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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 7- Touch Me Under The Stars

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Now that Bucky is finally out of Cryo, the two of you adjust to life in Wakanda.

Warning: fluff, smut (it gets spicy), Bucky being soft

Masterlist

Life in Wakanda was something you could never have ever dreamed of, they literally had everything here. The buildings were huge, the people so interesting and lively, the scenery absolutely breathtaking, and the tech? Out of this fucking world to put it bluntly. Tony Stark who?

Though you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to be fully satisfied with your new corner of the globe, you had a place to exist and feel comfortable in, even a nice apartment overlooking the city that’s attached to where Bucky is currently being held in.

Right. Bucky.

He’s been on your mind as of late, well in actuality he’s been consuming most of your brain processing for the past couple weeks since you and him arrived here with T’Challa and Steve after the mess in Siberia.

Another painful memory added to the already long list of traumatic experiences endured by you throughout these past sixty or so years. But you’re surviving, well enough for the most part that is; you see Steve left soon after Bucky went into the Cryo chamber. Leaving yourself all on your lonesome in a strange new country with no friends but T’Challa.

If you could even consider him a friend.

Who by the way, makes you still feel pretty uncomfortable around considering all the times you beat the shit out of each other in the past, and he thought you and Bucky killed his dad, so it’s been light treading even if he insists it’s all in the past.

On a lighter note you met his little sister Shuri, who upon discovering who you were and what you can do, immediately began marveling at the fact that you have Adamantium claws in your forearms. She was thoroughly impressed and asked for you to cut a lot of random expensive looking objects for scientific purposes only.

Well that’s what she claimed at least. Other then then those two, you’ve been pretty solitary for the most part. Which has really started getting to you recently, something that T’Challa has begun to notice.

That man is too observant for his own good.

Wind rustles the jungle trees from outside this large glass window in the lounging area of King T’Challa’s extravagant home. They sway freely in the open sun as they stretch their great green leaves to the beautiful sky above. But no bout of joy resides in your heart this day, no matter how enticing the weather may appear.

Soon a new presence is felt in the room, though it’s nothing to be alarmed about as he walks to your side, a thoughtful yet concerned expression crossing over his kingly features, “Are you finding your stay here welcoming Y/N?” Wonders T’Challa softy as you slowly blink.

“I am.”

He frowns, you’ve been quit talkative before, but now you barely even speak to anyone, “My friend I know you are not alright. Please tell me what troubles your heart.”

Dammit he’s good.

Sighing, you hug your sides as he patiently awaits an honest answer, frowning, you reluctantly begin, “I thought I would be fine....I’ve always been alone for most of my life anyways. Never counted on anyone but myself. Never needed anyone but myself. That’s how I survived. It’s just now.....I have Bucky. And I care about him more then anything in the world, but he’s gone.......well not really but, you know.” You whisper before turning your head towards some tall trees so that the king cannot see the way that your eyes brim with unshed tears. God the ache you feel for him is almost unbearable.

Understanding your deep sorrow from your lovers absence, T’Challa slowly nods, “I cannot fully express an understanding of your pain, as I have never felt it like the way that you have now. Nor have I lived the life of your own.” He admits as you turn your head to catch him in your peripheral vision, not quit ready to meet his unthreatening gaze.

He swallows before continuing, “But this I do know, you are a warrior if I’ve ever known one, and I know many.” Chuckles the king, “You fight fiercely and love deeply, Bucky should be proud to have you by his side. I may envy that kind of love, though I should not say it, it is true.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek as you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand, “Love.” You whisper softly in thought, “I do love him, yes....very much. I’ve been withdrawn lately, because well, I guess I miss him more then I’d realize I would. I hope your people help him. That’s all I ask for, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You might not be waiting quit that long actually.” Reveals Shuri as her familiar footsteps wander into the large sun-lite room overlooking the jungle, “My team just needs a couple more days with him and he’ll be good to go for the most part. Though the process of fully becoming free from the trigger words may take a little longer....his mind will still need time to heal.” Explains Shuri as she moves to stand on your left, opposite of her half-brother.

At this your heart speeds up with excitement, eyes turning to face the smiling princess , “I don’t want to threaten royalty, but I might break a couple of your lounge chairs if you’re lying to me. I’m not joking.” You add half jokingly as T’Challa lightly chuckles.

“Now I do not doubt that.”

——

Today you’ve been summoned into the lab in preparation for Bucky’s defrosting, claiming that having a familiar face as the first thing he sees was probably the best for when he wakes up again, at least that’s what the doctors told you.

And of course you didn’t even hesitate to say yes. So now here you are in their cleaner then a soap bottle lab, standing nervously a couple feet away from the Cryo chamber as some scientists go about their duties to his left. It’s strange, he looks relatively peaceful and serene, like he’s having a nice little nap while standing upright and covered in frost.

Nonetheless Bucky looks handsome as always, soon a tiny subconscious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you await the aftermath of the defrosting process. A button is hit and the familiar whoosh of the air chamber fills your ears as bouts of warm white steam push up into the air from the bottom and sides of his chamber.

The inside goes foggy before one of the scientists flicks a switch and the glass door pops open to emit a plethora of tiny clouds that float up and dissipate just as quickly. In the aftermath, your eyes search for Bucky, he’s still sleeping and is covered in a couple specks of blue frost, his hair undoubtedly wet from the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Give him a moment, he may be slightly disoriented as the body wakes up again.” Explains Shuri from the doorway as you bite your bottom lip anxiously in anticipation for when he’s finally conscious.

“Right.” You nod in understanding, “Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.” You mutter with a depressing chuckle.

A second later you’re alerted to the sound of someone sucking in a deep breath, immediately your head snaps over to witness as Bucky stirs, his fingers curl back to life as his lips part. Then soon after his two icy blue pools slowly reveal themselves to the rest of the lab as he takes a look around.

Your fists grip tightly onto the fabric of your jacket as Bucky swallows before blinking back the slight blur of waking up from a couple weeks of hibernation. The scientists, Shuri, and you study his movements as Bucky’s brow raises in thought, his eyes only on you.

“How longs it been?” He wonders before taking a step to get out of the Cryo chamber.

“Exactly a month and a half Mr. Barnes.” Chirps Shuri enthusiastically as he nods in understanding before she gives a glance between the two of you, “Alright, I’ll give you and Miss. Valerious some time to catch up while we check your vitals.” Adds the princess before exiting out the door, the other scientists following suit.

Now it’s just you and your Bucky; glancing at the floor, the two of you wander into a semi-awkward silence before he finally breaks the ice, “You look good.” He mutters softly, a small reassuring smile on his pink lips as your eyes trail up to meet his.

Revealing a breathy laugh, you shrug, “Hardly. But you on the other hand, white, I like it. It’s a good color on you.”

His stubbled cheeks flush pink as he smiles brightly, “I think I remember you telling me the exact same thing before I went under.”

“Well I just told you again, because I mean it.”

“Well I like the new style..” Points Bucky to your outfit, “it’s Wakandian but very Y/N.....I like it.”

Shaking your head you begin giggling at his adorable compliment, “Barnes you’re too much....but seriously, how do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Thirsty?”

He smiles, “No, uh....I actually feel pretty good honestly. I could go for something to eat though, I’m starving.”

Walking over you gently take his hand in yours, “Say no more. T’Challa’s got everything here.”

——

After Bucky got readjusted and evaluated by Shuri’s team of incredible scientists and brilliant doctors, Bucky was well on his way to a full recovery from the years of mental torture given to him by Hydra. The words didn’t affect him anymore, the anxiety surrounding the very thought of breaking and turning on everyone again was a thing of the past.

He was your Bucky, completely.

In the following days after, T’Challa found a nice place on the outskirts of the grand city where you and Bucky could lay low and recover for some time as needed. Not wanting to over due your stay in his lavish home, and also wanting to feel the breeze again, you both agreed to live in a little village on the edge of a large pond.

All of it was Wakanda, so neither you nor Bucky stressed any worry that the Romanian and German authorities would come bursting through the front gates to whisk you away for your crimes. Or Tony Stark for that matter, he definitely hates you guys without a doubt in your mind.

Definitly with good reason, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever dare give Bucky up.

But on to greener pastures, it’s truly a possible thing that you’ve never seen Bucky in colors besides black or faded red shirts. But now? He wanders around in the brilliantly beautiful colors of Wakanda and her people with a brighter smile on his lips and lack of one arm for the time being.

Ah yes, the arm.

For the most part he’s been fine about it, though he needs your assistance when getting dressed or when attempting to wash the grime from his growing mane. Although, and fortunately for you, he’s still quit proficient in the area of love making with no decline in performance with lack of one arm, much to your satisfaction and his.

Besides that, it’s amusing, since you’ve been staying in this little friendly village, the kids have begun calling him the White Wolf when they want his attention. Which in turn earns a small smile upon his lips, one because he knows you usually hear it and think it’s adorable, and two it’s probably the first honestly kind thing anyone has ever placed on him, ever.

Walking across the villages center area, past huts and ladies washing some of their tunics, you follow the excited rambling of one of the village children as she talks a mile a minute about how you just have to see this really cool thing right now without exception. So of course you have to see this really cool thing, right now.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come! Faster you’re going to miss it, hurry you’re being slow.” Urges Ryn’a with a wave of her hand as she beckons you to starts running with her.

Heeding to her urgent request, you give her aunt a pursed lip grind before racing after the sprinting child, “This better be very interesting, or I’ll throw you into the water again!” You playfully threaten as she giggles across the grassy field.

Soon you’re crouching behind a rock as she peeks over the stony edge, ducking back down, she gives you a mischievous grin, “The White Wolf doesn’t see us.”

Raising a brow you nod, “This is what you wanted me to see? Him?”

Shaking her head she rolls her dark eyes in amusement, “No. We’re hunting.” She smirks in excitement as your brows furrow in confusion. Huh?

“Uh.....what?” Suddenly you connect the dots, “Are we hunting the White Wolf?” You ask, pretty damn positive that’s where this little adventure is going.

Shaking your shoulder excitedly she squeaks with joy before instantly catching herself and quieting down real quick, “He’s just over this rock. Chopping wood for the fire tonight....we need to hit him with a stick okay, then we run.”

Slowly nodding, your eyes trail over her excited face, “Hmm, okay. But I gotta ask, did Kova put you up to this and I’m now an accomplice?”

Biting her bottom lip, she diverts her gaze to the bushes behind you before mumbling out, “He might have......and if I was to hit the White Wolf on his head without getting caught. I’d get to play the drums for the fire tonight.” She whispers almost embarrassed.

Giving her a kind smile, you gently touch her shoulder in reassurance as she looks to you now, “Well then. Looks like we’re on a wolf hunt today, huh. Lucky for you, I’m great at throwing sticks.”

Immediately she squeals in joy before standing as still as stone, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t think he heard a sound.” You reply, snatching a ruler sized stick from the ground before peeking over the grey sun kissed rock.

There he is, in his red tunic completely oblivious, using a Vibranium axe to chop away at the wood for tonight’s fire dance. Sitting back down, you press your back against the stone as Ryn’a clenches her fists in excited anticipation, “Ready, Y/N?” You nod as she smiles.

“Okay good....don’t miss.” She warns.

“I never miss.” You muse before turning back around, your eyes peek up over the edge and watch as Bucky sets another log on the flat rock, he hauls the axe down, splitting the wood in two.

Setting the axe down again, he walks over to the small log pile before selecting one and setting it back on the flat rock, bending down to grab the axe and when he stands to his full height again...

Smack!

Instantly the dry weather worn stick flies from the back of his head to the ground below as he throws a wary look in your direction. Though he sees absolutely nothing but a big grey rock and some bushes. Touching the back of his head, he looks down and swiftly picks up the relatively unthreatening piece of dried wood.

Studying it like it’s the holy grail and will give him all the answers to eternal life and whatnot, he throws it to the ground before continuing with his duties as you turn back to Ryn’a. “That was a good hit.....can you do it again? Please?” Mutters the little beast as you settle down from that adrenaline rush of perfectly nailing Bucky in the back of his head without getting caught.

Let’s not forget you were one of Hydra’s most deadliest assassins.

Her dark chocolate eyes stare pleadingly and puppy-like as she fake pouts, “Please Y/N? I won’t ever leave another turtle in your house ever again....promise. I promise, please?” She quietly begs as you contain your laughter.

“Yeah alright. But you’re gonna have to run cause he’s probably gonna figure out where the second one came from.” You add with a smirk, “I’ll deal with the wolf after. I can take him.”

“Yes!” She squeaks, “Oh, sorry I mean....yes.” She whispers quietly as you search for a new stick to throw.

Soon enough you find another and cautiously look around the side of the rock this time, there’s Bucky, setting another log on the flat rock before slicing it in half. Instantly the biggest grin pulls your lips into a Cheshire Cat smile as he turns to grab another log.

Smack!

“Hey! Who was that?!” He shouts in confusion as Ryn’a bursts with laughter before booking it back to the safety of the village while you crouch there behind a rock cackling like a child.

God that was such an accurate hit too. And he didn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly you hear the sounds of feet running against the earth, when Bucky makes it to the back of the large rock you’re nowhere to be found. Brows furrowing, he looks at the bushes and then over to the nearby village before shaking his head and turning around to walk back over to his usual duties for the day.

Only now he’s confronted by the casually innocent face of you who’s standing there with the axe slung over your shoulder, “Something scare you Barnes?” You muse with a small laugh before nodding towards the wood, “I mean these logs can be pretty scary I won’t hold it against you. You might have seen a snake, who knows.”

Sauntering back over to you he stands there for a moment just observing your casually calm self, “Why do I have a suspicion you just hit me with a stick. Twice.”

Shrugging, you slam the axe into the dirt before rising up to meet his humored gaze, “Maybe it was a Rhino, maybe it was a little nine year old who needed me to win her a drum. Guess you’ll never know.”

Glancing from the ground then back up to you again, Bucky shakes his head at your theatrical antics, warm smile ghosting across his lips, “Well just so you know it didn’t hurt.” Assures your big tough man with a nod.

“I’ll use a bigger stick next time.” You quip as he takes a step closer to you.

Handsome face breaking out into a beaming grin, “Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’m tired of chopping wood.” He says as his fingers ghost against the bare skin of your sleeveless shoulders, “I just want to be with you.”

Touching the side of of his stubbly cheek affectionately, you smile, “Where too? By the pond?” Which causes him to snort a breathy laugh.

“No, I don’t trust you by open water.”

You shrug in agreement, remembering the first time you both arrived here and the children brought you into a splashing fight where you got Bucky’s hair all wet, “Yeah that’s fair.”

——

After enjoying a pleasant evening walk together, eating a delicious traditional Wakandian meal, and watching the performers for the celebration dance and beat on their drums for hours into the night. You and Bucky decided to steal away from the festivities and have a little moment together under the stars, just you and him, nothing and no one else.

“That was nice wasn’t it.” You mutter as he lays on his back next to you, “I like these people. They’re kind.”

Turning his head to meet your shadowed face, he smiles adoringly as you keep a steady gaze set on the stars above, “Well, no ones trying to kill us so I’d say we’re doing alright.”

“We are, aren’t we. Who would have thought that shit huh? Two ex-assassins, two fucked up people like us laying like sappy teenagers under the stars. This almost feels like some stupid romantic film.”

Bucky lets out a proper laugh this time as you send him a humored look, “What? I’m being honest!”

Quickly he rolls onto his side to face you, a new sultry flicker flashing through his dark gaze, “Maybe I like being sappy with you.” He mutters lovingly before trailing a finger across your jaw as you study his face.

“Sappy with me? Why Mr. Barnes are you flirting with me this fine evening?” You muse with a breathy chuckle as he smiles brightly down at you.

“I was hoping you’d notice, is it working?” He asks, a hopeful look in his dark blue eyes.

Leaning closer, he’s pleasantly surprised when you gently press your lips to his, “My God James you’re making me swoon.” You jest before snickering at your shitty old-timey accent replacing the Eastern European one, “Why I’ve never met such a character, now tell me Mr. Barnes, are you a single man?”

Holding in his laughter, he takes a breath before answering, “Doll, I’m taken.”

Gasping in mock surprise, you quickly sit up before pushing him onto his back by both shoulders, your legs to either side of his torso as your faces keep mere inches apart, “Well, well, well how about that.” You slyly tisk, your natural accent dripping heavily as it sends a thrill through Bucky, “Lucky woman indeed. But I can guarantee you, I’m much more enticing.”

Bucky shivers as you lean your body closer to his, your silky hands to either side of his flushed face as you smile a devilish grin in the darkness, “I don’t doubt it.” He rasps, voice just barley above a whisper, lips so close to yours now you could almost taste him.

“I just realized something.” You suddenly mumble against his plush inviting lips.

Bucky hums in reply, to completely and utterly enthralled by your seductive charm to even form a coherent sentence, you smirk before rising to properly sit up against him, “Bucky, you look better in the dark.”

His stomach rises with a deep laugh that rubs pleasingly against your growing warmness as he gently squeezes a hand on your right thigh, “You’re gonna get it for that one.” He muses, appearing like he’s about to flip you over but you’re not having any of that.

Pressing a hand against his firm chest, you suddenly grind your clothed nether regions slowly and meticulously against his lower stomach. He quickly lets out a low guttural moan as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Pulling away, you rest one hand on the thin Wakandian blanket that’s keeping you two from the dirty ground below, your other hand gently trailing down the side of his stubbly face, “Just let me make love to you okay? If you want that i...”

“Yes!” Interrupts Bucky with a great bout of enthusiasm before catching himself, “I mean....uh, yes please.” He mutters, failing to regain his composure as you circle your hips against his fiery skin. Oh, you are certainly enjoying yourself.

Smiling into the half moonlight, your eyes trail cautiously over to the burning village bond-fire a small trek away, seeing everyone laughing and minding their sweet business you then immediately pull your shirt off, your bra following right after just as quickly. Laying discarded on the nearby grass for later; Bucky’s eyes go wide with lust as the outline of your curves and protruding breasts flash like gold in the moonlight.

God you’re so beautiful, he thinks, and all mine.

The smile that Bucky gives you could just about light up a room on the darkest of nights, he wants you, he needs to be consumed by you, to feel you for all that you are. You can see it by the way that he rubs your partially exposed thigh, by the way his eyes never leave yours and when they do it’s to wander around your divine vessel.

He’s never been more in love then in this very moment, if that’s even possible; he’s never really spoken too deeply about it, his time with Hydra. But he’s undoubtedly glad that you found him when you did, he was in a dark place then. Lost and alone, on the run and keeping to the shadows as best he could from the rest of the hungry eyes of the world.

Then one day out of the blue you showed up with nothing but your wits and a kind smile to show you meant no harm, all you wanted was to see him again after all that time apart from your escape and his imprisonment with Hydra. He was sent to kill you, but you came back to him anyways.

He didn’t understand it at first, when he began to realize what falling in love truly felt like, but with time it came to him. At first sight wasn’t something that happened by any means, he was nervous to see you, standing there so innocently in his apartment in Bucharest. He thought he was being careful, he thought he was safe.

But then Hydra’s most prized weapon and most difficult one at that, you, had shown up to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t believe it, but what scared him the most as he let you stay with him, he was slowly but surly beginning to fall in love with you.

Now that was a new feeling he hadn’t felt in decades, you intrigued him, made him laugh with the simplest of offhanded side comments, made him try to be a better person. And most of all you made him feel wanted and loved, and that is something he will always hold dearly to his very heart and soul.

Because as you’ve said to him, you’re his ride or die no exception, you’ll always be there to throw a punch for him or to gather himself in your arms when the darkness threatens to consume him for all he’s worth.

You’re not afraid of him like so many are, you don’t run from danger, oh no, when Bucky’s concerned. You’re ass will fight to exhaustion to keep him safe and alive. Which so far has proved a very useful state of mind in consideration to the past events that have currently led you two on this ever changing roller coaster.

From Bucharest to Berlin, a flight to Siberia and a long skip down to Wakanda; you two will be by each other’s side no matter the distance. Because to put it bluntly, you’re all Bucky has left in the world and Bucky is all you have either, one without the other would be a dreadful existence.

Luckily for you, Bucky’s incredibly alive and doing pretty damn alright all things considered. Also for the current moment, he’s becoming an undone mess underneath you. Which is just what you’ve wanted, he deserves it.

Trailing a fiery pathway of butterfly kisses from his collarbone all the way up to his neck and jawline, Bucky emits a deep groan of pleasure as you palm him through his baggy pants that have started to tent with the pull of his growing hardness.

His lower half is still clothed while your whole body is free for the shimmering stars to bear witness to, and Bucky of course. “Y/N. Please.” He rasps as you feel up his clothed manhood while you grind tirelessly against his bare stomach, the sensation no doubt drawing you into a blissful rising climax to follow.

Stopping your pleasurable attack to his hardened member, you swiftly roll off of him as you decide it’s time to get things rolling, “Alright hot stuff get that shit off, I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

“Give me a sec...” Grunts Bucky as he kicks off his pants into the grass before you help him prepare to slip off his underwear, holding the top rim of the fabric, you generously pull it to his ankles before he kicks them off completely.

He chuckles as your face flashes with delight once all the goods are finally shown at long last, “See something you like?” Quips your man as your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze, huh were you staring?

A hot second later you’re hovering directly above his heated body as he strains from grabbing your soft hips and pushing your slick entrance into him. He wants you to enjoy yourself more then anything in the world, so instead does he pull you in for a heated kiss.

“I see many things that I like.” You whisper against his soft lips before slowly sinking down onto him, the sensation of his fullness and girth pulling you into a world of bliss.

Your smile is almost provocative as he moans, the sounds of his pleasure sending sparks of electricity into your system, “God Buck, you feel so fucking good.” You praise, rolling your hips back and forth against him shamelessly, God he loves it when you sweet talk him

He smirks against the corner of your lips before kissing your cheek, “You.....to-too.” Stutters Bucky while you continue to relentlessly ride him like a wild bull, the rocking of your hips causing him to forget how to properly speak.

He looks absolutely angelic, dark locks spread out upon the Wakandian blanket, shirtless, and face smiling with great happiness and joy that he’s been so terribly deprived of for such a long time. Not anymore. Not if you can help it.

Biting your lip when his member twitches inside you, you’re helpless to stop as a soft voluptuous whimper leaves your parted lips unexpectedly when he bucks his hips into you for some more friction. Noticing how well this new action is being received by you, Bucky does it over and over again until you’re nothing but a moaning mess above him.

Dammit he knows how to make you feel good.

Your body falling fully onto him as he makes you cum hard, “F-fuck.....oh God Buck, fuck me.” You mumble against his lips as he thrusts up into you over and over until he finally spills inside you with a concentrated grunt.

“oh.” You gasp breathlessly as Bucky flips you onto your back in one skilled motion, still deep within your wet warmness as his whole body presses you wonderfully into the soft blanket, “I hope they can’t see us.” You point out as Bucky chuckles before kissing your jawline, strong hips pushing against yours as he parts your legs further with his large body.

“It’s dark out.” Mutters Bucky in reply as he pulls another moan from your sweet lips, “They’re dancing.....and we’re....oh fuck....uhh....yes...” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suddenly squeeze your walls tightly around his cock as a second orgasm hits you, “Dear God Y/N.” Moans Bucky while you trail pink fiery lines down his muscular back.

Smiling against his lips, you fully enjoy the sensation of his thick member sliding in and out of you at a blissfully rapid pace as he continues to make a mess down there with his pleasure inducing actions. You’re incredibly grateful for the fire dance celebration happening a little ways away and all the loud pounding of the tribal drums that masks over the sounds of yours and Bucky’s intense love making on the Wakandian savanna.

Biting your lip, you can’t help when more whiney moans slip from your mouth, he’s a relentless force of lust and love that’s on a mission to see you filled to the brim with pleasure once more. He needs you, he wants every single inch of your heated vessel, he needs you to come for him just one last time.

“Y/N.” Mumbles Bucky against your parted lips as you slowly nod in acknowledgment, too fucked out to think. He smirks, “Cum for me, last time okay.” Says your lover sweetly as his hips roll against your sweaty skin, sending waves of building pleasure on a crash course for your hot core that’s pulsating in delight.

Digging your nails into the slick muscle of his broad back, you suck in a breath while his hard member slides in and out of you with ease. You’re about to come undone right under him yet again, the power of this man you could just about die happy, “Fuck,” You whimper helplessly as he kisses your cheek, “oh God Buck I’m close.”

He smiles proudly as his hips thrust forward, cock sliding deep within your warm walls as his manhood presses on the brim of your entrance, working absolute wonders on your over-stimulated clit.

Soon enough, the tight coil bursts open, sending shock waves of absolute radiant bliss that causes your muscles to tighten and shake reflexively. A sudden wetness slips out around his cock and onto the Wakandian blanket that’s definitely going to need a deep cleaning tomorrow.

The new liquid slides down your inner thighs as your body slowly yet surly comes down from your salaciously erotic climax; head unclouding the thick fog away, you take a deep breath only for yourself to realize you just squirted for the first time ever.

And it appears Bucky has just come to this thrilling realization too, locking eyes with him, you’re greeted with a sly smirk, “Did I just make you squirt?” Muses Bucky in underlying excitement as you simply roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I can deny it considering it’s all over the blanket, among other places.” You sass back, still aware of how he’s still buried deep inside you, “Proud of yourself?” You add with a small laugh.

Kissing your lips in reply, he pushes himself up by his one arm to gently slip out of you before laying in an exhausted heap at your side, “Actually. Yes, I am very proud of myself thanks for asking.” Quips Bucky while his hand trails down your bare rib cage before a huge grin reveals itself in the darkness, “I just made my girlfriend squirt!” Shouts Bucky without a care in the whole goddamn world.

Smacking his arm, you quickly sit up and look around, though it appears no one even knows you two are out here, “Will you shut up!” You whisper yell down at Bucky who’s giving you the biggest white toothed smile ever, “Stop smiling it wasn’t that impressive.”

Faking a half offended look, he pats your leg affectionately, “It was! And you seemed to be enjoying it so just accept that I’ve gotten better at this.”

You scoff, “I never said you weren’t. It’s just we’ve been together for almost three years and that’s the first time I’ve ever done.....that. So..”

“And it just happened so therefore I am amazing and you’re just going to have to accept how hot I am Y/N.”

“Buc..”

“I was getting you all hot and bothered doll.” Winks Bucky seductively as you shake your head at him, a reluctant smile creeping onto your beautiful features anyway.

“God you’re so old.”

Bucky snorts, “And aren’t you 65 or something? Sleeping with a 90 year old man....Y/N you’re getting out of hand.”

Shoving his hand off of your leg, you swiftly fall into his side as his arm curls up to wrap protectively against your waist, “Bucky shut your ass up.” You snicker, “I liked you better when I was on top. All you did was give me that “oh god Y/N oh fuck me ohhh I’m gonna I’m gonna...”

Bucky squeezes your side, “Okay. Okay. I get it you little asshole....let’s just, let’s just rest a moment yeah?”

You hum, shifting yourself so that you can lay against his chest, “Getting mushy on me now Barnes?” You whisper softly with a playful smirk.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his plush lips while he glances down at you, “A little.”

For about twenty minutes the two of you keep silent, just listing to the yelps and thunderous pounding of the drums from farther away. There is no reason to leave, no reason to move, no reason to speak. Just you two, laying wrapped up together in each others loving embrace, taking in the moment for as long as you can. The future is always uncertain, so every single second with Bucky is a blessing to be cherished and consumed for all you can take.

His breaths are slow and steady as you feel the soft rise and fall of his muscular chest that’s pressed against your breasts and face. His fingers run gentle line up and down your naked skin as you hug him close.

“Do you remember when we first saw one another?” Asks Bucky, his voice almost startling you. Lips just barley brush against your naked shoulder as he holds you close, your face nuzzled comfortably against his dark hair.

You pause, eyes blinking as they shift over to Bucky while he awaits an answer, “It was a long time ago Buck.”

“I know. But do you remember?”

Shrugging, you shift a bit to have a better look at his face, “I do. But you were the Winter Soldier and I was.....something I never want to be ever again.” You mutter, the sadness and regret deep in your soft voice.

All goes silent for the next couple minutes before Bucky suddenly kisses your shoulder, “I thought you were beautiful.”

Yours brows raise as you pull from his right grasp to sit up on one elbow while you look down at him, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you hold back tears. You didn’t expect to get this emotional but here you are naked and bare for him, “You did?”

Bucky nods in the darkness, heart hurting when your voice cracks, he’s never told you a word about how he felt when he was a weapon, “And every day after that.”

“oh.”

“I didn’t want them to.....well, you know.....I didn’t want to forget you.” Confesses Bucky, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t. Thank you for finding me Y/N....I owe you my life.”

Biting the bottom of your quivering lip, he smiles adoringly up at you, “Bucky....shut up you’re going to make me cry you bastard.” He laughs as you indeed shed a couple stray tears in this soft moment of vulnerability with your sweet man as he holds you protectively in his arm.

“I mean it...every single word, you mean so much to me Y/N. The world would be a darker place without you in it...”

You lower your head in shame, all those buried memories piling up all at once, “No. No it wouldn’t be....I’m part of the darkness Bucky...you know that..”

“Y/N, look at me, please.” Begs Bucky as you begrudgingly lift your head for him to meet your tearfully sad eyes, “Don’t let them win. What they did to us, what they made us do....you’re so much better then all of that. We’ve changed Y/N, for the better and you know it...the words can’t break me anymore and you, you’re free.”

“Okay.” Is all you’re able to rasp out before more tears fall willingly from your eyes, tiny water droplets of grief and remorse pattering against his bare chest, Bucky’s heart breaks for your pain and loss, and everything those fuckers at Hydra put you through before your escape to freedom.

He knows how much you hate yourself for all the innocent people you killed, granted not many were adherently innocent, but there where many that died by your hand because wrong place wrong time or by Hydra manipulation. Selling you false secrets that painted some people who were indeed good, as the enemy equal to the worst kinds of humans.

He knows, and he refuses to let you fall into this dark pit of despair, “I love you...okay, Y/N I love you so fucking much.” His words are well heard and received as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

There he holds you tightly, there he will protect you with his life, and there he will stay with you under the stars until dawn breaks out over the horizon.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the avengers imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #james buchanan barnes

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years ago

Text

Playing Games - n.yt

Pairing - Frat Boy!Yuta x Reader

Genre - College!AU, Fluff, Smut, Slight Angst

Warnings - Safe sex, swearing, alcohol consumption

Summary - Yuta is a notorious frat boy known for sleeping around with tons of girls yet never getting into a relationship. You never would have thought you’d become entangled with him until fate ends up placing both of you in the same beginner guitar class during your spring semester.

Word Count - 11.2k

A/N - i do not condone or promote the behavior or fraternities or sororities, especially during COVID-19, read a bit about it here. i am simply writing about my own fantasy in my own ideal world. with that being said, please remember to wear your masks and stay safe out there. this one shot will be my first work with smut in it so i’m open to pretty much any and all feedback. special thank you to @neocitybynight for helping me work out some of the plot!

Tag List - @jisungismymom @jikooksgirl19 @jungcity @boiolay @yasmini24

Written for the Bingo Collab hosted by @legendnct. Check out the masterlist here.

Prompts;

"Baby, I’m afraid to fall in love. ‘Cause what if it’s not reciprocated?” – Pink Sweat$ - Honesty

“So won’t you say my name, say my name?”– summer walker - playing games

“Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms” – Joji - SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK

“Can you focus on me? Baby can you focus on me?”– H.E.R - focus

“Oh, how I love you. I just feel so lost without you.”– McKay & Jeff Bernat - Angel 2 Me

It’s the first day of your second semester of college and you’re starting to rethink your decision of signing up for Guitar 101 as you step into the classroom. You don’t remember what pushed you to add this course to your schedule other than the fact that it would knock off two off your graduation requirements, though surely there were other courses that could’ve done that as well.

You were quite the beginner to guitar, having only touched one maybe only a few times in your life and you were sure that you absolutely would not have ever thought about taking Guitar 101 if it wasn’t for your friend Mark, who had suggested it to you.

Mark is a sweet guy and you just so happened to have the pleasure of meeting last semester in your math class. He had walked in late on the first day and took the seat next to you as he muttered something about the campus being too big and not having building names displayed clearly.

Your friendship truly started the day he came in without any of his belongings, not even his backpack. “I, uh, woke up late and ran to class. Literally.” You could tell from the way sections of his hair were standing up and how his white t-shirt was inside out, but you didn’t tell him that.

