#bc i haven’t CAUGHT ANYTHING IN NEARLY A YEAR

[bibleofficial]

not me going ‘yes !’ bc i’m relieved that i got gonorrhea again last MAY bc that means i’m STILL eligible for the monkey pox vaccine let’s GOOOOO

[wildemaven]

don’t drink the punch | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 3382

-> content warning: 18+ blog; insecurities, jealousy, holiday party antics, mentions of food and alcohol, office gossip, smut (unprotected p in v, fingering, orgasms), there’s no mention of it but reader is on BC, Dave is divorced from Carol, Soft and Sweet Dave, let’s say this is AU and no murdering is happening (or that at least reader is not aware of), reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress with heels and lingerie, otherwise zero descriptive features for reader, I think that’s everything but let me know if I missed anything

-> notes: more soft Dave because he’s been rotting my brain and making me weak lately. This could be the same universe as Caught Kissing Santa, but also can be read as a stand alone piece too.

-> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“I would enjoy these holiday parties a little more if the drinks being served had some actual bite to them. Then I wouldn’t have to give another forced Thank You to my Secret Santa for another gift I’m just going to re-gift to an unsuspecting family member. Did I mention how much I hate these parties?” Cathy shares among the small group of you and a few others, tucked in the corner of this year's CIA Holiday Party. 

You laugh into your fluted glass of sparkling apple juice. Mainly because she’s right. These parties tend to be a little boring, as do most office holiday parties. Lacking any sort of decorum that would indicate there’s an actual party taking place. The lobby has far more holiday cheer than this conference room at the moment. 

Red streamers taped to the wall above the food table and green plastic table runners haphazardly draped over random surfaces help add some festive color to the drab atmosphere. But the tiny plastic tree with misshapen branches bent in different directions placed in the middle of the long table in the center of the room, really ties everything together. Due to budget cuts, there wasn’t much of an allowance for new decorations, according to Cathy. Thankfully, you had convinced Dave to keep leftovers decorations from last year’s party in the supply closet

Once gifts were exchanged, the party felt like it was dragging on longer than it should. Your feeting aching in the too high heels you always decide on, snacking on nearly stale bread and cold artichoke dip, most of the other items already picked over. You patiently wait for the moment everyone else decides it’s time to call it a night and meet up at a local bar to continue the celebration, all while you make your way home to enjoy the rest of the evening with order in pizza and comfy clothes. 

The majority of the party you spend talking with a few friends to pass the time. Catching up on random office gossip, the latest romance rumors that have all departments engrossed in every detail and any other dramatic news that you haven’t heard about. All topics are enough to keep you entertained for the time being. 

“Maybe if York wasn’t so tightly wound and put some actual effort into these things, they would be easier to enjoy.” Sheryl adds to the conversation. “Between us, I might have brought a small flask of vodka to add to the fruit punch— should make things a little more interesting.”

“I’m sure his hands are tied, so you can’t really fault him for not allowing the hard stuff. Plus, are you even allowed to drink on site?” You decide to give your opinion. While you do see where they’re coming from, you can’t really hold it against Dave for not wanting to deal with everyone liquored up. And you’re more than certain there’s a zero tolerance policy for alcohol anywhere in the building, clearly Dave is just following the rules. You’re more than fine enjoying several glasses of the fizzy juice, noting to steer clear of the punch bowl. 

“By the way— did you see the new tie York got? I’m shocked she made him put it on as soon as he opened it— a little awkward to do in front of everyone. I will say, it looks good though, doesn’t it?” Cathy points to where Dave and one of his much younger Agents are still talking on the other side of the room. 

You watch as he holds up the ends of the tie, as if they’re both discussing the color and material of it. He must have said something funny, because she’s laughing now. You no one notices the way you subtly roll your eyes when her hand reaches out to him, holding the side of his forearm as she talks. She must be telling him how hard it was to shop for him, but she just knew he’d love the tie. And how she spent hours searching for the right color— it's black.

She’s cute, whatever her name is. One of the newer recruits you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. She looks to be in her mid to late twenties. A young, confident woman whom you’re definitely not jealous of with all the attention Dave is giving her right now. She’s a good 10 years younger than you if you had to guess. She’s attractive too. Dave seems somewhat oblivious to her slightly flirtatious behavior. Being the nice guy that he is and giving her his undivided attention— makes sense. 

“Don’t you think it looks good?” You realize you’re being asked a question about said tie he’s wearing. 

“Yeah. It looks really good on him.” That’s a lie. It does look good, but you kind of hate that she gave it to him, given how flirty she's being towards him. It’s not anything you would have ever picked for a Secret Santa gift, especially for Dave. The premise of the gift exchange was supposed to be fun, silly gifts. She should have opted for a coffee mug that says, Tears of my Employees, but that’s just your opinion. “Such a great color, too.” That part is the truth, it is a great color on him. 

“Speaking of looking good— that dress on you is killer!” Sheryl shifts the compliments in your direction, catching you off guard and has you feeling slightly embarrassed at the attention. 

“Oh! This? It’s just something I picked up earlier this week. I feel a little overdressed though.” You say all demure like, looking down at the way the black material drapes over your body. The dress feels a bit much compared to everyone else’s business suit attire. The high cut of the slit and the low straight neckline with straps holding it onto your body have you sticking out more than you would like. 

“I’m sure Dave has told you plenty how beautiful you look in it.” Sheryl says confidently. 

“Umm—  no he hasn’t mentioned it. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him much today, actually.” You say meekly, looking back over in the direction of where Dave is. 

When you go to sneak a glance at him, he’s already looking at you, not caring what the cute younger Agent is saying in that moment. His attention fully focused on you. He gives you a wink, raising his half-empty glass— cheers to you from across the room. You mirror the gesture back to him, pairing it with a genuine smile now painted on your face. He turns his attention back to the younger cute Agent, both of them now joined by a pair of Agents from analytics. 

“Well, the night is still young. I’m sure he’ll be giving you all the praise soon enough.” Cathy says, pouring some red punch into her glass.

“Sure.” You smile politely at Cathy and Sheryl. “Umm, if you’ll both excuse me. I need to go use the ladies room.” Deciding you need a minute to yourself. Ditching your glass at the end of the long conference table, you make your way out of the room down the hall. Seeking out a few minutes of quiet to let your mind clear before heading back into the lackluster party. You catch Dave’s profile as you walk by the glass wall of the conference room, paying no mind to anyone outside the little holiday bubble he’s in. 

The echoing of your heels clicking against the tiled floor is the only sound you hear as the bathroom door shuts behind you. You debate whether or not you should give your feet a break from being stuck  in such a high arched position for so long, deciding against it at the thought of walking nearly barefoot in a bathroom. Placing your purse on the porcelain countertop, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Adjusting the straps on your shoulders, then sliding your hands down the front of your body. Admiring and reminding yourself how good you do look in this dress, it’s the main reason you decide to wear it tonight. 

You’re not even sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with. You groan out loud into the unoccupied space for how you were comparing yourself to another woman— a woman you don’t even know. She doesn’t deserve that. Sometimes your insecurities creep in, clouding your mind with lies and false narratives you’ve conjured up. You brush it off. Grabbing your purse, you apologize mentally to yourself as you make your way back out into the hallway. As well as to the young woman who had also been on the receiving end of your near downward spiral. You’ll introduce yourself properly when you get back to the room. 

Someone must have found a speaker. A vibrant Christmas song, you can just barely make out, is coming from the conference room. Most likely another one of Sheryl’s attempts to liven up the crowd. You’d given anything to see the look on Dave’s face right now— he has the worst poker face when he’s annoyed. 

You’re halfway back to the party when you get distracted. An open door to an empty office has you intrigued. The plaque next to the door reads Dave York - Deputy Director NCS. Your fingers tracing over the carved out letters engraved on to the gold metal. 

Laughter pours out of the party filled room at the end of the hall. Your fingers pausing over the last letter of Dave’s name. Glancing back over your shoulder, double checking that you are alone. Shadowy figures are still milling about on the other side of the glass wall. The party far more alive than when you left it. The addition of music was just what it needed. 

You decide you’re in no rush to head back. The open door to Dave’s office practically welcoming you in. 

Wall to wall shelves behind Dave’s desk have some sort of lighting that adds a soft ambient glow to the otherwise dark room. The rest of the walls are adorned with college degrees and various certificates, years and years of hard work and dedication.

You toss your purse to the leather chair that is off to the side as you make your way to the large desk. It’s made of some dark slab of wood, the sleek angles and metal hardware gives it an elaborate modern look. The desk is cool to the touch, your fingertips following the grain of the wood, as you take in the details of Dave’s space. 

There’s a gold frame that catches your eye, twinkling under the dim lighting. You grab it from where it sits next to another photo of Dave’s daughters, Molly and Alice. 

You’re instantly drawn to Dave in the photo. The sheer happiness that’s evident in the smile he’s wearing. A smile that he doesn’t wear often at work or for many outside of it. His dark locks brushed off of his face, in a dressed up polished manner. Face cleanly shaven, allowing his dimple to be on full display. There’s also a brightness in his eyes. You admire the way the photographer was able to capture such a beautiful candid moment. 

“That’s my favorite picture” You turn to see Dave standing in the doorway of his office. Suit jacket discarded somewhere. His hands in his pants pockets. Head tilted ever so slightly as he slowly scans up your body until his eyes meet yours. 

“Hmm… You have to say that, it’s your wedding photo.” You say as a matter of fact. Turning back to his desk, you glance at the framed photo one last time. You finger brushing over the portion of the picture where his handsome face is. 

You’re too focused on the happy couple staring back at you, missing the barely audible sound of his shoes drifting over the carpeted floor as he slides up behind you. You nearly gasp at the sensation of his body pressed up against you, butterflies erupting in your stomach. His touch is captivating, evoking a sense of want, desire blooming immediately. 

Your body doesn’t shy away from the way his hands settle on your hips. Welcoming the way his lips move over your skin, a gentle trail of kisses that lead upwards from the round of shoulder to the small space below your ear. Your stomach tightens. Goosebumps erupting all over. 

“It’s our wedding photo.” A gentle squeeze of your hips as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. He plucks the frame from your grip, setting it back in its designated spot on his desk. 

“Are you trying to seduce me in your place of work, Mr. York?” A playful smile forms on your lips as you turn to face him, rucking the skirt of your dress over your hips as you sit on the edge of the desk, the silky material pooling around your waist. 

The insecurities you had been feeling earlier in the night, long gone, forgotten under his intense gaze. Your hands lay flat over his documents and files as you lean back into a more seductive position, careful to not disturb their tidiness. 

“Fuck, Baby. Looks like you’re the one doing the seducing, Mrs. York?” The new black lace panties and garter set you picked up this week on display for him. His hands glide over the black stockings that stop mid-thigh, his fingers slipping under the garter strap, continuing their upward movement, as he steps into the space between your legs. 

“Is it working?” You purr, knowing full well it is based on the grip he has on the apex of your thighs. A small yelp escapes your throat as he slides your lower half closer to the edge so your flush against him— not missing how hard he is under his black slacks. You carefully allow yourself to lay back fully over the desktop. 

Your hands catch the end of his new tie. Pulling at it tautly, bringing him down so he’s maneuvering his body over yours. One hand resting next to your head as the other guides one of your legs over his hip, encouraging you to wrap them around him. 

“I just got all of these papers in order. Hours of reading and organizing. They’re going to be a mess now.” Dave’s voice is honeyed, holding zero malice in his words. 

“I’m sure you can have one of your cute little Agents clean them up for you.” You tease, which only encourages his own seductive movements. Your eyes flutter shut at the way he ruts himself hard against your aching mound. Open mouth kisses delivered across your cleavage.

“Are you jealous, Mrs. York?” You can feel the way his lips perk into a smile on the top of your breast when he asks. 

“I-I was. She’s very pretty. But I know who you’re going home with at the end of the night.” Your fingers card through his soft locks at the base of his neck, your head tilted back as he soft nips at your jaw. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Julie finds you more attractive than she does me. She asked several times who the breathtaking woman in the black dress was.” That was a twist you hadn’t expected. 

“Oh! Did you let her down easily?” Dave’s wandering lips are halted by your question. He pulls back, eyes filled with reverence as he looks down at you. The air between you is charged with an unwavering love for each other. His hand gently cups the side of your face, thumb slowly tracing over your bottom lip. 

“I told her how you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. How you make my life better. And that I don’t know what I did to deserve such a beautiful woman like you.” He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a wonderful father to his two girls and an incredible husband—  falling in love with him was one of the easiest things you’ve ever done. 

“Dave—“ Tears prick at your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, let me take you home so I can unwrap you properly.” He tries to lift himself off of you, but you have other plans— more exciting plans. 

Grabbing his face and pulling him back to you, your lips connect with his. Tongues melting into a fiery kiss. No further words needed, as your body does a fine job of conveying exactly what you need from him and you’re grateful he catches on quickly.

His hand slips under the lace material of your panties. Seeking out your pleasure as he alternates between soft deliberate circles over your throbbing clit and working you up with two fingers inside your warm cunt, hitting that delicious spot over and over again, causing you to bite back an explicit moan as you silently tip over the edge. 

Rushed movements blur into the next. Working together to free his hard cock from his boxers and pants. Forgoing the effort it takes to remove your elaborate straps and lace, pulling your underwear to the side is all that’s required before Dave is slowly sinking into you. 

Shared breaths and discreet whimpers fill Dave’s office. Nails biting into exposed skin with each heady thrust Dave delivers. Papers shuffling beneath you as your body tenses, arching into his. Dave senses you’re close, your vise-like grip has him nearing his own release. 

“Dave! —fuckfuckfuck—  Baby, I- I’m going to come!” You're breathless, trying your best to keep your voice low, not wanting to be heard by anyone. 

“I’m right there —shit!— with you, Sweetheart.” 

Your lips connect with Dave’s again as your orgasm surges through you, swallowing each other's moans and triggering Dave to spill inside of you. 

The room is nearly quiet again as Dave’s forehead rests on your chest. His skin is warm against yours.  Your lungs work effectively to help regulate your breathing to a normal state. 

A kiss placed over your heart, then to your lips before he’s slipping out of you. Dave adjusts your underwear back in place as you still lay boneless on his desk, body a tingling mess is bliss. 

“That was a first for us. Surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.” He smiles down at you as he tucks himself back into his boxers, tucking his dress shirt and refastening his slacks. 

“Hmmm— I’m not opposed to it happening more often— make sure to pencil me in.” You hum softly at him. You reach out for his hand to help you off the desk. His hands instantly catching you and your grip onto his shoulders, your legs a little wobbly when your heels hit the ground. 

Your dress adjusted, Dave’s tie situated, compliments exchanged —You look gorgeous in this dress, This tie was a nice choice, she did a great job picking it out— sweat patted down with a tissue— a valiant attempt to look less conspicuous as you both head back to the party hand in hand. 

You both decide to stay a longer, indulge in a little more of the festivities, you suggest ordering some pizza for everyone. Dave agrees and mentions also needing to call Carol at some point to tell the girls goodnight.  

“You think they will notice we were missing?” Dave asks, his arm wrapping your waist and pulling into his side as you both stop at the door to the conference room. The space is still filled with boisterous laughter as music continues to keep the energy flowing. 

“I doubt it. They’re probably too busy discussing how boring your parties are.” You smirk at him. 

“Boring? Who’s saying they’re boring?” His head whips over to you. You can already see him mentally running through names, his signature scowl now visible, looking back at his fellow agents. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to stress about until the next one. I’m going to go introduce myself to Julie. I’ll see you in a bit.” You kiss his cheek and make your way back inside. You take a few steps before stopping and turning back to him, your dress skirt billowing out around your legs. “Dave, don’t drink the punch.”

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say. 

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[nininikki]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 | eren jaeger x black fem!reader

I. delightful little laughs and golf excursions

✧ summary! — upon meeting one another, you and governor eren jaeger struggle to deal with the onslaught of mutual attraction that inevitably follows.

✧ warnings! — mentions and consumptions of alcohol, adultery (eren is an aspiring cheater), golfing (🏌🏽), an arranged-ish marriage, age gap—reader is 29 and eren is 40, smut—handjob, heavy petting, making out.

✧ author’s note! — this part is the first of what is hopefully many. updates will be sporadic but hopefully still very entertaining. & i already know what you’re thinking, eren can’t be potus bc he’s german blah blah yeah well eren can’t do much of anything bc he died so let’s just be delulu together. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

✧ word count! — 4.7k

14 MAY, SIX MONTHS AFTER THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

the wings of a baby red bird whispered clumsily through the brisk noon air. without thinking, almost reflexively, you blew the bird a bout of kisses. good luck, you’d thought to yourself, hoping to quell the sick feeling curling in your stomach. though, it was only lunch with mikasa, so how much luck would you need?

a secret service agent escorted you to your table, where mikasa was already sitting. her lips, stained with crimson, stretched into a smile so wide her face could’ve cramped. “(y/n), i’m so glad you could make it!”

mikasa stood and enveloped you in a hug, the flowery scent of her perfume nearly making you vomit where you stood. “oh, don’t even mention it. the pleasure was mine.” pulling away from her embrace, you smiled to ebb the sick feeling. “besides, it’s been forever since we had lunch. y’know, with the election and all.”

“well, yes, being the first lady is quite the job.” mikasa…almost giggled. a childish, giddy, schoolgirl giggle that felt out of place coming from her thirty-nine year old mouth. that coupled with the way the diamonds in her glimmering wedding band caught the sunlight and nearly blinded you when she pushed a short lock of hair away from her face. if only she knew how greatly she tormented you without even knowing it.

swallowing the saliva that had pooled at the sides of your tongue, you smile again. “i can only imagine.” and god, if you hadn’t spent a considerable amount of time doing just that.

the moment you both slid back into your seats, a waiter made his way across the lawn and next to your table, a bottle of wine in his hands and ready to be poured into your respective glasses.

“no wine for me, actually.” mikasa said to the waiter, despite keeping her gaze trained on you the entire time. “a sparkling water will do.”

and when he turned to you, “i’ll have what she’s having—the sparkling water. and can you add a lemon slice?”

“of course, ma’am. it’ll be right out.”

“not drinking, huh? that’s…new. i like it.” mikasa joked just as soon as the waiter was out of earshot.

you let the words fall gracefully, naturally off your tongue. not rehearsed or practiced at all. “don’t get your hopes up. i’m trying out the whole method acting thing. fuckin’ sucks, i tell you.”

the waiter was back, setting two glasses of sparkling water on the table. “well, if anyone can do it, it’s you.” you both raised your glasses in a silent toast before taking the first few sips.

it definitely quelled the nausea you were feeling, so you drank and drank and drank until you looked down at the cup and saw there was only ice and dripping condensation left to show for it. “sorry. i haven’t eaten, i guess.” you explained, humiliatingly breathless.

“trust me, i know the feeling. can you get her a refill?” mikasa requested, and the waiter quickly obeyed, taking your glass and heading off again.

for a moment, there was only the sound of leaves whistling through the wind, an occasional singsong of birds, and the fizzing of mikasa’s drink across from you. until she cleared her throat, a loud ahem slicing through the false sense of tranquility you’d trapped yourself in.

“let’s not beat around the bush, (y/n). you know and i know that i didn’t just invite you here for nothing. so let me just be straight with you.” it was all happening too quickly for you. all the words coming from her mouth, all the feelings you were supposed to be feeling—all delayed to make way for numbness more painful than anything. because you knew what she was about to say. it was just a matter of whether or not you could control what would happen after she did. “i know you’re fucking my husband, and i want you to stop.”

***

7 JULY, FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION

look a man straight in the eye when you shake his hand. your mother had always told you that, but you’d never understood the importance of it. up until now.

until you were shaking hands with the governor of california and trying not to crumble under the intensity of his gaze. a gaze so fervent and piercing it was en route to perforating whatever it was that shielded your soul.

“lovely to meet you.” his voice was syrup. soft and smooth and saccharine and dripping into your ears with every word he spoke. “you’re even more beautiful in person.”

so are you, you wanted to say. and it was true. he’d been at the forefront of every news channel and magazine for the past year or so. and up there, he was all pretty eyes and luscious hair and ivy league-educated words. up close…up close, he was different.

as your gaze slid down the thick, almost shiny locks of his hair, you felt your hand—the one currently in the snug grasp of his shake—twitch with the urge to reach out and touch it. to slide the pad of your thumb down a strand, or perhaps thread all of your fingers through the dark mass of waves and revel in that sensation alone.

could he feel the pulse in your wrist begin to pick up speed when you let your eyes roll over the prominent bridge of his nose? or the full, pillowy curves of his lips? of course, you couldn’t stare there for too long. or you’d run the risk of wanting to kiss him, and god only knows what that could lead to.

and did he notice the skin of your palms become sticky with sweat when you finally let yourself look into his eyes? they were a haze of blue-green darkness. hypnotic, oceanic irises growing thinner and thinner as they stretched around the steadily dilating expanse of inky black that were his pupils, making for a sight that—for lack of a better phrase, and because you could actually feel your airways being blocked with unadulterated awe—took your breath away.

if anyone was more beautiful in person, it couldn’t not be him. however, you’d bitten your tongue, settling for, “you’re too sweet, mr. governor.” your voice, a soft peal of laughter that you assured only indicated the utmost professionalism.

“un-unh.” he released your hand from his grip, and you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of goose flesh spreading over your arms when his palms settled over the skin there. “it’s eren. call me eren.” you sure as hell weren’t prepared for him to embrace you in a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.

you laughed a delightful little laugh. one that surely couldn’t be conveyed as anything but amiable. “only if you call me (y/n).”

“well, (y/n), my wife and i are big fans of your work.”

at the mention of your friend, you took your guilty eyes off him, and let yourself be flung back into reality. back to the party you were currently attending, with its nearly blinding beams of camera flash, sweet drips of champagne spilling past your lips, and wispy tendrils of smoke curling through the air.

the party where you’d originally come to just look pretty and stuff your face with hors d'œuvres, but were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder and a face all too familiar and smiling to be any perfect stranger.

mikasa ackerman—the laidback teacher’s assistant you’d sparked a friendship with your entire senior year at harvard. the girl you considered a very close friend and mentor from the week you met up until the day you graduated, soon after which the two of you lost all contact. but you hadn’t sweated it. you were too busy pursuing your acting career, she was too busy becoming a lawyer. and the governor’s wife, apparently.

“god, i haven’t seen you in ages.” her cheeks were tinted in a cheery blush, mouth turned up in a lopsided grin, an empty champagne flute balanced clumsily between her fingers. “well, not in person at least.” her wide, megawatt smile was the last thing you saw before she hugged you as if you had never stopped being friends. “but you’re in all those big movies, y’know. it’s like every time i turn on the TV, there you are.”

you blinked bashfully down at your feet, a gentle smile playing at your lips. “don’t make me blush.”

“oh, nonsense.” she rocked back and forth on her feet, running her fingers through her dark pixie cut. “y’know, my husband never believes me when i say we used to know each other.”

“when’d you get married?” your mouth picked up in a delighted smile, recalling distant, collegiate memories of mikasa wanting, ‘partnership and a powerful husband, in that order.’

she stood on her tiptoes, beckoning someone over with a fervent wave of her arm. “uh, close to four years ago, maybe. don’t quote me, though. i’ve had one or two.” what you weren’t expecting was for the governor of california to stroll over, a little tipsy and equally disoriented from the crowd he’d just emerged from, his gaze alight with something you couldn’t quite place when it landed on the two of you. mikasa interlocked your arms, her voice an ecstatic slur. “see, baby! i told you i knew her!”

***

you’d stumbled into your home that night with remnants of the party still stuck to your skin and an invite to lunch at the jaeger’s country club the following week.

***

14 JULY

“i always knew you were bad at sports, but golf? really?” mikasa chimed, her lips pulled apart in uncontrollable laughter as your golf ball swerved clumsily around the course.

when eren’s husky laugh floated into your ears, you could feel them toasting with embarrassment and shame. because your eyes had taken to feasting themselves upon him at the most inappropriate times.

because just as you were about to swing your club, there your eyes were, trailing over his towering figure. his hair, usually parted and coiffed to perfection, sat a little messier today, perfectly curtaining the gently chiseled edges of his face. his bottom lip, plush and pink, confined between busy teeth, making for a sight that sent a blush down your neck.

all that went without mentioning the sleeves of his oxford tee—rolled neatly up at the elbows and showcasing the perfect definition of his forearm as he leaned over on the handle of his golf club.

you swiped your tongue across your bottom lip in misplaced concentration. the expensive watch glinting around his wrist sending your lips up in a tiny smirk. because he was just your type. so handsome and so kind and so…

a tangible rope of guilt strung itself around your neck as your eyes traced over the gold wedding band on his finger. a symbol of perpetual love and unity that you were practically defacing as you continued to drool over him in the presence of his wife.

so, when it was time for you to swing your club, you’d spooled yourself in a web of distraction and ended up missing horribly.

“must be the wind.” you said, hoping that the bursts of laughter that followed would be enough to distract you from the guilt.

***

“here, let me help you.” eren offered, purely out of the kindness of his heart. not because of the way you stood there, the golf club perched sweetly in your grip with not a clue in the world how to use it. not because of how pretty you looked today—the delightful hem of your opaque-shaded skirt coming to a halt in the middle of your thighs and contrasting perfectly with the smooth darkness of your black top.

not because of the smile stretching across your face—so beautiful, pearly, and white that it nearly took one of his eyes out. not because of his budding attraction that had sprouted the moment you caught his notice on a silver screen and had only gotten worse when he’d laid eyes on you in the flesh. and certainly not because mikasa, his wife, for god’s sake, had stepped back inside for one reason or another—to powder her nose or something—and inadvertently granted him a moment alone with you for the very first time.

