

And so you spend your evening on Jungkook's couch with cheese, wine and Bam. Put Love, Rosie on, 'cause it's your favourite guilty pleasure film and you think it'll cheer you up.

Instead, you end up silently sobbing by the halfway point, Bam only snuggling into you even further. Can understand that you're upset. Comforts in the only way he knows how.

Sleep is hard to come by that evening. You're full of wine and cheese, so it should be easy. Lights out as soon as you close your eyes—but you toss and turn, and with every move, the scent of him wafts even deeper into your senses. Any further and it might just enter your bloodstream. Seep down into your heart.

By the time morning comes, you feel even more rotten than you did the night before. Have slept on it all. Know that he hasn't done anything wrong, which only makes you feel even more stupid for being so annoyed.

You've also slept on the idea he might have slept with Jiwon. It wouldn't be out of character, but it would be the first person in your department he's shagged. It's always been out of bounds. He knows this. For the same reason you wouldn't shag anyone he works closely with. It'd just be weird. Make meetings uncomfortable.

When you call on your walk that morning, you half hope he won't pick up.

But he does. He always will.

"Hey," he says a little breathlessly. A towel is whipped over his shoulder, sweat dappling his skin. There's something so devastatingly beautiful about mid-workout Jungkook. "Sorry, didn't think you'd call."

Almost as if you're looking for reasons to be annoyed, you take offence to this.

"I always call?"

"Well, yeah, but you were so fuckin' weird last night," he laughs, heading out of the gym and into an empty corridor of the hotel.

"I wasn't anything," you reply back with a scowl—and realise how terribly you're hiding your annoyance. Flick the camera over so it focuses on Bam as he trots along the path. "Just tired."

It's the same excuse he bullshitted to Jiwon. Knows you're talking bollocks.

"Even Jiwon asked what was wrong with you—"

"Oh, well I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you, Jungkook," you snap, completely unjustified. It's too late, though. You've started. Have to see it through. "But if you don't mind, I'm responsible for your pet right now and I'd rather not be having this conversation when I need to be focusing on a million other things at once."

"Fine," Jungkook snaps right back. All he wants is to see Bam, but he doesn't want to be having this conversation either. "But you know what? Don't bother calling back until you've taken that stick out from up your arse."

You shouldn't be surprised when Jungkook hangs up.

But you are.

For the second time in as many days, you find yourself crying. 

Oh, it's all so pathetic! And stupid! There's no need for it, you think.

Thankfully you're not too far from home—Jungkook's home, that is—so you can cut the walk a little short as long as you come home at lunch to check on Bam, too.

You don't even really understand why you're fighting with him. Wish you weren't.

When Jungkook zips open his suit bag as he's getting ready for the Expo opening ceremony, he finds himself wishing just the same.

Tucked on top of his blazer is a brand new tie; one of which he most definitely did not put there. 

An incredibly muted bronze and black paisley pattern swirls over the material, and on top rests a note.

Jungkook rubs his face with a flat palm. Rakes it through his hair. Swallows back the awkward heat prickling at his eyes and the tickle in his throat. Doesn't wanna bawl.

But then he reads the note, and he just can't stop himself.

Dad!!!

You're gonna do great!!!!

Come home soon tho :(((((

Woof woof!!!!!!!

Your Bammie <333

P.S. I'm colour blind but the gremlin said this one is the same colour as me!!! Do you miss me??? I miss you!!!!!

The first time you had ever learned of Jungkook's tattoos was in a dive bar a few blocks over from work. It was just after you'd pulled off your first deal together—the one that set your working relationship in stone—and you'd both been blowing off steam.

The walls were red, and so were your cheeks, blushed from the heat of what it felt like to sit beside him in a tatty booth.

So used to sitting across from him at meeting tables, something about it changed your dynamic. Any threats of being on opposing teams were whittled down to nothing more than a life that could have been.

He had your back. You had his.

Blazer off, his sleeves were rolled up. You didn't ask him about a single one of the tattoos, like he half thought you might. 

Instead, you just accepted him as he was. Didn't stroke your index finger up his arm, tracing the lines, like most girls do as an excuse to get better acquainted with him.

That night he made a promise to himself to never ruin the working relationship you have together.

You work too well to jeopardise it. He has goals. Knew, even back then, that you'd help him achieve his aspirations, like some sort of twin flame type of shit he didn't believe in.

Didn't. Past tense.

These days, when you think of Jungkook and his tattoos, you always think of the snake. It's the one you see most frequently for it's so close to his wrist. Have always understood snakes to represent change.

Jungkook is yet to shed his skin. He's still just the same as he always was, you think, as you get in the lift and head up towards your office floor.

Just 'cause he hadn't hooked up with anyone from the office in a while didn't mean that he'd changed his ways. More fool you for thinking that he might've.

And it's not like it even matters at all. Who he lays down with is none of your concern. You've never cared before. Not really.

It's just that you've been going to sleep in his sheets. Eating dinner he prepared in advance for you. Waking up to his pup excitedly doing zoomies around the room, 'cause he's ready for his walk.

When you get home, you put Bam's leash up next to your coat, which is hung on top of Jungkook's. Kick your shoes off by a pair of his. Use his shower gel when you get washed, and wistfully tuck yourself up into the armchair you helped him pick out for his bedroom. It's tucked in the corner. Is perfect for watching the world roll by.

You know you should have just called him this morning. Spent the entire walk stubbornly hoping that he would instead, but he's just as childish as you are.

You've bickered with him a hundred times over since you first met him, but never like this.

The elevator dings to a stop, pulling you from your tiresome thoughts of Jungkook. Pulling your body from its slumped leaning stature against the mirrored walls, you trudge into a place that endlessly reminds you of him.

Impossible to escape, is Jungkook. Perhaps that's it. Maybe you've just had enough of each other. Need a little time to breathe.

Everyone else who started at the company around the same time as you has already left. It's just you and Jungkook still here from the small pool of fresh graduates that had been taken under Mr Seo's wing.

But you like it here. Like your job. The salary you earn is great—far more than you would get anywhere else.

Again, you don't know this, but Jungkook's always negotiated on your behalf behind closed doors. He makes the company far more money, and does admittedly get a pretty huge bonus every year according to the amount of deals closed.

That being said, he also stomps down to Mr Seo's office in the fourth quarter when news of the next fiscal year's raises are shared. Will demand that your base salary is matched to his. Has threatened, on numerous occasions, to call for a pay disparity audit from external forces if your wage isn't boosted up, even if it means his is cut down to make up for it.

You went out on a limb trusting him in the early days. This is how he repays you.

That's just friendship, though, he thinks. You help him, he helps you.

He also knows you'd probably be annoyed if you ever found out he meddled with things like that.

The girls in the accounting office always think it's so lovely whenever they see the pay increases. Yours and Jungkook's are never quite what they should be, and they know exactly why. It's why they always ask you how he is whenever you go to drop off inventory reports and materials lists with the lead accountant.

You think they just fancy the pants off him.

Which is also true.

And it's also why a couple of them are curiously standing outside your office space, giggling like school girls as you approach it.

"Morning," you smile, then laugh a little too at their giddy excitement—but when you turn the corner and realise what they're so smitten over, you're a little lost for words.

Sitting on your desk is quite possibly the largest bouquet of flowers you've ever seen. Peonies, you think from afar. Pretty and pale pink, they're in a glass vase. Two dozen easily, if not more, blooming just for you.

"Oh," you hum, because it's hardly what you expect to walk into on a Thursday morning.

Mingyu flashes through your head, but you haven't heard a peep from him since you last let your conversation dissolve over the weekend. He has no reason to send you flowers.

But nor does anyone else.

"We tried working out the message," one of them admits. "But whoever your secret admirer is, they're hell-bent on keeping it secret!"

Shameless, you think, suppressing a well-natured laugh. They've got balls to admit that they've read the note.

Walking to your desk, you see it sitting atop of the flowers, and read it for yourself.

Anyone reading the note who knows a single non-superficial thing about the mystery sender would know who it is in a heartbeat. All it takes for you to know is to see the name of who it's addressed to.

Bammie—

She's right. It does match you. When I get home we can dress you up in my new tie.

Tell the gremlin that you deserve head scratches.

And extra treats.

And that I miss her.

Glancing over to the girls, who desperately want gossip, you simply shrug. If they've never heard Jungkook talk about Bam before, then they clearly don't know him at all. If he wanted his name on the note, he'd have put it there.

He could have gotten them sent to his apartment. He chose here. But he also chose anonymity.

And so you give him a little grace.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you bullshit with an apologetic smile that no one believes.

Lea just looks at you from across the room with a raised brow. Waits until the girls leave, then says, "That's not the kind of bouquet you send a colleague."

