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shotoh · 1 year ago

Text

— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer

feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)

notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters

ITOSHI RIN

the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.

pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.

whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.

as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.

“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.

before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.

“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.

“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.

“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.

“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.

you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”

the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”

you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.

his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.

“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”

his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.

NAGI SEISHIRO

back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.

he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.

“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”

taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.

it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.

he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”

once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.

as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.

well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.

what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.

but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.

“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.

“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”

nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.

“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you’re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.

nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.

ITOSHI SAE

the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.

“excuse me! please let me through–!”

“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”

the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.

spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”

to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.

“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”

“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.

“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”

“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”

his manager gawks. “but..?!”

one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.

sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.

“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.

sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.

during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.

there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.

at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.

the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.

“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.

sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”

mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.

he puts it simply.

“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin x reader #sae x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #rin fluff #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #nagi fluff #sae fluff #blue lock headcanons #sae itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 1 month ago

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐋♡𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 [Tension]

You're both not who you pretend to be.

Tags/Warnings: Fuckboy!Jungkook, Fuckgirl!Reader, Angst, Misunderstandings, Friends/Enemies to lovers, Very suggestive, adult, hurt and comfort, smut, did I mention angst? It's worth it in the end tho promise,

Length: 4k Words + Next Chapter preview

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: Idk anymore I'll write what I want.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

While Jungkook isn’t pushy, he definitely isn’t letting go either.

Any chance he can get at spending time with you, he takes- just like now, as he’s kneeled on the floor, currently taking apart some of your furniture for you since you’ve cut one of your hands by accident a day prior, Yoongi having spilled the info of that accident to Jungkook. You’ve made it very clear that you take this as an act of betrayal- but Yoongi didn’t seem to really care.

“I don’t think you can really put this up another time.” Jungkook mentions, tapping the hinge connecting to one of the doors of the small dresser with the screwdriver. “It’s been glued a couple of times already. I don’t think it’s gonna survive another try.” He tells you, and you just shrug.

“Well, then we’ll throw it away.” You just sigh, having watched him from the sidelines ever since he started working.

Jungkook suddenly moves, back of his shirt a bit damp from having worked admittedly pretty hard to take down your bigger furniture earlier. He sits in front of you, legs crossed, looking right at you- and you instantly cross your arms defensively.

You know what he wants. You won’t give it to him. “talk to me.” He says again, and it’s not really a demand, but more so him pleading. Asking.

Trying to get through.

“Nothing to say.” You shrug, and his eyes narrow at that, before he gets up and takes a hammer, offering it to you. “what?”

“Smash it.” He nods towards the small dresser, and you hesitate. “Come on.”

“I can’t.” You deny, pointing at your bandaged hand, and he nods, taking the hammer from you.

“Right. I’ll do it then.” He admits, arm lifting to gain momentum to deliver the hit to the side of the dresser, when you call out in panic, having gotten up as if to protect it-

But jungkook clearly never intended to really do it, instead just looking at you now with an unreadable expression.

“Listen.” He gets down again, setting the tool aside as he watches you look at the wooden furniture, decorated with faded stickers. “just.. at least tell me if you’re in any trouble?” He asks, and you look up at that. “do you owe someone money? Or is someone stalking you?” He worries, and you shake your head.

“No- God no, none of that.” You deny, and he sighs.

“see, that I believe.” He tells you. “your whole body language, the way you answered- that’s believable. But everything else is bullshit.” He denies you, and you get up at that, walking out of the room. “and now you’re running away- again!” He calls out defeated, getting up himself to follow you into your bathroom where you put all your skincare products into a box. “I’m trying hard to figure out what the fuck I did. Am I being too pushy?”

“No..” you mumble, putting more stuff away, avoiding interaction with him as much as you can. But much to your dismay, he’s got the audacity to take items out again. “Jungkook-“

“are you scared you’ll hurt my feelings if you shut me down?” He asks, and you roll your eyes. “stop that and talk to me-“

“as if anything could scratch your ego!” You tell him, feeling too pushed into a corner right now. “There’s nothing anyone could say that would ever really hurt a guy like you.!” You huff, not noticing the way he froze up for a good moment until a few seconds later when you’ve noticed him no longer reaching for anything.

“ouch.” He comments. “care to explain what you mean by that?” He asks, arms crossed.

“You’ve got like, everything!” You rant, folding your towels, avoiding eye contact. “you’re hot, you got the looks, great at flirting, you-..” you cut yourself off before you can ramble too much, accidentally revealing anything that could blow your cover, but it’s clear from his next words that his suspicions have been awoken.

“if I’m all of that, why not be with me?” he asks, watching you like a hawk now. “you’ve fucked Jimin, and stayed friends. So don’t come at me with that ‘Our friendship will be ruined’ bullshit.” He calls out, and you swallow.

He’s onto you.

“Thats different.” You say, avoiding the topic now, pushing past him out of the bathroom, but he doesn’t let go.

Following you around into the kitchen, giving you no chance to escape or even somehow make up new excuses in your head as he suddenly speaks again.

“Because it didn’t happen?”

You’re frozen, standing in front of the opened fridge, staring right at a bottle of water and a pack of shredded cheese as you feel your blood cool down- and it’s not from the temperature inside the device. Not even the beeping of the big device telling you to close it to save energy wakes you out of that trance, as your thoughts go wild.

How does he know?

How much does he know?

Does he even know at all or is he just bluffing?

“I knew you’d never fuck him.” He chuckles, closing the door for you, arm over your shoulder slowly retreating as he sits down at your small kitchen table, waiting for you to turn around. “and his story was always inconsistent. So was yours.” He explains how he caught the lie. “if you want to make shit up, at least agree on a Version to tell everyone.”

“so what?” You sigh, trying to keep up your act as you turn around- taken aback by the horribly soft look on his face, head leaning on his hand while his elbow rests on the table.

“Exactly. So what?” He asks you, visibly relaxing now that he’s got the confirmation he needed to know that what he’s been thinking. “But that’s not the only lie, is it?” He questions, and the way your eyes move away from his gives him an answer already. “Is that it? You lied and now you want to run away from it?” He questions, and you just let yourself go, sitting down on the floor in front of the fridge, defeated. You don’t care if you act like a child right now, it’s not like there’s any dignity left to cling to anyways.

You’re tired. You can’t keep this shit up anymore, you can’t deal with the stress of leaving even though you don’t want to, you can’t take the whole situation any longer.

“Yeah go on now. Laugh.” You mumble, hugging your knees. “close the door on your way out.”

“Now why would I do that?” He shakes his head as he sighs, moving to sit down in front of you again, on the floor, though he keeps some distance. “what made you... create this whole charade? Was it me?” he asks, visibly interested.

You shrug. You just want to vanish right now.

“I don’t.. it’s stupid.” You mumble, avoiding his gaze as you feel yourself begin to cry from the embarrassment.

“Hm yeah, kind of.” He admits. “how much of it was a lie? I mean, I have an idea, but I just.. would like for you to come clean yourself.” He shrugs, carefully tapping your knee with his finger, careful not to push you too far.

“everything.” You say. “I’ve.. the parties. And jimin. And everything else.”

“So you don't find me hot?” He teases, trying to lighten the mood a little, seeing you glare at him with watery eyes. “Hey, come on. Yeah it’s stupid, but we all did stupid shit sometimes.”

“Not as bad as me.” You deny. “I literally lied.. just to get your attention.” You say quietly, and he tries hard not to grin.

“Which is kind of cute, I have to admit..” He teases, but you don’t seem up for the joke. “But why did you think you had to make up that stuff?”

“Because.. You’re you. And I’m just.. an awkward virgin who acts a lot more confident than she is.” You say.

Jungkook falls quiet at that. While he knew to some extend that a lot of your stories were lies- mostly because the finer details didn’t add up or made any sense- he didn’t know how far exactly it went, so this info definitely changes some things.

“I’m sorry you.. fell for a fraud.” You mumble, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t think I fell for a fraud-“ he denies, “-because I never fell for any of that anyways.” He shakes his head. “I fell for the way you basically recite your dreams to me whenever something interesting happened in them. How you helped me find a good present for my mom’s birthday when I almost forgot it, even though you don’t even know her. Your laugh, your sense of humor, fuck, the way you greet me with a hug even when you’re pissed at me.” He sighs. “What made you think that sex was all I cared about?” He complains, and you feel even worse now.

“I just.. we don’t have anything in common.” You sniffle. “nothing. And I wanted you to like me so bad..” you confess, making him shake his head.

“we love Disney movies.” He responds. “we both love banana milk. We collect stickers. We like the same scents. We’re both dog people.” He gives as examples, before he runs a hand over his face. “so that’s it? That’s the big thing?” He asks, and you nod. “I mean.. yeah. This isn’t.. I hope you can understand me too here. I’m going to be a bit suspicious of stuff in the future until I know you’re not making stuff up again.” He says, and you look at him at that. “but that’s no reason to run away from me.”

