#If I ever meet you in real life no I didn’t write any of these fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mephisto-reporting · 2 months ago

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus

Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst. [ A disclaimer note - Please be respectful of the request ]

The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.

"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "He’s in Linkon, Boss man’s got other things to handle."

Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"

Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."

Miss Hunter.

The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldn’t have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the association’s movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.

Captain Jenna’s star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You weren’t blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadn’t entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.

Trusted him. Loved him.

You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."

Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.

The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didn’t.

The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadn’t seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.

You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you weren’t: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.

But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylus’ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasn’t as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldn’t shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature… He was all you could think about. He wasn’t as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watching—a fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldn’t be certain if it was real.

And now, it felt like you were losing him.

Your bike screeched to a halt near Meow’s Café. You hadn’t planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.

The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.

Sylus was there. With her.

They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.

You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.

For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldn’t return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.

But you didn’t.

He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phone—it was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.

And you? You were just a pawn, a tool—forgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadn’t even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldn’t bear to watch any longer, but you couldn’t look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.

Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.

It was for the best, right?

You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep waiting for him, couldn’t keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didn’t even know why you bothered anymore.

The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The city’s glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.

For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.

You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.

Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from others—work updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldn’t be.

You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations you’d had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "I’m busy" there. You’d convinced yourself for weeks that he wasn’t brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. You’d always known.

You weren’t as important to him as he was to you.

That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesn’t owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. He’s free to choose who he spends his time with.

But it didn’t stop the tears.

The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourself—reading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.

Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That you’d fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?

No. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted—physically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatier’s shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been grueling—hours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that you’d been running on fumes for too long.

Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.

Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions you’d been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.

Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you weren’t sure you deserved.

"If you’re struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crème chocolate is an excellent choice."

Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctor’s coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.

You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh… thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "I’ll… I’ll try that."

The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.

He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet again—this time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldn’t be your first meal of the day."

The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The stranger’s words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.

A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.

The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiar—a renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. You’d imagined someone older, more weathered, not… this.

For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.

"Of course, he wouldn’t answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.

That left one option.

The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayne’s knowing gaze.

At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, I’m here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He… accidentally dropped this."

The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isn’t in right now. I’ll make sure he gets this when he’s back."

"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.

The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunter’s Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.

Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. You’d responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banter—just the information he needed. He didn’t press, didn’t call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.

That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.

But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.

His voice, his presence—it clung to you, even now.

Why didn’t he ask how I’ve been? Why didn’t I?

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasn’t the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?

The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Look out!”

Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasn’t even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.

For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.

“Hey, you okay?” The cyclist’s voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.

“I’m fine,” you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. “Are you?”

“Yeah, thanks to the gear,” they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. “Guess it did its job.”

Relief washed over you. “Good. Let me just—”

“Wait.” A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.

Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to pain—used to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didn’t need help. You could handle this on your own. You’d always been able to.

But Dr. Zayne wasn’t having any of it.

His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "You’re bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute."

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasn’t asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritative—demanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.

"I’m fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile

“Is this a hunter thing?” he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. “Are all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?”

The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. “I’m not being stubborn,” you muttered. “I just don’t want to bother anyone over something so small.”

“Small injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,” he said, folding his arms. “And I’m not bothered. As a doctor, I’m asking you to wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.

You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.

He’s wasting his time on you.He probably thinks you’re pathetic and weak.Why couldn’t you have just gotten up and left?

Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.

"You’re lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That could’ve been a lot worse."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.

When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, don’t run so late at night. You never know what could happen."

You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.

Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, “Thank you.”

Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.

“You first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just going to say thank you for… you know, helping with this.” You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. “You didn’t have to.”

The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.

"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.

His words caught you off guard. “Oh, right! That. It wasn’t a big deal, really.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “I found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.”

You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasn’t easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didn’t like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?

But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.

"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.

The sheepish look that crossed your face must’ve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “It’s not healthy to go without food, especially if you’re going to keep running around like you hunters do.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but Zayne didn’t give you the chance.

"There’s a diner close by. It’s the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."

You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "It’s really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasn’t having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.

"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.”

You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayne’s calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.

"I’ll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your way—like it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.

Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you won’t. It’s my thank you, remember?"

The diner wasn’t far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm food—steak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread—immediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.

You wanted to say something—thank you, maybe—but the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didn’t seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.

You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.

Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.

"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.

The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his care—it felt too much. You weren’t used to people worrying about you.

But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadn’t expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.

"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.

"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "It’s easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' don’t you think?"

You blinked, taken aback. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve earned the title—”

“And I’ll still have it in the hospital,” he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But here, it’s just Zayne.”

You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.

By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t obsessing over your failures or doubts.

As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Here,” he said simply. “Add your number. In case you ever need anything.”

You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.

“Thanks again for returning my wallet,” he said, his tone lighter now. “And for the company.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It’s not a problem,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The diner’s warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didn’t feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylus’ absence—a hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayne’s calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.

As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.

Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.

You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you weren’t about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.

Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were brief—a nod here, a shared glance there—but over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasn’t long before the conversations deepened.

You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. He’d tease you about your stubbornness, and you’d retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though you’d never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.

But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-related—updates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries you’d tried to set.

One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.

‘Come over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine I’d like you to try—procured it during a recent deal.’

The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined it—the rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldn’t go. You couldn’t risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distance—for your own sake, if nothing else.

‘I’m tired..'

You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.

'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.’

You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.

‘Okay.’

The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. That empty “okay” hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone else’s world.

You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didn’t care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasn’t worth savoring.

Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling in your chest—the one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.

His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from you—a genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You weren’t Miss Hunter; you weren’t anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.

As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. “You’re doing better than when we first met.” he remarked softly.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I?”

He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.

The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasn’t necessary, but you’d insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you weren’t willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayne’s warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.

As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadn’t vanished, but Zayne’s steady presence had reminded you of something important—moments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.

The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle you’d left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too still—unnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.

You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.

You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.

Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. “What—Sylus? What are you doing here?”

He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.

“How—what are you doing here?” you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.

Sylus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.

“Darling,” he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You look… exhausted.”

You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. “It’s been a long day. What are you doing here?”

Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. “A long day,” he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yet you had time for dinner.”

“I…” you faltered, scrambling for a response. “It was just…”

“Just dinner,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. “With… someone else.”

The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presence—his very existence in your space—make your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?

“I didn’t think…” You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. “You didn’t say you’d be coming by. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Show up to see what’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Nothing’s wrong…”you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, Darling.”

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.

“I’ve been busy…” you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.

“Busy,” he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for… him.”

Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think dinner with a friend would..”

“Friend?” he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something else—something raw and painful that you didn’t want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding back—the curt messages, the unspoken finality of his “okay.” You had tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.

His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.

“Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.

Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.

“That’s rich,” you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. “That’s really rich, coming from you of all people.”

Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You had to push, you couldn’t hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldn’t let him see you break—not like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you weren’t the one to blame.

“You've been treating me like a stranger for months,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. “Barely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, it’s like you can’t be bothered. You don’t even see me.” You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. “I’ve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that you’re in Linkon. But you couldn’t even make time to see me.”

You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didn’t deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldn’t let him have that. Not this time.

You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,” you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. “You don’t have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.”

His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes… They weren’t the same as they’d been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasn’t just in the air—no, it was inside him too.

“You know where you stand?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadn’t noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldn’t back down. Not now.

“I’m just an informant, right?” you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t have to pretend you care, Sylus. So don’t stand there with that look on your face like I’m some important thing you need to check on.”

The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylus’s presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.

"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.

But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. “But I couldn’t....couldn’t make sense of it. Of you.”

It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.

His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayal—they didn’t wash away just because you said them out loud.

God, you hated him for this.

But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.

Sylus’s fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presence—it seemed to drown out the rest of the world.

He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldn’t quite define.

You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn't—no, you wouldn’t—let yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.

Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.

“You need to leave… Sylus.” You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.

He didn’t move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. “Why?” His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldn’t explain.

You didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the quiet confusion on his face—the faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldn’t let him see your weakness, couldn’t let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.

“Is it so you can run back to your precious ‘friend’?” The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when his voice—that voice, the one that threaded through the air like silk—was digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years you’d spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldn’t let it.

You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didn’t need this.

Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didn’t need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.

His hands...no, his fingers—snaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.

“Why are you running?” His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath them—something urgent, raw.

You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulled—this unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldn’t, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.

His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?

“You’re not just an informant to me,” he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you this much. That you’d want to distance yourself from me...” His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voice—his tenderness—was like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just say it—say that you couldn’t let him get close again? That you couldn’t survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?

Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within you—anger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.

But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off.

Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. It’s as if he’s afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.

“No, Darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”

"You’re going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and you’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you walk away from this."

You can hear the flicker of something beneath his words—regret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. “I know I was a dick. I know I didn’t respond to you, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to handle it… handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.” His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though it’s a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but there’s also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. “I know you’re still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... I’ll spend a lifetime making up for it, because that’s what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.”

He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I don’t have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away… It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "I’ve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didn’t know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."

You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though it’s wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.

"And Dr. Zayne... I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I don’t even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like there’s a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that I’m fighting for."

"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing back—him with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t... worth it.”

The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small you’d felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.

Sylus’s expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."

You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldn’t let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.

He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didn’t know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasn’t uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, Darling…" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Zayne… Zayne’s just a friend,” you said, your voice fragile but firm, “someone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that I’m not broken.”

Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didn’t disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.

“You’re not broken, Darling.” he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed... and more.”

"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I just... I was afraid you’d choose her over me."

Sylus’s fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. “It was my fault and I accept that.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.

"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "I’m in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I love you, and I need you to know that."

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.

He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.

"I…" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "I’ve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "I’ve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasn’t enough."

Sylus’s expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."

He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "We’re both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "We’ve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."

Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time you’d laughed all night, the first time you’d allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didn’t last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m—"

"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you… everything you’ve been hiding. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. "I see it when you think I’m not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I can’t handle. But I am looking. I’ve always been looking. And I don’t want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And I’m here and I want all of you."

His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.

The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didn’t stop. You didn’t try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.

Sylus’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "I’ve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."

"You’ll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.

He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.

The kiss was unlike any other. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasn’t angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.

Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everything—every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldn’t get close enough to you.

Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.

Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylus’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. “Every day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.

The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certainty—certainty that you were enough. That you always had been.

His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.

"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.

[ A disclaimer note - Please be respectful of the request ]

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

6K notes · View notes

bi-writes · 2 months ago

Text

an eye for an eye | knight!ghost x f!reader

your husband bends to your will. men must learn from difficult lessons how far that bending goes.

type: a continuation of a hand for a hand, but can be read stand-alone (11.6k), AO3

cw: 1600s au, dark!ghost, reader described as curvier/plus-sized, graphic depictions of war + violence, possessive!ghost, war-criminal!ghost, inaccurate historical settings probably, unprotected piv, cumplay, breeding kink, size kink, simon "i'd do anything for my wife no matter the devasting consequences" riley (18+)

Your husband has an insatiable appetite. Such a big man he is; he towers over you, so much so that you must tip your head back always to look up at him. You had to make many arrangements in your house to accommodate his hunger–a pantry stocked full of eggs and less fabric for your skirts.

Your house isn’t like others. Neither you nor Ghost have ever lived in luxury. When he showed you your home for the first time, you had shaken your head–you didn’t believe that such a large place was supposed to be yours, and even now, sometimes you feel like a stranger, out of place when the maids ask you what you want for supper or where you’d like to take your afternoon tea. You don’t like the fuss, the asking, the women that curtsy when you come near, concentrated over the creases in your skirts or the loose thread of your sleeve or the wispy hairs that fall out of your braids. You are told all the time that you must behave like a duchess, that you must poise yourself with your new title and your new money, and you must do the things that duchesses do–but no one says the same to your husband.

He is still allowed to sleep in the barracks. Lick the blood off his gauntlets. Polish his sword in the dirt. He’s still allowed to be everything that you cannot be anymore, he still lives the life he had before.

He still kills; and he is still very, very good at it.

Your queen told you in a letter that the king is very pleased. Ever since your union, Ghost has been quite the conqueror. Bloodthirsty and very determined, your husband has been taking his men across the water. He is not any less impressive off land. Not even the pirates have tried to negotiate; they bend the knee or taste the salt water. You breathe shakily when you read your queen’s letters—her praise for your husband’s conquests, how blessed your family will be and how valuable you are to the crown, how grateful she is that Ghost is no longer a fiend in court but rather a little more polite and a little quieter.

All for your sake. Ghost’s name is now your own, and he refuses to embarrass you now that you have it.

You won’t lie; the bodies that Ghost has stacked since you’ve been wed do not scare you. He’s doing it for you. He has never said it out loud, never told you so, but you know it. He wants to show you what kind man that he is, what kind of soldier—you know he’s trying to prove himself worthy. If he killed a thousand men to have you, how many will he slaughter to keep you?

He sends you letters of his own. Not many, but he does send letters, and while Ghost seems to be ineloquent and entirely too brutish, he has quite the voice when he writes.

To my wife,

The sun falls quicker here. I’d like to come home. Tell me of your day, and I will tell you of mine. There were a fleet of ships that came to meet us at dawn. When we sank three, they begged for us to spare the rest.

I have you to think about now. So I burned them.

Simon

A poet, your beloved.

He signs his real name in his letters. Your eyes skim over most of it–you don’t even blink when he tells you what he does to them. Sometimes he writes in great detail about the screams of a hundred souls, the way burning flesh smells, the taste of dirt in a new place when you know it is finally yours. He doesn’t like having secrets. He tells you all his thoughts, even if they might scare you, because you are his wife, and he has discovered quite quickly that you have been cut from the same cloth.

Even when he is home, and he tells you these things all over again, he can’t help the way his cock hardens when you merely blink and ask him if he has added any scars to his collection.

Ravenous, naughty little duchess, and you are all his. He knows he picked well–he knows, he knows he wasn’t wrong when he saw you across the throne room hiding behind his queen, he knows now that he was right about what he saw in your eyes.

You do hate when he’s away. You’re not used to the maids helping you dress, and you secretly abhor the help. That is why when you hear the shuffle of your house early in the morning, your heart thuds in your chest knowing he’s home.

The staff get antsy when Simon is around. He is very good at keeping an estate for someone that has never had to or ever been taught to, but he leaves the responsibilities with you and only you every time he goes. He doesn’t trust anyone else to do it, and every time he comes back, he makes you sit on one big thigh as he teaches you something new that you need to remember for when he goes away. He demands much of those he employs, and they are eager to please him. Whether it is because they respect him or are afraid of him, you aren’t sure.

Perhaps it’s both.

You sit up as the bedroom door opens. You smile, big and wide and sleepy as he steps into the room. He shuts the door with his boot, slipping his hood off, and you sigh as he grips the clasp of his mask and unhooks it. He tosses it onto the floor, bare-faced, and as he makes his way towards the bed, he sheds the rest of his clothes until he’s completely naked.

You cannot stop yourself from the shaky breath you take. He is all muscle and fat, strong and entirely too scary, but it’s hard to focus on what he really is when he stands before you like this. He has fat thighs, big shoulders, carved muscle of intense labor around his middle and along his biceps. He has large hands with calloused palms and split knuckles, and your eyes meet his own as he comes closer. He’s so gorgeous, even with a face like that. He has a long scar that stretches from one brow to his lower jaw, another that cuts his nose and splits his lip, but those eyes are dark and lovely, and you can’t help the warmth that comes over you when he catches you staring at him, closer, right to his cock that hangs heavy between his legs.

Just as he begins to lower himself onto the bed, you hold out a hand, giggling.

“Simon, if you think you are getting into this bed without a proper bath, you’re mistaken!” You laugh, and he raises a brow.

“Mmm…” He smacks his lips together. “Tha’ right, my lady?” He clicks his tongue. “This is my bed. ’s oll mine. Every blanket…every pillow…” He grips your ankle from under the covers and yanks you towards him. “And every part of you.”

You giggle again, shaking your head, “Please, Simon!” You push him away with your toes. “They only changed the sheets yesterday. You’ll dirty them…” You flutter your lashes. “Will you bathe if I join you?”

He grins wide, licking over his teeth.

“Can’t refuse an offer like tha’.”

You hold out your hand for him, and he takes it gently. You watch as he brings your knuckles towards his mouth, and you bite back a smile when he decides to kiss each one, slow. He tugs finally, pulling you up, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he hoists you up into his arms. You would worry about your weight normally, but Simon holds you so easily, barely even a grunt as he wraps your legs around his middle. You don’t waste another second, cupping his cheeks in your hands and kissing him softly.

It’s never just a kiss with Simon. He slides one of his hands up your back, into your hair, and you whine as he tips your head back just enough to slip his tongue into your mouth. Simon doesn’t just kiss, he consumes. What he did to get back to you, the things he endured, the places he has seen and the bodies he has buried and burned and scattered across the places he now calls country, it’s always to get back to this place.

To you.

“How’s my boy?” He asks when you pull away. He carries you to another room, to where the tub sits, and he rings a bell by the door to call the maids in. You snatch a robe off a hook and cover him with it as he sits with you, but all he does is put a few fingers under your chin and make you look at him again. “Oi. Asked ya question, luv.”

Your lip wobbles a little, and you look away.

“I…” You wait until the maids have gone to fetch hot water to tell him. “I bled while you were gone. I…” You smooth your hands over the robe, distracting yourself. “I’m…I’m sorry, Simon.”

You close your eyes as he leans close, resting his forehead against yours, and you shake a little as he lets out a warm breath against your lips. He moves a warm hand over your soft stomach, cupping you there, and you lean your head back a little at the tender touch.

“It will happen,” he says finally, and your mouth opens to respond, but he sticks his thumb between your lips to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear you blame yourself. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his, for not being here with you, for not be able to take care of you. You give in, suckling on the salt of him, and he grits his teeth as he watches you. “I know. Seen it in m’dreams.”

Simon has dreams. Lots of dreams, but he tells you that they are not dreams, they are glimpses into something that has already happened. When you asked if he was some kind of seer, the kind that the king used to have at parties, Simon doesn’t laugh.

He says the dreams are why he knows he won’t die. Why he is never afraid, because he knows somewhere behind his eyes what’s to come even if he didn’t see the entire painting of it. It is why he knew he would marry you; it is why he paid you so much attention, why he knew he would win his battles, why he always knows whose blood it is in his mouth because he has tasted their death before and relishes in the knowing of it all, in the certainty.

It’s never I think, it is always I know, and Simon is nothing if he is not the most honest man that you know.

So if he says you will have his babe, it is as good as truth. As green as the grass grows beneath his feet, as blue as his sky, and as red as the blood that is caked underneath his nails.

When the tub is filled with water, you let Simon sink into it first. You kneel beside it, picking up a glass of oil, pouring it into your palms before sinking your hands into his hair. It’s gotten longer since he left, in need of a cut, but you smile when he leans his head back into your shoulder. You can feel his content as he relaxes into you, and you admire his physique as you use the warm water and scrub the mud and grime off of him.

“I missed you, husband,” you whisper, and he only lets you massage his hair for a few more moments before he grips you by the wrist and tugs you forward, right into the bath. “Simon!” you laugh, “my night dress—oh!—it’s ruined!”

“Too far away,” he mutters, practically ripping the silk off of you as he tosses it besides the bath. “Mmm…” He cups your breasts with two big hands, smoothing his thumbs over your nipples, and you whine a little as he pulls at them just enough to make them stiffen. “Y’should be naked when I come home,” he says lowly. “I’ll soil y’r bloody gown next time, m’lady.”

You giggle, and he smiles. A real smile. As real as he’ll ever give anyone, maybe the only one that anyone has ever even seen. He has never shown his face in court, and while it angers the women and irks the men, you revel in the fact that all of this is only for you.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

You kiss him softly. The water sloshes, warm and inviting, and sometimes you forget your life used to be anything but joy. A year ago, you would not believe that you would be here, titled, wealthy, in a stone room lit by candles bathing with a blood hungry ghost.

A year ago, you trembled whenever he looked at you. You cowered when you heard his footsteps. What a stupid little girl you had been. What a fool. She had no idea what she could have, the kinds of things she could hold in her hand.

Real power wasn’t being able to command a room with your words. Real power was being able to say anything and have it be believed as truth. Real power was making someone look in one direction and have them see what you see, even if what you see isn’t real.

He lays you down in your bed afterward and eats. Your wet hair soaks the sheets, but you can’t seem to be really bothered as he fits your legs over his shoulders and bends you at the waist, his mouth suctioned to your clit as he eats you slowly. One of his hands is spread out over your tummy, the other you can hear making a squelch as he fists his own cock. It’s slow and methodical, and he slides his tongue between your folds firm, catching what dribbles from you on the tip of his tongue before he swallows it and leans in for more.

He has eaten you in nearly every room in your house. Frightened the cooks tossing you onto the dining table, given a servant a scare as he ducked under your skirts in the library, had the gardeners fleeing as he dropped you onto the grass near the lake and disappeared with a frenzy to eat your cunt during sunrise. It’s maddening, the kind of need that Simon requires, but it’s hard to refuse when you feel so warm and bubbly and happy after he’s finished. A pampered princess you are, never lifting a finger, only awake long enough when he’s home to eat until you’re full and cum until you fall asleep again.

Maybe that’s why you’re not pregnant yet. Simon likes to be here, between your thighs, mouth fixed on your wet pussy until he’s practically exhausted himself with a sore jaw and lax tongue.

He kisses you sloppy after. Licking into your mouth, practically spitting onto your tongue, wanting you to taste—tastes so good, luvvie, don’t ya see, yeah?—wanting you to know why he’s so eager to be on his knees all the time.

You sniffle, a little dizzy, shaking your head.

“’s not what I really want,” is all you whimper, and he nods, because he knows, he always knows.

“I know, luv. I know wot ya really need.”

“I must be broken,” you sob, cradling his face in your hands, and he shakes his head.

“Not broken,�� Simon assures you. He speaks so surely that it’s hard not to believe him. “It wasn’t time.”

“You can’t see the future, Simon! You don’t know!” You cry, and he snarls a little, shaking his head again.

“You listen t’me,” he growls. You shake a little as he grabs your face with one hand, fixing your jaw under his grip as he holds onto you firmly. “Wot I say goes. Y’r my wife, so listen t’me, and listen t’me good. Y’r not broken. Not time. Say it back t’me.”

Your lip trembles, and he rattles your head a little.

“Say it,” he snaps, and you hiccup.

“It’s not time,” you whisper, and he plants a fat kiss onto your tear-soaked lips.

“Just need my cock, luv,” he murmurs. “Tha’s oll. Just need me t’fuck it outta ya.”

You nod, pressing your face to his, and he tuts, reaching down and spreading your legs wide to accommodate him between them as he lays over you.

“’s oll y’need,” he repeats, and you nod again.

You have to take another bath in the same morning; and this time, you weren’t able to walk there.

You like when Simon is home because it’s quiet. The only one that dotes on you here is Simon. The maids do not dress you or do your hair or moisturize your skin. It’s always Simon.

You smile at him in the mirror as you sit at your vanity. He has a brush in one hand, and he’s using it delicately to detangle your hair how you like. His hands are practiced and gentle, and when he finishes, he leans over you as he starts to part your hair to braid it. He did not have sisters, but his mother had him always do her hair after she lost the use of her hands with age. You don’t know where his mother is, but you assume she is not here anymore, because he never invites you to meet her.

He oils your skin. He slips the robe off of you, revealing your damp skin from the bath, and he slathers oil in his hands before using it to soften your skin. He takes his time, smoothing those big hands over your shoulders, down your back, along your arms. You tilt your head back when he warms your breasts, squeezing and fondling your tits. He murmurs in your ear the entire time, and he has to fuck you with his fingers to quiet you when he stops because just his hands on your tits has you wet all over again.

He dresses you, too. Helps you slip into your undergarments, fastens the cage for your skirts over your hips. He ties them skillfully, and after he layers your skirts over the farthingale, he gets you into your corset. It’s intimate as he does this. Even with your wide skirt, he comes closer, over your shoulder, and he tugs at the laces at your back, pulling it tight with firm grunts. You sigh when he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hand skimming over your breasts as they sit nice and perky between stiff fabric and whalebone.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, unnerving…the way ya look…”

You close your eyes, “S-Simon, please…I’m already dressed…”

He chuckles, “I know. I know.”

But when he has to leave again, you nearly come with him. You fasten his armor for him, help him slip each piece of leather on and click every piece of metal into place. You tie his cloak and slip his mask on, and you try and duck your head when you flip his hood up, but he catches you, tilting your chin up.

He huffs when he sees your face. Tears sliding down your cheeks, lips wet with them, eyes all glassy and red. He draws you up onto your toes, pressing his mouth to yours through the mask, and you hold onto him tightly, digging your nails into his chest armor and threatening to not let go.

“I want to go.“

“No.”

“Simon, let me go,” You gasp, begging, gripping his hood in firm fists and not caring that his armor is cutting into your front. “Let me go with you, I can’t do this anymore, I want to go, I can do it.”

You aren’t sure if Simon underestimates you. You think it’s more that he does not want you to see him in a place where he is most true. Where he wears the least of a disguise. He does not know he wears it the least with you, and that you have already seen his blood and how it curdles under his skin. You like it that way. You like him angry…and mean…and terrible. You like him when his sword is dirty and his armor needs polishing and his mind thinks of nothing else besides war. He should know this by now. He should know that you see him and see what he is even more than his king, more than his men.

He couldn’t scare you, even if he tried.

“War is not where women go,” Simon snaps. His tone is harsh, even for you, and you stiffen when he grips you by the jaw and rattles your head a little. “Especially not one like you, my love. War would eat ya, eat ya fuckin’ whole. Look at ya…” He huffs, deep, sliding that gloved hand down your throat to slip it beneath the neckline of your dress and fondle your breast with a firm grip. “Beautiful. Meant for my lips…for these dresses…meant to be held in my hands, not bleed from stray arrows, because tha’ is surely the least of wot they would do t’ya if they knew ya were my wife. Now ya will wipe these tears, ‘n see me off, and then ya will come back inside like a good girl, ‘n you will wait for me here until I come back.”

Your bottom lip trembles, and you scowl up at him. Not indifference, but frustration, and Simon doesn’t think it suits you.

“I’m sick of waiting for you, Simon,” you spit. “It’s all I ever do, wait. Wait for you to come back, alive or dead, I never know. And don’t say you do this for country, that is a lie.” You shove him backwards, but he barely budges when your hands touch his chest, a rigid wall that does not give. “You do it because you like it. You’re a bloodthirsty dog, and all you do is bend to our king’s will.”

A lie, but you tell it anyways, because you want something, and he will not give it to you.

“That is my duty.”

“Your duty is to me,” you snap. “Kings come and go, but I will not.” Simon stills. He glares down at you from behind his mask, and perhaps this might terrify his men, but that you are not. You are his wife, and you are protected by that title alone. The only man to ever lay a hand on you would not live to see another second, himself included. “Now you will let me join you, or so help me God, Simon, I will not be here when you return.”

You do not expect the full-bellied laugh that leaves him. His armor shakes with him, and you grind your teeth, narrowing your eyes. He uses his thumb to force his mask up, and then he cups the back of your head and draws you in for a sloppy kiss. You resist at first, but when he feeds you his tongue, you melt. You kiss him back, letting him draw you closer, and you sigh as he tangles his fingers into your hair and cradles you with those big hands.

There is nothing more to say. Simon neither confirms nor denies, but you taste it in his mouth, his devotion. Not wrong, not right, but just so–he has many responsibilities, but you are the only one that will remain the same. One day, his king will die, and he will serve another, but the space you have made beside him will never change. Even when you die, because he knows you will go before him, there will never be someone else to fill it. You and you only, the woman he found and made his, the one he demanded lest he kill his own country for it, it will always be you. Soft and sweet, you are, but the Lord knew Simon could only have one woman, and he made it be you; the one spitfire enough to defy her own king because she trusted his love enough for it.

Would you commit treason to save his life? Would you watch a king die if it meant your beloved lived?

Would he?

He thinks about what you have said when he takes his fleet across the water. He runs his tongue over his teeth behind his mask, breathing deep when he thinks about your proclamations of duty. Of change. Of what remains when other things move, of the kind of life that waits for him when he comes and goes with a king’s order. He thinks about how easily he is taken away from you, and he knows there is truth in what you feel. It is not really Simon that sacrifices, it is what he leaves behind, and that is you.

It’s never angered him before. He had accepted the fact, as early as your wedding day, that he would leave and come back, then leave again. It has always been the way of his life, come desire or not, so it bothers him that of all the things that surprised him in his life, it would be missing someone that shocked him the most.

Missing his wife. Missing the serene perfection of one woman, and the perfect place between her soft thighs. Every day that he finds himself between them is the best day of his life, he reckons, so now he feels bitter about staring at a freezing ocean amongst his men because he will go weeks without her.

Her. Her. Her.

He is bitter, yes, until he is not.

It comes in a letter from a messenger on horseback. They have been stationed in a foreign land for weeks now, watching slowly as the stone walls of a castle at their front crumples day after day from the stones filled with powder that ignite what is wood and break what is rock. The letter is sealed with wax, with the motif of a snake. It is given directly to Simon, whose name is scribbled in the letter, and when he reads it, he tastes ichor and smoke.

So the great phantom has come to seal my fate. I am not in the business of letting what is mine be taken. Even if you have brought your all, it won’t be taken from me.