She already knows you're looking after Bam. That being said, she hasn't read the card. Has no idea what it says. Just knows that there's only one man you ever talk about with such warmth to be deserving of those flowers from.

"Apparently it is," you shrug, all but confirming who sent them with a coy smile.

"I hope he lets Jiwon down gently," Lea sighs, knowing just as well as you do that she's got a bit of a thing for Jungkook.

What she doesn't know is that it's the exact reason you're fighting with him.

Hell, even he doesn't know that!

So deep in your denial, neither do you.

"Why would he need to?" You downplay it all. Lea doesn't know about the awkward call Jiwon inserted herself into, or the fact you've already decided that he must have fucked her. "Like I said, apparently these are the kind of flowers sent by just a colleague."

Lea shakes her head. Has been observing you and Jungkook for years. Was waiting for a Christmas party, or one of those nightmarish summer tennis tournaments for the pair of you to finally figure it out. You're just as thick as two wooden planks when it comes to all of this, or so it would seem. A little push might be needed.

"Colleagues don't send flowers just because," she tells you with an air of authority. "And if I know anything about the stories you've told me, Jungkook doesn't send flowers full stop."

Just like that, you're thinking of those damn tattoos again. The snake, specifically.

Maybe, just maybe, he is changing.

And if you weren't confused before, then you sure as hell are now.

During the summer months, Jungkook often goes home to see Bam at lunchtime. It's not uncommon for you to go with him. In the winter, when the temperature of his apartment is less of a worry, Jungkook probably only goes home for lunch once a week or so.

Walking up to Jungkook's apartment in the middle of the day without him feels a little bit wrong. In one hand, you're holding a peony by its stem. In the other, you're clutching your phone just in case he calls.

In all honesty, you had planned on taking the entire vase back, but it was bloody heavy. You'll wait until he's back in the office.

It might just be paranoia, or the misplaced assumption that everyone is obsessed with what Jungkook does, but you swear there have been far more people passing your office today than usual. People you've seen maybe once or twice in your entire lifetime.

Lea was right. Jungkook doesn't send flowers. 

Has a repeat order going monthly for his mother, but that's it. And even then, he's kind of forgotten about it.

You've debated it with him before; flowers and their presence in relationships. 

He thinks a potted plant would be far more practical, but if he was really going to get someone something, it'd be herbs. Maybe a potted mint bush. Something useful that they could enjoy together.

A few weeks ago, you had told him he'd make an awful sugar daddy.

"Well, yeah!" He'd just laughed. "I save my money for myself. Me alone. If someone wants nice shit, they can get their own job."

"Oh, so you'd never treat a girlfriend?" You'd scoffed, forgetting the fact he never really has girlfriends. Just flings. "Never get her nice shit?"

"Well, that's different," he'd said. "It's not transactional."

"Everything in life is transactional, whether people like to kid themselves it is or not."

Jungkook looked affronted when you said this. You'd had differing perceptions of life for as long as he'd known you, but you'd always been a romantic. Always believed in the prevailing nature of love.

Bam had adjusted in his sleepy position. Curled up a little tighter, then stretched right out. Rested his hind paws on your thighs and tucked his nose into his chest.

"Bam disagrees," Jungkook assured you.

"You trained him using transactions," you reminded him regardless. "Rewarded him with a treat every time he did as you asked. Transactional."

"Okay, but this?" He gestured to where Bam was curled between the pair of you on his sofa. That's always been a rule of his. No sofa for Bam—he's got all the beds he could ever want! But when Jungkook is on the sofa, it's the only place he wants to be, too. "He knows he's not supposed to be on here. He knows he won't get a reward, so why is he up here? It isn't transactional. He just—"

"Is playing you for a fool," you had laughed. "He wants to be on the sofa, so he lets us pet him in return for us not shooing him off. He's the one setting the transaction up. You're the one getting the reward. He's playing you at your own game. Aren't you, baby?"

You'd cooed a little, scratching at Bam's thigh. He shook it ever so gently and readjusted, but didn't stop resting against you.

It was a curious thought; the way that nothing in life ever comes for free. Even the favours you do for Jungkook by dog-sitting are transactional. You get just as much out of those days as he does.

The conversation had mellowed into something else, 'cause Jungkook didn't want to get into a debate. Knows that you can defend your point until the cows come home—has been in enough meetings with you to know as such. Likes being on your side 'cause you always win—and with a negotiator like him to seal the deal, it's always so much sweeter.

As the calling screen of Jungkook's contact details takes over your screen, phone resting against a wine bottle on the coffee table, you wonder how transactional this is.

He gave you flowers, and now you're giving him a call.

Anyone with a rational mind would surely ask: is this not how romance works?

But when he accepts your call, and you're met with a stern face that's desperately trying not to smile, you're reminded of what he really is: your best friend.

Neither of you wants to be the first one who cracks and gives in first, even if you both know this is all so stupid.

You reach over to pick up the peony. Hold it in front of your face. The petals have bloomed so spectacularly that it almost eclipses you.

Jungkook's face scrunches up a little, his terribly hidden smile slightly distorted but ever so hard to hide.

"Will you stop hating me now?" Is all he says.

"Never hated you," you grumble, bringing the flower a little lower, but still in frame. Sitting on the floor, your back is to the sofa and Bam is behind you, right where he's not supposed to be.

If Jungkook is bothered by it, he doesn't mention it. "I missed him this morning."

The guilt that crawls into your stomach and makes itself at home is rancid. Anguish is her name, and she loves nothing more than ruining a good thing.

The frown that steals the pretty smile from your face isn't one that Jungkook enjoys seeing on you, no matter how cute it is when your eyebrows pinch together.

"I should have called," you acknowledge, knowing that it was cruel of you not to, even if you were fighting. "I'm sorry."

Jungkook just smiles. "I assumed the stick was still up your arse."

Narrowing your eyes, you're pleased that he's joking with you; that things feel normal.

"It's fine," he dismisses regardless. "Last night was the opening event so I was a little worse for wear this morning, and then Jiwon was rummaging about at fuckin' six in the morning. Took her fuckin' hours to get ready."

And there it is; confirmation that she's been sharing his bed.

Though you don't frown, there's a stupor to the muscles in your face. The brightness you were looking at him with fades—and very quickly, Jungkook becomes the one who looks unhappy, now.

"What?" He says, genuinely a little confused.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

You just shake your head. Dismiss it. Flick the camera around and lift your phone to focus it on Bam as you give him a little scratch behind the ear.

"He's been good as gold," you begin to waffle on. The ridge between Jungkook's brows deepens. "Best boy in the doggie park, aren't you? There's a new couple who have just started walking a Yorkie. Yappy little bugger. I don't think Bam's a fan."

"No," Jungkook supposes. "He doesn't like yappy dogs—and I don't like it when you deflect. Show me your face, gremlin. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" You insist, but don't flick the camera back. Just get a little more boisterous with Bam, and while it does make Jungkook smile, he can't shake the horrible feeling that's building in his diaphragm.

Your Anguish has a cousin who goes by the name of Confusion, and she adores wrapping herself up in men who fail to communicate in a way that is healthy.

"C'mon," he softly says. Flicks his camera around. Shows you an empty hallway of the convention centre. Says, "I've left Jiwon in charge at the height of the day just so I can answer your call. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"You didn't have to answer," you grumble.

Jungkook is smarter than most. Will have clocked the time of day and knew it was lunch. Definitely assumed you must be with Bam. It must be why he picked up.

Flicking the camera back on himself, Jungkook is almost at a loss for what else he can say to get you to open up.

A little honesty is needed.

And so you pout. Mumble, "They're calling you and Jiwon a dream team in the office."

Jungkook's frown intensifies as his dewy pink lips rest ajar. You'd say he looks distressed, but that's far too intense of an emotion for such a childish qualm.

He just knows that if he heard your partnership with another colleague—especially one in his department—being referred to like that, he'd take offence. It's you and him. You're the dream team. Always have been.

Shaking his head, Jungkook doesn't hide his contempt. Scoffs. "Fuck off. Dream team? She's using your strategies at a booth you designed, and even then, she's barely doing that—you know Acorn guy? The one you said to steer clear of? She's gunning for him—"

"Oh, you're kidding me," you gasp in disbelief. You warned her that he's bad news, multiple times. "Him?!"

"She's young," Jungkook says with a little judgement. Is scared of turning thirty, but definitely doesn't understand people who are closer to twenty. "He's just some hot guy on TV, to her. Doesn't realise his business is gonna tank. She isn't thinking about it long-term."

Which is funny, 'cause Jungkook never really used to think about things long term, either.

Sure, with investments and saving his money, he's always been a little cautious. When it comes to the business, though, it's someone else's money he's playing with. He takes risks. Does dumb shit and it gets rewards.