“it is.” You deny. “I don’t.. I have a horrible crush on you.” You admit freely now, hiding your face in your knees. “I really like you.” You confess, and he moves closer at that, hands on the sides of your head gently forcing you to look at him.

“and that’s a bad thing?” He wonders, wiping your cheeks. “show me the real you. I’d love to fall for that instead.” He offers.

“There’s nothing to fall for.” You deny.

“Well, I’ll decide that for myself.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“Did you ever have your first kiss?” Jungkook asks randomly, hands shaping the pizza dough into the- somewhat- appropriate shape. Your a little hypnotized by the way his hands move, fingers digging into the soft dough to move it around, turn the outside corner in for the crust to later rise, having made it his mission to somehow figure out how to put cheese in the crust like your favorite delivery service. Suddenly though, one of the hands move, inked fingers snapping in front of your face. “Hey, I asked something.” He laughs, making you look at him.

“I- Oh, yeah.” You nod, before you shake your head. “what was the question?” You correct yourself, and he laughs more at that, shaking his head.

“I asked you if you’ve ever kissed anyone.” He repeats himself, moving to put the sauce on the bare dough now.

“I uh.. yeah. But it’s, I don’t know. Awkward.” You shrug. “not really my thing.” You admit, and he nods.

“Not really your thing, or, just had weird experiences?” He wonders, and you think for a bit.

Most of the time, you’ve been kissed, but you yourself have never kissed anyone. It was ever really.. asked if you wanted to be kissed- the moment had just been chosen by your partners back then, and it had put pressure on you to just go with it as to not make it awkward.

“I mean.. I’ve never made out or anything.” You admit. “and I never kissed anyone. I always got kissed.” You say.

“so you can ask for it at least, that’s good.” He nods to himself, before he notices you being quiet. “you.. did ask for it, right?” He questions with an oddly serious tone, and you shrug.

“the timing was always right I guess.” You answer. “I never asked, no. It just.. you know, when you’re being driven back home from a date, that’s when you kiss.” You tell him, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, hold on there, wait.” He denies. “They asked you though, right?” He questions, but you shake your head.

“Like I said when you-“ you start, but he shakes his head, hands on your shoulders now.

“No, none of that.” He presses. “You’re not obligated to do anything just because someone took you out. You’ll never be obligated to do me a favour just because I take you out. Got it?” He asks, and you nod, a bit taken aback by how serious he is. “if you don’t want something, you’ll have to say it. Please, promise me that.”

You nod. “I promise.” You say, and he sighs, relieved, before he brushes off the faint marks of flour on your skin.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..” he shakes his head as he resumes his task of preparing food for you both. “..nothing. Anyways- never kissed then, got it.” He nods to himself. “so we’re basically starting from scratch.”

“we’re?” You ask, unsure as he nods.

“We’re. I know of your secret, I know you like me, I like you too- so, what’s speaking against it?” He wonders, before he looks at you. “Do you want to be with me?” He asks, and you think for a second, before you nod.

“I’m just-” You start, but he just laughs.

“Not what I thought you were, I know. That’s why I’m saying we’re starting from scratch- I'm basically going to get to know you for real this time.” He tells you, putting the toppings onto the pizza that you both agreed on earlier.

He’s taking this so lightly. Like it’s nothing.

“I’ll still leave.” You remind him however, but again, he only nods to himself, sprinkling the shredded cheese onto the pizza he’s preparing. “And you’ll.. If we’re like.. Together, you can’t hook up with anyone else anymore.” You say, and he sighs, moving the food into the oven.

“I don’t know when that thought grew in your head, but let me get something straight.” He starts, setting up the right temperature and time before he braces himself against the kitchen counter you sit on, face turned towards you with a serious expression. “Yes, I enjoy sex. Yes, I have had it a lot.” He explains. “No, it’s not everything I always think about. Neither is it something that I absolutely need every day of the week.” Jungkook tells you, and you feel a bit guilty with the way he phrases it. “What made you think that’s all I’d want from you?” He wonders.

“Nothing, just..” You shrug, looking down at your knees. “I guess it was the easy way.”

“Let’s just start over then. Entirely.” He proposes. “I’ll get to know you- and you’ll get to know me. Because its pretty obvious you don’t know me either.” Jungkook says, and you nod, a bit ashamed.

“Sorry.” You apologize, but he instead puts a handful of shredded cheese in his mouth, before he offers it to you-

Laughing when you stuff your cheeks with it as well, finally breaking free.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“what’s wrong, hm?” Jungkook says, entering your apartment after you’d texted him that you didn’t feel good.

He first thought it might be sickness- but from your tearful eyes and the blanket around your shoulders, he now realizes that you’re not feeling mentally good. And he’s happy that you reached out for him, that you finally jumped over your shadow and sought him out, proving that you seemed to be truthful in trying to be more honest with him.

“I don’t want to leave.” You say, crying again as you sit down on your living room couch, the only thing still left untouched.

“Oh baby..” jungkook laughs a little to himself, sitting down next to you to run a comforting hand over your back. “didn’t you say that you could just work for the office here?” He asks, and you nod, though shrug too.

“they’ll be mad when I say.. that I wanna switch back again..” you mumble, hiccuping still here and there. It breaks his heart a little to see you this upset- but he also knows that you dug yourself into this mess all by yourself. This is just the consequences of your own actions.

“Well, that’s going to just be the punishment you’ll have to take.” Jungkook tells you, and while his tone is teasing, his gaze is still kind and comforting. “I’ll have your back too- you can stay at my place until you found something else, since you’re already supposed to be out of this apartment by next week.” He reminds you, and you sigh.

“But I’ll impose, don’t tell me I won’t.” You argue looking at your feet. “I’ll just have to go through with it-“.

“I wouldnt be offering my place if i wasnt comfortable with the idea of you around all the time.” He playfully denies. “maybe try and not run around in your underwear and I’ll keep my hands to myself too as a bonus.” He flirts, and you can’t help but giggle a bit at that.

“Maybe I don’t want you keeping them to yourself?” You ask, making him grin a little.

“Careful there. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He teases, before he moves into a more comfortable position, pulling you closer. “Well figure this all out. You’re not alone, alright?” He tells you, and you nod.

“Jungkook?” You wonder randomly after a good moment of just silence, and he hums as a reply before you talk again. “how do you ask for.. a kiss? Or like.. I don’t know. Forget it.” You mumble more or less to yourself making him chuckle.

“No can do. Now you’ve got my attention.” He teases a little, hands on your arms running up and down in reassurance. “You want a kiss right now?” He wonders, and you shrug.

“I’ve never.. like, made out with anyone.” You admit.

“And you want to do that with me?” He wonders, making you nod- before you shake your head.

“Yes? I don’t know.” You admit. “I don’t know what it’s like, so I don’t know if I like it. What if I don’t?” You worry, and he sighs.

“Then you don’t. Simple as that.” He shrugs. “What if you just gave me a kiss? See how that feels?” He offers as an option, and you bite at your lips for a second, before you move around to face him, eyes moving from his lips to his eyes for a moment.

“right now?” You wonder, and he smiles.

“If you want to.” He answers, still relaxed as ever. It reassures you, the fact that he’s so at ease- you don’t want to fuck this up, and you also don’t want to seem dumber than you actually are. His experience is a little intimidating to you- what if he thinks you’re lame? You most likely are. Anything you both will do will be boring to him, you realize. “hey- talk to me.” He snaps you out of your thoughts, and you pull your attention back to the situation at hand. “what’s worrying you?” He wonders.

“I want to impress you I guess.” You huff impatiently. “I want you to be like, ‘wow’ at something I do but I don’t have any idea what to do to like, get that reaction from you.” You explain, making his eyes soften.

“What makes you think that you need to impress me?” He wonders, and you look down at his chest.

“I don’t.. Taehyung once said that.. you know, you get bored easily..” you mumble, and Jungkook’s eyes widen for a second, before he clocks his tongue.

“you know, I envy you a little bit because of that.” He tells you, and that answer catches you off guard. “once you.. have a lot of sex, and have kissed a lot of people, it all loses its spark, you know?” He explains almost melancholic. “it’s like a book. You can only read it for the first time once- after that, you’re always prepared for what’s to come. It’s no longer new. Nothing exciting. Only.. maybe comforting at best.” He shrugs. “I wish I could have those early experiences back. That spark.” He admits. “i don’t want or need to be impressed. Not like this, at least.” He offers you. “I just.. want something permanent. Something real.”

“Why.. havent you been in a relationship before then?” You wonder. “if you want something permanent.”

“because no one wants that with someone like me.” He explains to you. “I’m exciting. I’m wild, and adventure. But I’m nothing someone wants to stay with.” He shrugs.

You frown at that. What?

Suddenly, a sentence jimin said years ago slaps you right in the face, full force.

“He falls in love easily, with everything around him. I wish the world around him would do the same for once.”

“Jungkook?” You ask, and he nods, looking at you. “can I kiss you?” You wonder, and he nods.

“Sure.” He teases, and you feel like it’s more of a defensive mechanism at this point. “impress me.” He jokes.