“If it’s okay with you, can you send me your notes later?” He asked, his eyes resembling that of boba. Mark let out an audible sigh of relief when you agreed and handed him your phone to type in his number. As soon as he gave it back to you, you sent him a message to make sure he typed it correctly and it was at that moment that Mark realized, after a whole month of sitting next to you and occasionally working together, he had yet to remember your name.

‘Hey, this is y/n. Still can’t believe you forgot your backpack’

The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces and you always did your work together at any given opportunity, finding that two heads are definitely better than one when it came to calculus. Sometimes working on projects together often led to you and Mark spending more time together and eventually leading both of your guys’ friends to speculate that you were dating, to which you insisted was not true.

Your friends seemed to understand and leave it be, though Mark’s friends were a whole different story. He was part of one of the newest frats on campus which had come to fame due to their good-looking members, not a single one of them falling even a hair short of having god-tier visuals. You recognized a few of them, having been to their frat house a couple of times to work on projects with Mark though most of them were older than you so it came as a surprise to you when you saw one of them in your beginner guitar class.

You didn’t know his name but he was easy to remember with his long black hair and his ever-changing fashion sense. Today, he resembled something out of a motorcycle magazine with his maroon leather jacket, black ripped jeans, and the bandana tied around his head.

You watched as he took a seat in the front of the room though you had enough sense to turn your attention back to the professor who had started class and was displaying a list of names with corresponding locker numbers that housed the guitar you’d be using.

Standing up with the rest of the class, you went to go find your own locker and let out a sigh of relief when you saw it was on the bottom row because that meant less effort to take it in and out rather than if you had one on the top row.

Right as you popped your lock open, a shadow was cast over you and you turned around to see Mark’s friend who was even more stunning up close. He flashed you a quick smile along with an apology as he moved to the side to give you more room and allow you to grab your guitar out from the locker.

You were just slightly irritated at the guy. People with good looks knew how to use them to their advantage and this man obviously knew what he was doing. Had he been sane, he could’ve just waited for you to get your stuff out before getting his own, but instead, he chose to tower over you as you were crouching down on the floor.

Your eyes followed his figure as he made his way back to his seat in the front of the room, sitting down in front of the professor and you rolled your eyes knowing that he’s going to have an ego as tall as a skyscraper.

Aside from your encounter with the nameless e-boy, your first class went pretty okay though you were already having a little trouble remembering which chords were which so you sent a text to Mark asking for tips. He responds a few minutes later with fingering charts and even offers to tutor you, which you gladly accept.

You and Mark had appointed Wednesday afternoons and Sunday mornings as your lesson times and the first time you visit him is on the former. It was February so the weather was still quite cold though it wasn’t cold enough to make you regret not wearing a thicker jacket.

Before you could even text Mark that you’re outside the frat house, the door opens and he pulls you in, visibly shivering due to only being in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. “Not so Canadian are you, huh?” You joke at him, seeing the once thick-skinned boy now struggling to warm himself up as he practically ran up the stairs to his room.

You followed him up, greeting his roommate, Taeil, when you passed him in the hallway. Taeil was the oldest member of the frat and was set to graduate at the end of the semester. He had you absolutely fooled when you first met him. His personality reminded you of a golden meadow or a sunny beach but he was a total animal when it came to parties though Mark had told you that you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg.

Having seen Taeil out in the hallway, you thought you and Mark would be the only ones in the room so you weren’t expecting to see the same guy from guitar class lying around on Mark’s bed. “Yuta, this is y/n, y/n meet Yuta.”

Yuta gave you that same smile you saw on the first day of class as he told Mark, “oh, I know her, she’s in my guitar class.”

“Dude, that’s so cool. You guys can work together on projects and the playing tests then. Man, that course would’ve been way more fun if I could play with someone I knew.” You shot Mark an awkward smile as if telling him to move on because you highly doubted that you’d ever want to work with Yuta, especially if his ego was as big as you thought it was. He’d call you out left and right for even the tiniest mistakes and you didn’t want to put yourself through that.

Mark cleared his throat while grabbing his guitar and handing it to you, and Taeil’s guitar to Yuta. “Yeah so, uh, anyway, I thought it would be better to teach you guys at the same time since you both are at the same level if that’s okay with you.” Mark’s question was obviously aimed towards you however Yuta answered first without any hesitation.

“Works for me.” Yuta looked over to you, strands of his white locks falling in front of his eyes though it didn’t dampen the intensity of his gaze in the slightest.

You didn’t exactly like the idea of playing with an audience, even if it was just Yuta. But if he was a beginner like you, then theoretically the playing field should be even. It was only because of this did you nod your head, telling Mark, “sure.”

Your first lesson with Mark consisted of his retaught both you and Yuta the fundamentals and basic chords you had already learned, making sure that your hands and fingers were placed the right way. Yuta, who was having a harder time than you, let out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back against the wall next to Mark’s bed while he ripped open a bag of gummy bears. “Whoever gets the fingerings right first gets a gummy bear.”

“Okay, bet.” Not really one for competition, you wanted to refuse his proposal, but this guy was really getting on your nerves. It was as if he had no interest yet all the passion in the world. And that’s aside from the fact that you simply wanted to continue showing him up and proving that you weren’t such a pushover and he can’t simply bend you to his will.

The three of you became so wrapped up in the competition that you didn’t even notice that you were supposed to leave to get to your last class of the day, which was now starting in five minutes. When you glanced over at the clock on Mark’s desk, you practically jumped out of your seat, “holy shit, I’m gonna be late to class.”

“I can drive you if you want.” Yuta offered.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” You weren’t exactly lying but you weren’t entirely telling the truth as you declined him. It was an eight-minute walk away but you could probably make it in six if you did your Black Friday walk and surely your professor wouldn’t mind if you were just a minute late.

Mark helped you gather your belongings and held his door open for you. “Alright, see you y/n. I’ll set an alarm next time so we don’t forget.” He said with a slight laugh in his voice.

As you stepped out of the frat house, you just couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to Yuta. He barely even knew you yet he had offered to drive you to class, even though your campus wasn’t particularly large. There was something about that man that made you want to run for your life but also just stop and stare at him all day.

The second time you had a lesson with Mark is on a Sunday morning and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that Yuta is nowhere to be found as you set foot into Mark’s room. After placing your bag down next to Mark’s desk, you pick up Taeil’s guitar and join him on his bed while he quietly plays a song to himself.

“Yuta’s still knocked out from the party we had yesterday so I doubt he’ll be joining us.” Mark informed you, and his statement rang true as Yuta did not come in during all of the three hours you spent next to Mark, much to your relief. Instead, Taeil had come in, looking terribly hungover.

“Hey, what’s up man.” Is all Taeil got to say before rolling into his bed, putting in a single Airpod before falling asleep, much to both you and Mark’s amusement.

Mark had tried to teach you basic chord sequences and strumming patterns but your brain just wasn’t having it. He kept giggling at seeing you frustrated and you had to repeatedly tell him to shut up in fear of waking Taeil so eventually both of you decided to call it a day as you put the guitars back on their stands.

You got back onto the bed next to Mark as both of you played on your phones for a bit before he turned his off and turned to talk to you. “Hey, y/n, so the guys are throwing this party next week Saturday and I was wondering if you’d want to come.”

“Next Saturday...Valentine’s Day?” You ask as you check your calendar on your phone.

“Yeah. You don’t have to though if you already have other plans.” Mark blurted out.

You laughed at the thought of actually going on a date on Valentine’s Day. “Didn’t have any plans besides ordering take-out and watching Netflix.”

Mark laughed along with you. “So is that a yes?”

“Sure.”

“Do you wanna sleepover too since you’re gonna be here on Sunday morning anyway?” You raised an eyebrow at Mark, wondering if he was actually serious.

“Sounds convenient but then where are you gonna sleep?” You countered.

“Uh, in Taeil’s bed.” Mark said, the gears in his head almost visibly turning.

“And where is he going to sleep?” You ask, not wanting to cause the kind senior any extra stress from having to deal with Mark as a roommate on top of his impending graduation.

Mark reached up and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know, probably somewhere on the floor downstairs.” Your eyes grew wide at his statement. “Okay wait, before you yell at me, Taeil always gets too hammered to make it back up to the room until like, Sunday afternoon as you clearly just saw.” He explained, gesturing to his sleeping body on the other side of the room.

“Okay, then. But if he gets mad, it’s your fault, your idea, not mine.”

By the time Valentine’s Day came around, you were more than ready for it to end, having been annoyed by all the lovey-dovey advertisement and the couples posting on Instagram and holding hands and kissing wherever you went. You had always heard that love finds its way to those who are least expecting it, which is why you gave up the thought of ever pining over a guy who was likely to reject you anyway. Though, sure enough, love really did find a way of messing with your life in more than one way.

When you arrived at the party, you had first gone up to Mark’s room to drop off your bag that held your change of clothes and personal hygiene supplies. You don’t know what you were expecting to see when you entered his room, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see Mark’s bare ass while he was fucking into a girl in his bed, the same bed you were supposed to sleep in at the end of the night. “Oh, shit, fuck, sorry y/n, can you just uh, come back in a bit-”

You were pretty sure you were just as embarrassed as Mark, shouting “alright, have fun dude” as you closed the door. You turned around to search for somewhere else to go, pondering on the idea of just going back to your dorm after the party and walked right into Taeil.

“Should I not go in there?” He asked, having seen the way you backed out of the room and closed the door.

“Not unless you wanna see Mark’s butt.”

“Eh, I see it from time to time, can’t be any worse than usual.”

“Taeil, no” you exclaim, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him away before he could open the door.

“Oh, you mean to see his butt while he’s doing that kind of thing, I get it now.” He said with a playful glint in his eyes. “Were you planning on sleeping over?” He asked, having noticed the duffel bag hanging from your shoulder.

You let out a sigh before answering. “Yeah, I was gonna sleep in Mark’s bed and he was gonna sleep in yours since he said you apparently get too fucked up to make it back to the room.” At which Taeil laughs as he nodded his head, acknowledging the statement.

“He’s certainly not wrong,” Taeil confirmed, “did you want to put that down somewhere? I can let you keep it in our lounge room during the party. It’s a members-only room so you can just ask one of the guys to open it for you later in case I’m already out.”

You can’t help but giggle at Taeil’s joke as you accept his offer, following him down the hallway to a door where he punches in some numbers onto a keypad before opening it. Your jaw dropped when you looked inside, being met with a huge U-shaped couch facing the back wall where a large TV was mounted. “What do you guys even do in here?”

“Usually just gaming, sometimes watching big sports matches. Just normal guys stuff. We agreed to no sex, drugs, or alcohol in here so it’s like a safe room of sorts I guess.” Taeil explained to you.

“Huh, didn’t think you guys would have something like this.” You told him as you placed your duffle bag against the wall near the door.

“Frat life isn’t just all about getting high and drunk you know, y/n,” he said, playfully scoffing at you, “but speaking of, would you like to get a drink downstairs?” You nod your head before walking alongside Taeil as he places an arm around your shoulders, guiding you down to the party.

As you pass by Mark’s room along the way to the stairs, both you and Taeil share a laugh as you could hear the faint noises of sex through the door, though you really just wanted to erase the image of Mark’s ass from your head. Taeil seems to understand this much as he takes you to the kitchen and tells Doyoung, the frat’s resident entrepreneur with a side hobby for mixology, to get you something strong.

You’ve met Doyoung a couple of times, though you only exchanged short greetings since you were always doing something with Mark. “Where’s your boyfriend?” He inquired.

“Who?”

“Mark.”

“Oh, we’re not dating. He’s in his room though.”

“Sure seems like you’re dating. Why isn’t he here with you?”

Taeil responds, saving you from having to explain to Doyoung. “He’s getting lucky with some other girl.”

Doyoung’s eyes go wide as he responds, “that’s a first for him.”

You were about to ask what he meant by that but you’re interrupted by loud yells coming from the living room, causing you to turn around and see what was going on. You spot Yuta standing up on the makeshift DJ booth in the corner of the room with Johnny, who you recognized as your TA in your English class, as he grabbed the microphone and shouted “let’s get fucking drunk” before Johnny could manage to yank it out of his grasp and turn it off.

“What’s with that guy?” You mumble to yourself, not really expecting Doyoung to overhear you.

“Oh, Yuta? He’s just like that sometimes.” Doyoung states, shrugging his shoulders as he wiped the kitchen counter with a towel. “He’s that one friend who does really questionable things but you can’t get rid of them because deep down they’re actually pretty nice.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You think he’s nice?”

“He is once you get to know him.”

You look at Taeil for reaffirmation only to find that said man is long gone, the only evidence of him ever being there is his yellow phone left lying on the counter next to Doyoung’s own drink. “I’ve gotten to know him and I wouldn’t say he’s nice, per se.”

Doyoung shakes his head at you, “you just haven’t cracked him open yet.”

“Why do you talk as if he’s an egg or something?” You joke laughing to yourself and watching as Doyoung fights back a smile.

“He is, in a sense. He’s got a tougher exterior along with his own inner issues that come tumbling out once he trusts you.”

“Like?”

Doyoung hums in thought before speaking. “I’m not gonna say too much because it’s his life and his own story to tell, but let me just ask you this one question. Don’t you ever wonder why he constantly sleeps around with girls yet never gets into a relationship with any of them?”

You ponder on the question before asking one back. “So are the rumors true?” Yuta’s reputation did precede him and you had, in fact, heard from other girls who had their own stories and adventures with Yuta but you didn’t necessarily believe them completely, not wanting to assume anything about Yuta.

“Some, not all...but yes, most of the ones I have heard were true, but maybe that’s just because people know I live with him so there’s no sense in trying to lie around me.” Doyoung responds to which you nod your head, acknowledging the accuracy behind his statement.

Three shots later of whatever Doyoung was making you, you were already starting to feel hot and lightheaded so you went back upstairs, as per Doyoung’s advice, and made your way to Mark’s room hoping he’d be done by now. You cracked his door open and peeked around it, grumbling to yourself as you saw your best friend and the same girl from earlier wrapped up in his blanket. You weren’t too sure where you were going to sleep tonight and you weren’t too keen on walking back to your dorm this late at night, especially when you were already starting to feel tipsy.

Closing the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the two people inside, you step away from the room, only to run into someone behind you. You spun around, ready to apologize until you realized who it was. Yuta, a quite drunk Yuta too.

“Taeil told me Mark got lucky-” he stopped to hiccup, “but I didn’t fully believe it so I came to-” he hiccuped again, “see for myself, but I think your action speak-” he reached up to briefly rub his eyes, “louder than words” he finished, letting out a yawn at the end. “Need somewhere to stay?”

“How did you know I was sleeping over?” You ask, wary of the man and his intentions.

He waves his hands as if dismissing your preconceived notions. “Taeil told me that too. Makes sense anyway since you’re here on Sunday’s as well.”

You sighed, not wanting to let yourself give in to Yuta yet again and give him another thing to hold over you, but it wasn’t as if you had many other options. “Taeil let me leave my bag in the lounge, can you unlock the door for me? I think I’ll just ask Doyoung to drive me back to my dorm or something.”

Yuta hummed as he grabbed your wrist and led you down the hallway to the lounge. He unlocked the door for you and held it open, but once both of you were inside, he closed the door behind him and turned on the mood lighting and watched as the room began to glow purple.

You picked up your bag as Yuta threw himself over the backrest of the sofa and tumbled onto the cushions. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?”

“Well, yeah?” You stuttered, taken aback by his sudden comment.

“Damn, I wanted to be the first.”

“Okay?” You said, questioning his antics as Doyoung’s words floated through your head about Yuta and his trysts with girls, not wanting to become another victim.

As if Yuta could hear you thinking, he sat up and peered over the couch just enough to make eye contact with you, his eyes mischievously shining in the low lighting. “Were you gonna sleep with Mark?” He asked, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

“What? No,” you exclaim, “he’s my best friend, I would never do that.”

“Not like that you sicko,” Yuta said as he chuckled at your flustered state.

“Oh,” realization dawning upon you, “uh, yeah, I was planning to just sleep in his bed and he was gonna take Taeil’s but now I’m pretty sure that’s not happening tonight.”

“You can stay in my room if you want.” Now it was your turn to raise a suggestive eyebrow at him. “No, it’s not what you’re thinking. My roommate is away in China so his side is open. You can sleep in my bed if you’re not comfortable being in a stranger’s bed.” You were surprised he made it through such a long statement without any hiccups.

“Uh, thanks, I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.” You say, finally unrooting yourself from the floor and making your way towards the door.

Yuta begins haphazardly pulling himself over the back of the couch seeing as how you were ready to leave the room. “I’ll show you to the bathroom.” He would’ve face planted straight into the floor if it weren’t for you standing right in his path of destruction, barely catching him before he nearly sent both of you to the ground. “Sorry” he giggled as he regained his balance and pushed open the door.

You couldn’t mistake the way his body felt against yours, how warm and comforting it was. He smelled nice too, which was odd for someone who partied like an animal and lived with god knows how many other guys. You shook yourself out of your thoughts and grabbed your bag, following Yuta out of the lounge.

He led you to the bathroom and instructed you on how to use the shower and lock the door before telling you how to get to his room once you were done. The bathroom was surprisingly neat but you were sure it was thanks to Doyoung and Taeyong, the only two people you thought had their heads on straight in this house. Even if you had only briefly met both of them, it was enough to let you know that those men were the reason why the house somehow looked presentable within just a few hours after a raging party.

You showered quickly, the effect of Doyoung’s drinks really hitting you now, making you want to just pass out. Once you were done showering you threw on one of Mark’s shirts that you had previously stolen, intending on giving it back to him tonight, but you weren’t comfortable wearing your normal beat up sleepwear in front of Yuta, so you opted to wear Mark’s shirt instead.

Not quite wanting to have another incident like the one you had earlier with Mark, you knocked on Yuta’s door just to be safe. You heard him laugh from the inside as he called out “it’s unlocked, just come in.” As you let yourself in, he got off his bed telling you “I’m going to shower now. Just make yourself comfortable in whichever bed you want. I’ll sleep in whatever one you don’t choose.”

After he left the room, you looked between the two beds. One was neatly made and had pictures strung up on the wall next to it, the blankets and sheets folded nicely and placed alongside a few pillows near the foot of the bed. The other, which Yuta had just rolled out of, had wrinkled sheets with the blanket half falling off the bed, not a single pillow within a whole six-foot radius of his bed.

You didn’t really want to mess up the organization of whoever his roommate was, so instead, you just took one of the pillows and plopped it onto Yuta’s bed as you grabbed the blanket from the floor and pulled it over your head, allowing his scent to flood your nose. Just as you were about to drift into sleep, you heard the door open and close followed by rapid footsteps coming your way.

Before you even had time to react, Yuta was flinging himself on top of you and laughing as you gasped for air under his weight. “Somebody looks comfortable.” He teased as you continued squirming, trying to push him off you.

You wouldn’t take him to be a clingy drunk after seeing how rowdy he was during the party, but you suppose this is the side of him that managed to charm so many other girls into thinking they’d be that one lucky girl to finally win over Nakamoto Yuta’s heart. “Get off of me.” You uttered forcefully as you tried to make him move over and relieve the pressure on your chest and stomach.

“You silly, this is my bed” he cooed, letting another round of giggles leave his lips before rolling off you towards the wall, leaving you on the outside of the bed. He threw the blanket over himself, humming as he felt the warmth of it, that you had made, on his freshly showered skin.

Yuta kept his distance as he laid on his back with his eyes closed, his hands reaching up to ruffle his damp hair, speaking of which, “you know people say you can get sick if you go to sleep with damp hair?” You asked him quizzically.

“Yeah, but I’ve never gotten sick from it so I don’t really care.” He said dismissively.

A few moments passed before either one of you spoke again. “Didn’t you say that you were going to sleep in the other bed?” You questioned, remembering your conversation from not too long ago.

“Yeah, but I’m too lazy to unfold everything and put it back in the morning so here I am.” Yuta beamed, smiling over at you. You rolled your eyes at him, scoffing as he continued playing with his hair, making it stick up in different directions. “I can sleep somewhere else if you’re not comfortable with me being here.”

You wanted to say ‘yes, please move’ but you didn’t have enough strength in you to tell him to get out, not when you enjoyed his presence next to you so instead you simply told him “it’s fine” before tugging over more of his blanket and turning to face away from him.

He let out a whine as now half of his body was uncovered and exposed to the cold winter air and he yanked his blanket back, inadvertently pulling you with it, causing you to face him with your forehead nearly resting against his chest. “Why are you hogging my blanket?” Yuta whined.

“I’m not hogging it, you just keep trying to take more than your fair share of it.” You fired back at him.

“This is my room and my blanket.”

“You’re the one who offered to let me stay here, and might I add, you said you were going to sleep in the bed that I didn’t choose.”

“I can always retract my offer, you know.” You shook your head, the idea of asking Doyoung to drive you back to your dorm at 3am wasn’t exactly appealing to you. “Okay then come closer so we can actually share the blanket instead of leaving one of us to freeze.”

You let out a huff and scooted closer to Yuta. “Are you happy now?” Yuta let out a hum as he smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling underneath the strands of bleached white hair that had fallen in front of his face.

Closing your eyes again, you tried to fall asleep, hoping that you wouldn’t have any further interruptions from Yuta, but you couldn’t seem to fully relax with the main light of the room still on. “Yuta can you turn off the light?” He looked over you, clearly unhappy. “Please?”

“You’re closer.”

“God, why are you so difficult.” You remarked as you slid out from under the blanket, walking over to flip the light switch.

“I’m not difficult, you’re difficult.” He fired at you as the room became dark, illuminated only from the light of the moon. “You’re always so uptight and on edge about getting to class on time and being prepared.”

“Because that’s what a good student does, and unlike you, I actually want to graduate from college in four years.” You spit back as you rolled back into the bed next to him.

“Hey, not everyone graduates within four years, some of us just have a different path in life. And what makes you think that I’m not trying to graduate soon?”

“Your attitude and your seemingly nonexistent care to even make it to class on time.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t do my work though.”

“But you totally miss the instructions that the professors give at the beginning of class.”

“It’s not hard to figure things out when you’ve got a brain as big as mine.”

“You’re so annoying, just let me sleep.” You grumbled as you moved closer to him, wanting more of the blanket.

Silence falls upon both of you again but you let out a huff when Yuta starts talking again. He sure was annoying as hell when he was drunk. “Do you have feelings for Mark, or like, any other guys...like at all?”

You stared up at him, praying he’d feel the daggers coming from your eyes, “no.”

“Good, I was hoping you didn’t so I could do this.”

“Do wha-”

You hadn’t even finished your sentence before Yuta tilted your chin up and brought his lips to yours, eagerly molding his to fit the shape of yours.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you started to kiss him back, in fact, you probably weren’t thinking at all. Yuta took it as a green light and let the hand that was against your chin find its way to the back of your neck to pull you in closer. You didn’t realize your body had shifted until you were now completely pressed up against him. It soon became all too hot and suffocating, forcing you to pull away and break the kiss.

Your eyes met his and held his gaze as you came to your senses. “Yuta, I’m not here to have sex with you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” He replied almost nonchalantly.

You rolled your eyes at him, “no, I mean, like ever.”

“Okay. Who says I can’t just kiss a pretty girl because I want to?” He asked, the attitude in his voice was almost enough to make you want to slap him.

“I do?” You quipped. “I didn’t tell you that you could kiss me either-”

“Says the person who was definitely not kissing me back.” Yuta teased as he cocked an eyebrow at you, daring you to continue.

You flung the blanket off of you, not wanting to put up with any more of his antics. “Don’t use your fuckboy charms on me, I’m not here to become another one of your girls.”

“Y/n, wait, that’s not what I meant to do,” he whined, grabbing your wrist before you could fully get out of the bed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off that way and for your information, I am not attached any of the ‘girls’ you are alluding to.”

“You attached yourself to them the moment you put your dick inside them and gave them something to talk about.”

“That's not what I intended to do.”

“Then what is it that you intend to do, Yuta?”

He paused with his mouth slightly open and you took this moment to separate your wrist from his grasp before he spoke again. “I don’t try to ‘charm’ them or whatever you call it. I’m not even looking for a relationship, trust me.”

“And why should I trust you when you have girls practically throwing themselves at you?”

Yuta let out a groan as he flopped onto his back. “Look, I never wanted to be this blunt with you but I’m not looking for a relationship because the last one I was in ended with me getting cheated on.” He paused as if letting his words sink in. “I don’t want to fall in love again because I don’t want to risk going through that same pain another time. I’m scared to fall in love because what if it’s not reciprocated? Is that enough to make you believe me?”

You stare at him in shock, barely managing to stutter out “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s fine, let’s just go to sleep, I said too much already.” He interrupted, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you back under the blanket. Once you were close enough for his liking, Yuta let go of you, retracting his arm back to his half of the bed though he stopped when he felt your hand on his forearm. He looked up at you with wide eyes as you pulled his arm back over you and allowed your forehead to rest against his chest.

Yuta stayed like that until you fell asleep, finding it hard to do the same. It took him awhile to find himself in the familiar lull due to his thoughts running rampant in his mind as his eyes traced over your features. If only you could read his mind, you’d know of the dilemma he realized he had wrapped himself into that he was too scared to admit on his own.

You woke up with a pounding headache, to say the least. Reaching up to massage your forehead, you tried to roll onto your back only to find that you weren’t able to. You jerked around, finding Yuta’s sleeping body as you remembered the events and conversations that took place just hours prior. You stilled as you took a moment to admire the way the golden rays of sun seeped in through the window, falling across his face and causing him to have an ethereal glow. He’d be quite attractive if it wasn’t for his attitude.

However, his face alone wasn’t enough to distract you from the fact that he was practically spooning you and you weren’t confident that you could get out without waking him though what really irked you was the fact that part of you didn’t want to leave from his warm embrace.

You stayed in his arms for a few minutes longer until your headache became unbearable and your throat was begging for something to drink. You tried your best to gently extract yourself from Yuta but much to your distaste, he woke up. He caused you even more displeasure when he pulled you back towards himself and whined “where are you going?”

“I’m thirsty and I have a headache.” You stated plainly, your voice void of energy.

Yuta whined once more before trying to reason with you. “But it’s cold, it’s cuddle weather.”

“I didn’t say that I wanted to cuddle with you.” You pointed out, at which Yuta finally forced his eyes open as he yawned and stretched before sighing.

“I’ll get you water and some ibuprofen if you stay for a little longer.”

“Fine, but that’s only because I don’t have anywhere else to go.” You were trying to convince him of this as much as you were trying to convince yourself of the statement while he gave you one of the brightest smiles you’ve seen from a full-time college student as he climbed over you and let himself out of the room.

You took this time as an opportunity to use the bathroom and peek into Mark’s room as you made your way back. You were surprised to see there was no one in the room and nearly jumped when an arm wrapped around your waist from the back. “Are we spying on Mark?” Yuta whispered into your ear.

Scoffing, you answer “he’s not even in there, you idiot.”

“Huh, I wonder where he went,” Yuta contemplated, “might as well grab the guitars while we’re here.” He handed you the glass of water and pills he was carrying as he walked into Mark’s room and picked up the two guitars from their stands.

“What are we supposed to do without Mark?”

“Practice? What else are we supposed to do?” The man in front of you asked rhetorically.

You shook your head at him, not liking the sound of his idea. “We won’t know if we’re doing anything right, we’re literally both beginners.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t help each other.” Yuta countered.

“Ugh, whatever, you’re so irritating.” And with that, you down the pills and turn to walk back to his room.

Playing guitar with Yuta wasn’t actually all that terrible. He knew more than he let on during your shared sessions with Mark and he offered you some tips every so often as he led both of you through the chord progression sheet. The whole scene of it was quite surreal, the way you and Yuta were both simply clothed in plain t-shirts, hair still roused from sleep, the way the sun gently lit the room and warmed it up.

You were genuinely enjoying yourself and didn’t even notice when Mark came into the room. “You guys started without me?” He whined cutely.

Yuta looked at you and you gestured at him to respond. “Y/n went to go spy on you in your room but you weren’t there so we decided to steal the guitars and have fun on our own.” You shot Yuta a look, hoping he understood the ‘I will strangle you’ glare you were giving him.

“Wow y/n, why were you spying on me man?” Mark asked dejectedly.

“I was just checking to see if your girl was still with you because I didn’t want to barge in on anything, again.” You tease.

Mark groans and covers his face out of embarrassment. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

“Wait, wait, you saw Mark naked?” Yuta questioned with his eyes wide. “He has a big butt doesn’t he?” He added, smirking, at which both you and Mark yell at him to shut up. “Just saying facts.” He claims, raising his hands up in defense.

“Anyways,” Mark said a little too aggressively, “are you guys doing okay on your own? Or did you want me to join?”

Again, Yuta turned to you for a response, though this time you really hated yourself for what you answered with. “No, I think we’re fine, thanks though.”

“Better go wash your sheets bro, you were wild last night.” Yuta called out as Mark left the room.

“Dude,” Mark exclaimed, “don’t ever say that again, please bro.” And just like that, I was only you and Yuta again.

“Speaking of parties,” Yuta began, “we’re thinking of holding another one in March before spring break. Wanna come?”

“I can’t believe you guys are already planning another one not even a whole day after getting drunk out of your mind.” You joke, the disbelief obvious in your expression.

“Hey, you have to let loose every once in a while,” he states, “but my offer still stands.”

You hum, faking getting lost in thought, “ask me again in a month and I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you tilted your head to the side, the look on your face clearly ridiculing him, “for now.” He adds on.

You went back to looking over the chord progression sheet and tried again to go through the one you were on before Mark came in. You almost succeed this time until you place your fingers one fret away from where they were supposed to be. “Yikes” Yuta comments as he reaches out and shifts your hand over for you, causing you to stick your tongue out at him.

It seemed only reasonable that when the guys continued having parties every so often, that you were invited to every single one of them whether it be through Mark or Yuta, and the one time Johnny had hit you up not knowing your involvement with the frat already, or even when Taeil invited you though it was really because Mark needed help sorting out his relationship issues.

Everyone except you was surprised that Mark had found himself a girlfriend, especially one that wasn’t you. You were happy for him, even if it meant having to respond to his panicked texts at 2am asking what something meant in ‘girl language’ accompanied by numerous screenshots.

Mark often ended up leaving you and Yuta on your own on Sundays because that was the only day when both he and his girlfriend were free. You certainly didn’t mind spending more time with Yuta now that he stopped being such a cocky asshole all the time. Whatever absence Mark had left, Yuta was there to make up for it whether it be his lingering touches, shy kisses, and even the offering of his clothes to you when you accidentally ended up sleeping over again, though this time you voluntarily shared a bed with him.

Yuta was becoming a necessary presence in your life, though you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind it when he moved to sit next to you during class. You didn’t mind when he asked to work with you for the upcoming playing test. You didn’t mind when he found you during parties swept you away from the dance floor to take you elsewhere.

You especially didn’t mind when taking you elsewhere resulted in your current situation, your hands tangled in Yuta’s now orange-colored hair, as you lay under him while he kissed you breathless.

“You look so fucking hot, you had all of them staring at you.” Yuta growls out between kisses.

You bite his bottom lip, causing him to groan slightly. “Mmm, you like that though. You like it when I look like this.”

“Not when other men get to look at you the way I do.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re mine.”

The use of the word caused you to stop in your tracks, Yuta pulling back as your lips stopped moving against his. “What are we?” You ask him, your voice shaking.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, this relationship?” You say, gesturing between the two of you, “What is our relationship to each other?”

“We’re friends.”

“But are we just friends? Because I don’t think friends kiss each other like this.”

“They don’t, but that doesn’t mean we can’t.” Yuta interjected as he leaned in to reattach his lips to yours.

“No, Yuta, stop,” you declare, pulling away from him, “I told you I’m not someone you can just play around with. If you want to keep me as a friend, then that’s all we will be. No kissing, no flirting, none of that.”

“I’m not playing around with you-”

“Then why is it so hard for you to place a label on us?” You questioned him, unintentionally raising your voice ever so slightly.

He rolled off of you, throwing an arm up to cover his eyes as he let out a sigh of exasperation. “I...I don’t know.”

“We’re clearly more than just friends but if you’re not willing to commit to being something more, then I’ll leave it at that.”