He really is incredibly good at his job, though. It's part of the reason the women love him, you always think.

It's not.

They like him because he's kind and also so bloody hot he should be on billboards, not in boardrooms.

You like him because he's competent.

In fact, you think there's nothing hotter than a competent man who just knows how to get shit done. And when said competent man can cook like Jungkook? Cares for his dog in the way he does? Looks like he does?

Sigh.

You ignore the way he looks a lot of the time, but you've a pair of eyes and a part of your brain that recognises attractive men. It's hard to ignore all of the time.

"Anyway," he shakes his head. "Not important. She's perfectly fine if not a little misguided—but she isn't you. So, stop worrying about it."

You take a second before you reply. Flick the camera back to you.

It surprises Jungkook, how Confusion has travelled through his bloodstream. Her bony fingers toy with his heart, and he's taken aback by just how sharp her nails are.

Looking at you never used to feel like this. He's not sure why it does now.

You muster up a little courage, even if you can't bring yourself to look at him properly. Let out a deep sigh. Now or never. You run the risk of causing another fight, but if you don't come clean, it'll only dirty everything.

"I just thought we kind of had an agreement, Kook," you eventually whine with an ever-so childish pout.

The hands that have been tearing at his heart migrate through his bloodstream. Get into his brain. Get into his house. Opens doors. Begins moving the furniture.

Stay out of the annexe, his thoughts hiss at Confusion.

Still he seems perfectly calm when he asks, "Watcha mean?"

He's not making this easy for you.

In fact, you'd say he's making it difficult. It would be far easier for you if he just acknowledged what he's already done.

"Well, just..." you take a moment or so to think about how it can be phrased with any dignity—and then you think fuck it. "She's in my department, Kook. I always thought you wouldn't fuck anyone I have to directly work with. It just makes it awkwa—"

"Woah, woah woah," he interrupts. Confusion sits on his shoulder, now, with a twisted smirk on her greyed-out face. "Wouldn't fuck anyone? What the hell do you think I've been doing?!"

"Well, I mean, it's less what and more... who," you joke a little too flippantly.

You don't think he's ever looked so offended in the entire time you've known him.

"You've got to be kidding me."

If anything, you're a bit surprised by just how offended he is. Jiwon is an incredibly pretty girl. A little young for him, granted, but not abhorrently so.

"What?!" You reply, equally confused, then relay everything back to him. "She woke you up this morning getting ready? Was in your room when I called you? Fucking got on your bed right in front of my face and cosied up with you to look at Bam."

Admittedly, that last one was said with a little venom. It annoys you the most.

"She woke me up this morning from across the room," he counters. "Was in our room because we were a last-minute addition to the convention, and it was the only room left within a ten-mile radius—twin beds, may I add! If I don't even share my bed with you when I'm at home, then what the hell makes you think I'd share one with her?! Yeah, the call thing was weird. I'm not gonna lie, it was, but I answered when she was around because I didn't want either of you to get the wrong impression."

A smile wobbles on your lips, as you try to remain stoic. Either of you. You know that you apparently got the wrong end of the stick—but you're not entirely sure what he means by either of you. You wonder what impression he's trying to give her, then decide it's not important.

You clasp your hands together. Lean forward. Put on your best noble old man voice, and say, "Well, it appears that it might have just happened, regardless."

Confusion's perch on Jungkook's shoulder is knocked loose when he laughs, though those sharp nails do claw onto his back. Leave scratch marks that will take a little while to heal—what's important is that they will.

One day, this awkward misstep will be something you laugh about. Kind of like he is, now. You'll forget your tears, but you won't ever forget the strange feeling of weight lifting off your shoulders, mind eased by Jungkook.

"You're a fucking idiot," he laughs with such fondness it almost doesn't feel like an insult. "Seriously? You thought I fucked her? And was then, what? Trying to brag about it? C'mon, you little gremlin! Give me some credit."

Never before has 'gremlin' ever sounded so kind. So warm. So much like 'darling', or 'mon amour'. Secret code for unspoken words.

"I don't know," you whine. Bam shuffles a little bit on the sofa behind you, turning his face away from the noise. You reach back to scratch his head as an apology. Jungkook smiles. Your care for his baby is so innate that you don't even realise you're doing it. "Her hair was damp, and she was practically falling out of her top—"

"Oh, but what I am supposed to do?" He laughs. "I can't tell her to cover up in her own damn room, and even then I just ignore it. I didn't sleep with her. I'm not going to sleep with her. Okay?"

He's not even thought about it. Feels nothing when he looks at her. No excitement. Even if she is attractive, he doesn't think his body would work properly.

Hasn't been working as it should do for the best part of a year now.

Or maybe it would better be referred to as 'malfunctioning'.

'Cause it seems to work okay when he thinks about you.

He 'malfunctioned' earlier on that day, as a matter of fact. Was just showering. And he missed you. And was thinking about those damn pyjama shorts. How smooth your legs had been when he'd hoisted you over his shoulder. How pliant you'd been as he chucked you down into his sheets. Your sleepy eyes and the 3AM husk to your voice. Fuck.

Even thinking about it in a dingy hallway of a convention centre, with your pretty face smiling at him through his phone, is making his heart race. If he doesn't get a hold on it, he'll go into cardiac. Might just flatline.

"Look, I gotta get back, okay?" He softly says. It's not a lie, but it is more sensible than he wants to be. "Have to make sure Jiwon hasn't sold the company to the acorn guy. There's a networking event tonight, so I can't call during Bammie's walk, but I'll check in at some point."

"Alright," you nod, a little sad to see him go, but understanding of it. "Hurry up and come home. Bam misses you."

"I miss him, too," Jungkook pouts. "Show me my baby before I go."

Phone angled to fully capture Bam, you indulge Jungkook for a few moments before he really does have to go. He lingers for a second or so after you say goodbye. Can't muster up anything good to say to make you stay.

Holding the stem of the single peony you'd taken home with you, you roll it between your thumb and fingers. Watch the petals twirl.

"What should I do, hey, Bam?" You wistfully sigh, eventually getting up to pop it in a glass of water. Jungkook has no vases, for he's never had any need for flowers.

The peony isn't the only thing blooming in his kitchen these days, though. It hasn't been for a while.

Work passes slowly that afternoon. You want to get home. See Bam. Finish off the wine you opened so that Jungkook doesn't scold you for letting it turn into vinegar when he gets back. And then you wanna sleep—just so you can wake up the next morning and take Bam on his walk.

It's not like that isn't part of your agenda tonight, too. It's just that Jungkook won't be around for that one.

Instead, his evening is spent in fancy rooms with men in even fancier suits and women who take a fancy to him, too. A whisky is in his hands at all times, his pretty lips embroiled in conversation. He talks so much he barely has any time to drink.

People gravitate towards him; those who feel threatened by his charm gravitate towards Jiwon. Mistake her for a prize he's trying to keep. Don't realise his unbothered facade is anything but a facade.

It's gone midnight by the time he's kicking off his shoes with a little wobble as he gets to his hotel room.

"I'm being serious," he almost giggles, phone between his shoulder and his ear as he loosens his cufflinks. "It's a wig. I'm positive."

280 miles away, phone on your tummy, loudspeaker on as you gaze up at Jungkook's bedroom ceiling, you're laughing too.

"It can't be," you protest the current topic of conversation—Mr Acorn (as he's now affectionately known between you both) and whether or not his hair is real. Jungkook had left Jiwon to continue her poorly judged perusal of him, in favour of checking in with you instead. There was no one else at that party he wanted to talk to more than he wanted to talk to you. Laughing and joking about stupid shit, he's glad you answered. "He went swimming on Singles Inferno!"

"So?!" Jungkook snorts, tapping his phone over to loudspeaker too and tossing it down onto his sheets. A little haphazard, he's unbuttoning his shirt. Is a little tipsy, but not enough to warrant any huge issues. "Maybe he used industrial strength glue."

"Surely he'd rather people just know he was bald? Start a trend?"

"Maybe he's got a terrible head tattoo," Jungkook theorises, tossing his shirt across to a chair, before finally discarding his pants, too. Is just in his boxers now as he clambers into the sheets. "Bald eagle. An ex's name. I dunno. But I'd take chemical burns over that."

"You'd never get a girl's name tattooed on you," you laugh in response. Legs tucked up, heels to your ass, you let your knees gently sway. Bam is curled up in his own bed by the foot of Jungkook's. You're not on facetime, mainly 'cause Jungkook clicked the wrong button, but it's also nice not using poor Bam as an excuse to talk to you.

"And I'm also not balding, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Are you not?" You hum, just to wind him up. "I swear there's a patch of missing hair—"

"Shut up," he cuts you off, voice just as fond as it is stern. "I will swim all the way back to the mainland and speed run up to Seoul just to shut you up. Don't speak it into existence. I have great hair."