I heard you have a beautiful new wife. I heard you paid for her in blood.

I shall do the same. I will hang your sword above our marriage bed.

Ghost is not someone that bends to the threats from foe he cannot look in the eye. Words are so empty. It is nothing like when he stands just a few meters apart from them, eyes fixed against one another, as they decide whether today they want to live or they want to die. The letter means nothing, but he’s surprised by the heat that bubbles under his ribs at the mention of his bride. He meant it when he said you were not meant for war, and that meant in this regard, too–nobody was allowed to talk about you, not like this, not ever.

When his king orders him home, Ghost crumples the note and tosses it into embers. He watches it burn, and then he orders his men to set to flame the ground around the stone walls.

So men like him can be goaded, it seems. His resolve is not as strong as he thought.

The weeks make you anxious. All you do is sit and collect dues and tell the maids which dress you want to wear and which you do not. It is peaceful and boring, and you wish Simon was here to make your days more exciting, but he is not.

His letters are the only things that keep you occupied, truly. He writes to you about war and loneliness, and you write to him about the mundane of domesticity and the ache he leaves behind. Sometimes, his letters come folded with pressed flowers he finds along the way, and you start to collect them, putting them away in small boxes or using them as bookmarks as you go through Simon’s library.

He has many books. His most loved books are those of war, of history, and you smooth your fingers over the pages he has dogeared and find comfort in reading the same words that he once did. You learn, as well. While in your studies as a girl, they made you learn arithmetic and the flowery bits of history and art, here in Simon’s house, you learn of strategy and weaponry and military tactic. Sometimes you disagree, and you write about these disagreements to Simon, and he writes back, pleased with your observations. He told you once that if you were a man, he would want you in that tent with him, beside him, deciding on which formations to take and when to strike. You responded saying that you could be that for him anyway. What did your sex have anything to do with whether you were right or wrong?

Simon agreed.

But I would never invite you here, dear wife. You have to understand that.

When your queen asks for your audience for dinner, you oblige easily; finally, you have something to do rather than add up numbers or sign a document on Simon’s behalf or read another fucking book.

You don’t want to wear all the costume your maids insist on, but you appease them after they repeatedly explain to you what your title means. With a drawn face, you let them tie your corset and layer your skirts, and you watch in the mirror as they braid your hair and drape large, obnoxious jewels over you. You grimace at the tiara they fit into your hair, and your elderly handmaid pinches your cheeks and tells you to put on a fair countenance, Your Grace, lest you make the Duke look ungrateful.

You bite your tongue from snapping at her. She should know that Simon would say nothing about your countenance; all he would do is fix whatever was bothering you until you smiled again.

You arrive early enough to have tea. Your queen is so excited to see you; she gushes when you meet her in the throne room, pulling you up from your curtsy so she can hug you tight, squealing. When you try to address her with a curt “Your Majesty,” she shakes her head, pressing her hands to your cheeks and giggling, “No need for formalities now. Call me Victoria.”

You hide your displeasure with a small smile. Now that you are no longer her lady-in-waiting, she allows you her name. Is it because she sees you more as equals, or because now you’re allowed to be somewhat of friends?

You must be some kind of friend. She sizes you up like you are one. She wears England’s colors this afternoon. A fire red dress adorned with gold accents, a dragon pin holding her shawl. She wears magnificent red and gold jewelry, but she’s looking at your dress, and you can see the slight twitch of her eye. You are wearing French lace, and she doesn’t like it. Or maybe she doesn’t like the color, the accents of navy blue and silver that you wear.

The skull motif that is woven into your tiara and printed on your coat and sewn into your dress. Does it insult her? That all your life, you wore nothing but browns and beiges and grays, were invisible to her, and now you represent your house, visit her as your guest, and bear an honorable name?

You were no one when you served her. Just a girl, no close family, no friends, just a distant uncle who gave you to the crown that hoped you could be of service. That was to be your duty for all your life–to serve the king’s wife until she wanted you no more or until she was gone. To cater to her every need and every wish, no matter the time of day or night.

Now you sit across her, more noble. Refined. Wearing a dress she despises, perhaps because she likes it more than her own.

Over tea, she gossips about the other ladies she has visit. You’ve heard this before, but you’ve never been included in the conversation. She talks to you, and she wants to hear your opinion, and you find yourself uneasy as you try to think of what to say. She is your queen, and you want her to like you. When you worked for her, you earned her favor by always warming up her jewels before she put them on, by making sure she had her tea ready in the morning at her bedside, by always holding the fan she so loved for when she inevitably had a hot flash. Now, as her friend, you weren’t exactly sure what to do. You suck in a soft breath and look at her, and then you purse your lips.

You think it best to agree with her. To be on her side. You might not be her direct servant any longer, but you still must fall under her favor. A queen’s favor can be just as powerful, especially if she occasionally has the ear of her husband.

“Well, that’s not very kind of her,” you say finally, and she laughs.

“No! She’s such a prude. I think her husband doesn’t sleep in her bed enough, if you know what I mean,” she winks at you. You giggle at that. “Speaking of husbands–” She pops another cake in her mouth. “How is yours?”

You reach up and tug at your necklace a bit, smiling nervously.

“Oh, uh…” You clear your throat, “He’s doing very well. I hear his latest campaign is quite the success. His majesty is very smart, heading for the east that way, I’m sure they will be victorious soon enough.”

Victoria smiles at the thought of her husband. His intelligence. She always used to talk to you about how many hours he worked, how she hated when he was away, how she wished he was home more so he could give her a son because she was so, so lonely.

“Wise words from the duchess, aye, my love?”

You jump a bit at the low voice from behind, and when you turn, you gasp, immediately standing and falling into a delicate curtsy. John Price waves his hand, coming further into the room, shaking his head.

“It’s alright,” he tells you. “Please, sit. You’re here as my guest.”

You stand and lift your head, trying to relax. You take a seat, smiling nervously, and Victoria smiles giddily at her husband. When he bends to kiss her cheek, she fawns, reaching for his hand and squeezing it before taking another piece of tart and eating it. John hums before motioning for one of the staff to fill your cup again with tea. He eyes you curiously, taking in your appearance. You sit up at that, performatively brushing off over the skull pattern on your corset. John runs his tongue over his teeth, smoothing a big palm down his wife’s long coils of hair.

“Since you’re here, I’d like a word, if that’s alright,” John says to you. His tone carries a little more authority now, and Victoria sighs, whining a little.

“John, please, she’s my friend. Can’t it wait–”

“That wasn’t a question, Victoria,” John bites. Her face falls a little. She swallows and tucks her hands into her lap. You’re reminded as you look at the slight wobble of her lip that there is no one truly above John Price, not even her. You keep your face neutral, but if you were invisible, you’d pity her.

What a shame her husband sees her as less than. How embarrassing. Your Simon would never. Your Simon waits until you finish speaking before speaking himself. Your husband kneels to take off your shoes, your husband tears your skirts to get a taste of you, your husband used his teeth to sever a man’s throat just to have your hand.

What did John Price do to get his wife? Who did John Price kill to have her hand? How many bruises did he earn around his knees on their wedding night from eating her out? As many as Simon, whose knees were black and blue by morning?

No, you suppose not. How unfortunate. How pathetic.

Victoria picks up her skirt and stands, pasting a big smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes, and you can see the way her hands shake a little as she scurries off. She scowls as soon as she turns away from John, clearly annoyed.

“I’ll go check on dinner,” she says, but it is soft and unenthusiastic.

When she goes, the room falls quiet. At the nod of John’s head, the staff leave, and you keep still in your seat as John sits across from you, picking up one of the cakes in front of him and breaking off a piece to busy himself. He keeps his eyes on his task of cutting up the cake in small pieces, focused on his hands and how they work. You watch him carefully, steeling yourself.

You anticipate a conversation between man and woman, not a king and his lesser.

“Simon’s been away for some time. I bet that’s difficult for you.”

You straighten your posture, realizing what this conversation will be. By his tone, John seems to think you a bored, stupid housewife, perhaps. Uneducated. A woman, no thoughts in her head. You let your face relax, and you fold your hands in your lap. Maybe now is the time John should learn who you are and who you are not.

What you have become and what you no longer are.

“I do just fine, Your Majesty,” you say finally. You pick up a spoon and drop a cube of sugar into your tea, and you stir, picking it up to take a long sip. John is curious by your content. You have a quick tongue. “I could say the same to you, couldn’t I?”

John laughs. He narrows his eyes a bit at your clever response, taking a large bite of the cake and running a cloth over his beard. His eyes sparkle a little.

“So you know.”

“Know what, Your Majesty?”

“You know I gave Simon orders. And you know he didn’t listen to me.”

You purse your lips, but he sees the shine in your eyes. The lack of surprise. His face twitches a bit, and you shake your head. You blink slow, and it irks him to see you so calm. He is your king, and Simon answers to him, and you are his wife, so you must answer, too.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I could have your husband’s head cut off for treason for that, you’re aware, aren’t you?”

You tilt your head to the side. What an odd thing for John to say. What an odd thing for John to contemplate, since it would never come to pass. “Don’t be daft, my king. You wouldn’t want to do that.”

John slams his fist on the table, making the plates and cups rattle with his frustration, but you do not even flinch. You blink, stone-faced, and it makes his nostrils flare. He recognizes that glare, he knows it well. He has seen it before, stared it down many times in rooms just like this. Only now, he is not fighting for land, he fights for control of the one man that he has always been able to rely on. Simon has followed him into battles outnumbered by a thousand men, and only now he ignores an order? Only now he chooses something different?

“Now, let’s be civil, Your Majesty,” you say softly. You smile at him, leaning your head in your hand. “Is there something that you need from me? I have a feeling you might have encouraged this dinner just so you could see me in passing, so why don’t you just ask me what you wanted to ask me?”

John lets out a deep breath, leaning his elbows on the table, lowering his voice. He leans towards you, and you admire how blue his eyes are. John is quite a handsome king, but he does not captivate you. It has been a long time since John has tasted blood, and he lacks the edge that you crave dearly.

“I need him back here, is what I need,” John murmurs.

“My king, I couldn’t get him back here any more than you could, even if I wanted to.”

“Now who’s being daft?”

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. John is not a stupid man. He created a beast of a man, and he is trying not to poke it too hard. You shift, brushing down your skirts, and you let out a low breath.

“Why did he refuse?” You ask finally.

“What?”

“Why does he ignore your order to come back?” You ask again. “I can’t think of a lot of reasons why he would stay. So why did he ignore you?”

John clicks his tongue, smoothing a few of his fingers over his beard. He averts his eyes, looking out the tall windows, frowning a little at the grim weather. The weather is always grim here, but it irks him at the moment, makes him scowl a little harder.

“I was…informed that there was some sort of letter,” John explains. “Some threat.”

“I don’t follow. He gets lots of threats. And terrible letters.”

“Was about you this time, Your Grace.”

You close your eyes at that, shaking your head. Simon would never be so foolish as to be baited by baseless threats. He barely bats an eye when someone even in front of him draws his sword. He is so comforted by his ability to win, by his dreams and his visions that have not yet happened.

“That’s absurd,” you breathe. “Simon wouldn’t…”

John chuckles, but there is no humor there. “Wouldn’t he?”

“I still don’t understand what you expect me to do,” you roll your eyes, looking away. “Simon is…he’s not…he doesn’t listen. It’s why he’s good at this, isn’t it? He doesn’t really take orders, he’s…I…”

John has never complained before about the way Simon chooses to lead. Oftentimes, it is an order ignored that has made it so that he delivered another crown at John’s feet. Simon asks for forgiveness, not permission, and John has barely batted at eye at it. He sees Simon as some kind of distant son, but this refusal bothers him so?

John leans forward. “You need to understand something here, Simon is a rabid dog,” he spits. “And sometimes I let him off his lead, but this isn’t like anything I’ve had to deal with. I need you to call him back here.” He scoots closer. “England needs you to call him back here. To me.”

You narrow your eyes a little. England needs you to call him back? What kind of sick sense of patriotism is he trying to instill in you? John is stupider than he looks, to think a woman like you would show loyalty to country. You are loyal to your husband, and nothing else, because what has king and country ever really done for a woman like you except for dispose of you?

You wear Simon’s colors, not John’s, and you will wear them to your deathbed.

“If I do this for you, my king, then you owe me,” you whisper. He laughs again, no humor, and he picks up a goblet and fills it to the brim with wine. He drinks half before slamming it down onto the table, spilling it over his hand.

“Kings do not owe their subjects.”

“Quite right, Your Majesty,” you agree, picking up your napkin and dropping it onto the table. You stand, giving him a polite curtsy. “But I am not doing this as your subject.”

“Everything you do is as my subject.”

“You put your entire right to the throne on the back of one man,” you say softly. You are not accusing him, you’re reminding him of a truth. “Simon is why…he’s why your counsel still listens to you. He’s why your people are free from famine, why…why your taxes get paid on time, why your kingdom is still standing, no thanks to your father who wasted this place’s fortune on women and liquor.” You shake your head. “You have an eye for conquest, Your Majesty, but you lack the execution of any plan you conjure.”

You are not wrong, and John knows this, and it’s why he hasn’t spoken up yet or interrupted you. The man before, his own father, was a drunkard who spent all their money. He drank himself into the grave, and the only reason John stands before you now is because of Simon. A man who he fought beside, who he commanded, who once John’s duty became reality took up the mantle and finished what his father never could.

John would be in the next history book you read because of Simon, and it’s Simon’s name that will never be written. They do not bestow legacy to men who serve other men.

“Where…Where did you learn to speak to men this way?” John scoffs. “I am your king.”

You must have hit a soft spot. John is defensive now, and men only deflect and insult when they are cornered with the truth. They don’t like being held in front of a mirror.

“You are king because my husband made it so,” you correct him gently. “And Simon is a loyal dog, and that is good for your sake, because if he had any desire for your seat, it would be his.” You come closer, your heels sounding, and John glares down at you; but you glare right back because you are protected by your name and what you can do with it. John knows this, and it angers him, but he seems to have difficulty facing the truths of his own making. “But he is not your dog anymore. He’s mine.”

Your pen on paper is aggressive. You can tell because the splotches of ink are deep, bleeding black sinking into white as you put angry word to parchment. Not even a fortnight later, you are playing cards with Victoria, and you see Simon’s silhouette standing in the doorway, hood shadowing his masked face as he observes. When you look over your shoulder where John sits, and you meet his eyes, he looks away from you with a grim understanding.

Simon answers your call. Always.

At dinner, John is in better spirits. He drinks with a big smile, eats more than one plate, and he picks Victoria up by the waist to make her dance with him when he asks for the music to be played louder. Simon sits, fidgety, gloved hands moving in and out of fists as he watches you cut into your food and eat it with a blank face. He huffs beside you, his armor stiffening as he sits up straight, and you let your fork clatter onto your plate as you turn to glare at him.

“You were thinking with your cock, Simon,” you spit. “That is how men like you get killed.”

“You ‘ave no idea how men like me get killed because there are no men like me,” Simon growls. You roll your eyes, standing, and he grips your wrist angrily, tugging you close until you fall into his lap. You sigh, shaking your head, putting your hands on his broad shoulders and making him look at you.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But I’m not wrong. It is how you’ll lose. You know better than that, Simon. To fight someone because they taunted you in a letter, it’s playing the fool.” You cup his cheeks, keeping his eyes on yours. “You don’t need me to tell you that, and yet here we are.”

He breathes slow, closing his eyes for just a moment. He thinks he came for this, just a little. For clarity. Reason. It comes from you in waves, and it’s comforting to hear. It is something he knew, and yet it only makes sense now that you have said it.

“I know,” Simon mutters. “I know. Y’r right. I’m sorry, luv.”

You ask him to apologize when he undresses you. You ask him to apologize again when he sinks into a hot bath with you. You ask him a third time when he is in your bed, a heavy weight between your thighs as he licks and sucks at the soft skin of your tummy. He begs, lowly, let me ‘ave it, and you will, but he has to say he’s sorry again.

“‘m sorry,” he breathes, sucking on your inner thigh, and you close your thighs around his head, forcing his mouth against your cunt.

“Again, Simon,” you whisper. “I wanna hear it again.”

“‘m sorry,” he slides a rough tongue between your folds, breathing shakily when he tastes the oil that he smoothed over your skin only moments ago. You taste so good, you smell so lovely, coming off of you like fumes blinding his senses so that nothing else but you makes any sense at all. When you open your eyes, you think about where you are, and you nearly come thinking about what you have wrapped around your finger.

Not even your king tells your husband what to do. Not even your king commands his men, they won’t listen, he’s not who they turn to when things go belly-up, it’s your husband, and your husband answers to you.

You weren’t sure about it until today. Seeing him when you asked him to come, it flooded you with something that hurt. You could tell from even so far away that Simon was salivating under that mask. You knew the only thing separating his mouth from your cunt were the other people around him (and they were not privy to seeing you naked).

It is such a thing to observe. John needed a lead on Simon when he was his dog. You need no such mechanism. Simon never strays, not with you. He sits proper when you ask, and he speaks when spoken to. He tears at unwanted flesh, and he comes when you call.

John cannot give him all that he desires. Perhaps he thought what Simon truly wanted was fame and fortune. Legacy. But like most things men do, John does not observe. He takes in only what is right in front of him, and he makes assumptions. Simon is not like other men. Fame and fortune do not matter. He does not care about legacy. What matters to Simon is what he can hold in his hands. The ground under his feet. The steel in his hand. The woman underneath him, spreading her legs, inviting him in.

You love Simon. You love Simon more than anything in the entire world, but it would be a lie to say that you are not at some advantage here. Simon is all-consuming. He is the pinnacle of duty and honor and everything that a man is supposed to be, but Simon is also weak. There is something that he wanted more than anything in the world, and now that he has it, he will do anything to keep it, and that makes him vulnerable. Subject to all kinds of new things. Revenge. Retaliation. Pain.

Manipulation.

Maybe you should feel bad about it. Maybe you should feel guilty, but it’s hard to feel anything like it when there’s a big bear of a man between your thighs slobbering on your pussy like dessert. It’s hard to feel anything but bliss when he’s tracing the letters of his name into your cunt and making you see stars and fucking you into the silk sheets like it’s the last time he’ll ever have you.

It is men who govern your world, and if this is how you must move in it, then so be it. You will not feel bad. You will not be sorry for doing what anyone else would do. John thought he could keep his hand there, muzzle his mutt, but you like him this way, and you’re certain John doesn’t fuck the way you do.

He’s mine.

It isn’t John that commands an army, it’s you; or maybe your cunt, but that belongs to you, too, so it is you, isn’t it? You’re the one that lets him inside, that whispers in his ear, that tells him things you know he wants to hear to make things move in your favor, so it’s you, right?

Not John. Not Victoria. Not their counsel. You. They have stepped on you your entire life. They have made you small and inferior and sad for all of your existence, and they gave you something feral knowing it could eat you alive, and now you are the hand that feeds, and they are forgetting that if they bite too hard, you have something that will surely bite harder.

A collar would suit him, you think. He would look so pretty. He already is, the terrible beast, prettiest thing you’ve ever seen (the necklace your drape over him does just fine, a pendant with his motif that you hope reminds him of you). You don’t care if people would say his face is quite ugly. It is, very much so, but you never see him this way. Whenever that mask falls, your stomach flips. He takes your breath away. His intensity, his raw form of love, the look on his face–there is nothing else in the entire world that will love you the way he loves you.

“You came back for me?” You ask. You have a leg tangled between his, and his fingers are between your thighs, a shadow of a smirk on his face as he feels the mixture of your cum and his. He grunts a little, and you tilt your head to look up at him, your chin on his chest.

“‘f course,” Simon mutters, and you kiss his chest gently, keeping your eyes on his.

“But not for John.”

He turns his head, looking down at you more intently, and he scoffs. You know it’s true, but you want to hear it, anyways. You want to hear Simon admit, unknowingly, that you are the tether.

“John is afraid, and I don’t listen to ‘im when he’s afraid. Makes bad choices.”

It’s almost adorable that this is what Simon tells himself. That he comes back for his own sake, and not for yours, even though they are one and the same, intertwined and inseparable.

“Simon,” you say softly, and he sighs, his eyes closing briefly when you kiss him gently. “You have to listen to your king when he asks you to come back. Making a…rash decision about war strategy is one thing, but…” You cup his cheek gently. “Make things easier for me, husband. If he asks you to come back, you come back.”

This time, at least. Just this time.

Simon snarls a bit, but you swallow it when you kiss him. You maneuver yourself over him, straddling his hips, and he grunts as you sink down on him. He swells hard again very quickly, releasing a deep breath as you give a slow roll of your hips.

“Make things easy for me, my love,” you whisper, and he leans his head back, putting two big hands on your ass and moving you with ease. “Appease your king, yes? For me?”

“Can’t say no when y’r pussy squeezes me like tha’, sweet’eart,” Simon groans, and you giggle, planting your hands on his chest and starting to move a little faster. You lean your head back, your mouth falling open, and you gasp when you sink down completely, your ass touching his thick thighs as you tighten around him. “Fuckin’ Christ–”

“I hate when you go,” you whine, digging your nails into his chest. He hisses, planting his feet on the bed, and he fucks up into you with a renewed fervor. “Hate when you’re not here, Simon, I-I miss you, miss this–”

“Nghh…fuck, I know,” Simon pants. “Can feel it. Feel you.” You squeal when he grips you by the waist and turns you over. He makes it seem so easy, tossing your weight underneath him, and your arms circle around his neck as you draw him closer, hanging onto him. “Y’r so fuckin’ pretty…”

“Simon–”

He kisses to devour. His jaw hinges wide to kiss you sloppy, breathing in the moans that you can’t contain. Simon always fucks so well, stretching your thighs as wide as they will accommodate so he can make room for the goliath of himself that he is. He suffocates, in a good way, and his cock never fails to stretch you for all that you are worth. Simon holds your jaw in place as he grinds into you, relishing in the wet smack of his hips against yours. The fat of you satisfies him. It makes him growl with delight when he grabs onto wide hips, your fat arse, the body that you hold that tells him you are fed and warm and content. It draws his grin wider, and it makes him drool thinking about having you again and again and again, until you beg him for reprieve and his heir sits in your womb.

Simon fucks for sport. He wants to see how stupid he can make you. He wants to know how long you’ll cry for, how fat he can make your tears. He wants to know how loud you will cry, how many times he can make you cum before you’re incoherent, he wants to know the extent to which he can use you that you will still be awake enough to say his name just one more time. Simon is not satisfied until he pushes your limits.

It is what a Riley does. They endure, and they eat, and they consume, and they take pleasure in the all-encompassing indulgement of things they have never been allowed to have. You are a woman, so he knows this will come easy for you. So often, he knows, women are not allowed to indulge at all, so he wants you to. He wants you to cry and moan and eat, and he wants you to do it bearing his name so that no one will ever tell you no.

Simon says no to kings, and they placate, or they die. His wife will be offered the same respect, and he’ll stand behind her with a sword to make it law. When you bear his children, he will expect the same of them–to give their mother utter devotion, lest they answer to his hand. There is no one above you, not God, not country, and certainly not blood. They will know what their father did to have you, and they will spill the same amount of blood to keep it that way. They will do it for you, and then they will do it for their own lovers, and if they don’t have the same sentiments, that love is not true, and Simon will not give his blessing.

Everything else is trivial. He knows this, understands it, because history repeats itself. It is cyclical, and you are right. Kings come and go. Sons die to other sons, fathers make bad decisions, and crowns are passed to bastards and back again, until lineage is merely spectacle and power changes hands often enough to lose generational merit. There is one thing that remains, and it is what you do while you are on earth, while you are standing on the ground you were born on. Even faiths change; when men find it suitable, they change the rules, and then you worship a different God, so Simon sees no point in staying loyal to any of it.

Instead, he is true to what he knows. To what he can see and what he can feel. With John, he remembers being a young man, fighting alongside him. He follows John, to an extent, because he knows what it is like to share blood with him on a muddy hill and take an arrow for him.

With you, time stands still. He saw you in a room, and he had to have you, and he brought nations to ruin to make certain no one would bat an eye when he asked for your hand. He saw you in a dream, too–he saw you laying in his bed of furs, wearing nothing but a tiara of his making, wet between the thighs because that is how it’s meant to be. He recognized you when he saw you that first time, and he doesn’t know how, but saying no to you, really saying no, will change that vision, and he couldn’t bear that.

Your voice echoes. You’re moaning, overstimulated, but he doesn’t stop. The hair around his cock rubs your clit too many times, and when you come around him, you’re a shaking, withering thing, back bowed and nipples pebbled. Your toes curl as you cry from the starry-eyed, hot pleasure, but he keeps moving, chasing something in the distance that he can taste, so close.

Yes, Simon ignored his king. Yes, Simon did not ignore you. Yes, Simon admits, he came when you called, and he doesn’t feel bad about it, he doesn’t care how it seems. He would do it again if he had the chance. John could give him the same answer as you in every timeline, but he will only move if the command comes from you, and yes, Simon knows it makes him a liability, but crowns come with costs, and this is the one John must pay.

Simon will fight any of John’s enemies, but he won’t fight fate. He won’t fight what has already been seen, and he won’t fight what he already knows will happen.

With Simon’s cock in your mouth, you can make him deliver on promises. Sucking on the girth of him, you can make him an honest man. Taking inside of your mouth what you can swallow, you can make Simon do your bidding, and it is a hard lesson that John learns.

“Do this for me,” you slobber against the underside of his cock, and Simon relents.

“Make me happy,” you say, swirling your fingers against your puffy pussy, and Simon kneels with an open mouth.

“Just this once,” you whisper with his cum on your tongue, and Simon seals his choice with his hands on your tits and the taste of himself in his mouth.

When you make eyes with John across the low lights of the throne room, he can’t help the way he admires you. You stand beside Simon, looking the essence of nobility and reverence in another intricate silver and blue dress. The train of your skirt glitters with delicate jewels hand sewn into the fabric, and the headpiece you wear adorns a skull insignia. Your corset has been tied just right, thanks to Simon’s hand, and your own fingers are clasped between his. Your corset and jewels are of exquisite detail–one of the newest designs from Paris, structured and elegant and accentuating every curve of soft skin.

You glow in the room. His wife must be wearing a dress just as expensive, probably more, and yet his eyes (and everyone else’s) cannot help but follow you. Your own eyes won’t leave Simon; you flutter your lashes whenever he looks down at you, big smile on your face, and even when there are people curtsying and bowing to you and giving Simon their gratitude between bites of cake and glugs of wine, your attention never really strays.

John feels inadequate in his own fortress; suddenly, red and gold sicken him, and England tastes sour in his mouth.

In a few generations, John’s house will likely fall. He will make heirs that will fail him, he knows this. In a few centuries, his family will not sit in the same place, but a Riley will remain right where they are supposed to be. Banners of blue and silver will always fly. If Simon does not make sure of that, then you will.

It’s what happens when you force women like you to their knees. When they grow up invisible, always in the shadows, forgotten and sold to the next man who will pay a higher price, it’s what you learned to do. It’s all you’ve ever known, to make the best out of something terrible.

Simon is the same, in that sense. You understand him in a way his king will never be able to. Simon has nothing, and neither do you, and Simon was stepped on and berated and tortured to the point of no return. It is why blood does not scare him and why death doesn’t come knocking. Time will be the only thing capable of killing him, and everyone that stands up to him learns that when they eat his blade.

In the quiet of the evening, Simon undresses you. He sits behind you on the bed, fingers pinching the bows at your back and unraveling them. He traces your corset, thumb circling over the skull pattern of the belt around the small of your waist, and he tastes something warm in his mouth at the sight of it. You look so beautiful–more beautiful than he’s ever seen you maybe, decorated in his colors and wearing his motif and sitting so pretty.

“You wanna know something…funny?” You ask quietly. Simon finds the ties of your skirts and starts to undo them. He grunts in reply; he might sound standoffish, but you know he’s listening. “John…John made it…he makes it seem like you don’t really listen to him. He implied that…in the face of adversity, you might only listen to me.” You put your hands on the front of your corset to keep it from falling. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Wot’s so funny?”

You swallow, looking down. Your hands fidget, and you take a closer look at the ring you wear, the delicate gold band he gave you not so long ago.

“I…”

“Mmm…might be right, innit?” Simon snickers after a moment. You feel him stand, and you look over your shoulder as he peels his mask off and grins down at you. He tilts his head to the side, and you smile back at him a little. “Do anythin’ for ya. Disobeying a king…” Simon cackles, tearing your corset off, tossing it onto the floor as he walks you backwards. “Ignoring one…” He shrugs, “Oll in a day, love.”

“He can hang you for it,” you whisper. “Cut off your head. Cut off mine.”

Simon lays you back on the bed, spreading you out, climbing over you. You blink up at him, and he leans down, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I would ‘ave seen it. I would know.”

He would have seen it in a dream. It would have come to him in a reflection in a pool of blood on the battlefield. It would have come to him, the voices in his head, he would have heard them amongst screaming, or perhaps in the void that he finds his mind in when he’s between your plush thighs.

You can’t help the smile that graces your face when Simon kisses the curve where your jaw meets your neck. It is fun, you suppose. Fun to control the tides that set the courses of history. It is fun and almost unbelievable that a king bends to the will of one man’s wife just because it solidifies his name.

You wrap your hand around the twine that dangles from Simon’s neck. It twirls around your fingers, easy, solid. Simon’s eyes are dark, and they are yours, and when you smile, so does he, because this is where you are meant to be, forever and always.