But he quickly seems caught completely off guard when your hands hold his face, before you put your lips on his. He’s truly surprised in that moment- because this is, indeed, new. He’s never been kissed like this before- with so much gentle care and attention, with such warmth that he feels like he’s actually melting right into your hands. It’s one kiss, another, and a third- and his eyes are suddenly only half-open, all words lost as he stares you down. You’re not sure if that was something he liked- but the moment his own hand finds your cheek as well makes you wonder if you really did it right.

“can I kiss you?” He asks quietly, almost a whisper, and you’ve never heard him so fragile before. But you nod- and the moment you do, his lips are on yours- a lot more confident in himself, but slow, soft. He’s taking the lead, easily so- but it’s not overbearing, instead simply an act of adoration. “You know-“ he laughs, out of breath even though this wasn’t ‘steamy’ or heated at all. “-I was joking when I asked you to impress me.”

“You dont have to lie.” You giggle, but he shakes his head, pecking your lips once, twice, again just for good measure.

“I’m not.” He denies. “this is the first time I’ve been kissed like that.”

“like what?” You wonder, unable to look away from that unique expression he’s got on his face.

“like someone's in love with me.”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:

“I’m sorry, but I won’t just let myself be some body you can practice on so you can know how to drive and move on to someone that interests you more.” He barks out, agitated, and you’re completely caught off guard, staring him down in disbelief. “I won’t let myself be used like that..” again, he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to expose this like that. He doesn’t feel safe, he feels like a cornered animal, and the worst part is that he knows he doesn’t even need to say it, because you know what he’s hinting at.

“I’m sorry.” You say, and again, there it is; this stinging pain in his chest at your gentle tone, trying to soothe his wounds with salt it seems like.

“Why are you sorry?” He wants to know, tone dangerously low as he expects you to reveal your intentions to him, at last. “ What are you sorry for?” He wants to know, and you just shake your head.

“I’m sorry I never really looked at you properly.” You admit, and he frowns again, once more left without any control over the situation. “I’m sorry I never noticed you were hurting.” You tell him, and he swallows hard, turning away from you. “I’m sorry I can’t help you.” You say, defeated, and he slaps his kitchen counter in agony, turned away from you.

“Stop apologizing.!” He gets out between clenched teeth, agitated over the fact that he’s got no grasp of the situation.

“I don’t know what else to do.” You say, the soft whine in your tone making it clear that you’re hurting just as much as he is. “I’m.. I’ll stay with jimin-“ you offer, thinking he might want space- but he just groans out, and holds his head, marbled kitchen counter doing nothing to cool his temperature.

“I don’t want you to leave-!” He almost growls, before he braces himself against the counter top, sighing loudly. “fuck.. That’s the last thing I want, ’m just- I’m the one who should say sorry.” He says. “I just.. God I’m so fucked up..” he laughs bitterly, and you do whatever you feel like might help him- leaning against his back, arms wrapped around him. And for a moment, as he lets himself be held for just a moment, you can feel him shake a little under the weight of his own emotions finally seeping through the cracks-

And you’re determined to put his pieces back together, however long it’ll take you.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader

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screaminglygay · 2 months ago

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third time is a charm, right? (part seven)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff, carol danvers x fem!reader (platonic), past carol danvers x natasha romanoff

summary: being surrounded by beautiful women makes you dizzy and irracional, but that´s just part of the life, hm?

warnings: swearing, ankle injury, messy relationship, that´s all i think:)

word count: 3.3k

an: what can i say? comunication is hard and messy, especially in these situationships

(italica = your thoughts)

The next morning, your ankle is still swollen and painful. Every step you take sends a sharp reminder of the previous night's events. And the headache from drinking is not much of a helper either. As you sit on the couch, contemplating your next move, you remember the business card Carol handed you. Hesitating for a moment, you finally pick up your phone and dial her number.

Fuck it.

After a few rings, Carol answers, her voice warm and slightly curious. "Danvers speaking," her voice is firm.

"Hi, Carol. It’s me, (Y/N)," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I, uh, I’m having trouble with my ankle. And you said to call you if anything… so I´m calling."

Carol's tone immediately shifts to one of concern. "Oh no, okay. Have you seen a doctor?"

You shake your head, even though she can’t see you. "No, I haven’t. I just thought it might get better on it´s own over night, but it hasn’t."

"Okay, don’t worry," Carol says reassuringly. "How about I´ll drive to yours and help you out? Or get you into the hospital?"

It doesn’t take long before you hear a knock on your door. You hobble over and open it to find Carol standing there with a warm smile, holding a small bag.

"Hi," you greet her, feeling a bit shy.

"Hey there," Carol replies, stepping inside. "I brought some supplies for your ankle. Let’s take a look." She is wearing a black lather jacket, it suits her pretty well. You on the other hand just in oversized shirt and some sweatpants... well it´s not an outfit of the century.

She helps you back to the couch and kneels down to examine your ankle, her touch gentle and careful. "This looks pretty bad. We should get some ice on it and keep it elevated. You really should see a doctor."

"I know," you admit. "I just… everything’s been a bit overwhelming and doctor on top of it is just not the cherry on top I´d like."

Carol looks up at you, her expression soft. "I get it. You’ve been through a lot. But it won´t magicaly heal on it´s own."

You nod, appreciating her concern. As she wraps your ankle with an ice pack and props it up on a cushion, you feel a sense of comfort in her presence. She moves around your apartment with ease, making sure you’re comfortable and fetching anything you need.

"So," Carol says, settling down beside you. "How are you feeling after everything that happened with Natasha and Wanda?"

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. "I’m still processing it all. It’s hard to do it while hangover and minus one leg."

Carol chuckles. "It’s okay to feel hurt and confused. They put you in a tough spot. Literaly."

"Thanks," you say softly. "For being here. I didn’t expect you to help me like this."

Carol smiles. "What are friends for? Besides, I couldn’t leave you struggling on your own. And honestly, I kind of enjoy your company."

You laugh lightly, the first time you’ve felt a bit of joy since the fallout with Natasha and Wanda. "So we´re besties now?"

"You cried on my shoulder while being drunk, isn´t it a typical way of making girl friends?" Carol teases.

"That is a fair point, yeah." You laugh.

Carol chuckles. "How about I cook us some lunch? I make the perfect grilled cheese."

"That sounds great," you say, feeling your spirits lift.

As Carol moves to the kitchen, you watch her with a mix of gratitude and curiosity. There’s something about her that makes you feel safe and valued, a stark contrast to the tumultuous relationship with Natasha and Wanda.

"I uh… noticed you´re also a CEO," you speak up, breaking the comfortable silence.

Carol chuckles, glancing over her shoulder at you. "Yeah. It’s been quite a journey."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "How did you get into it?"

Carol turns back to the stove, flipping the sandwiches with practiced ease. " I started in the Air Force, actually. But after some… complications, I transitioned into the business world."

You nod, impressed. "That’s amazing. I can see why you and Natasha might have some… tension."

Carol laughs, shaking her head. "Yeah, you could say that. Natasha and I have a bit of a rivalry going on. She’s always been competitive, and I guess I pushed her buttons in ways she wasn’t used to."

"What do you mean?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Carol plates the grilled cheese sandwiches and brings them over to the table, sitting down across from you. "Natasha is used to being the best at everything she does. When I started making waves with my company, she didn’t take it too well. We’ve had our fair share of professional clashes."

You smile, finding comfort in her honesty. "Has it always been this way?"

"Pretty much. When we were together, the rivalry was more playful. But after we broke up, it became more serious. She’s always been a bit salty about my successes, and I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed getting under her skin a bit." Carol asnwers.

You take a bite of the grilled cheese, savoring the warmth and flavor. "Sounds like it keeps you on your toes."

Carol nods. "It does. But honestly, I think we both thrive on it. It’s like a game we’re both determined to win."

You chew thoughtfully, feeling a bit more connected to Carol through her stories. "It must be exhausting, though. Always competing."

Carol leans back, her expression softening. "It can be. But it’s also what drives me. There’s a lot of professional pride involved. We’re both in industries where being at the top means everything. Natasha doesn’t like losing, and I’m not one to back down."

You smile, appreciating her honesty. "Like I´ve said… exhausting."

"Yeah, you get used to it after some time," Carol admits.

After finishing lunch, Carol insists on taking you to the hospital to get your ankle checked out. Reluctantly, you agree, knowing she’s right. The drive is filled with light conversation, Carol keeping your mind off the pain and the events of the previous night. Once at the hospital, a doctor examines your ankle, taking an X-ray to ensure there are no fractures.

Thankfully, it's not broken or badly sprained. The doctor advises you to rest for at least a week, keeping your ankle elevated and iced to reduce the swelling. As you leave with a wrapped ankle and a prescription for painkillers, you feel a wave of relief knowing it’s not serious. Carol stays by your side the entire time, making sure you’re comfortable and reassuring you that everything will be okay.