"Mmm," you hum. Sinking a little further into his sheet, you turn on your side. Take him off speaker. Hold your phone to your ear. Look at the empty side of his bed and wonder what it'd be like if he were here. Know better than to indulge it. "And you are just so modest, too. Absolutely no ego whatsoever."

"It's why the ladies love me," he jokes, not realising just how true it is. Jungkook takes a moment before he says anything else. Is comforted by the silence you leave for him, totally unaware it's because you're not sure how to respond. "Not that it matters."

Though his delivery is soft and airy, like feathers falling from a well established nest, it lands in your chest with a heavy thud, like a stone from a bridge. You couldn't swerve in time. It shattered your windshield; plummeted straight into your heart. 'Causes a pile up on the freeway, all your thoughts held behind a tongue that cannot speak.

"You tired?" Jungkook hums down the speaker when a response never comes. "I'm sorry, I can let you go?"

"No," you say incredibly quickly considering you've been leaving your side of the conversation empty. "No, sorry. Just can't believe you're actually behaving yourself. Who are you, and what have you done with Cassanova that normally takes a hold of you after a few drinks?"

He's right here, Jungkook laments, knowing better than to act on the way he's been feeling lately. Just says, "Maybe I'm maturing."

"I find that hard to believe," you tell him. If the tiktok psychology gurus who have taught you everything you know about modern men are anything to go by, his brain should have finished fully developing about a year ago.

And while Jungkook would tell you to get fucked and that his brain was already fully developed, he knows that if he sat down and really thought about it, maybe it'd hold some merit. Afterall, it's been about a year since those first thoughts about you started creeping into his mind house.

It's only recently that he's been flirting with that damn annexe door, but he's been aware of someone in there for a while, now.

"What?" He smiles down the phone, resting an arm on his bare abdomen, looking up at the dark ceiling of his hotel room. "Maybe I am. Maybe shagging random girls doesn't excite me anymore."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"Yes," you insist, but there's a smile on your face.

There's something about his denial you enjoy.

It's why you're arguing against him. You wanna hear him deny it again. Tell you he doesn't care about other girls. You don't necessarily want him to care about you beyond what he already does. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

"No," he simply replies back. "I'm not."

"So if Jiwon—"

"Why are you bringing her up again?" He's smirking, now. You can hear it in his tone. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?!"

"Yeah," He insists, just like you had been earlier. "You don't like the idea of her sleeping with me."

Incorrect. You don't like the idea of him sleeping with her.

"Well, no," you admit. "But because I work with her—"

"That's not it," he fights against you. Knows that you didn't go and see Mingyu when you said you would, and also now knows you said you would after you thought he'd slept with Jiwon. He might not be able to read women's minds, but he's learnt your M.O. pretty well over the years.

"You're drunk," you whisper, trying to hide behind the alcohol that both of you have in your systems. Neither of you are in any position to make sensible choices.

"Tipsy," he corrects. "And so are you. Go on. Be honest. Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Yeah, there is," he whispers, his words far braver in sentiment than they are in sound.

You swallow. Can't work out if he's just teasing you or not. "There's nothing."

The silence in the room around you is deafening. It's like all you can focus on is Jungkook, and the way you imagine his lips pouting together at the end of each sentence he speaks. Pretty and pink and—

"So you've never thought about it?" He interrupts your thoughts with a question you're unprepared for. 

"What?" You reply a little dismissively, as if it's an outlandish think to consider.

But Jungkook doesn't buy it.

Has been driving himself insane.

Knows he can't be the only one—and if he is, then maybe he really is insane.

"Us," he replies as if it's water off a duck's back. Simple. Easy. "You've never wondered what it would be like?"

"Kook..."

It's like playing chicken. Both too scared to cross a line for fear of it changing the entire fabric of your lives.

But you can acknowledge something without acting on it. Confirmation means nothing; it's the choices that follow which really mean something,

"Yeah?" He husks. His sleepy eyes are pressed shut, his voice a slow drawl. "What is it, huh? You want me to admit it first?"

You almost laugh at how dumb this whole conversation is. You're friends. Have been for years. Colleagues. Just... Well, just you and Jungkook. He's never thought about you like that. You're certain of it.

Yet still, you ask, "Well, have you?"

He doesn't reply immediately. You half think he's drifted off to sleep, proof that he'd had too much to drink to be having a conversation like this.

But then you hear his breathy little laugh through the speaker. You know he must be nibbling down on his bottom lip as he smirks. The sound is so familiar you can picture it. You wish he was here. Want to see it. Feel it.

Fuck, you curse yourself out. This is not good.

And Jungkook's only gonna make it a whole lot worse.

"Yeah," he quietly admits, keys in one hand and padlock in the other as he stares at the annexe door in his mind. Wide open, there's no going back now. Only forward. "I think about it all the time."

Bam nuzzles the side of his head against your tummy as he adjusts into a slightly more comfortable position on Jungkook's bed. The sheets are a mess from all your tossing and turning, your body plonked right in the middle of his mattress. There's no his side or your side anymore. You've made it yours, and Bam has joined in.

He shouldn't be on the bed. You know this, he knows this. You're both disobeying Jungkook. Are in this perfectly innocent sin together, and will face the wrath of Jungkook as a unit.

There's never really much wrath that comes from Jungkook. He's the type to smirk and laugh in the face of the people who've wronged him. Believes in karma. Fate. He draws the lines at horoscopes, though. Thinks they're bollocks. Smiles, still, when you blame shitty things on Mercury.

The only time you've ever seen him angry—nostrils flaring, jaw tense, agitated beyond compare—was when some guy wouldn't stop hitting on you in a bar. You'd told him no a dozen times over and he just wouldn't listen.

It still pisses you off that he listened to Jungkook without hesitation, but you also know it looked like Jungkook was gonna break his nose. You're far less intimidating when you're annoyed. Jungkook laughs at you whenever you get frustrated. Says you're cute—or at least as cute as a Gremlin can be.

You've got a similar look on your face now, all perplexed and bereft. If he were here, he'd be teasing you, trying to make you crack a smile.

Annoyingly, you know he'd be able to.

You're staring up at his ceiling, early morning light seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. The world you wish to ignore today rudely intrudes on you regardless.

It's his karma, you think.

You disobey Jungkook, the world disobeys you.

With one hand resting on Bam, the other is tightly clutching your phone. For the past five minutes, you've been locking and unlocking it like a wind-up toy drummer.

To call, or not to call, or whatever Shakespeare said.

The faint hum of a wine-induced hangover buzzes between your ears, but it isn't so bad. Probably because you didn't really have that much to drink.

If anyone asks, you'll say you had a bottle.

And by anyone, you mean Jungkook.

If Jungkook asks, you'll laugh— We had a call? Are you sure? —and he'll laugh too— Yeah, we were both pretty drunk —and you'll both pretend like he didn't say the words that he did.

Pulling the pillow he usually sleeps on across to your face, you press it down. Scream into the padding. It's not loud enough to alarm Bam, but it is enough to make him cock his head.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it had only been Jungkook's lips that were loose last night.

The issue is that yours were, too.

You wish you didn't remember all the words you'd said. The way you'd told him to shut up.

The way he'd hummed, "Oh, come on. You know you think about it, too."

The way you'd said, "I do no such thing."

He had laughed. Said you were a liar.

You'd protested. Said it didn't matter anyways, 'cause you both know it'd never work.

"So you have thought about it," he'd teased.

"Briefly."

"How briefly?"

"Like a matter of minutes—"

"Okay, rude," he'd pouted through the receiver. "I last way longer than a couple of minutes."

"You're disgusting," you'd laughed at the way he'd made it all about sex.

For all he knew, you could have been talking about a relationship—but you're right. You both know it'd never work, so of course this is about sex.

"You the one who's thought about it, though," he'd flirted through the phone. Biting down on his bottom lip, the darkness of his hotel room had slipped him into a fatal state of hedonism.

There was a beat of his heart. One. Two. Still no response from you.

He knew you were thinking about it. Thinking about him. Decided to push his luck. Had almost whispered, his fingertips trailing down his torso, as he chanced, "Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?"

Silence continued to linger for longer than it should have, until you finally just whispered, "Kook."

"Yeah?" He'd smirked.

"You can't ask things like that."

But he can, and he did, and your lack of an answer was an answer in and of itself.

He wasn't even really after the truth. He just wanted to get under your skin; burrow himself down into the deepest, darkest, most depraved corner of your brain. Revenge, he thinks, for that damn annexe you've assigned squatters rights to.

You set up home in him? Fine . He'll do it right back.

"So this is what I am, huh?" You'd replied, with a little faux chip on your shoulder, trying to deflect from yourself. "Just another office girl for you to fantasize about?"