“listen, mr. governor—”

“—eren.”

“eren. listen. i may not golf every weekend like you weirdos,” you joked, and he couldn’t help the grin gracing his face. “but i know my way around a club, alright.”

“yeah, sure looked like it.”

you went silent for a moment, tongue clicking around in your mouth while your gaze wandered elsewhere. “fine.” you sighed out, faux exaggerating an eye roll and pout. “show me the reins, or whatever.”

***

that was how you had gotten here. the callused palms of governor eren jaeger pressed up against the backs of your hands under the guise of helping you swing a golf club. except there was no guise, and the feeling of having his hands on yours again had your mind nestled in delusion.

“okay, now, hit it.” he said, the words lowered an octave and trickling with honey as he uttered them into your ear. “aht, aht. remember,” his grip grew a bit tighter on your hands just as you were about to swing. “softly, just like i said. don’t think you’re advanced enough to do it any other way.” a teasing lilt colored his tone.

“i think you’re just holding me back, governor.” at that, you stole your eyes away from the union of your hands and blinked them shyly in his direction.

“eren, please.” if he was saying please, his eyes certainly didn’t convey it. “or i’ll have to start calling you esteemed actress, (y/n) (l/n).”

“you think i’m esteemed? don’t flatter me.”

“you don’t wanna know what i think about you.”

delighted heaps of air passed through your nose and mouth a couple times before you realized you were giggling. giggling like a blushing virgin on her first date over a few simple words. what was he doing to you?

your teeth dug deep into your bottom lip. “are you implying something, eren?”

eren neglected to answer, only staring at you whilst smoothing the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “now, on my count, you’re gonna putt it, alright.”

“mhm,” you hummed, forcing yourself to look back down at the ball.

“one, two,” you kept your eye strained on the ball. despite the heady scent of his cologne burning through your nostrils more prominently than ever. despite the very foreign, yet also very very welcome, feeling of his hands on you. “three.”

on his count, you putted the ball just as he’d instructed. was it an exaggeration to say you could feel your pupils dilating? reducing your irises to mere rings of color as they followed the movements of the ball?

it rolled into its intended hole with a satisfactory thunk, and you could feel eren shoot you an i told you so gaze so prominent it felt as though it had grown legs and crawled over your back.

you pursed your lacquered lips. “i could’ve done that in my sleep. just distracted, that’s all.”

as the words left your mouth, you became acutely aware of the distance—or lack thereof—between you and this very married man. sucking a sobering breath through your nose, you detangled your hands from his with as little awkwardness to spare as possible.

***

“what the hell are you doing in my house?”

peeling your boots off, you padded into the conversation pit where your manager was sitting. chowing down at a subway sandwich with hardly enough time to breathe between bites.

“i’m your manager.” they said, voice muffled with bread and meat and sauce. “what kinda manager would i be if i didn’t make arbitrary visits?”

“the kind that respects my privacy.” you made a seat for yourself beside them, examining the bag to see what they’d gotten you. “and besides, these visits are never arbitrary. you’ve always got a reason.” meaty, cheesy delight filled your nostrils as you pulled your sandwich from the bag. they had delivered your favorite, and that was enough to hear them out. even if… “usually a bad one.”

“i guess i do.” hange sighed, shaking the ice around in their cup of mountain dew. “so, i’m assuming you know why i’m here.”

chewing like a woman starved, you shook your head. “i’ve got no idea. been on my best behavior.”

“oh, really? well, allow me.” hange gingerly wiped their fingers of sandwich remnants and pulled something from their nearby briefcase.

a magazine. one that had your face on it, which wasn’t anything foreign. although for whatever reason your face was on it must’ve been what had hange in this frenzy.

the headline read, HOLLYWOOD HARLOT MOVES ON TO POLITICIANS accompanied by a photo snapped of you and eren meeting for the first time. locked in what page six would probably call, a steamy gaze. although, what other way was there to describe it? if you hadn’t known any better, you looked like a pair of star crossed lovers separated by war. or something.

“eren jaeger? him? him?” hange’s face was more angry than disappointed, which was good enough in its own right. “out of all the politicians, you sleep with the married one who’s running for president?”

you steadfastly defended, “i didn’t sleep with anybody.” although what you actually did wasn’t much better.

“look at this, (y/n)!” hange jabbed a finger at the image before pushing deep breaths through their nose. “he’s looking at you like he’s never seen a woman before.”

you denied, taking a sip of their mountain dew. “he was starstruck, hange.”

“that’s not what they think.” per usual, hange didn't waste a breath dismissing you. “they think you’ve moved on from sleeping with movie producers to politicians. which is really, really bad.”

“yeah, i’m aware, but still. it’s not true.”

“these people don’t know this. don’t care, either.” hange threw the magazine hazardlessly over your coffee table, pushing their glasses over their hairline. a usual indication of their utmost seriousness. “look, with a little threatening—”

“—threatening?”

“yeah. slander, defamation, whatever charges i could think of. not the point. i got them to scrap the story.”

your head fell atop their shoulder in unimaginable relief, arms releasing tension you didn’t even know was there. “thank—”

“—but, i don’t always know how well that’ll work, so please.”

“please?”

hange took your hands in a vice grip, probably hoping to squeeze some sense into them. “stop making politicians fall in love with you.”

***

21 JULY

did you have him under a spell? there was no way to exactly prove that. but eren exhibited all the signs of a man charmed. yes, charmed. there wasn’t a more perfect way to put it than that. you had charmed him. with your dazzling laugh and your perfect hair and all those funny things you said that made him completely forgo the fact he was running for the highest office in the land.

every day following your little golf excursion, you had made dutiful work at setting up shop in the confines of his head. occupying his every passing thought with the sound of your laugh, embedding his psyche with the memory of your hands in his, rendering him completely oblivious to the wedding band on his finger with just a twinkle of your eye.

no, that last part was on him and him alone.

now, he’d be the first to admit that his marriage to mikasa was a strange one. her parents knew his, and when he met her, he could already kind of tell he was going to marry her. and not in the phony, sappy, hallmark greeting card way, no.

but in the way that meant he was thirty-three, still unmarried, and could see this as his parents’ way of throwing a bride at him. the idea wasn’t all that unappealing. mikasa was beautiful, smart, and quick-witted, and eren could see himself falling in love with her. hell, parts of him had. the little naive ones, but still.

but the little spark was gone. y’know the one that ignited in his belly whenever she kissed him on the cheek? or took his hand in hers? or whispered sweet nothings in his ear? it was gone. he guessed that was a side effect of marrying someone you didn’t really like all that much.

they eventually managed to become two people that lived together and occasionally had sex. some of which was pretty good, all of it in an attempt to get mikasa pregnant at some point later in the year. only five presidents had been childless throughout their term, and eren was unlikely to be the sixth. but he couldn’t speak too soon. his approval ratings told a different story.

still, regardless of whether he loved mikasa or not, eren had a respectable amount of resolve. he wouldn’t step out on his wife because a twenty-something-year old looked at him with eyes that were bespeckled with midas’ touch. no matter how beautiful or funny she was.

so, why was he standing here? here being the middle of his bedroom, staring into his eighty inch TV screen as if it contained the cure for cancer or something.

“do you like it when i touch you here?”

oh. that was why. he’d mindlessly turned on the television as he toweled himself off, not even noticing one of your films had been playing until his ears caught the familiar tone of your laugh. given the recent state of his mind, (and how frequently you occupied it) even a simple laugh was enough to have his neck snapping in the direction of the screen. but it wasn’t any simple laugh.

it was nearly identical to the way you’d laughed during your golfing stint the other way. identical in its coquettish cadence. identical in the way it spilled easily out of your lips.

“mmm, yeah.”

except you weren’t playing golf with the man on screen. you were letting him slide his palm up the expanse of your inner thigh until the skirt of your dress began to crumple and bunch around your upper legs.

you were spreading your legs around the movements of his hand and parting your lips so he could slip his tongue into your mouth. you were pulling him forward by the meat of his biceps, and at the same time, he was taking you into his lap and sliding the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

the camera then cut to a single shot of your face, crumpled with unbridled, purely pornographic pleasure. it wasn’t long before eren found himself enraptured with the sight: your lacquered lips parted to make way for an outpouring of contented sighs. the translucent and nearly invisible pearl of sweat beading at your hairline. the unfocused picture of your hands carding through your companion’s hair.

one could nearly call it a vision.

nearly.

because the next scene was of you again. face sated with contentedness as you stumbled through the throes of slumber, some sort of dream premiering beneath the lids of your eyes.

that was the real vision. a fact eren and his slowly hardening cock could get attested to.

then, mikasa was walking into the room. she glanced at the TV. “isn’t she amazing in this?” she asked, a happy tone accompanying her smile.

“i haven’t really seen it.” eren admitted. he actually had seen a number of your films (three to be exact), but you did have quite a few of them. that wasn’t even including the new one set to premiere in just a couple of weeks. at that thought, eren considered the possibility of calling and congratulating you. an option that was as outlandish as it was stupid.

call you. so he could do…what, exactly? make a fool of himself just for the sake of hearing your voice? though, he wouldn’t consider himself too above that. he had unabashedly flirted with you with his wife less than a mile away. not to mention the erection dimpling the meat of his inner thigh.

and what was more? he was running for president! he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. the days of newborn love and hopeful courting were long behind him and if he planned on being elected, surely it should stay that way.

mikasa slid into bed, her lithe body sheathed in the creamy silk of a nightgown and stretching under the cover of the sheets. “well, you should. it’s some of her best work.”

you’re telling me.

***

eren had ventured back into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. as well as rinse the horniness from his system via splashes of brisk water, an attempt so futile he couldn’t help but scoff at himself.

“we should call her.” mikasa suggested upon eren’s return to their bedroom. “y’know, congratulate her on the movie. maybe have her over for dinner after the primary.”

but eren could tell by the spectacles sitting gingerly over mikasa’s nose and the tell-tale scrawling of her pen in her planner that it was no longer a suggestion. the plan had seeded itself within her mind, and therefore bloomed to fruition in reality. “i’ll have floch set it up, yeah?”

“‘m all for it, honey.” eren murmured, stamping her temple with a kiss as he slid into bed next to her.

***

it was only a few moments later when mikasa set aside her planner and glasses.

“i know how stressful it’s been.” the cold and soft palms of her hands found themselves on eren’s neck, scaling down the planes of his clothed chest and just whispering at the hem of his pants. “with the election and all.”

eren slid a tentative hand around her wrist, head shrouded in rapidly blooming feelings of guilt. “mikasa, what’re you doin’?”

“just wanna help.” she breached past the soft flannel, fingers threading through the soft mount of curls at his base. “will you let me do that, honey?”

mikasa’s fingertips kissed the skin of his inner thigh, and the strangled moan that bubbled from eren’s throat seemed to be affirmative enough for her.

she wrapped her digits around him, breathing out, “see, you’re already so hard. just let me…” a delighted exhale tunneled through her nostrils, eyes brimming with contented triumph as she dealt him that first stroke. “let me make you feel good.”

it had only been a short while when eren let his eyes flutter to a close, and an even shorter while when you began to blanket every thought in his head. he really had no business thinking of you. in fact, that was probably the last thing he needed to do. but god, how he wanted you.

how he wanted you here, sitting above him and handling him just the way he needed. he distantly recalled the way your hands looked the other day—soft and small and barren of any jewelry. how they felt in his hands and how they’d feel around his dick. a hiss whistled through his teeth and the grip he had on mikasa’s hand spasmed.

“tell me how good it feels.” mikasa cooed, taking her other hand and swiftly maneuvering that same grip over to her breast. and eren wasted no time letting the doughy flesh spill between his fingers, feeling her nipple harden beneath the pad of his thumb as hazily kneaded it.

eren just had to screw his eyes a little shut tighter, and it was you. laying above him, holding him in your hands, whispering all those sweet nothings in his ear as you brought him closer and closer to his peak.

and, oh, was he close. so close that all he had to do was think of the way your mouth formed around your laugh, or how good it felt to touch your hands, or the way your lips formed around the words, “mr. governor.”

sparks bursted behind his eyes as he came. shaky breaths wracking his chest and uncharacteristic noises flying from his lips as he rode out his high. all while holding back the urge to call out your name.

while still trying to feasibly pump breaths through his lungs, mikasa took him in a messy kiss. so messy that it would’ve bordered on lazy if she hadn’t mounted herself atop his dampened lap almost immediately after.

“c’mon, honey.” an ecstatic grin broke across her face as she pulled her tank top over her head. “i think tonight may be the night.”

© NININIKKI. do not translate, copy, or modify my works in any way shape or form.

[marshmallowprotection]

Hello ! This is pukey Saeyoung anon.

I’m comin off anon bc honestly that shit is too much work. Pretty sure being sick this long has fried any last sense of inhibition or shame in my brain and I think everyone deserves to know how much I love Saeyoung smh. The extent to which that is my Mans. I will publicly gush if I so please. 😤😤

Plus! I’m pleased to report that I haven’t actually thrown up in about two weeks! So like. Hashtag recovery life I guess. 💀

But that’s what I came here to update you about. :’D

I feel like I kinda left you with a cliffhanger there with the whole bone cancer thing. (If it makes you feel any better, the hospital did too 👁👄👁)

November was very much,,, a terrible horrible no good very bad type of month. I spent nearly two weeks waiting for them to get back to me about my dumb bone marrow autopsy only for them to cancel my appointment last minute. And in the meantime I was just getting sicker and sicker… I ended up in and out of the hospital again a couple times,, but by the third time I was scared to go back bc the second time I went they didn’t even admit me overnight. They basically just charged me $700 to take a four hour nap. And cha boy doesn’t have that kinda money. 😭

But it got to the point that I really physically couldn’t take it anymore… I have never been in so much pain and discomfort in my entire life. Which unfortunately with the life I’ve had,, that’s a high ass bar lmao.

And it was just CONSTANT… I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t look at any screens. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stand. I was literally too weak to even pull a blanket up over myself. I literally was spending every night sobbing/shivering/barfing myself to sleep. It was baaaaaaad.

Luckily my roommate at this point had probably started to get annoyed by hearing me crying from pain all night and was like “dude I’m taking you to the hospital again”

And my third hospital visit !! They FINALLY gave me an answer as to wtf is going on!

Good news is…? Not bone cancer. I don’t have to enter my Deadpool era Quite yet.

Bad news…? Apparently I’ve got fuckin Lupus 🤡

Which is super cute and fun because,, you know. Incurable lifelong chronic illness. I’m literally gonna be dealing with this shit for the rest of my life. :)

But like. It’s a perfectly livable disease. As long as it’s, you know. Actually being taken care of and treated. Which I now have enough info to actually do haha.

(Hit the self-loathing so hard that even my own fuckin immune system was like, oh shit we gotta take this bitch DOWN 💀)

I’m soooo glad to be home and back from the hospital… but it’s been very strange too. I’m still really sick and I can’t really do much on my own and,,, my brain physically doesn’t know how to process being like,, taken care of. Honestly it kinda sets off alarm bells in my brain 😳 but I’ve had to accept pretty damn quickly that,, I don’t really have a choice rn. I’m so used to just being on my own pushing through all my pain and just. Waiting till it goes away on its own. But if I do that in this case… the pain will just get worse and my body will quite literally shut down on me and I will literally die. Sooooo like,,,, 🤡 I guess maybe I can stand to be taken care of for at least a little while.

Doc says with all the damage that’s been done to my organs and stuff this past year, they caught it early enough that the damage is reversible. But I need to undergo a really strict recovery treatment,, and they estimate it’ll be at least 18 months before I’m able to get back to my ~normal healthy baseline~. Which is insane… like am I really gonna be out here living like a sickly hermit for a damn year and a half?? I’m gonna keep feeling better, I know. And I’ll slowly be able to do more again. But I can’t go back to my job. It was causing me waaay too much physical and mental strain. :( so that’s gonna be fun to figure out.

They also put me on literally 12 new medications when I left the hospital to help control my symptoms. Each of which I have to take 1-3 times a day. So that’s super exciting. Love a big bowl of pills for breakfast every morning.

It was torture at first because I hate swallowing pills. But it’s been about a week and I’m honestly getting used to it already. And better yet? Even after only a week… they’re noticeably helping my symptoms… and I’m actually starting to be able to do things again… I *almost* feel like, 60% of a normal human person again,,, maybe even 65%! I’m slowly starting to regain my appetite finally… and I can do little things again… like play the new Pokémon game, or watch anime, or draw, or call a friend on the phone. Which… god what a relief 😭 words cannot describe how good it feels to be able to do those things again… frankly,, it was traumatic having to spend the last few months watching my body physically deteriorate in real time… so now that I’m starting to feel like myself again, if only a little. I’m like. Hey?? I actually love myself so much???? I think I’m a pretty cool fun interesting person. Thank GOD I’m making a comeback 😭😭

Saeyoung of course has been a great source of comfort for me throughout all of this… he always is one of my biggest sources of comfort in life… literally even just imagining him being in the same room as me is enough to put me more at ease…

When things were at their worst a big part of how I dealt with shit was vividly daydreaming about making up silly stories with Saeyoung to distract me. This is something I’ve done for years when I’m too upset or stressed to sleep,,, it’s been a reliable source of comfort for me for a hot minute. But it’s never gotten to this extent haha.

We have a whole ass story going,, I’m actually starting to get pretty attached to the story and the characters… which is stupid AF because it’s literally just. Me and Saeyoung Choi as fantasy self-inserts wherein he’s a court jester and I’m a knight and we’re going on a quest to ~find a cure for my mysterious illness~

But a part of me is like 🥺🤔 what if I actually wrote the story tho? Lmaoooo

Amongst other coping mechanisms and distractions,,, I’ve also been falling HARD into my online shopping addiction. But also, idk, can you blame me…? I’m a material gowrl at heart and I haven’t been able to go shopping in person for months 😔😔 I need little treats to get me through the day.

Mostly I’ve been spending an UNGODLY amount of money on plushies. Like… idk if I could count them and I don’t even wanna THINK about the prices fhdhdjd-

Mostly Pokémon and Sanrio characters. But a few other random critters as well.

And tbh?? I don’t regret a single purchase. They’ve literally all helped me feel more comfortable and joyful these past couple months, which I’ve really needed. So, even if my bed is starting to look RIDICULOUS from sheer volume of plushies…. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’m living my best life

A few days ago I got a giant charmander plushy… and like. Ordinarily I’m not even the biggest fan of charmander (shut UP ABOUT CHARIZARD GAMEFREAK. IM OVER IT. GEN 1 IS POPULAR WE GET IT)

But I swear to god this young man is changing my life. It may be the softest squishiest most huggable plush I’ve ever encountered. I’ve been carrying him almost everywhere,,, starting to feel like the “ahh yes. Me, my partner, and their life sized mareep plushy” meme for real 💀💀

((How do you think Saeyoung would feel about me turning our bed into a literal mountain of plushies? Or having to compete for attention with my charmander? Hehe. ))

THERES ONLY ONE MORE THING I WANTED TO SAY…

If you’re actually taking the time to read all of this,,, holy shit thank you. And thank you for providing lonely bitches like me this outlet c’: to be able to talk… and share comfort… and express our deep love for these characters without fear of judgement. It’s really just such a lovely blog and I can never thank you enough.

But the last topic I wanted to touch on!!!

Ugh,,, I read your answer to the ask about Saeyoung with an MC into pastel goth fashion and…

That made me so happy 😭😭❤️❤️

I love fashion,,, so much. Truly one of my greatest joys in life is getting into a really cool fun outfit and strutting around Knowing that I’m cool as fuck and I look like a sexy badass 😤😤 it’s simply the most powerful feeling.

Love when I’m wearing an outfit I know looks fire and I can’t stop smirking haha.

And I just,,, love being flamboyant and silly and having fun with it. I’m 100% the type of person to walk into a store and go “this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. The colors and patterns are such a mess they’re practically nauseating. I NEED IT.”

I have a collection of tacky button up shirts that could probably blind a man lmao. And JACKETS?? Don’t get me started on jackets. Boots,,, cargo pants,,, earrings,,, big colorful sunglasses. Ugh. <3

Since I’ve been so sick I haven’t been putting much effort into my appearance. My outfits were so joyless for a while… and then, well. I’ve spent the last month and a half wearing exclusively Pajamas and Hospital Gowns 😭

Considering that my main fashion inspirations ordinarily fall somewhere between Elton John, Lil nas x, and Jojo’s bizarre adventure…

Quite the glow down haha

I don’t think I realized fully how much I missed that until I read your ask…

You inspired me to go looking for some fun new clothes online. And now I’m feeling so excited and impatient for them to get here because I can’t remember the last time I got to put together a fun outfit… I actually wanna like,, get up and get dressed for the first time in so long c’: if only to waltz around my apartment a little bit and take a few selfies.

I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back to my FULL level of glamour,, my inflammation is still pretty bad so my face and body are kinda weird and swollen and lumpy right now 🥴 and again,,, standing and walking are still very much a challenge. Idk if I could wear heels right now haha I’m wobbly enough on my feet already.

But I can’t wait to get back into it…

Like you were saying in that ask too… another part of why I love fashion defs has to do with my gender expression… and I LOVE LOVE LOVE when people bring that up with Saeyoung 😭 it always makes me grin and fills me with so much adoration to think about Sae getting to have fun and experience that euphoria with clothing and fashion as well… and especially the thought of us getting to do it together….? c’:

Literally a concept that is SO important and special to me 😭❤️❤️

Idk what kinda wonky matching outfits we’d be putting together but I know that we would look so fuckin cool and hot 😤😤 and best of all we could have so much fun. Which… tbh, there’s nothing more I could ask for in life.

Plus of course,,, there’s always the added fun of self indulgently getting to imagine Saeyoung admiring and complimenting me on my fashion :’D and like,,, thinking I’m cool or whatever 😭

Anyways! Those are all the things I wanted to say.

If you’re still reading this,, //what’s wrong with you bahaha I’m such a rambly mess

But like. Thank you. And deadass if this is too long to read or respond to feel free to leave it in your inbox or just delete it.

Honestly it was just really nice to be able to type out all these thoughts just to sorta. Get it out and decompress, ya know…? c’:

I hope you have an absolutely beautiful day.

While I am happy to hear that you have a better understanding of what's going on in your life, I'm sorry you're going through this transitional time when you discover that you have chronic illness. That has to be the most difficult time for a lot of people. You have to make a lot of adjustments and make changes that you may not be happy with to make sure that you're taken care of. I empathize and understand this because I deal with multiple chronic illnesses. If you ever need a safe space to vent about it, this is always a safe spot. Whether you want it to be posted or not, you can always scream into the inbox.

I hope you don't beat yourself up over the new limitations and changes that are coming into your life. It'll be hard for a little while to get used to everything. But it'll be okay. I can't promise that it'll be easy in the long run. This journey is a lot different for everybody. I think what helps when you feel lonely and isolated in that regard, is to find comfort in the things that make you happy and if that is this video game, then I'm glad that you have it. It's been there for me through all of my experiences so I'm also grateful for it.

I know what it feels like to be lonely and afraid. Having my blog like this... it’s a place where I’m able to help everyone’s dream. It’s simple, it’s small, but I know even the smallest response of “Yes, your favorite character would do this for you today!” means the world to someone on their worst day. I hope that you’re able to find some spoons to dress up and feel good very soon. It’s hard to find a good day sometimes, but you’ll have soon, I’ll cross my fingers for you.

Imagine that, I mean, imagine Saeyoung gushing over you because you found the energy to get up and show off your new outfit. There’s dazzling sparkles in his eyes as he looks at you. His hands are pressed to his mouth, and he looks like he’s going to keel over in delight. He’s absolutely enamored and in love with the sight of you. “You’re so handsome! I can’t take it! I’m in the presence of the best lover! I think I’m the luckiest boyfriend in the world!” Cue him pretending to faint before you ask him if he’s getting dressed, too.

That’s when he springs back up: “Wait, wait, wait, I’ve got the perfect dress that’ll match this. I’ll even let you pick my hair style for the day!”