“Y/n, I- fuck, I don’t know what I even want-”

“And that’s okay,” you interrupt, “I’ll just give you time to think then, but for now,” you pause as you stand up from his bed, “just friends.” And with that you let yourself out of his room and ventured back downstairs to the party without turning back, finding comfort in the common sight of Johnny manning the boards, Doyoung in the kitchen with the drinks, even down to Taeyong and Taeil drunkenly swaying with each other on the dance floor.

“Here, something sweet to get rid of that sour look on your face.” Doyoung joked as he slid a drink across the counter.

You let out a chuckle as you raised the glass to your lips. “That obvious huh?”

“It is when I know whose room you just came from and who you’ve been spending all your time with.” He was really too intelligent to be stuck with these idiots.

You could only sigh as you took a large swig of whatever it is Doyoung made for you, relishing in the burn it gave you as it went down your throat, wishing for the alcohol-induced pain to overtake the one in your mind caused by the one and only Nakamoto Yuta.

Needless to say, you and Yuta ended up changing songs for the playing test and performing alone. Yuta moved back to his previous seat in the front of the room, though you still felt the way his eyes practically pierced through you as you played your chosen song, which albeit, was on the easier side since you wanted to give yourself a break.

Unbeknownst to you, Yuta wished so badly to be the person you were singing about. “Can you focus on me? Baby can you focus on me?” You sang, and he mentally beat himself to the ground.

Yuta still wanted to give you the world more than anything but he didn’t trust himself to do so, not when he’s already hurt you more than he should have. He became so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice you finished playing until he heard the applause coming from your classmates.

You actually did end up going to their spring party, but it was due to a request made by Johnny as he told you about Mark’s current post-breakup state near the end of your English class together. “He’s pretty much been in his room all the time. Not like the normal kind where he just prefers to chill in his room, but like, the kind where he doesn’t even come down to eat with us and Taeil has to bring food up to him.”

“Did Mark say anything about the breakup? Like why or how it happened?” You questioned, not wanting to have to ask Mark himself in case it was still too sensitive a subject to talk about.

Johnny hummed in thought, cocking his head to the side. “He didn’t say much to me, but he told Taeil that she wasn’t looking for anything serious but he thought that she was.” Johnny paused to take a sip from the Starbucks cup on his desk. “In my opinion, he should’ve waited to get to know her instead of just fucking her and deciding to date her y’know? But, I mean, that’s on him, so as they say, not my problem.” He shrugged his shoulder before taking another sip of his drink.

“Literally who says that?” You joke, enjoying poking fun at the older guy.

Johnny turned to you, a mock look of offense plastered onto his face. “Y/n! You don’t know? The famous Johnny Suh says it all the time.” You rolled your eyes at him as you packed up your belongings, promising to be at the party later that night, not exactly fancying the thought of running into a certain someone at the party as well.

Mark’s fiery whirlwind of a romance had left him to become a mess of all sorts and you spent your time with him at the party in his bed, watching tik toks and animal video compilations to get his mind off of things. You felt a sense of relief as you heard one of his faint snores, realizing that he was asleep, allowing you to slip out of his room and head downstairs to grab a drink from Doyoung.

Right as you were about to head back up, you saw the all too familiar head of orange hair glowing under the dim lighting as he looked down across the party from the bottom of the staircase. He didn’t seem to notice you as you made your way towards him until a small “hey” left your lips.

His eyes darted over to your face, offering a simple nod of his head to you to acknowledge your presence. You stood next to him, leaning against the wall until you broke the silence “how have you been?”

“Fine. You?”

“Pretty good I guess.” You could tell he didn’t want to talk to you, but you didn’t want to leave him, just feeling so drawn to him. Finding comfort in his presence, you closed your eyes and let your head fall against the wall as you lost yourself in the music that Johnny had going.

“I’ll get going, this party isn’t as exciting as normal.” Yuta stated as he turned to go back upstairs. Starting up the stairs after him, wanting to check in on Mark again, but when Yuta heard you following him, he turned around and called out to you. ”Don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms.” You froze as he turned back around and continued his way up while you processed his words, allowing him to escape from you yet again.

You watched from an outsider's perspective and through the narratives of the other guys as over the next few days, Yuta replaced Mark as the resident vegetable. He fell into the same state Mark was previously in, said boy having slowly come back to his senses with your constant nurturing and care.

Party after party, Yuta was no longer down on the dance floor with one hand holding a red solo cup, another around the waist of a girl he had just met. You wanted so badly to speak to him, but whenever you spotted him off to the edges of the crowd, he’d disappear seconds later like he knew you were watching him. As much as it was nice to have Mark back and go back to your normal best friend activities, Yuta had lodged himself in your heart without you knowing it.

Countless parties more and it was already nearing the end of spring semester. Yuta had stopped showing up to class, appearing once or twice a week, at most. Even at parties, he no longer came out of his room, according to Taeil. You had been meaning to talk to Yuta for a while now, but with finals looming right around the corner and his ability to hole himself up in his room, it was nearly impossible to find the time and place for it.

You were sick of worrying about him and if he was eating and sleeping okay, often finding yourself wondering what he was currently doing while you were studying or eating your own meals. You hated how often he occupied your mind. You truly wanted to believe that you were different to him, that someday he’d come around ready to commit to something but you ridiculed yourself for thinking that you’d have enough power to change someone as stubborn as Yuta. Little did you know, you were more than capable of doing so.

You had just entered the last week before finals and your school was generous enough to allot students a two day period to study before finals started. Of course, the frats and sororities took it as a last-ditch opportunity to party before their seniors graduated. You attended the party thrown to celebrate the graduating Taeil, Johnny, and Taeyong, but you were there for a different reason.

Throwing a quick greeting to Doyoung in the kitchen as you entered, he offered you a drink, which you told him to save for later before storming up the stairs. You were tired of all the hours you spent thinking about Yuta. If he wasn’t going to do anything about this, then you were whether it ended your friendship with him or not. You were done thinking about all the what-ifs, you wanted a definitive answer and you wanted it now.

Stopping in front of Yuta’s door, having enough manners to think about knocking before entering, you raised your hand to knock. Though before you were able to, you heard the music coming from inside. It didn’t take a genius to recognize that it was his voice singing the words. You froze with your hand against the door as you continued to listen to him. “Oh, how I love you. I just feel so lost without you.”

You opened his door slowly, knowing fully well that he wouldn’t be able to hear you knock over the loud noise coming from the party and his own blue-toned song. Both of you stood there in shock as your eyes met. Yuta was sitting on his bed with Taeil’s guitar in his lap and a notebook laid open next to him while you stood in the middle of his doorway, hand still on the knob.

Oh, how you missed the sight of him, even when he was dressed as simply as he was right now with just a grey t-shirt and black shorts sporting the logo of his favorite soccer team. “Yuta, we need to talk” you blurted out, stopping yourself from ogling him any further.

“Alright.” He complied, closing the notebook as you sat at the foot of his bed.

You take in a deep breath before starting. “I’m pretty sure you know this already, but I like you,” pausing to regather yourself and push through the rest of the speech you practiced in your head, “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about you recently and I just want to settle this whole thing once and for all.”

Yuta nodded while picking at his fingers which you could see were now raw from playing the guitar so much, making you wonder just how often he was on it. “I’ve been thinking about you too...a lot,” he said as he looked up at you, “and I think I have an answer for you.”

You plant your hand down next to you on his bed, resting your weight on it and letting your head loll to the side as you raise an eyebrow at him asking him to continue. “I like you too, and I know the way I’ve been acting doesn’t really show that but I’m just scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of getting hurt again.” Yuta said, letting his head rest in his hands.

“Yuta, you know I would never cheat on you.”

“That’s what she told me too, but people can be deceiving.”

“Look, I’m not her,” you pointed out to him, “and I’m telling you right now that I would not even think about cheating on you.”

“Yeah, well, things can change.” Yuta let out exasperatedly.

“So you should change with them. You’re not going to grow unless you accept those changes.”

He went silent for a bit before looking up at you. “Teach me how to accept them, then.”

“What do you mean by that?” You ask him, your eyes meeting his.

“Show me that you’re different. Prove to me that not all change is bad.”

You moved closer to him as he spoke, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him. “I will.”

Yuta’s eyes fluttered shut and you felt as he shakily exhaled before he reopened his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and this time it was your eyes that closed as Yuta connected his lips to yours. Within a few seconds, you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you allowed and gave him a sense of dominance before letting your tongue dance with his while gently pushing him down onto the bed.

He whined as he broke the kiss and rolled both of you over, switching your positions, preferring to smother your body with his, making you giggle at his actions. “Thank you for asking this time.” You told him, referencing the first time he had kissed you.

“I was drunk, okay? I wasn’t thinking straight and I just wanted to kiss you so badly.” Yuta groaned, grinding his growing erection on your hip at the last part.

“Oh you wanna kiss me so bad huh?” You teased.

You could’ve sworn he let out a growl right then before responding “fuck yeah I do” and reconnecting your lips to his. After fighting your tongue yet again, he pulled away and slowly opened his now lust-filled eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” you let out breathlessly, “I want it.”

“Who do you want?” He questioned as he slipped his hands under your shirt, gently kneading your breasts while kissing along your jaw and down your neck.

“You.”

“Baby, say my name.”

“Yuta, I want you.”

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name.” He said as he pulled his shirt off, throwing it down to the floor as you sat up and did the same.

The second your shirt was off, Yuta’s hands were already undoing the clasp of your bra, tossing it to the side as well before pushing you back down and running his hands over your breasts. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples as his hand played with the other.

You let out a whine as he pushed his erection against your clit, making you feel your own arousal that had started leaking out onto your underwear. Yuta glanced up at you, smirking, as he heard the sound you made. “Someone’s getting needy.” He kissed his way down your abdomen, sitting back once he reached the waistband of your pants, pulling them off along with your underwear.

He groaned as he took in all of your naked beauty, telling you “you’re so fucking hot” as he spread your legs and brought his face down to your folds and licking a long strip upwards. He repeated this motion a few times before you let out a frustrated moan at his teasing.

Yuta laughed at your desperation until your hand wove it’s way into his hair and pushed him closer to where you wanted him most. He seemed to get the message as he dove in, allowing you to get lost in the feeling of his tongue swirling around and pressing at your entrance.

You weren’t expecting it when you suddenly felt him pressing a finger into you, though you enjoyed the sensation of it and raised your hips to feel more, only to be met with Yuta’s free hand coming down on your stomach, holding you down. He waited for you to relax before inserting a second digit, then a third as he started to speed up and finger fuck you open.

He was reaching places inside of you that you had never reached before but you still wanted more. “Yuta,” you breathed out, “just fuck me already.”

“Well when you say it like that, there’s no way I can resist” he said, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he sat up, his erection bobbing as he tugged off his ripped jeans, freeing it from its confines.

“Condom” you tell him.

“Oh, you’re one of those girls,” he snickered, earning him a smack on the arm from you, “I’m just kidding, jeez, I don’t want to have to be responsible for a child just yet.” He defended as he reached over and stuck his hand into one of the drawers of his nightstand.

“I’m not risking getting pregnant when I can barely pay my tuition.” You quipped back at him.

“Fair enough.” Yuta remarked as he ripped open the package and rolled the condom over his already leaking cock.

He crawled over you, his elbows coming to rest next to either side of your head. “Are you sure you want this?” He asked as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Are you sure want this?” You countered to him, both of you knowing fully well what you meant since once he went through with this, there was no turning back. Yuta was promising himself to you just as you had done to him.

You watched as his eyes found yours, “I want this, I want you, I want us.” With that he pushed himself into you, both of you letting out sinful moans as he bottomed out.

He barely gave you time to adjust before he started slowly rocking his hips as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer while your hands found their way into his brightly colored locks. Just as he began to accelerate his movements, thrusting harder and faster, his door swung open.

Mark walked in casually, “hey, Yuta have you seen Taeil’s- holy shit i’m so sorry” he exclaimed once he realized the situation.

Yuta didn’t even pause as he told Mark “it’s on the floor.”

If you weren’t struggling to hold back your lewd sounds in the presence of your best friend, you would’ve laughed at how Mark snatched up the guitar and bolted out of the room, muttering “guess we’re even now, y/n” as he shut the door.

You let out a whimper as Yuta hit your spot the second the door closed. “Fuck, right there.”

He pushed himself into you a few more times before suddenly rolling over, bringing you to straddle him. “Ride me” he commanded, one of his hands coming to rub your clit. You began bouncing on his lap and clenched around him, drawing a moan from him. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

“Good, I'm not going to either.” You informed him, already feeling the knot in your stomach begging to be released.

Your thighs were starting to become sore though you didn’t want to stop. Yuta noticed your change of pace, bringing both his hands up to your hips as he began thrusting up into you. You let out a cry as he managed to brush against your most sensitive areas, causing an orgasm to wash over you.

His movements slowly only for a bit as he let you take control, riding out your high before firmly grasping your hips again and bouncing you on himself, relishing in the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around him.

Staying true to his word, Yuta came shortly after you, filling the condom with his cum. He continued to push himself up into you until it became too much and he pulled out with a hiss. Yuta gently you down on his bed before getting up to dispose of the condom in the trash bin next to his nightstand.

You welcomed him with open arms as he climbed back into bed, his own arms wrapping around your waist as he began pressing light kisses across your collarbone as he broke the silence. “So does this make us a thing?”

“Depends on what you mean by that.” You tell him, wanting him to clearly voice his thoughts.

“Are we official?” He clarified.

“Only if you want us to be.”

Yuta smiled up at you. “y/n, Yuta’s girl, I like the sound of that.” You leaned down to press a kiss to his lips before he spoke again. “That song was about you, by the way”

“I figured that much.” You stated as you pushed his hair out of his face.

He giggled as he told you “I wrote it after jacking off to the thought of you.”

“Okay, you didn’t have to tell me that.” He let out a full laugh this time as he rolled both of you onto your sides and brought his forehead to rest against yours.

“Gosh, as if you weren’t clingy enough before this.” You joke, playfully kissing his nose.

“I’m all yours now.” Yuta cooed, his arms pulling your still naked body impossibly closer to his.

804 notes · View notes

firstofficerwiggles · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Link to Chpt. 6, Link to Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, fingering, helmet stays on, explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), canonical violence

Word count: 12.5K (another long one for you because I don’t know how to edit enough)

Author’s Note: We’re still on Angel One because I wasn’t done playing there. If you’re interested in the setting, I’ve based the historic part of the city on Toledo, Spain. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

When you awake the next morning, it feels like you have had the best sleep of your life, despite spending so much of the night making love with Din. You feel utterly blissed out and although some of your muscles ache, it’s the most delicious feeling. You feel him stirring next to you, and you remind yourself that you have to wait to take off the sleep mask until you know it’s safe.

“Go-od morning, cyar’ika,” Din says through a yawn, “Gimme a minute to get the helmet.”

“Of course,” you reply stretching out in the bed, and as you do, your stomach lets out a loud growl. You’re embarrassed, especially as you hear Din laughing softly.

“Did you work up an appetite?” he asks, “I know I’m starving after all that activity.”

You blindly throw a pillow in the direction of his voice and he just laughs harder.

“Careful, my dear, you might break something,” he admonishes you playfully. You hear his footsteps come closer to you and something fluffy lands in your hands.

“You can take the mask off now,” Din says, his voice sounding modulated again and you know he has the helmet back on. You slide the satin mask off your head and store it safely in the nightstand and you see that he’s brought you one of the robes to wear. You’re just slipping it on when you hear a knock at the door. You’re getting ready to hop out of bed and answer it, when Din tells you,

“I’ll get it; no one else needs to see you like this but me.” He’s only half dressed in his trousers himself, but he throws on the other robe to answer the door.

His comment about your appearance makes you curious, so you get out of bed anyway but head to the large bathroom instead. In the mirror, you see a woman who looks well loved. Your hair is mussed, your lips are slightly swollen, and there are several marks, Din’s love bites, on your neck and chest. You smile back at your reflection and think you’ve never looked better.

You hear the door close and so you head back out to see what that was all about and find Din in the sitting room area with a large cart laden with breakfast foods. Mistress Sigrid may be a bit much, but at least she’s a great hostess. You immediately dig in to the delicious spread as Din chuckles at your eagerness. You make a plate, flop down on the sofa, and turn yourself so you’re facing away from him.

“Go ahead and eat, Din, I know you’re hungry too,” you say, “I promise I won’t look.”

“I know, I trust you,” he says and you hear him get his own breakfast too.

You enjoy your food and the time spent chatting with Din about various other things last night. Turns out, he got a lot more information about the Jubilee from the men.

“Today there’s a sort of bazaar with arts and crafts and cultural demonstrations,” he’s telling you, “Trent promised to show us all the best booths.”

“That was nice of him,” you say.

“And there’s a big set up for this competition that they have amongst the women. Today they announce the challengers and then tomorrow the contest begins,” Din explains.

“I bet it will be entertaining to watch, the women here seem so skilled, it will probably be some type of combat contest or at least something athletic,” you speculate.

“There’s also an interesting prize system for it,” he lets of a huff of laughter, “Apparently the women get to choose the man they want for the night based on the order that they finish - so it’s a prime time for a woman to steal a guy she’s had her eye on.”

“What? That sounds so sexist, I mean towards men, which I know sounds weird, but, ew.” The idea just seems wrong to you, but then you think about how you’re only seeing this from your perspective and say, “But, I know I shouldn’t be judging their culture by my norms, and if this is what works for them, then so be it.”

“It seems odd to me too,” Din says, “But the men last night were pretty excited about it, it’s a pretty big honor to be selected by the winner for them.”

“Well at least we’ll just get to be spectators,” you say.

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Once you’re ready for the day, you head back to the nursery to collect the child. He’s very excited to see you both and toddles over to you as quickly as his tiny legs will carry him. He’s clearly had a great time and is wearing a flower crown and a new beaded necklace.

“Hi buddy, look at you! I love your new accessories!” You say scooping him up. He leans in for a hug and then makes grabby hands towards Din. You hand him over, as Gregor is coming up to you with a little bundle.

“Your little one was such a dear and he played so well with the other children,” he tells you, “And he had a great time with arts and crafts, he’s just a little natural.”

You open up the bundle to find two more beaded necklaces, one in pinks and reds and the other in blues and greens.

“These are so pretty, buddy, did you make them?” you ask the child who is cooing happily at you. “Let me guess, is the pink one for me?” He coos and giggles and you drape the necklace over your head.

“And is the blue one mine, kiddo?” Din asks and again the child makes a happy sound and you help Din put on his new necklace.

“What a beautiful family!” Gregor gushes, “Let me get a holo of the three of you.” Dutifully, you pose for a few holos including a few that Gregor snaps with your holopad too.

As your little party makes its way out of the state residence to head to the bazaar, you find Trent with a group of his friends in the foyer. They are all dressed to impressed and are also sporting flower crowns today.

“Oh Princess and Mando, hi!” Trent greets you enthusiastically, and then with a cheeky grin, “Someone had a wonderful night last night, didn’t they? I noticed you two sneaking off in the middle of the show.”

You feel a touch embarrassed but Trent’s happy grin makes you giggle in spite of yourself and you just say, “Oh, I’d never kiss and tell.”

This seems to delight all of Trent’s friends and they giggle right along with you, and you notice a couple of them checking out Din’s marks on your neck that are still very visible. They exchange knowing glances and you give them a wink.

“See, I told you she was charming,” Trent says and then proceeds to introduce you to his friends. The men greet Din enthusiastically too, most of them having met him last night.

“Oh, but Mando, you don’t have a flower crown,” one of the men, Chad, says with a note of disappointment in his voice.

“Don’t worry there’s always some nice ones you can buy at the bazaar,” another man says.

With that, you all head out to explore and enjoy the day. It’s a beautifully sunny day with a nice light breeze and the scent of flowers and delicious food wafting through the air. You can hear festive music playing and the sound of many happy people already out and about enjoying their holiday. This part of the city is a historic district with many very old stone buildings close together and narrow cobblestone streets that wind through the buildings before ending in large plazas. Large red banners adorned with various symbols hang off most every window and balcony that you pass, and beautiful floral garlands are draped across the streets between the buildings. Each of the plazas are ringed with vendor booths and each plaza appears to adhere to a particular theme for the wares. Trent directs you to the floral plaza and a stand with many flower crowns. You’ve never seen such beautiful flowers and in such a variety of pretty colors.

“They look really nice, I’d love a flower crown too,” you say a touch wistfully, and the men dissolve into laughter at the idea. You look around and realize, “Oh, wait, they’re just for men, aren’t they?”

Din steps up to look at the crowns more carefully. You can’t imagine he’ll really buy one for himself, but then he asks you, “Which ones do you like?”

You let your fingers touch the soft petals of a particularly beautiful one with red and yellow flowers that catches your eye, “I like this one best,” you say.

“And what’s second best?” Din asks, and you look a touch surprised, but maybe he doesn’t care for the red and yellow? You look through the others and land on another lovely crown of purple and white blooms.

“This one is also lovely,” you say softly.

“We’ll take these two,” Din says to the vendor, handing him a small handful of credits. He then picks up the red and yellow crown and gently places it on your head, enjoying the look of surprise on your face, before plopping the purple crown on top of his helmet.

“You’re a princess, you should have a crown if you want it,” Din tells you.

“Thank you,” you say, beaming at him.

“It actually looks really pretty on you,” Trent says, “Who knows, maybe it could be a new trend?”

You continue to explore the bazaar and eventually you meet up with several of the mistresses that you met the night before. They eye your flower crown with a snicker, but you figure they were already laughing at you anyway so why should you care. The only one who doesn’t do this is Eira, who politely tells you that it looks nice, and you decide she’s your favorite out of all the women you’ve met here. Eira introduces you to her lover, Bradley, who is a quieter man than Trent and his friends, but very nice. They invite you and Din to join them for a drink at one of the tavern booths, and the four of you fall into a comfortable conversation.

After a bit, Eira tells you that it’s time to head to the main plaza because the day’s program is scheduled to begin soon. Arriving at the plaza, you see a stage and several grandstands set up around it. Most of the stands are already full, but Eira leads you to seats in one of the front rows that have been reserved.

Mistress Sigrid walks out onto the stage to a podium that has been set up as a band plays a triumphant march. As the music swells, people stand and cheer. When the music ends, Sigrid welcomes you all,

“Hello, I hope you are all having a wonderful Jubilee of Astrid!”

“May she bless us!” the crowd replies enthusiastically.

“Please be seated as we begin our ceremonies,” she says.

What follows are a series of speeches about the importance of the holiday, the blessings of Astrid, and the prosperity that she is sure to bring each family. You’re only half listening and instead you let your mind wander to what it must be like to live in a place like this where you know you will celebrate together each year, a place where a family can spend a peaceful day together having fun. You look over at Din holding the child who is playing with the beads of Din’s necklace and you feel a pang of sadness in your heart. What would it be like if you could settle somewhere and have a real home, make friends, and spend time each day in plazas like this one? You know you’re letting your emotions get the best of you. After all, you haven’t even been together with Din for that long, so why are you picturing such a future already? Still though, now the image is in your mind.

“And of course, now we get to the main event,” Sigrid is saying, and you snap your attention back to her, “It’s time to announce the competition and challengers for Astrid’s Battle.”

“This year’s competition will consist of three rounds,” she announces, “In round one we have a test of agility, in round two, a challenge of intelligence, and then in round three, the show of strength. As each of our competitors finish a round, they will earn points based on the quality and speed in which they completed the tasks. Remember this means that even if someone doesn’t win any of the rounds, she could still end up the victor based on total points!”

The people around you cheer wildly and you do your best to applaud and look enthusiastic. Sigrid goes on to then introduce various women who come out on stage to receive cheers and take a bow. It isn’t until she gets to Mistress Lagertha when things unexpectedly take a nasty turn. Instead of coming out for just a bow, Lagertha heads to the podium.

“I am here to issue a special challenge, to our visiting princess.” Your head snaps up at her in alarm. “Your Highness, I dare you to compete for your Mando. If you should manage to place higher than me, then he’s yours, but if I out place you in the contest, he’s going home with me.”

You jump to your feet in utter shock at her audacity and you feel your body flood with anger. How dare she!

It is very quiet all of a sudden, as all eyes look to you. You try to reason with her at first, but your voice cannot hide your ire, “Mistress Lagertha, we are guests on your planet, and I regard this as highly unusual to request that I participate in this competition and that Mando be offered as a prize.”

“If you’re too scared to compete, then I’ll just take him now,” she smirks at you, openly mocking you in front of everyone.

You feel Din standing beside you, his body tense, and you know his fight mode is about to kick in, but that would be disastrous. You raise your head and give her the most intimidating glare you can muster, as you say, “Very well, I will accept on one condition, Mando is only a prize between you and me, no one else may compete for him.”

There is an immediate uproar at this and the crowd begins to gossip excitedly about this newest twist to the competition. Sigrid motions you to the stage, but before you can go, Din grabs your arm, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I think I do, unless we want more trouble,” you tell him and you make your way to the stage.

You are seething right now and you curse yourself for ever having thought of Lagertha as friendly. Your outrage makes you walk with intention and when you take the stage, you know you’re going to show these women that you might be smaller in stature than they are but you are still a powerful woman in your own right.

“Do we have an agreement?” you ask Lagertha your voice cold. It’s a tone you learned from your days with the Empire and from the way her eyes widen, you can tell it has an effect on Lagertha. She gives you a curt nod.

“I’ll need more of a guarantee, Mistress Sigrid, that no one else will compete for Mando.” You look at her with hard eyes, you may be wearing a flower crown, but the pretty, delicate princess is all gone.

“So you will join the competition? Compete for Mando’s affections?” Mistress Sigrid asks rather surprised.

“I will, but only if my stipulation is met,” you reply sharply.

“Very well, only yourself or Lagertha may claim Mando,” Sigrid confirms. She then turns to the crowd and announces you as the final competitor. You take a small bow like the others, but you keep your eyes trained on Din.

When you exit the stage both Din and Eira are there to meet you. Din takes you by the shoulder and brings you in close so he can speak directly in your ear,

“Are you certain you want to do this? We can just leave now, take our chances,” Din urges you.

“No one can find us here, this is the safest place for now,” you reason with him, “And if I need to play their game to help keep us here, then I will. No woman is just going to take you from me.” Din sees your eyes flash with that statement, and he feels humbled by the intensity of your affection for him. I don’t deserve her.

“I can help you prepare,” Eira is saying, “I’ve competed many times and honestly the competition doesn’t change much from year to year.”

“I would appreciate any help, Eira,” you reply, “And I can still beat Lagertha on total points, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Eira confirms, “Let’s go back to our house and we can talk strategy.”

Din, the child, and you follow Eira and Bradley back to their home as she tells you about her experiences with Astrid’s Battle.

“The first two rounds will be tomorrow. The agility challenge is always some type of obstacle race, the obstacles change from year to year, but generally you have to have decent balance, be able to climb, and be light on your feet,” she explains.

“Your smaller size may give you an advantage there,” Din says encouragingly, “And I’ve seen you carry a tray a food, the child, and several of his toys around the Crest with no problem, so balance should also be a skill for you.”

“My best shot at earning points though is going to be the intelligence test,” you say, “What does that usually consist of?”

“Typically, it’s some type of really hard puzzle or riddle,” Eira tells you, “It’s a real challenge, but I know that Lagertha isn’t good at riddles, so you do stand a good chance there.”

“That would be right in my skillset, so I’ll hope for the best there.” You feel much more confident that you can do well on that section and if you’re fast enough it might be enough to keep you competitive with Lagertha.

“The part that worries me the most is the strength competition,” Eira is saying, “Because that is almost always hand-to-hand combat. It’s on the following day because it’s usually done in tournament style.”

“I’ve given her some training, but if she could spar with you, that would be helpful to see the fighting style you use here,” Din suggests.

For the next couple hours, you spar and practice with Eira and Din in the grassy area behind Eira’s house. The two of them give you various pointers about how to best hold your own and use your smaller size to your advantage. It’s good that Din’s training has focused on that too, because it doesn’t feel too foreign to you. At the very least, you feel like you won’t make a complete fool out of yourself thanks to their advice. Bradley has kindly been watching the child the whole time as they sit on the sidelines and cheer you on. There was a tense moment at first when Eira kept mysteriously falling down as she went to attack you, but thankfully, Din realized what was happening and hurried over to lower the little green hand. Eira just figured she had slipped on something and didn’t get suspicious.

When you’re taking a break, you pull the little one close to you and whisper in his ear, “I appreciate the help, buddy, but save it for the real competition in case I really need it.” You give him a kiss and he makes his happy, snuffly baby sounds.

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Later that evening, you’re resting in your room back in the state residence. Din is insistent that you save all your energy for tomorrow, and while you know he’s right, you can’t help yourself from giving him suggestive looks anyway after the child is safely in his pram for the night.

“Cyar’ika, you’re supposed to be getting ready for bed,” he admonishes, “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You’re already a distraction,” you say playfully. Nevertheless, you know you could use more rest given that last night wasn’t exactly full of sleeping. So you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face for the night. You’re starting at yourself in the mirror again, but this time doubt starts to creep in as you consider how much stronger and bigger Lagertha is. You have no idea how she might do in the intelligence competition, either.

When you come back to the bedroom, you ask Din, “Do you think I have any chance tomorrow?”

“Of course I do,” he insists strongly, “If I didn’t I’d already have you and the kiddo in hyperspace.”

He’s direct, and you know he means it. Your face must still show your doubt though, because he comes over and pulls you into his arms.

“Cyar’ika, you are going to be great. These women underestimate you; they’re too wrapped up in their own ideas of superiority to see who you really are.”

“Who I really am?” you repeat to him, wondering how he sees you.

“A brave, intelligent woman who knows how to survive,” Din says sincerely, “And the only one who can win this Mando’s affections.”

You hug him tighter to you as he says that and then you lean up to place a kiss on his helmet where his mouth would be.

“Close your eyes,” Din says, and when you do, he pushes up the helmet so he can lean in and take your lips in his. His kiss is tender and loving, and when he pulls away, you feel content again.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“Thank you, Din,” you say softly.

“For kissing you?” he asks, a little amused.

“For believing in me.”

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You’re filled with anticipation and anxiety as you wait for your turn to begin the obstacle course in the agility portion of Astrid’s Battle. You’re thankful that Eira was able to brief you on this part because now it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. The course is set up with various sections where you must cross a narrow bridge or make your way over an unstable surface designed to test your balance. There are also several climbing walls to surmount, and a crawl through swampy, muddy area that you are not looking forward to completing. You have an advantage however, of being in the middle of the pack of competitors because you can watch the women who run the course before you and see how they attempt the obstacles. In some cases, there are two options for a path, and you’re quickly learning which path will be best for you. As each woman runs the course, two announcers provide a play-by-play of her progress and updates on the time. It seems like most women finish in around 15 minutes, but you can get time added to your clock as a penalty if you make a mistake on the course.

Suddenly it’s your turn to start and as you hear the buzzer sound, you jolt into action. As you’ve been watching the others, you pre-planned your route in your head and as you bound across the first obstacle, a net that makes you bounce as you run on it, you tell yourself to focus on the plan and to shut out any distractions. One thought keeps your legs pumping and your eyes sharp, she won’t take Din from me.

Din is sitting in the stands holding the child on his lap as he watches you compete. Maker, he’s not even in the competition but his heart is beating fast with nervous energy as he watches you on the course. He’s glad that Eira and Bradley are with him because these new friends seem just as invested in your success as he is. You’re doing really well on the balancing apparatuses, and each time you cross one, Din cheers out for you. But, you’re having less success with the climbing walls, as unfortunately with those, your shorter height gives you a disadvantage. You aren’t able to reach as far as the other women, so it takes you longer to get over each one. Still, each time you do, he’s so proud of you. You’re almost to the end of the course now and all that’s left is the muddy crawl. Din knows you’ll hate that part as one time the kid got himself and then you, covered in mud and it was clear you did not enjoy it. So when he sees you dive into the mud like it’s nothing, giving it your all, he feels honored that you’re trying so hard to win him. Of course, there’s no chance in hell he’s going to let Lagertha anywhere near him if she should happen to outscore you in the competition. However, he kept that to himself so that you would focus on doing your best with the challenges and not worrying about the ensuing fight that might be necessary.

Positively filthy, you push yourself off the ground and sprint as hard as you can towards the finish line. When you cross, your lungs are burning and you can hardly see with all mud on your face, but you smile as you hear the announcer state your time, 20 minutes and 38 seconds, a respectable time for someone who’s never competed in anything like this.