“What if I want more?” You ask. Simon hums, low from within his chest, and you run your tongue over your teeth. “Did you see that in your dreams, Simon? Hmm? Do you know what I’m asking for? What it is that I really want?”

Simon smiles. A dark one, with teeth, and you know he hears it. What more means for a duke and his duchess. What more means when you have all the money you could ever want, all the land you could ever need.

What more means when you have climbed your way to the top and still desire more. More, more, more. There are not many steps left to climb. There are not many places left to take, not much more of the world that can really be yours, but Simon looks ravenous, and Simon looks hungry, and if you fuck him now, you’ll have him right where you want him.

When you tug on what hangs around his neck, Simon bends. Simon follows.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon

4K notes · View notes

kitimeq · 2 months ago

Text

surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦

pairing: sylus x reader

summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe kind of try to kidnap you in the process too oho).

tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry. (7k!!)

warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me of guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating behavior. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably either a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like some kind of a delusional psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

”Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these familiar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself being suddenly lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing, but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red ones, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. ”You will have all the time in the world to touch me when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood motionless before you, his face devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his watchful eyes. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really thought it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” You smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—“

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—“

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

”I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—“

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 Zone that would pose an actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

2K notes · View notes

berryhobii · 9 months ago

Text

Baby Mama Drama(jjk x reader)

Pairing: BabyDaddy!Jeon Jungkook x BabyMama!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.2K+

Warnings: reader and Jungkook coparent, they have a daughter who is mentioned but doesn’t appear in the story, reader and Jungkook technically aren’t together but they still love each other and fool around🥴, reader irritates the hell out of JK but he can’t stay mad at them, reader is definitely a little toxic, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), oral(m and f receiving), 69 position, the sloppiest of top, face riding, fingering, reverse cowgirl, reader rides like a pro, missionary, reader has a tattoo🤭, reader is also dragging that wagon, reader also also has that certified WAP, reader is flexible, squirting, unprotected s*x(don’t do this and then turn into this couple), creampie, dirty talk, one face slap, multiple ass slaps like seriously JK is obsessed with reader’s badonk a donk, a little degradation and a dash of dumbification

A/N: I’M BACK EVERYONE!🥳for anyone who didn’t read my last post, my tumblr was suspended for a little while so that’s why I wasn’t posting. Anyway, it’s over so I’m back to work. This is a piece inspired by @joonberriess and their Sleazy!JK storyline. Shoutout to them. I love everything about the way they write JK and reader so definitely check them out if you haven’t already! Their stories make me want a sleazy baby daddy who can’t leave me the hell alone but I know I’ll never be able to handle that in real life so fictional is good enough for me!🤣this fic is just kind of a reverse of theirs where I made reader a sleazy and jealous baby mama. I know this kind of behavior is a stereotype among the black community but I am in no way condoning it. It’s just fiction and meant to be entertaining. Anyway, please let me know what you guys think as I am always open to criticism and please look forward to my upcoming posts! Much love and thanks for reading 🤎🤎🤎

“So, do you have any kids?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, one. A daughter. You?”

“Two. Their father is an absolute nightmare though. Thank goodness we have a court order. I can’t even be in the same room as him without wanting to pull all my hair out.” She bitterly laughed with a shake off her head, tossing the rest of her drink back. “What about you? Is your child’s mother a monster?”

Jungkook titled his head, a strained chuckle leaving him. “Um, well she’s…..something.”

The woman hummed. “I get it. A real bitch, huh? I hate women like that. Ones who can’t let their baby daddy’s go and are somehow always around. So annoying. Like don’t you have something better to do?”

“Yeah and I do it 4 times a week in my Queen sized bed.”

Jungkook stiffened at the sound of that familiar voice. There was only one person he knew that spoke that crassly to strangers.

The scent of your perfume and the smell of the mousse you used on your braids invaded his space and solidified that shit was about to go downhill.

The woman, who’s name he don’t think he ever caught, made a noise of surprise once you appeared before her. Your body stood right between her and Jungkook, forcing her to step back a little. Arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked out to the side, your eyes roamed up and down this woman’s body in a scrutinizing manner.

“And who are you?”

Leaning back a little, you plopped yourself right on Jungkook’s lap.

Looking her up and down once more, you answered simply with a big smile, “I’m unimpressed. Nice to meet you.”

Ignoring you for a moment, the woman looked around you to make eye contact with Jungkook who was shooting her a look that screamed, “please walk away!” She didn’t really understand what was going on. Who were you and why did you walk into their conversation on 10 like that? It was one thing to interrupt a conversation but to be that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know? That didn’t go down well in her book.

Copying your previous stance, the woman replied, “Well I’m unimpressed with your attitude. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

“No but she taught me to how to wrap a bitch’s hair around my wrist and keep swinging until my arm gets tired.” Your smile was sugary sweet but your words cut deep like knives. The woman was stunned. No one has ever spoken to her this way and it was a rude awakening. She didn’t even know how to respond.

Not wanting to see you demonstrate your mother’s teachings, Jungkook quickly stood to his feet. “Well, we should really be going. It was nice meeting you. Let’s go.” He grabbed your arms to start pushing you away from the woman.

“No it wasn’t!” You called out, both of you leaving the shocked woman by herself.

Once you two had made it outside, Jungkook’s frustration boiled over.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why is it everytime I meet someone, you show up and scare them off? We aren’t together anymore. Is it not getting through your head? Like what the hell-“

His rant was flying right over your head because all you could focus on was how unbelievably sexy he looked today. How dare he walk outside like that? And he was going to waste all of that on some random stranger in a bar? Yeah right. Not as long as you had a say about it.

Your greedy eyes trailed from the top of his head to those bulging veins in his neck and down to his soft cock that was pressing against his jeans. Whew, just imaging that monster had your panties sticking to you. It was so big and warm and when he was giving you back shots…..

“Are you listening to me?”

You blinked a few times, your eyes slowing raising until they met the searing glare of your baby daddy.

“Uh yeah. Something about airline prices. So what are you doing tonight?”

Jungkook couldn’t fucking believe you. God you pissed him off to no end but he always had a way of letting off some steam.

“Let’s go. Now.”

“Yes sir.” You purred with that mischievous glint in your eye. Jungkook’s own eye twitched at the implications behind your tone but he decided to ignore it in favor of turning around to begin walking to his car, you hot on his heels and a Cheshire like grin on your face because you were getting what you wanted.

The drive back to his place was quiet, as was the ride up the elevator and the living room as he moved to sit down. He didn’t even raise his eyes to look at you once since you got in the car. Although you could see right through his petty act.

Flopping down on the couch next to him, your head leaning against your hand, you said, “come on, baby. You’re not still mad at me, are you? I said I’m sorry.”

No answer.

Moving closer to him, your hand trailed over his chest and up to his face to turn his head to face you, lips just centimeters apart. This wouldn’t be the first time you were on the receiving end of his heated glare and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

“What do I have to say for you to forgive me? I hate when you’re mad at me, baby.”

“Then stop doing shit that pisses me off and I won’t be.” He fired back, that low tone of his sending shocks down your spine.

“I’m sorry. Now let me make it up to you.” He could pick up on that sultry voice anywhere and those bedroom eyes you were currently shooting him was a dead giveaway as well.

He rolled his eyes. “You need to stop expecting dick everytime you come over here. It’s not gonna fix anything.”

Gasping dramatically, you moved back a little to hold a hand to your chest in faux offense. “You wound me, tater tot. I came here with pure intentions to apologize to you. Can a woman not apologize to her baby daddy without him thinking she has an ulterior motive?”

An unimpressed look crossed Jungkook’s face from your dramatics and from that stupid pet name you gave him all those years ago.

“Whatever.” He mumbled. “Fine. I accept your apology. Just don’t do it again.” A warning that fell on deaf ears because yeah, you’d definitely do it again if needed but for now, you’d bask in his forgiveness.

“Thank you, baby. You know I only want to make you happy.”

“You do,” he whispered, those doe eyes lifting to connect with yours.

Your lips met, your hands pushing Jungkook back against the arm of the couch to climb into his lap. He went willingly, melting into your touch and the feeling of your plump lips. His own hands traveled up your thighs to squeeze at the plushness of your ass, his grip forcing your covered cunt to rub against his growing erection.

His grunts mixed with your low hum of pleasure as you grinded against one another but Jungkook could only tolerate about a minute of that before he started getting impatient.

Groaning against your lips, he struggled out a, “fuck. Sit it on already.”

The sounds of your giggles made him pause, eyes cracking open and his eyebrow raising because what the hell was so funny?

“Oh nothing.” You said as if reading his mind. “I just remember a very certain someone saying not to expect dick everytime I come here yet that same person is telling me to sit on his dick. How the tables have turned.”

Rolling his eyes yet again, Jungkook suddenly heaved himself up, forcing you backwards. Your giggles increased, the contagion of your amusement finally breaking him and stretching a full blown smile across his face.

“You’re so goofy.”

“Then do something about it, Mickey.”

In a show of strength that turned your panties from a pool into a water park, Jungkook heaved you over his shoulder, hand coming down on the fat of your ass.

“I’ll do something about it alright.”

Once you made it to the bedroom, Jungkook tossed you down onto the bed and was about to climb on top of you but you were a little quicker. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him down until he was flat on his back with you straddling his waist—his hard cock pressed right against your clothed cunt, just waiting to be released.

Leaning down, you captured him in another kiss while he captured your ass in his grip.

“Damn I love this ass….” He murmured into your lip lock which made you giggle.

After deeming him throughly kissed, you sat up to take in his flushed face and reddened lips. Perfect.

“Forgive me yet?”

He hummed, fingers playing with the hem of your top. “Maybe after you take this off.”

Ever so compliant, you gripped both sides of your shirt and pulled it over your head to reveal your bare breasts to Jungkook. His eyes could have popped out of his head, the groan he let out a mixture of arousal and slight irritation.

“You’re not wearing a bra?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you simply answered, “I knew I was coming here. What’s the point? Do you want to know if I’m wearing underwear?” That cheeky smile answered the question for him and it only sunk him further into the already unhealthy infatuation he had with you.

Gripping your ass, he roughly grinded your cunt down on his erection. The friction made both of you gasp, the air starting to feel electric as desperation began eating at both of you.

It didn’t take long for both of you to undress each other. Jungkook helped you wiggle out of those tiny shorts you wore, letting out a curse as a little drip of sticky arousal snapped back against your inner thigh. Sitting up, he grabbed the back of his shirt to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere in the room. Now you could feast your eyes on the hard planes of his body and trace your fingers those intricate tattoos that marked up his skin.

Leaning down once again, you trailed kisses from that sweet spot on his neck, down his chest and over his abs until you reached your destination. Your eyes never left his as you began your descent, hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans to pull them down and Jungkook helped kick them off. You licked your lips at the sight of Jungkook’s hard cock slapping against his abs once you freed it from the confines of his pants . He could see that hungry look in your eye, smirking as he took hold of his erection and began lightly pumping it; a motion that drove you fucking crazy was watching him stroke himself. It just did something to you.

“You want it, bug?” He teased to which you nodded frantically.

“Yes, baby. Give it to me.” Opening your mouth, you held your tongue out to lick at it, Jungkook hissing at the contact. He slapped it against your wet muscle a few times before letting the tip slip in your mouth. You immediately wrapped your lips around it, suckling at it like a desperate whore. Which you were but only for him. No one else could make you act like this.

You replaced his hand with your own, licking and spitting all over his cock to lubricate it. Taking him down your throat, you began bobbing your head up and down, making sure to twist your wrist just the way he liked it.

Jungkook let out a series of low moans, curses, and the tiniest of whines everytime you went down. One hand gripped at the ponytail you put your braids up in and one hand behind his head, he let you take the lead. You knew just how he liked it, just the way to flick your wrist and tighten your throat to throw him over the edge in minutes.

Coming off him with a wet cough, you continued to stroke his cock, your spit soaking your own hand but that only helped the glide. Your hazy and hungry eyes stared right into his, your chin and mouth soaked in saliva. “I love this cock so fucking much.” You gasped before taking it back down your throat and bobbing your head.

Tossing his head back, Jungkook let out a strangled moan, forcing your head down. You let him, of course, relaxing your throat so he could fuck up into your mouth.

“Come sit on my face, baby. Right fucking now.” He demanded.

Pulling off him a little, you maneuvered your body until your pussy was right over his face—69 style. He gripped both of your ass cheeks in his palms, pulling you down until he could suck your neglected clit into his mouth.

You let out a sharp gasp around his cock, finally getting some type of relief. Sucking his cock made you a different type of horny and he could see that with the way your cunt was dripping.

His mouth and tongue started going crazy, ravenous as he alternated between sucking and licking, making sure to dip his tongue in your opening every once in a while. His hands continued to slap and grip at your ass, one wandering sometimes to pull your slippery lips apart so he could really get in there.

His hand trailed down from your ass to your tight opening, squeezing a finger into your spasming walls. He located that sweet spot with practiced ease, slipping in another finger in beside it and stretching your snug cunt open. The squelching of your walls was like music to his ears, adding to the salacious ‘gluck gluck’ noises your throat was making as you swallowed his cock.

Since you were horny on your way here, it didn’t take long for that feeling to start burning hot in your belly.

You pulled off his cock but continued to stroke him, your cheek resting against his thigh as high pitched moans left your lips.

Jungkook flattened his tongue, his grip on your ass guiding you to rut against his face. The fat of your ass almost suffocated him but Jungkook couldn’t imagine going out any other way. He hooked his fingers right into your gspot, your eyes rolling back and head hanging low as you used him for your pleasure.

“Oh yes! Oh yes, daddy! You’re gonna make me cum!” Lifting your head, you took his cock back into your mouth, burying it all the way to the hilt in your throat. Jungkook’s hips jumped, him groaning against your clit, the vibrations sending shocks right through you.

A few swallows around his cock and a few more jabs to that spot inside of you and both of you were cumming. Your body tensed, hips rutting faster against his face to ride it out. He thrusted his hips up once, twice, three times before letting out a drawn out moan as he pumped his release down your waiting throat. Your body shivered as buzzing pleasure raced down your back and to your toes. You don’t think you’ve had an orgasm like that since…….three days ago when Jungkook ate you out in his car after he had to pick you up because you forgot to get gas.

Amazing car head aside, the party wasn’t over yet.

“Sit on it, bug. Hurry.” Jungkook rushed you, tapping your ass a few times, his breath labored and tone dripping with desperation.

Good thing you were just as eager because you crawled forward on your weak knees until he was lined up with your entrance. Reaching between your legs, you held his wet cock steady as you slid down on it. Jungkook’s hands held your ass cheeks apart to watch, eyes blurring slightly as your hot, tight, and gushing walls wrapped around him. You weren’t faring much better, your head knocking back as his thick cock stretched you to your limits. It didn’t matter how many times you had taken his cock, the pure g i r t h always knocked the breath out of you. This is why you couldn’t leave him alone, his cock was just too fucking good. You’d be damned if you ever let someone else take it from you.

Once you were settled to the hilt, your body leaned all the way forward to rest between his legs and you began bouncing your ass on his cock.

Jungkook was mesmerized by how your fat ass rippled and moved against his pelvis. At this moment, he didn’t give a damn how many women you threatened or how much you pissed him off; just the sight of your ass and the feeling of your juicy cunt wrapped around him was enough to make him remember another reason why he couldn’t let you the hell go. He loved your pussy too much. And if that wasn’t enough, the sight of that tiny ‘♡JK’ tatted on your left ass cheek certainly let him know.

Jungkook’s hands came down to slap repeatedly on your bouncing ass. “Faster baby. Fuck, this ass is so good!” The seat of your ass was wet from a combination of spit and cum, the wet slapping noises filling the space. Your moans were in competition with the clapping of your ass, your cheek pressed against the sheets and your nails digging into his calves.

“Ahhh! This cock is so b-big,” you whine, “love it so much…..right there….! Oohhhh-ohhhh fuck!”

Lifting up a little and adjusting your knees to a better position, you began throwing yourself down on his cock, the head brushing against every spot you had and sending you reeling. You’d come all the way up until just the tip was inside before slamming back down, the bed shaking underneath the force. Jungkook’s toes curled, your cunt gripping him tighter than a vice.

He was about 98% sure his soul left his body, eyes rolling and head knocking back against the pillows as his lungs struggled for air.

Not able to hold it anymore, Jungkook was quickly flipping your positions. Now it was your turn to be on your back, your legs spread in a wide V shape, his cologne invading your senses and his lips covering yours. He was everywhere, all over you. Your skin was on fire from his touch, sweat soaking your back and air becoming sparse as he kissed away what little oxygen you had left. You were obsessed with him. He was yours as you were his. Nothing would ever change that.

His cock buried itself back into your walls, a deep moan of pleasure getting caught in your throat once he began jackhammering into you. Your hands gripped the bottom of your feet, keeping them apart so he could continue to plow into your soft spot. His hips moved like a well oiled machine, making noisy contact with your ass with every thrust.

Your mouth dropped open, “oh my…..fffucking g-god…!” Tears welled up in your eyes as blinding pleasure spread over every nerve in your body.

Jungkook grunted, his own pleasure peaking at the sight of your fucked out face.

“Yeah? You about to cum? Are you gonna what the fuck I say and stop acting so fucking jealous? Huh?” Drool dripped down the sides of your mouth as you tried to form sentences but hurried ‘yes yes yes’ were the only words you could manage. “How many times do I have to fuck you before you get that through your thick head? I only want you. Fuck you push my fucking buttons but I know it’s just because you want me to fill up this tight cunt, isn’t that right?” A slap came across your cheek, orgasm crashing into your body without warning from the sudden strike.

Jungkook could feel wetness soaking his pelvis and cock, jaw tightening as he began moving even harder—the headboard knocking into the wall so hard that he doesn’t think he’ll get his security deposit back for this place.

“Juicy fucking cunt squirting all over me. Mhmmmm….I’m gonna fill this pussy up. You want that? Want me to send you home with my cum running down your legs?”

Your ears were ringing, his dirty talk propelling you right into another endless orgasm, your toes curling in the air as blissful overstimulation began to take over.

Jungkook wasn’t far behind, a few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep in your sopping cunt. His cock throbbed inside you, the thickness pressing right into your abused gspot. Your hands released your feet to scramble against his back, sharp acrylics digging into his skin and making him hiss in slight pain.

“Ohhhhhh shittttttt….fuck baby,” He groaned out as he pumped creamy ropes inside your clenching pussy, your spasming walls sucking him in and milking him for everything he was worth.

Both of you collapsed from exhaustion, Jungkook’s face planting itself in your breasts and your legs falling weakly to the bed with a light thump. Only the sounds of your heavy breathing filled the room, both of your hearts beating wildly as you two came down.

“So am I forgiven?” You asked as you two soaked in the tub, the scent of an apple scented bath bomb wafting around the room.

Jungkook was behind you, head leaned back against the wall as he tried not to fall asleep. “I guess so. Just stop doing that, okay? It’s so embarrassing.”

“Deal.”

A beat of silence washed over the room, just the sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub filling the space.

“One more time.” You suddenly said.

“Huh?”

“You asked me how many times do you have to fuck me before I get it through my thick head to stop being jealous. I think one more will do the trick.”

Jungkook let out a chuckle, opening his eyes only to find your beautiful irises staring back at him with that playful and lustful glint.

“You’re impossible.” He scoffed with an endearing shake of his head.

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, I do.”

#bts #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook

2K notes · View notes

sunfairiess · 2 months ago

Text

𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 || 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader

synopsis: sarah cameron meets her boyfriend’s sister for the first time, and understands what being soulmates means.

warnings: cursing, slightly mention of violence

wc: 2.9k

it’s my first time writing a character x reader (and actually writing a ff in years lmao) so i really hope this turned out well! also, i apologize for any typos or grammar errors but english is not my first language <3

song rec: about you - the 1975 ♡

“c’mon guys, time to go back. it’s starting to freeze out here.” pope said, placing his fishing rod by his side before getting up and walking towards the helm of the boat, kiara following him to keep him some company. he was right: the temperature had started to drop, and honestly he didn’t even know why the pogues decided to go fishing at the end of november.

they were all there, except for the pogue princess as they liked to call her. she was john b’s younger sister, just by one year; and even though she was definitely a pogue down to her core, she actually almost looked like a kook: she was always composed, never drank too much, never even touched a cigarette or a joint, and she worked her ass off every afternoon at the country club to help john b with the bills and to afford a few of the things she liked.

she was smart, kind, the type of girl to lighten up a room with the sound of her laughter. she was also one of the reasons why the ‘no pogue-on-pogue macking‘ rule was made: everyone kind of had a thing for her, and jj maybank was the first in line.

“i seriously regret coming, i think i’m going into hypothermia.” jj said, shuddering a little bit. yes, it was cold, but it wasn’t that cold. jj just liked to be dramatic.

“gosh, you’re such a pussy.” john b laughed, smacking his best friend behind the head. they’ve know each other for more than ten years now. they weren’t friends anymore, they were brothers. they loved and cared for each other very deeply, even if they were acting like jerks most of the time.

as pope started the engine of the hms pogue, ready to go back to the château, john b took his sweatshirt off to pass it to sarah, his new girlfriend. she was a kook, but she was different. she didn’t care about how dissimilar their lives were, she loved spending time with the pogues because they were real. they were amazing friends, they were funny and smart, and the kind of people you could have a serious conversation with. they weren’t superficial like the kooks, and she loved them for this.

she felt a little tap on her leg, catching with her vision her boyfriend’s sweater. she gave john b a smile and slid the blue piece of clothing on. “so, i’m meeting your sister for the first time today, uh. big step.” sarah joked, slightly pushing his arm.

since the first moment they started dating, john b had always talked about how he wanted her to meet his sister. she was the most important person in his life, especially after his dad went missing at sea during a storm. he actually wanted sarah to meet her right away, but she asked him to wait a couple of months, just to see if they were solid about this relationship. “yup, and trust me you’re gonna love her. she’s like a little ball of sunshine, she wouldn’t even hurt a fly.” he said, smiling at the thought how of sweet his sister was with everyone.

“he’s right. i don’t think i’ve even ever seen her mad.” jj stated, shifting his seat from john b’s right to sarah’s left.

“she seems really nice, but i’m not worried about me liking her, because, by what you guys always say about her, i already do. i’m just worried she won’t like me, you know because of the whole pogue-kook thing.”

everyone bursted out laughing at sarah’s words, her face more confused than ever. “what? what did I say?” kiara left pope at the helm of the boat, and went to sit in front of her, crossing her legs together. “you don’t need to worry about that, she doesn’t give a shit about the rivalry. trust me, she looks like she walked out of a cruise brochure. the only thing she wants is to see her brother with someone who makes him happy, which you do, so she’s totally gonna be fine with it.” sarah smiled at her words, feeling a bit more relieved now.

even though pope wasn’t seating next to them, he could still perfectly hear their conversation and see sarah’s tensed body. that’s why he decided to lighten up a bit the discussion. “you know, one time she made jj dress up as a reindeer.” he said getting out a chuckle at the memory of jj dressed as one of santa claus’s reindeers.

kiara followed him with a loud laughter “oh my god it’s true, i almost forgot it.”

sarah gave them an amazed look. she was enjoying this too much to not say anything. “okay, this is actually the funniest thing i’ve ever heard. did you had a red nose like little rudolph, too?” she said with a smirk, turning her head towards jj’s.

“oh shut up, all of you. i only did it because she asked. besides, she looked so happy when i changed into that costume. i would honestly do it again.” jj let out an involontary smile at the thought of y/n. it was like this all the time: wether he wanted it or not, the only thought of y/n made him feel like he was the happiest man on earth, even if he wasn’t. she just had that effect on him.

“god, it’s sickening how whipped you are for my sister.” john b said, mimicking a gag reflex.

jj rolled his eyes at his words. sarah switching her gaze between the two boys sitting one to her left, and the other to her right. she then stopped to look at jj. “wait- you like y/n?”

“like? hell, he loves that girl. he’s been in love with her since he was six. the random hook ups he has? that’s all for show. he only does it to not draw suspicion, since the only girl he’d like to fuck— and sorry john b— is y/n.” pope said, fully exposing his friend’s feelings.

not that jj cared anyway. everyone knew how he felt about her, he didn’t even try to deny it anymore.

“and you’re completely fine with it?“ sarah asked john b, knowing how protective he was when it came to his sister.

“i wasn’t always. first time he told me he loved her? i punched him. not my finest moment but i was kinda mad.” john b replied, slightly chuckling, reminiscing his right fist hitting jj’s jawbone. “i mean, the day before he tells me he sees her as a little sister and then that he wants to sleep with her? hell nah, i wasn’t having that.”

“and what changed your mind?”

“because it’s jj. i know my best friend, and i know how much he cares for her. i knew he was never going to hurt her, i’m actually pretty sure he would die for her.”

sarah nodded along. the look on jj’s face confirming that what john b had just said was a hundred percent true. in that moment a thought crossed her mind, making her think about how what jj and y/n must’ve been something truly special.

“bubba, we’re home.” john b shouted, as he opened the château’s door. the house was silent, except for a light melody coming from the bathroom and the sound of the shower running. “shower! be right there!” sarah heard y/n shout back, as every one of the pogues sat on the couch: her ending up between her boyfriend and kiara, next to who was seated pope; and a bit far away from them jj. she figured he left the space empty for y/n.

about ten minutes later, while the pogues were having a conversation about an upcoming party at the boneyard, a sixteen year old girl came out of the bathroom, wearing a pink sweater and long white sweatpants. white socks at her feet and long wet hair cascading down her back. she walked up to them, bending slightly to place a kiss on her brother’s cheek, and proceeding to do the same with all the others.

she then retraced her steps and stopped in front of sarah. “so you’re the reason why my brother stopped being a cranky old lady.” she smiled, offering her her right hand. “i’m y/n, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“sarah. it’s a pleasure to meet you too, john b’s always talking about you.” sarah replied, shaking her hand. y/n let out a small laugh, as she walked towards the end of the couch were jj was seated.

she plopped down next to him, tucking her legs under her bottom and leaning into him. he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and gently leaving a kiss to the side of her head. “he’s always talking about you too. i swear the other night he woke me up around 3am just to tell me how amazing your date was. which, don’t get me wrong, i was very happy to hear about.”

“you literally throw a pillow in my face.” john b said.

“duh, because you woke me at 3 fucking a.m. i love you bird, but for gods sakes let a girl sleep.” she replied, making everyone laugh at her comment.

the conversation resumed pretty quickly, this time through with jj paying way less attention to it, more focused on the girl next to him.

the entire evening, between laughters and bottles of beers, sarah observed how jj and y/n were always caught up in their whole world. jj’s hands being constantly on her body, wether it was a arm around her shoulders or his hand on her leg. they were glued to each other, sometimes even whispering between them words only they could catch.

for the second time that day, sarah thought about how jj and y/n’s bond was special, going beyond simple friendship.

it was almost two a.m. when kie and pope left, both returning to their respective houses to avoid their parents storming out on them. sarah instead was going to spend the night there, so since jj and john b were on the front porch smoking a joint, obviously a jj’s idea, she and y/n were the only two people moving around the living room, cleaning up the mess of empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.

the whole night she noticed how jj and y/n acted around each other, so since they were now alone, she just felt like she had to ask. “so what’s the deal between you and jj?”

“there’s no deal, we’re friends.” y/n said calmly.

“bullshit, i noticed the way you look at him and how he looks at you. that’s the look of love, sweetie.” sarah decided not to mention how jj actually felt about her. it wasn’t her place to say tell the truth.

“nah, jj would never go for someone like me. he only sees me as a little sister, besides i’m not even his type.” she replied, giving her a kind smile, even though she felt like a lump was stuck right down her throat. y/n always knew she wasn’t the kind of girl jj would want, the were total polar opposites, and truthfully she never even considered herself that much beautiful to have a chance with him.

“since when jj has a type? doesn’t he hits on every breathing human being?” sarah knew this probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but sometimes people needed a little push to blurt out their feelings. to her surprise though, y/n laughed, most likely because she knew how their friend had a habit of flirting with almost every girl he met. it didn’t matter if they were pogues or tourons, or hell even kooks sometimes. a pretty girl is a pretty girl, doesn’t matter where she comes from.

“kinda, but he always hooks up with victoria-secrets-models type of girls, if you get what i mean. and apart from that, we want different things. he doesn’t do relationships and i don’t do random hook ups. not to mention how the possibility of me and jj being together would probably give an aneurysm to my brother.”

“eh, i wouldn’t be so sure about that, ya know. either way though, you like him, don’t you?“ sarah said, remembering the conversation she and the other guys had on the boat.

busted. y/n stayed silent, sailing her lips in a thin, straight line. she then closed her eyes and took a deep breath, getting ready to spill everything out. she figured it was time to tell the truth anyway, since sarah clearly figured everything out.

“i met jj when i was four, we were in kindergarten and some older boys were picking on me. i was smaller and basically on the edge of tears, until i saw this blonde boy running towards me and putting himself between us. even if he was younger than them he still took my defense. after that he walked me home and told me he was a friend of john b’s. since that day, i don’t think i’ve ever liked someone that wasn’t him.“

she took a small pause, just to catch her breath. but she was so caught up in narrating the whole story, that she didn’t notice john b and jj leaning against the doorframe.

jj’s eyes almost bursting out of his face at her words, not expecting to hear her confession. john b, very aware of how his best friend was going to lose his shit any minute now, he places his finger against his mouth, mimicking him to shut up.