[psychoticwillgraham]

long ass fucking emotional post about what it means to make it to my 28th bday under the read more

also making two bday playlists for myself: a funny one and an emotional one celebrating my journey so far. I know, 28 doesn’t seem like an important birthday, but for me? it’s everything. from something who planned to die on its 16th birthday to now, has been a hell of a journey. the vast majority of it has been heartbreaking, but through all the new trauma and old, I’ve become a much different person. i used to be a hermit basically, a high school dropout who wouldn’t talk to anyone irl and even barely online. then, the glee fandom (for all its evils) happened for me and I got to meet an Australian person irl, someone who flew all that way just to meet their weird little klaine mutual, at just 14.

then, I discovered cosplay and conventions, and in that process, the beginnings of my personal identity. I’d already been struggling with severe self harm and the realization that I was some kind of queer (initially a lesbian, then a trans man within the span of less than a year), and cons gave me a place that I could dress however I wanted, act how I wanted, even get lost in acting as the character im cosplaying. I didn’t have to be a girl, I could be a boy (which I did, and used the excuse of cosplay to get my mom to buy me my first binder, but after that she caught on), I could be everything, I could even be nothing. That was my outlet creatively which would eventually lead to my drag career once I turned 21, which was an impossible dream for 16 year old me since I thought I’d never make it to that age.

unfortunately, I met my major and longest abuser (for at least 9 years who continues to be in my life bc I can’t let go) at a con around this age (16). that would set off a 9 year period of sexual abuse, grooming, and rape, that I still struggle to recover from bc it was all I knew until I was 25/26. I’d never had a relationship with a man that wasn’t abusive in some way, and still haven’t. that’s a whole other post for another time when I can handle it better.

but over that period of time, I consumed all drag related media that I could and eventually responded to an open casting call for local drag performers, pretty much anyone who’d ever wanted to do it. most of them had already been part of established local ish drag families, except for me. I literally started from jack fucking shit and I was almost too scared to perform every time I did. I’d been in theatre, but I was always in the chorus and could never get the courage to actually be on stage in any kind of speaking role. but then fast forward to age 21, where I worked the grind for 5 years up the local drag hierarchy, even though I’m still being discounted on account of me being afab and a king, im more of the ‘underdog’ in ppl’s eyes. ppl love me and want more of me, but the current ones on charge just don’t. im still gonna work the grind until I get where I want to be.

but through drag, I found myself. i became an entirely different person. im miles more social than I’ve ever been, im light years more confident, and learning to assert myself. it was like a rebirth for me and I will defend this art form till my death.

i beat alcoholism, the thing that nearly killed me several times, most notably in 2019 when I was so far gone that they didn’t think even activated charcoal would work. thank god it did but if I’d had just one more glass of straight vodka or two more acetaminophen I’d be dead. and if I hadn’t told mom about what I did when I did, I would’ve also been dead. even five minutes later and I would’ve been dead. y’all I was legit about to be coded when they gave me the charcoal, and I did have a near death experience (i hovered above my body and saw the harsh hospital lights above me and they were extra bright, but I wasn’t being forced to go, I didn’t hear God or anything at all, i just hovered there for about 30 seconds and went back to my body) which I’ve suppressed the memory of until now.

I’ve come such a long way from that, and from my horrible childhood, and yes I was thrown off guard from grandma’s death, and I consider everything before that my old life, and everything since a second rebirth, like I have an entirely different life. it’s still haunting me every single day and it does whenever I go past her closed off room, and I still feel her very presence in this house and with me everywhere I go.

things have been immensely difficult, but I’ve survived, and yes I’ve come out a completely different person, and I’ve changed. but we all change through life and I was changed by my grandmother’s love for me and her presence from the very day I was born, and changed by her death. it’s been a change for the better, and she can rest easy knowing that I’ll never forget her or how fiercely she fought for me through my addiction when everyone including my psych team gave up on me and were about to just let me drink myself to death, but not her.

she let me lay on her floor every night and rant and talk about literally anything and everything, would share her saltine crackers and tootsie rolls with me so I’d have at least something to eat even if it was nothing substantial. she insisted that if I drank, I had to drink in her room so she could watch my every move since she was terrified of me dying alone in my room. if I passed out there (which I did most nights in the later stages of my addiction), she would do all she could to make me a bed out of blankets on the floor, even when she couldn’t walk anymore, so that I wouldn’t be sleeping on the hard, nasty carpet.

she gave me a place to just be, and I still think she’s the only reason I’m still alive.

because of grandma’s love, I’m still standing here today, a completely changed person, but at least I’m still alive.

i planned to die at 16, then 18, then 21, then 25, and then at 28. but I’m still here, against all odds, and I’m so grateful that I am.

here’s to the rest of my life, a very long life.

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

[jungxk]

just one (viii)

summary: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

notes: first of all i wanna thank the people who supported me and encouraged me through one of the worst writers blocks of my life. all the messages and comments are the reason why i finally managed to post this. special thanks to @whippedforkook for helping me with the monstrous tagging process as well as giving me so much praise. and also @lonelyending for cheering me on for a literal YEAR bc thats how long i cried over this fic! this story is so special to me. we’re in the home stretch now x

warnings: mentions of illegal drug use and distribution, swearing, brief smut.

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 8k

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part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x

x

4 years ago

x

jimin hated yugyeom.

well, maybe hate was a strong word. he just didn't like talking to him, being around him, hearing his name or interacting with him on any level, social or otherwise. he really tried though, since he was one of jungkook's closest friends and still respectfully referred to him as hyung above all else. and if anything, jimin would always have a soft spot for jungkook, the kid he used to coddle when his own brother wasn't around. but having said that, there wasn't really much basis for not liking yugyeom. it was just a gut feeling jimin couldn't explain, a very subtle callousness about him only jimin could pick up on. for the most part he was just like very other mild mannered boy by day and party animal by night, but jimin still ducks when he sees him enter the library.

"fuck," he hisses under his breath, scooping up his laptop to stride behind a book shelf for good measure. because sometimes, contrary to popular belief, jimin wanted to be alone. he didn't want to make small talk or listen to someone tell him about how well they scored on their last paper or complain about their annoying girlfriend. sometimes jimin wanted to have no thoughts and listen to fleetwood mac as per his human rights. which is why he shoves into the first private study room he sees.

and not an empty one at that. there's a girl inside, sitting cross-legged in her chair at a desk with an array of dried up paint tubes and brushes surrounding open sketchbooks. you don't look annoyed or even that phased, just amused as you give him a once over before going back to painting. "on the run from solji?"

jimin blinks, back still pressed against the door. "huh?" he regards you properly. "i'm sorry, have we met before?"

"not really," you admit with a sheepish smile, which is when jimin suddenly realises that you're...attractive. "solji is in my stats class. you hooked up with her last week at some party and she told me about it."

"oh," jimin takes in your plethora of art supplies. "you don't look like a stem student."

there's a glimmer of something in your eyes, and though you hide it well jimin knows he's struck a nerve. "yeah, i get that a lot."

"it's not solji by the way," jimin clarifies. for some reason. "that i'm hiding from. just a bellend i don't have the energy for right now."

you smile. "it's fine. you don't owe me your life story."

"i do when i'm about to impose on your...study time," jimin peers through the window in the door, wincing when yugyeom enters the hallway. "what would it take for you to let me stay in here for a while?"

you pause for a second. "honestly? just be quiet and leave me alone. is that okay?"

jimin perks up, a weight leaving his chest. "perfect, actually."

x

x

x

[jungkook 11:42pm]: why does it say wings on it

[jungkook 11:42pm] where is it flying

[you: 11:43pm] ffs kook

[you: 11:44pm] im still on the toilet can u just hurry up

[you 11:44pm] grab some tampons too pls

[jungkook 11:46pm] fine what size pussy do u wear

[you 11:46pm] i hate u

[jungkook 11:53pm] ???? ? ? well? ????

[you 11:54pm] REGULAR 

jungkook giggles at his phone, already having left the women's sanitary aisle to grab some chocolate. months later and teasing you was still bundles of fun. he knew for a fact that you were sat there with that angry pout on your face, nose crinkled. he had never bought anything like this before, but jungkook had enough brain cells to know that chocolate was another necessity for that time of the month. after grabbing a large hazelnut bar, he pauses beside the oreos before grabbing a packet of those too. just for good measure. he strides to the self checkout - because even he wasn't man enough for the cashier yet - nearly dropping his array of sanitary products and confectionary when somebody calls out his name from behind the queue.

"kook!" the voice is unmistakably yugyeom's, confirmed by the hand that clamps jungkook over the shoulder and swivels him round before he could think about hiding his socially compromising shopping items. it takes a second for yugyeom to notice, doing a double take at the pads atop his small tower of goods. he holds back a laugh, balancing a bottle of gin in one hand while he waves back at some friends to continue. they were clearly making their pit stop before a night out, probably pre's if they still start as late as jungkook remembers. with his hair styled and expensive cologne lingering, jungkook almost forgets he probably looks unrecognisable in his sweats and cotton-fresh hoodie. friday nights weren't for cuddling. still, yugyeom's smile is welcoming and familiar. "got the munchies? and maybe also a uterus?"

"shut up," jungkook grumbles, averting his eyes. he shifts to his other foot uncomfortably. "my friend just needed a favour, that's all."

"uh huh," yugyeom gives him a teasing look. "is this friend the reason why i barely saw you at jin's the other week?"

jungkook blinks back at him. "wait, you were at that party? i had no idea!" a boyish smile breaks over his face. "why didn't you call me? i haven't seen you since-"

"minseok-hyung's new years eve party," yugyeom throws his head back with a laugh. "remember how we ended up on a boat after the ball dropped and-"

"spent all of new years day detained by the coast guard!" jungkook finishes with a mischievous cackle of his own, nearly dropping the tampons in the process. "fuck, that was so much fun! we need to meet up again, i haven't been out with the guys in so long."

"well no wonder," he quips a brow at jungkook's shopping again. "word got out you're a family man but i didn't believe it. until now, that is."

jungkook's smile falls. "what do you mean?"

yugyeom looks at him for a second, confused by jungkook's surprise. yugyeom was never quite as diplomatic as namjoon or yoongi, to put it lightly. and definitely nowhere near as accomodating as jimin. which is why his next words make jungkook's back stiffen. "bro, look at yourself. you got dairy milk in one hand and tampax in the other. on a friday night. the next time i see you i wouldn't be shocked if you had a baby buggy and a mortgage." still, yugyeom throws him an apologetic look. like a mouse caught in a trap. "face it, kook. you're old news."

"what? that's not true," his brows furrow unhappily. "i don't know what you're talking about. it's not like she's my..."

he can't say the word, but it hangs between them like a dead weight.

"yeah, right," the condescending look on yugyeom's face was starting to agitate him. "you totally blanked us at jin's after she showed up. not even just jin's..." he thinks twice about holding his tongue, but as always, decides against it. "i don't know you, jungkook. whoever this new jungkook is. it's been months. you used to hit us up and be independent and spontaneous and wild and now you're just...someone's boyfriend.

"stop fucking saying that," jungkook snaps, all visible signs of friendliness gone.

"why?" a beat. "do you even use a wrap with her anymore?"

jungkook splutters, heat rushing to his ears and hands in a stinging combination of anger and embarrassment. "how is that any of your business? the fuck are you asking me something like that, as if you-"

"thought so," yugyeom looks away from him with a sigh. if anything, yugyeom knew never to overstay his welcome but that clearly backfired tonight. "whatever, jungkook," he looks over his shoulder at him. "guess you're the last one to find out you're officially married."

"you're ridiculous," jungkook scoffs. "all this over condoms? grow up, yugyeom."

"only couples do it raw," yugyeom turns away from him, alcohol in tow as he waves a hand over his shoulder to join his friends like jungkook was nothing but a lost cause. "you would remember that if you still had game."

jungkook stands there, dumbfounded while the group of boys exit the store noisily but he can't hear a thing. the siren that had been itching the back of his mind all this time was suddenly there at full force, right between his eyes. the glaring truth that yugyeom might be right makes his knees buckle. all those rules jungkook once had, all those measures he kept in place to protect his liberty, to prevent this very occurence - where were they? what happened to them? as the sweet and accommodating counterpart to jimin, why had you never complied? though, the blame wasn't on your hands alone. he got complacent, comfortable. lenient. and now without even realising he was here, a scene from a romcom in the middle of the night, with nothing to say for himself but fuck. the realisations wouldn't stop racing, one after another on the conveyer belt of his anxiety.

the photos on his phone; mostly you. time spent, usually with you. the portfolio for his latest photography module also had some resemblance to your interests. charcoal pencils, night drives, orchids. like the ones you always drew on any scrap of paper lying around. now that he thinks about it, he's seen nothing but your orchids for months. and not just that - you wore his clothes sometimes too. his bathroom had your toothbrush, contraceptive pills and coconut shampoo. his closest friends, his hyungs...not one of them was devoid of affection for you. he wasn't even confident that if the choice was presented, they would still pick him over you.

by the time jungkook finishes paying and practically sprints to his truck in a daze, he can hardly keep himself from shaking. he palms the wheel compulsively, he could feel the sweat in his sideburns, hoodie suddenly suffocating him. it smelled of you.

and then, like a final curtain call: was he just your latest fixer-upper project? some good girl wet dream to play out in the wake of your emotionally traumatic past? a slap in the face to seokjin, maybe, and nothing more? when you were done, when he was out of your system, when you knew his taste by heart and had nothing new left to try - would you stay? did you even know how to?

did he?

jungkook starts the engine. he drives to your door, drops your bag of snacks and pads on the porch, and texts you before leaving. he does not go inside.

x

x

x

"you sure you'll be okay with just the boys?"

you scoff at seulgi when she pins you with a worrying look, taking some of her clothes out of her bag to re-fold them just so you had something to do with your hands. jisoo had already left for the long weekend with her family, so there was no one there to fill up the empty space between your awakward reply. you didn't know how to tell the girls that jungkook hadn't contacted you in nearly a month. and even though he was a notable flight risk from the beginning, you couldn't help but feel like there was hostility there. every now and again he'd at least send a nude or have a quick phone call when he was drunk or high at three in the morning, but you hadn't heard a peep from him. you couldn't stand the idea of someone you cared about harbouring comtempt for you, but the fear of reaching out and somehow making the situation worse outweighed it tenfold. 

you look up to see seulgi still staring at you with concern. "of course i'll be fine! they're boys, not piranhas."

"at least piranhas contribute our ecosystem. boys just cause problems for the hell of it," seulgi lays a hand on the crown of your head like a berating big sister, swivelling you to look at her in your fit of giggles. the urge to nestle you under blankets like a baby bird made her chest heave, and you could tell. "i'm serious. if jimin tries anything, call me immediately okay?"

"jimin?" you snort. "out of a room full of delinquents, my ex, and taehyung, you're worried about jimin of all people?"

seulgi wrinkles her nose. "god, when you say it like that its like i'm throwing you to the dogs." she pauses. "something's up with jimin. i don't know what it is, but he's...off."

you tilt your head innocently, remembering the brief interaction you had with hobi at seokjin's party. you had been so caught up in jungkook - or lack thereof - you hadn't thought to press him about it afterwards. in truth, jimin remained as...jimin as ever. if he was acting differently you certainly couldn't tell. "you think so?"

"mmm," she leans on the lip of the open suitcase thoughtfully. "but maybe with jungkook there, he'll behave himself."

you gulp, fiddling with his watch on your wrist anxiously. "maybe."

x

x

x

you nearly yelp when you feel a big hand swivel around your waist, bucking into the kitchen counter reflexively. jungkook always did this before rubbing his boner against your ass, but the light scent of citrus and short squeeze lets you know immediately that its taehyung. hoseok, jimin, namjoon and yoongi were still in the living room playing video games, giving taehyung the perfect opening to intercept you. namjoon and yoongi had insisted that you come over to their place after finding out you'd be alone for the weekend, and you had completely refused before taehyung's coaxing. and of course, jimin's persuasive nudging. even though you felt safe and relaxed here, it felt wrong to be in jungkook's friends' place without him. almost like a breaching of an unspoken boundary.

and clearly, taehyung picked up on your discomfort by the way he stared at you so softly. his back was to the sink, his sillhouette particularly long and lean this evening. "you need to lighten up, princess. you keep looking over your shoulder so much it's making me nervous!"

your visibly droop with a sigh. "i'm sorry tae. i've had a lot on my mind lately, and..."

he claps his hands on your shoulders, teeth peeking through his grin. "you're not doing anything illegal by being here without jungkook."

you wince at his name. "have you always been able to read my mind like this?"

"absolutely," taehyung's brown eyes look so rich up close. "you're allowed to have friends that are also his friends, because - and try to stick with me on this - relationships between people are allowed to be independant from the primary circles they met in. mind boggling concept, i know."

you wack him on the chest until he laughs. "stop making fun of my anxious thought processes! its called mental illness, sherlock! i can't help it!"

his nose scrunches cutely, enjoying your first fiery outburst of the day. "whatever. i call it not getting laid for a month and losing critical thinking abilities from it."

you gape at him indignantly while taehyung roars with laughter. "you're such a dickhead," you hiss through gritted teeth, yanking his hair and jabbing your fingers in his sides the way you would with jimin during a tickle fight. "whores have feelings too, taehyung! whores have feelings too!"

you both fall about with laughter, knocking over half the snacks on the counter in the process which only makes the pair of you laugh even more. it's such childish chaos trying to clean up the mess on the tiny kitchen floor that neither of you notice the front door open, or the gust of metaphorical and literal wind that follows. watching taehyung trying to salvage a bag of broken crisps is just so funny that the presence of an another voice in the living room goes unregistered, as do the footsteps leading up the hallway to the kitchen, so you have no time to brace yourself or properly pull yourself together with you see-

"...jungkook."

yours and taehyung's heads snap to the doorway. jungkook stands there with almost complete lack of emotion on his face to the pair of you kneeling in crumbs and napkins. there's a brief pause where the tension in your eye contact alone was so strong that it felt wrong to breathe. but it is shortlived. jungkook tiptoes over you like spilled milk, reaching for a glass of water. you and taehyung lock eyes while the tap runs in the awkward silence. "hey. you okay?"

"um," you're not sure whether to stand up, hug him, look at him, or even face him. "yeah! yeah, i'm fine."

he nods politely. "hyung?"

even taehyung looks visibly uncomfortable. "i'm good."

"cool. see you later," he says, downing the glass impressively fast before leaving the room just as fast as he entered it.

you and taehyung stare at each other again, not understanding why you both feel like kids caught eating cake before dinner. you could feel the sweat pricking at your back from the realisation. jungkook had no idea you'd be here, and given that interaction he'd probably want to leave now. there was always the inkling woven between his radio silence that he was done with you, but you never let yourself take it seriously out of logic. because how could months of passion and tenderness and honesty be undone so irrevocably like that? it didn't make sense. you hadn't changed. you were the same girl he hit on relentlessly and chased against all odds. so what was different now?

"____," taehyung calls your name gently, and it's only then you realise you're already up and trailing after jungkook into the living room. when you walk in he's already putting his shoes on to leave again, barely making eye contact with you while he chats absently to his hyungs so he can look busy. the four boys on the large sofa can only reply wearily, eyes darting between the pair of you like a firework was about to blow to soon. and it was.

you could feel it in your throat, under your breast bone, bubbling up your stomach. "wait, jungkook. um...h-how have you been? i haven't heard from you in-"

"i've been good," he keeps tying and re-tying his laces without looking up. "super busy. you know how it is."

his curtness makes you flinch. this same time last month jungkook used to kiss you senseless before he had both feet in the door. he'd ring the doorbell incessantly like a child and greet you with the biggest, toothiest grin you had ever seen. he'd make fun of your bed head and squeeze your cheeks until you'd snap at him. and now when he looked at you he hated every second of it. your mother had the same look. your eyes start to burn involuntarily. "yeah, i do. how is uni? your final project is due soon, right? what theme did you pick in the end?"

"the one i told you about," he stands up abruptly. "sorry, noona. something came up. i'll see you arou-"

"something came up?" you step closer to him. "something came up the second you saw my face? or did you really just trek all the way to your hyungs' place for a glass of water, jungkook?"

jungkook stiffens, but is determined not to lose face. and it's difficult to do under your big, accusatory eyes and jimin's death stare at his back. the whole room was waiting for his response, so he just shoves his hands in his pockets resolutely. "i needed to see yoongi hyung, but i can come another time."

you fold your arms. "well it's clearly important, and you're here now. so don't let me stop you."

"but you will stop me," jungkook snaps. "that's the problem."

"kook-ah," yoongi warns quietly, but he took one look at your face and knew the damage was done. jimin was already standing up, circling around the back of the sofa towards you. the red lights were all there; your watery eyes, your trembling hands. every breath you took looked difficult for you to complete and only jimin noticed.

"what are you talking about?" you squint. it takes you a second to understand; yoongi's guilty expression, jungkook's indifference. "oh, you're fucking kidding me." your resolve breaks for a second turning away only to glare back at jungkook with so much fire you can hardly stand it. "you're selling again? are you insane, jungkook?"

"see," jungkook's eyes are stony. "i knew you'd get this way."

"what other way am i supposed to get?" his lack of response only infuriates you more. it felt disrespectful. "jungkook, you're not a kid anymore. if you get caught with drugs the consequences are serious! forget the potential jail time, you could get kicked out of university, it would go on your record forever and-"

"stop talking to me like i'm a kid!"

"then stop acting like one!" you hate raising your voice, but it keeps climbing without your approval. "did you think about this for even five minutes? this isn't like just going to juvie like before and being done with it jungkook. your hyungs can't bail you out of everything."

"this is a lot of talk for someone who lapped up those fancy paints without a second thought," jungkook says darkly. his eyes aren't like you remember, his face solemn and near unrecognisable. "or did you think that getting that kind of money overnight is only something that's possible through daddy's credit card?"

dread blooms like a garden inside you. "that's...that's how you bought the paint set?"

"welcome to the real world," he quips. "as if selling overpriced weed to a bunch of pick-me-freshmans is considered a crime against humanity to anyone but you."

"you think that's why i'm yelling at you right now?" your voice was growing hoarse, desperate. "you think that's the problem i have with you being literal drug dealer, jungkook?"

he hates it. the sweltering silence, the judgmental eyes digging into his back, the slow realisation that the tears in your eyes were not at him but for him. jungkook's ears ring enough to make him sway on the spot if his feet weren't planted so firmly on the dingy carpet, this metaphorical ground. he couldn't shake the feeling that his lifestyle was only an issue now because of you, how he never felt a shred of guilt about any of this shit until he met you. and if there was anything that jungkook never responded well to, it was pity. and he could feel it from every person in the room, all people that that once cherished and coddled him until you came along. he swallows, throat dry from the way he couldn't look at you knowing what he was going to say next.

"you're embarrassing yourself, noona. you're not my girlfriend and you never were, so stop acting like it."

cotton. it's very faint, under the layers of conflicting cologne and beer and smoke, but jungkook still smelled of cotton while he spat acid. nobody could speak, even though jungkook never raised his voice let alone a hand to you, it still hit like a slap in the face. it sunk into the walls, your clothes, suddenly every hair on your body felt heavy with it. dirty. the shame came first, the humiliation next. and then the sorrow, the dread, and finally the defeat. you knew the stages well by now, and they were cycling through you like clockwork. how foolish you were, to make the same mistake again. nobody dared to move, everyone but jungkook staring at you in denial and horror. they couldn't believe their eyes when you nod steadily, bowing your head to the floor.

jimin is already slotting himself between you, his jaw tight. "that's enough, kook. just leave already."

"no," you stop him, unnervingly resigned. that single word cuts through all six men with ease. "he's right." you step around jimin, closing the space between you and jungkook. for a brief moment he wonders if you'll actually hit him, but somehow watching you unclasp his watch from your wrist and drop it on the coffee table in front of him is far worse. the sound seems to ring like church bells, definitive and umistakable. "you're right, i'm not your girlfriend. you win jungkook."

they all watch you leave in dismay, listen to the door closing softly behind you. within a second jimin sprints after you, calling your name, leaving everyone else dumbfounded. jungkook's stare could bore a hole into the abandoned watch on the table, still ticking away like nothing changed. like his eyes weren't burning, lightheaded at the realisation that he would never wear a watch again let alone the one he put on you.

x

x

x

to an outsider, you looked like you were coping well considering you just got dumped in front of all your friends. but jimin knew that face. your stony eyes, lips pulled thin as if to seal inside the collapse of a monument. you took the tea he offered, and then his arms, your face finding his chest with ease. muscle memory. his torso was a tad shorter than jungkook's, his heart closer to your mouth as if the steady thumps were asking for a kiss of acknowledgement. every time you close your eyes you could see jungkooks face, hard and unforgiving and nothing like the man you trusted all this time. but it wasn't a new expression; you parents looked at you similarly the last time you saw them. it was the look of someone who had no regrets cutting all ties. and now, jungkook was behind them in a lost list of people who chose to be strangers over loving you.

jimin sighs when you cry into his chest, brushing the back of your head gently. he had been ready for this for months, but he still hated to see you this way. again. it made his bones itch, his skin crawl uncomfortably every time you weeped. the only time he considered violence was when you were crying. but he knew what to do, laying down across the sofa so you could curl up into a ball next him, head on his bicep and face smushed into the crook of his shoulder. you used to cry like this for hours and hours, his arm familiar with the prickle of pins and needles. but it was the only place you felt safe. tucked into jimin's side is where you would always belong, and that truth was more glaringly obvious than ever now.

"lets get something to eat," he offers eventually, hand craddling the crown of your head like a child. jimin's other hand on your hip is warm and heavy when he pats you soothingly. in your episodes, you responded well to touch. "what about thai food?"

"not hungry," you grumble against him.

"we could make something together?" he peers down at your lack of response. "come on, babe. you gotta eat something. you didn't even have breakfast-"

"why am i so stupid?" you whisper, a fresh bout of tears welling up.

jimin rubs your thigh. "it's not your fault."

"yes it is. jungkook gave me plenty of red flags, and i ignored all of them-"

"oh, i meant you being stupid."

you scoff. "cheers."

"what?" jimin cocks a brow when you lift your head to look up at him. he wets his lips and you follow the swipe of his tongue thoughtlessly, distracted enough by his touch and proximity that you take a second to digest his words. "it's not like any of this exactly came as a surprise. you ignored me, remember? wanted to flex your big girl pants."

you pull away from him and sit up, forcibly shutting out the daze that jimin routinely puts you under. "what's wrong with you? can't you be polite and wait for a couple hours before laying into me like a normal person? jesus, jimin."

"so let me get this straight," jimin sits up, watching your back as you sit away from him. "you're mad because i'm not telling you what you want to hear?"

"no," you say, head shaking. "i'm not mad. i'm upset because i came here to be comforted by my friend and you're just making me feel worse."

"what do you want me to say, ____? that i had high hopes from the start?" jimin pushes his hair back, brows now at a sharp incline from frustration. "i told you starting something with jungkook was trouble but you didn't listen. why should i feed your victim complex when all i've done is try to help you?"

"victim complex?" you repeat, standing up slowly. the sudden steadiness of your voice causes jimin to panic.