You head over to an area where outdoor showers have been set up so you can wash off the mud. The water is cool and refreshing as it runs over you, and you appreciate it, as you take in the moment, happy that this first part is finished. You’re wiping your face with a towel and when you can successfully see again, you look up to your favorite sight. Din and the little one come over to give you a hug and a Keldabe kiss.

“You did amazing, cyar’ika,” Din says his voice full of pride, “The announcers and everyone around us were really impressed too. You didn’t even get any penalties.”

“That’s good to hear, but I just hope it’s enough--” your statement gets cut off as you hear the announcers say Lagertha’s name excitedly.

“Yes, folks, it’s a new round one record for Mistress Lagertha at only 10 minutes and 32 seconds!”

Your heart drops at that news. She completed the course twice as fast as you did, and with a new record, she’s likely to be in first place going into the next part of the contest.

Din sees your expression and he leans down to tell you, “Don’t give up yet, I know she doesn’t have the brains to beat you in the next part.”

You look at him with wary eyes, “Maker, I hope not,” is all you can say.

After cleaning up, you’re ushered into a special lunch with the other competitors. Your completion time has placed you in the bottom half of the competitors, but you’re fortunate to see that you’re actually closer to the middle than you expected to be. There are several women with worse completion times because either they had many penalties or they were actually slower than you. It gives you a little bit of confidence as does the fact that many of the women have come up to congratulate you on making it this far.

“Well, look who’s still with us,” Lagertha strolls up to you as the luncheon is ending. She flanked by two friends taking a classic mean girl approach. It’s clear some things are universal no matter what planet you’re on.

“Congratulations on your record,” you say graciously. You know she wants to bait you into an argument, so you plan to stay cool and collected and deny her the satisfaction of seeing you upset. It’s a tactic you’ve seen Din use when people get mouthy with him.

“Why thank you! Aren’t you sweet?” She makes it sound like an insult. One of her friends rolls her eyes.

“I’m looking forward to the next round, I do enjoy an intellectual challenge,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s something that your little head can handle,” she gives you a smirk as her friends snicker rudely. You’re getting really fed up with this elitist attitude they have.

Nonetheless, you swallow your anger and say, “Thanks.” But you know your eyes are showing your true feelings and it just seems to amuse her and her nasty friends all the more. You sigh, hold your head up high and just walk away from them heading into the room where the next round will be held. You hear shouts of laughter at your back but now it’s just fuel for your fire as you are determined to be outstanding in this next challenge.

You’re seated at a desk with a holopad and a camera designed to film you as you work on the puzzles and broadcast it on a large screen to the audience. It also allows the judges to see you in action and ensure that no cheating takes place. You feel more nervous than you anticipated because you didn’t think about everyone watching your every move. But then you look over to the stands and see the flash of beskar, even though he’s across the room from you, you can feel Din’s energy like a lifeline reaching out to you. It calms you and although you’re nervous, you know you can handle this.

Mistress Sigrid comes out to start the second round and announce the puzzles. She looks right at you and gives you a small nod that you take as encouragement before she says, “Welcome everyone to Round Two of the Battle of Astrid! This year’s intellectual challenge will ask our competitors to decipher three messages written in three unique and puzzling styles. This year will be a real brain workout as our third message features a real code used during wartime. Competitors may ‘purchase’ hints to the puzzles in the form of time with a more useful hint costing more time. Are we ready to begin?”

Thank the fucking Maker! The second challenge is codebreaking! You can’t believe your luck and when Sigrid hits the buzzer to start the competition and the first puzzle appears on your screen, you have a huge smile on your face.

The first code is a simple substitution cipher and is the type of code that children use when they’re writing secret messages, and with the free hint providing the first substitution, there is no challenge for you at all. You solve the code in three minutes. When your holopad confirms that your answer is correct, the next puzzle is displayed. You hear an impressed sound come from the crowd around you along with the surprised voice of the announcer saying that you are already on to the second puzzle.

You feel your confidence soar as you quickly glance up and see that no one else is even close to solving. The second code is much more complex and on first review, you believe it to be a shift cipher where each letter of the alphabet is shifted down to a new position. As you work, you notice that the code is actually a clever collection of multiple shifts in sequence. It’s a great platform for building a code and one that you might choose to use. It takes more work, but you feel like you’re in your element and everything around you falls away as you break the message. You realize you’ve got it and hit your button to submit. Suddenly you hear a large cheer when your correct message is confirmed, and look up to see that you’ve completed this round in just about 20 minutes. Another quick look at the other screens and you can see that you are now light-years ahead of anyone else, and more importantly, Lagertha has only just started the second puzzle.

When the third encoded message is displayed on your screen, you almost laugh out loud. The wartime code that Sigrid mentioned is an Imperial code that you not only recognize, it’s one that you helped create. You identify your own special coding signature and everything. Again, you can’t believe your luck, and you think the Maker really must be smiling down on you today. It’s not even a challenge for you. It takes you five minutes to decode the message and that’s only because it was a fairly long paragraph. When you hit submit and the correct message is confirmed, no one can believe it. The audience goes absolutely wild and the judges come rushing over to review your work. The competition is paused for the other competitors so that everyone can verify the results. There are some angry shouts demanding to see your work. But after a quick review of your holopad, there’s no denying it, you are correct and you have won the round.

“In a stunning turn of events, we have an incredible new record for the intelligence challenge,” Mistress Sigrid announces to the stunned crowd. “For the first time ever, a woman has completed this round in less than 30 minutes. Princess, please take a bow.”

You stand and take your bow, feeling a rush of true success and luck, and for the first time today, you breathe a sigh of relief. You hurry over to sit with Din and the child so that you can watch the rest of the competition now that it has resumed.

“You were incredible, I had no idea you were that good,” Din tells you, “I mean, I knew you were smart, but, cyar’ika, that was outstanding.”

“I was good, but I was also extremely lucky,” you whisper to him, “I’ll explain later.” If anyone were to hear about how you were able to break the code so quickly, it might lead to allegations of cheating and who knows what other problems.

Eira and Bradley also express their admiration for your performance and Eira even throws her arms around you in a bear hug. You’re so grateful to have at least a few other people supporting you.

You watch the competition, mostly for Lagertha but also smugly curious to see how the women do with breaking your code. You know it’s petty, but when you see how much everyone is struggling with it, you feel an upwelling of pride within you. No one is able to make any progress at all without purchasing at least three hints. This feeling of superiority grows especially as you watch Lagertha purchase every possible hint, costing her precious time, and then still struggle to solve it. When she does eventually figure it out, her time comes in at just over four hours.

After the competition ends for the day, everyone is ushered into a special dinner where the rankings will be announced for tomorrow’s strength challenge. You sit nervously next to Din poking at your food and then feeding most of it to the baby. You pray that your unbeatable score in the intelligence challenge will garner you a great position for this final hurdle.

“Remember if you’ve placed high enough, you might only have to fight in a couple matches,” Eira explains, “Hell, with that score you pulled off in Round Two, you’re looking really great.” You know from her earlier coaching that a high score will put you into one of the higher rounds of the tournament automatically reducing the number of women you’ll need to take on in the strength competition.

Finally, Mistress Sigrid is at her podium next to a giant screen and is ready to reveal the results. You listen restlessly as she announces the competitors in reverse order from bottom to top finishers. You keep waiting to see your ranking, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. Shockingly, Lagertha’s name is revealed in sixth place, and then even more astonishingly, you listen as Sigrid declares that you have rocketed your way into second place.

“It is unprecedented to see such a meteoric rise in this battle, but I believe we all owe our off-world princess a round of applause for her cunning mind,” Sigrid praises you, and you nod blindly in your bewilderment.

“I can’t believe I pulled that off,” you say to Din.

“It’s great, because it means you’ll only have two fights at the most, because you automatically advance to the final four!” Eira practically squeals at you.

At the thought of the fights, your glow of success and hopefulness starts to fade and the reality of having to fight at least one if not two of these giant women settles on your shoulders. It must show on your face, because you feel Din lean in close to you and place a hand on your arm.

“Hey, don’t fret,” Din is saying to you, “Best case scenario, Lagertha is defeated in an earlier round and then you can just concede and come in fourth.”

“True, but there’s still a chance I have two matches that I need to win tomorrow, and I don’t know if I can even manage one,” you tell him honestly.

“Yes, you can, I know you can,” he replies and he takes your hand interlocking his fingers with yours. It’s a small gesture but it has an instant effect and you feel warmed by his faith in you.

When you return to your room, you look around and decide that maybe it will be a good idea to pack up your belongings, just in case you need to make a hasty exit from this place. Something is nagging at your mind, but you can’t figure out what it is. There’s just a feeling that something is going to go wrong. The packing serves as a good outlet for the uneasy energy that has taken over your body, but you don’t really have that much stuff and after it’s all organized, you turn your attention to the child. He likes to be rocked to sleep and so you start to do that, but then your frazzled nerves and racing mind turn rocking into pacing until Din steps in.

“Let me take him, cyar’ika,” he says gently, “You’re keeping him awake you’re moving so quickly.”

“Oh, I, I’m sorry,” you say sounding distracted.

“It’s ok,” he says as he reaches for the child, “You go get ready for bed.”

You listen to him and go through your nightly ablutions, but still there is something toying with the edge of your thoughts, something that you’re missing. When Din comes into the bedroom, you’re sitting straight up in bed nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you replay various moments from the day in your head.

“My love, you need to relax,” Din says with a soft sigh, “You’re getting yourself so worked up you’ll never sleep.”

“How did Sigrid get that code, Din?” you ask, having identified that as the primary source for your frustration.

“What do you mean?” he questions confused.

“You know how I said I got lucky in the code-breaking competition,” you say, “That third code was an Imperial Code, it was my code, or at least one that I helped create.”

“That’s why you solved it so quickly,” he realizes.

“Yes, but how did they get it, and how did they know how it worked in order to make into one of their puzzles?” This is the question that has been wracking your brain.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation, cyar’ika,” Din says calmly, trying to help you settle down, “Remember, the Rebellion had code-breakers too and it’s possible someone on their side broke that code.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” you say, “And then maybe they made those documents public after the war?” It sounds possible, but your voice is still full of doubt and unease.

“Yes, it’s likely that’s what happened,” Din says. He looks at you for a long moment and then says, “Take off your nightgown and lie down on your stomach. I’m going to rub your back to help you relax.”

“I’m naked under this,” you say automatically, still distracted by your turbulent thoughts.

He chuckles, “Well, I was hoping that I’d get the privilege of seeing you naked again, but honestly this will just help me massage you better.”

“Oh right, of course,” you say, letting out a shaky laugh yourself as you pull off your nightgown and lie down.

You try to will yourself to relax as you feel his large, warm hands begin to sweep over the muscles of your back. His fingers knead into you and start to relieve the tension in your shoulders as he works out the little knots there. His hands move down your spine stretching and soothing the muscles. When he gets to the part of your lower back that always seems stiff, you let out a little moan as he helps relieve the pain there. He gently runs his hand over your bare backside and you feel a little spike of desire before he moves on to massage your thighs. He massages all down your legs, working out sore spots you didn’t realize you had. When he gets to your feet, you’re feeling so much better, you almost forget why you were so worked up.

“Turn over,” Din tells you. You comply, a little confused, but you figure he knows what he’s doing.

He keeps massaging your feet for a while longer, and then starts to move up your legs again. As he reaches your thighs again, he starts to nudge them apart and you watch as he climbs up on the bed. His touch starts to change and you realize he’s staring between your legs now and it’s turning you on.

“What are you doing, Din?” You have a pretty good idea, but you want to hear him say it.

“I’m going to make sure you’re completely relaxed, cyar’ika, the best way I know how,” he tells you with determination.

Now his hands are right on either side of your pussy and again he just stares for a moment before he lets his fingers begin to explore your most sensitive flesh.

“Do you like to look at me, Din?” you ask in a sultry voice.

“I love to look at you like this,” he says gruffly, “So beautiful when you’re open for me.” You hum your approval in response as his fingers apply more pressure and start to circle your entrance.

“You get so wet,” Din tells you, “I love how responsive you are to me.” He plunges his long middle finger of his right hand inside of you and you cry out softly at how good it feels. His left hand is now playing with your clit as two of his fingers roll and pinch it between them. Gently, he adds a second finger to the first one inside you, moving them in and out and swirling them around reaching deep within you. His motions are unhurried and you relax even more into his touch. Every so often, he crooks his fingers upward, making you moan out his name. It feels so good and his pace is so steady that the pleasure builds slowly and even as you know you’re reaching your climax, it feels like you are floating towards it rather than hurtling there like you usually do. This time it’s not a race for release; instead, it’s like he’s trying to draw it out of you as gradually as possible. When you do finally reach your peak, it is blissful and you moan his name out contentedly.

As your breathing returns to normal, you tell him, “You’re right, Din, I feel so much better, so relaxed.” Your mind is finally quiet, “Give me a few minutes and then I’ll help you feel good.”

“No, cyar’ika, this was all about you,” Din says gently, “I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep now.”

“You sure?” you ask, but you can’t deny you do feel very sleepy already.

“I’m positive,” he says. You feel him pull the blankets up around you and then he carefully places the sleep mask over your eyes. You hear the telltale sound of his helmet coming off and then you feel his soft lips against yours. When you settle back into your pillow, you feel drowsy and peaceful. When Din’s arms come around you and he pulls your body against his, you’re already drifting off.

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

The strength competition is a master class in hand-to-hand combat. You watch from the warm-up area with the other competitors, awed by how powerful and skilled these women are at their sport. You have only a shred of hope that you will be able to put up a good showing in the competition and you’re desperately wishing for someone else to take out Lagertha for you. So far though, she looks to be in her element. She fought off her first two challengers handily and while it gave you an opportunity to study her fighting style, it mostly just scared the pants off you. Now Lagertha just has one more woman to beat and if she does, you’ll have to fight her. At least she was randomly selected to be on your side of the tournament bracket, otherwise you’d have to be sure to advance to the final round and beat her there.

Din and the baby come over to stand with you, as you get ready to watch Lagertha’s next match. Din places his arm around your shoulders helping to calm you. You take the child into your arms, since you know his sweet presence with help you feel better too.

“Look, see how she drops her shoulder there,” Din points out, “That’s a good opportunity to land a painful hit.” You nod as you listen to his advice.

“Oh, and there, you see how she puts all her balance on her front foot when she throws that cross,” he shows you another weakness, “If you can kick at her other leg when she does that, you’ll knock her down for sure.”

You turn and look at him, really look him, as he’s still trying to coach you up until the last possible moment. As you watch him, a sense of happiness and calm comes over you. It dawns on you that Din will always be on your side, rooting for you, believing in you, and nothing will change that. He really is the best man you have ever known. You slide your arm around his waist and rest yourself against his body and you let his continued advise wash over you. No matter what happens, you know you are going to fight your heart out for him; it’s what he deserves.

You watch resigned as Lagertha defeats her opponent and you know the time has come. There’s a short break between the matches, so you have a few minutes with your guys before you have to step into the fighting ring.

“Thank you for all your help,” you say to Din as you pull his helmet down to meet your forehead, “I’m going to fight like hell for you.”

Then you shift your attention to the child on your hip, and turn him around so you’re facing each other. You look deep into his eyes, and whisper to him, “If you do end up helping, just try to be subtle, OK?” You lean down and give him a kiss on his forehead. He coos at you like he understands, and you cross your fingers that he won’t try to fling Lagertha across the arena.

“So, little princess, are you ready to get that butt kicked?” Lagertha jeers at you as you enter the ring.

“I’m ready to fight for Mando,” you tell her with determination, “He’ll never be yours. Besides, I doubt you’d even know what to do with him.”

“Oh you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Lagertha snaps back at you, and maybe you hit a nerve.

You smirk at her as you reply, “I think the intelligence contest proved that yesterday already, or did you forget?”

Lagertha is seething at you now, “You little bitch, I’m going to destroy you.”

In getting her good and angry, you can see she’s throwing out her strategy and is going into blind attack mode. You think one more biting remark will really push her off her game and it might cause her to make a mistake. “At least I don’t have to win a man in a contest to make him mine,” you taunt her, your voice condescending.

Lagertha lunges at you before the buzzer has even sounded, but in her anger she telegraphs the move and you dodge her attack just as Din showed you. The referee for the match blows her whistle and signals a penalty for Lagertha.

“None of that!” the referee snaps, “Get back and wait for the buzzer!”

You can see that Lagertha is vibrating with anger and although you know it’s risky to keep making her mad, it is keeping her unbalanced and sloppy, so you wink at her and smirk in her direction.

When the buzzer sounds and the referee signals the start of combat, Lagertha charges at you again in her rage. You can see that all of her weight is leaning forward with her momentum and so you duck and throw out a kick to her knee that knocks her to the ground. You quickly move away from her though so she can’t grab you and pull you down too. She scrambles to her feet and then runs towards you again. This time she’s better prepared, and when you land a blow to her ankle, it merely trips her up but she doesn’t fall. You figure your best strategy is to keep moving and dodging her as much as possible in hope of tiring her out. Din had pointed out to you that she’s already fought several matches and that making her chase you would be difficult for her. You can hear the crowd cheering the more you bob and weave and land a few small blows. You’re not doing a lot of damage to her, but it does seem to slow her down at least, and so far, you managed from getting hit by her. The more you do this, you hear the crowd sound begin to shift. The spectators are starting to laugh. It must look pretty funny you realize as you land your little hits and then run away from this giantess.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Lagertha threatens you as she finally makes contact with your body, punching you hard in the side. You flail a bit but manage to keep your feet and try to dart away again, but she reaches out and grabs your wrist, hauling your body back up against hers. It’s almost the same exact position from when Din first started training you and the memory of that runs through your mind as you automatically fight her off exactly the way he taught you in that first ever lesson.

As he watches you successfully break away from Lagertha’s hold, Din feels incredibly proud. Everything you’re doing is what he trained you to do. Although he hates the fact that he can’t be the one to fight and protect you, the feeling of seeing what you’ve learned from him is gratifying in a way he never knew it could be. He winces as Lagertha manages to punch you in the shoulder, but then it turns to a shout of praise as you land a good kick to her hip. You’re fighting so hard for him that it makes his heart ache and, rather unexpectedly, it’s turning him on quite a lot. That is until Lagertha manages to knock you to the ground hard, so hard that you cry out in pain and Din feels sick. He can see Lagertha rearing up so that she can drop her full weight on top of you in a crushing blow, but then it’s like she’s stuck for a moment or is second-guessing her move. It that split second, you manage to roll over and swing your legs around hard, sweeping Lagertha’s feet, making her stumble and fall. You pop up onto your feet again, but blessedly Lagertha stays down. It isn’t until the referee is blowing the whistle that Din looks down and see the child’s hand extended.

“Ok, that’s enough, kiddo,” Din says quietly to him, but he’s secretly pleased that the child helped you win.

You cannot believe what has happened as you stand there panting and swaying slightly on your feet. After the initial whistle blow, the referee came over to you and thrust your hand in the air, signaling that you were the winner of the match. But then, Lagertha finally made it to her feet and tried to hit you again, but ended up punching the referee. A small shouting match broke out at that and now the referee is conferring with the judges and Mistress Sigrid as Lagertha argues with them that something went wrong during the fight. You look over to Din and the child, and you can see that the little guy looks happy but rather sleepy, a sure sign of some force assistance. You hope nothing looked too out of the ordinary to the crowd.

“That’s enough, Lagertha,” Mistress Sigrid is saying angrily now, “Give it up! You challenged her and you lost; take it like a woman!”

You watch wide-eyed as Sigrid then comes over to you, raises your hand in the air again, and announces to the crowd, “The winner of this match!”

A sense of true relief washes over you and you feel tears of joy at your eyes. Knowing that the win isn’t entirely yours doesn’t bother you because you still fought hard, and you know that Lagertha can’t take Din away from you. You look around for him in the crowd again, but you don’t see him, and you’re starting to get concerned when suddenly he’s there in the ring with you, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around. He sets you down on your feet again as he brings his helmet down to your forehead and the two of you are oblivious to everyone else around you.

“You did it, cyar’ika,” Din tells you happily, his voice filled with admiration.

“I think I had a little help,” you whisper and then lean down and kiss the baby on the nose. He coos up at you softly and then slowly blinks his dark eyes.

“Ok, lovebirds, I think we know how this competition is going to end,” Sigrid is there chuckling as you finally pull away from Din’s embrace. “Technically you are supposed to fight Runa here in the final match of the competition.”

You see Runa standing there looking at you with respect and she says to you, “I’m not interested in your Mando, so if you want to concede, I’m happy to be the overall winner without another fight.”

“Yes, I wish to concede the next round and select Mando as my prize,” you state happily.

“Very well,” Sigrid says smiling big, “Congratulations on your performance and enjoy your prize!”

“Thank you, I will.”

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You emerge from the luxurious bathroom having had a restoring shower and a recovery drink with a healthy dose of bacta to heal your bruises from the fight. You feel like a new woman and the pride of your win is still pulsing through your veins along with lust for your Mandalorian. You hear Din in the bedroom now and he calls out to you,

“The kid’s asleep; he’s out for the night.” You figured as much since you know using his powers tends to tire him out quickly.

You drop the towel that was wrapped around your body and saunter out into the room naked. Din instantly drops what he’s doing and you know he’s starting at you. You smile suggestively at him and then make a show of looking him up and down.

“What are doing, cyar’ika?” he asks, he sounds aroused and entertained.

“Appreciating my prize,” you tell him saucily, “Get undressed so I can appreciate you even more.” So far, you’ve let him take the lead when it comes to the physical side of your relationship, but tonight you want to be in control. You wonder how far he’ll let you take it.

He tilts his helmet at you, as if to say, oh really?, but then he starts removing his armor as that black visor stays trained on you. This is a different side than you’ve shown him before and he likes it, so he’s eager to fulfill your request. As more of his layers are removed, you make little comments as he reveals his body to you. He stays quiet though; content to listen to your praise and suggestive remarks.

When the gloves come off, you say, “You have such nice strong hands, Din, and very skilled fingers.”

Then his cape, “I can still see the marks I made on your neck, do you remember how good that felt?”

Next is his shirt, “I love your big arms, they feel incredible when they’re wrapped around me. Oh and that gorgeous chest feels so good when I press against it.”

He leans down to remove his boots, this time you giggle, “I guess the big feet saying is true when it comes to you.”

Then his trousers are off, “Your thighs are so nice and thick, I wonder what it would be like to ride one.”

But then, his underwear slides down those thighs, “Oh, now that’s the prize I’m gonna ride.”

“Cyar’ika,” Din says his voice deep and gravely, and with that one word you can hear how turned on he is.

“Get on the bed and sit with your back against the headboard,” you tell him and watch as he moves quickly to comply. Watching him strip for you and ordering him about has you very turned on and you feel your wetness coating your inner thighs.

“I can see how wet you are from here,” Din tells you, “I like how turned on you get by just seeing me.”

You climb onto the bed and straddle Din’s legs with your own and his hands immediately come up to hold your waist. He tugs you down lightly but you stay up on your knees for now, wanting to tease him some more before you get too carried away.

“Touch my tits first,” you tell him and you reach to move his hands upward. His hands slide up your body to cup your breasts and then his fingers pinch and pull at your nipples teasing them into hard and needy little peaks. You let your head loll back and you push yourself further into his hands. You hold onto his arms and you gently let your hips become flush with his. You don’t let him enter you yet though, instead you just grind against him letting his hard cock brush through your wetness and rub against your clit in a delicious fashion. Din groans loudly at the contact and he bucks up into you in an attempt to create more friction.

“Not yet,” you say, “I want you to touch me more, first.” You lift back up off his hips, take his right hand from your chest, and guide it to your core.

“Make me come, Din, like only you can,” you order him and then you gasp as he pushes two fingers into you at once.

“Gladly, my princess,” he replies. Unlike his easy pace from the other day, this time his fingers plunder your tight passage, pushing in deeply without much warning. The swift invasion makes you cry out his name and you clench around him tightly. He rotates his hand so his thumb can circle your clit and your hips start to buck against him. You stare into the blackness of the visor and you know he’s watching your face even though you can’t see his eyes. There’s something about seeing that unreadable mask in front of you but hearing his harsh breathing that excites you even more.

“Yes, Din, yes, that’s it,” you moan out, as his fingers inside you focus on the spot that gives you the most pleasure. It feels so good that your thighs are starting to shake and you know you’re already close. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you hard and fast while his other hand tweaks your sensitive nipple in a perfect blend of stimulation.

“Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika? You gonna soak my hand?” Din’s voice urges you on and you rock on his fingers drawing out the sensation as much as possible before you feel your internal muscles fluttering around him as you come apart with a shout of his name.

“That’s my good girl,” he says and you watch as his fingers disappear beneath the helmet so that he can lick them clean.

“I’m ready to fully claim my prize now,” you say with a wink as you reposition yourself over his cock.

“Yeah, you gonna take me now? Make me yours?” Din asks his voice laced with amusement and lust. He reaches down to hold himself in position for you.

“Mmm, yes, I’m going take you, all of you,” you reply as you slowly start to sink down on him. You draw out your descent, pulling up a little before sinking down again, each time going a little lower and taking more of him. You can see that Din’s trying to hold himself still, but as you get closer to taking all of him, he can’t resist thrusting up into you those last few inches until he’s fully inside of you. It feels so good and you grind yourself against his body. Your hands are on his chest helping support you and you stare into his visor hoping that you’re making eye contact with him.

“You’re mine, Din,” you tell him as you start to lift off him and then come back down. You glide up and down on his cock finishing it with a grind against him each time.

“Say it again, say I’m yours,” he says as you start to find a rhythm to your movements.

“You’re mine, Din, you’re mine,” you repeat and his hands come to your hips to urge you to move faster on him.

“Tell me I’m only yours,” he demands and he starts to match your movements, thrusting his hips up into you. He feels so huge in this position and when he surges upward into you, the feeling is sublime.

“Only mine, Din, you’re only mine,” you breathe out as you start to bounce faster on him, riding him harder, “No… other woman… can have you… only me.”

“That’s fucking right,” Din says and his hand finds your clit again, rubbing frantic circles around it, “Tell me again, don’t stop telling me.”

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine!” You can feel yourself galloping toward your release, and the more you call him yours, the more a primal need for him awakens within you. It makes the pleasure that much more intense and you feel yourself burning white hot from it. The flames within you build as you continue to cry out that he is yours until it is too much and the fire consumes you.

Din watches as you reach your peak. He relishes in seeing how beautiful you look in that moment and in hearing how you sound as you’re absolutely overcome by him. His strong arms wrap around you to hold you up as you slow your movements and become more relaxed. He takes advantage of your momentary pliant state to roll you over, so he can be on top now. He did enjoy having you ride him, but he needs to be able to really thrust into you now, the way he’s been thinking about all day. Din pulls your legs up to his shoulders before he enters you again, this new position allowing him to penetrate you deeper than before.

“Ah, Din! Yes, oh Maker, yes!” you shout out your approval competing with the wet, lewd sounds filling the air as he pistons into you. Your cunt is so tight around him, he almost feels like you’re pushing him out of you each time you clamp down hard around him. Din knows he won’t last long like this, but with the way you’re thrashing around underneath him now, he doesn’t think you’ll care.

“You f-fought so hard for me t- today,” Din tells you between thrusts, “So- so p-proud of you, m- my cyar’ika.”

You mewl when he says that and seem to clench around him even tighter. It makes him want to say it again,

“My cyar’ika, mine,” he repeats and it feels as though you become even wetter for him. It makes him increase his speed and now his hips are pounding against yours. He’s going much harder than he dared the first time you were together. It’s like something has come unleashed in him, a deep desire to show you how much you are his, how much he wants to be with you, needs to be with you. He watches as you arch your back and writhe up to meet his punishing thrusts, your head is thrown back as you let out a near constant string of moans and Din thinks he’s never seen a more gorgeous sight in his life. He feels himself get impossibly harder and he knows that he’s close to his climax, but he want you to get there again first.

“My cyar’ika… fuck, want you… want you to come again… t-touch yourself,” Din tells you and you immediately reach down to play with your clit. Your fingers move rapidly in tempo with his hips and you start to shudder.

“Ahh, DIN! Yes! DIN!” He loves the way you cry out his name when you come and as soon as you start to squeeze around him, he lets himself go, pumping his seed deep within you as he follows you into the ecstasy of release.

Din slowly pulls out of you and lowers your legs before collapsing next to you. He lies there for just a moment before rolling towards the nightstand and pulling out the sleep mask. When he comes back closer to you again, he reaches up to cradle your face with one of his hands and looks into your eyes.

“My love, even though we haven’t been together long, I want you to know there is no one that could ever take me away from you. I’m so proud of how well you did in the competition, but you have to know that I would never have gone with that woman. I mean it when I say I’m only yours. And you should know that I won’t let anyone take you from me either,” Din tells you, his words heartfelt. You feel tears prick at your eyes as your emotions flood your chest.

“I mean it too, Din, I am yours, and you have to know I’ll never stop fighting for you, for us, when I need to,” you reply and place your hand over his.

“Can I cover your eyes? If I don’t kiss you soon, I’m going to burst,” he says.

“Yes, please, I need to kiss you too, my darling Din.”

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In another part of the state residence, Mistress Sigrid sits in her office and stares at a flickering holo. The image must be at least 7 or 8 years old, but there’s no doubt in her mind now that it must be you. After seeing you for a few days in a row, she knows that even though it’s an old holo, you are the same woman, and although you might be passing yourself off as a princess now, your appearance hasn’t changed that much. Plus, after rigging the intelligence challenge to include that Imperial code, she knows for certain that you must be the woman that Commander Kerrick Hoven is seeking and for whom he is willing to hand over a fortune in credits. She punches a code into her comm device.

The image of a blond man with sharp eyes appears and speaks, “Mistress Sigrid, I hope this is confirmation of good news.”

“Yes, Commander Hoven, I am certain it is her.” Sigrid replies.

“She was able to break the code easily?” he asks.

Sigrid chuckles, “She took only 5 minutes to do it. That along with the holo you sent confirms that it must be her.”

“Only 5 minutes,” Kerrick repeats fondly, “Still my brilliant little doll. You said she’s pretending to be a princess and is cavorting with a Mandalorian? She always was one for lost causes.”

“Yes, well, he shouldn’t be any problem for my warriors. When will you be here to collect her and transfer the funds to my account?” Sigrid asks.

“We shall see you in five hours.” Kerrick ends the call and his image flickers out.

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It hasn’t been very long since you drifted off to sleep when you are jolted away by tiny claws grabbing at your face and a scared cry. You can feel that Din is at your back, his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried into your hair, so you know it is safe to lift the sleep mask. When you do, you are met with the child’s highly distressed face.

“Buddy? What’s the matter? How did you get in here?” You have no idea what’s going on.

The child reaches his hands out to you and places them on either side of your face and suddenly your mind is filled with images. You see the interior of what looks to be an Imperial ship filled with storm troopers and other officers, then suddenly you are on the bridge of the cruiser looking at Kerrick in a commander’s uniform. He looks older than you remember and you can see that he is staring at a holo of you. You can’t tell what he’s saying but you can feel the threat that he poses and you are seized with the idea that you are in danger.

The child removes his hands and the images disappear. You heart is pounding and you have broken out in a cold sweat.

“Buddy, is that what’s happening? Is Kerrick after me?” you ask the child wildly even though you know he can’t respond. He just lets out more sad, whiny sounds and now you can hear Din starting to stir.

“What’s goin’ on? Middle of the night,” Din’s sleepy voice comes to you even as it’s still muffled by the pillows.

“Din, wake up, we have to leave, we have to leave right now.” Your voice is urgent but you keep it low so you won’t alert the rest of the household.

“What?” Din says confused.

“The child showed me Imperials coming after us, after me,” you tell him. You want to leap out of bed and start getting dressed but you know his helmet is still off and you won’t move until you know his creed is protected. “Please, put on your helmet.”

Din rolls away from you and you hear shuffling before he says, “Ok, turn around and tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but the child showed me a vision, it was Kerrick, only now he’s a commander and he was looking at a holo of me, and I could feel the danger, that we’re in danger.” Your words are coming out in a jumble but you do your best to explain.

“It could just be a bad dream, couldn’t it?” Din asks.

“How would the kid know about Kerrick? Please, Din, we have to leave, I know that we need to leave.”