“as we grew older the roles kinda reversed and i started to look out for him: when he would come here bruised because of his father i would hug him and clean him up; even if younger than him i helped him study, you know just avoiding he would fail some subjects. at night, dad used to let him sleep next to me or john b because he didn’t want to be alone, thing that of course dad prohibited when i turned twelve. that didn’t stop him though: he would sneak out as soon as john b would fall asleep and come under the covers with me.”

she let out a laugh. “would sir. freud love this? probably yes, but it doesn’t matter. he deserves someone that cares for him, everyone does. and it’s not pity or mercy, i genuinely want to be there for him, because he deserves the best. yet, because of his father he’s convinced he’s worthless, but he’s not. gosh, he’s so funny and smart, which i know sounds weird but he is. he would die for his friends and cares so much for us. and i’m sure he could make it out of obx if only he wanted to. and he’s always so supportive and gen-“

she could’ve kept going on, but she suddenly noticed the two boys staring right up at her. jj’s eyes were watery, like he was going to cry any second now. he didn’t cry much, only when really fucked up things happened in his life, but for the first time he felt like crying not because he was sad and tired but because he was happy. because finally he could’ve had something great going on in his life. he could’ve had her.

without saying anything he launched himself into y/n’s arms, letting her stumble back due to the rushed impact between their bodies. he hold her tight, his arms around her waist and hers around his neck. his face placed in the space between her shoulder and her neck, breathing in the smell of the coconut soap she always used. he didn’t care about sarah and john b still being in the room, he wouldn’t even care if a freaking zebra walked in the house. she was the only thing that mattered. she was his whole universe.

“you shouldn’t eavesdrop, maybank.” she said with a smirk, putting a bit of distance between their bodies so she could look at him in the face, but still managing to play with the of hair at the nape of his neck.

“did you actually mean it? like for real?”

“every word, jay. you know me, i would never lie to you.”

jj maybank was impulsive. half of the time he never thought before acting, which pretty much resulted in him dealing with the aftermath of his stupid decisions. that’s why he didn’t think twice in grabbing y/n’s face with his hands, pressing his lips against hers.

at first he felt her stiffening, probably surprised by his gesture, and for a moment he really thought he had just screwed everything up. but then her hands went to his shirt, yanking him even closer if possible, and he sensed her relaxing, her lips moving against his.

after what seemed like hours, he pulled back, only because they both needed air. if it was up to him, he would’ve spent hours kissing her without getting a break.

“i’ve been loving you for a long time, princess.” she smiled, her cheeks almost hurting because of all the happiness she was feeling.

“well, you’re very lucky then, because i’ve been loving you for a long time too.”

“i can’t watch this, i think i’m gonna throw up.”

sarah nudged her elbow into her boyfriend stomach, giving him a look that said ‘shut the fuck up or i’m killing you’. john b raised his hands in the air, admitting defeat.

and, as they watched jj starting to kiss y/n again, sarah thought of how her own relationship was truly amazing. but in her opinion? what y/n and jj had was the true definition of soulmates.

1K notes · View notes

immortalmolloy · 10 months ago

Text

@ismyverynaturethatofthedevil

Daniel was a bundle of nerves and excitement as he entered the bar. He hoped that he would meet someone tonight. Sure, he would like to get laid like any young man his age, but it was more than that. He hoped to meet someone special. Someone who was interesting and different than all of the other lame assholes Daniel had ever met. He was desperate for a real story, something no one else could write. He hoped that this would be the night that lightning would strike and illuminate his life.

He wasn’t exactly sure who he was searching for until his gaze stumbled upon him. The first thing Daniel noticed about him was how breathtakingly gorgeous this man was. Daniel was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone this devastatingly beautiful before. And there was something about him. Maybe it was his aura if you believed in that sort of thing. He seemed to radiate this electric energy that drew Daniel in like a magnet. He didn’t know what it was yet, but he just had a feeling that that this guy was unique. His gut told him that this guy had a story to tell. So he approached him and tried his best to act confident and cool.

“I mean, if something happens, I’m cool,” Daniel said. It was no secret to Daniel that a lot of queer people frequented this particular bar. Maybe he’d be extra lucky and he’d get a story as well as getting laid. Would someone so gorgeous and mysterious actually go for him though? “But I really want to interview you.”

#closed starter

1K notes · View notes

lnfours · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, can you write the following prompt please "i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?"

after the week i’ve had, i need some lando fluff 🥹 also, i promise i didn’t forget about all your requests! life has been hitting me super hard the last few months

thank you all for being so patient with me and for sticking around 🫶🏻 i love you

cleaning out my inbox 💌

the door to the apartment closed, a sign that your boyfriend had finally returned home after a busy day.

you were in the kitchen, trying to find all the ingredients you needed in order to make dinner when you heard his voice, “i’m home!”

“in the kitchen!” you called back to him, the sound of keys falling into the porcelain dish by the front door echoing off the walls. he came into the room, clearly hiding something behind his back. a smirk on his face, that could only mean one thing.

he got you something.

“how was work?” he asked, moving towards you carefully in order not to show the surprise. you smiled when his lips found your cheek, giving it a soft peck. his usual, everyday greeting whenever he came home from a day of training.

“boring,” you mumbled, “how was your day?”

“same,” he said, “counted down the minutes until i got to come home.”

you chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as you finally addressed the fact that he was hiding something behind his back, “whatcha got there?”

“a surprise, close your eyes.”

you closed them, heating a quite ruffle of cellophane as he arranged the flowers to be in front of him, “okay, open.”

you opened your eyes to the most beautiful bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen. they were vibrant, but housed all your favorite flowers. you smiled as you took them from his hands, raising them to your nose, “i got you flowers,”

“for what?” you asked, now curious to know if there was any real reason. if it was a way of apologizing before he told you something had happened. you looked over at the calendar on the fridge, hoping you hadn’t missed any important dates.

you hadn’t.

“there has to be a reason?” he asked, a small playful smile on his face. you chuckled, shaking your head before placing them down on the counter top.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, his finding their home as they wrapped around your waist, “no, there doesn’t. i was just curious, that’s all,”

he hummed, “i saw them in the flower shop on the way home and they reminded me of you.”

you smiled, “they’re beautiful, thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me,” he smiled back, lips brushing against yours as he dipped his head down closer to yours, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you mumbled back before meeting his lips in a sweet kiss.

422 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 5 months ago

Text

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. ��When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

457 notes · View notes

aikastales · 9 months ago

Text

i’m drunk, i love you (jk)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: with only a day before graduation, you make a promise that you will not only graduate from university, but also from your feelings for your best friend of seven years, jeon jungkook.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: film student!jungkook x med tech student!fem!oc (named sola)

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌: heavy angst, unrequited love, jungkook as an isko agenda, set in the ph 🇵🇭

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: this story is fiction. it does not represent the members of bangtan or any of the idols here in real life. all resemblance to real life characters, institutions, associations, places, events, among others are either purely coincidence or depicted in a fictitious manner only. there’s really no warnings for this story other than it’s a self-indulgent fic to get me back to writing. the smut isn’t that severe. just kissing, nipple sucking, and grinding. this is based on the film, i’m drunk i love you, which i highly recommend you watch. i didn’t alter much of the plot & scenes bc i think they’re already great as it is, but i did tweak a bit here and there. i hope you enjoy! let me know what you think by reblogging/commenting. ♡

𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 5,784

You were never quite the believer in love at first sight, but what you felt that night was the closest thing to that feeling.

He was one of the freshmen performers during your orientation, singing Adam Levine’s Lost Stars. Like the entire audience, you were captivated by his heavenly vocals and charisma as he performed on stage with an acoustic guitar one of the seniors lent him. Not only that, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t bad looking either—quite the opposite, really.

However, after the orientation, you didn’t get to see much of the dark-haired handsome boy. You were studying at UP, the biggest state university in the country, and so your paths were bound not to cross. Until, your older cousin, who was a senior at that time, invited you to eat dinner with him and a couple of his buddies after seeing you strolling around campus alone. When you arrived at the eatery, you not only saw your cousin Yoongi’s friends—Yijeong and Woosung—you also spotted the boy who hadn’t left your mind since you saw him over four months ago at that time.

You sat across from him and you tried your best not to freak out as Yoongi introduced the both of you. Apparently, he had already known Jungkook because he was the younger stepbrother of his other friend, Namjoon. During the course of your dinner, you and Jungkook didn’t really talk much. But you would muster up the courage to ask him some basic questions such as his program, why he went to UP, if he joined any orgs yet, etcetera. Jungkook was polite enough to answer your inquiries.

He was a Film major. He went to UP because everyone in his family went to UP so it was the most obvious choice for him and he was a member of the Film society. In return, Jungkook asked the same set of questions. You were a pre-med student, Medical Technology, to be exact, and you went to UP because it was your dream school. You were also a member of the College of Arts and Sciences’ student council.

After your meal was finished, Yoongi entrusted your care to Jungkook as they were going to meet up with some of their friends and you were both living at campus dormitories anyway. So, you hopped into his old army green Toyota Rav4 and needless to say, the ride back to UP was awkward. So, to get rid of the awkward silence, you asked if you could play some music. He said sure and handed you the aux cord already connected to his stereo. Once you had the other end connected to your phone, you played one of your favorite songs—Waltz of Four Left Feet by Shirebound and Busking.

To your surprise, Jungkook also knew the song and just like that, the awkward silence was gone and you became inseparable ever since.

Music became the bridge that connected you and Jungkook. Whenever you would hangout, it was always your topic—your favorite artists, songs, original scores in films, best albums, underrated artists, overrated artists, the current state of music, everything. He also became your gig buddy—seeking out mainstream and indie artists you both liked and going to their live performances downtown bars, jam packed arenas and stadiums.

But your favorite would always be watching him perform. After his performance at the orientation, he naturally became one of the popular students at UP. He wasn’t popular like a celebrity or an influencer, but heads would turn whenever he walked around campus. Also, he still had the luxury of privacy on his side, but if you looked at the right places, you would find small accounts on social media dedicated to him. He didn’t care for the attention, though, and just went about his day as normally as possible.

His performance did land him some gigs here and there. You found it cute whenever he’d turn to you to ask if he should accept the invitation or not, and you would always tell him to do whatever he wanted. Most of the time, he accepted, especially if it was at Route 96, a historic venue for aspiring musicians.

It was here that he performed the first song he wrote by himself called Still With You. It was also during this performance that you began to see him in a different light—quite literally. He was performing with the bar lights off, only the lights on stage and the spotlight illuminated the entire establishment. When the spotlight on him turned purple, you felt a whole new admiration for your best friend. It wasn’t the “Oh god I’m so proud of my best friend” kind, rather it was the “Oh fuck I’m in love with my best friend” realization.

But like every other story where someone falls in love with their best friend, you kept your feelings hidden, hoping someday it would go away. However, you soon realized, once you fell in love with Jeon Jungkook, there was no going back. It was a rabbit hole.

The more you spent time with him, the more you fell in love with him and all of him—from the way he smiles to the sound of his laugh, how he would always annoy the shit out of you when you were supposed to be studying to how he would remember small things about you like your favorite snack at the vending machine, how you’d be the first to know his test results to how you’d be his first audience for the short film they needed to produce for that semester, how he would lend you his jacket when you ate bingsu because he knew you’d get cold easily to how he’d send you random memes he found funny out of the blue.

It was so easy to fall in love with Jeon Jungkook. Thus, everyone else did too. For seven years, you watched on the sidelines as he dated several girls and loved them how you wished he’d love you.

“In one day, you can finally lay your hands on Jungkook,” your best friend, Mingyu, teased as he took a sip from his beer.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, head resting on your palm, elbow propped on the wooden table in front of you, a bottle of beer in the other hand. You were bordering on getting tipsy now as you had been drinking since you arrived at La Union with Mingyu and Jungkook in the afternoon. You didn’t even know why you agreed to your best friend’s idea of going to the province for a music festival when you had your graduation—the very graduation that was seven years in the making—on Sunday.

“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu,” you told the honey-skinned man across from you with a chuckle.

“What? Let this be your final test before finally graduating. Are you ready?” a lopsided grin appeared on his handsome face.

Under the orange light, Kim Mingyu was easily one of the most handsome men you ever laid your eyes on. He was also tall, well-mannered, smart, capable, had a stable job while being a med student, and the textbook definition of a walking green flag. In another life, you could imagine yourself falling for him instead of Jungkook. But in the current universe you were in, he was one of your trusted friends who had known about your crush on Jungkook since first year.

The waiter arrived to bring you your order of another bucket of Red Horse beer. Mingyu took a bottle from the silver bucket and opened it. “Happy horse for the happy whore,” he told you as he handed you the fresh bottle of beer. You gave him a middle finger. He laughed. “What? Am I not right?”

“You’re the whore,” you replied. “I saw you with that cute chinito by the beach earlier. What happened to Mino?”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of his ex—or you believed was his ex. You never really know with Mingyu and relationships. He was the complete opposite of you. While you were a hopeless romantic at heart, he didn’t believe in love—or so he says.

“Seven years,” Mingyu mused, glancing towards the beach. “You didn’t stop falling in love with your best friend. Now, it looks like you don’t even plan to stop.”

You sucked your teeth, tracing the water around the bottle due to the ice with your fingers. “Do I just throw it away?” You weren’t sure if you were asking Mingyu or yourself. “We make a good pair.” You laughed to yourself.

“Except?” Mingyu pointed out the harsh reality.

“Except,” you took in a shaky breath. “He doesn’t love me back. Maybe.”

Mingyu sighed deeply, looking at his watch. “Time check: you still have your hopes up.”

“It’s still early,” you argued. “I still have two days. Just give me time.”

“Give me time?” Mingyu repeated, taking a sip from his beer. “What the fuck are you talking about, Sola? The universe has given you all the time. But you did nothing.”

You groaned, throwing your head back as a realization hit you. “Fuck, Gyu, I just—I just realized. Is it right that we’re here? Was it the right decision to come here? My mom’s gonna be so mad once she finds out I’m in La Union.”

“It’s all you. You’re a raging masochist,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway. Let’s just play a game. Let’s enumerate all the things you did with Jungkook. Those are seven years worth of memories, Sola. Game?”

“Game.”

“What year did you first meet Jungkook?”

A smile immediately creeped up on your face. “2017.”

Mingyu waved his hand at you. “Wow! You can do math! But I just thought of something—instead of just general memories. Let’s make them specific. Let’s list down all the stupid things you did for Jungkook for seven years.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you let out a scoff, drinking your beer.

“What? Now you can’t remember?” he challenged.

You clicked your tongue. “Fine, you stupid bitch. Ask away.”

Mingyu grinned. “2018.”

You hummed before saying, “Jungkook was heartbroken that year. I was back at home and he was at UP. But I rushed into the city to be there for him. I remember because I was supposed to attend this baptism with my parents but I snuck out and got an earful from my mother the next day. I was completely hungover too because Jungkook and I went bar hopping the entire night.”

“Jesus Christ, Sola.”

“Don’t judge me. It was my decision, okay?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Okay. 2019.”

You stared at Mingyu, laughing as you recalled the memory. “2019. Me and Jungkook walked from UP to Aurora Boulevard just to tell me how Song Areum became his girlfriend.”

He shook his head. “2020.”

“2020—he was sick. I had an exam that day, but I quickly answered it so I could buy him his favorite, Tapsilog from Tapsi ni Vivian, before it ran out ‘cos it runs out quickly, right?” Mingyu nodded. You licked your lower lip then let out a small laugh. “But when I got to his dorm room, his roommate already told me Areum brought him to the university hospital. And I failed my exam ‘cos I didn’t answer the back part.”

“2021, go!”

“I loved him for four years now and counting. Is that good enough?”

“Okay. I’ll accept it. 2022?”

“2022—I’ve been in love with him for five fucking years already, fucking shit!” you exclaimed, feeling the alcohol in you boosting your confidence.

“Okay. We’re in the last year, girl. What about in 2023? What was the stupid thing you did for Jungkook last year?”

You gulped. “I’m two years delayed.”

Mingyu exhaled deeply. A moment of silence settled between the two of you. Then, she asked, “Sola, it all boils down to this: when will you end this?”

You sat up straight, taking a deep breath. “You mean when will I stop with my foolishness?” Mingyu nodded. You purse your lips. “Maybe when I’m done with UP. When I’m done with UP, I’ll graduate from everything—including him. Especially him.”

When you got back to your shared room with Jungkook and Mingyu, you were already tipsy. You almost fell face flat on the floor when you opened the door, feeling lightheaded, but luckily, your best friend was there to catch you.

“You’re drunk, Sola,” Jungkook chuckled deeply. You could smell his expensive cologne—the one you bought for him for his birthday last year and it brought a huge grin on your face, knowing he wore it. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m fine, Guk. I’m not that drunk. But I do need to sit down,” you said followed by a set of giggles as you let Jungkook walk you to the bed you shared with Mingyu, and then you threw yourself on it, back against the mattress, arms spread like an eagle.

Jungkook sat down beside you. “Are you still mad at me?”

The question seemed to sober you up instantly. The truth was—you could never stay mad at him. For anything. Sometimes, you’d think he could do the most painful and hurtful thing to you, deliberately, and you would still forgive him even if he wouldn’t apologize.

“I wasn’t mad. I was just… I just wished you would’ve told me the real reason why you wanted to come here,” you replied softly, biting your lower lip.

“Would you have come? If I told you I wanted to go here because my ex wanted to reconnect—would you have come?” Jungkook matched your tone, looking over his shoulder to look at you.

Instinctively, your eyes also darted towards his. The lights in the room were dim, only the lamp, the light coming beneath the bathroom door, and the moonlight outside illuminated the room. Jungkook looked especially beautiful in the dim light—long black wavy hair all messy from his habit of running his fingers through it, hooded eyes staring at you like he was memorizing every inch of you, the gentleness of his features made him look like an angel in this light.

But then you’d see his dozens of piercings in his ears, eyebrow, and lower lip; his tattooed arm and hand, and the way he looked sexy as hell with his thin white long sleeved, sleeves rolled up to his elbow, and his white beach shorts that hugged his strong muscular thighs, and you’d realize he was more of a Greek god than an angel.

“I’ll go wherever you go,” you told him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know that.”

Jungkook lied down beside you and you felt your heartbeat racing. His tattooed arm was brushing against yours. His head was tilted, close to yours.

“Will you go with me to the moon?” he asked.

A small smile ghosted on your lips. “I will, Guk.”

“How about Saturn?”

“I’ll be with you there, too.”

“Law school?”

You turned your head to him. He was already looking at you. “Law school? Why?”

He brushed the hair on your face aside with his fingers, making you tense. But you kept your composure. “I passed UP LAE.”

“But,” you began. “What about film? I thought you didn’t wanna become a lawyer like your parents.”

Jungkook looked at the ceiling. “It’s not that bad. Being a lawyer. Besides, I like studying.”

“You’ve always wanted to become a director, though.”

“I’m not good enough for it,” Jungkook scoffed. “All my batchmates are already directing their films and showing them at festivals here and abroad—yet here I am. Still here.”

You turned on your side, propping your elbow to support your head as you looked at your best friend. It was rare for Jungkook to open up. Even to you. He was always someone who kept all his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself. In the seven years you’d known him, it still felt like there was a wall around him that you never managed to climb on or punch through. For seven years, it felt like you simultaneously knew everything and nothing about your best friend.

“It’s not the end of the road, Jungkook. So what if they’re showing their films at festivals? You can do it too. At your own pace, in your own time,” you said. You wanted to reach for his face, to make him look at you, but you were scared. “You’re a great filmmaker, Guk. The best direk ever.”

He looked at you once again. “You’re drunk, Yu Sola. Go to sleep.”

He sat up, carrying your legs over the bed. You let out a groan. “I’m not drunk, Jeon Jungkook. Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” he asked, chuckling.

“You always cut the conversation when you’re beginning to open up. You always clamp up, Guk. I wish you didn’t do that. I’m your—,” you bit the inside of your lower lip. What right did I have to demand him to open up to me? “I’m your best friend.”

“I don’t clamp up. I just have nothing else to say,” your best friend replied with a shrug, fixing his hair as he looked in the mirror across from your bed. “Go to sleep. You’ll get a massive headache tomorrow. I’m just going to meet with Areum and her friends.”

Then, you blurted it out. It just happened. You didn’t even know how. You always had this grand idea in your mind to do it after the graduation ceremony, that way, you could immediately leave. That way, you didn’t have to see him all the time. You would have enough time to move on and move forward in your life.

But nothing in life truly went according to plan.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you confessed. Your heart felt heavy and you sat up, head hanging low as you picked on your nails. Tears were beginning to form in your eyes. “I’ve loved you for seven years now.”

And you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. Then, moments later, you felt your hands being taken away from your face. You lifted your head and saw Jungkook kneeling in front of you, holding your hands. He let one go to wipe away the tears on your face, to tuck your hair behind your ear.

And then, ever so slowly, Jungkook leaned in and kissed you softly. A tear rolled down your cheek. His lips were soft while yours were chapped and wet from your tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were still in shock. This was not the response you expected. Not even in your wildest dreams but it was happening.

Jungkook held your face, tilting his head as he continued to kiss you more—only this time with more need and passion. Your body reacted. You began to reciprocate his kisses, hands wrapping around his wrists. He tasted of toothpaste and mouthwash.

He pushed you onto the bed, one hand remaining on your face while the other held your waist. Your fingers curled the ends of his hair. You could feel his growing member on your stomach and feeling it was enough to make your cunt wet. His lips then traveled on your jaw, down to your neck. You were breathing heavily as he nibbled on your sensitive skin, making a soft moan escape your lips.

His hand made its way under your shirt and your breath hitched, causing Jungkook to lift his head from your neck, and look you in the eyes.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he smiled, making your heart skip a beat. “Is it okay if I take this off now?”

“I—,” you were at a loss for words. Was this really happening? It seemed too good to be true. But it was happening and you wanted it more than anything else. “Okay. Yes, you can.”

Jungkook peeled your shirt off, exposing your naked chest. You didn’t wear bras; found it too much of a hassle and you always hated the feeling. Instead, you wore nipple tapes.

“What are these, Sola?” Jungkook asked with a chuckle, making your cheeks heat up.

“They’re nipple tapes, you dumb ass,” you replied, smacking his arm lightly.

“Okay. Do I just take them off, like, tape?”

He was adorably cute. “Yes, you just take them off like tape.”

And so he did just that. The coolness of the room and your arousal instantly perked your nipples. Jungkook took your breasts in his hands, massaging and squeezing them, making you arch your back ever so slightly. Then, he dipped his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth while remaining to massage the other.

The sensation was simply divine. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system, your feelings for your best friend, or just Jungkook in general that made you feel so good at that moment. Your hands traced the outline of his toned biceps through his thin polo.

You were so wet and when Jungkook began to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt, you felt another wave of wetness. You wanted him—all of him—and so you began to rock your hips against him, making him release a moan.

He lifted his head, staring at you with those doe eyes you have loved for seven years. “Are you sure?”

Those three words held so much. Once you crossed the line, there was no going back, and both of you knew that.

“I’m sure. I want this, Guk. I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear to make love to you the whole night. Once both of you came, Jungkook laid beside you, chest heaving. For a while, the both of you lay in silence.

“Will you be here in the morning?” you asked, turning your head on the pillow to face him.

He did the same. “I will,” he promised. “Go to sleep now, Sola.”

But he wasn’t.

When you woke up the next day, the other side of the bed was empty. You sat up, burying your face in your hands. What the hell have I done? What the hell have we done?

You left the bed, entering the bathroom, and proceeding to take a shower. In there, you cried, because nothing was going to be the same after last night. You couldn’t blame it all on Jungkook either. You also made it happen. You desperately wished it was just a dream—another wet dream you had of your best friend—but the traces of his cum were still on your inner thigh.

It happened. There was no going back. Everything was going to be different now and most of all, you didn’t know if you still had your best friend.

When you finished showering and getting dressed, you made your way down to the beach. You had texted Mingyu while getting dressed and he told you he was there with the chinito you saw him with, Wonwoo. Arriving at the beach, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket, about to text the honey-skinned med student when you saw Jungkook with Areum in the water, his strong arms that held you throughout the night, now wrapped around her waist. Fits of giggles escaped her lips as Jungkook wrestled with her in the water, a huge grin on his handsome face.

Your heart shattered.

You quickly looked away, a fresh set of tears forming in your eyes. As you were about to turn away, you heard Mingyu’s familiar voice which caused you to stop on your tracks.

“Sola, hey, there you—what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice was palpable. You felt his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him.

“I—I finally told him, Gyu,” you said, taking in a sharp shaky breath. “I finally told him.”

Mingyu didn’t ask for more details. He knew. He led you back to your room, promising Wonwoo to text him later. Once you were back, you just cried on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything and neither did you. He just let you be until the tears finally stopped.

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from Wonwoo. He seems like a nice guy,” you said after a while, voice raspy from all the crying.

“It’s fine. We’ll be seeing each other often anyway,” Mingyu shared.

You looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

Your friend nodded, laughing to himself. “You know, all those times I teased you about your being a hopeless romantic and believing in love—I think it’s backfiring on me now with Wonwoo.”

“You love him?” you asked.

“I don’t know, Sola. But I know what I feel for him is different,” he answered. “It’s terrifying. How quickly someone can change your perspective on something.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“What’s your plan now?” Mingyu asked.

You sighed deeply. “I think I’m going to head back. My graduation is tomorrow anyway. Do you mind booking the bus ride home?”

“I’m staying here, Sola. I—I want to be with Wonwoo more,” Mingyu confessed, smiling at you apologetically.

“Gyu…”

“Please be a friend to me now, Sola.”

You pressed your lips tightly. Then, you nodded. You wanted your friend to be happy.

“I’m gonna pack now,” you announced.

“Okay. Just text me if you need anything,” Mingyu gave you a hug and kiss on top of your head. “I want you to know I’m proud of you, Sola.”

Once Mingyu left, you began to pack. You didn’t bring a lot of clothes, but you were still biding your time. A part of you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay here and never graduate. But that illusion was quickly broken when you saw your mom’s contact flashing on your phone screen.

You sucked your teeth before answering, “Hi mom.”

“Sola? Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you been answering my texts? Your graduation is tomorrow. Everyone is looking forward to it!” she exclaimed frantically.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m in La Union with Jungkook and—,”

“What the hell are you doing in La Union?! You better get back instantly, Sola. I’m not kidding. If you don’t graduate now, I really don’t know what I’m gonna do. It’s been seven years! Please let me graduate too.”

“I’m already packing and I’ll catch the bus home soon. I just—Mom, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it in time for the ceremony ‘cos—,”

Your phone was suddenly snatched from your grip. You looked up and saw Jungkook standing beside you.

“Hey tita, it’s Jungkook. Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll take her home. She’ll make it in time. Yes. We’ll be home before the ceremony, tita. Okay. Bye.”

He ended the call and sat down on the bed across from you, handing you your phone back. You grabbed it from him. “You don’t have to take me home.”

“I already promised tita I will,” he answered.

“You didn’t have to,” you muttered, folding your shirt.

Silence. Jungkook was just staring at you the entire time as you folded your clothes and packed them inside your bag. Then, he said those two words.

“I’m sorry.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip. What was he exactly for? For having sex with you? For spending the night with you? For not feeling the same way as you? All of the above?

As if reading your thoughts, he added, “For everything.”

You nodded. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” you told him. “It’s not your fault you don’t love me the same way.” But why did you kiss me? Why did you make love to me?

Jungkook lowered his head. You zipped your bag. “Let’s go. I still have a graduation to chase.”

“What’s this?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed when you saw Areum standing beside Jungkook’s car with her luggage and bag.

“I’ll drop Areum on the way,” Jungkook announced, grabbing her luggage and putting it at the back of his car.

You pressed your lips in a line. “Fine.” You stepped into the back passenger seat, quickly grabbing your phone and earphones from your bag, and plugging it in.

Lowering yourself on the seat, you rested your head against the window as Areum stepped into the passenger seat while Jungkook sat on the driver’s seat. You caught him glancing at you from the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you turned the volume up. Moments later, he began to drive.

You decided to sleep the entire ride. However, when you woke up, you immediately realized Jungkook wasn’t driving in your hometown. “Where are we?” you asked, taking one of your earphones off.

“I’m dropping Areum first,” Jungkook replied.

You frowned. “I’m the one chasing a graduation, remember?”

“Shh, just go back to sleep. Here,” he threw something at you—your favorite candy, Butterball, landing on your lap.

You grabbed it, tempted to eat it, but you threw it back at him and went back to sleep. By the time you woke up again, you were at Areum’s house. She turned to look at you, smiling.

She was really beautiful and kind. You began to feel guilty for hating her so much the entire time. “Congrats on your graduation, Sola. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks Areum.”

After Jungkook walked her to her door, he came back to the car. “What are you doing there? Come here,” he said, patting the passenger seat.

“I’m fine here,” you replied.

“Sola, come on. Please? I drive better with you beside me.”

For the rest of the ride to your home, you sat beside Jungkook. Unlike before, where your car rides were filled with music and random conversations, tonight it was silent. You didn’t plug your phone into his stereo and you kept your eyes closed the whole time, listening to your music. Once in a while, Jungkook would try to make small talk, but you would only give him short replies, then went back to sleeping.

When you arrived at your family house, you stayed with Jungkook outside for a bit, both leaning against his car.

“It’s your graduation in four hours.”

“Are you not going to come to yours?”

“I don’t see the point,” Jungkook replied.

You nodded and pushed yourself off his car. “I’ll head inside. Thanks for the ride, Jungkook.”