"not like that. don't take it like that, it's just," he's suddenly before you, his warm hands palming up your arms warmly. "i didn't wanna see you get like this and it happened anyway, is all i'm saying." he sighs when your scowl doesn't let up. "if hobi hyung hadn't have given up so easy, then maybe…maybe this would never have happened. maybe if i had been harsher with him then you would have-"

"what are you talking about?" you ask quietly, searching jimin's face. "give up so easy? what's that supposed to mean?"

he looks away, hands slipping off you. "it's nothing."

"jimin."

he struggles to look at you, tongue in cheek. his lips purse for a moment, pink like roses. he's wearing that navy jumper you like. "look, it's not a big deal. he wasn't supposed to fuck you or anything, just take you out for a while. get your mind off kookie, show you a nice time."

your blood runs cold. "what?"

jimin's expression softens. "it's not as bad as it sounds-"

"really?" your voice is sharp, sharper than he's ever heard it. you recoil as if you had been struck for the second time today. "because it sounds like you asked some guy to keep me occupied like i'm a fucking dog. all because you can't stand the idea of me being within a meter of jungkook-"

he steps in, but you step back. "you know that's not true, _."

"don't i?" you scoff, covering your face in disbelief. "jimin, you've been hellbent against me even looking at the guy since day fucking one."

"because i didn't want you to get hurt!" jimin counters, eyes downcast. "i know, okay? i know how much of a dick it makes me sound, but its not like it hurt you when you had no idea! hoseok broke it off before you even knew about it so why-"

"because it's worse," you turn away from him. "you tried to control me. choose what's best for me because you think you know better than i do. sound familiar?"

his jaw sets, and it's like you can hear the twine snap in his head, the percussion of his heartbeat above yours even though he doesn't close the space between you. jimin stares at you for a long minute before drawing in a thin breath. "fine," he steps in, and you can't look away. "you want me to say it? fine. i'll say it."

suddenly the air is lace thin around you as you stare at him, waiting. jimin looks off somewhere else, somewhere you can't reach. "don't tell me you haven't thought about it, because i know you have. if i have you must have too. and lately its all i can think about - being with you, holding you, being the one who gets to touch you. and yeah, maybe it took having to see you with jungkook for me to realise how much i want all that, i put my hands up. but you have no idea what's it like to watch the person you love most get toyed around with by a time bomb like that. i've seen jungkook go through girls like underwear and i love him, god i love him, but even the idea of you being one of those wasted girls sitting outside a party crying over his sorry ass makes my fucking ears ring."

"j-jimin…" you whisper, but you have nothing to say. your hands shake.

"you deserve more than that, ____. you deserve more than waiting around for booty calls or living up to what the next guy wants. from jungkook, hoseok, anyone. you deserve someone's devotion and yeah, maybe all this time i've been too much of a pussy to give it. maybe all this time i was tiptoeing around my feelings for you because i knew if i admitted to myself that i loved you - if i admitted i was just like every other guy - i'd actually set the bar for something other than disappointment. id actually have to step up, and i didn't know if i could do it. i still don't. but if it has to be someone…it should be me."

suddenly he's holding your hands, calming the tremble that rattles them. his words bunch up together in your ears, the meaning lost amidst your awe. "jimin….jimin what are you saying? where is all this coming from, i don't...i don't understand wh-"

"i'm saying," he cups your face. "choose me." he pulls you in. so, so close. "choose me, not jungkook. not anyone else. me."

and there's a part of you that has already caved. that's already kissing him, melting into his arms like you've wanted to for so, so long. you're falling back onto the couch with him in a fit of giggles, curling back into his chest to hide your watery eyes, asking him why the fuck he took so long. you chat together between teasing kisses, pour your hearts out, maybe cry a little. later you would make tea and order pad thai and watch the office all night and fall asleep together in the living room well past dawn and then-

you close your eyes. "i can't."

"you can," jimin says, so passionately you shudder. his brown eyes are teaming with too much determination and ardour for his own good, and you both know it. its difficult to grapple with how huge a risk he's taking, because jimin never takes risks. it made the whole situation seem dire. "you know you can, ____. it's us. there's no one like us."

you don't know how you're not crying yet. you only have jimin to hold onto, hands balled in his shirt without knowing if you're about to push him away or pull him in forever. "maybe back then. maybe if you'd have said all this before," you feel empty, the beat of your pulse suddenly strong in your fingertips. "but it doesn't matter anymore."

he shakes his head in denial, his determination palpable. "of course it does-"

"i'm in love with him," you say. to jimin. to yourself. to the world, finally. "i'm in love with jungkook." holding jimin's stare isn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. "you know if you'd have done all this a few months ago…if you'd have just...i was always yours without question, jimin. and you knew it." it's his turn to bristle under the strain of your voice. "jungkook isn't perfect. i'll be the first one to admit that. he's made me cry, he fucks up, he makes mistakes. but he's never lied to me. he never made decisions for me. he never passed judgement on what i should or shouldn't do with my life. something that i never thought i wouldn't able to say about you, too."

there's a brief moment where everything stops. neither of you can believe what you just said. jimin watches you, frozen in his place as you take your bag, eyes glittering with tears when he calls for you. suddenly he's the time bomb he feared becoming, the panic in his eyes lighting them up like fire crackers. for the first time in his life, he stumbles over his words, and then his feet when you reach for the door, all composure lost. he was unravelling like a tapestry in front of you, never to be repaired, and he could feel it. "____. ____, please," jimin chokes, his cheeks blotchy. "i wanted to protect you, i was just trying to help. don't go. please don't go. i was trying to help you."

"no. you were trying to have me." you say, closing the door behind you.

x

x

x

you have no idea what time it is when you hear the bell ring incessantly.

it had been hours since you'd returned home from jimin's, but there was no way for you to keep track when your only priority was just keeping yourself afloat. you turned your phone off, drew the curtains, and resolved to alternate between sitting in seulgi and jisoo's rooms until they came back. you didn't know what else to do. when you weren't crying you were hyperventilating, and when that stopped the absence of emotion was so powerful you could barely keep your eyes open. you were exhausted but could not sleep. starving but could not eat. it was a miracle you even made it down the stairs, using what little strength you had to yank it open without even thinking about who could be on the other side in the middle of the fucking night. but at this point, you would gladly take a serial killer over jimin or jungkook.

"taehyung," you breathe when you take in his face, relieved. you must look like absolute shit because he scans your face and winces. 

"jimin told me," he says, the apology in his voice and expression was almost painful to register. "he told me everything. ____, i'm so sorry. i should have told you about the hoseok thing, i just thought it would be worse coming from me, and then i tried to force jimin into confessing but then he didn't because he's jimin, and now-"

"you're only allowed to come inside if you stop apologising," you say weakly, voice haggered from the hours of crying.

taehyung's pouty expression almost makes you smile with how cute he looks, gingerly stepping over the threshhold. "i really am sorry though."

"for what," you say monotonously, closing the door behind him while he takes off his shoes. "my inexplicably terrible taste in men? my uncanny ability to get manipulated by literally anyone who shows me a scrap of affection? or my absolutey shredded-to-shit attachment style thats barely intact let alone functioning healthily? after hoppping between the first two for a few hours i'd personally go for the latter. but whatever."

"please shut up," taehyung sighs, bringing you into his arms before you could have a second thought about it. "you need to amp up the misandry in this context. a lot of this had nothing to do with you and everything to do jimin and jungkook."

you're too tired to open your eyes, snuggling into the softness of taehyung's chest. you’re too exhausted to argue. "where did you learn the word misandry? have you been reading?"

"yeah," you can hear his big, pleased grin. "i know you and the girls have been calling me a himbo behind my back."

"affectionately," you add, peering up at him. he wipes the wetness off your cheeks, moving upstairs to your room with your hand in his. he fetches you a glass of water before putting you into bed like he's paid to do it. taehyung was the cuddliest person you had ever met, but you had rarely seen him dote on anyone. "girls love himbos. it's a compliment."

"not all girls," he mutters when he returns from the bathroom with a glass of water. "drink this, would you? you look so dry it's making me itchy."

you do as he says with a roll of your eyes. "what do you mean?" you finish your water with a big gulp. "jisoo loves dumb guys, what are you talking about?"

taehyung looks away from you, bottom lip rolling up under his teeth so fast you barely catch it. he pulls up your desk chair next to your bed, thinking long and hard before meeting your eyes again. "i don't mean jisoo."

you don't understand at first, but after staring at his face for a long minute your stomach drops. "don't. don't you fucking dare," another beat of silence. you rip the covers off you to scamble to your knees, grab your pillow and hurl it at taehyung's head. "taehyung, please don't tell me that the one remaining, healthy relationship i have with a man has also been shot to shit because i swear to god i'm gonna-"

"it's not a big deal," he says firmly, and he really does mean it. taehyung catches your wrists when you lunge at him, effectively ending your outburst before it can begin. he keeps hold of them while he stares into your eyes, watching the way they fill up with a fresh bout of tears. "i've had a crush on you for a while, so what? it's not anyone's business but mine so don't worry about it."

you try not to scream at him. "how long?"

"...since the start." he shrugs. "it's not like i could have done anything anyway. with jimin around. he’d never have it."

"but...! but..." you splutter, the highlight reel of your friendship suddenly marred before your eyes. "but you let me talk to you about boys! you gave me advice with hobi and jimin and jungkook and...! you encouraged jimin to confess to me. and the whole thing with jisoo?"

he wets his lips guiltily. "jisoo is a nice girl. i like her, but...not like you. i've always liked you."

you shake your head in horror, your face crumpling. bile rose in your throat. "so all of that...playing with my friend like that. was just to get to me?"

"listen to me," taehyung says firmly, gripping your wrists to make you look at him again. he's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on yours, and you never realised how large taehyung's torso was compared to yours before. he could have smothered you, but he didn't. in all senses. "the way jimin and jungkook handled their feelings is on them, just like how this is on me. it doesn't matter if i'm fucking you or not, you're my friend and i'll always want people to do right by you. and that includes me."

there was nothing else to say, so taehyung wordlessly wipes your face again and fetches you more water before retreating to sleep on the couch downstairs. all the while you sat there in your bed, confused and bewildered and thoughtful. the same bed jungkook fucked you on. the same bed jimin held you in. out of all the men in your life, taehyung was the only one who treated his feelings for you with reverence. there wasn't one interaction you could think of where he made his feelings clear, where he even hinted towards wanting something more. if he hadn't have said anything tonight, in the wake of one of the most emotionally tumultuous days of your life, you would still be in the dark about it all. and that was the scariest part. you didn't know anyone else who hadn't let their feelings for you effect how they treated you. so ultimately, it was possible.

and jimin and jungkook chose not to do that. but taehyung did.

taehyung did.

when you finally pad downstairs after hours of ruminating, jisoo's bedroom door is wide open. and that's who you should be thinking about now - your friend and sister jisoo - as the sky begins to lighten with the signs of morning. you hadn't slept for over twenty four hours, you were hungry and thirsty, delirious from the whirlwind of losing the two most important men in your life in one day. but still, you are drawn to taehyung. taehyung, who never asked anything of you. taehyung, who was as silent as he was selfless this whole time. taehyung who routinely put what he wanted aside in favour of what was best for you. taehyung, who protected you without needing credit or recognition for it. taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung, taehyung-

"taehyung," you whisper scraping your nails through his hair. his eyes fluttered open, twisting his head to face you as you hovered above him. he could barely see you in the darkness. "taehyung, wake up."

"what is it?" he croaks, sitting up with half-lidded eyes and a yawn. he doesn't know how to read the expression on your face. he swings his legs off the sofa in a sitting position, wearing nothing but his boxers and tee, visibly alarmed. "what happened? are you okay?"

you take his face in your hands and kiss him. 

taehyung stiffens against you, breath drawn thin. you pull away to gauge his expression, desperately searching his eyes in the darkness. for discomfort, disapproval, anything negative at all. the absolute ardour you find instead could knock you down if taehyung didn't reach for your neck, kissing you again. you whine at the feel of his tongue, having no idea where such sudden and intense arousal was coming from. when you pull away with shaky limbs, you climb onto his thick thighs so he can feel your wetness through his boxers. taehyung grunts at the sensation, and again when you kiss him passionately and without abandon. the sweet girl every guy he knew was agonising over, suddenly in his lap. he's barely had his tongue down your throat for ten minutes and you're already rocking into him, his erection betraying his resolve.

it's better than he dreamed. 

"taehyung," you gasp, palming him now. he groans when he pulls away to look at your mouth, glistening with his saliva when you take his hand and guide it down to your arousal. "please."

[chaoticminhos]

maybe i do

--”even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.”

pairing: lee know x reader

genre: angst, fluff, a smut scene 

warnings: none

word count: 16.3k

a/n: arraigned marriage with minho was requested, as was breeding/pregnancy kink with him :) I didn’t make the pregnancy kink a big part bc the smut scene is small but i hope you like it anyway, anon!! I can always write a separate fic, too. there’s never too many minho fics <3

eighteen. that’s when you were expected to choose a partner. you’d just turned of age, and as an adult, you were now supposed to be getting ready to take the throne. with a partner, of course.

a very specific partner, specific to the point that all choice given to you to make you feel like you were in control meant absolutely nothing. 

you needed to find a man, first of all. a single man, one that wasn’t already set to be married. he had to have power, at least as much or more power than you had. he needed to have wealth. you needed to find yourself a handsome, wealthy prince from one of your neighboring kingdoms, and your parents had to like him. as much as your parents said you were in full control of choosing your suitor, you knew you were not the one making the calls. not a single one of them.

there was only one person who matched all of these criteria. there was only one boy you whose name would be on your list of potential suitors and your parents knew it just as well as you did.

you could try just simply not writing lee minhos name down, not selecting a husband at all, but it would be futile. eventually, if you hadn’t selected a worthy candidate to marry, one would be decided for you.

without a doubt, minho would be the one selected, whether you wrote it down or your parents signed his name for you.

you didn’t have anything against minho specifically. he was no more intolerable than any of the other royal children you’d met. if anything, he was actually easier to be around. it’s just that you were expected to be fond of him.

you were ordered by your parents to love him, and that in itself made you want to despise him.

along with your side of the selection, minho also had to choose you. if he didn’t, you would just have to wait until someone else came along. it wasn’t just you looking for a partner, he was in search as well. the difference was that he had been in search for nearly a year and he had willingly selected you.

minho wasn’t the first in line to be king of his home kingdom, his oldest brother was. he was already married and set to be crowned in the coming months. instead, if minho ever wanted to be a king, he needed to find a woman to marry who was set to become queen.

luckily for him, you were the oldest daughter in a family that had no sons.

as the eldest sibling in a family of no boys, you were in line to lead. but according to the rules, you couldn’t lead without a man to stand beside.

in all logic, minho had to choose you just as much as you needed to choose him. of course, if both of you resented each other, the wedding could be held off until you resolved the conflict. or even cancelled. you might be given a few more years of freedom before another man who fits your parents wants walks into their life or ages old enough to marry.

much to your dismay, however, minho did choose you. even before it was brought to his attention that he was your only option, that you would remain single for an unknown amount of time unless he married you, minho chose you. the second he noticed your name on the list of possible brides, which was much longer than your list of possible husbands, he had his mind set on you.

and after finding out that you had no one to choose but him, minho was sure he was going to get what he wanted.

you clenched your jaw and took your place at the table, glancing at the seat beside you that had been saved for minho.

“we want you two to get to know each other more before the wedding,” your mother said, “and he’s such a sweet boy.”

“i haven’t even chosen him as my fiancé yet, mom.”

she sent you an apologetic smile, both of you knew it didn’t matter what you chose.

you sat biting your lip and playing with the frills on your dress for quite some time before minho and his parents entered the room, escorted by four of the palace guards. 

he looked different than when you had last seen him. taller. it had only been a year or so, but you could clearly see changes. his jaw line was more defined and he had finally learned how to tie a tie so it wasn’t crooked. his eyes, though. even from across the room, you could see that his eyes were the same.

you smiled and sent a small wave towards one of the guards as they turned to leave. minho must have thought you were waving at him, and he waved back, a huge smile plastered on his pretty lips.

you were aware that he had already put your name down as his official choice of brides, practically robbing you of any chance you had of not being forced into marriage, and you knew he was probably equally aware that you had yet to write down his name, even though it was the only one you had. 

you held back a laugh at minho waving at you, not having the heart to tell him you were waving to felix and not him as he made his way around the table and to you. you let yourself smile though. no matter how much you wanted him to hate you as much as you hated the idea of marrying him, you couldn’t be downright rude. not when the parents were watching, at least.

you stood to greet him, sending your now-forced smile in his direction. you went to shake his hand, but instead, he pulled you into a tight hug. it was short, so short that you didn’t have the time to return the hug, not that you would have wanted to. 

you sat back down and looked up to greet his parents sitting across from the two of you on your big table. your own parents were sat on the ends of the table, your father to your left and mother to your right. neither your nor minhos siblings were present.

there was no time for conversation before the cook was bringing out the food. it was nothing fancy, per your request. he brought all of the food out at once, minus the desert, instead of in different courses. 

you half expected minho to say something about the way the meal was brought out in a way that wasn’t considered the most elegant, but he didn’t. instead, his eyes went wide as he spotted the roasted chicken set down in the middle of the table.

his mother observed his behavior and laughed, “y/n, how did you know minho’s favorite food? i don’t remember sending a letter containing his favorites.”

you frowned slightly, “i didn’t, i just chose my favorite.”

at your words, your mothers shared a glance, one that said, “they’re perfect for each other.”

your father was the next to speak, “minho, why don’t you cut the chicken for us.”

once again you anticipated some sort of reaction out of the boy. he had been asked to cut the chicken when there were waiters standing all around that could most likely do it much neater than he could. it was another thing you had specifically requested to happen in order to judge his reaction. but again, to your surprise, he smiled, stood up, and began to cut even strips off of it, passing them out around the table.

he turned to you, “how much do you want?”

you ignored the softness in his voice, one that you could see yourself growing fond of if you didn’t resent the idea of loving him so much already.

“i can get my own.”

he didn’t even flinch at your response, chuckling as he cut a piece off of the bird and guided it to your plate. you had to keep yourself from pouting as you looked down at it. he’d given you just as much as you wanted.

he was making it very difficult to keep a bitter attitude towards him when he was doing everything right. how were you supposed to convince your parents he would be a terrible husband when acted like the perfect one?

after serving himself, minho reclaimed his seat beside you. you served yourself to the rest of the food as it was passed around, handing the bowls to minho when you were finished. you took notice of the way he chose food. he took a little of everything, as if he wanted to taste all of the foods you had requested to be made for his visit. you asked him about it.

“trying everything, minho?”

you dropped his formality. you should have predicted that he would take it as a sign that you were comfortable with him rather than a petty disrespect in the way you’d meant.

he nodded, sending a soft smile towards you, “i assume your chose all your favorites, princess, so i want to try them all.”

you would have blushed if someone you were fond of said it, but you weren’t blushing. no, the heat in your face was just there because the room was warm from all of the bodies and hot food.

one of the waiters came around with a bottle of wine and some glasses, offering one to everyone at the table. of course, everyone accepted, it was impolite not to, but you couldn’t help but notice that minho didn’t touch his glass as often as the rest of you.

by the time you were smiling up at the waiter as he poured you a second glass, minho still had yet to finish even half of his first. 

you ate in casual conversation until all of you had your fill. the table was slowly cleared and the meals were replaced with a small array of sweets. 

minho nudged you, pointing at one of the trays.

“what’s this?”

you were caught off guard by his voice. it was soft, timid, almost like he was embarrassed that he didn’t know what the dessert was.

“pumpkin bars.”

he nodded, “are they your favorite?”

you shrugged, shaking your head, “kinda. they’re not my favorite to eat, but i love baking them.”

his eyes widened, “you made these?”

you shook your head again, a small laugh leaving your lips. as much as you tried to stay short and serious with him, you couldn’t.

“no, but i know how.”

he paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the table before he turned to you once more, “can you teach me?”

your brows furrowed, “to make pumpkin bars?”

he nodded.

never mind. you definitely could be short with him. 

what was he playing at? why was he behaving exactly in the way you’d want him to in every obstacle you threw at him? he couldn’t actually be that good. first, he wasn’t offset by the untraditionally casual meal or being asked to serve the main dish himself, and now he was showing interest in something you liked to do. something that was considered low level, something that a princess should never have to do. and now he was asking if you would show him how?

no, he had to be faking. any walls that had been broken down by his timid voice and him making you laugh were thrown back up.

“you don’t want to bake.”

it was his turn to frown.

he reached out to stop your arm as you went to grab a slice of pie.

“what do you mean? yes i do.”

you pulled your wrist from his grip, speaking lowly so only he would hear. 

“well i don’t want to teach you.”

you missed the expression that crossed his face as you reached across the table to grab the dessert you wanted.

he didn’t say anything more. he just reached for the pie spatula as you went to set it down. his fingers grazed yours as he took the tool from your hand and you were violently aware of it, of how his fingers against your skin seemed to send a shock through your body.

he set a piece on his plate and took a bite, glancing at you. you hadn’t even registered that you had been watching him until he did. 

“how is it?”

he nodded in approval, “it’s good. do you know how to make pies, too?”

“yes. i can make most every dessert our cooks can.”

he held your gaze as he smiled at you.

you frowned, averting your eyes from his and back to your plate, “what?”

“nothing.” he began, “i just think it’s interesting that you’re so into baking now. last time we spoke you were crazy about the gardens.”

you shrugged, “who says i can’t love both?”

there was a pause before, to your surprise, you kept the conversation going.

“do you still practice archery?”

he nodded, swallowing a bite of his pie before responding.

“i can out shoot almost all of our archers.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips, “who says they’re not letting you win?”

he playfully shoved you and you laughed.

“fine, then you go against me.”

you shook your head, “anyone could beat me in archery.”

he seemed to think for a moment before softly nudging you, “i could give you some tips?”

you almost found yourself accepting his offer before you caught yourself. you were not supposed to be enjoying his company.

“i don’t need your help. if i wanted to learn i would have one of my guards teach me.”

the way his expression fell made something in your chest ache and you hoped his parents hadn’t heard the remark. you felt bad for a moment, it wasn’t his fault that you were being forced to marry him.

then a thought crossed your mind- it kind of was.

he played by their rules and pretended to be excited to marry you, but that’s not what he wanted. he knew the perks that came along with marrying you. it wasn’t you he was excited for, it was the power and status that came along with marrying you. how could he be excited to marry you when he barely knew you? he couldn’t. all he wanted was to be king, and you gave him that option. he didn’t try to fight it. maybe if he fought it like you did, you wouldn’t be forced into it. or at least not so soon.

the fact that his cooperation was only securing your unwanted future was enough to wipe that sting from your chest.

you finished the rest of your dessert in silence, listening in on your parents conversations and trying not to scream at every mention of the upcoming wedding you didn’t want to have.

“has he picked out a ring yet?” 

“no,” his mother responded, “he wanted to get to know her better first. he wants it to be perfect.”

you finished your food and pushed the plate away from you, letting the waiters know they could collect it. all of the adults were already done eating. minho finished soon after, having taken longer as he savored every bite. this left the table without food and full of conversation. 

minho only spoke again when your mother addressed him.

“is there a specific type of flower you want at the ceremony?”

he spoke softly, kindly. you could see exactly why your mother loved him so much. even without him being the only choice, he probably would have been her first choice for you.

“yes. i love lilies.”

you took a deep breath to keep yourself from blowing up, it couldn’t be a coincidence that he kept having the same favorites as you. someone told him so he could better bond with you. 

your mom knew how badly you didn’t want this wedding to happen, she probably send his family a letter of ways to win your favor.

“it would be the perfect time to have the ceremony outside,” minho’s mother gushed, “the green suits them both.”

your dad laughed, “every color suits our y/n.”

“what color were you thinking, dear?” your mother turned to you.

your eyes shot to her. you were about to snap that you didn’t care about colors because you hoped there would be no wedding to coordinate colors to, but minhos parents were in the room. you couldn’t risk upsetting them and throwing off the good relationship your kingdoms had simply because you didn’t want to marry their son.

cutting off the marriage would be one thing. if it was mutual, it wouldn’t harm any relationships between the kingdoms. it would just stall your transition to power until you were forced against another possible husband. insulting him in front of his parents, however, might.

instead, you opted to look over at minho and pull a false smile onto your features.

“i think purple would suit him well.”

his parents didn’t catch the falseness of your cheerful tone or the way the smile on your lips was obviously forced, but minho did.

“oh, you’re so right!”

you asked one of the servants for the time and stood up.

“mom, i need to water my plants. may i?”

she nodded gesturing to the boy beside you, “take minho with you.”

you nodded, turning to leave the room without waiting for him. you heard your mother mutter something about your own little garden that you refused to let the staff tend for instead of  doing it yourself.

minho caught up as you were partly down the hallway. 

“y/n, is something wrong?”

you stopped, nearly causing him to crash into you.

“is something wrong? minho, this whole thing is wrong.”

he frowned, following again as you made your way to the garden entrance, “what do you mean?”

you opened the door to the garden a little harsher than you probably needed to and began filling a watering jug, “people should be able to fall in love before marriage.”

he shrugged, “there’s plenty of time for you to fall in love with me before the ceremony.”

you sent a glare towards him, “i want to choose who i love, minho.”