“You’re right, cyar’ika, there’s no way the kid could know about your ex-lover, and if you feel that strongly we’ll go right now. It’s ok, don’t panic. I’ll protect you.”

You’re thankful that you have almost everything already packed and you hurry to pull on clothes. You collect the last few things you have strewn about the room before the three of you slink out into the corridor. Thankfully, no one is around and as you stealthily make your way back to the Razor Crest, you manage to avoid seeing anyone. It isn’t until Din takes off and you breach the atmosphere that you feel like you can breathe again. Din is working on putting in coordinates, when a pinging comes in on the long-range scanner.

“There’s an Imperial light cruiser closing in on Angel One,” he states gruffly and he quickly makes the jump to hyperspace.

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

“What do you mean she isn’t here? You fucking promised me!” Kerrick’s angry voice rings down the corridor from Mistress Sigrid’s office.

“I don’t know what happened, when my staff went to deliver their breakfast, they weren’t there,” Sigrid explains, embarrassed, “Then we discovered their ship was gone…”

“Such incompetence, no wonder you were of no use to the Empire during the war,” Kerrick sneers at her. He slams his fist down on her desk, “Fucking waste of fuel to come here! Five years of searching and I thought this time I’d finally found her.”

“Sir, they were able to give us some security footage of her. We have her initial interview when she arrived here, and recordings of her competing in some type of contest here.” An ensign brings Kerrick a holopad.

Kerrick brings up the interview footage first, when he sees Din and the child he pauses the images, “This child, she said he was hers?”

“Her ward, she said the Mando rescued him,” Sigrid replies.

“I know this child,” Kerrick says thoughtfully, “Moff Gideon is searching for him, and this must be the troublemaker Mando he spoke about.”

Kerrick looks back at the holopad and stares at your image on the screen. He touches the pad softly as he murmurs, “Still so beautiful, my doll, don’t worry, I’ll find you and bring you back to where you belong. I’ll rid you of that vile Mando and then we’ll be together again, just like it should be. We should have been together today, my doll, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Suddenly, he pulls out his blaster and shoots Sigrid in the heart before whipping around and stalking out of the room. “Come Ensign, we must contact Moff Gideon and see if we can’t pick up the trail of this Mandalorian.”

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

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow @hotsauceonabiscuit @overtly-cuteashell

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. In case you’re wondering, yes, you did remember to grab the sleep masks before you fled ;-) Chapter 8

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

Text

Love L(eyes)

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Synopsis: He was a bit odd, quiet, mysterious and studious, but you liked him. Found him more agreeable than some of your other coworkers. Besides, you were never the one to judge, no matter how strange the rumors around him were. This is why you happily accepted his slightly childish, secret Santa-exchange Christmas gift. And being so incautious is what caused your own undoing

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Attempt at Black Comedy, Yandere themes, Stalking, Obsession, Mentions of Smut, Riding, Orgasms, Voyeurism, Blackmail, Y/N Stupidity, Unedited

Admin: @roses-ruby

Request:

“Looks like someone’s had one too many Hawaiian-flavored shots again.”

Your coworker remarks at the girl in the distance hogging the karaoke machine and tearing her lungs out to Wham’s Last Christmas. You huff humorously at her and at your other colleagues who became shitfaced to overly spiked punch as an excuse to get loose in their normally constrained work environment. Some other time you would have joined them, but this week had been especially exhausting for you.

The supervisor, after zealously creating the holiday season itself, had sprained her ankle 2 days ago – leaving you in charge. As if it wasn’t chaotic enough thanks to her dedication for winter festivities, it was now all in your hands and the both of you couldn’t have been more different. Whereas she was Mrs. Claus wrapped in jubilant, giddy and imaginative red wrapping, you were a nonchalant grey piece of paper. Which is exactly what you decided to do with everything she had planned out for the office’s Christmas party:

Caroling? Those who want to sing can go ahead.

Gingerbread house competition? Literally not happening.

Secret Santa? Just give the presents when you can.

It may have been uninteresting but as long as adults had their alcohol – you eye the elated faces of your coworkers – it wouldn’t matter.

“___?” You jump slightly, spinning around when you heard your name being spoken in a low, almost intimate timbre.

Namjoon stood a few inches away from you, holding what looked like a present in both hands. Your coworker, Jin, raises an eyebrow at him.

“…Mm…this is for you.”

“Oh!” You were starting to think you had been left out of the drawing hat, “Thank you so much, Joon!”

Gently grabbing it from his arms, you hold it out and give it a little shake.

“Can I open it?” You ask, trying to follow ‘gift etiquette.’ He stares at you for a moment with an unreadable expression and makes you wonder if you had said something wrong.

“I would prefer if you wait until you got home.”

“Oh-uh, alright. Thank you.”

With that, he turns to leave.

“…Happy holidays, Joon!”

He shifts his head to give you one last look, a small smile on his plump lips.

“Thank you. Happy holidays.”

When he’s out of hearing range, you hear Seokjin sigh loudly.

“I mean…he’s hot but isn’t he kind of weird? It’s such a waste.”

“He’s not weird…”

“Girl, listen to this- you know the office slut?” He kindly refers to Lisa, one of the female secretaries, “She was all over him last summer until she finally got herself into his room. Turns out he lives in a fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere! I don’t know exactly what she saw, but she’s been spooked out ever since and avoids him as much as possible. Like just last week, I was lurking around and thought I saw the both of them make eye contact while passing each other in the hallway and that poor girl! She looked as if she almost soiled herself.”

“Those are just rumors, Jin.” You roll your eyes at his exaggerated tone, “Maybe she got rejected? And as for Joon…I think he’s just a little shy.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is don’t be too shocked if you find a woman’s head in that box.”

You snort at his ridiculousness, placing Namjoon’s gift on your work desk. The drinks you had before the party start catching up to you and you excuse yourself from Jin to head to the restroom. Once you’re in the stall, you sigh, placing your palm against the wall of the stall and leaning towards it. Perhaps you were slightly more tipsy than you had originally imagined.

Just then you heard what sounded like two pairs of kitten heels walk into the foyer.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you hear them talk about whatever the fuck. Social gatherings really weren’t your thing and you wanted to go home since privacy was nonapparent in this office. When you just about became mentally prepared to empty your bladder and scramble out of the building, you heard your name being called, pulling your attention away from the matter at hand.

“___ scrapped the Gingerbread house idea, isn’t it crazy. The supervisor lets her get away with so much even though they are worlds apart.”

Ah yes, gossip. How easy it was to spread misinformation. What they glossed over was the part where the supervisor hated your guts, however, you just happen to be two grown, working women who were able to reach compromises for mutual benefit. The gingerbread project was scrapped because you managed to convince your jolly boss lady that it was an impossible occurrence to accurately judge without her gingerbread expertise. And it was nothing but the truth.

“Well, whatever, I didn’t want to participate in that dumb event anyway. But you know what really irks me? It’s when she thinks she’s so special and unique.”

Special? When have you ever-

“She honestly thinks she’s so different.” The girl continues, “Plastered on the wall each time we throw an office party- whispering and giggling with men. Did you see her with Namjoon and Jin today?”

“Isn’t Jin gay?”

“That’s besides the point.” She sounded exasperated, “What I’m saying is that her lack of interest in everything makes her uninteresting! She may think she’s above us when she pulls all these stunts but she’s so boring, it’s almost painful to watch.”

“Pfft, you’re a bitch.” You hear laughter and the clack of compact powder before their footsteps retreat from the foyer.

For a minute you just stand there, thinking about nothing. Sure, you didn’t expect everyone to like you, but you were on friendly terms with everyone in your office. Even as a number 2, you’ve never raised your voice or demanded anything unreasonable. The saddest part was that you knew exactly who those two girls were and had conversed with them on multiple occasions.

You were definitely sober now as you felt a small prick of annoyance stab at your heart.

A girl who tries her hardest to not be like ‘other girls.’ A boring girl. Is this truly what people thought of you?

It’s not too late when you get home – but it feels like you’ve been away for ages.

You groan as you remove your heels, tossing them somewhere near the entrance area as you trudge further into your studio apartment. With weary arms, you throw the gift onto the bed and fling yourself besides it, listening to the mattress creak for a second before silence surrounds you once more. Although you decided to sleep as soon as you got through your door, you knew you would just overthink and confuse yourself by remembering what those girls said.

It shouldn’t matter…it was just casual conversation…not like they wanted to kill you or something, you rationalize. Also, if you were someone who cared so much for what others said, then you couldn’t have continued bearing such a laidback personality for this long, could you? Still, something about the confidence they had in their malicious words bothered you.

“Ugh,” You grumble, sitting up and placing the gift on your lap to distract yourself from all the negativity. Trying to clear your head, you tear open the bright colored wrapping as swiftly as you could. A smile crosses your face when you think about cold, silent Namjoon carefully handling vibrant Christmas paper over this box. Didn’t seem like him.

He always had a peculiar reputation around the office, but he was never anything but duly courteous towards you. Though you never thought much of anyone from your workplace, you did think well of him and his kindness. They denied it like crazy, but everyone had a crush on the smart and mysterious Namjoon, even Jin. You tear off the tape connecting the flaps together and carefully pull out whatever was inside. And that’s when you come face to face with a…stuffed teddy bear.

Really, just a regular brown bear with soft, fuzzy fabric – nothing fancy. Now you were even more confused. Did you ever give him the vibe of being a stuffed-animal lover? Actually, aren’t there some guys who give this kind of stuff to girls, like on Valentines? Joon probably didn’t know what to get you and went with something generic, you deduce.

You stare into its eyes. Plastic black orbs lifelessly leer back at you. When you began to feel oddly uneasy, Jin’s story suddenly flashed through your mind. There wasn’t a head in the box like he said, but it didn’t mean this bear couldn’t be an ominous gift.

What if…it had a small camera stuffed inside the layers of cotton like in those horror movies?

As soon as you conjure the question, you shake your head, cringing at your own thoughts. Just because some people found him disagreeable didn’t mean he was an actual creep who would do that. You, of all people, knew how quickly false notions spread throughout that office. If they were wrong about you, then they were definitely wrong when regarding the quiet Namjoon. He was a simple, introverted man your insufferable coworkers picked on and this was just an innocent teddy and nothing more. Exhaling through your nose, you were about to throw it back in the box and forget about it when a memory abruptly froze you.

“-she’s so boring, it’s almost painful to watch.”

Ok…as a rational individual, you know there’s no camera in this toy, you know that. But if there was a camera – it would mean Joon wants you in some fashion. Would you want to ~secretly~ watch a person you didn’t have a crush on? Exactly. If there was a camera, it would also mean… that when those bitches from the restroom see you, someone plain and inconsiderable in their eyes, be the object of ‘office hottie’ Kim Namjoon’s desire…

Wouldn’t they eat their own words?

The thought instantly sends endorphins throughout your brain. How satisfying. Little old, boring you being stalked by the sexiest, most capable man in the office.

“Hmph.” You smirk at the bear before looking around your room. There was a shelf on the wall facing your bed, stacked with some novels you read back in college. Pushing yourself off the mattress, you walk up to the shelf and lightly thrust away some of the books before placing the teddy bear on an empty spot.

This was silly, you think, gazing at the bear in amusement. Although you were certain there was no camera, the mere thought about spiting those women made you ignore all the red flags which were present in your head since you grew up as a woman in a male-dominated reality. Honestly, you were too caught up in your silly revenge dream to even care.

This was silly, but…strangely fun.

Since then you did everything which requires adequate privacy in front of the bear.

Sleeping, getting dressed for work, masturbating, changing underwear and even when you just had to get out of tight jeans and into sweats – you did it all in the once place you knew you had the potential of being ‘watched.’ For some reason, you couldn’t take these actions seriously. Everything was just a game to you and you were actually starting to have fun with the conception of someone observing you round the clock. You started to feel ridiculous sometimes, especially when you tried to act sexy each time you stood in front of your bed.

This was definitely something you had no idea you’d be so into. It was as if you were really beginning to believe there was a camera in the fucking bear. Well if there is – you hope Namjoon likes black underwear as much as you do.

“Nnh- ahh-” You moan as you slam down on your boyfriend’s stomach. He grunts in pleasure, tightening his hold on your flexing hips as you arched your spine out further. With your head thrown back, you slightly open an eyelid to peek over at the “spycam” teddy bear on the wall shelf.

A camera’s lens should be wide enough to catch this angle, right?

“___,” You look back at your boyfriend when he groans your name, suddenly remembering he was under you, “You’re so into it today.”

“Um, y-yeah…”

What else could you say? Tell him the truth about how you’re some pervert who’s currently getting off on the idea that there might be some creepy hot dude watching you bare-naked, fucking another man right this minute? ‘Yeah’ was the only logical choice of words you could invoke. Your boyfriend was a nice guy – someone you met on a dating app. You weren’t exactly looking for anything long-term, but you did want to get off without the hassles and dangers of a one-night stand. It’s been going on for two months now and although you don’t think ‘he’s the one’ or anything, he was calming to be around.

“Oh-oh cumming!”

You stare as his mouth becomes unhinged and his eyebrows knot in frustration. As you said, he’s a nice guy but you wish he wouldn’t look so strange each time he reached his high. If someone was watching you both, this kind of thing is embarrassing.

Wait, what? You stop moving on his dick as soon as the thought crosses your mind. Why are you even thinking about something like that? After a few seconds, the pressure on his chest releases and you mindlessly move off of him, joining him on the mattress. He glances at you in confusion as you stare at the ceiling.

“But you didn’t cum.”

“It’s fine, I’m not really in the mood.”

He sits up, head still turned towards you as he removes his condom, “Uhhhh…You sure?”

Instead of looking at him, you turn your head in the direction of the wall where the bear was placed. Dark orbs gazed back at you.

“Yeah.”

It was just a game to you, but it was starting to get strange.

You stretch your dormant muscles as you sit up in your chair.

It was your first day back from the three-day holiday break and you were already in a state of mental detriment. Existing in the same room as people who probably hated you was awkward. Not being able to accurately work through your sudden Christmas impulse of voyeurism also weighed you down. You passed out last night, but the first thing you would do once you got home is throw that stuffed bear away. The game had gone long enough, three days to be exact, and it wasn’t fun anymore. Not when you were involving others.

A part of you felt bad for Namjoon, but you’re sure he wouldn’t actually care.

His obsession with you was just your own delusion after all.

With a groan you get up, gathering the coffee mug from your desk. Maybe some caffeine would help you get it together. You slog into the breakroom, walking up to the freshly brewed coffee pot and pouring a large dose into your cup.

As you’re about to take your first sip, you hear the breakroom door creak open. You’re surprised to see Lisa, but she seems even more surprised – astonished even – when she meets your eyes. For a moment she just stands there by the door, not moving her hand off the handle as she leers at you as if you were a ghoul.

Any other time you would have been confused and creeped out, but right now you could only mentally sigh. Did she perhaps think badly of you as well? It would explain why she always avoided you.

“You should…stay away from Kim Namjoon.”

What?

“Uh…what?”

“I…you should stay away from him. He’s…to you he….”

You squint as the girl stares at the floor, struggling to form words. Why was she suddenly talking about Namjoon and you in the same sentence? In that moment, a look of assurance built up on her face and she looked back up at you, parting her mouth.

But then you see her eyes widen in horror and her shoulders stiffen as she takes a step back.

“Lisa?”

“I- uh- I have to go-” She says, sprinting out of the room before she even finishes her sentence. What the hell was that?

“Good morning, ___.”

Fuck, you recognized that low timbre. You spin around, almost spilling the hot brown liquid as you do, to meet with the one face you were dreading all day. Namjoon stood by you, holding onto his own mug and smiling at you quietly. After every stupid thing you’ve just done in the past couple of days, you really didn’t want to meet him. But you couldn’t abruptly run away either.

“H-hi…Joon…G-good morning.” You mutter, side stepping so he has better access to the coffee pot.

“Cold out, isn’t it.” He makes conversation and you hum along, taking a sip of caffeine as you dwell on how to run back to your desk without seeming too crazy. Namjoon continues to talk about the weather while your anxiety grows. Why were you suddenly so nervous? Were you maybe still delusional; convincing yourself about how he is madly in love with you?

He stops talking for a moment then, and looks over at you who is not present in reality at all. You don’t notice his dark gaze rake over your body nor his grin at your worry.

“You know,” He mutters, almost inaudible, “I do love black underwear as much as you.”

“Yeah.” You sigh in fake amusement, not really processing what he just said. Until you do.

It takes you a minute or two of staring at your coffee to finally register his words into your brain. You slowly look up at him, no traces of amusement or even the previous pointless uneasiness apparent on your current expression.

“What?”

“I said,” He turns his whole body towards you, “I do love black underwear on you.”

“I…” You take a step back, suddenly feeling very small next the man glaring at you, “I’m sorry?”

He raises his hand and fear instantly paralyzes you. When he touches the hair on your head with his fingers, you wanted nothing more than to shove him off and run away. Instead you were caught – irreversibly immobilized by the way he captured you in his gaze.

“Don’t look so surprised, didn’t you want me to see?”

A million and one curses just flash through your mind. This wasn’t real, this was not happening. He was not saying all this. You were probably lying dead next to your boyfriend and still dreaming. That had to be it, because there was no way. No way Namjoon was saying what he is currently in the middle of saying. It was a game; it was just a game.

“Honestly, I thought you would have thrown away such a silly thing as soon as you found it. Did you know it costed me a total of $30? I can’t believe such a cheap investment worked.”

Your breath hitches as you listen to him speak. Mom always called you a fucking idiot, but wow you were a fucking idiot. You were warned, you heard the rumors about him and you should have known. There was a difference between the gossip of drunk girls in the spur of the moment and the account of a very sober and concerned homosexual friend. Still, not wanting to face the present moment, you continue to deny it in your head.

“Nn- uh-” You move back, getting ready to make a run for it. Wishing Jin’s loud ass would somehow interrupt you both.

“I would stay still if I were you.” Namjoon smiles with a warning tone, making you halt, “You see I happen to have a lot of…information. Information which can end up in places it’s not supposed to. I’m sure both of us don’t want that.”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes. You knew exactly what he meant. He recorded you, he has footage of everything you did and he was threatening you. Every time you got undressed, slept, pleasured yourself and – fuck – you and your boyfriend. He’s seen everything. If those recordings end up online, you’d be finished. Forget about your boring girl reputation, if anyone saw those recordings, you wouldn’t even maintain a reputation to defend. And haven’t some women gotten fired over something similar?

“W-why?” You sob to him, not wanting to lose everything.

“Sshh, it’s okay.” He takes you in his arms, hugging you in a soft but firm manner. What else could you do but let him touch whatever he wanted. Although you couldn’t lie and say you were 100% certain the bear didn’t have a camera, you still passed it off as a joke. You messed up, bad. And around you stood the consequence.

“Aren’t holidays great?” He mumbles into your hair in a low, intimate timbre.

____

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Have a wonderful day -- 🍑

#yandere society #yandere bts #bts #yandere namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #bts x reader #bts christmas #bts fanfic

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ahundredtimesover · 4 years ago

Text

Like a Thief in the Night (FNTO 3)

What were you both trying to prove? That two people can remain just friends?

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that!

Warnings: foul language, these characters talk alot bc I talk alot, eventual smut

Word count: 4,800

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the café, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: JK gets some sense knocked into him thanks to Seokjin and Jimin bc I am a jinminkook stan. Italicized parts refer to past events. Listen to Home by 1D to prep you for part 4!

Jungkook covers his face with his hands, elbows leaning on the table, right leg shaking constantly. He’s been listening to the track over and over again; the hook sounded good yesterday but why does it seem lacking today?

“Fuck, I’m not gonna get this done in time,” he curses to himself. It has been a few days since he arrived in L.A. and had met with the producer he reached out to just as he planned.

He’s been staying holed up in his hotel room though, his daily gym visits being the only other thing, aside from the concerts, that he looks forward to, given the old couple and father-and-son duos he’s been seeing there everyday. The guys and the rest of the team won’t arrive until a few days later, and he hasn’t had any motivation to go around the city.

He plays the track one more time. Maybe this time he’ll figure out what’s missing; is it in the melody? The lyrics? But unsurprisingly, he doesn’t. It sounds just like it did a minute ago, yesterday, 2 days ago.

You won’t get any more productive being cooped up in here, he’d told you that Saturday when he dragged you out of your apartment for a little excursion.

It’s been over a week since then. He’d told you the words you always tell him when he’s groaning in frustration to you over the phone because of a certain pitch he can’t get right, or over words that don’t seem to capture what he wants to say.

He closes his eyes, head thrown over the desk chair and he lets out another grunt. Artists need to go out for inspiration and you don’t seem like you’re getting it here.

He closes his laptop, wears a cap over his head, and readies himself to go out. “Damn it, Y/N, you win. You always do,” he says to himself, and walks out the door.

It’s quite windy for a summer day in August in L.A., but the sun is still high up enough, slightly blinding Jungkook. The skies are clear, and he thinks it’s a good enough day as any to finally take a trip to the Griffith Observatory.

He didn’t do much, just stared out at the city below him and enjoyed the fresh air he’d finally allowed himself to breathe. He could see the clouds so clearly from here, all soft and puffy.

I’d eat those, you’d said not long ago when you were having brunch on your terrace, the warm summer air of Seoul hitting your faces. Of course, you’d eat anything, he’d answered back, earning a smack from you. That makes both of us, you’d said.

He lets out a low groan. You again. “It’s just clouds, for fuck’s sake,” he says to himself. Somehow this seemed to signal to him that it was time to go.

A hotdog sandwich and soda later, Jungkook finds himself in Hancock Park, the sun slowly dipping down the horizon, making it a good time to just lay on the sprawling greens by the perfectly lined palm trees.

With hands behind his head, he thinks that it's been a good day. Why you’d said that L.A. isn’t your cup of tea, he never found out. The city seems so dynamic, interesting; it has a little something for everyone, especially the food. He should ask you some time.

Jungkook pauses his thoughts. Ask you? Why should he? He basically shunned you away, ghosted you for a week and convinced the company to allow him to leave early so he could meet with the producer he could very easily meet in between shows, just so he could get away from you as quickly as possible.

The confused, pleading, and then defeated look on your face bore into his mind, unwillingly etched there along with the happier images of you - eating your favorite red bean ice cream, laughing so hard that no sound comes out of your mouth, your scrunched up face when drinking sodas, furrowed eyebrows when working, and finally, your sleeping figure bunched up underneath a thick fleece blanket, soft snores escaping you.

That last one will always be his favorite, had been since that first time you’d asked him to sleep next to you.

He woke up earlier than you that Sunday, the day after your little trip, body already used to their early morning wake up calls. You were both under the covers, with you taking up most of the blanket, as always. He softly laughed at this when he realized that half of his body was exposed, but this gave him a reason to scoot closer to you and feel your warmth, so he wasn’t complaining.

You looked so peaceful, so soft, even with slightly furrowed brows as you were engulfed in your dream. A loose strand of hair fell on your face, which he’d tucked gently behind your ear. A smile befell him, thinking of the way his heart was currently beating slow and fast at the same time. How was that even possible?

But he didn’t mind it, didn’t even think to find an answer. He’d already given up on finding reasons for what you’d been doing to him, what you’d been making him feel.

He decided right then and there that he will no longer run from what he’s feeling for you, that he will no longer play this up as something that just happened.

He’s a firm believer of destiny anyway, and yesterday, this moment right now, he feels like he’d dreamt it all before. He’s meant to be here with you, just as he was meant to be at your aunt’s cafe that September day last year to run into you, or that night out last New Year's when Chaewon had lost her car key and was too preoccupied to take care of you so he did, leading to that fateful morning of you in your underwear almost stabbing him - you both did agree that experience solidified your friendship, after all.

Every other moment after that with you felt real, and more than anything, it felt right. He fell asleep again not long after, your steady breathing lulling him to sleep. His last thought was of the next time he’d wake up next to you like this again, and his heart softens at the thought.

He shakes his head, anger and frustration building up again, not at you but at himself. He was deliberate in his avoidance of you that whole week before he left.

He’d missed you when you were busy and he somehow felt empty. He crashed your Saturday and took you on a little trip - he remembers how fast his heart would beat whenever you’d lean on him, butterflies in his stomach suddenly having grown in size.

After you’d thanked him for being such a great friend - he winces at the word - he felt his heart shatter slowly, and then all at once.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary because you thank him constantly. He thinks it’s because you feel he could be doing something else other than spend time with you because time for him is a luxury; wealthy as he is, it’s something he can not afford. He never told you though that spending time with you is one of the things he looks forward to, sort of an escape but also a taste of normalcy he’s barely afforded.

But after a while, your expression of gratitude became more specific - it wasn’t just time you were thanking him for, it was his attention, his care, his thoughtfulness… his friendship.

Fate was playing a game with him, he thinks, that at the moment he’d decided what he wanted from you and what he could give you - his time, his world, his love at some point - you’d decided to define him, as your friend. How cruel, he whispers to himself.

He tries to think as you do. You’d probably call him silly for his musings because you never believed in fate or destiny, always thought that things happen as they do, because they do - no grand plan, no specific reason, just a reason, and that was enough for you.

He goes home from his sightseeing and allows himself to think about you again that night, and the night after. He thinks about your plump lips, soft against his chapped ones. He thinks about how it felt with you close to him, your arms wrapped around his; fingertips just slightly brushing. He’s glad you’d never lay your head on his chest when you sleep, at least he doesn’t know what that feels like - what you don’t know can’t hurt you, after all.

He let the sound of your laughter and your out of tune singing sing him to sleep, over and over playing in his head. He tortures himself like this. It’s all he could do to get back at himself on your behalf, he thinks. You hurt him without knowing, and he hurt you right back.

“Mind sharing what’s interesting about that text message, Jungkook?” Yoongi calls out from across the table.

The guys are finally in the U.S., the morning of rehearsal having just wrapped up and everyone is backstage for a lunch break.

Hoseok shoots Yoongi a look, as if to tell him to talk about it only when Jungkook brings it up first. The older man only shrugs.

Jungkook picks this up, though; he picks up everything. He knows his hyungs as much as they know him. The questions about the meeting with the producer, how the mixtape is going, any sights he’d seen, new food he’d tried. They’re trying, he figures.

He could sense the glances everyone is giving each other but him, the topic-change when the conversation is heading to the topic of you, the clearing of throats, the awkward silences.

“Y/N texted,” Jungkook says after one of those awkward silences. He stares at the screen, as he’s been doing since last night when, just as he was about to finally doze off at 3AM, his phone lights up. You probably thought he was already asleep, not knowing the agony he was putting himself through.

Everyone falls silent but looks at him softly. Seokjin turns to Yoongi, as if telling him to say something and finish what he started, but Namjoin gets to it first.

“You can talk about it, or not. Depends on what you think will help you be ready for the next 2 nights of shows,” the leader says. “Just let us know.”

Jungkook sighs. “I hate myself enough just thinking about her. I don’t know what I’d be if I start talking,” he says.

“We’ve got time after tomorrow,” he resigns. Everyone nods in agreement. “I need to be at my best for these two nights,” Jungkook says, and proceeds to keep his phone in his pocket and heads out.

Y/N: There’s no proper way to say this but I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I thought I had it all figured out. I wanted too many things from you but couldn’t commit to anything. I was selfish and unfair. I hate myself for hurting you the way I did and you didn’t deserve any of that. I’m so sorry.

Jungkook reads the text over and over again, as if doing so will clarify things for him. Wanted too many things? Couldn’t commit to anything? What did you mean? He called you selfish and unfair that day when you showed up at his place, and he hates himself for it, he hopes more than you hate yourself for hurting him.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, I told her about you leaving early,” Jimin starts. “I probably should’ve picked up that something was wrong when you seemed off that whole day after you got back from her place and should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, hyung,” he responds. “If I hadn’t been an idiot and ghosted her for a week, we could’ve settled it properly instead of dragging you guys into this,” Jungkook says, looking up from his phone.

He figures you’d eventually reach out to one of the guys about him. Seokjin had likewise reached out to you the other day, asking what was going on, that much he’s said.

“She also didn’t say much when I asked,” Seokjin says from across the table, beer bottle in hand.

The guys are in a new city and have the next day just for rehearsals. He and Jimin had knocked on Jungkook’s hotel room, in hopes that the younger would be willing to talk.

“But she did sound pretty out of it,” the elder continues. “What happened, Kook? Everything seemed to be going so well with you two. Unless it’s what we think it is.”

“What do you mean?” Jungkook shoots both of them a confused look.

Jimin sighs. “Who fell first?” He questions. Jungkook’s eyes go wide, but then again, that’s what always happens right? He’s been in denial long enough that you and he were going to go down that route, but his hyungs weren’t.

Jungkook shuts his eyes before taking a deep breath.

“I did, at that moment,” he says, referring to that Sunday morning. “I mean, I think I’d felt something before then, but it felt faint, like something fleeting, something abstract, like a thought.” Jungkook drifts a bit, eyes glowing to the memory of you under the blankets.

“But I woke up that morning next to her and I don’t know, for the first time it felt different from all the other mornings. It felt tangible, like something I could hold onto and touch and feel and savor, not just an abstract idea of a person or a feeling,” he looks at his hyungs, eyes shining before they turn downcast. “But she thanked me for being a great friend.”

“Ouch,” Seokjin quips. “No wonder you’ve been moping.”

“I’ve been doing worse,” Jungkook responds. “I’ve been torturing myself, playing that morning, and that day at my house before I left, over and over again.”

“Why are you punishing yourself?” Jimin asks.

“Because I lashed out on her. I called her selfish and unfair. I told her I wanted to get away from her, that she’s the problem.”

At this, the two older men look at him, shock painted on their faces at the reveal. This doesn’t sound like their sweet little Kookie, expressing such anger that way.

“I didn’t talk to her for days and she stood there looking worried and sad and I lashed out. I essentially blamed her for the feelings I couldn’t control. She looked at me like I was the one breaking her heart.”

“Maybe you were, too. Breaking her heart, I mean.” Seokjin quips. At this, Jungkook sighs. “Maybe not in the way you think but… did you even hear her out?”

“No…” Jungkook responds. He didn’t give you a chance. You stood there, demanding an explanation, and he blew you off.

“Well, I doubt she’d say much. She didn’t know how you were feeling before then, did you really expect anything more? What happened to talking it out? You two always did that,” Jimin asks.

“Yeah but not about this, not about feelings.”

“What kind of people flirt, kiss, sleep next to each other, and not talk about feelings?” Jimin continues.

“Idiots, cowards, naive people…” Seokjin answers, looking upset. The other two men could’ve easily missed the bitter tone of his voice.

“Yoongi hyung is that you?” Jungkook asks, a laugh almost escaping his lips.

“He’s rubbing off on me but the point is, that’s what you both are. What were you both trying to prove? That two people can remain just friends? She hadn’t let anyone in since her breakup, and you…” Seokjin gesticulates, trying to find the right words for Jungkook. “You are you, Jungkook. You don’t willingly make time just for anyone because you, we, don’t have enough of it. But you always, always make time for her. Both of you kept doing what you were doing, whatever it was, and did you really think staying in the gray area was sustainable? Look what happened!” Seokjin is out of breath, clearly this means a lot to him too.

“I thought you’d learned enough from me,” he emphasizes the last word, pointing to himself.

Jungkook and Jimin both soften at the elder, almost forgetting that he knows a thing or two about staying in the gray area, too afraid of crossing invisible lines, too naive to think that good things stay.

“I teased along with everyone else because you two were enjoying yourselves, seemingly mature enough to roll with the punches and laugh along without it being awkward, and I’m not gonna lie, you guys were pretty cute too, but so many times I wanted to smack your head to knock some sense into you,” he continues.

“You can never be too complacent about these things, Jungkook. You can never just resign into thinking that the person who makes you feel this happy, this right, can be kept at a distance and just stay there.”

Jungkook feels it’s cathartic to Seokjin as much as it is for him. He’s right. Both of you should’ve talked about it at some point, perhaps after that first and second kiss, perhaps when it became routine to do that whenever he slept over, perhaps when it started to feel so right having your lips onto his. You were both being naive, thinking that things would remain as good as it was as time went on.

He should’ve said something earlier, or perhaps talked to you right after that day instead of avoiding you. But more importantly, he shouldn’t have lashed out on you the way he did. His anger was misplaced. Perhaps he was angry at himself for letting it get as far as it did, for letting it affect him as much as it did.