As you make your phone call to work, Carol drives back into your place in silence. Your boss is completly okay with you taking a break and she just wishes you to be okay soon. Carol smiles as she glance at you, "all good?"

You nod, "yeah, thanfully all good."

An hour later, you're both lounging on the couch, chatting about everything and nothing, when there's a sudden knock on the door.

You pause, feeling a flicker of anxiety. Carol notices your hesitation and gives you a questioning look. "Expecting anyone?"

You shake your head, pushing yourself up with a wince and hobbling to the door. Peering through the peephole, your heart skips a beat as you recognize the familiar faces of Natasha and Wanda standing on the other side.

"It's them," you whisper, more to yourself than to Carol.

Carol stands up, her expression turning serious. "What do you want to do? Do you want to talk to them?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Part of you wants to hear them out, but another part remembers the hurt and betrayal. Finally, you take a deep breath and decide. "I guess I should see what they want."

With Carol staying in the living room, you open the door slightly, keeping the chain lock in place. "What do you want?" you ask, your voice steady but guarded.

Wanda looks at you with concern. "We just wanted to make sure you're okay," she says softly.

"I'm fine," you reply curtly. "I went to the hospital. They said it’s just a sprain."

Both Natasha and Wanda’s eyes widen in alarm. "You went to the hospital?" Natasha asks, a protective edge in her voice. "Did you drive there?!"

"I hurt my ankle," you respond, not wanting to get into details. "It´s not like I was hit by a car."

Wanda’s brow furrows in worry. "Why didn't you call us? We could have helped. Drive you there or something…"

You sigh, feeling the weight of their concern. "I didn't wanted to bother, given everything."

Natasha looks genuinely hurt. "We care about you. Despite everything, we do care."

You feel a mix of emotions, wanting to believe them but still wary. "I appreciate your concern, but I have someone helping me."

At that moment, Carol, having overheard the conversation, steps into view. "Hey, everything okay here?"

Natasha and Wanda’s eyes widen in surprise at seeing Carol. "Carol?" Natasha asks, a mix of shock and confusion in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Carol crosses her arms, her expression calm but firm. "I'm helping out a friend."

Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, a hint of tension in her voice. "Of course, it’s you, Danvers. Always showing up where you're least expected."

Wanda, sensing the rising tension, gently places a hand on Natasha’s arm to calm her. "Nat, please," she says softly before turning back to you. "We are glad someone is helping you."

You look at Wanda, knowing she meant her words, you give her a small smile.

Natasha looks at you, her eyes softening a bit despite the tension. "We just want to make sure you're okay, (Y/N). That's all."

You nod, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "I know. But right now, I need some space. Please understand that."

Wanda bites her lip, looking like she wants to say more but nodding instead. "Okay. We’ll give you space. But if you need anything, we’re here."

Natasha adds, "Take care of yourself." And looks at Carol, "Danvers," she nods.

Carol just nods, she doesn´t say anything else.

You close the door softly, leaning against it as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, "god."

Carol steps closer, giving you a reassuring smile. "You handled that well."

"Thanks," you reply, feeling relieved.

...

As the days pass, your ankle gradually heals, and you find yourself less reliant on Carol's physical help. However, the friendship that blossomed during your recovery continues to thrive. You and Carol text each other regularly, sharing updates about your lives, funny anecdotes, and supportive messages. Despite the pain caused by Natasha and Wanda, Carol’s presence has been a comforting and grounding force.

One evening, as you sit on your couch scrolling through your phone, you feel a wave of nostalgia and longing. Memories of the good times with Natasha and Wanda resurface, the emotions, the feelings, the touches… You hover over their contacts, unsure of what to do. Finally, with a deep breath, you decide to reach out.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, debating between Natasha and Wanda. After a moment of indecision, you choose Wanda, her gentle nature feeling slightly less intimidating.

You: Hi, Wanda. How are you doing?

You hit send before you can overthink it. A few moments later, your phone buzzes with a response.

Wanda: Hey! I’m doing okay. How about you? How’s your ankle?

A smile tugs at your lips. Despite everything, it feels nice to hear from her.

You: It’s much better now, thanks. I’m getting back to normal, slowly but surely.

Wanda: I’m glad to hear that. We’ve been worried about you.

You: Really?

They been thinking about me… that feels nice.

Wanda: Of course. You’re important to us, even if we didn’t show it well.

You pause, feeling a mixture of emotions. It's comforting to know they care, but the hurt is still there, how could you be so stupid to think you can do only sex? You´re the person who can catch feeling even when someone will hold the door for you.

You: I appreciate that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.

Wanda: About us?

You: Yeah. I miss you both, but I’m still hurt. What Natasha said really got to me. I know what we agreed on, but that doesn´t mean it wasn´t painful.

There's a pause, and you can almost feel Wanda's regret through the screen.

Wanda: I understand. Natasha feels terrible about it. She doesn’t always handle her emotions well.

You: I get that. I just… I don’t know where we stand anymore.

Wanda: Can we talk? In person, I mean. It might be easier. All of us.

You hesitate, the fear of getting hurt again battling with the desire to mend things.

You: Can you come to mine tomorrow then?

Wanda: Is 3PM okay for you?

You: It is.

Wanda: Perfect!

You put your phone down, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Before you go to bed, you send a quick text to Carol about your conversation with Wanda, she wishes you a good luck and you have a feeling of hope, feeling that everything will be okay. You will talk like a grownups… that´s great right? Something you were always so perfect about and defiently not going quiet, when there was something you didn´t like.

It´s gonna be just fine.

...

The next day, the clock seems to tick by more slowly than usual. You try to tidy up your apartment, trying to keep busy to calm your nerves. By the time 3PM approaches, you feel a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You hear a knock at the door and take a deep breath before walking over.

Peeking through the peephole, you see Wanda and Natasha standing there. Wanda in her flower dress looks hopeful, while Natasha appears a bit more stoic, though you can see the concern in her eyes.

You open the door slightly, enough to see them but still feeling cautious. "Hey," you say softly.

"Hey," Wanda responds with a small smile. "Can we come in?"

You hop back, opening the door wider to let them in. As they enter, they both notice the slight limp in your step.

Natasha's eyes narrow with concern. "Is your ankle still hurting?"

"It's better," you say, avoiding their gazes. "I can walk, I just look like an idiot, while doing so." You chuckle, trying to ease the situation.

Natasha's face hardens. "But you´re still in pain?"

"I´m okay, nothing I can´t take." You assure them.

Wanda nods, "can we help you right now in any way?"

You slowly walk to the couch and shake your head. "No, not really. But feel free to take whatever you´d like, coffee, water…"

Natasha nods and makes a coffee for herself, while she takes a juice for you and Wanda.

You sit down, feeling the weight of their presence. "So…?"

Wanda sits across from you, her eyes soft and pleading. "We´re sorry. For everything. Natasha and I… we handled things poorly."

Natasha nods, her expression serious. "We never meant to hurt you. What I said… it was wrong, and I regret it."

You look between them, feeling the sincerity in their words. "You don´t need to apologize milion times, you know."

Wanda shakes her head. "We do. We care about you, deeply. We just didn’t know how to handle our own emotions. And we… well screw it up."

Natasha takes a deep breath. "We want to make things right. If you’re willing to give us another chance."

You sit back, contemplating their words. "Do you think I would let you in here, if I didn´t think about giving you a second chance?"

Both Wanda and Natasha look taken aback, their eyes widening in surprise.

Wanda’s gaze softens, a glimmer of hope appearing. "You’re… you’re willing to give us another chance?"

"I am doing that right now, or… that wasn´t obvious? Gosh we are really shitty at comunicating… all of us." You chuckle, making the two ladies laugh as well.

Wanda smiles, "good to know, okay."

Natasha looks down, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve. “We’ve had issues with communication in the past, too. I can see now that it kinda affected us… me.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I also need to admit that I misread the situation. Even after we set terms, I hoped for something more. I thought maybe…”

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand. “We should have been clearer. But you also need to understand that we weren’t completely upfront either.”

Natasha’s expression turns serious. “The truth is, you’re not the first person we’ve been involved with. We’ve had others before you. And, honestly, it hasn’t always been great.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, but also suprised that Natasha is openning up right now.

Natasha hesitates for a moment, then continues. “We’ve had partners who were… different from you. They were often rude, mean, and only interested in our money. They were possessive and only saw us for what we could provide, not who we are.”

Wanda adds, “That’s why we were so cautious with you. We didn’t want to fall into the same patterns, but in doing so, we ended up hurting you instead. Basically did the thing we were so worried about.”

Natasha looks at you, her eyes filled with regret. “I freaked out because I didn’t want you to be like them. I was afraid of repeating the mistakes we made before. And when you showed up in the office, I just… lost it completly.”

You absorb their words, feeling a mix of empathy and frustration. “Alright, I understand, but… we all have our baggage, and it’s up to us to work through it together.”

Wanda’s eyes soften. “You’re right. We need to be more open and honest about our feelings and our pasts. And we need to listen to you, too.”

Natasha nods, her expression is soft, not to firm as it was before.