He grabbed your arm before you entered the gate. You stared into his eyes. You couldn’t quite place what held them right now. Maybe you never really knew Jeon Jungkook after all this time.

“I’m sorry, Sola.”

“Why do you keep saying sorry? I told you—it’s not your fault and I’m fine. I’m over it now. See you around, Jungkook.”

You head back inside. Graduation was in four hours.

You wore a traditional Filipiniana dress, a pair of white heels that were already scraping the skin at the back of your feet, your mother’s pearls, and your sablay when your name was called. You came up on the stage with your excited mother, shook hands with your Dean, and finally grabbed your diploma. You always imagined graduation to be something so spectacular, but the moment you received the piece of paper that confirmed you had, indeed, graduated—you just felt the same.

After the ceremony, you went back to your house where almost all your relatives from your mother’s side were waiting for you. A tarpaulin with your graduation picture and the words, “Congratulations Yu Sola!” printed on it and hung outside your gate. You greeted everyone on your way, telling them thanks, before retreating in your room to change out of your dress and into more comfortable clothes.

While you were slipping on your shirt, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. When you grabbed it, you saw Jungkook’s message on the lockscreen.

Let’s go, it said.

You knew it meant one thing: a beer and butterball at Route 96. There was still a part of you that wanted to go because you always went when you received a message like that from Jungkook. It was always a yes when it came to him. But now that you confessed, something shifted, whether he admitted to it himself or not.

So, you put your phone in your pocket, and went down. But as you do so, you felt your phone vibrate again. You pulled it out of your pocket and Jungkook texted you another message.

Please? One for the road. I’m outside.

You bit your lower lip. Then, you made your way out. There, you saw Jungkook wearing his barong and sablay, leaning against his car like hours ago. He smiled as soon as he saw you come out.

“You still have it,” he pointed to your shirt.

You looked down on it and realized you had picked his shirt of all things. It wasn’t anything special; just something he bought at a boutique. But it meant a lot to you because he gave it to you after you spilled beer on your shirt years ago.

“You attended your ceremony?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. He nodded. “I thought you didn’t see the point.”

“I changed my mind.”

You wished you were just as quick in having a change of heart.

“One for the road?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “One for the road.”

“Shit, I forgot it’s Sunday. It’s closed,” Jungkook sighed, seeing the steel gate at Route 96.

“It’s fine. Let’s just go,” you told him, grabbing the beer he bought beforehand and making your way up to the bar. Jungkook followed behind.

You both leaned in the railing before you, beer in hands. Another silence.

You couldn’t believe this was the culmination of the seven years you spent loving Jeon Jungkook. You thought, after confessing, you would never speak again. He’d distance himself from you but here you were—having a beer with him at your favorite place in the world. You wished you knew what was going on in his mind right now. You wished you could dissect his mind and learn every thought he had ever since you confessed.

Because you never really knew Jeon Jungkook. You were just so in love with him and idealized who he was over the last seven years. Suddenly, all the stupid memories you shared with Mingyu flashed in your mind and made you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook asked, chuckling.

You shook your head, drinking your beer. “Nothing.”

He nudged your side. “Come on, share it.”

You took a deep breath and for the first time, you looked at Jeon Jungkook and saw him for who he was; not the man you have loved for the past seven years.

“I graduated, finally.”

↪˚ author’s note: if you want to donate to me via kofi or gcash <33 i would appreciate it a lot. thank you & see you in more fics later on.

↪˚ permanent taglist: @whoa-jo @kookieandjoonberries

#jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fics #bts x reader #bts x oc #bts fanfic #bts fics #jungkook filo au #bts filo au #jungkook smut

883 notes · View notes

ofjunemoment · 1 year ago

Text

getting even | lee haechan (P1)

synopsis — Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, (one-sided) enemies, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 11.6k

content - clubbing scene, reader is drunk at one point, random idols mentioned, university settings

warnings: mentions of throwing up (nothing too detailed)

a/n - hi lovelies <3 heres the first part to getting even!!! while i was writing the story i noticed it was getting very long (and i still have like... five more scenes to write lol) so i thought of getting this out first ^^ not a lot happens here but stay tuned for the next part because.. a lot.. happens there hehe. i hope you enjoy readingggg!!

Walking into your lecture, your eyes scan around to find an empty spot to occupy, but you were pleasantly surprised to see your friend Naeun sitting in one corner, leaning back as she scrolls through her phone. She beams when she sees you, patting the seat next to hers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You plop down your bag next to your chair, teasing her from the get-go. She whines shyly at your callout.

“I was struck with academic motivation never felt before. It felt like I was destined to come in today and be as studious as possible,” She points towards the lecture, which is barely filled with students. It’s a nine a.m. lecture, but you decided to come in early today to snag a good seat that lets your focus on the lecture with your upcoming assignment that's due; Naeun on the other hand barely comes in after the first two weeks of the semester, regardless of what time the lecture is. If it’s not mandatory, why go?

Her motto is what makes you raise your eyebrow at her now, scanning her figure as if to fish out the real reason why she’s here.

“Don’t look at me like that! I actually came in to study today,” you raise your hands in self-defence, looking away from her with a giggle, opting to stop teasing her.

But not even a minute later, she cracks; “Okay, fine. If you keep insisting me to tell you I guess I have no choice,”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I heard from Haneul who heard from Heejin’s girlfriend who was at that book club meeting with Renjun, which for some reason thought Norwegian Wood the book didn’t match the song, which is such a hot take that only he would take. Anyways,” She crosses her leg over her knee, leaning in as if to tell you a secret, manicured hands cupping the side of her face.

“Haechan might pull something today, at this lecture.” You barely caught her words, but after a few seconds of taking in what she said, you lean back and look at her with wide eyes.

“Haechan? I thought he was finished?” Naeun nods her head at lightning speed, her expression matching yours too.

“See, that’s what I thought too, but apparently he only had some sort of weird writer's block but for his pranks. I think he missed all the attention he used to get, not that he’s any less popular now, but you know what I mean,” You, in fact, have no idea what she means. But with the new information that you’re now fed, you’re hyperaware of your surroundings, looking around for any abnormalities within your vicinity.

Ever since the orientation of the first year of your course, when you met Naeun and had to fight against falling asleep with all the alcohol the seniors were feeding you as a sort of welcoming ritual, Haechan had already made a solid impression on everyone. With the seniors pushing all the first-year students to drink, Haechan had gotten into a bit of trouble for refusing to drink something they’ve poured out for him, as the older guys go around with mindless gossiping, stating how much of a prune he is and that he’s just ruining the fun, all while they stick around girls who are out of their league.

Later that day, Haechan had made a few drinks for the few who he had angered as a form of apology. With his head bowed in tow, he honestly looked like he was asking for their forgiveness.

“It was careless of me to disrespect my seniors so blatantly like this, could you accept these as an apology? I’ll even pour out the soju for you.” With the bottle in his hand, his other hand cradled his elbow, showing respect as he barely met their eyes. The seniors were ready to make him work for it more, but with the way he was bowed in front of everyone in the hall, it looked like they were picking on the poor boy.

“Ah, Haechan, you don’t have to do that.” One of them chuckles. “We were just joking aroun—”

“Please! Just accept this, I don’t know how I can last the rest of my uni years knowing that I had disrespected you on my very first day.” He shouts in his high-pitched voice, making the already quiet hall of murmuring people all go silent. The seniors were now all flustered, before being ushered to take the cups Haechan had provided, waiting for him to pour them drinks.

From the corner of the table, you were slumped against, you remember two things very vividly that night; one, Naeun was an only child, which we can definitely work with. And two, when Haechan looked up at the second and third years of his major accepting his drinks, his grateful smile was laced with some sort of sinister glint.

As the seniors grumble in embarrassment while Haechan finishes pouring each one of them a drink, they swish their cups around as if it’s wine, delaying drinking from them while Haechan insists on signifying their bond with a toast.

“To my seniors, I hope to perform up to your expectations,” And with the tip of their cups in an imaginary circle, everyone cheered ‘one-shot’ as the seniors down their drinks. Haechan merely sipped his, and you had noticed his lips tilting to one corner, and even in your drunk state, you knew something was off.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the seniors all started coughing wildly, some clutching the corner of a table or one anothers’ shoulders, seeming like they were coughing their lungs out.

Turns out that Haechan had slipped hot sauce into the drinks, creating a fusion of different burning sensations to travel down their throats as they drink the alcohol in one shot. Instead of being chastised, he was cheered on by the other first years who were either tipsy or barely hanging on. Ever since then, he was known to pull pranks every now and then, most harmless, some embarrassing, but nothing serious and nothing to spite anyone. Like tampering with clocks in the lecture halls, making them chime a tune every ten minutes, or when he had swapped his blonde friend Jeno’s shampoo with a firetruck red dye, leaving his neck and the better part of his forehead red from the dye for days on end. The only prank done with motivation was the first one as if it was some sort of initiation in itself.

“Wait, at this lecture? But there’s barely anyone here. Doesn’t Haechan carry out his pranks with a full-blown audience at tow?” Naeun shushes at your words, trying to get you to quiet down with your words, but it was too late. The deed was done as the guy from behind you perks up at your conversation, leaning into your conversation bubble.

You recognise him as Sunwoo, as he quickly shifts his gaze between the two of you. “Haechan’s doing something today? Like, at this lecture?”

“Oh.. well, I wouldn’t say so,”

“Naeun,” He turns to your friend, and you look at her with doom written on both of your faces. Naeun can’t lie to save her life, most people know that by now, but never really have the balls to test the theory. Until now, of course.

“Naeun, is Haechan gonna pull a prank today?”

“Naeun, remember what we talked about restraint.” You tried to keep her attention on you, knowing that if her gaze wandered to the boy, she would break.

“Come on Naeun,” Sunwoo whines now, stomping his feet, making you look at him with disgust written on your face at his sudden burst of cuteness. “Just say yes or no. Ywes or nwo.”

“Dude, gross,” You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to finally relent. Naeun squeezes her eyes shut.

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Fine! Fuck, oh my god. Yes, he is, Haechan is maybe doing something today.” She leans back into her chair, chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon. “I hated that, please don’t ever do that again.” Sunwoo winks at you two as he suddenly stands straight in his seat.

With hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts out. “Hey everyone! Haechan is pulling a prank today! Tell all your friends to be careful, and to keep their cameras rolling! Remember to post it on the campus’ blog!” And with that, phones chime as people text and call the imminent news. You and Naeun look at each other, defeated.

“At least they don’t know that we spread it?” You try, shoulders now hunched in as Naeun rubs at her temples.

“Oh! Also, it was these two who told me, so you should thank them!” Sunwoo yells one last time as he points at the two of you, with some hoots and cheers now being sent your way. You two shrink into yourselves even more.

“Haneul is never gonna invite me out for bubble tea ever again,”

As the lecture hall fills up to its max capacity, everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for something to happen. The star of the show himself is nowhere to be seen, but his friends are huddled in their usual corner, trying their best to smile kindly and repeat on about how they ‘don’t know what Haechan is up to. Can I send him a text to see where he is? Why are you telling me what to do—’. Thankfully Jeno was able to stop Renjun from pouncing anyone, even though they both knew nothing would’ve happened.

The lecturer seems over the moon to have the hall filled as much as it is, excitedly explaining statistics and their significance in the current world. She doesn’t seem to notice that the majority are here for some sort of public performance and not the different ways you can find the probability of whatever it is she’s droning on about. You try your best to nod when she looks towards your general direction.

As the lecture ends, people grow restless with the lack of action in the last two hours. But no one had dared to step out of the hall, much less out of their seats in fear of something happening. But when the lecturer thanks everyone for joining her this week and talks about gratitude, people slump into their chairs, grumbling and huffing about their time being wasted. Everyone starts packing straight away, slowly maneuvering to the exit as they cook up theories about why Haechan had gone so long without a prank, and how the word got spread in the first place. You and Naeun sit static in your chairs, not wanting to attract any attention, alongside Haechan’s friends, who merely go on their phones and twirl their pens.

“Do you think this will come back to bite us in our ass?” You’re careful to whisper this time, shoving your laptop into your bag and Naeun clicks her pens closed. She merely shrugs, “I don’t think they even know our names, so I think we should be fine.” You look at the lecturer, who seems to be skipping her way to the exit now, undoubtedly feeling ecstatic at doing her job. As she opens the door and steps to the hall, you last see her beaming smile before a screech echoes out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

The people who were the closest to her are now looking at the ground where she lies, bags and items now askew across the floor outside of the hall. A few step up and help her get up by grasping her wrists, pulling when she seems to have found their bearings. But their effort ends fruitless, as not only does she stay on the floor, but the two people who had helped her also collapse again on the floor.

“What the fuck…” As people go to help their friends and the lecturer from the floor, the three figures on the floor attempt to skid back into the lecture room instead of out. A guy you recognise as Beomgyu looks out onto the hallway outside the lecture hall, before pressing the tip of his shoe against the floor as if to test something. When he pressed his sole against the floor, he tries shifting left and right before pressing his other foot on the floor, rebalancing himself when he’s tilted a bit to the left. You see him squat down and take a big whiff, face confused as he stands back up, but not for long.

Smiling like a radiating child, his laugh echoes throughout the hall as he pulls on his friend Jeongin’s hand to join him. “The floor is covered with butter!”

At that, the once quiet hall grows loud, as people slowly step onto the floor, while some treat it like a skating rink, gliding and spinning right outside the lecture hall.

“The whole floor with butter? When did he have the time to do that?” You question as you now stand with your bag slung over your shoulder. Jeno, who was walking past you with Renjun, turns back to you. “He did it while the lecture was going on. If you can’t handle skidding on the floor, you might wanna use the other door,” And with a blinding smile, he turns back around and heads out the alternative door.

Naeun clutched at your bicep. “Did he talk to us right now? Like, look at us in the eye and speak words?”

You nod your head. “I think you can put your delusional days to an end. He totally likes you,” She smacks your hand as you tease her, but huddles closer nevertheless.

“I am, for once, thankful that you just speak words without thinking,”

You’re tugging at the waist of your skirt as Naeun pulls you by your locked elbows, shoes clicking towards the direction of the club. The Beehive club is known to harbour students of all majors from your university, as it is the closest club to the dorms situated just a five-minute walk away from campus, making socialising as easy as it can get. Naeun had urged for you two to go this week, even when you’d rather rest after giving in the assignment that you were slaving over for the past few days. She insisted that it would be worth this time.

“Haechan finally put a cease in his hiatus. That means he will be at the party, which means Jeno will be at the party, which means I need to make my presence known and somehow rizz him by sending him brainwaves.” She had explained while getting ready, as she blows on her false lashes before putting them on. You sulk from your position in bed, slowly trying to hype yourself up to get ready.

“You’re not even gonna talk to him? What’s the point then?” Naeun groans at that.

“You know that if I open my mouth around him I’ll pee myself. Come on, and you deserve to have some fun after all that hard work,” And so half a bottle of soju and an hour later, you find yourself covering one of your ears as you descend the stairs to the Beehive club. You feel the bass of the song travel up your legs as you enter the club, and are offered free drink coupons. It’s when you’re squeezing a lemon slice into your mouth at the bar that you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn to see Haneul, a grin gleaming even in the dark of the club as she squeals and pulls both you and Naeun into a hug.

“My favourite girls, how have you been?” She shouts against the booming music against your ears, to which you give her a thumbs up while Naeun further squeezes herself against Haneul's figure in excitement, the alcohol already making her feel giddier. She pulls you towards the dance floor, muttering about how she has a VIP booth that someone had offered her, and leads the way. Plopping down, Haneul gestures for staff before saying something into his ear, before giving a wink and pointing at the VIP booth you’re settled at.

As you three start conversing, the staff comes back with more drinks, and Haneul encourages you to drink, assuring you that it’s attached to the tab of the booth. “Some guy called Jay has this booth under his name, and he said to put any drinks I wanted on the tab,” You toast your free drinks against one another, the clink of the glasses barely audible as you each take a sip. Haneul shares the anecdotes and stories that have while she was away on vacation, while you and Naeun nod and react accordingly, slipping in your commentaries at the climax of her stories.

“What about you two? Any news recently?” She takes a sip from her straw as she says this, glancing between the two of you excitedly. You and Naeun share a sheepish glance, knowing neither of you has anything as exciting to share.

“Oh come on, what have you been doing these days?”

“Just work,” Naeun frowns as she says this.

“And school,” You follow up.

“You’re right, and school. And then work again,”

“And scho—”

“You guys are miserable,” Haneul scoffs jokingly. She reaches for the bottle of champagne that's sitting in the ice bucket, grabbing two clean glasses. “Here, have more drinks so you can have something exciting to tell me later on,” Although mixing your drinks is never good, the loud music and the flashing lights encourage you to drink more, and your body craves to let loose.

Two glasses and a twenty-minute dance break later, you’re at a corner of the club huddling near each other. Naeun had caught a glimpse of Jeno at the bar, and the alcohol in her system removed all brain-to-mouth filters she had.

“He’s so—” She cups her face as she hiccups. “So fine. So so fine. You know, when we were at our lecture… the other day with Haechan’s …comeback or, fuck, butter floor, he spoke to us,” Her warm eyes fluttered as she thought back to that moment. “Jeno said real words, in real life and my ear heard them. I think he looked at me too, what the fuck?” She grabs her forehead as if taking the information in for the first time before she presses her head against your shoulder.

“She’s not being delusional, he did speak to us,” You nod your head at Haneul as she shoots you a questioning look, with Naeun clinging onto you harder. “He even helped us go out through the back door so we don’t end up all oily with the butter rink.” Naeun snorts, which catches all of you off guard and even herself, her eyes opening and locking onto something in the middle of the dance floor. Her gaze suddenly shifts, and before you know it she’s shoving her way through the crowd and heading towards her target.

“What is she—? Oh no, fuck,” You gasp while Haneul’s mouth hangs open when you both see Naeun heading toward Jeno, who’s dancing with someone at the moment, at full speed.

Haneul looks at you with contemplation. “I mean… it could turn out for the better?” She tries.

“Or she would wake up embarrassed as fuck for the next week or so,” You contemplate with her. Naeun is never the type to be aggressive, even when she's drunk. The most she’s done once was point a finger at you while she was angry and then look away to calm herself down.

But before you could relax back into your corner, you see her reach up for her earrings.

“Okay, fuck. Take this, I’ll be back,” Shoving your drink in Haneul’s hand, you make your way through the crowd and towards Naeun, rushing before she reaches her imminent doom. Jeno and his dancing partner are oblivious to the devil baby that Naeun takes the form of at the moment, which gives you hope that embarrassment can be evaded.

But then she full-body slams into Haechan.

“Woah,” He places his free hand on her shoulder, stopping her from tipping all the way to the right and losing her balance. The cup in his other hand now seems to be empty as its contents drip from both of their bodies, but Naeun is too drunk to notice and Haechan seems to have barely processed anything, seemingly working on autopilot at this point. You catch Naeun by the waist, your other hand going to her arm and slinging it around your shoulder to ground her, inspecting the mess she made. Your expression is apologetic when you make eye contact with Haechan, but he merely purses his lips and gestures putting Naeun’s other arm around himself for more support.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ and heave her body outside of the dance floor and towards the booth Haneul had brought you to earlier. Placing her on the couch, she slumps down and immediately whines when her hand makes contact with her torso on the descent.

“I’m all sticky now…” Her eyes are barely open as she says this, as the bass of the music dwindles in the semi-confines of the booth.

“That makes the two of us,” As Haechan says this, your eyes glance over his figure to see his once white button-up is now tinted blue and sticking to his body, outlining the faintest of lines in the dark of the club. You advert your eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking at him like a man in the Victorian era.

“I’m so sorry, thank you for helping,” You bite your lip momentarily, feeling mortified for ruining his shirt. He merely waves you off, “Don’t worry. I’m not too fussed about it,” His hand is placed at his hip as he says this, but his free hand gestures at your intoxicated friend. “But she seems to be the most bothered out of all of us,”

As if on cue, Naeun whines from her slumped position on the couches, shifting left and right in an attempt to gain some leverage into standing up, only to slip back down. She calls for your name and then squints at Haechan as if trying to remember his.

“Naeun, let’s call it a night, yeah?” You try telling her and you look around to find her bag that she’s left. She protests like a child in a grocery store, huffing as she droops further onto the couch, her cheek now pressed against the cushions.

“No, not until I bag the class clown's hot friend.” Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks grow hot, trying your best to not glance over at Haechan and somewhat blow Naeun’s cover. You reach over and pat her cheeks lightly in a warning.

“Naeun, you’re blabbering nonsense now. Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’m not! I’m talking about Jeno, not nonsense. Haechan’s super hot friend Jeno,” Your whole body does a reset as she says this, shoulders going stiff while Naeun is oblivious to everything. She opens her eyes and locks them on something behind you, now pointing her finger and smiling giddily.

“Oh! Look, Haechan is here! Hey, do you think if I ask reallyyy nicely he’ll—” Her next words are muffled by your hand and a forced laugh. You cast a look at Haechan to see him trying and failing to contain a smile, as his hand pushes at the corner of his mouth. Upon making eye contact with you he quickly looks away and tries to retain himself from laughing. You sigh as you think about the number of things you’d have to run down to sober Naeun tomorrow about drunk Naeun’s antics right now. Gathering both of your things and shrugging your jacket on your friend, you quickly grab a tissue paper from the table and the eyeliner pen from Naeun’s bag, scribbling down your phone number.

Once Haechan has regained his composure, he’s met with your hand extended towards him holding a napkin. He picks it up from your hand as you wave it a bit impatiently before you quickly go to shoulder your friend up.

“This is my number, send me your details and I’ll cover for your shirt and the drink,” You grunt as you adjust Naeun’s deadweight before she gets the memo and tries standing on her two feet. “Thank you again for helping, uh, please ignore everything she just said. I know it’ll be a good payback prank but—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Haechan’s chuckle resounds deep even in the loud bass of the club. “I wouldn’t pull anything on her for this.” He comes to Naeun’s opposite side, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder, heading towards the exit of the club without casting a glance back at you. You fumble with your belongings before quickly catching up, heels clicking as you ascend the stairs, your hands hovering around Naeun’s general direction, in fear that she’ll decide to fling herself off Haechan’s grip in an attempt of brushing her drunkenness off.

Outside of the club, cars whizz by the busy streets as people go for second and third rounds of drinks at this time of the night. Haechan lets Naeun sink into the ground as the latter pulls her weight, and you scramble towards her on the floor.

“Are you gonna hurl?” You ask. She hiccups.

“No,” And that’s all you needed to hear. Standing up, you fish out your phone and decide to call a cab back to your dorms, not wanting to carry your friend in the ten-minute walk back.

“Hey,” Haechan calls and you had momentarily forgotten that he was still here. You look up to see him scratching at his neck, mulling over his next words. “Uh, if you’d like, I didn’t drink anything and— I mean I was going to but then your friend just… What I’m saying is that I can drop you off?” The alcohol swimming in your brain may be playing with you, but you think you see a dust of pink settle into the boy’s cheek and neck.

“I mean, you’re Haneul’s friends, right? I remember you were her roommate at the dorms last year, so if you still live there I can drop you off,” He straightened his shoulder as he said this, now looking more confident about his offer.

You shift your weight, as you now actually get to take a good look at him. Under the club's dark and strobing lights, you could barely see his features far past his white button-up shirt and the light reflecting in his eyes. The street light illuminates the figure in front of you fully, allowing you to see the blue stain in his shirt, but also the tight fit of his jeans and the veins adorning his arms as he pushes up his sleeves at his elbows.

“Oh, thanks. But we should be okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.” You’re a bit flustered as you say this, your eyes flickering from his forearms to his face, not wanting to come off rude but also not being able to contain your monkey-sex brain from forming thoughts. You’re salivating over forearms.

“Okay…wait. Here,” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, typing in the phone number that you handed to him earlier in the night, calling you briefly. “Give me a text when you arrive home or if you need any help with warding off any weirdos.” You feel your stomach warm at his gesture, punching your name into his phone when he gives it to you. When you give it back to him, he mouths your name, before smiling at you.

“Will you be alright going alone?” He says as he helps you bring Naeun to a stand, the latter squeezing her eyes open and trying to regain balance and focus.

“Yup,” You pop, fixing your friend's bag on her shoulder. “She said she wasn’t gonna throw up, which means I have around twenty minutes until she changes her mind. She’s always the most self-aware pre-vom, so the walk back should be okay,” You don’t know why you’re reassuring him from getting kidnapped on your way back, but it feels nice to have someone care for your safety like this. Naeun starts marching away once you face her in the direction of your unit, and with a last wave goodbye, you turn your back to Haechan and the club.

[FRIDAY; 1:26 AM]

you: hii im home now

haechan: thats good

haechan: did she thrw up yet??

you: nah not yet

you: but we’re getting there you: t-minus three secs

haechan: remember to drink water b4 u sleep

you: okayy thank u for today :)

Telling Naeun how she almost embarrassed herself wasn’t as dreadful when she was fighting a hangover. She seemed to be more concerned about her water intake than almost causing a scene with Jeno at the club, complaining about the dryness of her skin.

“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without telling me to wash my make-up off,” She says this as she adds her expensive serum to her face, grabbing a guasha tool and pressing the cool instrument against her temples, completely disregarding its original use. You continue brushing your teeth next to her against the sink, unable to reply with the foam in your mouth.

“You passed out on the toilet after throwing up, I almost threw up myself trying to bring you to your bed,” You say as you spit out your toothpaste.

“Wait, then how did I not cause a scene?”

“Haechan stopped you,” You reply seamlessly, drying your hands on the hand towel, oblivious to the bewildered stare Naeun throws your way.

“Haechan? Like, Jeno’s friend Haechan? The guy who put red food dye in the campus’ water which made everyone's mouth red?” You remember the initial shock of walking by the water fountain the day he did this, the blood red of the water being a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather last year.

“Yeah, you even spilled his drink on him and everything.” You giggle at the groan that she lets out, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna now plant a hidden alarm in my room like he did to this other guy in the dorm, or put plastic cockroaches in everything I own. I can’t believe I did that, was his shirt white?”

“Not after you spilt his neon blue drink,” You egg on even more. “But don’t worry, he said he won’t pull anything on you.” At that, her shoulders slump down in relief, as she leans against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m safe,” She cheers, heading to the kitchen like nothing had happened. But being the drama queen that she is, she quickly turns to look back at you with a sharp gasp. “But you aren’t!”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “What do you mean? Why would I not be safe?” You disregard her sceptics as you pass by her and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something to eat.

“He said that he wouldn’t do anything to me, but he didn’t say anything about you.” For someone whos nursing a hangover, it’s alarming to see her raise her voice and move as swiftly as she does around you, trying to get you as panicked as she is about her made-up scenario. “He can glitter bomb your bag, or hack your laptop so that whenever you have an assignment it doesn’t go through until a few seconds after it's due, or—” You cut your friend off by stuffing cereal in her mouth, stopping her mid-rant.

“Why would he do that to me? You have to know he only did those to relevant or well-known people, like Somi or Sunghoon. He wouldn’t do some grand prank on someone like me.” You turn to pour your chosen cereal into a bowl. “And if you say anything else, just know I’m ignoring you.”

“But—”

“I’m ignoring you,”

“You can’t do this to m—”

“Ignoring youuuu,”

You don’t hear of or see Haechan until Wednesday, when you’re walking to your second class of the day from the library.

Adjusting your items in your bag, you wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all until he had cleared his throat and brushed his shoulder lightly against yours.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen by reflex, taken aback by his sudden approach before they soften again at the smile adorning his face. “Hi,”

“Hey, you heading to class?” He small talks, and maybe you should spend less time with your roommate, because what should be a simple interaction between you and one of your peers is putting you on edge. Even when you had ignored Naeun’s dramatics about you being dunked on by the boy before you, you can’t deny the jittery feeling coursing through your body, as if your body is gearing in to go into fight-or-flight mode.

Not wanting to come off rude, you hum an agreement and attempt to cast a friendly glance at him, which doesn’t last long as you see him looking back at you.

“Did you, uh, have fun?” You attempt at making small talk, but Haechan looks at you quizically at your lack of context. “At the club, that night. Sorry for interrupting your night and ruining your shirt.” You can’t help but circle back, feeling apologetic when you recall the massive blue stain you had left him in.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I hated that shirt anyway,” You gape at him as he says this, but quickly close your mouth shut and roll your eyes when you see the teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “And don’t worry about the prank thing too, I wouldn’t think about pranking a pretty girl like you,” You flush momentarily, but remember that you’re talking to ‘the biggest flirt on campus’. Haenul’s words, not yours.

“Good to know,” You egg him on, feeling your shoulders slump down as you grow more relaxed in his company. His jovial manner eases your thoughts of him coming after you, as his presence in front of you proves that he’s merely another student on your campus, trying to have fun and get by with crippling student debt.

Small talking a bit more as you head towards your tutorial, you revel in the drama he tells you that has occurred after you had left the club, remembering to list down the details to recall back to Naeun when you see her later. It’s when you’re at the door of your classroom when Haechan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I have a call to take, but I’ll see you around?” He looks at you with a friendly smile, and it takes everything in you not to melt right there. You can see why some of the girls in your year are fond of him.

Waving him goodbye, you wait until he turns a corner before you go towards your class. You’re just a few minutes late, which explains why you’re met with the nearly closed door of the classroom. Readily, you grip the handle and creak open the door, eyes ready to scan around the room for a vacant spot for you to sit at. But before you could comprehend much, you’re suddenly soaked cold.