He let you sneak in his heart just like that, like a thief in the night you crawled in and took from him, and he let you, he always let you. And he never complained because he wanted it too. He wanted you, in whatever way he could have you, but he let his own cowardice get the best of him that day at his house. He lashed out because he was scared, more than anything, that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Seokjin says after a long silence has engulfed the three men, everyone finding a spot in the room to focus on, letting the words sink in.

“We could all tell how happy she makes you and how soft you are for her. I mean, you let her give you shit for thinking that Ironman is the best Avenger and you never complain when she wears your clothes,” he continues, a smile forming on his lips.

Seokjin, like the rest of the guys, feel very protective of the youngest. They feel they’ve done their part in raising him and want nothing more than for him to be happy, seeing the amount of pressure he puts on himself.

“You don’t find that person just anywhere, Jungkook, especially not with the kind of life we live. I would’ve hoped you understood that and made you sure you wouldn’t lose her,” he continues.

“Yah, don’t get ahead of yourself, hyung. He hasn’t lost her yet,” Jimin says, looking at Jungkook to confirm.

Jungkook buries his face on his hands. “I don’t know, I hope not. But I said hurtful things to her and I can’t take them back. And I’m thousands of miles away and I can’t just fix things from here.”

“Do you even know what you want now? After everything that’s happened?” Seokjin asks.

“I don’t know, depends on what she wants too, I guess,” Jungkook responds.

“Well, you didn’t even give her a chance to say anything so how would you know,” Jimin states the obvious.

Jungkook lets out a low growl. Of course he didn’t give you a chance to say anything because he left you hanging, all messages unopened, all calls unanswered. And then he left. He felt so brave walking on this undefined territory with you but chickened out the moment things got serious.

“Look, just… give both of yourselves time. You can’t do much from here anyway, and you’re both too out of it right now to know what to do next,” Seokjin advises. He knows better than anyone that giving yourself time is most important.

“But what if she decides she doesn’t want any of this anymore? That she doesn’t wanna talk to me or have anything to do with me when I get back?”

“Yah! Give yourselves more credit. I know it’s hard but you need to have faith in your friendship, at least,” Jimin reprimands the younger boy. “We’ve still got over a month into this leg of the tour and that’s enough time to figure yourself out.”

Jungkook comforts himself with this thought. But can he manage spending all this time away from you, knowing he left things on a bad note? He can’t fault himself enough for how he left things, and now he has to put faith in your shared friendship that things were going to be okay.

If you’re meant to be together, it’ll happen; that should be enough, right? He’ll go home soon, and he’ll see you at some point, that’s if you still want to see him. He just has less than 2 months to figure out what he wants, and moreso, what he could give.

It’s been 6 weeks since that day at Jungkook’s house when he implied he had feelings for you.

You know what else is nice? Calling me to come over on Friday nights when you didn't feel like being out, asking me to stay the night and having me sleep next to you, kissing me and saying you liked waking up next to me then telling me that ‘this feels nice and comfortable and fun’ and that I really am a great friend, he told you then. You were an idiot, that much you’ve figured out.

Other than busying you with a trip to the carnival, baseball nights, arcade Saturdays, and gallons of Baskin Robbins, your friends have done their part in helping you process your feelings and figure out exactly what you feel for the doe-eyed boy.

They helped you backtrack, as if your story was some sort of mystery that needed clues that would eventually point to what you were looking for - the moment it all changed, for you and maybe for him, too.

But you realized it wasn’t exactly a moment, it was a series of them - the first time he took you home when you were drunk, that night he came over when you were crying over your ex, when he sang to you over the phone because the thunder was scaring you, when you cried together after rewatching Avengers: Endgame for the nth time… when you first kissed and he tasted of beer and his strawberry chapstick, when you kissed the second time and he didn’t pull away.

You let yourself drown in those little kisses more than you care to admit. It was all you could give him and you felt it was all he could give in return. You both never went past that act; on your end it was because you knew that anything beyond that would lead to wanting more, something you knew he couldn’t give, something you told yourself not to expect.

He’d come over whenever he could when you asked, he’d stay over when it was okay to do so. You ask once and nothing more, nothing more than a peck on the lips, nothing more than a Friday evening or a Sunday morning, nothing more than a quick hug, nothing more than a “thank you.”

You knew all this, hence, why you conditioned yourself to think that what you both were was all that you could ever be. He told you once that relationships tend to get messy and he already has enough crazy to deal with. That stuck with you, and perhaps that’s when your mind made the decision to not look at him as anything more.

But you still kept pushing it, subconsciously you think, knowing there was still an invisible line you shouldn’t cross. You kept doing what you wanted, just waiting for him to say no, but he never did. He never does. He’s always quick to make it up to you when he turns you down.

This thought suddenly makes you angry. Why didn’t he just say no? That would’ve been better, you think. He could’ve just rejected you instead of coaxing you into this unfamiliar and undefined territory. Now you’re both stuck, unsure of what to do next. You carved this out though, you remind yourself.

Anything “more” with him was definitely not an option, so you created your own path towards something that isn’t “more,” just something short of it.

You look over the last communication you had with him. You sent him a message, a few days after he left when you’d had some sense knocked into you, apologizing. That’s all you could’ve given him then, an apology. Not an acceptable explanation, not a promise, not a solution or a way out; just an apology, in hopes that it would be enough.

You sent him a “Happy birthday, I hope you enjoy today!” greeting coupled with a photo of a cupcake with a candle you’d bought just for him on that first week of September. He replied but a “Thank you.” Nothing more.

Seokjin and Jimin reached out to you too, in the days following Jungkook’s departure. They’re letting him deal with it in whatever way works for him, they said. The priority is making sure he’s at his best for the shows, for the fans. You understood this, of course. The stage is where he’s at his happiest. You’re glad he’ll always have that.

The guys will be resting at least a week after they get back before preparing for the final 3 days of the tour in Seoul. You don’t have long before then.

The day after Jungkook left, you had that epiphany moment with Hyejin where she told you that perhaps you’d just done whatever you wanted because you wanted everything and nothing at the same time but couldn’t commit to either. You thought you had everything figured out without realizing that in fact, you didn’t. You had 2 months to figure your shit out, and you did.

It was that one afternoon when you absentmindedly picked up banana milk at the supermarket when you intended to just get chocolate milk at the dairy section. It baffled you when you opened your eco bag to see the yellow box, as if the universe was playing a trick on you. You stared at it like it had grown eyes or something, until you realized the other items in your refrigerator, your pantry, your counter that was all for him.

His favorite cereals on the top shelf, his Nutella and banana beside your peanut butter, his favorite biscuits in the cabinet, the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Even his favorite toothpaste is in your bathroom.

And you smiled. You smiled at how silly you seemed. It’s not just that you couldn’t get the thought of him off you, it’s that you didn’t want to. You’d willingly let him be a part of your life, of your everyday.

You miss him so much, more than you thought you ever could. All you want to do is talk to him even if you’re hurt and angry and upset. You just want him, even if things are confusing. You just want him even if you don’t know what he’s feeling after everything.

You want it to work, no matter what it takes. You won’t walk away from this if it doesn’t work out the way you normally do. You’ll stay and try until it does, hoping to all that is good that he feels the same way.

As the end of September rolls in, the feelings of fear, anxiety, and excitement start to engulf you. They’ll be back soon, and Jimin had said he’ll message once they arrive. You’d given each other time; the two months felt like two years. That should be enough.

You’re lounging at your terrace, Sunday night in full swing for those with interesting and put-together lives unlike you. And then your phone beeps, signaling a message.

JM: Hi, Y/N. We’re home!

part 2 drabble <<>> part 4

series masterlist

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fic #bts jungkook #idol jungkook

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hongjoongtrasher · 4 years ago

Text

Goodbye baby goodbye

Genre: Angst (because we all like to hurt ourself), smut, fluff

Pairing: office worker!seonghwa x female reader, ceo!hongjoong x female reader, established relationship, lovers to ennemies.

Other: little brother!jongho, best friend!yunho, colleague!yeosang, roommate!san, office worker!mingi, manager!wooyoung.

Warning: cheating, betrayal, manipulations, protected sex (be safe kiddos).

Notes: Purely for entertainment and this is the first time I’m writing about ATEEZ, please have some mercy on me xD. No idea about the words count. Triggering themes will be add along chapters.

Summary: It all began when your now 4 year-old boyfriend Seonghwa had an invitation to his entreprise’s party. Surprised to hear you could tag along, you met Kim Hongjoong, the CEO and close friend of Seonghwa. Rumored to be a playboy, the rich boss of your boyfriend is determined to add you to his conquests.

Masterlist

« My boss told me you were also invited » claimed your boyfriend while picking a piece of cake with his fork.

This made you drop yours as your eyes widened from the surprise. Park Seonghwa has been your boyfriend for four years now, and he was working at a powerful enterprise, headed by a young CEO. It was hard to say you knew this enigmatic CEO since you never met him, but Seonghwa was close to him, that’s all what you knew.

« Me ? » you asked, unsure about the matter.

Your boyfriend nodded, confirming his previous statement. Every year, KQ Enterprise was holding a party with their employees to congratulate them whom worked hard and contributed to make it a great place to work. You were definitely proud of your boyfriend’s hard work since he was respected and loved by his colleagues, which brought him to be a manager of a whole department there.

« Yeah. We can bring one person, so…I thought my girlfriend would have liked to tag along. » he chuckled lightly, taking your hand in his on the table. « Y/N, you’ve been by my side for a while, and you know better than anyone how much I worked hard there. That’s why I want you to come. » he explained, making you nod softly.

That’s how you were invited to the reception. Unlike your boyfriend, you weren’t working in a famous enterprise. You were still studying at university and also working part-time at a local restaurant, that’s why you couldn’t do much for him except listening to his complains when he had some, or just being a supportive girlfriend. You two met at your last year of high school. Seonghwa was quite popular back then, but you never really grew interested in him until he helped you one day at the library. From the top of your toes, unable to reach the damn book you wanted, a large hand reached it to slowly takes the book out. It was probably cliché, but probably because you were yourself, he had begun to slowly reach out for you, being first a friend and after a boyfriend.

« Are you sure though ? » you asked, lacking of confidence about it. « I’ve never attended such an event before- what if I do something wrong ? »

« Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Because you’re my girlfriend » he reassured you before taking your hand to his lips.

« If you say so… » you answered back with a sweet smile.

This day, you were enjoying a date at a coffee shop. You were glad Seonghwa’s taking time for you both, making sure to go out or just even spending time together. But this time would be different. It was a matter of work for him and you were just required to stay with him. But somehow, you were worried. Not worried about him, but about you. As you said, you feared that something would happen because of you.

Suddenly, your phone rang. You looked at it as the name « Lil’ bro » appeared on your screen. You mumbled a « sorry » and stood up while taking the call.

« Hey Jongho, what’s up ? » you exclaimed, going away not to bother anyone around here.

« Hey noona, are you in town ? » answered the other male.

Jongho was your little brother. Literally your blood brother. Somehow, he was the youngest from the family, but surely the manliest, wisest and sweetest boy you knew. He was doing his military service at the moment but took time to call you wherever he could which made you thankful toward the youngest.

« Yeah, I’m on a date with Seonghwa at the moment. But it’s alright. What’s up ? » you answered with a cheerful tone.

« Oh, sorry I didn’t know…but I’m going to be discharged soon you know ? »

« Of course, how can I forget it ? »

« As expected » he chuckled for a moment before pausing some seconds. « I…was wondering if you could help me ? Cause I’ve found a job right after, but I don’t want to bother mom and dad so, if I could …like live with you for a while… »

« Mhhh, well it’s not that I don’t want to, but I gotta ask San, since I’m not living alone. »

You weren’t living all by yourself. Living with your parents wasn’t convenient for your studies as they were living quite far from the university, so you searched for an apartment to rent but the prices were incredibly high. And then you found San, another student. He was also in need for a place to stay since he couldn’t rent a whole place for himself. At first, you weren’t sure about living with a boy, but your roommate reassured you by saying « Don’t worry, nothing will happen between us if it’s what scaring you. I like boys you see ? » Such an extravagant guy, but yet so loving and sweet. That’s how you began to live with San. And until now, every thing was alright.

« Sure, let me know about it okay ? »

« Yes sir ! I’m sure you’re killing it out there, but don’t overdo it alright ? »

« Well, I’m not the baddest dude here, but I may be out of the top ten ? » he laughed, a bit shy to say it himself.

« Ooooh, as expected from my little brother. »

« I will call mom and dad, so I gotta go. Love you noona. »

« Love you too. »

The « beep beep » at the other line indicated the call ended. And it’s with some relief that you came back at your boyfriend. Jongho and Seonghwa knew each other, and your little brother liked him. So you didn’t hesitate to share some news from the youngest.

« It was Jongho. »

« How is he doing ? » asked Seonghwa, with a genuine interest.

« Great ! Actually he’ll be soon discharged, and he asked me if he could temporary live with us as he found a job after his mandatory service. »

« Already ? Wow, he doesn’t waste any time. » said Seonghwa with an impressed tone.

« I know right ? But he’s always been this way, I’m glad he knows what he wants. »

You discussed a bit more about your brother and finished your cake and coffees. Hands in hands you headed outside, the sky becoming grey with menacing dark clouds. Rushing to the subway, you both got inside.

« So I will pick you up Friday night. For the party. » he began, going back to the event.

« Alright…Wait, is there any dress code ? » you asked suddenly panicking because your student ass was probably not the best in clothing category.

« Erm I’m not sure ? So far I never really paid attention to this since I’m always in suit. »

You sighed and prayed God to have mercy on you. You were practically sure of yourself: you hadn’t anything which would made you elegant in your wardrobe at the moment.

« Y/N, don’t panic. I will find a solution okay ? » he said while taking your shoulders to make you face him.

You looked into Seonghwa’s eyes and nodded, slightly defeated by this idea of letting your boyfriend help you for an outfit.

In front of your building, your boyfriend pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead and smiled at you.

« I’ll text you later. »

« Thanks for today Seonghwa. »

« My pleasure » he smiled more before leaning to finally kiss your lips, which made you answer to the kiss.

As you walked into your shared apartment, you could hear San’s laugh emanating from the living room.

« I’m home ! » you said carefully, taking your shoes off.

« Welcome back Y/N » San’s voice answered, discovering the pink haired boy playing his console with snacks around him.

« You haven’t moved since I left ? » you asked in an astonishment.

San paused his game and turned around to give you a sneaky smirk.

« I did, I went to the toilet, I went to the kitchen to- »

« That’s not what I meant » you paused him with an amused voice.

« Come on’ Y/N, I studied like a monster these days ! I had to play to relax. »

« Yeah yeah, be careful not to play too much »

« Yes mom…But anyway, how as your date with your charming prince ? »

You sat down on the couch with your roommate, watching him play while you talked about the famous party Seonghwa asked you to attend. As you were telling him about the thing, his eyes widened and he paused his game again.

« Wait, you’re talking about KQ Enterprise’s party ? »

« Yeah…How do you know ? » you arched a brow.

« My boyfriend works there too and he told me about it, but I refused to go. » he answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

« Wait a minute ! I thought your boyfriend was working in a bar ? »

« Y/N, it was the previous one. »

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling. You gave up about San’s love life as he was changing often.

« Okay, but since when have you been dating this guy huh ? And why you didn’t tell me ? You know Seonghwa’s working there as well »

« I forgot ! Anyway, he asked me to come too but nope, not my thing. »

« Please San, go with him ! I don’t want to go alone ! » you begged your friend.

« You won’t be alone, there’s charming prince with you »

« It’s different ! » you claimed « He’s working there ! I will feel like a stranger there, and gosh, imagine if I do something wrong ? Ugh »

« Alright alright, I will talk about it with Wooyoung » he sighed, defeated.

« I love you San ! » you laughed, feeling victorious. « And, the name’s Wooyoung ? »

« Yeah, he’s the manager of I don’t remember which team »

The world was so small you thought for a while before you thought of Jongho.

« By the way, my brother will soon be discharged and he asked me if he could live with us for a while before taking his own place ? »

« Your brother ? Jongho ? Ooh he’s going to be soon discharged already ? Of course he can, I don’t mind. »

« Nice, I’ll let him know »

You were really glad you were going along with San and so he was with your own acquaintances. You thanked him again and went to your room. Some days passed by, and Seonghwa texted you but never talked about the famous party which made you frustrated because you were literally searching for something elegant but not expensive, which was impossible. Until one day when you came back home after your classes.

« Y/N ! You received a package » said San while passing by to his room.

« Me ? But I haven’t ordered any thing ? » you mumbled, intrigued.

San shrugged and joined you to the living room where the so called package was here on the table.

It was quite big, nicely wrapped in a white paper and black silk ribbon.

« Open it » suggested San, curious.

« Hey, wait, don’t you think it’s weird ? Are you sure it was for me ? »

« Are you Y/F/N ? » asked San, ironically. « Cause that’s what the delivery man asked, so I said you lived here and he left after shoving me the package. »

After a moment of hesitation, you unwrapped the package to discover a black box. You opened it to discover a pink beige dress and honestly it looked so expensive that your poor salary of part timer couldn’t even pay a quarter of it. San’s eyes widened so as yours.

« Wait- Who is it from ?! » a bit panicking on the spot.

« I don’t know ! The guy hasn’t told me ! »

You picked up the dress to look at it closer, and gasped when you saw the brand inside.

« San- I think I’m going to faint…Yves Saint-Laurent. Can you see ?! »

« Y/N, I don’t wanna make you panic more, but look there is a card inside. »

He pointed a silky white enveloppe you took quickly to open it.

« Dear Y/N,

I heard you were worried about the dress code of the party. Here’s a present for you. In hope to see you soon.

CEO Kim Hongjoong. »

There was a big silence in this room, your roommate and yourself looking at each other in disbelief before San opened his mouth and closed it, probably too shocked to say something. And so you were. Why did your boyfriend’s boss sent you this dress ? And how did he know ?!

#ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez imagine #hongjoong scenario #seonghwa imagine #ateez fluff #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jung yunho #jung wooyoung #kang yeosang #song mingi #choi san #choi jongho #hongjoong smut #Hongjoong angst #seonghwa angst #seonghwaangst

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cayofdreams · 4 years ago

Text

Vengeance = Repentance

PART 1: VENGEANCE

Summary: Reader had bullied Todoroki throughout all his time in high school. Years later, after a reconnection during an after-work drinking session, she goes back to his place, naively unaware of the payback he has planned for her…

Words: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit, Smut (in part 2)

Warnings: bullying by reader in beginning, murderous thoughts by Todoroki, Dark!Todoroki, drugging

(no smut in the first part, just immense build-up)