You take a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. “I appreciate your honesty. I’m willing to work on this with you."

Wanda smiles gently. “Thank you for being willing to try. We’ll do our best to show you that we can be different.”

Natasha adds, “We’ll start by being more transparent and communicating better. That’s a promise. How about we start again?" She exhales.

"You saw me naked, I don´t think we can start again." You chuckle, while your cheeks heat up.

Wanda giggles, "then how about we go on a date, proper one? Tomorrow?"

A proper date? Hold on… so it´s not a just sex anymore. I´m confused.

Both women can notice your puzzled face and Wanda takes your hand in hers, "proper date as… we would like to try this," her hand squeezes yours, "to be more than just a sex."

Oh shit. Nice. Cool. Okay. Calm down. It´s fine. All good.

"If you don´t have plans with Davnvers, of course." Natasha speaks up, you can hear the slight jealousy in her voice. Which makes the younger woman roll her eyes at her girlfriend.

"I don´t no," you shake your head. “Tomorrow works perfectly fine for me.” You agree enthusiastically, feeling a surge of happiness at the thought of a proper date.

Nat smirks, "perfect."

"So we will pick you up at… 7PM?" Wanda smiles.

You nod, trying to ease the exitement.

With a final exchange of smiles and assurances, Wanda and Natasha prepare to leave. They give you a warm hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. As you close the door behind them you let out a squek of happiness and some kind of celebration dance? But your ankle reminds you, that dancing is not a good idea yet.

Maybe third time is really a charm!

Thank you so much for reading!!

taglist: @arualdcg, @beholdagaywriter, @snowdrop1026, @itsdoni, @newawakening9, @aliherreraaa, @zzswiftyzz, @lesbiantothemoonandback, @maggieromanov

If you want to be added, just let me know!:) keep in mind you have to be 18+

#adele writes #third time is a charm right?#marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel universe #marvel fanfic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x reader

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 7 months ago

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Pregnant with Patrick’s Daughter (Challengers)

Description: Y/N is pregnant with Patrick’s baby but she’s with Art.

Word Count:986

Request: "Maybe something with a pregnant reader and like Patrick’s the dad. It could be fluff or angst, idk I’m just curious to see how the dynamic between Patrick and like his child would be lol!”

Author’s note: I added a twist in it. Hope you like it!

Y/N looked down at the pregnancy test in shock. Her and Patrick used protection or did they? She honestly couldn’t remember but this was bad news. She was with Art and fucking Patrick. Though she knows that it’s not Art’s kid because he’s been too busy with Tennis to even fuck her. Art would know that the kid wasn’t his, especially if the kid looks like Patrick. Truth be told, Y/N loved Patrick and she also loved Art. It was hard for her to choose between them when they both wanted her as well. She looked at the engagement ring that was placed on her finger. She twirled it and played with it as she thought of what she was going to do.

Art was practicing for his match today so Y/N called Patrick. The two weren’t friends anymore which made the situation worse. He thought she wanted to have sex again so he kissed her hard as soon as she opened the door. She pushed him back and he gave her a confused look. “We need to talk.” She said, he nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “Take a seat.” She demanded. “Ohh I love it when you get all dominant with me.” He smirked. She gave him a look and his smirk dropped. “Listen I don’t know what to do about this or why I'm even telling you at this point but I’m pregnant.” His jaw drops at her words, “And it’s yours because Art and I haven’t had sex in awhile.” He got up from the chair and pulled her in for a hug. “That’s great. I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. She pulled away from the hug, “Patrick, I’m with Art. He’s not gonna be happy about this.” Patrick didn’t really care. He hated Art for taking Y/N from him. That pathetic bastard got everything he wanted. “Well he’s not gonna wanna be with you since you’re carrying another man’s baby. My baby to be exact.” She glared at him. Of course he’d be happy about this. He hated Art.

“What?” Art screeched as he stood up from the couch. It didn’t make sense why Patrick was here but now it did. “Art, I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” She tells him. Patrick had a proud smirk on his face. “Found out what? That you’re fucking my ex best friend and having his baby?” Y/N looked at him with a guilty expression. She really did feel bad. “Art it’s hard for me.” She said with tears in her eyes. “You’re crying? You’re fucking my ex best friend and you’re crying?” He yelled. “Art, I love you both.” Patrick didn’t know that she loved him, nor did Art. “What?” Patrick whispered at her confession. “I love you both and I know that you guys hate each other but I can’t live without you guys.” She said, tears still streaming down her face. Patrick stood up and looked at Art who looked so broken at the news. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Art, please say something.” She begged her fiance. He shook his head and laughed. Both, Y/N and Patrick looked confused. “Get the fuck out!” He told them. “Art, please-” “Get the fuck out!” He screamed at her.

She laid in Patrick’s bed with tears streaming down her face. Her belly bigger and full with Patrick’s baby. It’s been 6 months since Art kicked her out. He hadn’t spoken to either of them, not that she thought he would. He had the right to be upset with her. She cheated on him and got pregnant. But it still hurt her a lot, she loved them both and it was selfish that she felt sad because she had Patrick. But she wanted both. The front door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. Patrick made his way to the bedroom to see Y/N and her tummy full of his baby. He smiled at the sight. She saw him enter the bedroom and smiled at him. He came and collapsed on the bed next to her. He turned towards her and stared at her stomach. “I can’t wait til she’s born.” He said and placed his hand on her tummy. She smiled and agreed with him. She placed her hand on his and the baby kicked. They both gasped and looked at each other. This was the first time they baby kicked for Patrick. Tears started forming in his eyes as he smiled. “I finally felt her kick.” Y/N nodded and ran her fingers through his hair.

Y/N watched as Patrick gave their 4 year old daughter a racket. She chuckled as their daughter kept dropping it but everytime Patrick gave her it again. He was so patient with her and so sweet. It made Y/N’s heart melt. She giggled as their daughter almost hit Patrick with the racket. He looked at his wife and smiled at her. She got up from her seat and walked over to them. “Try not to kill daddy, sweetheart.” She joked. Their 4 year old giggled and gave the racket to Y/N. Y/N took it and melted when she ran into Patrick’s arms. Patrick smiled and hugged her back. Y/N felt happiness in her life, ever since their daughter was born. She didn’t think of Art anymore, unless she saw him on the news. He was a pro tennis player like Patrick and he married Tashi Duncan. She was happy for him, truly. “Hey uh I guess now would be the time to tell you that I’m playing in the challengers and Art will be there.” Her smile dropped at his name. She had a bad feeling about this and almost told him not to go. But she would be by his side with their daughter to support him. She wouldn’t let Art being there ruin this for them.

#challengers movie #challengers 2024 #josh o'connor #mike faist #zendaya #patrick zweig #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #tashi duncan

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tiredmamaissy · 2 years ago

Text

Insatiable

Neteyam's First Rut: Special Episode I

This takes place between ‘The Heat Within’ & ‘A Synchronous Fever’ in the ‘Neteyam’s First Rut’ series.

Neteyam's mate's POV of 'Inextinguishable'.

Read Special Episodes: Part II (Twin Flame) & Part III (Ashes) - links are also below.

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Main Characters: Neteyam Sully (20) x Avatar Omatikaya Reader y/n (19) [will be referred to as Neteyam’s mate or n/m]

Supporting Characters: Lo’ak Sully (19) x Na’vi Omatikaya Reader y/n (19) [will be referred to as Lo’aks mate or l/m]

Warnings: extreme nsfw, heavy smut, heat cycle, dom neteyam, lil bit of fluff, profanity, usage of ‘slut’, marking

Word Count: 6k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: This is Neteyam x Reader’s POV of ‘Inextinguishable’. Enjoy ♡

“Oh shit.” You gasp, grabbing Neteyam by the arm. “Neteyam... isn’t that Lo’ak’s mate?” you point, unable to look away from the curled-up figure on the ground.

Neteyam quickly turns around, hearing the fear in your voice.

“What? Where?” he scans the forest in a hurry, finally seeing her lifeless body on the soft flora. “Shit. It is.”

The strong scent of lionberry and mossy wood wafts past you both. For you, the scent is almost calming, if you could wear it like a perfume, you would. But it clearly had a different effect on Neteyam, as you watch your mate rush over to her, scooping her up in his arms and carry her back to his banshee. For a minute you feel something new, something Neteyam has never made you feel before – jealous.

It was silly; she was clearly not herself. But you had only seen Neteyam act like that for you, act so protective. Granted, it’s what you would have told him to do had he not done it himself. Shrugging it off, you climb up on his ikran, seating yourself behind her, supporting her limp body with yours.

“She is in heat, isn’t she Nete?” you ask him, smelling her scent grow stronger.

“Definitely.” He states through gritted teeth.

It even sounds like he’s restraining himself in some way. As if he’s trying not to pounce on her right here, right now. Your heart feels like it’s caving in, being crushed under the pressure of the weight of his single word, ‘definitely’. You look down, to see her flushed cheeks, the beads of sweat dripping down her chest... the arousal of her body.