Turns out, there was a bucket of water placed on the top of the door, which explains why there was a slight gap instead of the door being closed like it usually is when your tutorial begins. No one in the class had a clue of why the bucket was there or thought to dismantle the bucket, not wanting to mess with the inevitable of something occurring. The door you had entered from wasn’t a main door to the room either, but instead, a back door that barely anyone used, so they were all equally shocked when you had chosen to walk through the obscure entry. Oblivious to the minute signs, you walked right into the classroom and were immediately met with water and a few cubes of ice.

You convey all of this to Naeun when she sees you damper than normal at the campus cafe, where you two usually meet during your free periods; you’re usually dryer than this, so it wasn’t hard for her to realise. She laughs, because is she truly Naeun if she doesn’t laugh at your demise, but then she falls silent, brows now furrowed.

You look at her in question. “Why do you look like you’re a shiver away? I’m the one who’s soaked.”

“Oh my god, Haechan did this to you,” She completely ignores your words, making her point with theatre-level dramatics.

You wave your hand at her, disregarding her theory. “He couldn’t have. He was walking with me when I was headed to class.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims, the hot coffee sloshing around in her cup as she almost jumps out of her seat. You flinch at the handling of the hot drink. “He walked with you to distract you from the fact that he’s gonna pull something. He must’ve set it up before and came around to slow you down. I mean come on,” She slams her cup down on the saucer. “A phone call right when you reach your class? Isn’t that too obvious?” And you hate to admit it, but Naeun does have a point. The main topic of your conversation was about him not pulling anything on you, only for you to walk into his trap just a few minutes later.

“Oh my god,” You slouch against the booth seat of the cafe, the information slowly settling in. “But—”

“Why you?”

“Why that prank?”

Now it’s Naeun’s turn to look at you quizically. “What?”

You feel incredulous now, heat building up inside you. “A fucking bucket of water? That’s it? Is that all he could think of; he’s the same person who filled a whole lecture room with ping-pong balls and tied his roommate's bed to the door with rope. Why was my prank so low-effort?” Naeun now realises the anger budding within you, as she looks around the cafe when your voice raises slightly. She splays her hands out in front of you in a lieu to calm you down, but you’re too warped in your fury to acknowledge her attempts.

“Water? Water? With like, four cubes of ice, and that’s it. Is that all I’m worth? He couldn’t put a glitter bomb in every second purse of mine, or change my ex’s contact name to yours, or anything.” You down your drink quickly, feeling too worked up to be cooped in the booth of the cafe. Naeun follows after, quickly gathering her things and putting her laptop and pens in her bag. You would feel bad for cutting your study session short, but she was barely studying, so the guilt dwindles just a bit. The anger overpowers it by a margin.

“Hey, what are you— don’t go and do something stupid.” Naeun tries as she loops her arm with yours.

You sigh when she squeezes your bicep, feeling the heat inside you cool down just a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. If anything, if I act like it affected me and lash out at him, it would be exactly what he wants.”

“So you’re gonna act like nothing happened?” You nod your head with hesitation.

“Well, something along the lines,”

It is no surprise that Haechan thrives on attention. That’s the sole reason why he continues with these pranks, and it doesn’t take a psychology major to figure this one out. You did think about pulling something back on him, maybe like pantsing him in the middle of campus or putting some hair removal cream in his shampoo so he thinks he’s slowly balding, but even with how embarrassing and risky they are —you don’t want to leave a huge impact on him, just ruffling his feathers a bit, you know he’ll revel in the attention regardless. So you go for the next best thing.

Ignoring him.

It was a good idea when you and Naeun were walking and passed by his group of friends, who exchanged some pleasantries with you, your friend barely holding it together at Jeno’s eye smile. You held eye contact and waved at Renjun and Jeno, but barely spared a glance towards Haechan’s direction, and when you finally did, you just gave him a blank stare.

You think it worked when you saw the corner of his lip slip down from the smile he was sporting, and you almost felt bad for acting so cold to someone who didn’t do anything. Then you remind yourself that he did, in fact, do something. You thought it would be enough to do this just a few more times when you see him in the next few months of the semester, and you barely see him so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s like fate has a personal vendetta against you, because ever since that fateful night, you see him everywhere.

You barely remember him coming into the campus library, let alone the quiet corner that you huddle yourself in to get your grind on. So it’s safe to say that you were shocked when you feel a tap on your shoulder only to look up and see Haechan looming over you, a shy smile sporting his face at the prospect of reaching out to you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand tugging at his earlobe as if shy. He looks at the seat opposite yours, as if wanting to sit there. You feel shame burn inside you when you don’t go to offer the seat, but you attempt to dwindle it when you remind yourself that you had to sit soaked throughout the entire class because participation is mandatory for your grades.

“How was your class the other day,” Your grip on your pen tightens as he says this, and you’re sure that the tilt in the corner of his mouth is to keep himself from laughing at you straight to your face. But you don’t give in, and instead nod your head with your eyebrows slightly raised, as if exasperated.

“It was okay,” You can only keep your replies short instead of ignoring him by keeping silent. His lingering form by your table and your avoidant gaze is already fueling the awkward air surrounding you, but you’re not giving in until he does.

And it seems like he’s not backing out anytime soon. “ Oh, I heard from Haneul that you’re planning on picking up cross-cultural management next session? I took that course last year so if you wanted some notes I can send them to you,” Fuck. How is he so good at this? His words make you think about your initial assumptions, and looking at his face, he does seem genuine about his offer, the tips of his ears now growing pink.

You soften a bit, ready to apologise to him for being overstrung, but then his gaze goes to something behind you, and now he covers his mouth with his palm as if stopping himself from bursting with laughter.

Confused, you turn around to see what was so hilarious for him to shift his demeanour so suddenly, only to be met with his friends, Jeno and Renjun, who go cartoonishly still at your attention. Of course, all of this is a running joke for him; sweetening up to you after the incident just so he can prove that no one can resist him.

Scoffing, you shut your laptop and gather your things, ignoring Haechan’s noise of surprise with your sudden movement, shoving everything in your bag and shouldering it. “I have to head out now, forgot that Naeun wanted to meet me before her class.” You make up an excuse as you look at your phone for the time. Naeun is taking a diligent afternoon nap at this very moment back in your dorm, completely oblivious to the trials you’re facing; but he doesn’t need to know your every move.

You almost slip out a ‘sorry’ as a reflex, but one glance back at the shocked faces of both Haechan and his subordinates brings you back, as you merely give him a tight smile before brushing past him.

“Oka— I’ll see you around!” Your shoulder bunches up at his volume as you hastily make your way out of his presence and the building.

Stepping into the radio broadcasting club room, you greet everyone present, apologising for being late.

“I got caught up on the way,” You take a seat at the table, putting your bag on the ground. Naeun, whos seated next to you, taps repeatedly at your bicep as a greeting, squealing away from you when you attempt to deliver a pinch to her skin.

“Did you get another bucket of water dunked on you?” Your senior Yubin comments, making everyone in the room laugh. You deliver a strained chuckle as Naeun casts a worried glance at you, but you wave her concern away

“Yubin’s just kidding, you’re not late either, we just sent Minseok to pick up the pizza boxes. Then after we’re done eating we can start brainstorming for the university mini carnival event.” Sohee softly informs, looking up from her clipboard to give you a kind smile.

“If anything, Jihoon’s the person we have to chastise. He texted saying he’ll be here in five minutes fifteen minutes ago.” Juyeon huffs at his phone screen.

As if on cue, the door opens and in comes Jihoon, but he isn’t alone.

“Sorry for coming in late, but look what I found along the way. Isn’t he so cute?” He coos at Haechan who stands beside him, looking at his friend incredulously, mockingly raising his hand. Ignoring Haechan’s disdain for his words, he pinches at his cheeks as he looks towards Yubin and Sohee. “Can we keep him? I always wanted a pet bear,”

Naeun leans in towards you. “He’s more of a cocaine bear than a pet.” You smack at her as she whispers this to you, reminding her of restraint. “You’re not the best at whispering, babe” You tease. “Keep your tone down if you also don’t wanna get dunked on.”

You feel your heart melt when you see look towards Haechan’s direction and see his cheeks turning pink. It seems like you’re not the only one when you hear a chorus of dreamy mutterings echo throughout the room. He swats at Jihoon’s hand before tilting his head lightly at the two leaders of the club. “I wanted to make sure this devil spawn doesn’t make a mess every step he takes. I’ll head out now,” He starts to wave at everyone in the room but sounds of disapproval travel around, and before he knows it Haechan is being dragged by Jihoon and Juyeon to take a seat at the table. In the midst of all the commotion, he looks up and catches your gaze, making you still in your seat, before he’s handled once more to sit down.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Yubin beams, and not for long Minseok comes in with a mountain of pizza boxes in his grip.

You see the tip of his ears turn red (something you now notice that you see a lot) as he thanks your seniors. “I’ll be out after I steal your food,” He grins, and it takes much more than your initial willpower to look away.

So far, you were willing to categorise seeing Haechan manifesting everywhere as chance; maybe some sick and twisted form of coincidence. Because before all of this, if you were to get a dollar for every time you had encountered him throughout your whole degree, you would have six, maybe seven dollars if you count that one Zoom call. You had your doubts in the beginning when you saw him at the library and then at your club meeting, that he was doing all of this on purpose; but every other time you would see him in the hallways and lecture halls, you can’t chalk it up to anything but pure coincidence. Haechan is a uni student doing uni-student activities.

It takes you some time to get that idea jammed into your head, and you’ve nearly convinced yourself until today. A relaxing wind-down with one glass of wine turned into you finishing a whole bottle, which amplified your cravings for something sweet. Meeting in the breakfast aisle in your local grocer shouldn’t be something shocking, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he, too, decided to purchase cereal at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“Nope,” You immediately put the two boxes of cereal you were choosing back on the shelf clumsily, looking around for the nearest exit in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait—”

“No, nope. Not at all,” You’re now putting back all the drunk midnight cravings you’ve picked up, shoving them back in their designated areas on the shelf haphazardly as you make your way back out of the place. Your drunk and sleep-deprived brain can’t handle the fact that you’re supposed to interact with Haechan here, out of all the socially acceptable exchanges. You hear a shuffle behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to look back around, focusing entirely on exiting the store without tripping over anything.

Outside, the cold of the night engulfs you as you try to find your bearings, but you’re stopped from lumbering your way back to your dorm by a hand grabbing your arm.

“Y/n, slow down—”

“Stop manifesting yourself into my life,” You groan as you weakly prod away his hand, but his soberness gives him an upper hand, as he merely grabs your hand and holds you by your wrists instead.

“Manifesting? I’m not— actually, that’s not even important. Is there anyone with you tonight?” You groan lightly, still trying to free yourself from his grip. “Naeun?” He prods.

You sigh when you realise he’s not giving up anytime soon. “Naeun is at home, waiting for the Oreo cereals I was gonna impulse buy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about them? I don’t know,” You mumble, hands now lax in his grip, head tilted down. When you don’t hear a reply, you look up and are met with Haechan fishing his phone out of his pocket before pressing the dial button.

“Hi Jen, I’ll meet you at the dorms, it’s…” He glances at your slumped figure, and you’re not sure if the heat in your cheeks is due to the drinks or his attention on you. “A long story. I won’t be long.” Pocketing his phone after ending the call, he lets go of your wrists in favour of clasping his hand into yours, fingers interlocking as he starts heading in the direction of your dorms.

“What are you…” The dark of the night doesn’t help you navigate your way back, so you’re slightly grateful that Haechan is guiding you the way he is.

“Our dorm buildings aren’t far from one another. I can’t let you go home alone in this state,” He answers your question before you could even voice it, looking at you with a soft gaze. He chuckles when you go to look away from him every time he looks at you, squeezing the grip he has on your hand.

The walk is silent for the most part, but Haechan’s brows are furrowed as he thinks about something. Just as you start seeing the entrance of your dorm building, Haechan starts. “Why are you ignoring me?”

The heat in your cheeks disperses momentarily as a cold wave washes over you. The heat comes back when your wide eyes meet his questioning gaze, and you can’t help but squirm in place from being put on the spot.

“That’s cheating,” You slur with a frown. “Ask me when I’m sober. Or when you’re also a bottle of wine in.”

“A whole bottle? Jesus,” He laughs lightly as you groan, tightening his hold on your hand when you try to run away. The pull of his grip catches you off guard, as you stumble forward and closer to his figure. “I hope you can keep a promise, pretty girl.” He teases. Before you can retaliate, he plops you at the entry of your dorm building, swiping the access card to the building poking out of your front pocket and on the reader, before removing his hand from yours and dropping the card back in your possession. You already miss the warmth of his touch, but by the time you look back up, you’re only met with his retreating back.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Did you know that if I did a handstand for almost two minutes straight I can get myself to feel— Why are you empty-handed?” Naeun’s slurs have toned down since you last saw her, but it’s still there. You sigh as you plop yourself face down onto the couch.

“Naeun?” Your voice comes out muffled from the couch cushions, but Naeun hears you regardless, grunting a reply as she shuffles from her position on the floor, probably to find a not-empty bottle of alcohol.

“You know that saying about seducing the things that scare you?” You move your head out from the cushion halfway through your question, wanting to breathe more than to wallow for once.

“Ohhh, I know what you’re talking about,” She hiccups only once. “The fearing what you attract.”

“Attracting your fears.”

“Tomato-tomato. What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they were lying about it,” You had only possessed the fear of saying Haechan in the past few weeks, and now you only see him. If only you were that much fearful of money.

“Are you serious?” Naeun straightens her posture quickly. “I’m so scared of puppy play. Like, truly terrified. If someone handsome were to come up to me with a collar around their neck and a leash in their hand I would scream in fear,”

“Okay, I got it the first time.”

“I don’t think you understand, if they were all whiny about how they wanna be my pet and have me stroke the—”

“I get it!”

Although you had came to the epiphany that you’re attracting what you fear (you don’t know if the exaggerated gasp you let out when you walk by a bank or ATM helps, but it’s worth a try) you still can’t get yourself to not think of Haechan when you walk around campus.

But you don’t see him for the entire week after your last drunk interaction with him, and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or scared. So you choose to be both simultaneously, When you step into your corner of the library, your heart beats like you’ve run a marathon, only to be met with the usual vacantness it always was. You then go through your usual tasks until you have to a secondary location, and before you know it you’re nervous for simply wanting to walk to the bathroom.

“Am I going to constantly piss my pants every step I take on campus?” You complained over dinner with Naeun, as she constantly flips the meat on the grill to avoid burning it.

“If you keep thinking about him, then I think the answer is obvious.” She puts one slice on your plate before continuing. “But also maybe take this as a sign? He’s not popping up randomly anymore, which means that your life is like it was before.” Your reflex is to fight back for no other reason than to counteract your friend, but you cut yourself short when you realise she has a point. Ever since that fateful night, your life is now like it was before you had briefly acquainted with the man.

And so you’re not scared anymore. You even forget to double-check your surroundings to see if he’s anywhere in sight. Your life is as peaceful as a student's life can be. Of course, until it isn’t.

The university’s yearly fundraising festival had come around again, and the broadcasting club had decided to run a barbeque booth to raise their supply funds. You were assigned to take orders, while Juyeon and Yubin tended to the skewers. The heat of the booth mingles with the cool wind of the summer night, as you fan yourself with your hand, handling the money given to you as someone makes a new order.

“One order of chicken skewer please,” You raise your voice enough for Juyeon and Yubin to hear over the sizzling noise of the grill, as you find the exact change to give back to the girl ordering. As the next customer shuffles up, you’re too busy writing down the order on a slip of paper to spare them a glance (which, if this was a running business, would not be counted as good customer service).

“Welcome! Would you like to order our rice cake skewer? We have a special combo of two for the price of one,”

“How much is it for a few minutes of your company?” You feel your blood run cold upon hearing his voice. Looking up, you’re met with Haechan’s gaze your eyes locking in an unexpected encounter. Adorning a smile on his face, he looks past you and greets your club members before you can think of what to say.

“Hi Channie, how are you?” Yubin asks as she put a chicken skewer in a cup. Juyeon comes up next to you as he reaches out to pinch Haechan’s cheeks. “Hey there cutie, do you wanna do us a favour and buy everything from our booth?” He flutters his eyelashes just for good measure.

Haechan chuckles as he smacks his friend's hand away. “I’m the wrong person, only Chenle has enough money to do that. But can you do me a favour and let me steal your beloved club member?” You don’t realise that he’s talking about you, until you see his hand gesturing towards your figure as he looks at you. You’re about to protest, your brain already conjuring something up about how you have the heavy duty of being the booth’s designated accountant for the night, but Yubin is always a step ahead.

“Go ahead! Her turn was gonna end soon anyway, Sohee is gonna arrive in a few minutes with more of our supply,” She beams at you as she waves you two off. Before you can say anymore, Juyeon is shoving you out of the way, and you have no other choice but to trudge after him.

You walk side by side in silence, as the noise of the multiple booths being run by different clubs and societies encapsulate you two. You try your best to look at everything but him, even when you feel him stealing glances at your figure.

The silence doesn’t last long, though, as Haechan speaks up after looking around at the booths set up. “It’s quite stuffy with all these booths and people,” Not knowing what to say, you merely glance at him as you nod along. He purses his lips, before trying again.

“You must be feeling pretty warm, running the grill and managing everything at the booth. Jihoon used to complain all the time about how hot it got when he was in charge of these things." It's true you've been avoiding the grill area, so you’re not necessarily overheating, but does he deserve to know?

You hear him lightly huff when you just give a shrug and an ambiguous sound, but he doesn’t back down. “Do you want me to get you something to help you cool? Maybe ice cream or a can of coke.” You're on the verge of giving your umpteenth non-verbal response of the evening, but when you look at the boy walking next to you, you’re met with a glare and a quick snarl of his lips. Faced with his insistence, you decide to speak up.

“I’m okay,” You thought this would appease him, but it seems like anything you could’ve done would eventually send him over the edge. You feel his hand clasp onto your wrist before you’re being dragged away from the congested corridor of booths and into a secluded corner of the campus grounds. Even in the shade of the tree, the little light that slips through the lampost nearby highlights the frustration on Haechan’s face, both arrogance and apprehension flood your senses as you realize that his frustration might be a result of something you've done.

His voice is calm when he speaks, “Okay, did I do something to offend you?” He briefly closes his eyes and mentally counts a few numbers before opening them and looking back at you again, this time with a calmer yet stern expression. But rather than soothing your irritation, this seems to send you over the edge.

“I don’t know, did you?” You know you’re being childish, but that’s the point. You’re not planning on giving in until he apologises. By the look of confusion he’s sporting on his face, it doesn’t seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon.

Admittedly, he does look cute when confused, as his front teeth poke ever so slightly from his slightly gaped mouth, as if he’s about to say something but blanked at the last second. “I did do something?” At your scoff, he gathers himself. “Look, if I did do anything, I didn’t have any bad intentions. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything.” But this explanation only sends you over the edge.

Your hands drop from where you had crossed them in front of your chest, as you give Haechan an incredulous look. “No bad intentions? You didn’t want to hurt me? Are you serious? The fact that you even did it is terrible, but such a useless, no-brainer prank?” You’re too angry to notice Haechan’s shift of expression, as his scared grimace falls into another confused furrow of his brows.

“Like, a fucking bucket of water? Even a toddler can pull that. Couldn’t you have done something harder, more creative? Something with more effort, like, I don’t know, expired slime or a skateboard at the door. And I feel even more stupid because I believed you when you said you wouldn’t prank me, I even defended you when Naeun was going off about how I’d be your next target, and I turned out to be a fool, fuck. And for what? A lame bucket of water? Am I only worth that much?” You pause to catch a breather, hand splayed at your waist as you point the other accusingly at Haechan. He widens his eyes slightly, but then a smile falls on his face, and you’re sent spiralling.

“Are you smiling right now?” And at that, he starts laughing. Oh my god, you think, he’s a sociopath.

But Haechan starts laughing even harder, his body falling forward as he leans towards you, clutching your extended finger with his thumb and forefinger, shaking it around before folding over with laughter once more. You’re so, so confused, and now a bit scared that Haechan’s gonna keel over and fall from how hard he’s laughing.

But you don’t need to do such a thing, as he sobers up pretty quickly, straightening himself up and walking closer to you, while his hand now lightly holds your palm in his. You feel heat course through you, from the comfort of his hands holding yours and the sweet laughter that now rings in your head. You feel embarrassed that you bursted like that when you were so determined to make him fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness. Instead, you’re left blushing like a schoolgirl who confessed with a heartfelt letter.

“Okay, okay. Wait, don’t go sullen now.” You look away, your cheeks growing hotter at being so easily read. Haechan grips onto your hand that was lightly resting on his palm, grabbing your attention.

“I swear on Renjun that I didn’t pull that prank on you. I didn’t even know that happened to you.” Your first instinct is to not believe him, but he’s looking earnestly into your eyes, and the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours makes you melt.

“I don’t know how I can prove it you that it wasn’t me, But I told you I wouldn’t do it and I always stick by my promises. I can maybe help you find who did it?” He offers this while smoothly clasping your hands together, fingers now lacing in yours. The intimate gesture sends a wave of flustered warmth through you, and his chuckle in response only confirms that your emotions are evident.

“Wah,” He sighs bumping his shoulder into yours, “What a relief, I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

“Wait, you—” You’re interrupted as Haechan starts striding forward and back into the busy atmosphere of the campus. “Haechan, slow down.” Your voice gets lost in the throng of the crowd, the bustle of people and echoes of activities happening making it hard for your plea to reach his ears. That, or he's simply ignoring you.

In a blink, you're situated back at your booth, the savoury scent of skewed chicken and rice cake wafting through your nose. Haechan releases your hand, and you both face Sohee, who's manning the cashier with a somewhat indifferent expression. “Hi, I just wanna return her,” Haechan says casually, his gaze shifting between you and Sohee.

Sohee regards the two of you with a blank stare, her expression unreadable. Haechan pats your shoulders twice before he waves the two of you goodbye. Sohee goes back to organising the money gained from tonight’s business, not sparing you another glance. “We have a no return and refund policy, especially with damaged goods.”

“Hey!”

You’re not surprised when you see Naeun in the lecture hall, but you are slightly taken aback when you see her situated just a few seats behind Renjun and Jeno. When you rock up next to her, you let your eyes do the talking as you glance back and forth between her and Jeno’s back, with the latter all the more oblivious to what’s happening.

She smacks at your leg before grabbing you and pulling to sit you down. “Shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything?”

“Your empty brain echoes really badly when you conjure even a single thought,” You’re too shocked to retort back (how did she think of that so quickly?), so you simply go to unpack your bag. When you sit back from organising your items, your eyes fall on the door of the lecture room, and you’re surprised to see Haechan stride in. Even in the middle of summer, he has a leather jacket swinging from his fingers at his shoulder, sporting a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his black jeans. You’re about to say something to Naeun, maybe have her indulge in your admiration for a bit, only to be met with the same look you’re sporting but just aimed at the back of Jeno’s head.

When Jeno turns his head to greet his friend, Naeun quickly whips her head away, clearing her throat. You poked at her sides teasingly, as she squirms and smacks your hand away.

“I thought you were gonna ‘act chill’ around him?” Naeun huffs at your words.

“I am acting chill, I’m basically freezing.” You raise your brows at her. “There’s nothing chill about staring at the back of hi—”

Naeun smacks at your mouth when Renjun turns his face sideways, but the loud smack of skin garners more attention, as all three of them look back at you. As the other two merely glance briefly before going back, Haechan’s eyes stray longer while the corner of his mouth quirks up. You offer a simple wave and he flashes a smile before turning back around.

Naeun sighs as she releases her hand from your face, but quickly corners you with a glare. “What was that? Why was he smiling at you like that?” You’re grateful that she’s been practising her inner voice, as you know that Naeun from two weeks ago would have had the whole lecture hall aware of her words with how loud she whispers.

“Long story short, he didn’t do it, and I think …” You’re not sure if you should tell Naeun about the possible confession that occurred. Not because you don’t trust your friend but because you’re not even sure if that could be counted as a confession.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he said it to get on your good side,” Naeun stares daggers at the back of Haechan’s head, but her gaze quickly softens when Jeno plays with his hair.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “He said he didn’t do it, and I trust him.” Naeun surveys your expression for a bit with a glare, before nodding her head in acceptance.

“Alright, I trust your trust in him. But if he ever pulls anything…” You pinch your friend's cheek in gratitude. “I know, you’ll have my back.”

“Speaking of back, did you see Jeno’s when he stretched? It’s okay if you haven’t he’ll do it again when we're a third through the lecture.” You slowly pat her shoulders, speechless once more as you sigh and try to tune her out for the rest of the lecture.

read part two here !!

#nct dream fluff #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #7dreamnet

2K notes · View notes

3cremepie3 · 7 months ago

Text

Airhead pt. 1

Synopsis - Riddle Rosehearts x fem reader. Y/n is an idiot and needs help with studying from Riddle! She wants to pay back his kindness in the only way she know how.

Warnings - innocent riddle, lose of innocence, graphic mentions of head lol, premarital sex, cursing, spit, roughness, slutty y/n, bimbo y/n

A/n - I was supposed to start this series so long ago but I got caught up in request. I found this so fun to write and I will be continuing it!

“Hey riddle,” you exclaimed. You pulled him in for a big hug he deserved it for being so generous. He was helping you study for free! “There’s no need for that.” His words were harsh but his smile said otherwise. Whatever you let him go and plopped down on his bed.

“Wow, it’s so soft I can lay here forever.” You will not now up at once,” he demanded. “In order to get optimal study results students sit at desks. I have a perfectly organized one here.” You sighed getting up to sit at his desk. The chair was cool against your ass cheeks that hung out your dress.

It was uncomfortable and for some reason forced you to sit up. “Now let us begin I have tea time to attend to and I’ll leave you for independent study time then.” Okay,” you accepted. The session didn’t even start yet and you were bored. "Yawning already? Did you not get a good night's rest?"

"No, I stayed up all night waiting on a flash sale." Well, that was idiotic,' He claimed. "When your dorm has no AC you make do with what you can get, look isn't it cute."

"My god," Riddle gasped. "Isn't that lingerie women wear that for their husbands and as far as I know you aren't married." You erupted into a fit of giggles. God, he was over dramatic! “Riddle you're too innocent for your own good," you laughed. "I'm just wearing it to bed what's the harm in that?"

"You're right." He cleared his throat and stepped away to grab a hefty text book. "Hand me your phone there must be no distractions." You were hesitant but handed it over. Riddle grabbed a chair and scooted over towards you. Your body moved closer to his wanting to marinate in his scent. "Wow, you smell so nice Riddle like roses."

"Well thank you I make sure to use rosemary oil and- what are you doing get back to reading at once!" He pointed to the paragraph your eyes finished scanning. "I already finished," you pouted. "Fine then let's get started on this written response."

"The teacher wants you to write this in a formal format so no personal perspective." He continued to yap on and on about something that you couldn't bother to hear as you were distracted by the flamingos running across the yard. "Get him." You cheered leaning out the window to watch the mayhem between students and flamingos concur.

In an instant, you flashed him the short dress that you wore hiked up your back. “You mustn’t lean over like everything is showing,” Riddle yelled. He covered his eyes wanting to keep your privacy. “Ace he went that way,” you pointed. You felt the air on your ass and quickly realized what Riddle had been yelling about.

“Oops my ass was out,” you giggled. “It’s not funny Y/n!” Come on Riddle you act like you’ve never seen anyone’s panties before.” He stared at you blankly. “Wait you genuinely haven’t?” His face became rosy red at your question. “Well, not in real life of course.”

“Christ how is anyone this pure,” you wondered. “My mother kept me very sheltered from a lot of things.” So you’ve never watched porn?” He held his head low not meeting your bright eyes. “ How is that your first thought no I have not.” We’ll have you ever had a girlfriend or a side hoe or a hookup?”

“No I don’t have time for any of that,” he admitted. “I guess remaining top student comes with its downfalls.” You frowned for Riddle. You couldn’t imagine not getting laid. Just then you thought of something. “Well, Riddle since you gave me your time helping me study I’ll give you mine in bed?” You watched him awaiting his answer. “But mother says only married couples do that.”

You slapped your forehead out of frustration. “Mother means married couples stick it in. No one said we have to do all of that.” I suppose there’s no harm since it’ll be a fair exchange and as long as it’s done before tea time.”

“Yup just the perfect pace,” you gleamed. Now why don’t we get on the bed,” you suggested. “Alright.” Oh wow Riddle I’m surprised you’re agreeing to this.” Well, you only live once they say.” He propped himself up on his elbows wanting to face you.

“This process is for relaxation you can lay fully down.” He laid back sinking into his many pillows. “Good boy now take off your clothes.” You heard his breath hitch at the thought but his hands were eager to make them come undone. He stopped at his underwear, however. “Need help or something.” Your hand graced over his bulge and then to the band of his boxers.

“I think that would be best,” he admitted. You couldn’t help but notice his hands shaking. “Aww Riddle don’t be nervous. You sat up to give him some kisses on his burning torso. “It’s just a little dick-sucking,” you reminded. “I know but I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well, then I’ll take things slower if you need it.” You began to kiss him softly he was a beginner after all. The first few were awkward teeth colliding but cute as you shared drool. The next ones were better since you took control catching his tongue in yours. You broke apart letting him catch his breath.