Notes: I could not for the life of me think of an interesting Todo fic to write. Until...THIS baby popped into my mind. It was actually really challenging and fun to write what goes on in the mind of Dark!Todoroki. I hope I did it justice.

~~~

He hated you.

Sometimes the only reason he had for living was simply to see the day that you’d be six feet under a cold batch of dirt. You’d be all alone down there with no one to control. No one to manipulate. No one to blackmail or threaten.

You’d have no lackey to run around and get you sweet bread from the convenience store. No lookout to make sure any teachers came to catch the abominable acts you committed in the bathroom stall or behind the gymnasium. No rich father to make sure that whatever horrible deeds you committed that were reported were swept gracefully under a rug.

And most importantly, you wouldn’t have him. The target of all your psychological and physical abuse. The one person who constantly fulfilled your insatiably engorged sadistic ego.

“Heyyy~ Shou, can you come here for a sec?” You had called out to your bi-colored haired classmate from the threshold of the class’ door. The twitch in his shoulders in reaction to your voice made you chuckle. Todoroki slowly slid his chair back, making a scratching noise against the tiled floor, and got up. He walked up towards you with his eyes trailing the floor.

“Yes?”

“Ohh! So obedient today, aren’t we? Hehe- It was only a matter of time I suppose.” You smiled your disgustingly innocent smile at him. “I need you to check something for me. It’s important, okay?”

He stayed silent as he watched you move the hand that was behind your back out forward. You had a carton of milk in your hand, and it seemed to have already been open. He saw you put the carton to your nose and sniff harshly from where the opening was before shoving the carton into his chest. A bit of milk spilled out and dripped onto his uniform.

“This milk. It smells kinda funky. I want you to check it for me.”

“…If it smells funny then it’s probably-“

“Did I ask for your cheap opinion? Just do the favor, alright?” You frustratingly squeezed the carton in your hand which made even more milk spurt out and land on your hand as well as Todoroki’s uniform again. “Ugh! Shit! Look what you made me do! From being so obstinate.”

“Sorry…” He took the carton from your hand. It was practically half full now so he wondered why you even still cared so much. But he didn’t ask. He put the carton to his nose and sniffed to try and find a rotten smell to it. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Are you stupid? Not like that, idiot. You’ll never know if its bad if you check like that.” You quickly took the milk from him and raised it in the air. “You have to check like this~” You began to slowly pour the rest of the carton’s contents onto his head, completely soaking his silky hair and ruining his uniform even more. The milk drenched into his shirt and he could feel its cool wetness trickle his skin. “Ahaha! Weeell?? Is it bad or not, Shouutoo??”

There was a loud commotion of hoots and hollers from the other classmates as they watched your tormenting of Todoroki.

“Uwaah!! Milk boy got dunked on again!!”

“Gross! He’s gonna smell so bad later…”

“Dude! Go wash up! You’re gonna make the whole class smell like milk!”

“Krrgh..” Todoroki choked up in frustration, his hands balled into a fist. The fact he couldn’t just punch you right now could drive him to a point of enraged insanity.

The fact he had to let you get away with this over and over again just because of your father’s notorious connections with various government and business groups. He sometimes thought about just killing you anyway and dealing with the consequences. Prison would be more manageable than continuing to live in this same physical plane as you.

He thought about how he’d do it, too. If he would try to do it inconspicuously with poison, or conspicuously with his hands wrapped around your slender little throat. The former lead to more chances of him getting away with it. He could have the pleasure of your death along with his freedom. But the latter…the latter was just too enticing to pass up. Being able to hear your gargled whimpers attempting to beg for your life. Your legs that would try to kick and pry him off your weak body. Your face losing its color as your body is abruptly deprived of oxygen. And finally, his personal favorite, your bloodshot eyes that would be pleading for him to give you mercy before finally greying out.

Yes…the latter would have to do. Time in prison would be a beautiful cost to pay to see you perish under his fingers. The world would thank him later, for getting rid of their waste. Your death would serve as your repentance

But he was weak. Scared. He couldn’t find the conviction he needed to actually go through with it. It made him feel even worse. Maybe you were never wrong, and he was truly as spineless as you treated him.

But he’d get stronger. He had to. He needed to. He craved to.

-------------------------9 YEARS LATER-------------------------

“Good job on closing the deal, Todo!”

Todoroki had felt a harsh pat on his back before a heavy arm was slung over his shoulder by his spikey red haired coworker as he was grabbing his blazer off the chair.

“It was nothing, Kirishima.” He replied coolly but not without a small twinge of a smile.

“Ha! ‘It was nothing’ he says!” The energetic man turned his head around to face everyone else in the office. “Hey! Everyone! Pay attention to this guy right here! You might become the most successful businessman this country has to offer!”

The office chuckled and gave soft cheers for Todoroki, some of them poking fun at Kirishima’s exuberant display of comradery.

“Todo! Kiri! You guys are coming out for drinks, right!” Another one of Todoroki’s energetic co-workers, this time with bright yellow hair, briskly jogged up towards them. “I already invited the ladies!”

“Totally, dude! Where are we supposed to be going?”

“Heights Alliance! That bar has the best drinks and food a guy could ask for. Not to mention cute girls!

Todoroki softly brushed off the arm of Kirishima before putting his jacket on. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Aw! Come on dude!” This time, the yellow-haired co-worker placing his arm around Todoroki’s shoulder. “You alllways bail on us! Come with us this time! Drinks on Kiri!”

“Hey, Kaminari! Don’t decide that for yourself!” Kirishima retorted. “But yeah, man. You should come out. We miss you sometimes, dude.”

Todoroki hesitated as he contemplated his fellow workers’ requests. Honestly, he had never gone out to just...have fun. He would clog his mind with work which was probably why he was successful anyways. He didn’t even know why he was so disciplined when it came to his career. Not knowing what his goals even were. Focusing primarily on work, but for what? To just deny any moments of pleasure or belonging?

Maybe it was time for a change.

“…Alright.”

“Wooo!!! Todo is officially on board!”

The loudness of the cheers of his coworkers rang stingingly through his eardrums but he couldn’t suppress the smile that stemmed on his face.

As he had the feeling tonight would be an unforgettable night.

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

Todoroki sighed as he sipped the last of his drink and placed it softly on the counter in front of him. He sat alone as he thought about what he was even doing there. The entire evening basically constituting to watching his co-workers ramble on about various subjects that he could not get the meaning behind. After a while of heavy drinking, that he did not participate in, everyone either went bar-hopping or went home passed out in a taxi. He truly did not understand the purpose of such gatherings and he started to wonder how he’d even fit into society.

As he thought to himself, the sudden words from the bartender disrupted his thoughts.

“Oh hey, Y/N. Long time, no see.”

The abrupt sound of your name made him widen his eyes and his body unconsciously jolt in the barstool. Was it really the same Y/N? No, it couldn’t be. Surely there were a bountiful amount of people with names that were similar to yours. But he had to check for himself, so he looked up from his empty glass and-

“Haha…Shinsou. Looking as gorgeously sleepy as ever. How are you?”

The sounds of your conversation with the bartender drowned out with the rest of the bustled atmosphere as he glared upon you. Without a doubt, it was you. He could never forget that figure. That figure that towered over him menacingly even though he was taller than you. That figure that just watched from a distance as you sent your delinquent underlings to pummel him into the cold cement. That figure who would bow respectfully to teachers when they dismissed any reports of your lechery. And now that same figure was only a few feet away from him, sitting gracefully at the bar counter as you talked to the unknowing bartender.

His glare locked long enough onto your figure for you to finally meet his eyes. And before he could look away, you had called out to him.

“Eh..? To…Todoroki?” You had softly called out to him. Using his name in a way that he had never heard from you before. Using a voice that harshly contradicted the patronizing tone you barked commands at him with. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”. You were smiling at him. Smiling at him as if he were a longtime friend that you missed connections with due to one of you going abroad.

You had hopped out of the barstool and approached your old classmate, taking a new seat beside him. He looked over at the wall of drinks displayed in front him, avoiding your gazing. “Wow…you’re all grown up now, huh?” You looked over to the bartender raising your hand at him. “Shinsou~ A refill on whatever he had, okay? Make it two actually.” The bartender simply nodded at you before mixing up various alcohol and flavors behind the counter.

“I..I don’t want to drink.” Todoroki shivered at his own statement as he was reminded of the times you’d scream at him for not doing something you’d ask.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s on me, okay? Don’t worry about it.” You had inched your head more over the counter trying to get a better look at him. “Your hair…I always thought it was dyed. But I guess its real, huh.” You reached your hand out to run your fingertips through his silky bi-colored bangs. He twitched at your touch.

What exactly were you doing? Acting so innocent with him like this. Were you just going to pretend like the three-year long trauma you subjected him to was a fable? An illusion? Or perhaps you had minimized the damage you’d done in your mind in order to preserve your own sanity as you took over a new life.

“...Y/N. What are you doing?”

You quirked your eyebrows in confusion at his question. “What do you mean? I just…I just think your hair is really pretty is all.”

Were you faking it? Was this another one of your atrocious jokes? Perhaps within the next minute you’d start cackling at him, asking him how he could be stupid enough to believe he deserved such niceties from the likes of you.

Todoroki looked down and squeezed the empty glass on the counter. “Don’t you…don’t you remember? What you did to me?”

“Todoroki…” You lowered your eyebrows in sorrow. “I-I’m sorry for what I did to you back then. I was indeed…a cruel person. I know you probably won’t accept that…but I still want to tell you. You at least deserve my apology. As cheap as it is.”

He looked over to you, surprised at your apologetic tone. He gazed into your e/c eyes. The very e/c eyes that captured the hearts of everyone around you, yet seethed supremacy and calamity toward him. He had learned to distrust anyone with eyes that resembled yours. The eyes that were now looking at him with…

Remorse. Your eyes were burdening in remorse. As soon as Todoroki saw the guilt that dwelled in your eyes he knew that this wasn’t a joke. That you weren’t pretending to feel these things. The look in your eyes unquestionably conveyed the apology you had stated earlier.

And it was that same look that would ascend an unusual beast that lurked within the visceral regions of his body. An unfamiliar thirst that stayed submerged within him, never needing to be satisfied until now. It gurgled within the depths of his gut, practically wanting to vomit out of his esophagus.

A beast that went by the name of revenge. And it would be so easy to pursue it right now with the plague of repentance beating in your heart.

Todoroki placed one of his hands on yours and squeezed tightly. Your skin was so soft, so smooth. He could never take the time to feel how delicate your skin was when the only touch of yours he knew before was the stinging slaps you’d deliver on his face. But tonight, he’d be able to feel something more, and the touch of his hands on yours only made the beast inside of him grow more and more unruly.

“I forgive you, Y/N.” He tried to state it in the softest way possible, making sure the feigning of the line wouldn’t be discovered. However, he knew you believed him by the twinkle in your eye, signifying an immense weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“Todoroki…” A warm tear dropped from your cheek to his hand. “Thank you, Todoroki… thank you.” More tears would soon follow and drop onto his hand. He would’ve let go of you if he wasn’t so encapsulated by the feeling of your salty waters dropping onto his skin. As your tears cooled and dried up into his hand, he couldn’t have felt more enthused.

It was only then that Todoroki could take in the beauty that was your face. You looked so elegant like that, with pools of emotions trailing down your cheeks. Maybe if he’d seen this site of you in high school he’d had instantly fell in love. But such feelings didn’t reside in him anymore. They’d been evicted by the lurking beast of revenge, and that beast was craving more of this site from you.

“Two Vieux Carre cocktails” The bartender had placed the drinks on the counter in front of each of you before grabbing something under the counter. “…and a tissue”. He handed the soft fabric to you which made you giggle a bit.

“Thank you, Shinsou.”

He simply hummed a reply at you and returned to making drinks for other patrons that had walked in.

While you wiped away the allure that was your tears, Todoroki sat there, thinking of prolific strategies of how to get you under his grip. Should he just ask you to come home with him? Wouldn’t that be too straight forward? He didn’t know much about social interactions, but he knew asking a woman at a bar to come home with him had its underlying implications. And its not that he was undesired by women; he knew of the colleagues in his office that held romantic feelings for him. He just never followed through with any of them, never feeling anything close to the desires that were brought for him.

He also couldn’t help but feel subconscious about asking you to come home with him. You were the person that so incredibly ridiculed him for three years. You were still the same person who made him believe that no sane person would ever look twice at him. That he was too weak and monotonous to ever make someone feel happy.

Or were you? It seemed that whatever life change you went through caused you to redevelop your entire personality. Maybe you’d be like most the women he encountered in his life and become attracted to him? After-all, he also wasn’t the same person as he was in high school. He’d become stronger mentally and physically as well as much more confident about himself.

“Y/N, would you like to…finish drinking at my home?”

You stopped drying your tears at the suddenness of the question. “Huh?...You actually want me in your home?”

“Only if you want to.” Todoroki squeezed your hand again attempting to signal the desire to have you with him in private.

Blood rose to your nose and you looked away in embarrassment. “…Okay.”

Todoroki couldn’t stop the widening of his eyes at your acceptance. A part of him truly believed you’d call him disgusting before jumping up and delivering one of your characteristic slaps to his face. The heavens knew just how badly that needed to happen. If you’d rejected him, the beast of revenge may have gone right back to where it resided, deep in the subconscious of his mind.

But no, you’d accepted him. And with that, you’d accept your punishment. If you were truly ready to take on a new life, you would need to repent for your old one.

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

Todoroki couldn’t stop the erratic beating of his heart as the two of you walked over the threshold into his house. He was closer and closer to fulfilling the dream of having you within his grips. But he couldn’t be too impatient as this would be the part where he would need to tread carefully. As the two of you took off your shoes, he would continue to watch your every move, like a jaguar stalking its prey.

“Woww!” Your eyes wandered around Todoroki’s living room, amazed at how expansive and beautifully designed it was. “Your house is so luxurious! And polished!” You looked back at Todoroki. “It suits you.”

Todoroki was a bit taken aback by your statement. As far as he knew, you had a rich father who catered to everything your callous heart desired. He was partly the reason behind his suffering seeing as that your father made sure any unpleasantry brought against you was hushed behind a closed door. “You aren’t used to this?” He stepped over to the mini-bar area and reached up to grab a specific bottle of wine.

“Huh?” You followed behind him and leaned against the bar counter, grazing your finger over the refined marble surface.

“This…kind of house. You aren’t used to it?” He grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer and began to pry off the wine bottle’s cork. “Your father was a rich businessman was he not?”

You scoffed as you rested your elbow on the marble. “My father was in the yakuza. Rich in some aspects, but no businessman.” Your eyes fell from Todoroki to the counter. “And we never got to live in a place anywhere this grand. Especially after he was taken down by the cops…”

“I see.” It made perfect sense honestly. Your yakuza connections would explain the lackeys, the apathy of the teachers towards your lechery, the strange approval of your actions by the entire class. It must’ve been hard behind the scenes having to be the daughter of a yakuza member, but nonetheless it wouldn’t your crimes against his humanity. Todoroki poured two glasses of wine and placed one on the counter next to you.

“Should we…sit on the couch?” You looked towards to main part of the living room, eyes landing on Todoroki’s expensive sectional. “I-I mean…if you want to…”

Todoroki noticed the flustering of your face and couldn’t help but think that if the two of you had met under different pretexts he would surely have made you his wife. But marriage is not what this affair is about. This affair is about satisfying the demon that grew expansively inside of him.

He grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers between yours as he picked up both glasses with his other hand. “I’d love to, Y/N”.

He walked the two of you over to the couch, waiting until you sat down to hand you your glass and sit closely beside you. He carefully watched as you took sips from the glass, mesmerized by the shape of lips and how you’d glossed them for your night out. They looked so soft and delicate and perfectly matched the dimensions of your face.

But your naivety obviously outmatched your beauty Todoroki thought. How could you so easily drink from the hands of someone who would so obviously want to get revenge on you? Did your newfound personality make you oblivious to the dangers of life? Maybe after wanting to permanently discard the remains of the yakuza from your brain, you decided to look at people in a new light. Maybe you wanted to just see the good in everyone and learn that most people aren’t out to destroy you. It is indeed a true thought; most people don’t want to destroy you.

But most people also don’t subject those around them to abhorrent acts of malice. And for that, your naivety would prove to be one of the worst decisions you’d made in your small existence.

“Your wine…it tastes very good.” You had swirled what left of it you had before drinking it all within a couple more gulps.

Probably the best compliment you could have said in your life. Todoroki had taken the time to make sure every speckle of power was completely dissolved into the wine. He couldn’t taste it himself or get a taste tester of course, so he would have just had to wait until your ultimate encountering to test it. And it worked.

“It was a gift from a friend abroad.” A lie. But a believable lie. “I’m glad you like it.”

You quizzingly looked at his still full glass of wine in his hand. “Why didn’t you drink any?”

“Oh...I- well I guess I am already a bit tipsy from the bar so further consumption would be ill-advised.” He smoothy stated before placing the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggled at the statement as Todoroki internally cackled at your gullibility.

“You know, Todoroki…” Your eyes strayed to your lap. “I know this must mean nothing coming from me but…I liked you a lot in high school.” You twirled your index finger in circles on your skirt. “And I know I was mean to you but…I believe that our encounter must have been fate because, well…I still like you.”

Todoroki smiled, a cover-up for the guttural laughter that wanted to burst out of him. He let go of your hand and traced his fingers across your cheek before holding the side of your face delicately in his hand. “That…means more than you’d ever know, Y/N.”

“Shouto…”

He leaned over to give you a peck on the cheek before pressing his lips against yours. Your lips were just as soft as they looked and the gloss you wore provided a sweet vanilla taste. You sunk your hand into the red side of his hair before slipping your tongue in between his lips. Your tongue felt hot in his mouth and Todoroki grabbed your head to pull you deeper into the kiss. He tasted every part of your mouth that he could with his tongue. Your teeth, your gums, the inside of your cheeks. He made sure to leave his mark everywhere in your mouth, foreboding to the marks that would soon be left on your body.

As his kiss got deeper, yours became shallower and lazier. Eventually you pressed your hand against his chest to softly get him to back up.

“I’m sorry, Shouto…” You pressed your hand to your forehead. “It seems…I have a headache…and I’m kinda sleepy.” Your eyelids drooped heavily as sleep seemed to overcome you. “I…should go home.”

Shouto grabbed your head and leaned you down on the couch, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Ssshh…its okay Y/N. You can just sleep here for tonight. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

“Okay…thankyou, Shouto.” You quickly drifted off to sleep at the finish of your sentence.

When Todoroki felt the heaves of your chest raise higher and lower at deeper levels, he picked you up into his arms, carrying you gently to make sure you wouldn’t wake up. Though that was a rare chance seeing as how he put a little extra power in the wine to make sure it would subdue you. He carried you down the corridor to the door that would lead to your demise. Before he walked down the stairs, he whispered into your non-listening ear.

“This encounter is indeed special, Y/N. But it will be more special to you than it will for me…because tonight will mark my vengeance. And tonight will also mark…your repentance.”

#todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki smut #shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #dark todoroki #shouto todoroki #dark!todoroki

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

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pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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doyumacy · 4 years ago

Text

FALLOUT |LH| TWO

gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of yuta. swearing, blood (i’ll let you know when there are parts with blood mentions), smut (let you know), violence, angst

WORD COUNT: 2,9K

ONE TWO THREE

It had been a week since Donghyuck was working as your personal bodyguard and things were apparently going well. The threats had stopped, but they didn't want to let their guard down in case something happened.

Donghyuck and you had got a little closer since they used to spend quite a lot of time together. One night, you left the office at one o'clock in the morning and after Donghyuck insisted you eat something, you ended up eating at a stall in a street in downtown Seoul.

You took the opportunity to get to know each other a little bit better and Donghyuck told you that he wanted to be a music producer and went to music school, but his father never approved it and had to devote himself to what he did.

On the other hand, you shared that you never thought of becoming a CEO. You always pictured yourself a baker and having a small bakery, but somehow you weren't a great baker. He found it very interesting how the tables turned.

On Wednesday, Donghyuck arrived earlier than normal and you extended your hand and shook his, greeting him, pleased to note how firm and strong his handshake was. Why did a handshake suddenly seem so much more evocative? You had shaken hundreds, thousands, of men’s hands and none, not even your ex-partners, had a touch that brought shivers to your spine like that.

Maybe that day wouldn’t be so bad after all. You thought.

You had been told that one of your negotiations had been called off and they notified you right after you arrived at their building. What a waste of time.

“Ma’am, I was wondering if we could discuss you using the underground entrance from now on?” Donghyuck inquired.

No, it was still a bad morning. With one question, the attractive bodyguard brought on you wrath and was anything but attractive to you anymore. How many times have you instructed the driver and the staff that you were going to continue to enter the Genesis Intelligence Headquarters.

And how many times did you need to remind Donghyuck to call you (Y/N), not “Ma’am“?

“I’m late for a meeting,” you snapped. You turned on your shoes and started towards the building.

As irritated as you were, you were still aware of the presence of the well-built Donghyuck a few steps behind you and caught a glimpse of him in the window’s reflection as you entered the building. Hmmm, you sighed. «Even if he does annoy me, he is still lovely to look at.»

In your irritation and your attempt to get back on schedule, you lost sight of Donghyuck for the next ninety minutes. The 9:30 meeting to which you were late did not go well. Again.

As you exited the meeting to take his 10:00 call, Lia approached you. “I’ve confirmed your slot with Lee Youngjoon for tomorrow, but Nakamoto Yuta wants to see you at 10:45 this morning, instead of 11:30. He insisted.”

You frowned. Yuta? You hadn't heard or seen him in a year and suddenly he wanted a meeting with you?

You glanced at your watch. It was just shy of 10:00. If you were lucky, you could take your call and still make it to 10:45.

“Why?” You demanded.

“I don’t know, but he was very persistent.” Lia came to the response.

“Fine. Make sure to update security on the change in plans,” You instructed Lia. “Thanks, Lia.”

Fifteen minutes later, while in the middle of your 10:00 call, Donghyuck knocked on her door. Oh right, him. He entered your office without waiting for your response. You glared at him as you put your call on hold.

“Ma’am, we need to be leaving for your meeting if you want to make it on time.”

“I’m afraid you have the time wrong. We have another fifteen minutes and I need to finish this call.”

“No, ma’am. We need to take an alternate route. If we don’t leave now, you’ll be late.”

You continued glaring at Donghyuck. “Why? What’s wrong with our regular route? I could walk there faster than what you’re proposing.”

“I don’t doubt that ma’am, but I would advise against it. It’s all for your safety, ma’am.”

It seemed unlikely that you would win on this one. You ended your call, gathered your things, and followed Donghyuck to the elevators, where he selected the basement level rather than the ground floor. You shook your head and sighed. Once the elevator stopped, Donghycuk led you through to the underground entrance, where your car was waiting.

“Donghyuck, this will be the first and only time you have me use the underground entrance, do you understand?“ Your tone was scathing.

Donghyuck nodded in silence and as he held open the car door for you, your hand accidentally brushed against his and you couldn’t help but catch a whiff of his cologne. You froze. For three seconds, the world stopped. You were distracted by how attractive Donghyuck was. You almost didn’t want to move. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, for as long as possible.

Your reverie was broken by the sound of a car horn somewhere else in the garage. You felt a rush of heat flood to your cheeks. You slid down into his seat as Donghyuck closed the car door, hoping that he hadn’t noticed any of this. That behaviour, those reactions, were completely out of character. Even after the car started moving, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

…

“You look as beautiful as usual, sweetheart,” Yuta greeted you planting a kiss on your cheek.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you told him.

Yuta clicked his tongue, not sure what if he had done something wrong. “Come.” With that, you walked into his office,, leaving the door open. Donghyuck gave you a look and stood right in the door, turning his back on you.

“Since when do you have a dog following you around?” Yuta raised an eyebrow, sitting on his chair, eyeing Donghyuck. “I think I’ve seen him before.”

“He’s my bodyguard, not my dog,” you corrected him and sat in front of him. “And why don't you ask him?

Yuta shook his head. “Maybe he was someone else’s dog before you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why did you want to see me?”

“Because I missed you.”

“Cut the crap.”

Yuta giggled. “You’re really having a bad day, huh? What happened?”

You sighed and relaxed on the chair. “The guy from Hong Kong called off the negotiation this morning and I was counting with that money for the new software we were going to launch next year. And he fucking called me right when I was outside the building!”

“I warned you about him, sweetie.”

“That’s the last thing I need right now, Yuta,” you glanced at him.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he nodded. “What if I invest in it?”

“You?” You looked at him. “Why would you do that? We’re literally direct competition.”

“We could launch it together. Right now your A.I is one of the best in the market, and I’m not gonna lie: I’m a bit jealous,” he admitted. “You combine tasks such as teaching self-driving cars to avoid accidents, assessing damage of a natural disaster, and detecting parking lot usage. This is all done through drone and satellite imagery.”

“Who in hell would've come up with that?” Yuta looked at you. “I can help you penetrate the Japanese market and get even bigger.”

You bite your lip. It’s true, during the last year you did everything to crack the Japanese market but failed and since Yuta’s company was a large and established company there, he could help you.

“You are really willing to negotiate with me?” You asked him.

He nodded. “I’ve known you for many years and I have followed your work. I’m pretty sure Genesis Intelligence could take over Industrial artificial intelligence.”

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds and stood up walking around his office. “I need to think about it. You’re my friend and I don’t want business to screw things up.”

Yuta laughed and stood next to you placing a hand on your shoulder. “If sex didn’t screw things up neither will this.”

“Oh my, God. Shut up,” you hissed, looking to where Donghyuck was standing. He didn't even seem to move. You looked back at Yuta. “I’m gonna leave.”

Yuta chuckled and caressed your shoulders. “Stay, it’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You squint your eyes looking at him. “I’m not gonna fuck with you in your office.”

“I never said anything about fucking, but if you want me to bend you over my d-” You placed a hand on his mouth to stop him from talking and sighed.

“I’ll tell my assistant to call you so we can arrange a meeting soon with the rest of the staff,” you told him and grabbed your purse.

“I’m looking forward,” he smirked.

You nodded and started making your way out of the office when he called you. “(Y/N)?”

You turned around. “Yes?”

“Your ass looks incredibly hot today in those dress pants,” he smiled at you.

“Good afternoon, Yuta,” you said leaving his office.

Donghyuck started walking behind you, escorting you and didn’t understand why the comments Yuta made got him upset. Was he your boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend, perhaps? Your lover?

Why did he even care? It wasn't as if he was interested in you. He had a task he must comply with. Just another job. That's what this was supposed to be. He had done it dozens of times, killed someone for money, that is. He'd earned a reputation among others in his trade for being discreet, efficient, and the ability to make it look like an accident. He quite enjoyed it, too. It was an outlet for his creativity and frustration and he had a lot to be frustrated about.

You two were sharing the enclosed, confined space of a gaudy elevator. The metal around you was pristine, without a single smudge to be seen. Directly behind you, it seemed a ceiling to floor mirror was installed over the wall of the elevator... For what reason, Donghyuck sure. He wasn't much of an aestheticist anyway, prefered things to be plain or simple in design.

There was an awkward silence and you cursed Yuta’s building which had 25 floors. The ride was long.

“So… Mr. Nakamoto and you?” Donghyuck broke the silence. You looked at him, frowning. “Right, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

You scratched your forehead and then snickered leaning against the metal wall. “I’m guessing you heard our conversation. Sorry about that.”

“No, please. I apologise. Again, it’s none of my business, ma’am.”

“Yuta and I used to… be really good friends,” you looked at him. “That’s in the past, and it’s even more buried now that we’re gonna be partners. It wouldn't be ethical.”

Donghyuck nodded. “Got it, ma’am.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “You need to stop calling me ‘ma’am. I feel like a 50 year old woman.”

“Sorry ma’am, but you don't look anything like a 50 year old woman,” Dongyuck glanced at you.

Your overactive imagination can’t help but bring that off-handed comment to life inside your head. You smiled. "Thank you. So, will you stop calling me that?"

"No."

You sighed. "Please?"

Donghyuck laughed lightly. “You worry too much about that.”

“Yes,” You didn't deny it. “It's strange. You're only 2 years older than me and are ma'aming me everyday.”

Donghyuck smirked at the word you used. “You’re my boss. I’m just being professional.”

Your mouth opened to speak, but the elevator suddenly shook, the lights flicker, and you stumbled. Donghyuck reacted without hesitation, sidestepping to make sure that you fall into his chest instead of to your knees. The emergency light of the elevator turned on, and you two shared a glance at each other.

“Did it break?” A stupid question, you're sure.

Donghyuck hummed, stepping away from you and towards the elevator door before banging a fist against it. He checked the elevator buttons, then leaned back to glance up at the dial above the door - you're stuck between the sixth and fifth floor. Donghyuck pulled out his cellphone and groaned. "I have no signal."

You breathed a couple of times and looked at him. "Am I under attack? Am I gonna get killed here? Did someone plan this?!"

"Hey, hey," Donghyuck cupped your face with his hands and stared at you. "It's just a shut down. You're okay, nothing will happen to you as long as you're with me."

You nodded and closed your eyes trying to relax. Donghyuck's hands around your face felt like heaven; they were warm and soft. You opened your eyes again just to see a Donghyuck still staring at you. You could drown in that look. "Better?"

"Yeah, thank you," you whispered.

Donghyuck let go of your face and you hated the feeling of emptiness he left.

The bright lights flickered on and made you squint. You clapped your hands together cheerfully, turning to look at the dial over the door that begins to move again. “Oh, thank God!"

“Told you,” Donghyuck smiled at you. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.”

…

Your hands moved from his shoulders to the top button of his shirt. As you slowly unfastened button after button, your piercing eyes met his. Donghyuck thought he might come just from the intensity of your look and the feel of your fingers opening up his shirt. Donghyuck’s fingers grazed across your stomach and you shivered. Your hands moved around to Donghyuck's back, underneath his shirt. You pulled him closer to you, but not close enough that your lower halves touched. In fact, it appeared that he intentionally stopped their lower halves from touching. In one quick movement, you had Donghyuck shirtless. He barely registered when you started kissing his neck and then his chest with soft kisses. When your hands reached the top of his pants, you slipped them between the fabric and his skin. Grabbing the top of your ass, he finally pulled his lower half in contact with your lower half...

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Donghyuck awoke with a start. His breath erratic, his heart racing. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and what was happening. Donghyuck looked around his room, around his bed. Both were empty, as always. It was a dream. Just a dream. You weren’t there.

He groaned when realised someone had woken up very ‘pleased’ that morning. Donghyuck ran a hand through his hair and got out of bed walking to the bathroom and taking care of his ‘problem’ and getting ready to go to work.

And that same night, you sat in the venue dressing room where you were about to make a speech, reviewing your notes. Donghyuck stood silent and still by the hallway door.

Lia entered the room, carrying several cups of coffee and a bag of food. It was about damn time. You had requested the coffee as soon as you got there; what had taken her so long? You had less than ten minutes to down the cup of decaf.

After having two sips of coffee, the venue manager called you so you could wait backstage since you would be on it in 5 minutes.

As the presenter made his little speech, you tried to crack your fingers for the third time in the day. You were nervous and Donghyuck noticed it. “If you keep trying to do that you’re gonna end up with no bones to crack for the rest of your life.”

“Huh?” You looked at him and then giggled. “Sorry, it’s just that… I’m nervous.”

“I never thought you were the nervous type when it came to speeches,” he said.

“It’s not about giving the speech, it's about who is here,” you sighed.

“And that is?” Donghyuck raised both eyebrows.

“My father.” You admitted.

“He 's here?”

You nodded and your eyes went to the crowd looking for him until you spotted him. “Do you see the man with the grey suit and a black tie, surrounded by 4 guards?”

Donghyuck’s eyes slyly followed yours and found the man you were talking about. He knew him from somewhere. He squinted to have a better look of his face and froze when he recognised. There was no way.

“... he technically is my father, but left my mom when I was a newborn and never came back. And 3 years ago he contacted me telling me he’s interested in my business but I have no plans to sell it or make a partnership by any means…”

Donghyuck was aware you were talking to him but he couldn’t stop looking at the man, or your father. Why would he want you dead? So he could take over your business? That was evil.

“Right?” You looked at him and shook your hand in front of him. “Donghyuck? Are you alright?”

“Yeah… yeah,” he shook his head and gave you a warm smile. “I was just… shocked to know he’s your father.”

“He’s a businessman with relations pretty much everywhere,” you said, “he’s so judgmental of my work but hasn’t even bothered to get to know me better. I guess he’s a natural dick.”

“He is… I mean, you’re great. He should feel lucky to have you, but he doesn’t appreciate that.” He looked at you. “You turned out great without him.”

“That’s what my mom says,” you beamed. “I should relax, what can he do to ruin me? Nothing.”

He gulped. Little did you know.

#donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagine #donghyuck smut #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct x reader #nct haechan #nct dream

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twomoonstwosuns · 4 years ago

Text

the interview.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warning: smut (18+), swearing, fluff

word count: 4.7k

a/n: guys I'm so sad, this is it before the epilogue. I have many thoughts and feelings that I'll put in a different post but this would not be what it’s become without you so THANK YOU!

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“Hey Poe, it’s me. I just got out of my interview. I think it went well, but…I don’t know. We’ll see. I think I rambled a little bit. Anyway, you’re probably going into your interview now so good luck, I love you, you’re going to do great, and I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. Love you, bye.”

Tucking your phone back into your bag, you walked along the boardwalk towards the café you were meeting Finn at for lunch. He had texted you saying he got stuck in some traffic and would be a few minutes late. You decided to wait for him outside, the view of the ocean sparkling in the bright sun too enticing to not stop and admire for a bit.

The interview, at least, hadn’t been a disaster. The job was an entry level position at a small public relations firm looking to expand it’s teams. It was nerve-wracking at first at the beginning, but as you learned more about the company and got into comfortable conversation with your interviewer, you felt more confident. There were a few questions you answered that you felt nerves got the better of you, like four years of knowledge just flew right out the window, and you talked in sentences you weren’t even sure were complete. But the woman interviewing you didn’t say anything and at times seemed almost charmed by it. You could only hope.

As you stood against the wooden fence separating the edge of the boardwalk from a large span of grass, a part of you could see yourself moving to Los Angeles, enjoying the sun everyday and taking weekly trips to Venice or Santa Monica to spend the day by the beach. It was incredibly tempting.

But you’d be alone, your friends, family, and boyfriend a thousand miles away. You didn’t know if you could enjoy it without any of them there.

Sunglasses perched on your reddening nose, the gentle ocean breeze moved your curled hair around your face. He sound of the waves was calming, putting you so far into a daze that you didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching you.

“I promise, if you move here that view will never get old.”

Finn stood behind you, hands in his pockets as he looked at the ocean. He smiled when you jumped at the sound of his voice bringing you out of your calming trance. He took a step towards you and hugged you tightly, lifting you up off the ground.

“How are you, nugget?”

“I’m good! I miss you. How are you?”

“Also good. Hungry.”

“Come on, let’s go eat then.”

Finn set you down and you followed him into the café, taking a peek at the menu before ordering and bringing a number plaque over to a table.

“So, congrats on graduating! You’re a real life working adult now. Or, you will be.”

You gave him an uncertain smile. “Thanks…I’m terrified. I’ve had one job interview and I’m ready to marry rich and jet across the world as a trophy wife.”

Finn chuckled. “You’ll be fine. How’d the job interview go?”

“Okay, I think…they said they’d call me within a day or so if they want me to do a second interview. They’re interviewing a few other people so I might not hear anything until tomorrow or even Monday.”

“I think they call you.”

“You’re just biased,” you teased and Finn smirked and shrugged.

“Maybe a little.” He sent you a wink and you giggled, his tone teasing but the vote of confidence greatly appreciated nonetheless. The waiter came by with the food, sandwiches for both of you, and set them in front of you.

“So what’s new with you? I’ve barely talked to you the last few weeks…finals and all…”

“Well, I’ve been seeing a girl who lives up here.”

“Really?” You smiled. “Tell me about her.”

“Her name is Paige, I’ve been seeing her about four and a half months now…”

“Since January?” He nodded. “Poe didn’t mention you were seeing anyone…”

“He doesn’t know. I really, really like her and things have been moving kind of fast and I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“Moving fast isn’t a bad thing…hello, I met Kes after a month of dating and told Poe I loved him after two and a half months.”

“And he knew he loved you when Rey and I met you.”

“See? Poe and I are the king and queen moving fast and look at us! We’re happy!” Finn chuckled. “So, tell me more about her. What’s she like?”

Finn smiled and shook his head. “She’s amazing and beautiful and funny…she went to school for business and accounting but found it boring, so she’s worked tons of odd jobs…like, she worked at Disneyland for a bit, she’s an artist and she’s had her paintings featured in a couple galleries around SoCal…currently she works part time at a bar in Santa Monica and she’s an L.A. tour guide on the weekends.”

You quietly squealed. “Look at that smile on your face! You really like her!”

Finn nodded slowly and took his bottom lip and tucked it under his teeth.

“Can you keep a secret?”

You nodded and Finn grabbed his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out a picture and set it in front of you. The blur of black, grey, and white gave way to a very obvious shape in the middle of the picture.

“Finn!” You gasped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. The smile on his face was so wide you were sure it would split his face in half.

“Ten weeks. Well, she’s twelve weeks now. We wanted to wait until the three month mark to start telling people.” You looked up at him, eyes wide. He looked at the sonogram adoringly. “It was a complete accident, so hopefully she likes me enough to put up with me for the rest of our lives.”

Your eyes watered and you smiled widely. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, nugget. I’m so…fuck, I’m so excited. Granted, this isn’t the way I wanted to do this…I imagine I’d be married first…”

You smiled softly. “As long as that baby is loved, which I have no doubt that he or she will, then who cares how it happened.”

Finn nodded and grabbed the picture, smiling at it once more before putting it back into his wallet.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Finn,” you said softly, placing your hand on his arm. “And I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.”

“We’re coming up fourth of July weekend. Poe, Rey, and I rent a cabin on the lake and we spend the long weekend there. You’ll probably be coming so you can meet her then.” You nodded happily, already excited for something happening a month and a half away.

“So, when are you and Poe having kids?” You threw your head back and laughed loudly. “What?! You said you guys move fast!”

You threw one of your chips at him and it bounced off of his chest and onto the floor.

“Yeah, not that fast! I just finished school, I’m not ready to have a baby!”

“But by Christmas, right?”

You giggled and threw another chip at him, which he caught and popped into his mouth. Your phone buzzed on the table and you saw an unfamiliar number flashing on your screen. Finn looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

“That’s an L.A. area code.”

You swallowed hard and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Y/N L/N.”

“Yes, this is…” you said nervously. Finn looked at you with interest.

“Y/N, this is Jyn Erso with Erso PR.”

“Oh, hi…” Finn mouthed ‘who is it?’ at you and you held a finger up. The woman on the other end chuckled warmly.

“I can tell you’re a little surprised I’m calling you right now.”

“Yeah, a little…I just left a little under two hours ago.”

“Well, I took a closer look at your resume and some of the work in your portfolio and, with your interview earlier today, I wanted to call and offer you the job.”

Your eyes widened and you stumbled over your words. “Wha—wait, really?”

“I know we said we’d call you to set up a second interview but I was very impressed with you today and I think you’d make a great addition to our team.”

“Wow, um…thank you!” You looked at Finn and bit your lip. “Can I…could I think about it?”

“Of course you can. I know you’re coming from quite a ways away and have a lot of factors to consider, so please take a few days to think about it. The number I’m calling from is my office number, please feel free to call it if you have any questions.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good day and a safe flight home.”