You can’t deny it, her scent is enticing – addictive, even. Her wet hair plasters itself against your chest as she leans back into you, snuggling into your bosom. Watching her rub her face into your breast makes your heart thump, hard. Surprised by your own body’s reaction to her carnal state, you look at Neteyam, wondering if he feels the same way.

He must feel the same, right? If not... worse.

Slipping under the trance of her heat, your breath becomes raggedly, and loud. You were practically panting, feeling her feverish body warm yours up, too. It’s all too overwhelming – the warmth of her body, the sweat coating your chest in a layer of sheen, her erotic expression... the little, sweet noises escaping her flushed lips – her scent.

It makes you... tense. To the point where even Neteyam notices.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asks, holding his breath.

The choked-up voice brings you back to reality in an instant. You see his hand reach behind him, searching for your thigh, almost brushing against hers instead. Moving your hand from her waist, you grab his hand and rest it on your clammy thigh.

“Yes. Just... hurry.” You pant lightly. “She - she doesn’t look too great.”

She really didn’t, but the truth is that you’re not feeling all that great either.

“I know. I know. We are almost there.” He reassures you, squeezing your thigh before letting go.

----

Neteyam carries her quickly to the tent, placing her gently on the woven mat. You both look down at her body, glistening from sweat, as she shakes her head from side to side. Her little whimpers are turning into lengthy groans the more time passes. Neteyam is visibly uncomfortable, shielding his nose with his forearm and backing up to the door.

“What is it? Are her pheromones too much for you? Too arousing?” you spit, letting the jealousy overcome you.

He grits his teeth and tightens his brows. “What? Y/n. No.” he snaps at you. “...they are making me sick.” He confesses, backing up even more. “I cannot stay here. I am going to call for Lo’ak.”

As bad as it sounds, you feel better knowing that he feels sick rather than hot and bothered by your sister-in-law.

“Sorry. I – I think she is affecting me, too.” You babble, feeling lightheaded.

“Sorry, ma’ yawne [beloved]. I must go.” He grimaces, walking swiftly out the door.

Left alone with her, you scan her body thoroughly. She’s drenched in sweat, yet shivering violently as if she were cold. Sympathizing with her, you sweep back the stands hair stuck to her forehead and wipe her down with a wet cloth.

Is this what I look like when I’m in heat, too?

You know the cloth is useless and that only Lo’ak could provide any sort of relief for her, but it’s all you could do for her. She’s practically writhing in pain, mumbling under her breath, yearning for her mate. You know the feeling all too well, you could really empathize with her. It feels as if you’re going through it too, just by watching her curl into a foetal position.

It must be burning... there, now. You pity her, staring at her clutching her womb.

Feeling woozy, you mirror her movements, wrapping your hand around your abdomen, too.

“I know what you are feeling. It is not nice. But do not fret...” you ring out the cloth, “...Neteyam has called for your mate.” You whisper, wiping down the back of her neck. “He will fix you right up... okay?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“Mmm... mhm.” She moans between pants, leaning into your touches as she backs herself up onto you.

You let out a breathy chuckle, smiling down at her. “Not me, silly. I can’t do much for you. So, sorry about that...” you glance at her tail, coiling around your leg. “Hang in there... Lo’ak is almost here, I am sure of it.” You pat her thigh before dipping the cloth back into the water.

----

“Lo’ak. Where are you? Why did you leave her alone?” Neteyam shouts, holding the button on his throat microphone.

“What? What do you mean? I was with her an hour ago, bro.” Lo’ak shouts back.

Neteyam doesn’t answer, as he breathes through a wave of nausea, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth.

“Bro?” Lo’ak repeats.

“Come quick. She doesn’t look good.” Neteyam states quickly. “She is with my mate... I had to leave the room. Her pheromones are making me nauseous.” he takes a deep breath, hearing nothing but silence.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam spits.

“Just. Shut up. I’m almost there.” Lo’ak growls.

Just as he said – Lo’ak lands with a loud thump.

Neteyam watches his brother dismount his ikran, embodying that of a very pissed off thanator. He braces for impact, feeling too queasy to properly defend himself from his brother’s uncontrollable temper.

“Lo’ak. Calm, brother.” Neteyam snaps, staggering from the wooziness.

Fortunately for Neteyam, the faint moan of his mate pierces the air, causing the thanator to lock onto a new target. Lo’ak pushes past Neteyam, shoving him out the way. Neteyam sits down and puts his head between his legs, hoping it’ll ease up the light-headedness.

----

Lo’ak opens the door, making you jump in your skin. You watch as he’s overpowered by his mate’s pheromones, covering his face with his hand as he makes his way into the room. He rushes over and kneels before his mate, who’s now under a sheeting, drenched with her sweat. He lifts his head briefly to give you a quick nod – as if to say, thank you. You shoot him a smile, before getting up to leave the tent to join your mate.

“Ma’ teyam?” you call for him, not seeing him in your direct line of sight.

“Down here.” He mutters, head still between his legs.

You gasp from hearing his voice, still on edge from l/m's heat. Looking at your feet, you see Neteyam sitting down on a branch next to the tent.

“Oh, my baby. Is it that bad?” you ask, feeling sorry for him.

“Mmmn. Feel like ‘m gonna be sick.” He pants, drooling from the excess saliva flooding his mouth.

The sight is like stones in your heart.

“Alright, alright. You’re okay. I am here now, Nete.” You hum as you seat yourself next to him and rub circles into his back. “Take a deep breath with me.” You breathe with him, holding his braids out the way.

It seems to be a thing where you care for others, today.

Not that you minded it, you were a healer in training anyways. But you couldn’t deny your own uneasiness. Your own wooziness.

The scent of lionberry and mossy wood completely inundates you and Neteyam as Lo’ak walks past with his mate in his arms. Before you know it, Neteyam is dry heaving, trying his best not to throw up.

“Okay, okay. We gotta’ go.” you insist, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Come on. Up we go, Nete.” You grunt, struggling to stand up with this dead weight on your shoulder.

Although you didn’t have the strongest frame, your legs feel significantly weaker. You put it off to this entire ordeal. Snaking your hand around his waist, you pull him up with you, supporting him as you walk towards your shared tent. He really wasn’t carrying much of his weight, or at least that’s how it felt.

“Walk with me, ma’ teyam.” You huff, feeling his braids swing against your face as he makes feeble tempts to walk to the tent. “Almost there. Just a few more steps.”

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of nausea washes over him, stopping him in his tracks. You hold your position, supporting him on your wobbly legs whilst he catches his breath.

“Sorry, y/n.” he groans between raggedy breaths.

“For what? Being sick?” you laugh, “Don’t be.”

“No. For earlier... I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?” he looks up at you through his knitted brows, with big glossy eyes.

His eyes always made you fold in two, and he knew it. You brush it off, rolling your eyes and shaking your head slightly.

“Psh. Nah. I have no idea what you are talking about.” You smile, nudging him towards your shared hammock.

“I am serious, I can tell. You are my mate, after all.” He huffs, walking through the doors of your tent.

“Shh. It’s fine, my love.” You mutter, lowering him on the floor. “Who knew a little pheromone would make a big man like you crumble.” You giggle, lightening the mood.

Neteyam pulls you towards him, causing you to fall into his warm chest. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, snuzzling into you as he takes a deep breath, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Yours do.” He hums, rubbing his face against your supple skin. “I crumble monthly... for you.” he glances up at you before moving up to your collarbone.

Maybe it was the jealousy you felt earlier, or perhaps it was Lo’ak’s mates overpowering scent, but Neteyam’s innocent touches are sending shivers down your spine. It feels so good – so right. You can’t help but melt into him, rubbing your cheek against his braids, also inhaling his natural scent.

“Thank you, my beloved.” He smiles into your collarbone, sliding his hands up your waist.

“For?” you moan, feeling dizzy.

“Your pheromones. They are making me feel better.” He mumbles into your chest, feeling an immense amount of relief.

The woozy feeling is too intense to ignore anymore. It’s starting to affect your hearing, making Neteyam’s voice into a low echo.

“Hmm?” you hum, not quite understanding what he’s babbling on about.

“When did you learn how to control your pheromones?” He asks, kissing the fleshiness of your breasts.

“I – I don’t know what you are saying.” You moan softly, pushing your chest against him. “I mean... what you’re talking about.” You swallow your spit, struggling with your words. “Nete. I don’t feel so well.” you confess, now seeing two of him kissing your chest.

He looks up at you, seeing your dazed expression. His eyes bulge at the sight, knowing he’s seen this look on your face before – like two weeks ago to be exact.

“Can her heat make me sick, too?” you whisper, although it comes out more as a soft whimper.

“My love... did you not get your heat this month already?” he questions you, already knowing the answer.

“Mmmn, were you not there my nete?” you moan softly, mounting your mate.

He watches as you crawl on top on him, sitting on his pelvis as you wiggle around to find a more comfortable position. Using the back of his hand, he feels your forehead. Sure enough, you're burning up.