His hands tangled themselves in your hair pulling you back in. You balanced yourself on the bed before pulling your hips over his. Now you straddled his lap and could feel his heat against you. Riddle pulled up your dress which caused a gasp to come from your lips.

“Are you eager now?” Yes.” You looked up to see a riddles face flushed in a shade of scarlet. “Fine then I’m gonna go back down here. You crawled back to his legs making sure to land in an arch. Riddle thought he would lose his mind seeing the peak of your ass on full display. You pulled down his boxers to clearly see his mental state.

“Aww look at you dripping,” you coddled. "You can touch it i see you staring." Oh okay," he hesitated. You felt a hand collide with your ass cheek. He rubbed the flesh gently afterwards although it was an apology. You were gonna let out a protest but his focused face was too cute to pass up. You let a glob of spit coat his tip. You scanned his reaction as it slid down to his base.

His breath hitched at the warmness. Soon your mouth would follow the direction of the spit swallowing him down until you gagged. You exited with a pop making his toes curl. "So how's your first time getting head feel?" Good now continue," he demanded. His hand pushed you down onto his waiting dick.

You felt it twitch in your mouth as your tongue followed every curve every vein its entire being. "Oh my god," Riddle huffed. "Your cocks so cute look at it shake for me." You let it rest and spasm on your cheek. Your face had become wet with spit and his pre but you didn't mind. "Taste so good baby," you mumbled. Riddle could only bite his thumb down in response to holding his moans.

Your hand left his thigh to assist you in pumping him. Your grip was strong bringing his balls to tingle. Your lips noticed as you licked against the masses. And it intensified as you juggled them both in your mouth. He looked down on you astonished at your sinful actions.

Your dress was soaked but you were only just getting started. "Change of plans I want you to throat fuck me." Riddle looked at you like a lost puppy. "What does that mean." After quickly giving him a rundown he got into position. "So like this." He asked while pushing himself into your pulsing throat. Your hand linked themselves on his hips bringing him to push himself even deeper.

Riddle let out a grunt at the sensation of you squeezing around him. "Fuck it's like you're sucking me in." You chuckled you'd never think you'd get to hear Riddle RoseHearts curse. His hips buckled back and forth drilling themselves into you. But you still felt as though he was going to be soft on you.

"Riddle here's your chance to ruin me, to take all anger and stress out on me, to manhandle me. You're a man right then prove it to me." You spoke while scattering cock kisses. Riddle scoffed he was tired of everyone second-guessing him because he was small. "While since you give me permission I shall do my best job at it."

His smile twisted into a cruel smirk. You could tell in his head he had felt as though he was back in charge of the monarchy. While really you were still the dominant you just loved getting throat fucked. His hands raced to grab your neck forcing you to collide with the end of his shaft. You felt his hair tickle your nose while you gagged heavenly.

Riddle couldn't get enough of the vibrations against his core and forced you to stay until he watched your eyes roll back. You coughed greatly after being freed but stars were in your excited eyes as the same fate occurred. You watched Riddle lose himself in the contractions of your throat.

He moaned loudly as he pumped you like a fleshlight. They became whimper and he let out mewls that sounded as though he was crying. It was music to your ears especially when his voice that was sure to go raw yelled "Y/n" a dozen times. If he kept this up your throat would organize his shape forever.

And you wouldn't mind as long as you heard his whimper audio. "So good I think I'm gonna." He tried to give you a warning but it was too late. His cum poured down your throat leaving you to swallow the best you could in the short amount of time you had. The excess liquid spilled down your face and his now empty balls. He finally let go of his grip which allowed you to move away from the monster that was his cock.

You had 100% slayed that beast as he softened in front of your eyes. You pulled the bottom of your dress down ignoring the wet patch your essence had left on his bed. "Now we both held our fair end of the exchange." You spoke your voice raspy while removing your dress and stealing one of Riddle's shirts.

"Yes if you ever need help again be sure to let me know," he exclaimed. "Mhmm I'd love to push things even further. What your mother knows doesn't hurt her Riddle. It's not sin if its secret!”

441 notes · View notes

back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

Text

Girl Crush - MYG

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Read the follow-up drabble, Afterglow.

Pairing: Husband!Yoongi X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, arrange marriage au

Wordcount: 1.5k+

Summary: It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

Based on Girl Crush by Harry Styles (Cover).

Warnings: unhappy marriage, unrequited love, yoongi loves someone else. this is very painful.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: I had this idea sitting on my head for a long time now. Thanks to @jimintaemin for requesting this and giving me a chance of writing this. This is very angsty just as you wanted. Hope you like this. Hit me back with your feedback!:)

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

“I assume you already know that this is a marriage of convenience, a negotiation between two companies. And I hope you will not expect anything from me. As long as it’s about responsibilities, I am okay with those. But don’t expect anything more.” Min Yoongi had said, cold and stoic, as if not conversing but stating some flat facts related to stock prices.

He was not wrong. Whatever he had said are indeed facts and there was nothing you didn’t already know.

So you stood there, standing as still as a porcelain doll, ready to fall and break at any given moment.

“And just so you know… I have someone.” he finished, diverting his eyes from you even though he never really looked at you properly.

Although you were glad that he didn’t. You were more than happy that he didn’t witness tears rolling down your face, gathering below your chin and dropping down at the immaculate fabric of your wedding gown.

Do tears leave stains? You hoped that was not the case.

It’s not that you pictured a fairytale married life for you. You know arranged marriages come with more cons than pros. You knew you would have to pay the price.. but at the same time you had no choice. You were even more reluctant to do anything because it was him.

It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

It was foolish for you to expect a man of his stature would not have someone to love, to be loved by. And it was even more foolish for you to think, you can be his wife, a real one.. and lead a life with him.

However, now you know it’s impossible. And the realization made you feel helpless, caged and broken.

“I won’t expect anything, I promise, but in return… Can we at least be friends? It will make things easy for both of us.” you’d uttered upon managing your voice and emotions.

Only then he looked at you, like really looking at you with a small smile playing on his lips, he’d said “sure.”

That was the moment you realized you had a girl crush. And it was the woman who managed to make Yoongi, your husband, fall in love.

“I got it real bad.. Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh.. She's giving you now.”

You thought, you would be angry. You thought every possible darkness would cover your senses, when you’d meet her for the first time.

But wrong… you were.

You had so many prejudices about this woman and you hated her with every drop of blood your body owns but all of it evaporated in thin air when she smiled at you standing right at your and yoongi’s door.

She is beautiful, she is kind, she is loveable… and maybe everything else you can’t ever be.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I never thought I was going to see Yoongi ever again.” she’d murmured as she stood close to you in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you three.

You had stared into her eyes then.. Trying to find mockery and a hint of brazen victory telling you, “you’re only his paper wife. I own his heart.”

But again.. Again you were disappointed.

In her eyes, there was no mockery, no pretense, no dishonesty.. Rather only understanding and kindness. Only then you understood why Yoongi loves her so much.

Why will it never be you and always be her.

That night as you stood at the balcony, enjoying the stinging sensation cold wind brought to you, you heard them laughing.

It was the first time you heard Min Yoongi laughing. Even though faint and muffled, you could still sense his happiness through the sound.

Min Yoongi was finally happy... for the first time since the wedding ceremony... and you were not the reason.

All of a sudden, you were jealous again, even though you were not sure if you had the right or not.

“I want to taste her lips… Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself… In a bottle of her perfume”

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you invited her to your and Yoongi’s honeymoon.

Both of your and his parents have been pestering you to set out for the trip. You have been using excessive workload as the excuse and you assumed Yoongi to do the same.

But a week ago, everything went south when Yoongi had a fight with his father. As a result, flights were booked, accommodations were chosen and you two were notified only two days prior.

That night, Yoongi didn’t come back home. And when he did, he didn’t speak a single word to you.

The visible frown on his forehead and the cold aura that oozed from him, made you want to make him smile, made you invite his lover to the trip secretly.

She was already there when you two reached and you will never forget Yoongi’s reaction when he realized what was happening.

The grumpy cold Yoongi broke into gummy smiles and giggles as soon as he saw her. They kissed right in front of your eyes and you silently cried.

Oh how you wish, you could taste him too. How you wish, he would hold you like that, caress you like that.

How you wish… he would love you like that.

“I want her long blond hair… I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then… You'd want me just as much”

“Babe, could you please turn your head a little? Yes.. yes just like that.”

You watched the man as he clicked photos after photos of the woman he loves, seemingly trying to document her beauty for a long long time.

You watched her as her long blond hair flowed like a waterfall down her shoulder, wind ruffling it gently making her look even more beautiful.

“Let’s take a selfie, will you?” she shouted at him and he chuckled.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he said, “you smell so nice.”

You wondered, what she smelled like, what perfume did she use to make Yoongi look this satisfied. You even considered asking her, purchasing a bottle and drowning yourself in one of those if that means Yoongi would love to smell you too, he would curl himself around you late at night. If that means Yoongi would want you, just as much.

“I don't get no sleep… I don't get no peace Thinking about her.. Under your bed sheets”

“Where are you going?” confusion dripped through Yoongi’s voice. You stopped at your tracks and turned to face him.

“I will sleep in the other room. You two should have your space. I will send her in as soon as I am there.” you smiled at him, even though your heart bleed invisibly inside your chest at the thought of how they would spend the night together.

“No, Y/N. We will adjust. You sleep here in the suite.” Yoongi commented, as firm as a verdict, as he stepped towards where you stood.

“But Yoongi, I am alone, what would I do with all this space?” you sighed. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone at the honeymoon suite, decorated for the newlyweds. You hate it. Totally loathe the decorations. Those giant red hearts had been mocking you since the moment you stepped there. You might tear those to pieces if you were left there alone, raising endless questions regarding such an act.

“You have done enough. You have done much more than you needed to and I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. So, please… stay here. Enjoy the stay. We will manage.” giving you one of his tight lipped smiles, Yoongi slipped out of the room to spend the night with his lover.

That night when you slid inside the covers, which smelled awfully like him because he took a nap earlier in the evening, you started breaking down.

Your hopes, your dreams, and your heart all started crumbling right before your eyes. You held the duvet tightly around yourself and pretended it was yoongi wrapped around you, it was Yoongi, whispering sweet things in your ear, it was Yoongi, telling you that he loved you.

Somewhere you knew, Yoongi is actually doing all these things in real-time but.. Not to you.. Not for you.

You closed your eyes, tears streamed down your cheeks and wetted the pillow. You imagined your life as her… as your girl crush… as the woman your husband, Min Yoongi, loves.

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

#bts angst #yoongi angst #suga angst #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts x you #suga fanfic #bts arranged marriage au #bts drabble #bts #bts suga #nika's milestone drabble game

1K notes · View notes

moongreenlight · 1 year ago

Note

I love your work about the 141 gossiping about Ghost, love the concept of him having a “secret wife”.

Please please please write more with “secret wife y/n”, I beg of you. 🙏🏻

ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANON. <3 Ghost and secretwife!reader are my sweet babies I love them so much.

Tw: blond Simon & smiling Simon. Read at your own risk.

If there’s one thing Gaz knows how to do, it’s shut the fuck up. And if there was ever a time to employ that skill, it was now. Now after he’d been frozen watching the two of you reunite after a close call. After he’d discovered your dirty little secret. Suddenly feeling like Icarus after flying too close to the sun. Hurtling back down to earth. He was certain that when he moved there would be a crater under his feet where his stomach dropped.

He’d gone so green that another nurse came up and gently tugged on his arm to see if he was alright. He snapped his jaw shut, nodding and mumbling something that didn’t sound anywhere near reassuring. But he forced himself to leave the medbay. Left the two of you behind the curtain, where in his final glance back he saw that your feet were still neatly on top of Ghost’s big boots. Pushed up on your toes to be able to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He made some excuse not to meet with you that evening. Could barely look you in the eye when you caught him in the hall, looking significantly more cheery than you had been that morning. You pried, asking if he was alright, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand, but he claimed the stress of their mission had just hit him and he really needed to sleep.

It took him weeks to get over the initial shock. Couldn’t stand next to Ghost during conditioning. Made a point of sitting catty-corner to him during meetings and in transit so he had the least chances of accidentally catching his eye. Feeling like he’d deeply bastardized the idea of ‘Ghost.’ Blurred the lines between the man Gaz knew and the man he was in private.

He tried to reason with himself. Keep it fresh in his mind that he’d seen the signs, just hadn’t been able to fully connect the dots by himself. And it was an accident. He’d never intentionally pry into either of your personal lives like that. It wasn’t in his character. There was nothing innately wrong with the two of you hiding a marriage. Probably would have been an HR nightmare. Gotten both of you re-stationed. He was certain you both had a good reason to hide it. And there was no better person to find out than him. He’d actually be able to keep it a secret. Soap would immediately run his mouth. Get on the intercoms and scream the news as loud as he could. Price would pull the both of you aside and try to have some heart-to-heart. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice, it just would have felt too forced. Wouldn’t have served any real purpose.

So eventually he gets over it. Never pressed you about your marriage again, and you never seemed too keen on following up his request from months ago. The dust settles in his mind. He shelves the information like an old book. Life goes on.

And then the weather turns. Starts getting colder. The first few weeks of cold after summer where the wind stings a little more. Finds it’s way through jackets and uniforms a little more artfully. Soldiers are catching ill and passing it around like it’s a competition of who can infect the entire base. The medbay is busy, but a different kind of busy than summer when it’s an optimal time to see missions through.

The medics are tasked with rounding up all the soldiers on base and issuing flu vaccines to hopefully prevent further spread. You trudge to Price’s office in the early morning. He notices you look a little pale. The rims of your eyes and tip of your nose are blotchy. A gentle shade of pink that he assumes is from the weather or the cold you were bound to catch. You chat for a bit, catch up because you haven’t had the opportunity for a few weeks. Let him know that he and the boys need to make their way to the bay for their shots at some point.

You feel a little woozy. Pressing into his doorframe for support, white-knuckling it to keep yourself from swaying in your spot. He looks a little concerned. Asks if you need to take a few days away to recoup. You wave him off, tell him it’s nothing you can’t handle, but he insists on walking you back to medbay. And he’s glad he did because on the short walk back you find yourself having to duck into a dark meeting room so you can vomit into a trash can.

He keeps a steadying arm wrapped around your waist when you stumble back out into the hall. Shaking his head when you profusely apologize. Slowing his normally long strides so you were comfortable. Gently lets you down on your own cot and instructs you to stay where you are while he goes to find a few other doctors that can delegate your work for the day between them so you can have the day off.

He sends you home despite your protest. You’d already gotten your color back. Claimed you must’ve had something off to eat. He wasn’t having it. Said he wouldn’t have his best doctor spreading sick because she’s too stubborn to get off her feet for a few hours. He’s a bit more stern than usual because he knows you won’t listen otherwise, but he brings you a ginger ale and sits next to your bed until you’ve finished it.

Later that day, when he and the boys finally get around to the bay for vaccines, he notices the way Ghost’s eyes dart around like he was looking for something. His shoulders tensing when he sees your station empty, and moments after he’s taken his shot, Price sees that he’s slunk off to a corner to make a phone call.

He doesn’t think much of it. He’s been trying to give Ghost some space. So he just shrugs it off. Let’s him finish up whatever he’s doing before they get back to work.

The boys have gotten in the habit of taking a week off as the snow melts. Just before Spring brings rain and the soft buds of new leaves on the trees. Unofficial tradition proposed early on to have a few more days rest before things inevitably picked up again. Usually gave the boys time to kick off to visit family or get some well needed time away from base. Get in a well needed break because God knew they wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

Soap finds himself a little North of Manchester in his time off. Went out to see his godparents in Bolton for a couple days before getting back up to Iverness to see his parents. Meandering through a supermarket to pick up a bottle of wine for his godmother and a bottle of bourbon for himself. Could have sworn he saw Simon turning a corner at the end of the aisle. Chalked it up to a trick of the light. Seeing things after months of close quarters with his L.T.

But then he saw the man again. Stood in line at the butcher’s counter. No mask, but the same crooked nose and cropped blond hair. Same scar hooking his jaw. Swapped out his uniform and gear for a thick leather jacket, white shirt, and a pair of jeans. Would have been unrecognizable if Johnny didn’t know him so well.

He was about to head over to say hello. Make some wise crack about Ghost missing him too much, but he was stilled for a moment when a woman approached Simon. Pushed her cart up next to him and nudged his side with her hip. Prompted him to give her a small smile- the only smile Soap had ever seen Simon grace anyone with. No teeth, just a curve of his lips, but it changed his face completely.

Ghost said something to the woman. She reached up to fuss with the collar of his jacket. Johnny saw her shoulders shake slightly and heard the quiet tinkling sound of her laughter. Completely shell shocked. So imagine his surprise when the woman turned away from Ghost and it was you. Only you looked wildly different. He knew your face well enough, but after almost six months not going to the medbay on a weekly basis, something had changed.

Even wearing an oversized sweatshirt he could see the way it pulled taught against your swollen belly. Saw the way your arm was cradling it like second nature. He didn’t even realize that the bottle of wine had slipped from his fingers until he watched Simon’s head snap toward the sound. Ears perked. Tense like he’d suddenly flashed onto the battlefield. His eyes went wild for a moment as he scanned the busy aisle, calmed only a degree when he found you.

It’s like that Spider-Man meme where the three of them meet and point at each other. Johnny’s smiling sheepishly (for once), your jaw is dropped in surprise, and Simon is glaring daggers at Johnny like somehow it was his fault that you were all in the same place at once. You’re the first one to move. Rushing up to him as quickly as you could- now moving a bit awkwardly with the disproportionate weight of your pregnancy on your front. Asking if he was alright. Grabbing his hands to make sure the glass hadn’t cut him.

Simon tailed you like a hulking shadow. Glowering down at Soap something fucking ferocious. Didn’t even give him time to tell you he was fine. Pulling you back behind his arm by the wrists with a kind of gentleness Johnny had never known the L.T. to possess. You twisted your face in displeasure, batting his hands away and stepping back out from behind the wall that was your husband. Ignoring the wine and the soft crunch of glass under your shoes.

And to Soap’s absolute bafflement, Simon stood down. Didn’t try to yank you back, didn’t voice his protest, just drew his mouth into a hard line and let you push past him. He was speechless. For what well may have been the first time in his life, John MacTavish had no words. Couldn’t apologize for the mess. Couldn’t crack a joke. Couldn’t even say hello. He was pure dead at a loss.

Somehow, he allowed you to guide him away from the mess he’d made- staining the waxed tile a muted crimson even after the disgruntled looking employee came over to mop it up. Found his voice in your tugging him along after you and Simon to the checkout where you insisted you’d pay for the bottle of bourbon he’d managed not to send careening to the ground. Tried to tell you no, but you’d already sent it down the belt. And by the time you’d rooted through your purse in search of your card, Simon had already finished paying and was tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

Shuffled out with the two of you into the car park. Making a point of putting distance between himself and Simon who was pushing the cart with one hand and had the other planted firmly on the small of your back. Always walking on the side of oncoming traffic.

Johnny tried to keep up with your conversation. Asking him about his break. Where he was staying and for how long. How had he been. But it was tense. He could feel Ghost’s eyes on the back of his head. Burning through him. Making him feel like he had a target tacked to his skull.

He said a quick goodbye when Ghost helped you into the passenger seat of your car. You said you’d see him soon enough, said if he had any extra time before they went back he’d have to come by for dinner. Simon closed the door before you could say anything else. Looking monumentally irked.

The two men stood in suffocating silence while Simon unloaded the groceries into the trunk. Johnny tried to ignore the glinting of the silver band on the L.T’s finger. Caught the light every time he set a new bag in the back. A little unsure if he was being dismissed or if Ghost was just waiting until he was certain you wouldn’t hear the lashing he was bound to receive.

But it all stayed relatively calm. Maybe the eye of the hurricane. Simon pushed the bottle of bourbon into his chest before swinging the trunk shut.

“Appreciate if you’d keep this between us.”

Ghost spoke first, the words sounding a bit sticky in his throat- like they didn’t want to come out.

“‘Course.”

Johnny’s voice wasn’t much better. Both of them shifted on their feet. Not use to this kind of conversation. Uncomfortable being pushed from their usual dynamic.

Simon just nodded, moving to push the cart back to the corral. Johnny followed.

“How long you been keepin’ this in?”

“Which bit.”

His response was flat.

“Dinnae, L.T. Seems yer a man o’ mystery these days.”

Soap prodded, unable to help himself. A smile crept into his voice.

“Don’t push it.”

Simon bit back.

“Bonnie thing for a brute like you.”

“Johnny.”

“Looks ready’ta pop.”

A harsh sigh from Ghost. He reached into his jacket pocket like he was going for a cigarette. Tightening his jaw when his hand showed back up empty. He hummed his agreement.

“Few months.”

They’d reached Johnny’s car by this point. Just a few rows over in the car park. Stood by his driver’s side door shuffling their feet once more.

“Ken it’ll turn out like you?”

He couldn’t help but ask. Never pictured Ghost the fatherly type, but the idea was growing on him now that it’d been planted in his mind.

“Hope not.”

Simon gruffed back. Johnny snorted.

“Boy o’ girl?”

This earned him a nasty look, but he figured he was in deep enough as it was. No harm in asking.

“Girls.”

#this had me giiiiiiiiiggling and kicking my feet anon thank you #self indulgent dad!simon fluff #picturing him with twin baby girls I’m tearing my hair out holy shit #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #secret wife

2K notes · View notes

mylovejimimi · 1 year ago

Text

When three is a party, and you're the piñata | TH&JK ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: boyfriend!taehyung x fem!reader x bf'sbestfriend!jungkook — GENRE: smut +18. minors dni — WARNINGS: teasing, dirty talk, a threesome (duh), vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m receiving/giving), mild ass play, pussy slapping (but like two or so), ass slapping (like three times), LOTS of fluids, LOTS of spit (not apologizing lmao), breast playing, kinda dom!tae and dom!kook, a tiny tiny twinge of mxm, a lil angsty at some point but fluffy at the end, reader is bamboozled lol — SUMMARY: Jungkook disliked you, that's for sure. Then, why is he insinuating he wants to fuck you? And why did your boyfriend simply invited him to your bed to do so (or, better said, do you)? — WORDS: 8k (oopsy) Maybe I went a little overboard with this one lol but i added some plot!!! It came out a lot tamer than I thought tho and I changed some bits but I hope you like it anon!! I enjoyed writing the wild smut lmao Anyways please remember you can send me a tip by buying me a ko-fi if you like my works, it will meant the world to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Ever since you met the boys, their own friendship dynamics were as clear as the shots of vodka Jimin made you gulp down on weekends. Sometimes, Jin and Yoongi would go for a drink and complain about their ages and the youngest and things like that; in that same way, Jin would drag Jimin to a wine testing, or Yoongi would be cooped up with Namjoon in the studio, or Hoseok would help the two eldest with choreographies, or the maknaes would go shopping with Hoseok and so on. It was obvious to you that they had a very strong bond and had some kind of symbiotic relationship. But out of all of them, the two youngest seemed to be the more symbiotic of all.

When Hoseok introduced you to the group, you all clicked just as fast as you had clicked with Hoseok before (which was why he thought you should meet his friends). Soon enough, you were one of them, all eight of you inseparable – until Taehyung confessed his feelings for you, and you kind of been crushing hard on him the whole time. So, there began the first relationship in a big group of single men, and so, things had to shift a little to accommodate a couple. You were relieved, though, because the boys had taken it very well and were all happy and rooting for the both of you – well, almost all of them.

You never felt any animosity between you and Jungkook, though you always felt he didn’t like you as much as the rest. He was rather indifferent to you, in your humble opinion. Oh, but once you started dating Taehyung, his bestest friend in life? Just then you understood what real animosity was like: whenever you were around the boys, Jungkook would either talk to you curtly and unfriendly or not acknowledge your presence at all; other times he would just glare at you, making you feel self-conscious, even that one time in summer when you put on a new sundress and everybody complimented you and you felt pretty for once; and he even went as far as excusing himself to escape to the bathroom whenever you sat down next to him. Of course, you attributed this one-sided rivalry to that fantastic decision to fall in love with his best friend and taking him away from him, but you always made sure to never talk to Taehyung about the way Jungkook seemed to hate you, to avoid unnecessary conflicts.

But then one night...

“Y/N” Jimin sang, in his drunken state of being. “Can you be a dear and bring more beer?”

“Why me? You just told Jungkook to do it.” Just as tipsy, your reply sounded whiner than you wanted, but you met Jimin’s gaze with a frown. Then, you looked at Jungkook, completely inhibited when you said: “He told you to do it.”

“I don’t want to. Got a problem with it?” You gaped at the maknae’s answer, but you would not let yourself be ran over by this big brat of a boy.

“Yes, I have a problem with it. Move your fucking ass or I will move it.” The other boys shouted a collective ‘ohhhh’ at the exchange. Okay, maybe you were going a little bit too far with your attitude but you had lost count of how many drinks you downed and that was enough to excuse your attitude. “Get the fucking beers.”

“Come here and make me” he spitted, holding your stare from across the room. And just to provoke you further, he sat comfortably against the sofa, spreading his legs and tilting his chin to you. You felt some kind of way because in any other person, it would be a suggestive invitation. He even put his hand on his crotch! But it was Jungkook, so you didn’t think much of it.

“Oh, you better be sure I will.” However, before you could get up to do God knows what, Yoongi stepped in.

“I will go, you brats” he sighed, getting up from his seat. Your eyes didn’t left Jungkook’s though, and neither did his, even arching his brow to you. You scoffed and looked at your boyfriend beside you.

“Well, thank you Jungkook and Y/N for that interesting exchange. But I wanted to propose a little game to keep up the good spirits” Jimin smiled brightly and devilish directly at you. Your heart dropped a little. Park Jimin usually had the power of making you expose yourself, just because you were hot-headed and argumentative. “Do you all remember that game we played once, where we had to tease each other until one caved in? I mean, now we have a girl, it should be more entertaining.” Oh no. Your boyfriend squeezed your sides.

“I won’t play” you said, crossing your arms. “TaeTae?” But your lover ignored you in favor of smiling at Jimin.

“Why not? Are you afraid, Y/N? Afraid I might steal your man?” Jimin taunted you. He looked at Jungkook, before looking at you again. “Or are you afraid of being teased by Jungkookie?”

“What?!” You were genuinely startled at his insinuation. Another chorus of ‘ohhh’ filled the room. What was going on with these guys? “I’m not. I will play your stupid game.”

“Then, why don’t you sit beside our maknae and start the round?” And Jimin smiled like the Cheshire cat. Why was he so pressing about Jungkook? Was it because you snapped back at him earlier? Because of your general distance towards him? Jimin was sadist enough to laugh at his friends struggling; it could be anything.

You got up to sit near Jungkook, not close enough to be in his personal space, though you were expecting him to glare at you as always. But he didn’t. In fact, he looked at you briefly and gave you a small smile. Was he taunting you too?

“Y/N” Jungkook began, starry eyes shiny with drunken glow on yours, equally shiny and glowing. He moved one of your locks behind your shoulder. “Do you still enjoy getting it from behind like you said once?” The question came in a low, low tone, accompanied by a sleazy smile. He started strong but you didn’t budge.

“I do. Wanna try it? Want me to peg you?” You smiled, tilting your head sweetly. Once more, your public reacted in chorus.

“If I get to put something between those two, then yes.” And he ogled at your breast, causing your nipples to harden just a twinge.

“But could you? Won’t you wet your pants just by talking to a woman?” His eyes darkened and you felt the physical need to bit your lip.

“Leave it to me and the only wet things here would be my tongue and you.” A smirk and a wink but with a completely serious tone – like it was an invitation and a promise. The guys went crazy, laughing and shouting things you didn’t get. If you didn’t know better, your alcohol-induced reasoning would tell you that Jungkook was kinda flirting with you. Why was your boyfriend just laughing about it?

“You sure about that? You always look like you don’t know what is a pussy. Want me to show you one and give you a blowie out of pity?” He scoffed, now getting agitated. You tried to ignore how he flexed his muscles and when he tensed his jaw – but it was near impossible to ignore the way he rearranged his bulge mindlessly.

“I do know, baby.” In his growling voice, the pet name sounded almost menacing… and very exhilarating. Deep down you, you wanted to keep hearing him calling you all sorts of names. “And I’m not your boyfriend. A ‘blowie’ is not enough for what I have here.”

“Yah! Don’t bring me into your dumb beach off” your boyfriend complained with a pout. Running out of ideas, you drank the half glass of whiskey that Yoongi left on the coffee table, expecting to get creative once the alcohol got on your bloodstream. You saw Jungkook mirror you with his beer.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you continued. “I’m actually looking at your boner right now and it is very underwhelming.” Jimin cackled at that, the rest of them giggled. Jungkook had the tip of his ears red.

“Let me shut your mouth with it and see if it is that underwhelming,” and he put his big hand on your knee, squeezing. “babygirl.”

You inhaled deeply, because his hand was not only on you. No no, Jungkook played dirty and started stroking your thigh up and down subtlety. Was it bad? Yes, absolutely, because you felt a tingling between your legs and a confusing desire to be touched. But bad enough to accept defeat? Absolutely no. Instead of caving in, you changed strategies: you smiled your seductive smile, and placed your hand softly on his biceps.

“Is it as big as your arms, Jungkookie? You promise to make me choke on it?” His hand on you faltered. Everybody was silent for some reason. “You promise to make me swallow my words while I swallow it?” Those even weren’t the biggest weapons in your arsenal, and yet it had the effect you wanted: Jungkook stood up and almost ran to the bathroom.