There's always been a challenge to you that Jungkook has liked. You're sparring partners. Will bicker and argue and end up laughing over it all. It makes for excellent brainstorming meetings, 'cause you're always trying to win. You bring out the best in each other, even if it is in a bid to do the opposite.

Jungkook had sighed. Weighed up his options. Rested his hands over his boxers, only to find himself far too entertained by the conversation. It wasn't a surprise, nor was it unwelcome.

The frequency of his thoughts about you had been doubling, tripling, quadrupling ever since Chuseok.

His bed has become a pit of sin in recent weeks; nobody but him in the shrouded decay of a mind-house he's been neglecting in favour of the annexe shared with you.

He already knows just how bad it's gonna be for him when he returns home, and the pillows are dented by your crown, the lingering scent of your perfume wrapping around him just like he knows his hand will be around his cock. Tight. Strong. Firm. It's your name he'll whine, just like it was when he was in the shower earlier that morning.

God, it's gotten so bad.

He needs to stop before he ruins everything.

It's not like sex is an uncommon topic of conversation between you both. Casual vulgarity had been a tool used to bond with; a taboo way to tease one another. It's always been casual. Uncalculated.

It's different, now.

In the darkness of midnight, the stakes were raised almost as high as your heart rate.

"You think so poorly of me," he'd whined, a teasing smile on his lips. It wasn't rare to hear Jungkook address you so playfully. In fact, it was a common occurrence—yet it felt strange, this time. "You know you're not just another office girl."

"Do I?"

"You should."

"I don't," you'd shrugged into his sheets. "Tell me, how am I different?"

The distance between you made a flirt like this safe. Immediate consequences were null and void, and the alcohol in your system didn't seem to care for it either.

"I can't tell you."

"Sure you can."

"You don't wanna hear it," he'd promised.

"Try me," you'd challenged.

And then Jungkook admitted something he knew far better than to confess, but couldn't seem to help himself. He just wanted you to know that you were special. That you were different.

That you are different. Are special.

"None of the office girls have ever made me cum in my own bed."

It came out far less sweet than his brain had told him it would, but it was still a compliment, he thought.

"Jungkook!"

"What?!"

The way you both kind of shrieked at each other only amplified the shock of the confession, but also did well to hide the way it excited you, too. Got you hot beneath his sheets. Aroused.

"Don't say things like that," you'd scolded him with a laugh, playing it off as a joke. "I'll report you to HR."

"You'd do no such thing," he'd smirked down the line. Matched your energy. Played it off as an incredibly obscene, vulgar joke. Will turn his nose up if you ever ask him if he was telling the truth. "And anyways, the HR girls love me. You'd be fighting a losing battle."

"You're awful," you'd told him with such a tenderness that suggested you really didn't think that at all.

And so he smiled. Decided to cut his losses. Agreed. "Yeah. That's me."

The conversation dissolved into casual chatter until you both made excuses about being tired, or needing to sleep off the alcohol.

Yet both of you would spend the next hour awake, staring at your respective ceilings. Occasionally, you'd look to the space reserved for him in his bed. He'd do just the same. Would look at Jiwon's empty bed and lament the fact that it wasn't you on the trip with him.

He never should have asked you to watch over Bam—but there really isn't anyone else he'd rather have in his apartment.

Then he's thinking about you all over again, in his home, hair claw-clipped like it so often is, and how cute those little pyjama shorts of yours would look peeking out from the hemline of one of his shirts. He wonders what you're wearing; if it's your bare skin against his sheets. Wonders if he sleeps naked after he gets home, if it'd feel like your arms are wrapped around him; if the scent of your perfume would sink into his skin.

It doesn't take long for the thoughts to become lewd. He thinks of your lips, and how they'd part with a gasp if he were to stroke your skin with his fingertips. Thinks of your waist, and what it would feel like to hold. Thinks of your body in a way that really ought to get him fired.

How his lips could drag across your skin; the wet pink of his tongue learning where you liked to be touched. How he'd guide your hands. The words of approval he'd use— Yeah, like that. Oh, fuck. Yeah, just like that, baby. You're so good at that aren't you, huh? You know how many times I've imagined this? You're so much better. G'na make me cum, babe. Keep going. You want my cum, yeah? Yeah, you do. Oh, fuck—

"No," he sharply scolds himself, tearing his thoughts from you and his hand from his thick, impatient cock. "Fucks sake, man. Get a grip."

Wanting you like this is selfish, he thinks. Selfish and stupid and— God —so fuckin' dumb.

He also thinks it's your fault. You're an interior designer, after all. Have made that stupid annexe feel more like a home than the rest of his head ever has. Added candles and cushions. Hung pictures on the wall; turned off the main light in favour of warm lamps that just make him wanna curl up and fall asleep with you on the sofa.

It's so different, this little annexe in his brain, to the apartment that he actually lives in.

If he were to assess it thoroughly, he'd realise that the annexe looks just like your apartment.

But he hates your place. Has never been shy about telling you so. Hates all your nicknacks. Hates the clothing rails you use instead of a proper wardrobe, and the way your beside table is actually just a stack of books you're yet to read. Hates how there's always a cosy blanket within touching distance, and how it always smells like black cherry candles. Hates how firm your mattress is, even if he's only ever slept on it once, fully clothed after you'd both had way too much to drink after a tight work deadline.

He also hated how he didn't wake up with an aching back like he usually does. Hated how sleeping in his own damn bed began to feel wrong, and how nowadays it only feels right during those first few days after he returns from trips; when it still smells like you and the rings you take off your fingers in the night are still tucked beneath his pillows.

Kind of like they are now, as you finally decide to stop being a miserable cow and just get up. You're normally the one who calls him, and it's typically always when you're walking Bam. Last night had been an anomaly. There's no reason for him to call you, now.

It's when you're showering that your phone lights up. Only briefly. Messages, not calls.

JK: can't call this morning, gotta head to the exhibition hall early

JK: give my baby a head scratch from me

JK: send me pics!!

JK: of bam

JK: none of you

While the vomit emoji he adds onto the end of the final message is a little uncalled for, it's actually kind of a relief that he doesn't want to call. Having to face him right now, when you're in such a sorry state of confusion, would have only made the situation far worse for you.

At least that's what you tell yourself.

Your face when you walk into the office, and the state of despair Lea seems to find you in, would suggest otherwise.

By half past ten, you've managed to wrangle Jungkook into conversation eight times.

It's not until you mention him in relation to Jiwon that Lea seems to notice.

"Okay, so?" She laughs. "Everyone knows you and Jungkook are like a package deal. She isn't taking your spot—plus, you're her senior . If she tried to undercut you, do you think anyone would want to work with her?"

It's a good point, but you don't really care to listen to reason right now.

"But it's not undercutting," you pout. "You saw everyone in the group chat. Dream team. "

The way your voice heightens in pitch and nose turns up as you utter the phrase is nothing short of hilarious, and Lea makes sure to let you know.

"You're being a big old baby about this," she laughs again. "Jungkook's gonna come back, relay all of the deals he's set up, and then he's gonna whisk you up to his office to spend the next two weeks drawing up plans. I doubt I'll even see you!"

Admittedly, in the busy periods, you'll work at his desk. In the big chair. The special one he got after his first bonus. The one on his side of the desk. He'll work on the opposite side—the client side—with his laptop.

It's caused a fair amount of confusion before, whenever people have come to his office. Your nonchalance about it all makes it seem totally normal. Most people don't question it anymore—and if they do, you just say the programme you have to use runs better on his computer than it does on a laptop.

Which isn't a lie.

But you could always just work at your own desk.

The issues is that Jungkook likes to keep you close when he's working. Makes it easier for the random questions he blurts out that you're always ready to answer. Annoys him to no end when you're not there and he has to go off and find you.

By the time he finds you, the question is always half gone or you start blathering on about something completely irrelevant and he forgets it anyway. It makes him antsy not having you close.

Neither of you seem to realise it's not normal.

"Look," Lea sighs, minimising her tab so that she can give you her full attention. "You're the one who suggested Jiwon should go. It's just work! You're acting like a jealous girlfriend—"

"No, I'm not!" You gasp. "Don't be absurd!"

"Well, whose apartment did you wake up in?"

"That's hardly—"

"Whose?"

"I mean— Well— His, but —"

"Who was the first person you spoke to this morning?"

"Okay, that's not fair. I'm looking after his—"

"Who was the last person you spoke to last night?"

You pause. Narrow your eyes.

Lea just smiles.

"At least tell me you're in the spare room and not his bed," she jokes—but when she notices the look on your face, her smile drops. "Oh, you're kidding me! You know what you're like when it comes to domestication ! You're bloody nesting , aren't you?!"