“You feel hot, like you have a fever.” He whispers, dropping his hand back down to your waist.

“Mhm... mhm. Feels that way. Think I’m sick, like you.” you hum, your head collapsing into his neck.

“I do not think so, sweetheart.” He chuckles huskily, sliding his hands up to your breasts and kneading them gently.

“I think you are in heat, my little one.”

Pulling back, you look down at him with heavy eyes. “W-what?” you breathe.

“Mhm.” He hums, bucking his hips into you suddenly. “I can smell it.” He looks down at your pelvises rubbing against one another – sticky from your slick.

“I can feel it.” He growls, snapping his gaze back up to yours.

For a moment, you think about how Lo’ak's mate must be feeling. Is it like how you feel now? Or is more intense? You think back to the banshee ride to hometree, about how her hot body nuzzled into yours, heating you up too... how her little mewls and moans filled your ears – how her scent put you on edge.

“Did you like her scent?” you ask breathlessly, trying to recall how it smelled.

Neteyam looks up at you dumbfounded, to be met with your intoxicated expression.

“Yep. You are definitely in heat if you are asking such a question.” He laughs at the fact that you’ve already forgotten what the last hour has been like for him.

Trailing your body with his eyes, he takes in the sight of your sweaty skin, your stiff nipples poking through your top... your flushed cheeks – your lustful facial expression. It dawns on him that you’re reminiscing about Lo’ak’s mate in heat. Now he’s the one who’s jealous.

What better a thing to cause him to succumb his territorial urges?

“Why? Did you?” he breathes, bucking his hips once more – even harder.

You bite your tongue, afraid to admit your true feelings to your mate. That, yes, you were aroused by another woman’s pheromones. They excited you, just like they put you in heat.

“Hmm?” Neteyam lets out a throaty growl, sliding his hands to your hips to squeeze them harshly. “Did you?!” he thrusts into you, making your tender breasts bounce.

“Ugh! F-fuck...maybe.” you confess through strained whimpers, grinding into the hard imprint under his loincloth.

This riles Neteyam up. The thought of you being all hot and bothered by another person, another woman, in heat at that... makes him – horny.

He didn’t quite understand it, he was confused, even. Just a second ago he was jealous, and ready to fuck the sense back into you. But now? The mere thought of the flesh between your legs dampening due to her scent... drives him feral.

“Yeah? And now I have to clean up this mess...” he growls, shoving his hand between your slick covered legs. “...such a fucking slut.” He mumbles, pushing your loincloth to the side and ramming two digits deep inside your slippery cunt.

Under the trance of your heat, Neteyam surrenders to his animalistic urges, ripping the flimsy cloth that covers your breast off your chest with his free hand. He takes your nipple into his mouth in a hurry, nipping at it with his teeth. You yelp out, feeling pleasure from his rough fingering and from the pain in your breast, causing him to pop off your nipple.

“T-take this off me, Nete.” You moan, tugging at the band of your loincloth as you grind even harder into his fingers.

“I want you to beg for it. Beg for me” he demands, hooking his fingers right into your sweet spot.

“Oh! Oh Neteyam!” you cry out, feeling your eyes well up with tears from how good his fingers feel. “Please... I want you inside me!”

“Fuck. Why am I even stretching you?” he hisses, yanking his fingers out of your cunt. “You don’t even fucking need it.”

He raises his hand in front of his face, pulling apart his fingers to reveal thick strings of slick connecting them together. Hurriedly taking his fingers into his mouth, he sucks your sweet, sweet slick clean off his digits, swallowing it hungrily.

Without wasting another second, he rips your loincloth into two, completely deeming it unwearable. He throws the torn, raggedy cloth to the side, gripping you by your hips and forcibly rubbing your hot slit against his loincloth.

His eager movements make you whine loudly, as you make poor attempts to take his covered cock inside of you – desperate for your release. The itchiness inside your womb is unbearable and too deep for just his fingers to scratch. You just want to ram his entire length inside you and grind your hips into his pelvis to satiate the itch.

“Good Eywa. Look at you...” he grunts, “... trying to fuck me through my loincloth.” He lets loose a breathy laugh, watching you actually get the tip in.

“Please... it’s so itchy. Neteyam! I need it. ‘ts burning... Please. P-please!” you beg loudly, shoving your hips down onto him.

“Always talking about your itch, huh? Always so needy...” he hums, ripping his own into two before throwing it into the pile of torn up rubbish.

His cock springs up, slapping against your cunt, making you jolt from the sudden raw touch.

“I – I, oh! Nete. Ugh... just... ngh! do it...” you sob needily, feeling the heat of your body take over.

It feels like your head is spinning, as the room moves rapidly around you, burring your vision completely. Your raggedy breaths turn into heavy pants, silently begging your mate to hurry. You can’t see properly, much less form a rational thought, or say a proper sentence.

“I said...” he digs his nails into your hips, “... I want to hear you beg for me, little one.” He growls, sliding your hips up and down against his shaft, coating it with your thick slick.

The stiffness of his cock rubbing against your clit is like pure bliss, like you could cum from just this. You’re so focused on the feeling that you can’t even hear the echo of his voice anymore. Picking up the pace with your hips, you rock back and forth, rubbing your hot, sticky clit against his member.

“Beg!” he shouts, bringing you back to reality.

“Fuck! Please!” you sob, tears now streaming down your face. “...please, baby. I’m losing it. I need you.” you quiet down into whimper.

Feeling sorry for you, he squeezes your hips and lifts you high enough for him to position his cockhead right at the entrance of your hole. He lingers there, taking a second to look into your watery, drunk eyes.

“Mawey, my good girl. I’m going to sort you out, now.” he moans, shoving your hips down onto his cock, watching his entire length disappear into your tight, wet cunt.

“Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes!” you scream, finally scratching the itch with his cock, rolling your hips around in circles.

“I know. I know, baby.” He hums, allowing you to use him however you see fit.

Neteyam knows exactly how to deal with you - how to calm you, even without his knot, although that’s what you need the most. He’d withhold it from you, until you were a sobbing mess on your knees begging for it.

It usually meant your heat would be longer – more drawn out, but that’s okay because you had your mate with you. He has the stamina to keep up with you, unlike Lo’ak. He worried for his brother and tried to give him a few lessons some time ago in preparation for his mate’s heat, but he didn’t seem very interested.

‘The main thing is to start slow, or you’ll burn up with her.’ His own voice echoes in his head.

He sets a lazy rhythm, pushing his cock as deep as it can go inside you, before pulling out half way and stuffing you all over again. His languid thrusts were enough to keep the emptiness at bay, and deep enough to scratch that maddening itch.

Barely enough.

Your heat’s been induced by another na’vi’s pheromones, jumping starting it a week earlier to sync with hers. It just so happens that this is her first heat – the most intense, hottest heat. It feels like you’re first heat, all over again. The infernal blaze that flickers deep in your chest grows bigger, menacing – insatiable.

“Mmnh! No... ‘tis not enough! Deeper, deeper!” you beg.

You lift your legs to squat on his pelvis, hoping the position will open you up more so that you can drill his hot cock deeper inside of you. Neteyam watches you in shock – brows raised, eyes bulging out his head, lips slightly parted.

You’re panting heavily, grabbing onto his face to pull him into yours as your rest your forehead on his. You search his eyes as you struggle to ram his cock deeper inside, thanks to your shaky legs.

He's astounded by your lewd, insistent body language. He’d only see you act this way so early in your heat when it was your first – when you used him like your own personal fuck toy. You needed leverage, something to hold onto so you could shove more of him inside you.

Wrapping your dainty fingers around his throat, you hold on tightly while you slam your hips into his. The sound of skin smacking against skin and the squelching noises of your cunt permeate the air.

They become louder than your moans, which are toning down into little whimpers as you near your first climax of the day. Your noses brush against one another whilst you pant tiny, sweet mewls into each other’s mouths.

You start to babble, not aware of what you’re saying.

“I love... *slam* this *slam* cock. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Your whisper, your eyes pooling with tears.

“Shit, y/n. Why is your heat so intense?” he lets out a choked whisper, searching your eyes for some trace of you left. "Who knew a little pheromone could make a girl like you crumble?" he laughs.

“I – I don’t know. Just. Shut up. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.” You chant, tears now rolling down your cheeks.

“Woman. You need to slow down. I am going to cum in you... shit.” he breathes into your mouth, pulling back his pelvis slightly.

“Stop. Don't move Nete. I'm almost there.” You chase his pelvis with yours. “More... more, please, more.” You beg quietly, so, so close to cumming.

“Shh... shh, ease up, y/n.” he pleads with you, pushing away your hips.

“Don’t... ngh. Don’t push me away, I’m almost there, teyam!” your soft moans become louder.

“F-fuck. Me too. Ugh - good eywa, you need to... ngh... fucking slow down.” Neteyam whimpers underneath you, dipping his head back as he tries to resist filling you up already.

“...and you need to shove more of this cock inside me!” you cry out, feeling the swell of your sweet spot.