“You think he went to jack off?” Hoseok asked Jin, who nodded.

“Yah!” you yelled at them. “Jimin, your game is shit.” You were in serious need of a drink that wasn’t alcohol-based, so you stood up and went to the kitchen, catching a ‘but it was real fun to me’ from Jimin in your way out.

“Looks like you and Jungkookie are having fun together, uh?” your boyfriend said casually, coming behind you. You scoffed.

“If you can call that fun,” you grunted, taking a sip from a random water bottle you found on the counter. You needed anything that could calm you down. “Whatever, at least he seems to be loosing up. I don’t know, he’s a dumbass but I rather have him talking bullshit than to be shy and silent around me.” Taehyung smirked and looked at you intently, as if he was internally laughing at you because of something you don’t know. And you know your boyfriend. He was definitely laughing internally at you because of something you don’t know. You frowned. “What is it?”

“What is what?” Taehyung replied, smirk intact, while getting close enough to you to put every inch of his front against yours and his hands on your waist. Suddenly, the air shifted, and new tensions began arising between your two bodies. Despite being in someone else’s home, you would be lying if you denied how your boyfriend was turning you on.

“Why are you laughing at my expense?” He did laugh at that, eclipsing your clarity for a moment with that beautiful laughter that you adored since the first time.

“I just love your innocence.” His hands ascended under your shirt from their place on your waist to the underside of your boobs, nearly cupping them, making your breath hitch. You were way too conscious of being in Hoseok’s kitchen, looking at the door while Taehyung touched you almost indecently, but his eyes never strayed from your face. “Look what you did, baby: you made me hard at my friends’ gathering with that silly game and your silly, bratty mouth.” And he thrusted a little, so you would feel his fattened and restrained member on you.

As soon as you opened your mouth to cuss at him for his antics, your boyfriend wasted not even a second to put his mouth and yours, dizzying you with a kiss that you doubted was appropriate to experience in someone else’s kitchen. His mouth was way too enthusiastic, his touch all over your body, and you knew it was not leading to a normal quickie. No, he was properly devouring you whole; sucking at your lips, tongue trying to go deeper inside your cavity, hands moving all the way down to knead your ass. You tried wondering what had him so worked up but your mind couldn’t focus on nothing but his tongue in your mouth, deliciously licking everywhere inside – and you had no choice but to reciprocate with the same intensity. You couldn’t judge your boyfriend, because you were just as worked up yourself. Playing with Jungkook was fun at first but then it became serious. And so did the situation in your panties: the moment he put his strong hand on your knee? You felt yourself getting slightly wet, whole core warming… which you knew was completely fucked up. Shame woke you up when Tae’s fingertips went under your skirt and made contact with your inner thigh.

“Taehyung!” you whisper-shouted once you separated from his face, but his hands stayed firmly on your body. “It’s rude to be doing this here.”

“But, baby…” he whined and moved a calculated inch so you could feel his very rigid bulge on your upper thigh. No, as much as you wanted it, it was not right to do it at your friend’s place. You still had some dignity.

“No, seriously, what if someone walks in and sees us like this?” And of course, the universe wanted its turn to laugh at you, because in that exact moment your words were commands. Jungkook entered the kitchen looking at his phone, immediately lifting his head at your words, watching you in all your glorious just-made-out-hotly, lipstick-stained face, boyfriend’s hands under your clothes. He was paralyzed, you were paralyzed, and Taehyung snorted. Not knowing what to do, you just blurted an “I’ll go to the bathroom”, and flew the scene.

…

On the way back home, once the alcohol’s effects wore out, you couldn’t stop thinking about everything that transpired between you and Jungkook. It was mostly playful, none of it insinuating — not even the touch on your knee. And here you were, twisting it for some sort of unconscious reason. Did you like Jungkook? Did you not love Taehyung anymore? How could you be so disgusting? It was undeniable how your body reacted to the maknae, getting weak with nothing more than a simple touch. What kind of girlfriend that made you? The cheating, slutty one for sure. You felt like crying, guilt eating you up fast.

“You had been very quiet since the thing in the kitchen, love.” Tae mentioned when you left your shoes at his apartment door. You turned around to look at him absently, and he smiled tenderly to you, caressing your face. “Everything alright? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, baby, it was not that serious. I’m fine.” You lied. Unable to bear the loving look in your boyfriend’s eyes, you turned on your heels and headed towards his room, ready to hide underneath the covers forever. You were so bad at pretending.

The guilt and growing sadness were bad enough that you skipped your skincare, taking your make up off with a wet towel and going to bed on a shirt that was laying around and panties, instead of your precious silk pajama that matched Taehyung’s. By the time your lover got under the covers, you were on your side at the verge of crying, not wanting to see his face or else you would break down right there.

“My angel,” Tae started whispering on your ear. “I don’t know what’s wrong but just know that you can tell me whenever you’re ready.” You have to tell him, your conscience kept urging you. You had to tell him. It was so wrong and you knew it would break his heart, but all the love you had for him was enough motivation to tell the truth.

You shifted and faced him, your whole heart shrinking at the pure love that was on his face. All that love for you. And you ruined it.

As much as you wanted, no words left your mouth, but it was not needed because Taehyung kissed you, slowly, lovingly. It would be the last time, so you decided to enjoy it. You would miss the way he was nipping at your lower lip, probing it with the tip of his tongue for you to give him access. You would miss the way his hands always go directly to massage your breasts, his favorite habit since that one time you told him they were sensitive. You would miss the way he couldn’t resist you, hating to waste time with too much teasing, being the most efficient and desperate lover you had.

In no time, he threw the covers to the edge of the bed, caging you with his thighs between his warm body and the mattress. His mouth left yours to kiss a wet trail towards your neck, nipping and lapping from the spot under your ear to the point where your neck and shoulder met. You whined, because your neck was pretty sensitive too, and it only served to spur him on. He decided that near the base of your neck was a good place for hickies, so he sucked enthusiastically, kitten-licking the tender marks. While his mouth worked on your upper body, his always wandering hand caressed all its way to your panties, took them off in one movement and shamelessly pressed two fingers in your center. You hadn’t realized until that very moment that you were drenched.

“Shit, baby, what has you this wet already?” Taehyung exhaled in a deep, deep voice. Oh no. The spike in your hormones dropped suddenly and your whole body grew cold and rigid. You remembered and the emotions buried you like an avalanche. A sob escaped you, followed by tears and more sobs. “Love, love, wait, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.”

“I- I can’t tell you. You will hate me…” you mumbled. Taehyung never stopped fondling your folds thru the panties.

“I could never hate you, baby. Not even if you leave me, not even if you fuck my best friend.” You looked at him like a deer in headlights, tensing from head to toe. He picked up the change in your energy and, honestly, deep down, he was enjoying the situation a little, tremendously excited for the surprise he had for you. Despite your reaction, he slowly stroked your folds, soaking his hold hand in your wetness. “Babe? Something to tell me? Maybe that Jungkookie made you wet tonight?” It was not possible to open more your eyes and yet, you did. Your heart was about to explode, scared shitless for being caught.

“N-no, no…” you mumbled, suddenly losing your capacity for communicating. So many things you wanted to say, apologies in every language, and the only thing you could do was to let out tiny tears at the corners of your eyes. To spice things up, Taehyung took the liberty of putting one finger on your clit, drawing circles. You inhaled sharply, electricity running thru every nerve in your body.

“Angel, don’t lie to me. I saw the whole thing. He was after you as he had always been, but our little Jungkookie can’t keep jerking off to the memory of you in a sundress forever, don’t you think?” You gaped at him, partially for his mastered skills on your pussy, partially for all the information he was dropping on you. After you? Always been? The sundress episode?! Your boyfriend gave you The Look: that look that promised to give you something so wicked but oh so fucking good, that you will be on the clouds for days.

He simply smiled at you, as sweet as ever. You sensed something big was about to happen.

“Babe, do you think you could handle both of us? Or is my baby too weak to take two cocks at the same time?” Blank. Nothing. Not even a fleeting, coherent thought crossed your mind. Of all things that could have come out of your boyfriend’s mouth, the most unexpected of them did. You had to ask to yourself in all seriousness if you weren’t hallucinating. Would your boyfriend Kim Taehyung really be up for a threesome? Yes, it was in character with him. With a friend of his? Well, he was a person that relied a lot on trust, so it would obviously be someone he trusted much like a friend. But with Jungkook? You never considered it.

You were too slow to reply to your boyfriend, it seemed, because he took his wet hand off your pussy and slapped you lightly on the thigh. It surprised you but sure took you out of all trance.

“I asked you something, doll. Are you too dumb to reply yes or no?” Oh. Oh. He was getting on that mood, one kink at the time. Generally, his domineering and demeaning attitude were enticing enough to get you going. That night was not exception. You gulped, your heart racing like never before. “Would you want Jungkook to join us or not?” His words were stern but he was the love of your life, you could read him better than anyone on earth, and in his eyes you saw the tenderness and love he always had for you. He wasn’t pressuring you, that was for sure. So, you found the confidence to confess your sins, and to agree to sin even more.

“Yes, Taehyung” you whispered because, how right was admitting out loud that you also wanted Jungkook? Though you couldn’t understand why he was looking for an answer so earnestly. His eyes darkened in no time; an enigmatic smile graced his beautiful face. Why did it feel like you just sold your soul to the devil?

He pressed a desperate kiss on your lips, condensing all the excitement and lust that involved the prospect of a threesome. Holy shit, you thought. He wanted a threesome this bad?

“Baby,” he said, kissing one last time “you just made two men happy, and am sure you are about to give us one hell of a night.” You smiled at him, happy that he was that overjoyed – until you let his words sink.

“About to…?” You frowned and, as always, he just smiled.

“Jungkookie!” your boyfriend yelled loudly; loud enough for someone outside the room to hear.

By instinct only, you looked at the door: lo and behold, the Jeon Jungkook opened it slowly, with his big Bambi eyes looking at the floor and his lower lip between his teeth. Your heart dropped to the first floor of the building. What was happening?

“Yah, Jungkook, did you come to fuck my floor or to fuck my girlfriend?” Your eyes were on your boyfriend on an instant, red all over your face. “Look how pretty she looks, all dumb and lost. And she is so wet already that both of us could slip in right now and she would just take it.” His words weren’t that dirty and yet, your body responded to his voice almost on command. Before Taehyung, you weren’t very fond of dirty talk, but the man made it his mission to find the right combination of words, the right timbre of his voice, that would work on you. And he was always successful on whatever he set his mind on.

You saw Jungkook taking a seat on the loveseat Taehyung kept on his room, diagonal to the bed to have the best view. His eyes were anywhere until they arrived on you, a fire burning on you as soon as you saw the arousal written on his face. Never in your life had you felt so much energy contained in a room, thick and suffocating: the heat of three young people that wanted nothing more than to jump at each other’s bones. You bite your lip, because desperation was overpowering your reason. You needed something, everything, whatever they could give you. You looked at your boyfriend, the only one that knew how to proceed, he looked back.

“Doll, I have to warn you. It’s been so long since Jungkookie wetted his dick that he probably will be like a dog in heat once he gets a taste of your pussy, so brace yourself and whenever you want to stop, we stop, all clear?” You nodded. “Good, all of us will use the color system so we’re all on the same page, do you understand me?” The question was directed at Jungkook, who nodded eagerly. Tae was silent for a moment, clearly thinking, and then he doubled the bet. “Jungkookie, get that seat closer to the bed. Closer. Yeah, right by our side.” And now you had your boyfriend’s best friend right by your side, as if he was about to examinate your body being fucked and needed to pay close attention to details. Well, yeah, that’s what was going to happen.

It was it. Everything was ready and set to start. For some reason, desperation evaporated instantly and nervousness took over your body, hands growing cold and heart jumping like crazy. You had never had someone watching you have sex, much less in a threesome. What if you did something awkward? What if you make him uncomfortable in some way? What if you can’t balance out right and end up giving more attention to Jungkook than your boyfriend? You would prefer to take your eyeballs out and eat them than to make your loverboy believe that you don’t want him. However, just as you read him expertly, so he does you, catching your worries as soon as they appear.

“Babe, you don’t need to worry about anything. This is for you more than for any of us. Just let yourself be, we will do the rest, okay?” You nodded, and the deal was sealed. Tae smiled once more before diving for a deep, wet kiss. It was so dizzyingly good, the expertise he had on kissing. His tongue entered your mouth again for a short time, before making the same path it did before, this time towards your breasts.

“Don’t- don’t take her shirt off” Jungkook stuttered gravelly, out of nowhere. Taehyung smirked at him. You frowned slightly.

“Why? Because you want to see me fuck my girlfriend while she’s wearing your shirt? You’re a pervert, man.” Your heart skipped a beat. Shirt? You went to sleep almost naked in Jungkook’s shirt? Your wide eyes questioned your boyfriend. “Baby, I had never worn that shirt in my life, Jungkookie left it here when he stayed over last week.” Stopping you from overthinking any more, he resumed where he left.

Taehyung had a specific routine for your boobs. Just like in that moment, he would suck lightly here and there, alternating between the two mounds. Then, he would lick one of them to the nipple, blowing air on it and giving you goosebumps, just to hear you whimpering. Finally, he would take the nipple inside his mouth for real; savoring it, licking it with his broad, hot tongue, moistening your chest with the saliva he let drip from time to time. And after he makes sure one of your breasts was as soaked as your panties, he goes for the other one and gives it the same treatment. It was messy and dirty and you both loved it.

This time, as your boyfriend finished one side and went to the other, you made the (lucky) mistake of looking at Jungkook. Damn, if he wasn’t a sight. Legs spread, hands on his inner thighs, and oh, his face. His face was enough to induce anybody into an early cum. He looked shaken already, with lips pink and parted enough to catch a glimpse of the saliva gathering there, clearly wanting to be in the place of your boyfriend; and his dark, lustful eyes were fixated solely on your chest, about to jump on you and feast on your body, nose exhaling shakily. It was the second man in your life that looked at you with such unbridled desire, the first one still entertained on your chest. The maknae must have felt you staring at him because his dark gaze shifted and now fixed on yours.

When did this man turned from the indifferent, jealous guy to this hot, hungry-for-you man? You didn’t know if it was your imagination but it was as if his eyes expressed every thing he wanted to do to you. I want to rip your clothes, you felt he thought, I wanna lick and suck and mark with my spit every inch of your body; I wanna open your legs and bury my head there, drink every drop of your sweet juices, make you come only with my tongue inside you, suck and lick your clit until you pass out but keep cumming; I wanna fuck all your holes, make you cry my name, choke you on my cock while I fuck your mouth so hard and my cum leaks from every hole in your body. Taehyung lifted his hear from your boob.

“Fuck dude, you been watching hentai again? That’s some hardcore shit and you recited it like a love poem. Even I got wet.” Oh, so you weren’t imagining it. Jungkook grew red like the ripest of tomatoes but his stare didn’t waver: his words were all for you to hear. You were… flattered, maybe? Definitely turned on, visualizing already all those things he mentioned. And Tae, the omnipresent-omnipotent boyfriend, noticed. “Babe, no. You won’t be an easy slut yet, not when the owner of this cunt is present.” And his mouth went down south, directly to latch on said pussy, slurping noisily at your drenched folds.

The moan you let out was loud and it didn’t stop, because your boyfriend suctioned just as loud, getting the tip of his tongue on your entrance to tease you. Your pussy tickled intensely, and you got a grip of Taehyung’s locks, pulling, which made him moan too. It was all too good. You could already taste the beginning of a climax…

And you don’t know when it happened but you suddenly felt something hot, fat, and hard on your unoccupied hand. You tensed and opened your eyes just to find Jungkook with his big, glorious cock out in the open, guiding your hand up and down on it. Your eyes connected again for a moment, before he licked his lower lip and threw his head back, moaning too. You could recognize when a guy put on a show for you, and it was exactly that what the man did, with his straining neck and tensed abs – that just now realized were visible, thanks to his open shirt. All this stimulation on you and yet it didn’t feel enough, so you couldn’t help but whine at the two men.

Both of them looked at you at the same time, Tae zeroing on your sloppy handjob with surprise. He now looked at his friend and adjusted his bulge in his pants while he said:

“So, the golden maknae wants to compete? With me? The unbeaten slayer of this pussy? Let’s fucking go.” Oh no, Taehyung was in a playful mood – That only could mean you were going to have a long, long night. Not a breath passed and your boyfriend had a finger up your entrance already and his thumb working on your clit. That angle always got him to that particular nerve on your clit that made you see stars, and what more advantage in their little competition that having you writhing and moaning non-stop. Your body was no longer yours. You accepted this fate happily.

Your eyes were closed when you felt a different shape on your left hand – the one that was on Jungkook. You looked at him just in time to see him take your wrist and pulling your hand away from his balls, getting your palm near his face so he could spit on it, and then taking it back to fondle his testicles. Your breath caught in your throat and warmth spread all over your chest. It was the new hottest thing you have seen in your life. Jungkook only smiled proudly at you.

Taehyung, who was also watching the spit show, scoffed and dived between your legs. His tongue accompanied his finger inside you, going out to lap at your clit here and there. One long finger became two, then three and all of them scissored, opening you up more and more until you could take those fingers and his thick tongue easily. One particular lick made you flex all your muscles, your left hand closing tight on Jungkook’s cock. You groaned, he sucked in a breath, your boyfriend slurped noisily again.

“Angel,” Taehyung began, sitting on his hunches. You felt more wetness dripping as you ogled at him in all his pussy-eating glory. Face soaked, hair disheveled, eyes in ectasis. He even licked his lips, collecting the juices you left on him. “do you think you could take more?” You nodded in a heartbeat. “Okay, so go suck Jungkookie’s cock while I get your pussy ready, alright?” This time, he didn’t spare you even one second to think before maneuvering you on your hands and knees, the maknae sitting on your bed and your head hanging over his red tip. Your boyfriend caressed your asscheeks from behind, getting a mewl from you and slapping you hard right away. “Get to work, slut.” Following his words, he licked a long strip from your clit to your wrinkled asshole.

But you still didn’t get to work on Jungkook, so your boyfriend gripped your hair from behind and pushed your head down, making you engulf the meaty length in front of you in one go. You choked, of course, gurgling and trying to swallow with a closed-up throat. The grip on his member made Jungkook moan and put his hand on your head, to keep you in place. You relaxed a little, allowing a smoother slide of him in your mouth, now taking control and hollowing your cheeks. Your tongue swirled around the whole diameter of his beefy cock, which was bigger and heavier than you initially thought, and then suctioned hard. The tip of your tongue teased his slit and the sides of his head, salivating more and more the longer you had him in your mouth. You guessed the maknae liked your blowjob technique because he seemed uncapable of stopping whining and writhing.

“Jungkookie” your boyfriend sing-sang suddenly. The maknae was barely able to maintain his eyes on him. “Tell me how is my baby doing. Do you like it? She sucks cocks like a champ.” It was difficult with his member buried to the hilt in your face but you still made an attempt to look up at the man. His eyes found yours and you felt more precum dribble inside your mouth. “But you seem too shy still. Why don’t you try living up your fantasies and fuck her mouth? I promise, she was born to take cocks.” You could feel Taehyung’s hands spreading open your buttcheeks, and then his tongue flitting over your puckered hole. Your breath caught in you and you had to let go of the dick to moan loud and long.

“You, uh – you focus on me, Y/N” Jungkook stumbled upon his own words, but didn’t waste time in taking your head with his two hands and pushing you down onto him again, which you gladly accepted. He tried snapping his hips up slightly, making you moan and send vibrations on his cock. That’s all he needed to fuck up into your mouth again, making you gag, eyes watering. “Yeah, fuck” he breathed out while speeding up his hips. Cock pushing your jaw wide open, you mewled as much as you could, enjoying the rough treatment and encouraging the man to give you more. “Shit, hyung, her mouth is amazing.”

“I told you, and wait until you taste her pussy” your boyfriend replied, voice low and raspy and touching your pussy in that same manner. With no warning, Taehyung’s cock prods a few times at your entrance before he thrusts in, pushing all air out of you. It was intense, your insides pulsing with the girth and length of your boyfriend’s member, and then the cock in your mouth throbbed too. “Talk to her, JK, she loves it.” He grabbed you by your hair again, yanking you up until you were face to face with his best friend. “Especially if you tell her what a filthy slut she is, and all the bad things you are going to do to her.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook started, looking directing into your soul. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth and you’re gonna drink it and say thank you, ok?” He sounded so serious that chills covered your whole body, and his command was so hot but he gave you no time to dwell on it because he shoved his cock in you.

“Bravo!” Taehyung celebrated with a rough snap of his hips into you. You gobbled the cock as much as he allowed you, which wasn’t much with the speed and harshness of his thrusts into your face. “Aww, doll, we found a good use for you as our cumdump, isn’t that lovely? Jk, make the honors of creampieing her mouth.” And he fucks up into you hard, making you move forward and choke on Jungkook. The stretch burns deliciously and you can’t help but moan, throat tight and vibrating on the cock you were sucking.

Jungkook cums at that, releasing ropes and ropes on your mouth while still fucking into it. The movements difficulted your swallowing, so most of it leaked from the corners of your lips. He whined at the sounds of you gargling. And in the heat of the moment, the maknae said:

“Yeah, fuck, slobber it all up, slut. You love being filled with cum until it spills, don’t you? That’s all what whores like you are for, anyways.” In an instant, your boyfriend, who kept fucking you frantically from behind, yanks you up with a hand around your neck until your back arched against his chest. From that angle, his cock reached new places inside you, making you scream and spill the remnants of Jungkook’s cum you didn’t get to swallow. Tae got close enough to your ear to suck at your lobe. It all was so overwhelming, you had to close your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Are you going to be an ungrateful bitch or are you going to thank JK for cleansing your disgusting mouth?” He took your jaw and moved it so you were facing down.

You opened your eyes to catch a glimpse of Jungkook moving towards you, but your brain couldn’t process anything until you felt his mouth on your clit. With every thrust, Taehyung grinded you over his best friend outstretched tongue, who moaned eagerly. Seeing you forgot what he just said, your boyfriend gave you a particularly harsh thrust, which made your whole pussy smash on the broad expanse of the tongue working on you. You screamed.

“Say thank you, you fucking whore. Are you that stupid that a little fuck breaks you?” You whimpered.

“Thank you, Jungkook” you said shakily, and that devil of a man smiled up devilish at you, before nibbling and sucking at your clit. And you came, squirting like a faucet right on the maknae’s face and neck.

“Holy fuck!” Jungkook exclaimed, lower part of his face drenched and dripping from the chin. His pupils were blown out, looking bigger and more menacing than ever before.

Your body lost all strength, becoming jelly in Taehyung’s arms, who didn’t stop assaulting your pussy. You tried squeezing your walls to bring him closer to climax, but the man had way too much endurance.

Instead of slowing down or getting sloppy, Tae descended on his ass, taking you with him to the bed head and accommodating you on his lap. While his cock was still into you, he moved you around like a rag doll so he could fold you in half, his hands coming under your thighs and lifting them, knees hooked on his forearms easily. He’s got you spread wide open, showing Jungkook how his cock went in and out of your dripping cunt. You wanted to whine and complain about overstimulation, but the reality was that the friction of Tae’s long and thick cock was so delectable that you felt a second release nearing already.

Jungkook’s eyes stared brazenly the place where you and Taehyung were connected, entranced by the easy slide in and out in your moistened pussy. Carefully, he put his hand on your used folds, stroking reverently the flesh all around where his best friend’s member was, and then his thumb went to your clit. You exhaled his name. He, in return, slapped your pussy.

“What a filthy bitch, moaning other man’s name while your boyfriend is fucking you” he reprimanded you, fingers still on your wetness. He shifted forward a little to be aligned with your pussy so he could spit on it, watching his saliva running down and disappearing between your folds and Tae’s cock. You moaned again. This time, it was Taehyung who reprimanded you with a harsh slap on your ass.

“Is playing with your pussy all it takes for you to let anybody use you? Stupid slut, offering your loose cunt to Jungkookie, dirtied and sloppy with your own juices. You’re too filthy, baby, we will have to cleanse you.” Then, your boyfriend unhooked your leg from his arm, and went to hold your jaw, turning you to face him, and dived in as if to kiss you – but before descending on you, he put pressure to make you open your mouth and just then let a dribble of saliva drop into your awaiting tongue. “Don’t swallow” he commanded, before offering your open cavity to Jungkook to do the same as him. The other man spitted with force, and got close enough to suck your lower lip into his mouth while Tae controlled you still. Your pussy throbbed and tightened on your boyfriend.

But they didn’t stop there. As your boyfriend went down on your neck and sucked and lapped sloppily, Jungkook went to your chest, dribbling more and more of his spit on your breasts, before capturing your nipples and nibbling them. You were so lost in the mess they were making of you that you almost miss the sensation of something tapping at the hole that was already filled.

You look down and can perfectly see the way Jungkook’s tip was pushing between your folds and Taehyung’s dick, like waiting for an invitation in. Even in the heat of the moment, you realized that maybe it was too much to fit the two of them inside you, looking at the girth of their cocks, and you panicked.

“It won’t be like that, don’t worry” your boyfriend, who sensed right away your worry, whispered in your ear. You relaxed, trusting him with your life.

Next thing you knew was that he lifted you from his cock, just to take your hand and make you guide Jungkook inside you. Your insides couldn’t stop throbbing; he was a little shorter than Tae but his girth, god damn, it barely could fit inside, even with your pussy as loose as your boyfriend’s own beefy cock made you. It took you a moment but as soon as he started thrusting, you moaned uncontrollably. Now you understood their plan: they took turns fucking into you, thrusting up a couple times before taking their cocks out and letting the other fuck your hole. You were really getting used by them as a mere hole to share, which was incredibly turning on.

All of you were reaching your peaks, movements growing erratic and wild. At some point, Jungkook took his cock out of you and started thrusting into his own hand, precum still falling over your mound. Taehyung was almost there, and so were you, both of you needing one last little thing to tip you over the edge.

“Jungkook.” The richness of your lover’s voice made you tremble. You didn’t realize you had your eyes close, but once you open them, you find Jungkook scooting over, his lips getting closer and closer to yours. Just when you thought he was about to kiss you, he goes past you, and you get to watch the single hottest image you had ever seen: Jungkook went in and kissed Taehyung. And at that same time, Jungkook’s tip nudged its way inside you, besides Tae’s cock.

You came like never before, so hard that all your lights went out.

…

You open your eyes once you hear whispering around you. First, you realize you’re on your bed, underneath the fluffy covers you love. Then, you realize you’re sandwiched between two strong, warm bodies (which makes you feel kinda giddy inside). You focus your gaze on the face in front of you. It’s your boyfriend, smiling as always.

“Hi, love” he says sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? Like you came back from heaven after being killer by a sixteen-wheeled truck running over you. Your body ached all over from exerting so much energy trying to keep up with your boyfriend, but it brought you so much pleasure that you still felt the vanishing ripples of your orgasm swirling in your insides.

“I’m okay” you simply responded. From behind you, you felt a warm body molding to yours, his arms hugging your hips lightly and his face nuzzling into your hair.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook sweetly asked in your ear. His voice sent goosebumps.

“It was all for you, love. Jungkookie sure put you in the spot at Hobi’s place, he had to make it better somehow.” You looked at your boyfriend and then at the other man over your shoulder. Before saying anything, you lay on your back, so you could watch and talk to both of them at the same time.

“I liked it, but I don’t know how to feel about it. What if I said no? Would you have just stood in front of our door, listening to us have sex?”

“No,” Jungkook answered instantly. “I was in the hallway; you can’t hear much from there. If Taehyung didn’t call for me after some time, I would just go home.”

“So you don’t hate me anymore?”

“Hate you?” both men exclaimed simultaneously. Was it that surprising? It’s all you felt from Jungkook since always. Taehyung laughed joyously.

“Baby, I think I never told you in what circumstances I started dating you.” You arched an eyebrow to your boyfriend. He smirked. “Jungkookie and I had to play rock, paper, scissors to decide who asked you out first.” They WHAT? “I won and Jungkookie had to eat my shit. But you’re too damn hot for your own good, dear, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you – because I can’t neither.” The explanation should have cleared up any doubts you had but if anything, it birthed more questions. All these times you thought Jungkook hated you were just him concealing his desires poorly?

“I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. I tried my best to be distant so you wouldn’t get mistaken and think I wanted to steal you from Tae. I like you but would never try to break you two apart.” You saw pure sincerity in his doe eyes. Though you were incredibly confused, you decided to believe his words, because you knew he was a good guy after all. And he loved his friends more than anything, that was for sure. Unexpectedly, his hand came up to caress the side of your face tenderly, looking deeply into your eyes. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” You wanted to say no, for your boyfriend’s sake; but he was the one that took your hand in his and squeezed it supportively, murmuring a ‘do it’ under his breath.

You got close to Jungkook, who couldn’t waste even a second more and crashed his soft lips on yours. He kissed you urgently, like a man that had been thirsty for so long and just now had a drop of refreshing water. He savored your lips, your taste, and sucked your lip sensually. Soon enough, his tongue entered your mouth, and fire burned in your lower half. Your body still ached but the open-mouth kisses that your boyfriend left on your neck got you ready for more in no time.

“Now let us make love to you, dear” Taehyung exhaled against your skin, while Jungkook got his hand under your panties and his lips on your collarbone. “Let us show you how much we adore you.”

How could you say no to that?

#bts smut #bts x reader #taehyung #jungkook #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #taehyung one shot #jungkook one shot #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts one shot

2K notes · View notes