You hung up the call and looked at Finn, your face showing a disbelieving smile.

“I got the job.”

“Damn, congratulations!” You didn’t, couldn’t, say anything. You were still in a little bit of shock from receiving that phone call. “Or not…?”

“I….I don’t know! I wasn’t expecting this!” You sat back in your chair, crossing your arms in front of you and looking at Finn. “What do I do?”

“Well, you obviously didn’t say yes…did they say you could think about it?” You nodded. “Then you think about it.”

You sighed. “This job…there’s so many opportunities for growth. It’s the kind of job that could kickstart by career. Honestly, I’d be stupid not to take it.”

“But there’s a lot of factors you have to consider.”

“Exactly…I don’t know what to do.” You looked up at Finn. “What do I do?”

Finn sighed and finished off his sandwich, wiping his hands and tossing the napkin in the basket.

“I wish I could tell you to just take it, but it’s not that easy.”

You exhaled sharply and ran a hand through your hair.

“No, it’s not.”

》》》

The job offer was in the back of your mind the rest of your lunch with Finn and didn’t fully sink in until you were on your way to the airport. You spent the two and a half hour plane ride going through every pro you could think of: the job itself, working and building your career, a new city with lots of opportunities, and sunshine and warmth everyday. But there were also the cons: moving expenses, finding an apartment you could actually afford that was close to work, and navigating a new city. Not to mention your friends and family would be a thousand miles away.

Poe would be a thousand miles away.

You walked off the plane and drove home still undecided. Even the drive home couldn’t help you come to a decision. You were much too excited to see Poe and hear about his interview. He had texted you when you landed that he was finishing up with dinner and insisted on waiting for you to get there to eat, but you encouraged him to go ahead without you. Your stomach felt twisted with nerves and there was no room for food at that moment.

You walked into Poe’s apartment and was immediately greeted by Beebs. The smell of garlic and other spices was intoxicating and you followed it to the kitchen where Poe was dishing it up into containers for you to eat later.

“Hey!” He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, walking over and pecking your lips quickly before putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. “How as your flight?”

“Good,” you said, dropping your stuff and taking off your shoes. “Little turbulent, but fine.”

Poe smiled and came around the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms. You could hardly contain the smile on your face.

“So?”

Poe smiled widely. “I got the job.”

“You got it?!” You exclaimed. “I’m so proud of you!”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe it…I’ve been pinching myself making sure it was real all day. After all the sabotage from Hux and our secret relationship, Leia really stuck her neck out for me to get this job.” You smiled proudly. “This is just…the best fucking day.”

The smile on his face reached his eyes, which shone brightly with pure happiness. “I’m so, so happy for you, Poe. You deserve this. You’re an amazing teacher and you’re going to make an amazing head of the department. Your department.”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet. I wanted to talk to you about it, especially because you just had a job interview yourself. Which, speaking of, how did it go?”

“I actually got the job too.”

“You did?! Congrats!”

“Thanks…but I’m not going to take it.”

Poe’s smile disappeared. “You’re not?”

You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want it.”

“But raved about interviewing for this job. It’s what you’ve been talking about for weeks. You were so excited and now you got it.”

“And you got yours.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to feel like I’m making you choose between me and a job—“

“You’re not,” you stressed, taking a step towards him. “This is my decision. I am choosing you over the job and I’m perfectly okay with it. I’m just starting to job hunt and if I take the first job I’m offered, I can’t build up my interview skills and I won’t know what else is out there. What if I find something better? My gut is telling me this is the right move, so I’m doing it.”

“Have you thought this all the way through? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I have thought about it. I talked to Finn earlier at lunch after they called me and did nothing but think about it while I was waiting for my flight and on the airplane. I was still undecided up until you told me you got your dream job, the one you’ve been talking about for months and months.” You sighed and put your hands on his chest. “You almost sacrificed getting this job to protect me…to protect us. Now you’ve got the job and all I want to be here to hear all about it at the end of the day. And I can’t do that if I’m in California."

Poe gave you a look of uncertainty and you smiled softly. “I love you. So much. We did not fight this hard for our relationship just to do long distance. This is what I truly want.”

Poe nodded and returned your smile. “As long as it’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Silence fell over you for a moment before your delighted squeals pierced the air. Poe had suddenly grabbed your waist, picking you up and spinning you around. Your arms went around his neck and he kissed the spot where your neck met your shoulder before looking at you.

“I got the job.” He smiled and you put your hands on his cheeks.

“You got the damn job.”

You pulled his lips to yours, the two pairs moving passionately together. After months and months of uncertainty and secrecy, things were finally going your way.

“Do you want to go get a drink to celebrate?”

You smiled suggestively and shook your head. “Maybe tomorrow. Tonight…I want to celebrate with you. Alone. Naked.”

He smirked and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he quickly made his way to his bedroom, his lips connecting with yours once again. He nearly dropped you on the bed in his excitement and you sat up as he got on the bed next to you. You moved to straddle his lap and your kisses grew hotter, the passion just as intense but the desire for each other burning brighter as you ground your hips against his. You grabbed your shirt and brought it up over your head, Poe leaning in and kissing your chest before you could toss it aside. His dark hair was messy from your hands and became more disheveled when you yanked his shirt off.

“You’re sexy,” you said as you ran your hands over his chest. He smirked and reached for the buttons of your dress pants.

“You’re fucking sexy,” he retorted, dipping his fingers into your underwear and immediately finding your clit. Your mouth opened slightly and he wrapped his arm around your waist and started to lay you down on the bed.

“No, wait!”

Poe froze and you pushed him back to his position on the bed, his eyebrow cocked with curiosity.

“You want to be on top?”

You smirked mischievously and grabbed his wrist, removing his fingers from your pussy. You brought them to your mouth and gave them a quick suck before moving down his lap and further down the bed, bringing his pants down with you. Kissing his stomach, your fingers dipped under the band of his briefs. He was already hard and you wasted no time removing his briefs and wrapping your hand around him. Poe let out a soft sigh of approval as you pumped him slowly. You swirled your tongue lightly around the tip and Poe let out a sound between a moan and a whimper with a very quiet plea falling from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled. “What was that?”

He swallowed hard, his body ringing with want. “Please.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your lips around him, taking him in your mouth inch by inch. His head fell back against the pillows, closing for just a minute before looking back down at you. He gathered your hair back so it was out of your face, biting his lip and watching your head bob as you sucked him off. A quiet ‘fuck’ left his lips and you released him from your mouth, your hand pumping him quickly and your tongue found the base of his cock. You ran your tongue slowly, teasingly up the length of him before taking him in your mouth again. Your hand and mouth worked in tandem, bringing him closer and closer to the edge each time he watched your cheeks hollow around him.

But Poe wasn’t ready to be done quite yet.

“G—fuck….get up here.”

You ignored him, sliding your mouth all the way down his length until he touched back of your throat. The groan that came from him came deep from within him and it took all his strength to tug on your hair again instead of giving into the immense pleasure you were giving him and coming too soon.

“Get up here. Now.”

You let him go with a pop, crawling up into his lap again. “Mmm, bossy. I like it.”

He smirked as you grabbed him again to line him up with your entrance. “Another day, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and nodded as you sunk down on him slowly, a soft groan leaving your lips as he filled you all the way up. He attached his lips to your neck, his teeth leaving little love bites along your collarbone as you grinded against him. Your hand came back up to his hair, tugging the inky strands at the base of his neck and he quietly moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“F—ohhh…fuck, baby…” your voice was breathy, a sound Poe could listen to forever. The way you called him ‘baby’, even in the throes of pleasure, tugged on his heartstrings a little bit. One hand splayed across your back, the ends of your hair threading between his fingers. The other hand rested on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as each shot of pleasure hit deep in your stomachs.

Poe’s lips traveled down to your chest and attached to your breast, sucking small marks onto your skin. A symphony of sounds filled the room: the sound of skin slapping against skin, yours and his moans of pleasure, and his name tumbling past your lips with a slew of expletives. Your hand found his headboard, grabbing it to use as leverage and support as your body was weakened by pleasure.

He kissed up your neck and found your lips once again, his tongue invading your mouth and tangling with yours. You moved faster, your body becoming slick with exertion. You struggled to kiss him back, your quick movements making you nearly gasp for breath. You rode him hard, the both of you chasing the high you wanted so badly.

You whimpered as you the burn in your belly grew hotter, the mind-blowing orgasm you always got with Poe building. Poe felt the same, having used a great deal of strength to hold off so he could give you the same kind of ecstasy you were giving him. Your body tensed and you clenched around him as his cock found that spot that drove you absolutely wild.

“Come for me, baby…” Poe’s voice was also breathless but still held the tone of finality, like he was commanding you. The idea alone spurred you on further and his hands helped you slam yourself down onto his cock, your body movements becoming sloppy as you started to lose control. “Come on baby, that’s it.”

His thumb found your clit and he rubbed it quickly, the sudden addition of stimulation making your body twitch and send you over the edge. You came hard, your body shaking in his hands and a loud moan coming from deep within your throat as the iron struck white hot in your lower stomach. He held you still and thrust up into you and your hand shook the headboard, making it loudly knock against the wall. Poe gritted his teeth and his head fell back as he came, spurt after spurt of his release filling you up. You both slowed, the intensity of your orgasms making you fight to catch your breath like you just ran a marathon. Your head fell against his and he presses his lips to whatever part of your face that was closest to him.

“You…you ride me so well.”

You let out a breathless laugh, allowing Poe to put both arms around you and bring you down on top of him as he laid back against his pillows. He rubbed your back slowly, neither of you bothering to move. His softening cock stayed nestled inside you as the both of you catching your breath in the afterglow.

“You know, I was thinking?” Poe asked after several minutes of comfortable silence. You hummed in acknowledgement. “You should move in with me.”

You looked up at him, your fingers running along the silver chain around his neck.

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“It might be…but I also know this is what I want.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering.

“We went on our first date on Valentine’s Day but we’ve technically been dating since Halloween,” he said, the memories making you smile. “I know it was supposed to be just a one time hookup and then after that just casual sex but it ended up being a lot of talking. We were basically on dates, we just did sex first and got to know each other afterwards. So, in my mind, we’ve been together for about seven and a half months.”

He ran his knuckle across your cheek and you didn’t know if your cheeks were still flushed from sex or if they were flushing from the way he was looking at you - with pure love and adoration.

“If it’s too soon for you, it’s okay. I do want to move in with you, but we can wait until you’re ready. Just the fact that you’ll be close by instead of hours and hours and hours away is good for me.”

You took in every word he said. The whole point of your plan to decline the job offer was to be with Poe, and moving in with him would mean being with him all the time. There was a sliver of doubt that crossed your mind, that maybe you’d get annoyed with each other after living together for awhile and learning each other’s daily quirks.

“What do you see? When you think about us moving in together?”

Poe smiled softly. He knew exactly what kind of house he wanted to move into someday. Since he imagined having a kid or two, he wanted a basement or an extra room to be used as a playroom. He wanted a big backyard with a large deck and fire pit for late summer nights. He’d thought about it plenty, imagined his future home many many times before you, but it became so much more clear to him after you told him you loved him. Poe had been thinking of you moving in since before graduation, but held off saying anything because of your job interview. He didn’t want you to feel pressured if you had gotten the job…like you had to give up the opportunity because you were moving.

He wanted all that with you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice your future to make his come true.

“Well…” He started, making sure to word things carefully so he wouldn’t scare you with how much he’d thought this through. “For now, we’d find a bigger apartment or a townhouse to rent…somewhere where there’s enough space for all of your things as well as mine…I think we’ve seen enough of the inside of this apartment.” You laughed lightly and nodded. “Maybe find one with an extra room we can turn into an office for us to work in. Eventually I’d like to buy a house, but I think that’s a few years away still.”

Though Poe was sparing you details, you could tell he’d been put a lot of thought into it. You didn’t blame him, he was in his early thirties and wanting to start settling down and building a life. You were still young, twenty-two with all the adventures of your twenties waiting for you…but you couldn’t imagine doing any of them without Poe. Navigating your way into the world post-education was going to be difficult. Nothing is promised. But having a place of your own to come home to with someone you loved, where you could relax and unwind and have that feeling of comfort and safety…you wanted that.

“That’s just what I’ve been thinking. We certainly don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” His voice brought you back from our own thoughts and you nodded slowly and continued to play with his necklace.

“You know I was talking to Finn earlier about how we move fast but everything’s worked out pretty good so far.” You shrugged, biting back the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face. “I don’t see why we should stop now.”

A smile slowly spread across Poe’s face. “Really?”

You nodded and sat up a little bit so you were hovering over him.

“Let’s start looking. See what we find. In the meantime…”

“You’ll move in with me?” He asked hopefully, his eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. You smiled widely.

“I would love to move in.” Poe leaned up and kissed your lips squarely and surely. “I can leave now, start packing…”

“Oh no,” Poe smirked as he wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re not going anywhere. Tonight, we celebrate.”

He rolled you over onto your back, never separating from you and burying his face in your neck and kissing it all over. Your laughter filled the room and you kissed him passionately, the room soon filling with different noises of pure happiness.

You couldn’t wait to start your future with him.

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#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron smut #back to you series #modern poe dameron #modern au #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x reader

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namjoonchronicles · 4 years ago

Text

tumble | yg

↳ genre fluff, established relationship, slight smut at the end

↳ words 5k ↳ summary preparing for close friend’s wedding gifts is a given for young married couple. an unexpected encounter with an old flame led to an unwanted rekindled feelings but karma reminds you who your heart truly belongs to, because it’s all about the actions, not words. ↳ notes this i wrote during first week of university of my final year, trying to run away from responsibility. midway, my friend @hellotherehoneybee was having a difficult week at hers too, so i wrote this extra fluff for her, i hope she noticed. thank you for working so hard! (i wish someone would comment on the work i put on the banners of each of my stories, but nevermind) ↳ warning attempts of infidelity (not by you) ↳ song ‘happiness is a butterfly’ lana del rey

Nimble fingers punched the numbers on the passcode pad, just outside the door. Crumpled papers on the floor. Supreme skateboards stacked on the wall. Yoongi walked in, greeted by a line of guitars at the corner of his studio. His attention was on the phone, preferring to text over calling. His face was shone by the light from it. His feet kicked away the crumpled papers on the floor to get to his computer. There’s a frame of baby breath on his table next to his stationery. A picture of you next to his desktop. Bothered by the melody he endlessly replayed in his head, he plans to record the notes in digital form. He hasn’t decided which work of his he wanted them in, but any of it would be just fine. Today, he is expecting a guest that will contribute to the guide. Jimin springs in first, as usual.

“Why do you lock the door knowing that I’m coming?!” Jimin groaned outside the door. He is leaning against the frames, knocking repeatedly.

This is exactly why he had those locks put up. Several young producers lined up. Yoongi is teaching them how to make music. With a wry look and dry greetings, Yoongi invited them in and started the meeting. The project is rather simple. Yoongi has provided a raw sample to the aspiring producers who will try to make lyrics. These melodies are then sung by Jimin. Yoongi whipped out his sample from his computer and he will give exactly 30 minute for the producers to think of ways to make the music a song. The young producers wrote down notes given by Yoongi. They write and they erase. They wrote and erased. Write. Scratch. Write. Scratch.

Noticing this, Yoongi gave a soft smile. It reminded him of himself when he was just starting. The uncertainty, the overwhelming feeling of not knowing if the lyrics are good enough, or just plain dumb. As an underground rapper with social anxiety, he was afraid to be ridiculed the most, and he is pretty sure that these producers have the same fear. What he is about to say is nothing new. In fact, he advises it frequently in his lectures. Clearing his throat and with the aura of a seasoned lyricist, he said,

“Go with your gut feelings. Understand the feel of the sample and what you could derive from it. Let your mind run wild. First rule of writing music is that there are no rules.”

He emphasizes on creativity. Jimin was trying to write the lyrics too. He wanted to learn to write faster. “Jimin, your problem is that you’re a perfectionist…” Yoongi spat, “Your mind goes haywire at the possibility of writing everything, you have no clear direction. That’s why it’s so hard. You select a theme, and you stay on it…”

“But Namjoon…” Jimin began.

“Namjoon is a genius. His diction is out of this world, and he has been writing lyrics for years. Don’t compare yourself to him or rather, learn with him rather than coming to me, uninvited,” Yoongi swivels in his chair as the three other producers hang their head low.

Jimin puckered his lips and muttered curses under his breath.

Yoongi reaches for the journal he kept by the book rack. When he opened them, a warranty card fell out. He crouches down to get them. It was from the phone you bought. He caught you buying a phone on an online store when he returns to the studio, earnestly picking a good one. You even asked him about these specs and technology terms you don’t know about. Some of it was written down as notes in this journal along with his own scribbles of song lyrics. You wanted to buy a phone for your mom and pretend that it was from your dad. Your mom always complains that your dad never gave her gifts and is reluctant to spend money on her. Yoongi didn’t need the extra information but you gave it to him anyway. Yoongi learnt from you that your mother had been using the same phone for a decade, and nothing can be updated anymore. And because your father isn’t doing anything about it but think about himself, you decide to buy your mom a good new phone. Saving your father’s face by pretending it was him who bought it.

You didn’t know this but, Yoongi fell in love with you once more.

That phone comes with a warranty card that is now made its home in his old journal. You know he wouldn’t throw any of his journals away.

Glancing at the digital clock on his shelf, he wondered, just how his favorite person in the world is doing…

Yoongi entertained questions from his students. Explaining the build up, the body, climax and ending. Sharing what is fun and what is not, in writing music. What’s cliché and what’s attention grabbing. But his explanation was cut halfway when his phone vibrated, and swiped his thumb over the caller ID and answered with a small, “Hello?”

Jimin and the students studied his face. At first, Yoongi seemed pretty laxed, and then he stood up, abruptly. Instantly and visibly tensed.

“Where are you?” Pause, “Okay, stay right there, I’ll be right over…” He grabs his coat from the hanger and his tongue glides along his drying lips upon ending the seemingly urgent call. He appears distressed but it is masked by his calm exterior.

“Is something the matter, hyung?” Jimin asked. “I have to leave, I am sorry because I have to cut the classes short. Make sure you email me the verses by noon tomorrow. I will deduct marks for late submissions…” Yoongi said in one breath and yanked the door open, had them leave the studio at once and locked them.

Namjoon was standing outside the hall, watching Yoongi as he trudges through. The older one was putting on his jacket albeit roughly and as quickly as he could. Namjoon couldn’t even get a proper greeting in return. It seems Yoongi is troubled by something.

Troubled by something is indeed accurate.

A few hours ago.

You thought you made a great choice. It’s what you wanted when it was your wedding, and you’re sure that Jungkook would like it too. Knowing just how obsessed he is with having everything the same color code, the sapphire blue kohiki plates would have fit in right into his kitchen like it’s one of the built-in. Yoongi always thought that Jungkook’s gifts are the hardest to choose because he is picky, but also not very picky. He has specified interest but also not very specified. You know more than anything that Jungkook is neither of those things. Ever since you knew the boy, he had always been grateful for any gifts he was given. It didn’t matter how expensive or how rare, it’s the thought that counts. Many years ago, Jungkook came to your house, when you and Yoongi were still dating, and he frequently used the kohiki bowls you have. He said he liked it. That's how you came to decide that his wedding gift would be just that. For his wife, you don’t really know her well, but you had Yoongi book a Swarovski perfume after recognizing that she frequently carries the fun sized bottle around when she’s out.

“Would you like to also see the latest collection of our Kohiki plates, Mdm. Min?” the salesperson politely addresses you and you thought that simply looking wouldn’t hurt. You after all had time to kill today.

Your hands glide over the impressive finishing of the white kohiki plates, truly in awe of the time and the craftsmanship involved in making this. They came in many sizes and as you narrowed down to the end of the gallery, you recognized a collection so similar with the one at home. You turned to the salesperson with a beaming smile, almost child-like. The man bowed at you and explained to you how this particular collection was especially sought after and high in demand, they decided to keep it in collection. Yoongi’s personal family collection had been imitated countless times in the past centuries, they eventually trademarked the design to be named, Empire Min’s timeless collection. It had served countless royalties in the whole world and the tableware was of grand prestige. Sometimes, it dawns over you that you married quite an incredible man with a lineage of such esteem, comparable to those of aristocracy.

Min Yoongi’s family may have stranded far from the royals now, but the traces are there. His delectable face, porcelain skin and honey-succulent voice, are as good as a blue bloods’. His family registrar was kept in the national museum and you had a glimpse of it during Chuseok every year, where they pay homage to his ancestors and it’s quite unbelievable that something from centuries ago was still available today. You didn’t ask a lot about how his family branched off the King, but you do know that the surname Min belonged to four most important Queens in the Joseon dynasty. Is that where his beauty originates from?

You smiled to yourself as you saw his signature underneath the gallery as the last few descendants of the Queen.

“The gifts are wrapped up, we will have it shipped personally to Mr. Jeon Jungkook as per addressed…” the salesman ensured you with an assuring voice.

Kohiki plates aren’t cheap to say the least. But Min Yoongi doesn’t like you worrying about it. Much less, he’d rather have you spend his hard-earned money because he doesn’t always know what you like. One last thing, a visit to the gallery with your trustee art enthusiast, Kim Namjoon.

He stride over as he ended the call. He looks everly dashing in those turtlenecks and grey blazer. His pectorals and buff body looks great in it. He wore those glasses that made him look like he was a postdoctoral student. Only he isn’t. He shoves his phone into his breast-pocket and his face shifted from a serious one to a cheeky expression. He presented his arm for you to take and embraced in a small talk with you.

“You just ended your lecture?” you asked him. “It took a little longer than planned, sorry about that…” he chuckles, handsomely.

“This gallery better be lit…” “You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

Namjoon guides you into an exhibition, guarded by several men in black suits and ear-pieces. The whole way there, you realized that there was no one around. It is only given, because Namjoon owns it. It seems he had it shut down for the day, because the most important painting is arriving from Versailles, and he wants nobody to have a look on it. Except you, of course. And it’s easier to do painting shopping without people hustling in and out trying to catch a glimpse of the ‘Kim Namjoon’. Namjoon talked to you about the randomness of things as he introduces to you his favorite works. He was talking about his sudden trip to Paris and how he regrets it, then talking about a wrong purchase and the books he is currently reading. All in a quiet voice, the kind you give to your lovers.

But you know that’s just Namjoon being flirtatious like it’s his second name.

Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. This section of the gallery feels like it’s cut off from the rest. It has been endless modern art since the entrance until a few paintings back. This one felt like it was Rome or the Renaissance. The sculptures and dramatic scenes, the skin tones and flesh, it was a whole other world. You turned to Namjoon, questioning him with your eyes. You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like this type of art.

“I had a change of heart… while trying to understand yours,” he confessed. And it sounded strange because he let those words glide out as if he had no control over it. He stepped back, pressed his lips together for saying more than he thought necessary, dropped his shoulder and turned to the art he loved.

“I understand it now,” he added, speaking to the frames, “Why do you like them so much… There’s so many stories to tell from each of these characters…”

You remember explaining to him about eyes in realistic paintings. How you wonder what they’ve seen, and what they have experienced. These endless thoughts usually trouble Namjoon, up to when he was about to sleep. You look beyond the surface of this painting and put feelings in them. That’s when he realized that emotions can be painted. Namjoon owed it to you, to having understood himself. And as he explained just how your art classes changed his perspective in life, he introduced to you the painting he thinks fit Jungkook the most. When you saw this painting unveiled before your eyes, you couldn’t agree more. It would look best in his spacious living room. Namjoon watched you as you signed the insurance paper to deliver the artwork. Watching you from afar like this felt foreign. With the history you both had, who would have thought that he would spend his life dreading the future he could have had with you.

It is all too late now.

The ring around your finger isn’t his. Maybe it’s for the better. He couldn’t have cared for you better than Yoongi does.

The most difficult thing about this relationship is, getting stuck between caring too much, and not caring at all.

“So you’ll deliver them to Jungkook’s house soon?” your eyes darted up at him as he approached the table.

“Leave it to me…” he said with a broad smile and dire confidence from a seasoned seller. A billion dollar man like him, could get away with anything with that smile.

Namjoon hooks his finger around the flaps of the door handle of your car and watches you climb in. Winding the window down, he rests his elbows and fixes his eyes on you, a coy smile on his pretty lips. You darted at him a look. A look you’d give to your malice doing little brother to warn him.

“Go on dates, go meet people, Namjoon… How long will you live this way?” “How would you know I’m not meeting people?” “You stacked books in my online bookstore, and still use my Netflix account to watch movies…” “Books and movies are better companions.”

You looked at him through your lashes and in those particular moments of silence, glances were exchanged and feeling somehow attempted to rekindle, however, before it could, you looked away.

“I’m going to Yoongi’s office, I’ll tell him you said hi…” “But I didn’t…” “Goodbye, Namjoon.”

The white Mazda CX-3 glides away, seamlessly. Stopped at the junction, and entered the main road. All these while, Namjoon kept watching. And it seems like, all his life, he had been watching. Because that was all what he was courageous enough to do.

“‘She loved him too early, and he loved her too late…” Namjoon muttered to himself.

At the junctions, your car pulls to a stop as the traffic light turns red. The building you were in were kilometers away but the scent of Namjoon’s body lotion hasn’t left. You always refrain from reading too much anything Namjoon does because you’re not who you were anymore. Your loyalty is with Min Yoongi now and it should be. Rather than feeling like you used to feel for Namjoon, it actually narrows more to pity. Namjoon had it all. He had your endless support, you had been his emotional anchor, and he had taken you for granted for many years. Eventually, you pick up your worth and search within yourself what you’ve given him. What you found out when you peel yourself away from everything that is Namjoon, is the fact that he had given you nothing but his concerns. There was no give and take. All he does is take.

Finding yourself, led you to finding Yoongi.

Yoongi was nothing easy to have. So it daunts you that difficult men might have been your type. Yoongi is rash and dry on his best day and even more harsh and unapologetic than anyone you have ever met. It came to a point where you exploded, thinking that even as life swallowed you whole and his arms was the only thing that could save you, you’d rather be swallowed whole. When Yoongi heard such a damning insult to his being, he got even. As harsh as Yoongi appears to be, he was a softie right under the flesh. Under his blank expression and inattentive eyes, he is all soul and bones. The more you know him, the more you realize that you both are strikingly alike. From the way you solve problems to the way he speaks, you both are a lot more common than you are different.

He is so intelligent and witty and blunt. You can ask him about literally anything and he always has an opinion about it. Because of his wide arrays of interest, you can never run out of topics to talk about. He is a great fun, and always adventurous although he prefers to whine about it at first. He said he hates camping but when you forced him to come with you, he looked like he has been camping his whole life. Lit the bonfire within seconds, adapted the forest life and just casually calm. The kind of calmness you hadn’t felt in awhile, you felt in Yoongi’s presence. Camping nights are always so romantic with him playing the guitars and you requesting songs you know he doesn’t know. There will be crinkles around his eyes before he looks down, embarrassed for not knowing that song. Once you give him a listen, he could play by ear.

He is adorable when he is confused or terribly tired. One night, he asked if you would come over his studio’s rooftop to spend time together. He spoke two sentences and fell asleep while you were talking. He unknowingly leaned his head on your shoulder as he dozes off. You brushed his hair away and thumbed his cheeks. His lips pouting cutely as he slept. You sat awfully still for hours, hours that he is still paying off with himself. To this day. It is astonishing how he could look like the cutest little kitty and also looked like he could swallow you whole.

His dangly multi earrings, gorgeous eyes and veiny arms, his multifaceted talents are as endless as his sweet words. Yoongi could make you feel heard without you saying a word.

The pedal planted to the ground, screeching tires and loud crashes. The windows on the driver side shattered and the airbag deployed. Loud ringing in your head as you try to gather your thoughts. What’s happened? You drove ahead a little more, because if you didn’t the road would have been congested. You pressed the hazard light on and parked on the side of the road to avoid other cars.

Hooking your fingers around the car handle, the door was pushed open. The car that collided with you stopped behind you. Your Mazda could continue driving but you don’t want to risk it because the shell of the tire was a little dented. The sharp ends were grazing your tire if you continued. The driver whose car you collided with was eerily quiet but he kept staring at an interval. You gathered your purse and fished for your phone.

“Please don’t get mad…” you huffed, “I got into an accident…” The back of your wrist on your forehead as you looked around in worry.

“I am at a round-a-about pass on Samsung Building 77 street… I’ll send the location,” you breathed, oddly a little calmer than he expected you to be. It all happens too quickly. You weren’t sure who was in the wrong. The last thing you remember was using the signal stick to turn to the right and the car on the right wanted to head to the left, surreptitiously ignoring the signal you gave. It seemed ages for Yoongi to get there, but when he did, he parked a little further and got off the car, jogging to where you are. Your eyes stung and got watery as he came to get you. You were so grateful that he wasn’t angry and in fact, just wanted to know where you were so he could be where you are. He held onto your hand as he went to inspect the car and its damages.

“What are you going to do with my headlight?” the owner of the other car came over, uninvited. Yoongi instinctively pulls you behind him at the forwardness of this man.

“Take it easy, let’s check the dashcam to see who was actually in the wrong, let’s take this to the police station…”

“What police station, it is more than obvious that she was driving recklessly and not paying attention!” The man tried to go over Yoongi to get to you but Yoongi held his palm outward at this rude man.

“Like I said, we will take this to the police station and they’ll decide who is in the wrong and needs to pay for the damages…” Yoongi once again marched against this man and stared dead into his eyes while dialing on his phone. He placed his phone on his ear and continued to warn the man with his body language.

“The insurance company? Yes, I have a car you need to tow. We’re along Samsung 77th Street by the roundabout, how long will you take to get here? 10 minutes, okay…” Yoongi spoke on the phone. You held onto Yoongi’s arm tighter. One hand in his tight grip, the other clawing on his sleeves, slightly below his elbow. Your eyes unfocused. You were biting your lips. Chewing on them.

Yoongi climbed into his car after you. Pressed the car engine on and thumbed your knee. You weren’t as calm now.

“What if it is actually my fault? What if I was the one driving foolishly…?” You stuttered.

“We will let the police decide okay? We hadn’t even seen the footage from the dash cam yet, he could just be manipulating you to think that you were in the wrong, just by the look on his face I know he’s the type to drive like a drunkard and blame people for his mistakes…” Yoongi’s large palm covered your entire knee.

“You want jellies?” he tries to console you. “What about the car?” you looked over the car seat to the view of your stranded Mazda.

“The insurance company will have it towed, don’t worry… It’ll be okay,” he smiles and chuckles lightly, “This isn’t a big deal, accidents happen all the time, honey.”

The car pulled to a stop at the red traffic light, and he extended his arm to gather your hand to kiss your knuckles. You looked at him with watery eyes, full of guilt and despair and you said to him in broken voice,

“I’m so s-sorry… I’ve troubled you,” you bursted into tears, “I just went out to get gifts for Jungkook’s wedding and it all happened so fast…” Yoongi gathered your head in one hand, pulling your face into his nape. He plants kisses on your head and fondly smiles against your hair. . . . .

The police decided to hold the man accountable. He was clearly changing lanes without signals, and he was also ignoring your obvious signals. Not only was he driving past the speed limit at a roundabout in broad daylight, he had the audacity to shift the blames towards you. The dash cam was proof that he was a reckless driver so he had his driving license suspended and he had to pay for damages you faced. Yoongi laced his fingers into the gaps of yours as he turned around from the man. Yoongi smiled smugly and took you out of the police station. With the reports done and you were acquitted from any traffic misconduct, the car insurance company will cater to all the repairing. Yoongi will have to drive you everywhere for now but it wasn’t something he minds doing.

You let go of his hand and proceed to walk to the car, hugging yourself while he watches you from behind. Your steps weren’t hurried, rather they were a bit slow but for some reason you thought it was far better to not hold him. In your head, you are still scolding yourself and knowing you as far as he did, he understood it. He climbs into the car, avoiding eye contact as his index finger sunk into the engine button. You were dazed, looking out the window at everything on the outside. Noticing this, Yoongi stops by your favorite mall. He said he wanted to get some tools and appliances for the sink at home. Every three months, Yoongi would have the sink maintained by pouring cleaning liquid and have it stay there overnight so it won’t clog anytime soon. Usually, when this happens, he would buy dinners outside and take you out for breakfast the next morning.

Both of you once experienced the sink clogging before, and the whole kitchen was flooded with foul-smelling liquid. To make matters worse, Yoongi was away for business in Tokyo, and you had to handle them alone. Some plumbers walked in to help, and even if Yoongi was grateful for their help, he would rather his house be under his maintenance. That's why he keeps a schedule for every heavy duty appliance in the house. This is to avoid unnecessary over spending and inviting unnecessary people inside the house. He has a yearly check for the washing machine, the refrigerator, the electric stove, the air-conditioners and the oven. He is always making sure that everything is safe for you to use.

With the car parked so swiftly, Yoongi joins you in the mall's lobby. There aren’t many people around since it’s weekdays. And as if you remembered that you needed a conversation, you jerked your head up and to the side, at your husband.

“Oh right! You have a class today?” “Sent them home early with an assignment to mark later…”

He pauses, momentarily. Lifting his left wrist for the time, he yanked his sleeve up. He then, out of a sudden let out a sigh,

“Should we have dinner here or…” his voice drawls, “I plan to start on the sink right away when we get home…” “That sounds great, I don’t feel like cooking…”

You lifted your eyes at the elevator door opening before you. Yoongi lets you step in first. You move to the back of the elevator at the corner, by habit and Yoongi joins you. He could see from your face that the accident hadn’t left your mind. So when the elevator arrived at the second floor, instead of the fourth where the hardware stores were, he took your hand and walked out. You didn’t question him right away but you thought it was odd.

“Ice-cream…” he beamed at you.

He ordered your favorite. Waffles, drizzled with chocolate syrup and some fruits. Then you talked about Jungkook’s wedding gifts and plans on that day. He asked you about the venues since you were the one that booked them. You excitedly say that it was in great shape. The venue was a garden, it has this magnificent backdrop of a man-made lake and Jungkook’s fiancé loved the idea of exchanging vows at the view. However, your smile swept away when you spoke about the wedding dress.

“Why?” Yoongi spoke softly. “Because she seemed conflicted to follow what her friends’ recommended instead of what she truly wanted. She texted me yesterday, saying that she hated her wedding dress,” your shoulders dropped. “Why did she hate them?” “Her friends basically forced her to get this dress from a designer they know. From what I heard he was pretty famous, but she originally wanted her old classmate to make one for her. So now she regrets it, because the dress was not her style,” you sighed yet again.

Yoongi looked at you through his bangs and a small smile formed in the corner of his lips. Always taking in other peoples’ problems as your own, always thinking of others and always solving other people’s problems like your own. Yoongi could feel how devastated you were to hear that story first hand, and he is certain, as you were scooping those waffles into your mouth, you are thinking of ways to fix it. Typical. When you make a folded taco, you would take the ugliest one so he could have the prettier sets. When you buy medical supplies, you always make two purchases, one for him. The bigger portion of cake is for him, the larger piece, the better half. Even when you ate something you think is tasty, you would buy one for him at home.

In one ways or another, you are constantly thinking of him. It gives him butterflies. How lucky was he to be able to find you. How can someone look past such a genuinely beautiful person. Inside and out. Whose love is this true and this devoted. Only a dire fool, that is.

From the ways you love him, he is most certain that you haven't changed any part of you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “I bought you something… I saw this at the bookstore, it's a moon and star water globe and I thought it would look good on your studio desk…” You rummaged your bag for the item while your husband sat there, staring at you with a fond smile. Literally, a woman’s bag is a wonder. There’s all kinds of things in there. Receipts from 5 years ago, set of cutleries for travelling, hand sanitizer, tissues, a notepad, a glue gun and candies. Coins.

He picks the old receipts up between his index finger and middle finger.

“Why do you keep these things?” he chuckles. You looked over at him and snatched them.

“Are you worried that a cop may come and ask you, where were you, four years ago at 2:53 pm so you can whip out that receipt from your back and be like, ‘I was at the Hunts Restaurant sir, I had a bento and tea. I have receipts to prove it?’ For your alibi?”

“I might…” you dashed. Half of your head disappeared into the bag, still looking for the globe.

Yoongi picks up Band-Aids, some unopened menstrual pads and coupons from your favorite pizza place that expired four months ago.

“Honestly…” he comments.

“Aha!” You exclaimed, “The globe…”

The globe, like its name, has moon and stars on it. His nimble fingers examined it, closely. You were so expectant of what he’ll say.

“It’s pretty…” he said. “Isn’t it…” you gushed.

You return them into your bag because Yoongi don’t have one. Once again, you reminded him to put them on his table later on. He assures you he will, he even kept it in the car’s dashboard, so that when he returns to the office, he’ll make sure to take it with him. On the ride back home, you fell asleep. He made sure that he went over the bumps on the road gently, making his turns like a grandma on the wheel. He parked the car and waited. Fishing out his phone and he took pictures of you sleeping. He scrolls down messages from work, check on items he bought online, read a few emails...

Then you inhaled sharply, awake. Stretching your fingers.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you mewled sleepily. “Based on experience, you take 10-15 minutes to wake up when the car stops... “ he nonchalantly passed. You smiled at his bluntness. He endured 10-15 minutes of silence with his sleeping wife despite the turmoil he went through today. You couldn’t have married a better man. Even if there was a better man out there, if it isn’t Yoongi, you don’t want him.

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said he wants to work on the sink immediately. You held the torch while he examined the sink. He wants to change the tap and clean the drainage hole. While he was struggling under the counter, you can’t help thinking that you were so fortunate. From how he handles things, to how he comforted you in times of need, to how he is made of husband material, you are certain, that God made this one, especially for you.

When he rolled out from underneath the sink, he caught you daydreaming. And he threw a sheepish smile at you. His thin white shirt is now drenched with spots of sweats on his chest and along his back. And he snarkily say,

“Wanna shower?”

You bit your lips at his remarks, playing coy at his forwardness. When in all honesty, you were down for it. And all the showers you will have in the future. . . .

Deep in you, knees dug into the mattress, between your thighs. His veiny arms gripping hard on the bed sheet. The sounds of heavy paintings, squelching cascaded in the room. He hovers sloppy kisses along your jaws like he was possessed and he said in his husky voice,

“That guy Namjoon… don’t feel right…” “I’ve been meaning to…” hisses in the delectable pain, “Talk about him…”

You propped your elbows up, leaning against it, brushing sweaty skin with Yoongi, you spoke is rasps,

“He said some strange things, so I am going to… delete him.”

Yoongi bit his smile, his porcelain skin glistening with the sweat that drenched him. His hand glides down your torso, with touches so hungry and starved kisses. He drew out a long deep moan, dove his face into your neck, chanted your name like a mantra--like a man standing on the verge of sanity, licking on the taste of infinity. .

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