“then choose me.”

you shook your head, choosing not to respond. he followed you across the garden and to a small, fenced off patch that he assumed to be your personal garden.

you could feel his eyes on you as you went around and checked the soil around each plant before watering the ones that needed it. he wasn’t saying anything, he was just watching you. you let him stand in silence.

he followed you back to the entrance where you sat your watering can down and to a small bench where he took his seat beside you.

you put some distance between the two of you when he sat down right next to you and he noticed, just as he had noticed every other less than loving way you’d reacted to each of his attempts to show affection.

his chest tightened, why did you hate him so much? he thought you two were on good terms. the last time you saw each other, you laughed and joked with him. what was different now? was the idea of marrying him really that bad? 

maybe you were just nervous. 

people handle nerves differently, he reminded himself, maybe yours just made you snappy. it wasn’t anything to worry about. plenty of people had second thoughts before their weddings. you just had to get used to him was all, since you hadn’t seen each other in so long. then you would go back to joking with him and your he happy to have him as your husband.

he was shaken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you don’t drink much?” you were referring to the glass of wine he had barely finished during dinner.

he shook his head, “it makes my mind foggy.”

you chuckled. he liked the sound. somehow, it was sweeter knowing that it was because of him.

“isn’t that what alcohol is supposed to do?”

he smiled, “i guess. but i wanted to be able to see you clearly.”

something akin to butterflies woke up inside your stomach. you ignored them as you stood abruptly, heading immediately for the door. he followed you out of the garden and back to the dining room where your families were seated. they turned as you stepped through the door.

“mother, it’s getting late and they have a long ride home.”

minho said nothing, standing at your side like it’s where he belonged, once again too close for comfort.

his parents agreed, standing along with your parents and thanking them for having them over. his mother hugged you goodbye at the front door before stepping into a carriage with her husband and son.

you were thankful that minho hadn’t tried to hug you goodbye. or much worse, kiss you.

he spent the carriage ride home wishing he had.

it was only a matter of days before his family was visiting again. since minho would be living in your castle with you, your parents decided it was best to have him visit you again rather than you go to his kingdom.

“y/n, the lees will be here soon, get dressed!” 

“i am dressed.”

“then get out here!”

you groaned and chan laughed beside you.

“stop laughing at my pain.” you scolded him, “i’ll have you fired from the guard.”

he laughed again, “you would never. who would protect you then?”

you grumbled as you straightened your dress and opened the door, “felix. woojin. seungmin. literally any of the other guards.”

he pouted, coming to stand next to you as you walked down the hallway and to the front where you would be greeting minho.

he was going to complain, but you cut him off when you saw minho and his family standing near the doorway.

“go join the others.” you told chan, “but be on watch. you might need to save minho from me if he acts like he was last time.”

chan laughed, heading to stand with the rest of the guards.

minho noticed the friendly interaction and smiled. he liked how you were always so nice to the servants. he noticed it during the meal too, when you smiled and joked with the waiter.

“sorry to keep you waiting.” you bowed politely to his parents.

you turned to minho, “hello.”

a big smile spread across his features, “hi again, my love.”

he had taken a risk with those being the first words out of his mouth. he thought that maybe seeing him again and time to adjust had gotten you used to the idea of him. he thought maybe your attitude would have changed towards him.

he was wrong. although you couldn’t make a point of showing it in front of his parents, he could see by the slight change in your eyes at the choice of the name that he was definitely wrong.

“would you kids leave the adults to talk for a while?” your mother spoke.

she placed one hand on your shoulder and the other on minho’s, “you can go wherever you’d like, just stay clear of your bedroom.”

your face flushed red and glared at your mom as minhos parents laughed. was she trying to embarrass you? did she think you’d laugh at the joke? it wasn’t funny.

knowing you wouldn’t last long without blowing up with teasing like that, you took a hold of minho’s hand and drug him away from your parents. you allowed him to walk beside you this time instead of rushing to be in front of him, but you dropped his hand practically as soon as you’d taken it.

he’d assumed the garden was your destination, so when you walked past the doorway to the giant greenhouse, he spoke up.

“where are we going?”

“i don’t know yet.”

you ended up at the base of a staircase that lead to the roof of the castle. without questioning you, he followed you up the stairs and to the open roof. you were immediately met with a burst of cold air, but the longer you stood in the wind, the easier it became to handle. 

you followed minho as he made his way across the roof and towards the edge, throwing his legs over and sitting with them dangling down as he took in the view.

he probably expected to go sit with him, so you did. that in no way meant you were going to begin complying with everything, it just meant that you were choosing to be civil in that moment.

he noticed as you glanced back at the door you’d entered the roof from.

“what is it?”

“my mother must have told my guards not to follow us.”

he shrugged, “why would you need guards when you’re with me?”

you huffed, “in case i decide to bite your head off.”

he laughed at the remark, and even though you hadn’t intended it as a joke, you laughed along with him. something about his laugh made it impossible to sit there with a scowl on your face.

“tell me what’s so bad about me, then.”

a teasing grin spread across your face as you looked at him, “god, where do i start...”

he gestured for you to continue, but your mind ran blank. what exactly was so bad about him? the majority of your issues weren’t with him in specific.

then one thing popped into your mind like a big red flag.

“you’re forcing me into marriage.”

he frowned, “i don’t think so, not really. if i refused to marry you, you would simply wait another year or two as a princess until your parents were able to find another prince for you.” he paused, “in some ways, i actually think i’m saving you.”

“saving me?” you scoffed out.

“yes. from some creep you might be forced to marry instead of me if i decline as harshly as you are.”

“who says you’re not a creep, lee minho?”

his face morphed into faux offense, “my mother says i’m quite the gentleman, thank you very much.”

you let out a small chuckle before responding. he did have a point, you were going to be forced into a marriage eventually, whether it be this one or not. at least you knew him. was a couple extra years of freedom worth marrying someone you didn’t know at all? or would it be wisest to settle for minho? 

either way, you still didn’t understand why you needed a man at all to lead.

“why can’t i just lead alone? i don’t need a king.”

“there’s two thrones for a reason.”

he saw the confusion across your face and continued.

“two leaders is safer than one. it requires compromise and thought, not just one person making the choices according to their opinion only.”

you nodded, and you hated how much his explanation of everything was making sense. 

“it’s the same reason they make a king marry before taking the throne if they can help it.”

there was a short pause before he spoke again, “i mean, technically, if both of your parents died right now, there would be no option other than to send you to the throne alone. and as the queen, no one could tell you to get married. but unless you want to assassinate your parents,” he brought his hand to rest on top of yours, “you’re stuck with me.”

ignoring the searing heat of his skin touching yours, you narrowed your eyes up at him as you spoke.

“you make it tempting.”

he laughed again, and this time you had intended for it to be humorous. 

it was cleared now why things were the way they were. it would have been so much easier if your parents took a second to explain it in the way minho had. he was very good with explaining things, a talent a good king needs to have.

maybe he wouldn’t be so bad to lead with.

still, you didn’t resent the situation any less than you had before understanding it.

you turned from the view of the mountains to find minho already staring back at you. it wasn’t until you noticed the way the sun framed his face that you noticed how quickly the sun had been setting, had you really been outside with him that long?

you traced the lines of his face with your eyes, admiring the way the sun sat on his skin as if it was made for the purpose. 

you frowned in confusion as the shapes across his face began to grow, and before you could register it, his lips were only moments away from yours. you reacted quickly, thankful that he had paused to give you the option to do so.

he didn’t seem surprised as the palms of your hands connected to his chest, pushing him away from you. 

you stood from the edge, dusting off your dress and motioning to the door.

“i’m not supposed to be outside at dark without my guards.”

you knew that that didn’t matter, your parents trusted minho to keep you safe, that’s the whole reason they didn’t feel the need to send guards with you in the first place. you figured he probably knew that too, but he didn’t comment on it. instead, he nodded, following you to the staircase and opening the door for you, walking with you around the castle as you looked for your parents.

you found them in the first place you looked, the lounge. you waited for a pause in their conversation before making yourself known.

“it’s getting dark, shall i ask for the carriage?”

your mother sent you a worried smile as your dad spoke.

“sweetheart, they’re staying the night. we’ll have a carriage sent to take king and queen lee home in the morning.

you frowned, glancing at minho. he shrugged.

“the king and queen? what about minho?”

“he’ll be living here from now on. he might as well get used to his new home.”

your face fell.

“what about my things?” minho questioned. he seemed much more calm about the news than you, but he didn’t seem to know any more about the situation.

his mother waved the question off, “i sent for some carriages with your things as soon as we made the decision for you to remain here. they’ve already arrived and are waiting to be unpacked.”

“where are they?” he questioned.

his mother laughed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“your bedroom.”

“where is that?”

your dad cut in, “y/n can show you.”

that’s when it hit you- his bedroom was your bedroom. that’s why your mother had told you to stay clear of it. she had anticipated the conversation about minho staying and wanted the area to be clear if they chose to move his things in. your mother hadn’t meant it as a joke at all, she said it as an order.

trying to hide your frustration, you grabbed minho’s hand and turned to leave.

“we’ll start to unpack now!”

you ignored both your and his parents calls as you dragged him down the hallways and to your bedroom. 

the first thing you noticed was that some of your personal items were being carried out of the door as you watched. things that made your bedroom yours. stacks of books you loved to read and even piles of papers containing words of your own were being handled by random personnel. not even your own guards, staff you had never met was handling your personal things. it would be one thing if it was chan or one of your friends moving things out, but it wasn’t. you hadn’t even seen chan or the rest of your guard since you greeted minho when he arrived.

their soul job was to protect you, and they had been relieved of duty while you were with minho, so why couldn’t they have been the ones to handle your things? it would still have upset you, obviously, but it would have been far less intrusive to have people you know and trust doing it.

you felt tears brimming in your eyes. your parents knew how much you valued privacy, and yet they let people you’d never even seen on the property handle everything you valued. 

minho’s eyes were just as attached to the scene ahead of you until he heard a soft whimper leave your lips. immediately, he had his arms around you and your face buried in his chest.

you wanted to pull away, to shove him and curse at him for coming into your life like this, but instead, you gripped the fabric of his button up shirt and let him hold you close.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair, “i didn’t know.”

and then he did something you would never have expected.

“excuse me!” he called, his authoritative voice echoing down the hallway, “you can stop now. put whatever is in your hands down and leave.”

the movers hesitated, not knowing whether or not to follow his commands yet, but they ended up obeying. he stopped one of the men as he moved to walk past the two of you, you still secure and crying into his chest.

“where did you put the things you moved?”

the worker gestured to the things in the hall outside your bedroom, “everything we moved is in this hallway, your royal highness.”

“and my things?”

“waiting for you further down the hall.”

he nodded and let the man leave before slowly pulling you off of him. he felt a squeeze in his heart as you looked up at him with red, tear filled eyes. 

he led you into your room, “let’s get you to your bed.”

you let out a small sob at his words, “that’s not my bed.”

he was confused for a moment before it registered in his mind. they must have switched out your old bed in favor of a larger one to suit the both of you, even though the one you had before would have no doubt done the job fine. you’d probably had a queen at the smallest.

the longer minho held you, the less you wanted to push him away and blame him for everything that was happening.

he walked you over to the bed and sat you down, taking a seat beside you so you could remain attached to him.

he knew that it wasn’t him you found comfort in, but rather just a warm body to hug. still, having you so close to him felt so right, he couldn’t bring himself to care. it felt like you were finally responding to him like a woman should to her fiancé. you were letting him take care of you.

truth be told, if he could have scooped you up in his arms the day he first saw you after learning you were to be his wife a few days prior, he would have, and he never would have let go. 

when he saw your name on the piece of paper handed to him, he didn’t even read the rest. even before opening the letter, your name had popped into his mind. he’d always had a childish crush on you. even at a young age, he knew he wouldn’t be able to choose who he married, but that didn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, you would at least be an option.

so imagine his excitement when you were. and then imagine his pain when you told him you wished you were anything but.

as he moved you up the bed and snuggled himself in beside you before pulling the covers up to keep you warm, he wondered if maybe tonight would change that.

maybe you would realize that you liked the feeling of being in his arms, of having him hold you close. as your sniffles became softer and eventually stopped, he wondered if you’d realize that falling asleep next to him was something you could get used to.

because oh goodness, after falling asleep with you in his arms, even though the both of you were still in uncomfortable cloths and had fallen asleep upset, he didn’t ever want to go to bed without you again.

you were woken up only a little while after falling asleep to the sound of soft knocking on your door. minho stirred beside you and you both sat up to see who it was.

both of your mothers were standing in the doorway with adoration in their eyes at the sight in front of them. 

“and here i thought you’d be upset over the room.” your mother cooed as she made her way into the room.

you shifted yourself away from minho and you could have sworn you heard a whine of complaint come from him as your body lost contact to his. or maybe it was you.

his mother approached the bed as well, taking hold of his collar and straightening it out.

“goodness, you two didn’t even bother to change into sleep clothes.”

minho responded before you could, “we hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“what time is it?” you added.

“not late,” your mother responded, “it was still only 10:30 when we headed up to check on you.”

you nodded, and as the sleep wore off, the anger kicked in. before you burst, you stood and ushered them out of the room.

“i’ll get changed now, then, and then we can organize and unpack a little tonight.”

“we can help!” his mother chimed.

before you could deny the offer, minho did.

“no mother, we want to set up our bedroom ourselves, please.”

happy with the response, she nodded and followed your mother out of the room and back to wherever your fathers were waiting.

minho stood from the bed and looked into your closet.

“it doesn’t look like any of my clothes are here yet, so i’ll leave you to change. i can find something in a box and i’ll find a place to change.”

you nodded as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

you sat on the edge of your bed for a moment before standing up and grabbing the same sleep clothes you wore every night. they had already been washed in the morning and pressed dry, ready for you to use again.

you tried to undo the buttons on the back of your dress, but you couldn’t reach. chan had helped you do them earlier in the day. you reached your arm over the opposite shoulder in an attempt to reach the buttons, straining the fabric of the dress in a weird way. you heard the sound of stitches coming undone and pulled your arm back into a normal position, inspecting the place the noise had come from. sure enough, there were little pieces of thread hanging around a small tear in the arm of your dress.

defeated, you sat down on your bed and waited for minho to return. it wasn’t long before he did, signaling his presence with a couple soft knocks to the door. you called for him to come in and he did, pausing in surprise when he saw you still in the dress, your night clothes bundled in your hands.

“i can’t reach the buttons.”

he threw his head back in understanding, taking a few steps towards you as you turned your back to him, moving your hair out of the way of the buttons. 

you didn’t know what you’d expected, but the gentle touch of his fingers against your neck as he undid the top button sent a shiver through you. you hoped he didn’t notice, but by the way his movements stopped for a split second before continuing, you knew he had.

he undid the buttons until there were none left, leaving the top half of your back exposed to him where your dress fell open. his eyes ghosted over your shoulder blades and the smooth skin of your back. he wanted to place his palm there, to feel the warmth of your skin in more than just the tips of his fingers. he actually might have, despite his best judgement, if you hadn’t spoke up.

“are you done?”

he muttered a soft word of confirmation as you turned to face him again, hands holding the fabric to your chest to pretend it from falling off. 

he stared at you for a moment before reality seemed to flow back into his head.

“let me know when you’re done.”

you nodded, waiting until he pulled the door closed behind him to let the dress fall to the floor. you took your time changing. it felt nice to be alone. after a few minutes, though, an unexpected feeling built up in your chest. it was nice to be alone, but you missed minhos company. or maybe you just missed company.

that was it, you told yourself, you just missed having someone around. your resolve was not breaking this quickly. you were upset and frustrated with how things were going and he was just as good as anyone, except maybe chan, to keep you company.

you called out for him to come back in and he did, immediately taking the clothes you’d just changed out of and setting them in a bin outside your door where they would wait until someone came and took them for cleaning. 

you followed him to the door, heading right for a pile of books that had been taken off of your personal bookshelf. luckily, they hadn’t moved the shelf out of your bedroom yet, so you only had the books to carry back in.

you did the same for a few other things, things that you couldn’t imagine not having in your room, before turning to minho.

“what do you want moved in next?” he asked.

“something of yours.”

he was shocked by your reply, almost as if he had expected you to return your bedroom to the way it was before he arrived and pretend his things didn’t exist.

sure, you didn’t like that you had to remove your things from your room to make room for his stuff, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it right then. it wasn’t your room anymore. it belonged to the both of you.

at least until you could convince your parents to cancel the wedding, that is. that was still the plan.

“uh, okay,” minho began down the hallway, scanning his things as he did. he finally settled on a pretty, dark wooded desk. it had drawers along the side and it looked very used. you were surprised his parents let him keep it with how old it looked. it must have been important to him.

he insisted that he could carry it alone, but eventually he let you help. it fit perfectly in the room, almost like it was meant to be there. you placed it a couple feet away from your own desk, which was a similar color. it was a similar build too, with drawers on the sides.

back in the hallway, minho sighed as he attempted to move a large bookcase of his.

“we can’t move this alone. it can wait until morning.”

you nodded, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

“there’s room on mine, if you want. we can put this in storage and you can put your books with mine. there’s no need for two bookcases in one room.”

he was slightly taken aback by your offer, but nodded. he liked that you were getting used to sharing. getting used to it being not just your room, but his too. maybe you had changed your mind about him already.

“okay,” he agreed, “then we can take some books in.”

you grumbled, “but only one load. then we’re done for tonight.”

he laughed, assuring you that it was the last load of the night and walking back to the bedroom beside you, books in hand.

you helped him organize the books on the shelf, interlocking them with yours when it looked best to do so. the bookshelf was still quite empty, but that was fine. you had more books somewhere in the hall that you hadn’t bothered to search for and he had more, too.

you sat down on the bed, still messed up from your little nap, and sighed, but you didn’t say anything.

instead, minho did. after a few minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence, he sat down beside you and spoke.

“why won’t you let me kiss you?”

you were surprised by the sudden question, “you only tried once.”

“you’d only push me away again if i tried another time.”

“you gave me the chance to push you away.”

“because i knew you would.”

“then why try?”

“because i want to kiss you. why don’t you want to kiss me?”

you faltered at the confidence in his words. sure, his earlier actions had made it clear he wanted to kiss you, he wouldn’t have tried to otherwise, but hearing him say it out loud felt different. it made it click in your mind that he meant it, that it was real.

“i don’t- i already told you.”

“no you didn’t.”

“yes, i did.” you insisted, “i told you. i don’t want to be in a relationship that’s forced.”

and there it was. despite the progress he thought he’d made with you, there it was. that same angry, bitter attitude towards whatever relationship you two had. 

he shoved the disappointment down his throat and replied, “then don’t force it. i’m not.”

he said it casually, just like he said and did everything else he did around you. his laid back demeanor gave the illusion that maybe his words were honest. maybe he wasn’t forcing anything he felt for you, maybe he genuinely did look forward to the wedding, and not only for the power. you shoved the thought from your mind, looking forward to marrying you and looking forward to taking control of your kingdom were not the same thing.

as had become common for you, you chose not to respond, instead scooting yourself along the bed until you had your head on a pillow, pulling the blankets over yourself. you felt the bed shift as he did the same, reaching out to shut off any lights in the room before crawling under the same blankets as you. 

as badly as he wanted to pull you close to his chest and hold you while he fell asleep like he had hours before, he knew he couldn’t. everything in the way you were responding to him now told him that you would just push him away, maybe even change your mind about sleeping in the same bed as him and make him move to the floor. or worse, move there yourself.

no, minho didn’t want you to sleep on the floor and he didn’t want to upset you further than he knew he already had, so he stayed to himself. with your back to him, he listened to the even sounds of your breathing as you fell asleep. that would have to be enough for him for now.

the next morning was a repeat of the night before, minus minhos thoughts that you could be finally accepting him, maybe even growing feelings that didn’t involve resentment and anger.

after sending his parents off with a promise of them returning soon, just like the night before, you spent the day rearranging the room with him. you refused any help from your parents or anyone else, partially because you didn’t want anyone to touch your things again and partially because you couldn’t stand to be around them at the moment.

unlike before, though, your comfort and coziness to minho had worn off. you were no longer showing him any form of physical affection. 

you still kept the room fair, although it didn’t feel like it was half you and half him. it felt like its own place. it wasn’t partially him, the other half you- it was 100% the two of you, together.

you actually quite liked the way the room turned out. you weren’t being as snappy to him as you originally had been, but the atmosphere wasn’t anything close to before, when you’d looked to him for comfort from the pain rather than looking at him like he was the source of it all.

minho hated seeing you cry. when he noticed your state the night before and pulled you into his chest, he could have sworn his heart broke, like it would have fallen right out of his chest if you hadn’t been there holding it in. that reason exactly is why he felt so bad now.

he didn’t want you to cry, he didn’t want you to be sad, but he almost wished you would again, if it meant you would let your walls down for him again. anything to put you back in his arms.

you were walking back to your bedroom after dinner and tending to your garden, exhausted from life and redecorating your room. you were growing used to spending nearly every waking, and sleeping, moment with minho, even beginning to enjoy his company, but that didn’t mean small moments alone weren’t appreciated.

you knew it would only be a few minutes, but walking alone to your shared bedroom while minho was speaking to your parents felt like heaven. 

you didn’t remain alone for long, but it didn’t bother you. not when the person breaking the isolation was your best friend.

you jogged down the hallway and to your bedroom door where chan was standing, waiting for you. you hadn’t seen him since minho had arrived days prior.

you threw your arms around him the moment you reached him, happy to finally see him again. it hadn’t been that long, but considering he was usually with you constantly, a few days felt like forever. he pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss to your forehead as you smiled up at him.

you were about to ask him why he hadn’t been around when someone interrupted you.

“i thought you didn’t have brothers.” minho’s voice.

“i don’t.” you payed no attention to chan’s arm around your waist.

he nodded, “then this is?”

chan stepped away from you and reached his hand out to minho, “ah, i’m sorry! i’m chan, head of y/n’s personal guard.”

minho nodded again, taking chan’s hand and gripping it firmly.

“minho. y/n’s fiancé.”

releasing minhos hand and stepping back to you, chan laughed, “i know that, you’re all anyone is talking about recently.”

minho raised an eyebrow, locking his eyes to yours.

“am i?”

“of course!” chan babbled, “everyone’s excited for the wedding.”

minho scoffed, eyes still glued to yours.

“not everyone.” 

he didn’t bother to excuse himself before he shoved past you and chan, an action that could have easily been avoided with all the space the hallway held, and into your bedroom. 

a confused expression plastered on your face as you turned to chan.

“i know i complain a lot, but he’s usually not that bad. not even near it.”

chan frowned, lowering his voice. minho was right inside the door, after all.

“did you get into a fight or something?”

you shook your head, why did it actually bother you that he seemed upset with you?

“maybe you should go talk to him?”

you debated it in your mind. you probably should go check out what was bothering him, he was fine not even twenty minutes ago at dinner, but you also wanted to stay and talk to chan. you wanted to catch up, to vent.

as if reading your mind, chan turned you to face him.

“hey, go. we’ll see each other plenty now. your mom wanted us to give you space for a while, but the guard is back on full duty.”

you nodded, eyes trained on your bedroom door. you walked away from chan practically the moment he gave you the good to go, stepping into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you. 

it didn’t take you long to find minho. he was sat in his desk chair, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. he didn’t look up until you addressed him.

your voice was soft, “minho?”

if he hadn’t been so frustrated, he would have celebrated at your caring tone.

instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

“what?”

your frown grew, “what happened? are you okay?”

“yeah,” he stood from his seat, mumbling as he crossed the room to the closet, where he pulled out his sleeping clothes and began to unbutton his day shirt, “i’m fine.”

maybe he expected you to leave it at that. it seemed that’s what he wanted, considering his choice to suddenly switch to his night clothes. whenever he started to undress, you hurried out of the room. this time, though, you were worried about him. actually worried about him.

so you stayed put.

“minho, i can tell that’s not true. you’re upset.”

he scoffed. as if your words had broken some dam inside of him, he let his frustrations free. his hands flew into the air, completely abandoning his shirt, which he had barely begun to unbutton.

“pardon me for not cheering when i see another man kissing my fiancé!”

“you- chan? you’re upset because i was speaking to my best friend.”

you said it more as a statement than a question.

“no,” he took a couple steps towards you, abandoning his sleep it’s clothes over the foot of the bed, “i’m upset because he kissed you.”

“on the forehead.”

“you wouldn’t let me do that though, would you?”

he was right in front of you now. you stuttered before replying, and it clicked in your mind: he was jealous. your demeanor softened.

“you’re mad that i let him kiss me and not you?”

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, a small pout on his lips.

the sight triggered something inside of you. he looked so real, so sad. he looked, for a lack of better words, genuinely hurt. it put the notion in your head that maybe he did care more about marrying you than just taking control of your kingdom.

you sighed, walking past him and to the closet, grabbing your change of clothes before stepping off into the bathroom to change. you heard him let out a soft sigh as you shut the door behind you, he must have assumed you dropped the topic. you didn’t know if he was glad that a fight hadn’t escalated or if he was upset that the conversation didn’t get to the point where he could kiss you and blame it on a flurry of emotions and jealousy.

you got into your sleeping clothes and, trusting that he had changed as well, you stepped back into the bedroom without asking if it was okay. you went straight for the bed, wordlessly finding a comfortable position as he slid in beside you. he reached out to shut off the lights and lay flat on his back, taking deep breaths and trying to get himself to calm down enough to sleep when he felt a weight on his waist followed by a warm presence pressing up against his side. he made a small sound of surprise as he looked down.

there you were, arm draped over his torso, cuddled into his side. your eyes were shut and your head rested against his chest.

any frustration he’d felt towards you far gone, he took the chance to wrap his arms around you, securing you to his body as if you were going to run away at any moment. he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. it was so light you wondered if he’d meant for you to feel it at all.

you shifted slightly, keeping your arm around his waist as you offered a small smile against his chest.