"Oh c'mon," you scoff. "I'm not an animal!"

"Uh, yeah," she says, dumbfounded. "You are. That's the issue with humans. Too many bloody primal desires—"

"I do not have a primal desire for Jungkook!"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never thought about it."

"I haven't!" You assert, eyes locked on hers. It's almost believable. Or at least it is until your lips begin to twitch. The look of shock on her face is borderline offensive. "Oh my God, shut up!"

Lea's face scrunches up in revulsion. Shoulders to her ears, she whispers, "He's a whore !"

"Okay, that's not nice."

"But it's true!"

Sighing, you slump into your chair. Push your pout up to your nose, and then sigh even deeper than before.

Looking across at Lea with such perplexity anyone would think she's just asked you to design interiors for a rocket ship, you decide you absolutely cannot let this confusion get the better of you.

"It's fine," you assure her. "He's coming home tomorrow evening. Once I'm out of his house, I'll be way more rationable about things."

"You sure?"

No.

"I'm sure."

As Jungkook places his rucksack down beside a bar stool in an airport lounge, he can't help but feel like he's doing something wrong.

It's dark outside, and the dim lights of the bar give way to a seedy intimacy that he's always loved about places like this—how fleeting they are. The casual embrace of a stranger's stare can linger for hours afterwards, consuming his thoughts for an entire flight.

Yet the only people he's even looked in the eyes of tonight have been the airport staff checking him through. Even as he asks for a whisky, he barely registers the woman behind the bar.

Placing his phone down, he also discards the lanyard that's been around his neck. He forgot to take it off before heading to their airport, and just popped it back on after going through the scanners.

It's not like he needs it now. The conference centre is miles away.

He's still in his business suit. Left quickly. Just confirmed with Jiwon that she didn't mind him catching an earlier flight and in all honesty, it suited her better. Jungkook had been so annoying about Acorn guy the entire time. Kept telling her it was a waste of energy, and no business would come from her pursuit of him. She wanted the chance to prove him wrong; to achieve something by herself.

"Are you Leaving early, too?" An American accent drawls from beside him, immediately grabbing Jungkook's attention.

A burly man with greying hair takes a perch on the stool beside Jungkook. Nodding towards the lanyard, he holds up his own. Mitch Ellis his tag reads, and instantly Jungkook is reminded of the folder you had handed to him before his departure.

"Did a little research on an American company that's gonna be at the Expo. Their head marketer has shares in a bunch of baseball-related companies. Get pally with him."

The opportunity hadn't arisen. Jungkook barely even had time to breathe, let alone seek out some elusive American businessman—yet here he is, in the flesh, approaching Jungkook.

Sucking a little air between his teeth, Jungkook nods. Laughs. Says, "Got a family to get back to."

What. The. Fuck.

He doesn't know why on earth he said that, he just knows he can't take it back. A family. For Christ's sake! It's not just the abandoned house in his brain that's rotting—it's the whole damn thing. Stupid .

Pursing his lips in approval, Mitch nods. Lends an expression that Jungkook can only assume means he respects the answer.

"Family man," he says. "Don't see many of them in the industry these days."

Jungkook shrugs. Continues on with his bullshit. "I love my job, but home's where the heart is." Or at least, it's where his dog is. Of course, he loves Bam more than he cares to articulate—but a man and his dog surely don't constitute to a 'family'. "You off early, too?"

"Wife and kids tagged along for the trip," he nods, then quickly asks the barmaid for a whisky, too. "Promised I'd take them to Lotte World tomorrow."

Jungkook grimaces. "Ooft, on a Saturday?"

"The crowds that bad, huh?"

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook tips his head from side to side, then says, "Get magic passes for the family. It's worth the extra price. Trust me."

He'd never dream of going to Lotte World on a Saturday.

In fact, he doesn't dream of it full stop. Grew up going to the Busan franchise, and would opt for it any day of the week. Everland would be his second choice if couldn't be bothered for the drive. But never the Jamsil Lotte World. It's always rammed .

"I swear, kids—" Mitch shakes his head "—All they do is bleed you dry."

Jungkook smiles. "I'm yet to reach that stage, but I can imagine."

Mitch looks appropriately confused. Did Jungkook not just make up a bullshit imaginary family? Surely he hasn't faltered already?

Jungkook clarifies, "Going home to my girl and my dog. No kids—or at least if I've acquired one over the last couple of days, it'll be a surprise."

He doesn't know why he said that.

My girl.

Oh, God. He's going insane. He must be. This is ridiculous.

Those stupid dreams of his had already started migrating into daydreams. Now, they're being spoken into reality. This is terrible. Really, truly, awful.

Mitch has an easy ten, maybe twenty years on Jungkook.

His hair is greying, and there are lines embedded into his skin that tell stories of the life he's lived.

While it's his career Jungkook would typically be envious of, he finds himself jealous of Mitch's personal life. Wife. Kids. God, he hates the conformity of it all, but there's an ache in his chest when he thinks about all that he doesn't have.

And it only worsens when he thinks of you and Bam.

"Ah, young love," Mitch nods, again seemingly in approval of Jungkook and his 'choices'—which is bizarre, because Jungkook wants to punch himself in the face. "Make the most of it. You'll be longing for the good old days once the kids come."

It's too late for Jungkook to correct himself. Too late to admit to the truth. To say 'lol, jk, im single, just fancy the pants off my coworker.'

The thought of it all makes him want to hurl. Fancy.

He's never admitted his crush before, not even to himself. Oh, this is all so awful.

And so Jungkook panics. Says, "Hopefully we've got a couple years before then. We're both at the same company, so we're trying to figure it all out before doing anything we can't take back."

What is wrong with you?!

"Oh?" Mitch chirps, encouraging Jungkook to continue.

"Were interns at the same time," Jungkook begins to overexplain, as if it makes it any better. He's speaking a crush into existence that he isn't even sure exists, and declaring it as love of some sorts? Oh, this is really barbaric. He might throw up. Maybe if he pretends to faint, he can get out of this situation. He thinks it would be less mortifying. Yet, still, he continues! "Have gone up through the ranks together, but are different departments."

Why is he still talking about you?!

Oh God, his head is gonna explode. It's like you're building an extension on the annexe. He never gave you planning permission, and yet there you are, concrete trowel in one hand, a brick in the other. You're so pretty, he thinks.

Get a grip!

"HR nightmare," Mitch laughs, then leans a little closer. "Truth be told, it's how me and the missus met—I worked for her Daddy's company. Thought I'd be fired on the spot when we told him."

"But I'm guessing...?"

Mitch nods. "I'm now their longest-serving employee and am set to take over in the next five years," he laughs. Thankfully, it all worked out. Hopefully, the same'll be said for you and your missus."

Jungkook's lips curve into a tight-lipped smile. Decides he has to change topic, or otherwise he might just self-implode. "Yeah. Fingers crossed—anyway, I don't think we had a chance to speak at the conference, did we? What's your company?"

As if Jungkook has earned a gold seal of approval, Mitch nods his head over towards a couple of chairs that overlook the runways. Picks up his whisky. Begins to walk away. Says, "I was about to ask you the exact same thing. What did you say your name was again? Let's talk."

"Jeon Jungkook," he grins, picking up his whisky, finally forcing you out of his brain. "Yeah. Let's chat."

"Bammie," you whine into Jungkook's pillows when the sound of his paws excitedly clattering across the floorboards wakes you. You can't have been asleep for very long. A couple hours, tops. "It's not time for walkies yet."

Burrowing yourself deeper into Jungkook's sheets, you try and drown out the noise–but it's fruitless. Not only is Bam too cute to ignore, you worry that there's something wrong.

Sitting up, eyes all beary, the dark nothingness around you clues you in on the fact it's definitely the middle of the night. Pushing the duvet off your body, you swing your legs over the side of the bed as your phone begins to vibrate. Jungkook's face takes over your screen, and a frown takes over yours.

Part of you wants to ignore it. Wonder if maybe you've already slept through it ringing out, and that's what woke Bam up.

At this time of the evening, Jungkook should be at the afterparty. It's unofficial, and not endorsed by the convention, which only means one thing: people are getting legless.

He'd sent you a message earlier on in the day saying that Jiwon was still trying her absolute hardest to bag the Acorn man, after an unsuccessful attempt the night before. You wonder if he's wing-manning her.

Bitterly, you wonder if she's cut her losses. Turned her attention to Jungkook, instead.

He's probably shitfaced by now.

Part of you worries he'll want to continue the conversation from the night before. You're too sober to even consider flirting.

Sliding across to answer, you hold the phone to your ear and you begin to walk in the direction of wherever Bam may be.

"Yeah?" You croak down the phone, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"You sound chirpy," he teases.