“there. even.”

things got easier from then on, although you wouldn’t admit it. you’d dropped your attempts  at hating your new fiancé, how were you supposed to dislike him? you hadn’t dropped your hard feelings towards the situation and you definitely hadn’t agreed or started complying to the wedding, but you could bring it upon yourself to keep trying to be cold to minho. not even when the day was filled with wedding planning and dress fitting.

you’d woken up still in minho’s arms, even more so than you’d been when you had fallen asleep. your back was flat against his chest and one of his legs was sprawled over yours, practically trapping you as his arms held you around the waist. 

maybe you should have been surprised to wake up that close to him or tried to pry his hands off of you, but you didn’t, and you didn’t want to. you hated yourself for it, but you were beginning to really consider the idea that he was your best bet. maybe complying and marrying him would be safer and more pleasant than anyone else your parents might throw your direction in the future if this wedding got called off. 

minho shifted beside you, groaning at the light and removing an arm from your body to rub his eyes. the instant he did it, he dropped his arm back around you and held you close, as if he’d made a mistake by letting you go in the first place.

you laughed, and that’s always a good way to start a day.

it amazed minho how much your attitude towards him could change overnight. granted, you weren’t holding his hand and offering him kisses everywhere you went, but you had started actually initiating conversations with him. you joked with him and allowed yourself to laugh at his jokes, you didn’t even ignore him that much anymore. you weren’t treating him like your soon to be husband yet, but still. you treating him like a friend was better than you treating him like an enemy, even if it’s not what he really wanted.

“oh my god.” you groaned, “if i have to look at one more fucking shade of purple that looks exactly like the last and say which looks better i will absolutely lose my shit.”

he laughed, “you’re the one who said i would look hot in purple.”

you sent a glare his way, but it wasn’t like the ones you used to show him. it was joking, friendly.

“i did not say you’d look hot.”

“i think you did.”

“i can promise you i didn’t.”

“no, i’m pretty sure i remember you saying it. i think your exact words were, ‘oh, how lucky am i to have this treasure of a man as my future husband, i think purple-‘“

he was cut off by a call from the doorway of the room the two of you had been in practically all day, helping choose colors and getting fit for your wedding apparel. 

“y/n, prince minho, dinner’s done.”

you knew immediately by the choice of laid back words that it was chan. no one else, not even your other friends, spoke to you like that outside of private.

you turned to the door, “one of these days i’m going to have you tarred and feathered for disrespecting me, bang chan.”

he laughed, “i’m sure you are.”

you met him at the door before minho even had the chance to stand, shoving him lightly.

“i am! watch, i’ll bring it up at dinner.”

he laughed, walking beside you as the three of you made your way to the dining room.

“isn’t it impolite to discuss executions during meal time?”

minho walked silently beside you, it was like you’d completely forgotten his existence once chan showed up.

“i might just break etiquette to speed up your punishment.”

another small laugh from him and then you were walking through the doors and into the dining room. you and minho took your seats at the table and chan took his standing along the wall with the rest of the guard and staff.

you turned to minho, “do you think we’re done for the day, then? or do we have more purple to look forward too?”

he shrugged your attempt at a joke off, trying not to show how bothered he was. so that’s how it was going to be? the second chan leaves, then he’s interesting enough to talk to again?

“maybe they’ll finally start making decorations and the suit and dress.”

either you hadn’t noticed his attitude change or didn’t care enough to react.

“i wonder how quickly they’ll pull things together.”

you really didn’t know. they could rush and work their butts off and you could be getting married within the next week, or they could take as much time as needed for preparations. you didn’t know. and if your parents had any clue, they didn’t bring it up.

their chosen dinner conversations were the same as they had been for the past many nights. talk about the wedding, who was going to be invited. was it bad manners to invite the brides minho had rejected? or was it polite? a good portion of the time not eating was spent with your mother trying to convince you to care more about the wedding. she was wholeheartedly convinced that you’d changed your mind and fallen in love with minho because you were being friendly now. she expected you to care more about the planning now that you didn’t seem so against it.

hurrying away from the dining room as soon as possible by claiming you’d had enough wedding talk for the day, which wasn’t a lie, you and minho made your way back to your bedroom. his earlier frustrations were forgotten as the two of you sat on the bed and talked about various books across the bookshelf. 

as it turned out, some of the books ended up having to be put in storage. not for a lack of room, but simply because two copies were not needed. you shared a lot of the same interests.

“i told you,” he said, only half joking, “we’re meant for each other.”

you shoved him, pulling the book from his hands. before you could reply, he was speaking again.

“be careful! that’s my copy!”

you laughed, clutching the book to your chest and turning away as he reached for it.

“not anymore! it’s ours.”

“it is not. that is very much so mine.”

“no,” you insisted, moving again to keep him from grabbing it, “nothing in this room is yours. it’s all ours. or mine.”

he laughed, stopping his useless attempts at grabbing the book. 

“yours?”

you nodded, “my stuff is still mine. but yours is ours now.”

with that, he jumped on you, tackling you onto your back. you dropped the book somewhere during the attack and it made a loud noise as it fell to the floor.

“what about you?” he asked, easily keeping you from struggling, “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

you stopped struggling, showing him the game was over.

“i don’t belong to anyone.”

you easily shoved him off of you in his stunned state. he hadn’t meant to offend you.

“y/n, that’s not what i meant.”

you cut him off as you shut the bathroom door behind you, night clothes in hand. you took significantly longer to change than you needed, both you and him knew that. he would have had time to crawl into bed and fall asleep three times over as he as waiting for you, but he didn’t. truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of falling asleep without you beside him anymore. he might have to test that theory, he didn’t know if you would let him hold you that night after he unintentionally upset you.

just as things were beginning to work, he messed it up. he really hadn’t meant to imply he owned you in any way, he was only trying to be cute, maybe get you to say yourself that you were going to marry him, maybe even that you wanted to.

he didn’t know the exact rules of falling in love, but if he could say anything for certain it would be that he was in love with you. maybe it was when he saw your name on that paper and his fantasy became a possible reality that he really fell, or maybe it was when he saw you face to face for the first time after learning you’d be the one he’d marry, he really didn’t know. he had no clue when it changed from some childish crush into fill blown love, but it did.

was it even possible to be in love with someone you’d only met a handful of times and were only paired to marry a few weeks prior? it must have been. otherwise, how would he explain the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you?

when you finally came out of the bathroom, you silently put your clothes in the basket and crawled into bed. like always, minho switched off the lights and secured the covers over himself, shifting until he found a comfortable position. he was debating in his mind if he should reach out and try to hold you or if that would just make everything worse when you scooted so your back was to his chest, not outright cuddling him but giving the invitation.

he obliged immediately, wrapping his arm around you while the other went to play with your hair. he placed another one of his gentle, barely-there kisses to the side of your head as he muttered a soft, “i’m sorry.”

he didn’t know whether you replied or not, he fell asleep as the last syllable fell from his lips.

you didn’t go as easily. if your internal clock was at all accurate, you’d been laying there for  at least two hours, wide awake. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was keeping you up, probably the wedding, maybe the small fight with minho. either way, you could think of a better way to spend the time as long as you weren’t going to fall asleep.

carefully, you pulled minho’s arms off of you and slowly crawled out of bed, trying your hardest not to wake him up. you stood at the side of the bed for a moment, watching minho to make sure you hadn’t disturbed him, before creeping over to the door. you opened it as quietly as possible and peaked out. neither of the guards stationed outside your room were chan.

felix was on duty though, and he sent you a confused look as you stepped into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you. 

“where are you going? if you need something i’ll get it for you.”

you shook your head, “just can’t sleep. is chan in the bunks?”

felix nodded and you started off down the hallway towards the rooms the guards slept in when they didn’t have night duty. 

“hey, wait,” felix called after you, moving slightly as if he were going to follow, “i’m not technically supposed to let you go alone.”

you frowned at him, “it’s literally two minutes away and i’m headed to a room full of guards. i’ll be fine.”

he thought for a moment before moving back to stand in his original position, “fine. but if some hallway demon kills you on the way there that’s on you.”

you chuckled at his joke and made your way through the halls and to the wing that houses all of the staff that lived there. you weren’t technically supposed to go there at night, you weren’t really supposed to even leave your room at night, but none of the guards in the halls tried to stop you on your journey. it wasn’t uncommon for you to visit chan at night, especially not when you were younger. the both of you used to have trouble sleeping and it was much easier for you to sneak out and into his room than the other way around.

you gently opened the door and stepped into the room, heading right for chans bed. there were a dozen other sleeping guards, not all of them from your personal guard, also asleep on their own beds. you tapped chan awake, stifling your laugh when he flinched awake.

you used to wake him at least half of the nights he didn’t have duty, yet he still flinched every time you woke him up.

he looked confused to see you there but he didn’t hesitate to stand and follow you into the hallway.

when there, you went down away from the doors so you could talk freely without disturbing anyone and slid down the wall. chan did the same, seating himself right next to you.

“what’s up? you haven’t woken me up in the middle of the night for a while.”

you laughed, “yeah, i don’t know. i couldn’t sleep. plus, i’ve missed you. even with the guard back, i haven’t been able to spend time with you recently.”

he nodded, leaning to rest his head on your shoulder, “i know. i’ve missed you too.”

there was a brief pause before he spoke again.

“what’s on your mind?”

you scoffed lightly, “i don’t think there’s room for anything other than thoughts about the wedding right now. i can’t even breathe without someone mentioning it.”

chan chuckled, “it is kind of a big deal.”

you ignored him, “i don’t want to marry minho, chan.”

he took a deep breath, “why?”

“why?”

“why? tell me exactly what’s so bad about him.”

you didn’t hesitate before answering, “i’m being forced into it! i didn’t even get a choice, chan!”

he ignored your words, “no, what’s bad about him? not the situation, not the wedding, minho.”

you thought for a moment, wracked your brain for answers, but you couldn’t think of one genuine issue you had against him specifically.  you’d actually began to enjoy being around him.

chan waited for a while before he decided you weren’t going to answer.

“it seems to me like you two click really well.”

you shrugged.

“i think you should give him a chance, y/n.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“i mean i think you’re upset because you don’t want to get married, not because you don’t want to get married to him. and i think he might be changing your mind whether you know it or not.”

your frown didn’t lift.

“have you ever thought that maybe it’s fate that he ended up being your only option?”

not only did your frown once again not lift, it got deeper.

“i’m telling you y/n, a best friend knows. no matter how much you say you hate him, you’re falling for that boy.”

you cut in without hesitation, “no, i am not.”

his eyes widened and a grin spread across his face, “you are! no one is that defensive when they’re not lying.”

you hit him lightly and he continued, “for real, y/n. i think you like him more than you realize. just play nice for a while.”

“i am playing nice.”

“no,” he said, “you’re acting nice. actually let your guard down around him. let him in. let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

you grumbled. if anyone was going to be able to talk you into this marriage, it would be chan.

“okay.”

he followed your actions as you stood up.

“do you want me to walk you back?”

you shook your head, “i’ll be fine. go back to bed.”

he chuckled at your grumpy attitude, pulling you into a tight hug before letting you go. he watched until you turned a corner and he could no longer see you before stepping back into his room.

felix greeted you at your bedroom door.

“no hallway demons?”

“no hallway demons.”

“you’re lucky.”

you laughed at the boy and sent him a weird look to which he smiled in return. just as you had earlier, you carefully retraced your steps until you were back in bed with minho. taking chan’s request for you to try to warm up more to the idea of marrying minho, you secured yourself next to him, wrapping an arm around his torso. although, you probably would have done that even if minho’s name hadn’t even come up in your and chan’s conversation. you were finding that being in minho’s arms while you slept felt good. the thought that being held by anyone while sleeping would be comforting, it wasn’t just minho, crossed your mind before chan’s words echoed in your head.

“let yourself feel the things you’re feeling for him.”

maybe it was that it was minhos arms that made it so gentle and caring. if you thought about it, you couldn’t make a list longer than what you could count on one hand of who you would let sleep in the same bed as you, let alone cuddle you while sleeping. you’d only ever fallen asleep in minho of chans arms. and your parents, of course.

maybe you did feel deeper for the boy than you let yourself realize. maybe, despite every word coming out of your mouth insisting that you didn’t, you wanted to marry him.

several days went by, several wedding preparations were made. it turned out that they’d decided to go the rushed route, planning to hold the wedding ceremony as soon as possible. it was only two day’s out now. even though you still hadn’t even officially stated your acceptance of the wedding, preparations were in full force.

as you studied your reflection and took in the details of the gown you’d be wearing as you walked down the isle, you wondered how hard the seamstress’ must have worked to produce such a gorgeous piece of art in only a few days.

it was the traditional white color and it wasn’t anything overly fancy, you’d made it clear you wouldn’t wear it if it was. despite how quickly it had been made, it was clear it wasn’t rushed. every stitch looked perfect.

there were small embroidered designs along the fabric, popping out against the white of the base. the designs were a beautiful lilac purple, and although you knew that you and minho had chosen the exact shade, you wouldn’t have been able to decipher the shade from any of the other light purples that the seamstresses had in stock.

you assumed that minho had the same purple accenting his suit, but you had no clue what it looked like. your mothers were very adamant about neither of you seeing each other in the wedding apparel before the big event.

you bet he looked amazing.

you continued to admire yourself and the dress as several people checked the fitting, making sure the sizing was perfect and didn’t need any more alterations. when they decided it was, you found yourself not wanting to take the dress off quite yet. you couldn’t help but be excited for the next time you’d get to wear it.

minho was waiting for you when you stepped out of the room and into the hallway. apparently his fitting had taken less time than yours. suits did tend to be easier to size.

you let him take your hand as the two of you made your way to your bedroom. you’d taken chan’s advice and stopped shoving down emotions, and it made you realize how much you genuinely enjoyed minho. as much as you hated the way things worked and the way you got put together, you were beginning to think that maybe it had some sense to it. chan might have been right when he said that minho being your only choice was fate.

you dropped his hand to pick up the watering jug and fill it. he insisted on carrying it to your garden. you made no attempt to take it back when he held it out for you.

“no,” you laughed, “i showed you how to tell if they need watered yesterday. you do it.”

his eyes widened, “y/n, i seriously don’t think you want me to do that, i’ll kill them.”

“you will not,” you giggled, “but fine. i’ll help you.”

you approached the first plant along with him. it was a large basil plant. you didn’t use it for cooking or baking, the garden had plenty of basil that was used to harvest, but this one was just for show.

“check the soil.”

he did as you instructed, pressing his fingers into the dirt to check for moisture.

“i think it’s okay?”

his words came out as more of a question than a statement.

you reached forward and double checked, smiling and clapping your hands together when you realized he’d gotten it correct.

he did the same for the next plant, a lavender bush, claiming more confidently now that it didn’t need watered yet either. you checked, letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“i can’t believe you’re trying to kill my lavender plant. how could you?”

he sputtered, “i’m not! i really thought that it was fine!”

you huffed, taking the water from his hand and watering the plant.

“i can never trust you again.”

you started to check the other plants, watering a few of them. he complained and promised he’d learn better, but you continued to ignore him.

“my own fiancé... trying to kill my babies.”

you only stopped teasing him when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you tight and promising into your shoulder that he didn’t want to hurt your plants.

you turned to face him, his hands still resting on your hips.

“okay, i’ll give you one more chance.”

you gestured towards the last few plants you had yet to check, a couple flowers that minho couldn’t what you said were named.

he walked up to them, taking his time to check them before turning to you.

“the yellow ones are okay, the purple and blue ones need watered.”

you eyes him suspiciously as you went to check his claim, breaking out in a smile when you found that he was correct.

“technically, the yellow ones could use a little water, but i’ll say you passed.”

he laughed and watched you water the last plants before reaching out your free hand and taking hold of his. you set the watering can by the door and made your way back to your bedroom where minho dropped your hand and headed to his desk.

he’d grown confident enough in your comfort towards him that he wasn’t afraid to do things like that anymore, drop your hand or break away from a hug. he knew you’d let him hold you again. it wasn’t like less than a week earlier where he felt like you might run away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

he leaned down and shuffled through some papers on his desk. you recognized them as archery point sheets. he hadn’t been lying when he said he was good, he scored nines and tens easily from distances you wouldn’t have even been able to get close to hitting the target at, even after letting him give you some tips on aiming.

you snickered as you pulled out one specific scoring sheet that caught your eye. it was an insanely long distance round, the longest he’d ever tried yet, and he’d managed to score two nines and an eight.

you laughed as you help the paper up, “an eight? you suck.”

he tried to glare at you, but a smile poked through. you saw him made a move and dropped the paper, darting to get away from him.

he caught you quite easily, tackling you onto the bed. he held you loosely as he straddled you.

“take it back. say i’m the best archer you’ve ever seen.”

you shook your head, smile plastered on your lips.

“take it back!” he whined.

you shook your head again, trying not to laugh.

“whatever.” he released you from his grip, crawling off of you, “this is why i tried to kill your plants.”

you gasped, “i knew it!”

he laughed as he reached for his pajamas, stepping into the bathroom and pulling the door lightly shut. it didn’t close all the way, there was still a small crack. he wasn’t as shy as you were, you’d learned that all too well. you were surprised he even went into the bathroom at all.

he waited until he heard you drop your day clothes into the bin before coming back into the bedroom. he put his dirty clothes next to yours and crawled into bed beside you, following his same routine of shutting off the lights before pulling you into his arms.

as he always did with you there beside him, he fell asleep easily.

you had fallen into a deep sleep as well before something woke you up a couple hours later. you couldn’t say what it was that had woken you, maybe it was nothing at all. regardless, you sat there for a few minutes before realizing you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. you looked at the boy beside you.

you considered waking him up to keep you company until you could fall asleep again, but decided against it. he looked too peaceful. chan, however, you had no issue waking from a peaceful sleep.

sitting a few yards from any doors leading to people sleeping, you spoke to your best friend.

“am i going crazy, channie?”

he hummed, “probably, but why?”

you sent a light glare towards him before answering, “being kind of excited for the wedding.”

he broke out into a huge grin, “i so called it.”

you frowned in confusion and he continued.

“i said you were in love with him and you so are.”

you shook your head, “i’m not... in love with him,” 

why did the words seem foreign? 

“i just think i might, i don’t know, actually see us working out, and not just as a royal couple, together to rule. like as a genuine pair.”

he made a sound of understanding, “you’re totally in love with him.”

you didn’t deny it a second time.

you frowned as you approached your bedroom door. there was a faint light peaking out from under the crack in the door. you inched it open to find minho awake, sat up on the bed reading with a single lamp on. he looked up when he heard you enter.

“hey,” you greeted him, “why are you awake?”

he shrugged, “guess i got cold without you next to me.”

you got back into bed with him, pulling the blankets over your legs and leaning over to see what he was reading.

“what are you reading?”

he shut the book momentarily, marking his page with his finger and showing you the cover before flipping it back open and resuming where he left off.

you frowned. it wasn’t like him to ignore you like this.

“is something wrong? did you have a nightmare?”

he shut his book, tossing it to the ground beside his side of the bed. he pressed his lips together.

“yeah, i keep having these dreams that my fiancé is leaving in the middle of the night to secretly meet up with some guy. it’s weird.”

you raised your eyebrows, “who told you that?”

he shrugged, “asked the guard outside the door one night after you left what you were doing, he said you were visiting chan.”

you nodded, “yeah, i do that sometimes, is that an issue?”

he scoffed, “no, i just brought it up for fun.”

you pursed your lips, “really, minho? why does it bother you so much?”

there was no hesitation in his next words, almost as if he’d been itching to say them for a while now.

“is there something going on between you two?”

you scoffed, “seriously? you really think that?”

by now he had stood from the bed, “it doesn’t seem so crazy.”

you stood as well, challenging him as you stepped around the bed and in front of him.

“yeah, it does. it sounds insane.”

he looked you straight in the eyes, “does it? because it makes perfect sense to me. you won’t let me kiss you, you won’t sign the marriage contact even though you know you’re stuck with me, you’re so comfortable around him and you keep leaving in the middle of the night to meet with him in secret. it literally screams affair, y/n!”

“you seriously believe that i would cheat on you?”

“i don’t even think you see it as cheating since you don’t take a single fucking part of our relationship seriously.”

he took a step forward and you instinctively stepped back.

“i do take it seriously.”

he continued to close in on you until your back was pressed to the wall.

“then act like it.”

without thinking, you did just that. you acted.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, crashing his lips to yours. it wasn’t what you’d expected your first kiss to be like, you’d actually imagined it would be at the altar, but you weren’t complaining.

he reacted immediately, hands finding their way across your body. he slid one down your leg, stopping at your thigh and tapping it. you got the message, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. your back collided with the wall and the paintings hung there shook a little, but  you couldn’t be bothered to care. not when he tasted as good as he did.

one hand secure on your thigh to hold you up, the other found its way under your night gown and up your bare leg to the bare skin of your torso. he broke away for a moment as his fingers inched higher up.

“is this okay?”

you barely had time to mumbled a yes before your lips were back on his. you hadn’t realized you wanted to kiss him so bad until you finally did.

he let you breathe for a second as he peppered kisses along your neck, his hand exploring your body under your gown. his fingers found their way to your breasts and he squeezed one, causing a soft moan to fall from your lips.

he cursed at the sound, attaching his lips back to yours and turning to walk you to the bed. he easily sat you down, back to the mattress, and hiked up your night dress. you let out another soft moan when his hands finally made their way to your core. he ran his fingers over your clothed folds.

“you swear this is only mine?”

you nodded, “yes.”

“you promise?” he spoke between kisses, “tell me you promise.”

“i promise.”

that seemed to be enough for him as he growled against your lips, slipping his hand down the waistband of your panties.

you struggled to keep quiet as he finally made direct contact to your dripping core.

he cooed, “what, baby? no need to be quiet. who’s gonna hear? the guards?” you could feel his breath against your neck, “is chan on duty? is he right outside the door? let him hear you.”

you could only whine in response as he toyed with your clit.

you made a sound of annoyance when he pulled his hand from your panties, but your disappointment didn’t last for long. he pulled you to sit up so he could remove your night clothes, tossing them god knows where on the ground. he let out a deep groan as his eyes came on contact with your bare chest.

he brought his hands up to cup them, one in each hand.

“you’re gorgeous.”

he let one of his hands fall back to caressing the rest of your body and replaced it with his lips, taking your nipple into his mouth. despite his earlier demands not to try to silence yourself, a hand flew to your mouth as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan for how little stimulation you were getting.

he popped off your breast and licked a long stripe down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your underwear. he glanced up at you to make sure you were still on board before looking his fingers on them and pulling them down your legs. immediately, you tried to close your legs in embarrassment, but he easily held them open. 

he placed sloppy kisses to your neck as his fingers teased your entrance.

“has he ever seen you like this?”

“no.”

“you really expect me to believe that?”

“it’s true.” your words came out strangled as he slowly began to slide a finger into your heat. it was unusual and uncomfortable at first, but you got used to it, nearly screaming when he curled his finger and a line of pleasure shot through you.

he hummed, “i can tell you’re not lying, baby. no one is this sensitive if they’ve been fucking their royal guardsman behind their fiancé’s back.”

you whined as he added another finger, “haven’t- haven’t done this before.”

he hushed you, “i know, angel. you’re doing so well, just relax.”

you gripped tightly onto his shirt as he continued to work his fingers inside of you. with a particularly rough curl of his fingers, you felt something inside of you let go and a wave of pleasure flowed over your body. you let out the most heavenly sounds as minho worked your through your orgasm and he felt a swell of pride knowing that he was the only one who had ever made you feel so good. he was the only one who would ever make you feel this way.

he rode you through your orgasm before placing a gentle kiss to your lips. you tugged are the bottom of his shirt.

“are you sure, baby?”

you nodded, far too worked up to let out coherent words. he complied, slipping his shirt over his shoulders and ridding himself of his pants. you stared at his chest, reaching out to touch his skin before you even realized you were doing it. you slid your hand down his body until you came in contact with his hard length. he hissed as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking him. you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his cock as you basked in the sounds he made. the sounds you made him make.

he reached down and grabbed your wrist, “baby, i won’t last much longer if you keep this up.”

you nodded, reluctantly letting him guide your hand away from his length. you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your fingers in his hair as you felt him like himself up with your entrance.

the noise you let out when he began to sink into you could only be described as divine. minho had to stop for a moment and recollect himself, he really wouldn’t last long if you sounded like that at every move he made.

after a few moments, he was fully buried inside of you. he waited for you to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out, only to roughly slam back into you.

he had every intention of going slow and being gentle for your first time, but everything, from the way your pussy felt wrapped around him to the way you moaned out his name was too much for him.

despite his previous remark for you to let yourself be loud, he guided your face to his shoulder when he became genuinely concerned you may wake the entire castle.

“bite down.”

you did as he said, sinking your teeth into the flesh of the junction between his shoulder and neck. he let out a sound that made you think for a moment that you’d bitten too hard, but when you released your grip he groaned out, asking you to do it again.

he brought his hand between your bodies and began running slow circles onto your clit as his cock worked magic inside of you.

“im close. gonna fill you up, is that okay?”

you barely managed to get out a yes through the pleasure you were feeling. 

“fuck, gonna let me fuck my babies into you, huh?”

he adjusted your legs and the new angle plus his fingers working expertly on your clit threw you over the edge. 

“you’re going to be a great mother one day.”

you bit down hard on his shoulder as you came, only releasing the grip to tell him how good he was making you feel.

he came soon after, muttering praises and gushing about how good you did. he groaned as he gave a last few thrusts, watching as his and your cum leaked out with every thrust of his hips. the sight nearly made him hard again.

he pulled out, grabbing his discarded night shirt and wiping his length off before tossing it to the side again. he leaned back over you, connecting his lips to yours to swallow the whine you let out when his fingers connected back to your core.

he collected the cum that had dripped out and spread itself along your thighs and onto the sheets, pushing it back into you with his fingers.

he hushed you as you whined from overstimulation, “i know baby, i know, but we don’t wanna waste any, do we?”

you shook your head.

“no, we don’t. that’s my good girl.”

he connected his lips back to yours, “you’ll look gorgeous with my baby in your belly.”

you were honestly too fucked out to process anything that was happening, just laying there and letting him do what he wanted. despite the discomfort the overstimulation brought, you couldn’t help but complain when he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping them on his night shirt and slipping your panties back onto you.

needless to say, you slept easily after that.

you were beyond sore the next morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. the achy legs and raw throat were worth it.

you hurried to get dressed and shower off the sweat and other substances on your body the next morning before hurrying down for breakfast. minho had showered with you, insisting that since he made the mess, he should clean it up.

although your parents had already been confident that you’d changed your mind about the wedding, if anyone had doubts, including yourself, they were long gone.

a drastic change from even just the day before, you and minho stole kisses nearly any time you could. leaning over to grab the salt? kiss. walking past him to grab a book? kiss. sitting down waiting for more orders on how to help prepare for the wedding that was only a day away? kiss, kiss, kiss.

you’d been so caught up in your newfound love for kissing your fiancé that you didn’t even notice as chan snuck up to talk to you.

instinctively, minho’s arm tightened around your waist. he believed you when you promised him that you and chan were just friends, but he was still protective.

“so... hyunjin tells me i was right.”

you frowned in confusion, “what?”

“hyunjin said i was right. he had guard duty outside of your room last night and he told me you really warmed up to minho overnight.”

you nearly choked on your own spit at the realization that not only had your guards, your friends, heard last nights events, by the sound of it, they’d told everyone else.

minho didn’t even try to his hide proud smile has you blushed, covering your face in his chest.

chan turned to minho, “i knew she’d fall for you eventually. she used to gush about how cute you were when we were kids.”

you opened your mouth to protest, “that is not true.”

it really wasn’t. maybe you’d mentioned that he was easier to be around than many of the other royal, stuck up kids, but you had never said anything close to what chan claimed.

chan turned to minho, nodding his head as he scratched his nose, “it’s totally true.”

“it’s literally just not.”

he made a sound of disagreement.

“that is a big fat lie and you know it!”

you reached out to hit him and he dodged it, making a scene out of saying felix called him before hurrying away. you turned to minho.

“it’s not true.”

he shrugged, “it’s probably true.”

“it’s not!”

when you walked down the isle, minho could have swore his heart stopped. you looked gorgeous. the dress framed you perfectly and the delicate flower crown placed on your head looked just on you. he made a mental note to compliment whoever had planned your full outfit.

the closer you got, the more minho worried that your vows would be droned out by the sound of his heart beating against his rib cage.

you finally stepped in front of him, letting him get a clear view of you in your dress for the first time. you weren’t much better, speechless as you took in how handsome he looked. your felt your eyes began to well up at the realization of what was happening. who would have known you’d be crying from happiness, not disappointment or fear?

your eyes met minho’s own glassy ones and you let out a small laugh, speaking so only he could hear.

“i was right when i said you’d look hot in purple.”

[softcallofdutyimagines]

The crew with their soulmate headcannons

Ok, to make it up to y'all for the angst yesterday, here's a response to the death by broken heart post 😌

This one goes out to @smokeywhalee since I've had her crying for the past like three posts 💀💀😂 I also snuck in a little something to the Weaver one for @direwolfspostsrandomshit and I specifically 😌💅🏻

No warnings, just a very long post and lots of fluff lol

Adler

You two met when he was still young, before he even joined the CIA

Back when he was a goofy, carefree kid who didn't know better

You've been with him through so much by now, that he knows he can always count on you when something's bothering him

There's no one he trusts more in the whole world

Adler knew you were the one around the time he got his scars

He thought for sure you'd leave him, thinking he looked like some kind of monster with half his face bandaged and bloodied like it is

But when he came home from the hospital, you were so overjoyed to see him again, it's like the bandages weren't even there

You kissed his face and helped him clean and dress the stitches and cuts everyday until they healed

With you there to give him all that affection, he's never let his scars make him feel any less then handsome

Of course, it doesn't hurt that you remind him often

Even now, he never tires of you kissing his scars

Hudson

You and Hudson met in college, back when he was a shy, nerdy outcast

It's not like you were exactly popular, but you at least had some social circles to run in

He never thought someone like you would even look twice at someone like him, but...

He's been wrong before

One day you decided to give him a chance, maybe just see what his story is, and you've never looked back since

Hudson's life path calls for the utmost secrecy for nearly everything, and you've lost contact with a handful of people because of it

But you've never complained

If anything, you consider it their loss for losing you

That's how Hudson knew you were the one

You have an undefeatable, never give up attitude and can find the silver lining in just about everything you put your mind to

And of course... You indulge him in his love of head rubs

It's you and his best kept secret of all

Lazar

You've known each other since you were just kids

For him, it was puppy love at first sight, and he was crushing hard before he knew it

But... He was always insecure about his weight, being a bit chunky as a kid and all

He was afraid of rejection because of it

A shame really, since you would've loved him no matter what

But as fate would have it, you stayed friends all the way up until highschool where sports had him shedding weight like crazy

All the fluctuation has left him with stretch marks, some loose skin, and a belly pouch, but luckily growing up gave him enough confidence to make up for it

He asked you to the senior dance your last year of highschool, and later that night you shared your first kiss behind the bleachers outside

You were his first kiss ever

Lazar always knew you were the one

You've been his closest friend and biggest supporter since you were kids on a playground

He just wanted to make himself feel worthy of you first

No one else makes him feel as comfortable in his skin as you do, and only you are allowed the special honor of touching his body

A gift you exercise frequently when you cuddle him at night

Mason

Alex didn't meet you until after Vietnam and the whole... brainwashing business

After trying and trying for years only to end up with an ever growing list of failed relationships, he just assumed he was too damaged to love

Besides, he's getting a bit older now... Maybe he's just not meant to find someone

Or so he thinks

He meets you randomly in public, on an ordinary day in an ordinary place

You two happen to hit a conversation and it just keeps going and going...

Until finally you exchange numbers and begin seeing each other more frequently

And that's when Alex knows you're the one, he can just... feel it deep down

But it isn't until one, vulnerable night, when he tells you about his past and the war and.... Well, everything, that he knows for sure

With so much fear being pushed about the Russian threat and all that, he thought for sure the knowledge that he's been a brainwashed sleeper agent once would scare you away

It was a shock for sure, but... You aren't afraid of him, in fact, you feel sympathetic for his plight of anything

Alex doesn't need your sympathy, mind, but he is thankful for the empathy

That's all he wants, really

That, and someone who'll hold him through the nightmares at night

Looks like he lucked out there too :)

Park

She met you as a fellow agent through MI6

Things were purely professional for a looooong time

But she must admit though, you're quite charismatic, cunning, and frankly?

Adorable

Helen's not quite sure when the joking, friendly flirting turned serious but...

She's glad for it

You ask her out on a date first and things go well

More then well

She doesn't kiss and tell, but let's just say... She knows you're the one

You always have her back on the field and off

You're her closest friend and confident

She's breaking the rules by cluing you in on the goings on with the hunt for perseus and all, but there's no one here she trusts more for feedback and brainstorming

But it's probably a good thing you're not in the safehouse, considering you almost killed someone after the skyhook debacle

She rolls her eyes at your fussing, but you swear to never let her go again

And you know what? Park may not show it, but she loves how much you care for her

Perseus

He met you back in the ussr, when he still looked like his picture

You two grew close in your service to the government, and you were one of the first people he trusted to try and recruit for his operation

When you didn't even hesitate to say yes, that's when he knew you were the one

You've already proven yourself and impressed him with your wit and integrity in your service to the ussr

In fact, few have ever stood out to him in such a way as you have

All he needed to know was if you trusted him and truly believed in a better future

Many are jelous to see you running around with the exceptionally handsome man, but perseus was never one to get hung up on looks

However, he's glad you enjoy his appearance as much as you do his mind

Together, you raise hell for the capitalists, bringing a true biting edge to the cold war threat

In return for your loyalty, he does all he can to keep you a secret, both as his lover and his accomplice

If anything happened to you like what happened to Bell...

He would take the fight to your captors himself

And they wouldn't stand a chance...

Weaver

He met you through working in Requiem

You're one of the strike team operators, but you spend a fair amount of time talking with the consultants and himself back at base

Weaver finds you a little intimidating, but in a good kind of way

Sort of how he use to be back in the day

When he realizes he may or may not have a little thing for you, he suddenly becomes very shy

He's afraid to try and make a move on you because surely rejection would be the only outcome?

After all, he's way too far past his prime by now, missing an eye and slowly letting himself fall out of shape

It's a mess

So why haven't you just moved on from him yet...?

Doctor Grey seems strangely invested in this little one sided romance, so with a bit of help, he manages to ask you out for coffee

The last thing he expected was for you to say yes

It's not until the day that you almost don't make it back to base that he realizes how very much you mean to him

Weaver stays with you as frequently as he can while you recover and can often be found cuddling you in your med bay bed (bc why the hell not?) or at home

He has to pull back a little on visiting you in the med bay however

He's starting to get teased for how much he loves all the head pets, jaw scratches, and tummy rubs you give him while you're bored and resting

Carver has now begun addressing him as "Fido" with no end in sight

Woods

He meets you out at the marine base he spends all his time at

It was one of the many occasions that he was doing target practice at the range, and he today he's caught you watching him

At first he honestly didn't think much of it, but of course he took the opportunity to show off a little

He succeeded in managing to lure you over with his skills, where you came to stroke his ego a bit

For that, he offers to show you some pointers and before either of you know it, target practice together becomes a regular occurance

From there, anything more social is up to you to initiate

He's a bit taken aback when you invite him out to do something off base sometime, but... He accepts

Once out of his element, he's like a whole other person

You're surprised to find that he's a lot more shy and little more warm towards you

You find it adorable

That starts the slippery path to how he knows you're the one

You're the only person he truly feels like he can be himself with

Everyone else expects the hardened sargent, and while that is still him...

He never feels like he has an opportunity to share his softer side

You can never complain about being cold or lonely with him around

Frank loves nothing more then cuddling with you whenever and wherever he can

Not only is it just, well, nice, to have the human contact, but it makes him feel like he gets to protect you

And nothing makes him happier then to see you safe :)

[pluviophile-imagines]

LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

[last-night-is-a-blur]

Lois and Jon and action scenes

Okay, but why is it that S&L has forgotten how to make non-superpowered, non-Steel suit wearing characters usefule in fights? I know Jon and Lois don’t have combat training and despite supposedly being a star athlete Jon is only a 15 year old. I get them not being able to do much when attacked while they are unprepared and don’t have weapons on hand. I also get that when dealing with enemies with superspeed that it can be even harder to fight back, even if you are armed (like how Tal-Rho avoided Jon’s shot and Zeta-Rho disarmed him after that first hit). I don’t mind them having realistic limitations. As for Lois, I don’t mind her uselessness/defenselessness that much as much as long as the story has her contribute in terms of investigating and planning, though I would perfer her being used both in and outside of fight scenes. But I still want both to do something once in awhile during action scenes. So far (I might be wrong, I haven’t mananged to find the last several episodes, and I might be forgetting moments from the first half of s2, so please let me know if I missed anything) the only thing either of them have done during a fight scene is when Jon through Mickey’s keys away in 2x08. S1 however (and previous Arrowverse episodes in Lois’ case) gave them both a handful of moments where they joined the action. Jon hit two superpowered individuals with JHI’s gun. Lois tased a guy iirc. Jon caught Jordan’s punch in 1x06. Jon broke the red light lamp weakening Clark. Jon was in general quite useful in s1, especially considering his age and lack of experience with a lot what was going on that season. Before he hit the red light lamp, he helped Jordan with his superhearing and drove them to JHI’s and Clark’s location. He gave Jordan the final push to break free of Zeta-Rho’s control. In terms of Lois, I am not going to get into how much use she has in terms of investigating and planning in s2 compared to s1, because I haven’t watched nearly all of Superman and Lois episodes (bc I have trouble finding them online) and I focus more on the character driven and relationship centric aspect of the show (bc I watch S&L as a family drama with sci fi elements, not as superhero show), but from the spoilers for the last few episodes that I have seen, she doesn’t really do anything apart from inspiring Clark (which I am not downplaying, being able to push someone forward is a very useful).

Tl;dr: Why could the writers make Jon and Lois useful during dangerous situations in s1, but not in s2?

[krappykawa]

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.5)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more.

warnings. language

word count. 4.6k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. second to last part 😼😼 idk if you could call this angst but whatever it is will end next chap bc next chap will probably be teeth-rotting 😄

previously ...

“ You can feel Hanamaki stand straighter and you’re sure that he has the stupidest triumphant grin on his face. “No. Not until you stop crying over captain pretty face.”

“Y/N-chan’s crying over who now?”

You feel Makki freeze in the middle of his marching. Awkwardly, you turn to see Oikawa’s figure at the door from your position thrown over Hanamaki’s shoulder. You forgot that he was the only one that doesn’t knock.

Something in Oikawa’s expression is odd.

“Makki, fix this or I cut off your dick,” you whisper into his ear. He gulps.

“Oh, hey Shittykawa. We’re just helping Y/N with her captain pretty face problems,” Hanamaki says. You already don’t like the way that this is heading.  

“Who … exactly is .. captain pretty face?” Oikawa’s eyes are on you. The irony of the nickname is not lost on you. You can only hope that the words that come out of Hanamaki’s mouth next are not the words you’re dreading.

“Don’t worry. You’re not captain pretty face. Kaoru is!” The world does not seem to be on your side.

Oikawa’s smile drops and suddenly you have the urge to cut Makki’s dick off anyways, because he just made this a lot, lot worse. “

“Ah, so I’ve been replaced by another captain pretty face? Y/N-chan I’m wounded!” Oikawa closes the door behind him as he laughs, but the sound is hollowed and not at all what a genuine laugh of his sounds like. You shoot a look to Iwaizumi, but find that he’s scrutinizing Oikawa in the same way that you were just moments ago. 

With a light punch to his back from you, Makki slowly sets you back down onto your feet. You lift a hand to tidy your hair. 

“Makki’s lying. He’s just being a pain in the ass,” you reply. In saying that, you’re well aware of the fact that you’re potentially diving into dangerous territory. It would be too easy for Oikawa to decide that he wants to know more and possibly ask you the questions that you’re so dreading, but there’s something wrong about having him believe that you actually like Kaoru that you find more dreadful than potentially having to tell him about your year-long love for him. 

Oikawa sets his bag down next to a bin full of his things that he’d left over the years before turning back to look at you. The expression he meets you with is almost off-putting. The corners of his mouth are flicked upwards in what might be disapproval, but his eyes reflect something else - something akin to regret. “Is he really? I mean you have been spending quite a bit of time with Kaoru-kun as of late, haven’t you?”

His voice sounds like it’s dripping with lies, though you can’t quite understand why that’s so because he technically wasn’t lying. You decide that maybe you've just gotten so used to the realness of Oikawa that you forget that his natural tongue is fluent in lying. The only people that have ever been able to see right through his tone are all standing in this room. 

Inevitably, you find your eyes flicking to Makki’s. Oikawa notices. You see the facade drop the mildest bit. 

“I don’t. You know that you would be the first to know if I did,” you say. It’s true. Growing up, he’s always been the first to know about your crushes, no matter how small. He’s known about all crushes, except for one. Him himself. 

Something changes in his expression then. It’s a miniscule change - the slight upward tip to his lips that makes the almost imperceptible indent of a dimple peak out - but you’re so attuned to him that you know that means that his smile is genuine. “I’ll hold you to that Y/N-chan. Don’t you go around replacing me.”

The air in the room seems to sigh in relief. You turn your eyes away from him when you feel yourself start to smile. You don’t want to give Makki, Mattsun, or Iwaizumi anything to make fun of you for later on. 

“Cut the dramatics in front of them. It’s like you’re asking to get made fun of,” you say instead. 

Oikawa just shrugs. “According to Iwa-chan, just having this face is already asking to get made fun of, so there’s really no big difference.”

Iwaizumi snorts from his position on the couch. “I said that your face when you look dumb is asking to get made fun of, but it’s good that you’re self aware.”

Oikawa sticks a tongue out at him.

“As mature as always captain,” Mattsun says. 

Oikawa flicks his gaze to Matsukawa before he says, “Hm, that reminds me. Y/N-chan please accompany me to the kitchen.” He’s already walking to the kitchen without waiting for a response. 

You exchange looks with Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki. Hanamaki has the decency to look apologetic. You make hand motions at him that elicits a chuckle from Matsukawa.

When you enter the kitchen, Oikawa has a cup of ice and a handkerchief sitting on the counter. He’s carefully dropping a few ice cubes into the middle of the handkerchief.

“What’s that for?”

He’s quiet as he finishes and wraps the handkerchief around the ice. “Close your eyes,” he says softly as he walks towards you and presses the cold ice against your eyes. “You were crying before I got here.”

You stay quiet. Of course he noticed. 

“What happened? Are you sure Makki was lying? You can tell me you know, if something happened with Kaoru.”

You let out a breath and allow the cold of the ice against your eyes ease you into a lie. “I wasn’t crying over Kaoru. They just found out that he walked me home today and decided to roll with it. I’m really just exhausted from classes.”

The hand that Oikawa was using to dab at your eyes suddenly stops. “Kaoru … walked you home? From the bakery?”

Slowly, you let your eyes flutter open, your puffing eyes already missing the cold of the ice against your eyelids. Oikawa’s eyes are trained on you, and you get that odd feeling that he’s searching you for answers. You’ve found that he’s been doing that a lot as of late - this whole reading instinct he uses for people he’s just met. You still aren’t used to him using it on you. 

You flick your eyes away from his and break the eye contact. Instead, you look at his hand and reach up to take the ice pack from him. He hands it to you gently and takes a step back. You watch him as he clears his throat and moves to disappear behind the fridge door. 

“Yeah, he did walk me home,” you pause, debating with yourself about telling him. “I think he came to ask me on a date, actually.”

You think you imagine Oikawa’s body stopping mid-movement. “Did you say yes?”

“No. He asked if I was free today. I told him that I already made plans with you four.”

“Oh,” Oikawa says as he pulls out a cup of mint chocolate chip. 

“Yeah.”

As he makes himself busy with finding a spoon, you lean against the counter and continue to press the ice against your eyes. Oikawa sneaks a glance at you. “If he asked again, and you didn’t have plans. Would you say yes?”

His voice is unnaturally quiet. You aren’t sure what to do with that knowledge. 

“Probably not. I broke up with him for a reason.”

A noise of agreement comes from Oikawa. “You said that you two didn’t click.”

“We don’t.”

A comfortable silence engulfs you two as Oikawa leans against the counter next to you. You try not to watch him as he takes a bite of ice cream and unintentionally smiles, his eyes looking serene for the first time in a while. Instead, you make yourself busy with alternating the ice pack between your eyes, though now you were mostly just doing it so that you had something to do other than get the urge to stare at him. 

After a moment, Oikawa speaks again. “I still don’t believe for one second that you were only crying because of school.”

You let the hand holding the ice pack finally fall to your side. “Well you better believe it then because it’s the truth.”

“Maybe. But I get the feeling that it’s a half truth.”

“Half truths aren’t all bad.”

“So I’m right.”

You make yourself busy with throwing the ice into the sink as you scramble your head for a decent lie. “Bad day at the bakery. I fucked up the honey buns.”

Oikawa hums. “So now it’s a two-thirds truth.”

The other third is that I’m in love with your dumbass and you’ll never know.

“That’s it. Promise.”

Oikawa switches tactics. “Y/N-channn. You’re lying to me.”

“Tooruuuu. I’m not lying to you,” you say as you roll your eyes. 

“Yes you are. You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Tapping your right middle finger on your thigh.”

“I do that?” You look down and find that you were indeed tapping your finger against your thigh. You start to wonder how many other times he could detect your lies, but for the sake of your sanity, you decide not to dwell on it.

He reaches down and stops your tapping finger with his own hand. The moment lasts too long -- feels too personal. You pull your hand away and take a step back so that you’re leaning against the opposite counter. 

“Whatever. I’m telling the truth.”

“Sure you are.”

“I am!”

“Mhm. Lies, lies , lies,” Oikawa says playfully. “Sorry for not being here earlier. I got caught up in playing this new game Takeru bought. You should’ve called me over. I would’ve come in a heartbeat if I knew that you were having a hard time.”

You make a waving motion with your hand. “It’s fine really. I just got overwhelmed by stuff. No big deal.”

Oikawa frowns. The sight doesn’t look natural on his usually smiling face. “Stop putting yourself down like that. I don’t care how small you think your problem is. If it makes you cry, then it’s worth talking about.”

“Don’t get all team captain ‘Kawa on me. I appreciate it, I really do. But this time it really wasn’t a big deal.”

He scoffs in disbelief. “I walked in and your eyes looked redder than Mattsun’s ass after I accidentally hit him with a serve.”

“How the fuck would you know that?”

“Don’t question what goes on in the locker room.”

A laugh bubbles up from your lips and you have to tip your head back so that Oikawa doesn’t make fun of the way your face contorts as you laugh. When your laughter finally dies down, you look back to see that Oikawa’s staring at you again. He’s looking at you like you’re an opponent he can’t quite get a read on. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” he pauses. “Do you think I should invite Hishoko next time? You know … to be a .. good boyfriend.”

Suddenly it hits you again. It hits you that you can’t just live in this perfect little bubble where you and Oikawa are making jokes at each other in your kitchen forever. It hits you that this Oikawa - the Oikawa that’s so very real and rough around the edges but makes you laugh louder than anyone - isn’t yours. It hits you that while he might look at you one way, he might look at Hishoko in a completely different way that you have never been privy to. 

It rips you back to reality, and suddenly you’re aware of the voices in the living room and how Makki and Iwa seem to be fighting over whatever movie’s better. 

“Oh yeah. I don’t mind.” You smile up at him with the most convincing smile you can. Suddenly, the thought of spending one more minute in this kitchen with him and getting lost in this perfect little bubble makes you want to cry all over again. “We should head back. I think hell’s going down over there,” you say lightly. 

Before he can even get a word out, you’re already making a beeline for the living room. You try to slow your steps to a normal pace when you start towards where Iwaizumi is now sitting on the floor. You make sure to make him move over so that you can sit on the side where the couch ends so that Oikawa can’t sit next to you. 

“Fucking finally. Don’t ever leave me in a room with Makki and Iwaizumi ever again,” Matsukawa says. You laugh a little when you notice that he’s saying that while being sprawled across Makki’s lap. 

“It’s not my fault that Hanamaki can’t appreciate a cinematic masterpiece.”

“Hate to break it to you Iwa, but Godzilla vs. The Cosmic Monster isn’t anyone’s favorite movie.”

Oikawa’s voice joins in as you hear steps from the kitchen. “Makki, that movie’s a fucking masterpiece. Please shut your mouth.”

You try not to listen to the way Oikawa’s steady steps back into the living room come to a halt when he notices your choice of seat. 

He looks up at the stars twinkling against the blackened blue of the contrasting night sky with a heavy sigh. Oikawa always felt a sense of stability and tranquility when looking up at the sky, as if it was a reminder that his life was just a minuscule dot in the cloth of the universe. That maybe, his worries were something so small that he needn’t have to worry about them. 

He remembers the way that the night sky was his company when his father had left so early on in his life, or when his sister had come home crying because she had a human growing inside of her and the man she was supposed to marry left her in the same fashion that their own father had, or when he thought that maybe his love for volleyball would have to be ripped from him after his injury in his first year. 

He hopes to look up at the dark indigo of the sky and feel that same tranquility. For just a moment. It does. 

But even now, as his chest rises softly, he can still feel the unease weighing on him. 

The night went by unnaturally fast for a night with you, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. After a few fights between the guys, all five of you finally sat down and got around to watching the movie (which, to Oikawa’s distaste, was some old film from the 60s that Matsukawa had picked because he was drawn to the odd looking cover). 

The movie came and went with more than a few complaints from him. It was the type of movie that he especially hated - the kind with a plot that made absolutely zero sense and had an ending that made Oikawa want to rewind the last two hours because he just couldn’t believe he spent 2 hours of his life trying to figure out what the hell was going on just for it to not have a satisfactory ending. 

He wouldn’t put the bad movie down as the reason for his irritable mood, but if anyone asked, it would be the answer that they’d get. 

Nobody else seemed to be particularly fond of the horrendous movie either (except for Matsukawa, who insisted that they just simply did not have to brain to appreciate the masterpiece. Makki just insisted that the movie was a pile of shit, which Oikawa found himself agreeing with). 

Soon after, the five of you found yourselves cramped into your tiny kitchen, which really should never happen again, if the glass that broke after getting knocked over was any indication. It only really happened because Matsukawa swore that he could create the best soup they’d ever put anywhere near their mouths, but that plan went up in flames. Literally.

The incident of Makki almost setting off the fire alarm seemed to sober everyone up, as if whatever energy had previous possessed the five of you had suddenly run out. Oikawa didn’t mind too much, considering the rest of the night was spent watching reruns of one of your favorite shows that he was particularly fond of. 