Bizarrely, you think he sounds sober. "Fuck off."

"Charming. Undo the bolt on the door," Jungkook demands down the line, but there's almost an echo, as if he's just in the other room or something like that.

Your feet softly pad into the living room, the darkness not much of a hindrance. You know his apartment like the back of your hand; the veins, the freckles, the grooves dappled in your skin below your knuckles. All it takes is a couple of steps for you to reach the light switch, and absolutely zero thought for you to flick it on.

"Hm?" You mumble a confused sound as light bursts into the room. Your eyes squeeze together, a groan catching in your throat. Blinking once, twice, you adjust quickly. Spot Bam by the entryway, looking up at the door expectantly. One of his paws taps at the steel, a soft whine trembling on his lips. Turning your attention back to Jungkook, you say, "What?"

"'I'm home, gremlin," Jungkook softly smiles down the phone. "Let me in."

"But it-" You begin to protest, knowing that his flight isn't until tomorrow.

Jungkook doesn't care to explain himself. Is just as tired as you sound.

"Let me in."

You don't need to be told twice.

He's home.

It shouldn't make you feel the way that it does, all warm and content.

But it does, and for a moment, you let yourself indulge in the sensation of welcoming Jungkook right back to where he belongs.

Hanging up, you place your phone on the kitchen counter, reaching out to scratch Bam's head when you get to the door.

"Is it daddy, huh?" You ask him as he continues to paw at the door. There's a small metallic click as you unthread the bolt, which is quickly replaced by a robotic beep as you press the easy-release button for the latch.

Before you can even properly open the door, the handle is being pressed down from the outside. The sound of Jungkook's hushed voice echoes into the hallway instantly as he coos over Bam just to wind him up a little before he can see him.

"Who is it, Bammie?" He asks through the door, and you already know exactly what he looks like—smile so large it takes over his entire face.

You help to push the door open, and find that there's sunshine in the middle of the night in Jungkook's hallway.

"You're home," you sleepily smile as you watch Jungkook crouch, arms wide and all-encompassing as he greets Bam in the most boisterous of ways. He's not making any sense. Isn't saying any words. Just lets noises rumble from his throat, of which Bam somehow seems to understand.

In a way, you understand it too. The mental translation is a bit patchy, but you know it's something along the lines of, I've missed you so much Bammie, Daddy's home now, let's never spend time apart ever again.

Glancing up to you, that daylight smile hanging off his lips, Jungkook's got a glisten in his tired eyes.

Maybe you haven't adjusted to the light as well as you think you have, but there's something different about Jungkook. Something that's making your weary heart work overtime. It's all a bit strange. All a bit lovely. All a bit terrifying.

"Yeah," he tenderly agrees, hands scratching behind Bam's floppy ears as his eyes fondly meet yours. How could he ever stay away? "Home."

part three to be uploaded tomorrow <3

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons. 

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think. 

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV. 

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball. 

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?" 

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails. 

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes. 

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room. 

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly. 

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft. 

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you. 

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video. 

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly. 

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder. 

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–" 

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts. 

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick. 

And that's the second thing: it works . He's  more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame. 

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then. 

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it. 

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo. 

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll. 

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask? 

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier. 

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one. 

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen. 

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives. 

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls. 

"Miguel,"  You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–" 

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate. 

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that. 

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure. 

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock. 

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials. 

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind. 

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?" 

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion. 

"...what does that even mean?" 

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day." 

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?" 

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting." 

"Seriously?" 

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused. 

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz. 

"Lyla? Could you let us up?" 

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back. 

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel. 

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–" 

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out. 

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–" 

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–" 

[Let it go, that's enough now–] 

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –" 

"Can you just fucking open the–" 

"What's the magic word?" 

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–" 

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please." 

"Please what?" 

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open. 

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost. 

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer. 

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose. 

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room. 

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye. 

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug. 

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused. 

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–" 

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up. 

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how." 

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas. 

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said. 

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking." 

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding. 

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?" 

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally. 

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure. 

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back. 

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita." 

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl. 

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular. 

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around. 

"I don't sound- " 

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker] 

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have. 

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes. 

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food. 

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!" 

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-" 

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away. 

"Um, we should… we should go." 

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question. 

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?" 

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically. 

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations. 

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? " 

"That's not–" 

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working. 

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile. 

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours. 

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!" 

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair. 

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders. 

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit? 

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around. 

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood. 

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined. 

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate. 

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time. 

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated. 

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session. 

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist. 

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does. 

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to. 

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night. 

"Miguel?" 

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile. 

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?" 

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny? 

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–" 

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything. 

"Are you even listening to me?" 

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly. 

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? " 

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips. 

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue. 

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed. 

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter. 

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you. 

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag. 

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut. 

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs. 

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused. 

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them. 

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his. 

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall . 

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –" 

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt. 

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?" 

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off. 

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff. 

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago. 

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips. 

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that. 

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care. 

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty. 

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours… 

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit. 

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest. 

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same. 

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another. 

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch. 

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest. 

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats. 

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed. 

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck. 

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut. 

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy. 

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–] 

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.  

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–" 

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–] 

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach. 

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt. 

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts. 

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans . 

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly. 

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits. 

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat, 

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears. 

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air. 

_

_

_

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

[itz-mfkn-de]

\\ALWAYS YOU//. M.R

warnings— OOC MATTHEO, Im a sucker for toxic boys but I made him extra sweet in his one idk why, uhhh not many tbh, cussing, kissing, smoking, that’s all I think.

summary— Mattheo was your best friend, always had been, but was the title of ‘friend’ enough?

-my first work for Mattheo! I will eventually get a master list going once I get more comfertable posting on here. This is a repost of one of my works on wattpad, just with some tweaks bc that work was olldddd-

You sat against mattheos 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 out of his dorm window.

"You know, some times, I'm worried for you. You just stare at things, it's weird." He snickered  as he took a drag from his cigarette.

You looked at him and scoffed, "Sometimes I'm worried about your lungs, you're bound to get some type of problem with all that's smoking you do." You half-joked, glancing at him.

He rolled his eyes, tilting his head up and blew the smoke out of his mouth.

"Seriously Mattheo, that stuff is absolute horse-shit for your body." You stated, accompanying your words with a sharp glare.

"I don't do it that often, just when I'm stressed." He muttered, taking his feet off of his desk and turning his body to face you.

"What happened to the whole 'I don't give a fuck about anything or anybody but myself' thing?" You said, mocking him to the best of your abilities.

"First of all I don't fucking sound like that," he laughed and squinted at you "second, just stressed about life, nothing in particular." 

You softly chuckled at his reaction. His eyes broke from yours, looking at some papers on his desk. Your eyes, however, never left his frame. You could stare at him for eternity, everything about his face seemed so perfect, almost as if it were meant to be admired.

You soon realized your staring and quickly averted your gaze towards the window again.

"You gonna go to the Yule ball this year?" You broke the silence, you knew Mattheo hated those things, he hated having to be around a shit ton of people and act like he enjoyed their company.

"Probably not." His demeanor changed, his tone became short, almost snappy.

"Oh, I'm probably just gonna go with Becca." You mumbled, knowing that if no guy was to ask you, Becca had your back.

"Hm." He nearly laughed at your remark.

"What? What's so funny?" You asked, looking back at him, his back still facing you.

"Just surprised you aren't going with a random slytherin guy or something." He answered, but the way he had said it has a strange undertone that you weren't sure how to feel about.

"Well I mean I don't know, I haven't been asked yet." You stated truthfully.

"Ah, I see." He murmured, soon after taking another drag of his cigarette.

You felt tension building in the room, suffocating tension. You weighed your options out, but you decided it would be better to give Mattheo some space, for what you were unsure of.

"Well, Becca and Emma told me they wanted to go dress shopping earlier so I think I'm gonna head over there so we can solidify our plans." You announced while picking up your books and putting them in your bag. 

"Bye Mattheo." You said while walking out of his dorm, expecting a response.

You shut the door when you got nothing, you mind raced with the possibilities on what could've caused mattheos strange behavior.

Maybe he'd just had an off day? No that couldnt have been it, he was fine moments before his attitude took a turn. 

Perhaps he was just having mood swings, you wouldn't be surprised with all the trash he puts in his body.

You stuck with that story and walked back to your dorm, which was on the other side of the slytherin tower. 

You reached it, setting your things down, then quickly turned around and nearly raced to your friends dorm.

The second you reached it, You waisted no time to jump on her bed, causing her to jump. 

"Yes, of course you can come into my room unannounced and lay on my bed." Becca said sarcastically. She had been digging through her closet in an attempt to find a dress. 

"Sorry, I just need to vent." You said while propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Go ahead." She sighed and laid her body weight 

"Okay so, there's this guy. He's like my best friend, but.."

She raised her eyes brows, signaling you to continue.

"But I want us to be more, or atleast I see him as more than a friend. I just feel like no matter how hard I try I can't get him to open up, he just.. won't."  You groaned.

"And everytime I get this sliver of hope that I've made progress, he just completely shuts down, leaving me in the dark confused and a little bit heartbroken!" You borderline screamed, your face shoved into her mattress.

"Okay, uh, let's calm down. If he's not showing any signs of being interested maybe you should just, move on- well attempt to at least." Becca stated ,rubbing your back.

You shut your eyes, truly taking in your friends words.  “hey Yknow what will make you feel better?” She nearly jumped with excitement. “Going to look for a dress in town.”

You knew she only had good intentions but the words kept echoing through your head. The thought of keeping Mattheo as a friend hurt, but it seemed to be all you could do at this point without ruining your friendship.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe you needed to accept Mattheo 

was just a friend.

-

All you could think about was the Yule ball. Over the next few weeks the days flew by, the anticipation growing larger with each one passing.

Of course you had been asked by some sweet guy from the Ravenclaw house, and, taking Becca's advice, you said yes.

There was nothing wrong with him, he just..he wasn't him.

You had decided to get ready alone, slipping into a beautiful green dress you and Becca had picked out. You finished your hair and makeup, looking into your vanity mirror.

You felt beautiful.

You smiled softly at how well you had dolled yourself up.

Glancing up at the clock, you rushed out of your dorm room, realizing it was the time you and your date had agreed to meet at the entrance by. 

You walked gracefully through the halls, a large smile adorning your face. Your heels tapped softly against the ground. You neared the entrance, your breath becoming shallow from the nerves. 

Then you saw Becca, she was wearing a beautiful Maroon dress. She looked absolutely breath taking.

"Hey!— oh my gosh." Becca looked at you, her jaw dropping. 

"You look stunning! Like some type of goddess...." She said barely above a whisper.

"Becca! Stop, you can't be talking, I forgot how to breathe the moment I saw you." You hugged her.

You were about to continue praising her and her beauty, but before you could comment you heard someone call your name.

"Y/n..wow.." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

You turned around to see your date, who was wearing a very clean red and black suit. 

"Oh my gosh hi! Sorry for being a tad late, I lost track of time while getting ready!" You made your way next to your date, not before Becca gave you a sly smile and a push, leaving to go with her specimen she had chose for the night 

"It's okay.., you look amazing." He had said, taking your arm into his. He began to lead you into the ballroom.

"Thank you, I must say, you cleaned up nice." You smiled sweetly at him.

You and him entered the large room full of people, everything was elegant and royal, not a single speck of dust on anything.

You looked around the large room as your date led you down the stairs, you couldn't lie, you felt like a princess. The beautiful architecture of the room, complimented by your stunning dress, felt like something straight out of a fairy tale.

Once you had made it to the bottom of the staircase, you excused yourself away from your date in an attempt to go find Becca again. 

You stumbled past groups of people, many of them were couples having a romantic moment. 

You tried your best not to run into anybody, you dodged dancing bodies and nearly jogged across the dance floor.

You almost missed him.

You almost walked right by him.

You almost could've saved yourself the heartbreak.

But no you saw it—him with some random Hufflepuff girl. 

The way he whispered in her ear, the way she giggled a little too sweetly, everything. 

It all made you wanna cry—or throw up, which one that would be you weren't quite sure about yet. 

"Y/n?" Theodore came beside you and patted your back.

"Theo-Theodore, I thought Mattheo wasn't coming to the dance?" You struggled to get your words out as your eyes darted between the scene before you and Theodore. 

"Oh—uh yeah, he wasn't gonna originally, but some girl asked him and I guess he took a liking to her because usually he just brushes everyone off." Theo answered.

"Oh, I see, I just came to say hello. I'll be on my way now." Before Theodore could argue with your strange behavior you turned your back and walked as quickly as you could back to were your date was. 

You abandoned the idea of going to find Becca, you couldn't accidentally run into Mattheo and his.. friend again.

Instead you decided that distracting yourself with your date would be the best thing for your heart at the moment.

"Hey, sorry , I just saw a friend and got distracted." You said, out of breath.

"Oh. Don't even sweat it, I'm just glad you didn't run away and not come back." He joked, dragging you towards the dance floor. You couldn't help but laugh at his bubbly personality. It was a nice change of speed.

"I hope you like to dance." His hands fell onto your hips, yours made their way to his shoulders.

"I actually hate it." You smiled at him. 

"How unfortunate." Your smile grew when he matched your energy. You nearly forgot what you had seen a couple moments ago.

But alas, you didn't.

You could feel your chest tightening up, the tears bordering you waterline. Just thinking about him touching that girl in any way made you want to breakdown.

"Ex.—excuse me." You tried to excuse yourself as politely as you could. 

You didn't want your date too see you like this, vulnerable, heartbroken.

You urgently walked towards any door in your line of sight. When you finally found one, you ran through it. 

You just couldn't escape him, no matter how hard you tried. He was at every single corner you turned.

You nearly groaned when you saw him propped up over the balcony, smoking of course. 

He hasn't seemed to notice you, still looking out at the stars. 

You couldn't do it anymore, you couldn't spend one more fucking second acting like you weren't in love with him. 

The sad part was you'd rather be his friend than him hate you and be nothing at all. As long as he thought about you, you'd be okay. 

That's what you had been telling yourself, but you couldn't hold onto that lie anymore. 

"Mattheo." You croaked out behind him.

His head shot to the side, looking you dead in the eyes. 

"Angel… what're you doing out here."  He looked back out to the stars, unable to make eye contact. 

"I can't do it anymore."  You said shakily.

He turned his full body around this time, his eyes a dark brown. He blew the smoke out of his mouth, the wind pushing it in the opposite direction.

"I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way.., do you know how hard it was to watch you talk to that girl?" You nearly cried out.

"All the girls you fuck with and then bring them to shit like this, I cant keep lying to myself —wishing that it was me instead of her."

You were on the brink of gasping for air, your head pounded. You couldn't believe you had suppressed these emotions for so long. Every single time you went to Mattheo's dorm, you could barely restrain yourself from kissing him. 

Before you could continue on with your speech 

Mattheo had forced you against the wall. 

His lips met yours in a harsh collision. In an almost immediate reaction, your body responded to his actions, kissing him back with just as much need and hurry.

"You don't get to fucking do that."  He pulled back from your lips, still making sure to keep his face mere inches from yours.

"Every single day, I'd sit there and watch you talk to this new guy, I couldn't do shit about it— I wouldn't let myself do shit about it."

“I knew you deserved so much better than some lousy asshole like me, angel.” His hand held a firm grip on your hips, his other still had its place on the stone wall. 

"It took everything in me not to punch that fucker in the face when I saw him look at you, but I knew you wouldn't want that." You melted beneath his gaze.

His kisses trailed down your jawline.

"During second year, when I went to the dance, I saw you there with Draco, I nearly killed him right after. I couldn't bear to see you with anyone other than myself.. so I wouldn't go, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it so I never went to another ball again." He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Until this year." He mumbled softly in between the kisses he was leaving on your neck.

He brought his face back up to yours, his eyes stormy and clouded with something darker than just simple need.

"What'd he say to you? What did he call you?" Mattheo asked with a dark shimmer in his eyes, one you were hoping was just from the moon.

You swallowed harshly, you hadn't realized how dry your mouth truly was. 

"He just said I looked nice—" 

"Nice? You look fucking ravishing. I've never met a girl as beautiful as you, never once in my life seen a girl who could compare anywhere near you...That's why I call you angel you know...,because even if an angel walked by, my eyes would still be glued on you."

His gentle voice tickled your ears, and your cheeks warmed up beneath him.

"You are my angel."

He kissed you again, only this time it was more gentle. His lips held no rush, they were soft and comforting. 

You were the one to pull back this time, smiling sweetly up at him. He pulled you from against the wall, leaving the two of you in the center of the balcony, under the sparkling stars.

"I can't believe we've been friends all these years, and neither of us made a move."

He spun you around under the moon light, the beautiful sky knocking the breath out of you.

"Hey matty..?”You whispered once he had began to hold you in his arms gently.

"Yes angel?" He matched your tone, the sweet nickname you gave him made his chest tighten up.

"I love you." You closed your eyes, shutting them slowly.

"I love you... I always thought I'd never be the type to say that so freely, guess I just needed to meet the right person." He swayed the two of you lightly, finding a rhythm in the midnight winds. 

"Of course it's you... 

It's always been you."