What he did mind however, was the way that you seemed to decide to avoid him for the entire night. He was sure that Iwa, Mattsun, and Makki must’ve noticed, but by some odd agreement, nobody dared speak a word about it.

He tried not to think about anything whenever he felt his eyes drift down to where you were huddled against Iwaizumi’s side, a position that had been his and yours for as long as he could remember. He tried not to think about it then because he was sure that if he did, he’d end up saying something he didn’t mean to say. 

He knew that he’d have to think about this in the silence of his own thoughts where there’s nothing but his own annoying emotions chiming in. 

So now he’s here, sitting on a bench in your backyard and staring up at the sky like it’ll give him the answer to whatever question he wanted answered. 

He hadn’t meant to bring up Hishoko, he really hadn’t. He just remembered the way his stomach fluttered once more at the sound of your laugh and the way it made him panic, because for the love of everything he wasn’t supposed to feel like that. 

“Oikawa?”

Oikawa tears his gaze from the sky and turns to meet Iwaizumi’s head as he slips through the door. He must not have heard the door open. “Hey Iwa-chan. I couldn’t sleep.”

Iwaizumi lets out a low chuckle as he walks to where Oikawa’s seated in the middle of your rock garden. He takes a seat next to Oikawa on the bench. “Leave it to you to be the only one that stays up when everyone else crashed two hours ago.”

“Mhm. Why are you awake? Last I checked you were as passed out as the rest of them,” Oikawa says with his gaze still flickering over the stars. 

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Had to use the bathroom and then realized that you weren’t anywhere to be found.”

Oikawa seizes the moment to don his cheeky smile, turning his head from the stars and to Iwaizumi’s sleep-ridden face. “Awe you worried about me Iwa-chan?”

The reaction he gets from Iwaizumi is an eyeroll, but Oikawa doesn’t expect any less. “After you spent the night looking like you were one second away from an existential crisis? Yeah I did.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond to that. He wonders if you noticed too. 

“Spit it out.”

He ponders with himself for a moment, wondering if it’s a good idea to finally just talk about it with someone. He decides that if there’s anyone he’d talk about this with, he’s glad it’s with Iwaizumi. “It’s about Y/N and Hishoko.”

Iwa doesn’t miss a beat, as if he was expecting that. “Mm. What about them?”

“I think I made a mistake.”

“You make a lot of those, ‘Kawa.”

“No, I mean, I shouldn’t have accepted Hishoko’s confession when the only reason I did it was because I didn’t know how I was feeling. It’s not fair to her that the only reason I’m with her is because I’m too cowardly to decide how I felt after I ...” Oikawa trails off, unsure if you’d be okay with Iwaizumi knowing. 

It seems he doesn’t have to worry because Iwaizumi finishes his sentence for him. “Kissed Y/N?”

Oikawa’s head turns to Iwaizumi. “You know about that?”

“She told me, yeah.”

“Why … why would she tell you that?”

“You’re not fucking dense, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says with a side glance at his best friend. “I think you know the answer to that.”

For a moment Oikawa considers the possibility that you did feel the same way (a fantasy he’s entertained more times than he’s willing to admit), but he knows that he has to get this out now, has to figure it out and solidify what he feels for you now, because he won’t be able to stand it if he has to keep tiptoeing around you because he’s a fool that can’t admit his own feelings to himself.  

The question that comes out of his mouth next isn’t exactly what he meant to ask, but now that it’s out in the open, Oikawa guesses that maybe that’s the question that’s been holding him back this whole time. “What if I mess up?”

“Mess up how?”

He sighs. “I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to relationships.” So far, out of the six relationships he’s had, only two of them will even look at him without disdain, and one of those is his current girlfriend. 

“No shit,” Iwaizumi snorts. 

Oikawa fakes a pout before crossing his arms. “You could’ve at least pretended to disagree.”

“When you’re out here moping because of it? No I won’t.”

A silence falls over the two of them. Oikawa can feel his own breathing synced up with Iwaizumi and finds that it clears his head a little bit. He gets the feeling that Iwaizumi isn’t going to talk again until he does. 

“Hishoko’s great, really she is,” Oikawa starts again. “But I just-“ He lets out a frustrated sigh, slumping further down against the bench. 

Iwaizumi hums. “Don’t like her like that? Because there’s someone else?”

Oikawa blinks, still slumped down like a limp noodle. “When you put it that way it sounds so uncomplicated.”

“Because it is.”

Oikawa ponders that. Maybe it is that simple, but for how confident he is about everything else in life, he’s never had a firm grip on romance or how to deal with it. He always seemed to do the exact opposite of what anyone with a good instinct would do. 

He’s read enough shoujo manga with you to know that love isn’t as easy as “kiss and live happily ever after”, especially if that love is with your best friend. A shoujo manga he especially remembered liking in first year was of a story of best friends that fell in love, but as fate had it, they fell in love with the right person at the wrong time. 

That manga really shouldn’t be something he compares his own love life to, but he can’t help but worry, especially given his past relationships. Oikawa doesn’t usually feel such anxiety about jumping into relationships (mainly because the relationships he did get into were never relationships he really took as seriously as he should), but now he feels that shadow of insecurity come lurking back like a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. It seems he can never escape his own fear of never being enough.

“But Y/N’s different,” he finally says after a hefty silence. “Most of my exes hate me now because of how badly I keep messing up. I don’t know what I’ll do if I mess up with her.”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms tighter. “Y/N’s been through tons of your bullshit. She won’t give up on you that easily, as long as you don’t colossally fuck up.”

Oikawa nods, but there’s already another question bugging him. “How can I be sure that I love her like that? I mean, I remember thinking that I loved Yua, but now that I look back, I wonder if that was only because she was the only relationship I had that kept me around for so long.”

He doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that he might mess up that badly - that he’ll take back his feelings for you within a few days like he’s been known for in past relationships. Oikawa thinks that that would most definitely count as a colossal fuck up. 

“I’m not trying to label your feelings or anything, but I think you’ve been in love with her for a long time now,” Iwaizumi says in the softest voice Oikawa’s ever heard it be in the years he’d known him.  “I just think you’re only starting to realize it because well, you said you kissed right?”

“We did.”

“Then yeah, that probably woke your brain up a little.”

“She’s not just a case of raging hormones,” Oikawa replies. 

“I know she’s not,” Iwaizumi says mildly. “I’m just saying that sometimes you don’t realize that you feel like that for someone until something happens that forces you to think about it. For you, it was probably that kiss.”

Oikawa knows that Iwaizumi is probably remembering his own experience with Hanamaki. The look of heartbreak on his best friend’s face when they found Matsukawa and Hanamaki with their lips locked against the side of the school building was not one he would easily forget. He wonders if Iwaizumi knew the extent of his feelings before that moment or if he went through something similar to what Oikawa’s going through.

The remembrance of Iwaizumi’s past feelings also makes Oikawa wonder if he’s felt like this toward you even before all this, just like he knew of Iwaizumi’s feelings for Hanamaki before Iwaizumi himself did. 

“I think I would’ve noticed if I felt things towards her before all this. Maybe not a lot, but I would’ve noticed to some extent.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “No you wouldn’t. You’ve got the mind of a genius when it comes to volleyball, but when it comes to any aspect of your life that isn’t volleyball, then your brain is like a pile of horseshit.”

“Iwa-chan, so mean!”

“I’m right and you know it.”

“No you aren’t,” Oikawa says, though he’s not so sure he believes himself. 

“You’ve centered your whole life on volleyball ‘Kawa. You’ve neglected shit about yourself because of volleyball. I’ve seen it, Y/N’s seen it. Volleyball is the center of your mind and everything kinda revolves around it like a solar system. But once you get used to something being a small little planet in that tiny brain of yours, you just accept it as a natural part of your thinking because the big old volleyball is still vying for your attention.”

“Please, Iwa-chan. It’s two in the morning. Please speak in a language I can understand.”

“You loved her when we were kids, right?” Iwaizumi pauses and Oikawa just nods. “Then your love and feelings for her were put into this nice bubble labeled ‘positive feelings’ and you never realized when you might’ve started looking at her differently because being in love with her is still a positive feeling.”

“And I’ve been so focused on volleyball and practice that I didn’t even notice?”

Iwaizumi raises a brow at Oikawa. “Are you trying to say that you haven’t neglected parts of your life before for volleyball?”

“Okay, good point.”

Iwaizumi’s explanation does make sense to him, now that Oikawa has something to latch his thought process on. He always liked having you around, and you had become one of the anchors that kept him from breaking over the years. He’s always known that being around you gave him ounces of joy, but he never really looked further into it because well .. Iwaizumi was right. 

It was in the way where he unknowingly looked for your figure in the stands when he won the Best Setter award back in junior high. He hadn’t really noticed because he thought he’d always done that.

It was in the way that he would sometimes head to your place after a particularly grueling practice just to make rice cakes for the both of you because he was so exhausted that the only thing he wanted to do is see your smile as you compliment his cooking. He hadn’t really noticed that he got giddy at that prospect because he felt as if he’d always felt like that.

It was in the way that he would sometimes lay his head on your shoulder and only focus on your breathing because it calmed him down in ways that nothing else can. He hadn’t really noticed that he was doing so because he’s always done that.

You had become a positive constant in his life and loving you one way or another became the default. He just hadn’t been paying close enough attention to when it was that the hugs, the support, the little glances, and the nights spent falling asleep on each other might have become something more than the childish blind love he held for you as children. And then that kiss came along and hit him like a volleyball to the face. 

With that, he finally lets himself admit it to himself, with no qualms or worries about how he might find a way to mess up. He lets himself admit that he might be a tiny bit in love with you.

It almost hits him like a truck then because huh, he’s in love with you. And yet, he doesn’t feel so different, he just feels lighter. 

“Huh.”

“You finally figured it out then?”

Oikawa smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I did.” 

A smile finds its way onto Iwaizumi’s lips. “Happy to see it, asshole. Just don’t keep her waiting on you for another three years.”

“I won’t. I don’t plan on wasting any more time now that I finally figured it out.”

“How do you plan on telling her then?”

“That I love her?”

“You love her?” A voice that’s not Iwaizumi’s nearly jolts him from his seat. He’d know that voice anywhere. 

He turns to find you standing not far from where he and Iwaizumi are seated and feels the color drain from his face. 

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next chapter is the final chapter :D if you wanna be added to the taglist for the last chap then just send an ask!

[cinebration]

Promise to Keep (Eames x Reader) [Request]

Hiya! Could you do Eames x reader drabble? The reader was the team's architect before Ariadne, and Eames has always had feelings for her but he's genuinely a dick so she never knew. She comes back briefly to teach Ariadne the ropes and Eames tries desperately to get her to stay. Something cute, but also annoying bc he really is a beautifully arrogant man. Love your work!!! — Requested by anon

Warnings: none

Gif Source: dicapriho

Eames returned to Cobbs’s base of operations after a long night of shadowing Browning to find the place dark but for one well-lit corner. Voices drifted across the space. One belonged to Ariadne, the newest addition to the team.

The other stopped him cold in his tracks.

“You have to have your own secrets and tricks that are unique to you,” the voice said.

He couldn’t believe it. Approaching as quietly as possible, he rounded the corner to see Ariadne seated in a chair, notebook balanced on one knee…

And you, perched on the edge of the table, for a moment carefree, engaged in your craft with a smile on your face that made Eames’s heart skip painfully.

Then you saw him, and the smile slipped, your shoulders squaring and your feet touching the ground. “Eames.”

He couldn’t even breathe your name for fear it was a dream. How long had it been since you had left?

“You two know each other?” Ariadne asked.

“Sure,” you said. “We used to work together.”

Clearing his throat, Eames smiled, only the corners of it shaky. “That we did. Cobbs hired her on for nickels and dimes.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Whereas Eames came begging for work to get out of debt.”

Eames feigned a wince. “I see your tongue is still scathing.”

“And yours no less silver.”

Ariadne glanced between you both, slowly closed her notebook. “Maybe I should leave.”

“I have nothing much left to teach you anyway,” you said. “Arthur can teach you the rest.”

“Thank you, again.”

“Of course.”

Waving timidly at Eames, Ariadne hurried from the building, leaving you and Eames alone. Eames perched himself on the edge of the table, facing you. Your arms folded across your chest.

“How long have you been teaching her?” he asked.

“Two weeks.”

Eames’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Cobb never told me.”

“Why would he? It wasn’t relevant.”

“You and I have different ideas of what constitutes relevant.”

You snorted, shook your head. As you looked away, Eames took in your profile. It hadn’t much changed in the years since you had left, except for maybe a tinge of sadness and a stiffness in the neck he didn’t understand.

Fidgeting in the silence, you said, “You know why Cobb brought me on, right?”

“Enlighten me.”

“he can’t trust himself.”

A mild twinge of alarm courses through him. “Is that your professional opinion?”

Trying not to snort, you continued, “He can’t teach Ariadne everything, because he’ll know the secrets. But he can’t use me because he knows most of mine.”

“If he had asked you to do this, would you have accepted?”

You hesitated. “Perhaps. But inception? I don’t know.”

“You don’t think it’s possible?”

“I don’t think it’s prudent.”

His eyebrows arched again. “You’re a far cry from the woman I knew.”

“I’ve been offering security consulting,” you answered in clipped tones.

“Ah.”

“Not all of us find it fulfilling to waste our time and luck in gambling dens.”

He grinned. “Oh, how I’ve missed this.”

“I haven’t,” you lied.

But he could see right through it, could see you fighting against an answering smirk on your lips.

“For all you know,” you continued, trying to conceal it, “I may have trained your client.”

“Did you?”

“I’m afraid that is privileged information.”

He chuckled in that low, sultry tone of his. “Alright, then. Have it your way. It’s more fun that way.”

“It’s always about fun with you, isn’t it?”

“What’s the point of life if you don’t find the humor in it?”

You nodded, but the tightness had returned to your mouth. Chest constricting, Eames kicked himself inwardly. He groped for something to say.

“Well,” you said in the silence, pushing yourself off the table, “I’d better be going.”

“So soon? We’ve hardly had a reunion.”

“Do we need one?”

The question cut him to the core. He covered it with a wry smile. “Why not? Surely Arthur would appreciate your droll company.”

“Droll? How flattering.”

It is to me, he thought. He watched you pack up an attaché case you had brought, secreting notebooks inside.

“What I’m hearing,” he said, desperate to slow your progress, “is you don’t build anymore.”

“I do.”

“But not for anything fun.”

“Fun again,” you mumbled. “No, I suppose not. But I enjoy the work.”

“I can’t imagine wasting my talent and energy on consulting. No imagination involved.”

You turned to him, one eyebrow arched. “Oh, really! You don’t think it’s exciting to look into the minds of some of the richest and influential people on the planet?”

His lips pulled into a genuine grin. There was the woman he knew, unable to resist the inner secrets of those whose dreams you hijacked.

You nearly matched the smile, then caught yourself. Clearing your throat, you nodded as though to yourself and clasped the case shut.

Anxiety spiked again in Eames’s chest. He stood suddenly, circling around you to block your path. “Cobb says Ariadne is the best Architect he’s seen.”

Hurt flickered across your face. “Yes, she is talented.”

“Yet he’ll have Arthur crush her creativity.”

“I doubt he’ll be capable of that. She is a creative force.”

“But only as an Architect.”

You frowned. “What are you getting at, Eames?”

How he loved the sound of his name on your lips. “Are you sure Cobb didn’t ask you back because he knows you? Or because your skill is lacking?”

You drew back, your jaw clenching. “Scathing as ever, you are.”

“Scathing? Never.”

You tried to step past him. He let you walk a few steps before stepping in front of you again, walking backward so as not to break your pace.

“All I’m saying is that you aren’t merely an Architect.”

“No, I’m a consultant.”

“Then consult.” He stopped, making you stop as well. “Arthur could use some help in the creativity department.”

Your tone bit. “Well, between you and Ariadne, he’ll have plenty of help in spades.”

“She’s too fresh, and he doesn’t much appreciate my advice—nor my methods.”

“Unless Cobb asks, I won’t offer my services.”

“Why not? There is such a lack of creativity on this team, I can’t be expected to shoulder it alone.”

You shook your head, chuckling dryly to yourself. For a moment, Eames held his breath, hoping he had succeeded in convincing you to stay.

Then you frowned, peering up at him with a gaze so intense he nearly fell to his knees. “I left, Eames. I’m not needed here.”

You pushed past him, concealing your own hurt. You didn’t see the pain in Eames’s face, too concerned about escaping the base of operations and returning to your life of safety.

“Stay.”

Your steps faltered. Turning back to him, you stared at his silhouette, the light behind him. He stepped forward slowly, shifting until the light fell across his face. He had spoken the word with such seriousness that you wondered if it was a trick, an actor’s trick. But he remained quiet, his eyes boring into yours.

No trick.

Your heart stuttering in your chest, you asked, “You really think you can incept this client?”

“Absolutely.”

You spoke slowly, choosing your words with care. “If you do incept him—successfully—then I will come back.”

Eames’s full lips parted, a faint hint of surprise and relief on his face. You smiled weakly at him, shaken by his naked emotion, and left him standing there in the semi-dark.

~~

Eames stood at the door to the vault, watched Robert Fischer reach into the safe as the dream crumbled around them both. Eames’s heart beat furiously.

Robert tilted up the pinwheel. Tears coursed down his cheeks.

The faintest of smiles twitched at Eames’s lips.

You had a promise to keep.

[writesowhatnext]

talk trash, get brass // george weasley

Summary: someone bad-mouthing George has make him a little insecure – it’s definitely time for the reader to step in

Request: can i request fred or george dating the reader and she's with her friends and he overhears one of them talking shit about him [he's worried y/n will agree and gets sad :(] but she defends him and says she genuinely loves him 😘 thanks xx

A/N: this took me forever because I can’t choose between the twins but also I was fighting making it a slytherin!reader bc the slytherin girls are written as catty bitches which would make this easier but we move also I wrote planked by his ravenclaw buddies and nearly had a stroke also I dragged Michael Corner’s character through the mud #sorrynotsorry also have I miraculously forgotten how to write in character????

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: swearing, bad friends, argument

“Fred,” you said, finding him in the Great Hall with half of a ham sandwich stuffed into his mouth. “Why is George ignoring me?”

He rolled his eyes when you sat down, watching him with an expectant look as you drummed your fingers impatiently on the table.

“Lovely to see you too, Y/N,” he said, wetting his lips and waving the other half of his sandwich around in his hand as he spoke. “Me? Yeah, I’m doing just swell actually, cheers for asking. No, I wanted the beef really but McLaggen took the last one, the thieving bastard.”

You shot him a dry look, grinding your teeth together. He rolled his eyes again at your raised eyebrows.

“Not in the mood for jokes then, are we?”

“How would you know?” you asked, huffing. “You haven’t told me any.”

“Ouch,” he whined, placing his hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You wound me.”

You sighed, brushing your hair back from your face as your shoulders slumped.

“Come on, Fred. I know you know why he’s been avoiding me.”

For a moment, Fred didn’t reply. He just stared at you, gauging your expression with his level gaze. To say you were surprised would’ve been an understatement; serious Fred was not something you were well accustomed to.

“I don’t have a clue,” he said, leaning back and throwing the rest of his sandwich lazily on his plate. You scoffed.

“Bullshit, tell me.”

“Go ask George,” he replied quickly, gripping the edge of the table with his hands as your voices got louder.

“I can’t ask George, can I, Fred? He’s the one bloody ignoring me!”

You swore sometimes that Fred and George had one brain cell between them and even that could be a bit of a stretch.

“Fine then,” Fred threw his hands up indignantly. “Ask your friend Michael! I’m sure he knows all about it!”

“What?” you said quietly, visibly taken aback, your shoulders slumping. Fred groaned, his hands coming up to hide his face.

“I definitely wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“What did Michael do?”

Fred looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, wilting under your determined stare.

“Fred…” you said, your tone decidedly warning.

“Your mate Michael was talking bollocks about George to all his Ravenclaw buddies – which is quite rich isn’t it, really? Coming from him, the little toad. Can’t believe he dated Cho Chang; I heard Ginny might be going for him as well… pfft, there’s no accounting for- oi, where are you going?”

You barely caught the end of Fred’s rant, already racing out of the Great Hall, undecided as to whether you were in search of Michael or George first. The universe chose for you, though, when you spotted Michael circling around a corridor, flanked by some of his Ravenclaw friends.

You and Michael were more acquaintances than friends. Truth be told, you only talked to him to start with to help Ginny out; she’d been looking for someone to help her get over her crush on Harry. You thought it was futile given how much she liked him, but you were always happy to help out a friend. It appeared though, that not everybody you called your friend was as friendly. Michael had been fine for a while and you found that sometimes you did actually get on with him, especially when there was nobody else around to talk to. Now, though, now you were questioning your standards.

“Hey!” you yelled, immediately drawing the attention of Michael, his friends, and the rest of the corridor. “Michael!”

“You okay, Y/N?” he asked and as you looked at him, genuine concern written all over his features, all you wanted to do was punch him.

“What have you been saying about George?”

He looked confused for a second and then guilty, and then a haughty look lifted his nose up and you were really, at that second, re-evaluating your decision not to hit him.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he said, smiling. “You can’t be serious.”

You stepped closer to him; your hand lowered just in case you needed easy access to your wand.

“Tell me what you said about my boyfriend. I know you said something, so tell me, now.”

He looked to his friends as if considering whether you were actually serious before he scoffed.

“All I said was that you were way too smart to be with a bloke as dumb as him,” you huffed, fists clenching at his words. “I’m not wrong, Y/N, those twins are bad news and they’re hardly boyfriend-“

“Hey, Michael,” you said, trying desperately to control yourself as you frowned, head ticking to the side. “Do you remember two years ago when the Slytherin common room was pink for two weeks?”

He frowned, nervously glancing at his friends. “Sure,” he said, though he seemed anything but.

“Do you remember how they had to get Dumbledore himself to fix it because none of the other teachers could figure out how to make it green again. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, why? What’s that got-“

“George did that. He used about eight different cloaking spells and spent weeks convincing Nearly Headless Nick to help him and Fred. Could you do that?”

He opened his mouth, but you weren’t finished. Ever since you started dating George, everyone seemed to have an opinion and you were tired of it.

“No, Michael, you couldn’t.”

With your voice raised and your determined gaze directed solely at Michael and his Ravenclaw buddies, all looking very uncomfortable, you didn’t even notice George lurking behind you.

“And you know that time that nobody could figure out how the Gryffindor Quidditch Team knew everything about the Ravenclaw strategies? That was George too. Between him and Fred, they made these things,” you found yourself getting distracted as you remembered how impressed you’d been. “These ears that you can use over massive, unprecedented distances to eavesdrop on people. That technology is legendary, regardless of what it’s used for.”

“And so,” you huffed, adjusting your robes as you leant back, aware that maybe you were being too hard on him. “You can shove your opinion, because George Weasley, my George, he’s a bloody genius. And he’s not bad news. He’s the kindest, sweetest guy and you’d be lucky to be half as patient or funny or amazing as him, alright, Michael?”

Michael looked taken aback by your outburst and even you were slightly surprised at your rant. His friends were equally caught off guard. Well, most of them. The boy on the right of him frowned, rolling his eyes. You wouldn’t have caught it had he not muttered under his breath.

“Weasley can’t fight his own battles, then?”

“What the fuck did you just say?” you reached for your wand and the boys in front of you stumbling backwards to avoid you. Before you could make them eat slugs like you so desperately wanted to, a hand caught your wrist. You spun around, brows furrowed at whoever was stopping you until you saw George’s face, all freckles and gentleness. All the anger that you’d had flooded away as he looked over your shoulder at the three Ravenclaw boys.

“I reckon you should piss off, now, don’t you?”

He didn’t have to tell them twice; within seconds they had disappeared down the corridor before you could hex them properly.

You turned to George as he slid his hand down your wrist to interlock your fingers together.

“Telling everyone my top-secret pranks, are we?” he asked, a crooked smile on his lips.

“Finally, not ignoring me anymore, are we?” you mimicked in the same tone, regretting it slightly as he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“I’m sorry.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, your noses touching.

“I thought you’d agree with him, didn’t I?” he said quietly, pulling his top lip between his teeth. “I knew he was your friend-“

“He’s bloody not anymore, that’s for certain. He’s lucky I didn’t send him to Madam Pomfrey.”

Your anger sparked again thinking about it, but as always, George’s warm hand rubbing up and down your arm washed it away and you looked at him to see him already smiling at you.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because you think I’m kind and sweet and funny and drop-dead gorgeous.”

You smiled, shoving at him with your intertwined hands.

“I don’t remember saying you were funny. Or gorgeous.”

“I do. It was right before you called me amazing. And besides, gorgeous is bit of a given, isn’t it?”

You made a face at the way he flicked his hair and rolled your eyes but you couldn’t keep the fond smile off your face no matter how hard you tried.

“You really thought I’d agree with him?” you asked quietly, picking at your bottom lip with your teeth. He avoided your eyes. “Georgie.”

He sighed, facing you properly, his eyes trailing down your face.

“Everyone knows how out of my league you are, love,” he said, stroking your cheek with the back of his finger. “Just felt like I was punching above my weight, didn’t I?”

“Well,” you whispered, letting go of his hand to cup his cheeks. “Whilst I am objectively much better looking-“

He pinched your side, earning a grunt in response before his palms settled on your waist.

“I love you,” You pressed a kiss to his left cheek and then right. “And that,” another kiss to his nose then forehead. “Is all that matters.”

You finally pecked him on the lips, happy to see him smiling again, happy to hear his voice.

“So,” you grinned. “If anyone says anything else, just send them to me.”

“Oh, I will,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “I like it when you get all feisty. Especially over me.”

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