Frustrated with your demanding, whiney behaviour, he decides to put you in your place. You feel his hand snake up your back, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pull you backwards, ripping your hands off his throat.

“Stop – fuck. Stop talking like that!” he raises his voice, on the verge of releasing his essence inside you.

His firm grip has you even more aroused – your body submitting even more to his rough touches. “Just like that! Oh, Eywa. Mark me, already!” you shout, flinging your head back to make space for his teeth.

“Yeah? That’s what you fucking want? Fuck.” he shouts, “Such a needy little thing you are.” He pounces on you, knocking the wind out of you as your back hits the floor.

Grabbing you by your leg, he swings it over to the other side, flipping you on your stomach – cock still deep inside you.

“You wanna be fucked? Hmm? You want my big fucking cock? Yes?” he growls, pinning your head to the ground whilst he shoves his cock even deeper inside you, piercing your bruised cervix with his tip.

“Ohh! Oh f-fuck! Yes Neteyam!” You sob loudly, finally being tamed by his touch. “Mark me... please!” you squeal, backing yourself onto him.

“Quiet.” He growls, giving you a hard thrust.

He crouches over you, panting hot breaths onto your neck, tempted to actually sink his teeth into you.

“One more whiney noise out this filthy mouth of yours and see what fucking happens.” He moves his hand from your head to your face, plunging two fingers into your mouth.

“Make me fucking cum!” You squeal, biting his fingers and spreading your legs even wider, feeling the knots in your muscles unwind.

“Sst!” he hisses, yanking his fingers out your mouth. “Fuck. You earned this, you little slut.”

He holds your hands behind your back by your wrists with one hand, and bites down on your shoulder, hard, locking his jaw onto you as you thrash around.

You feel his fangs pierce through your skin, as you writhe underneath your mate who is now pushing his growing knot at the entrance of your cunt. The pressure is immense – it’s like ecstasy, flooding your empty womb. The itch is being scratched and it feels so good.

“Cumming!” you let loose a hoarse scream, flinging your head back as your entire body shudders under his grip.

He doesn’t let up, he just sinks his teeth even deeper into you, sucking lightly as he holds his position inside you – pinning you down with his bite and grip.

He’s grunting and groaning into your shoulder, closing his eyes to savour the feeling of your pussy pulsating feverishly around his cock, trying to milk its essence directly into your womb. He waits patiently for you to come down from your high, tricking your body into thinking it’s been knotted by staying deep inside your cunt.

As the heat subsides, and the emptiness is filled, you calm down from your high and start to feel the new burning sensation in your shoulder. Your little pants turn into whimpers, feeling the pain radiate down your back. He unlatches from your shoulder and licks the wound with his warm tongue.

“Better, my love?” he pants heavily, still deep inside of you.

“Mhm...” you hum, wincing from the pain in your shoulder.

“I know your little ‘itchy’ sensation is gonna come back the second I pull out of you.” He whispers breathlessly in your ear, moving quickly to lick your wound once more.

Neteyam feels your shaky legs give out underneath you, making you sprawl out flat on the woven mat. He follows your every movement, ensuring to stay inside of you until he catches his breath enough to go another round – he hasn’t gotten his fill yet, after all. Giving you a few more minutes of relief, he slowly pulls out of your cunt, making you whine in the process.

“Ready for round two, ma’ munxta [mate]?” he growls deeply in your ear.

Just like he said, the itchiness comes flooding back in, filling up the deepest parts of your womb. You can’t help but groan from the sensation, frustrated that it’s back so soon.

Pulling out of your gaping hole, he looks down to see a thick rope of your slick connecting you to his throbbing, swollen cock. He yanks you back up onto all fours, smacking your ass as if to say ‘stay put’ while he drops to his knees to shove his nose into your cunt, deeply inhaling your sweet scent.

“Fuck. Everything about you is so... delicious.” He moans, lapping up the juices that drip slowly down your thighs.

----

The days blend as they pass, all consisting of the same things – fucking, cumming, cleaning, sleeping, eating, drinking. The cycle repeats, hour after hour, day after day – night after night. You were insatiable, riding and grinding against his numb cock when he just couldn’t take anymore. In a lot of the moments, he just let you take the lead – but he never allowed you to take his knot. He wouldn’t let a repeat of your first heat happen again.

Neteyam is lying down flat on the mat, completely covered in your pussy juices. He’s panting, unable to take a full breath anymore. His body aches, muscles inflamed and throbbing from carrying you around the tent because you refused to let him pull out.

You cling to your mate, desperate and delirious from the intensity of your heat. It’s still so hot, you wish you could step out of your skin. Not even tsaheylu was helping you.

“Nete...” you look down at your mate through blurry vision, “ah...haah... ha... I can’t take... this anymore.” you sob, tears running down your cheeks.

“Oh, y/n. I’m so sorry... I do not understand why it is lasting so long” his voice cracks, “... but it’s almost over, my love.” He clears his throat, caressing your shaky thighs. “How about we take a break and drink something?” he suggests hopefully, needing a break himself.

You shake your head side to side, struggling to support your sweaty body with your trembling hands on his stomach. The sweat that drips from your forehead pools into the dips of his stomach, mixing with his to form a small puddle. At least your double vision is gone now, and you can hear him clearly.

“Why? Why don’t you just knot me and put me out my misery?” you cry quietly, rocking your hips into him once more.

Neteyam sighs loudly, letting his head drop back into the mat. He stares up at the roof of your tent garnering the energy to repeat himself for the tenth time. He knows you’re not feeling like yourself – that you’re completely out of it.

“My love.” He looks back down at your sticky pelvises, “I cannot. As much as I want to... we cannot. And as the only sane one here... I must be firm with you.” he drops his head back on the mat, still feeling winded.

“Neteyam.” Lo’ak’s shaky, hoarse voice chimes in through his earpiece. “...I can’t keep up with her. There’s no food or water left, and this is lasting way longer than I thought it would. I need your help, brother.”

Finally, a light in the haziness of this torturous three day long heat. Neteyam presses the button on his throat microphone, and lets loose a breathless chuckle, finding this whole ordeal amusing.

“The great Lo’ak! I tried to warn you, start slow or you will burn out.” He smiles to himself, unable to follow his own advice. “...And, uh – I can’t help you.” you grind against his swollen cock, trying to drill it even deeper into you. “...Mmn. I’m tied up myself.” Neteyam looks up into your inebriated eyes. “Thanks to your mate, mine went into heat early. Ask Kiri.” He huffs between heavy pants.

“Kiri? No, bro. You know she’s not going to help me out.” Lo’ak croaks, feeling lightheaded. “Please... Just bring your mate with you.” he begs.

“No, I cannot. She is in heat, are you not hearing?” he responds, using his thumb to rub circles into your sore clit. “Lo’ak - fuck. She’s finally calming down now... if I bring her around your mate’s pheromones, she’s going to milk me dry.” Neteyam curses.

“I don’t care bro, let ‘em at each other. I don’t mind. Please.” Lo’ak begs, out of breath. “Please. I think I’m gonna pass out again... just come.”

Pass out? Shit. I might too. But again? Neteyam thinks.

“Pass out? Again?” he swallows his spit, watching you bite back a moan.

“Bro, you don’t understand. This woman is feral. I don’t even know how many times I’ve knotted her at this point. Please.” Lo’ak pleads desperately with his older brother.

Yes, I do understand. Good Eywa.

“Baby bro. You... you knotted her? I thought I warned you not to.”

Neteyam covers your mouth, feeling your cunt heat up again as your walls clench around his cock. He takes his finger off the button.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum for me again? You better hold it, pretty girl.” Neteyam warns you.

You nod quickly, grunting into his hand as you struggle to withhold your moans. He rewards you with a quick pat on your thigh before he presses the button once more.

“You think I have any say in what’s going on? This woman is using me like a sex toy. All sensation is just gone for me at this point. You don’t understand.” Lo’ak argues, on the verge of tears.

“Agh. I do underst – you know what. Forget it.” He gives up, realizing his brother is also out of it. “Even if I could manage to fly there now, your mate’s pheromones make me sick.”

“Not with your mate in heat too. Hers will keep you calm, just come bro. Hurry... S-she’s pushing me out of her again, hurry... please.” he sobs hysterically.

“Pushing you out of her?” he laughs breathily, watching your hips grind against his.

You hold on to his wrist cups your mouth, picking up the speed of your hips. He looks up at you and sees your eyebrows pinch together – the face you always make before cumming.

“Alright, alright. I need to go. I’ll let you know if I can come.” Neteyam responds quickly, taking his finger off the button.

“Speaking of coming...” he takes his hand off your mouth, “...you can cum for me, now.” he insists, gripping your hips and rocking into you.

“Oh. Neteyam! 'm cumming!” you gasp for air, letting the knots in your stomach unravel as you squirt all over your mate once more.

“Jeez, y/n. I do not understand how you keep making so much cum...” he looks at the mess you made on him before looking back up at you. “Feeling better now, sweetheart?”

You collapse into him, putting all your weight on him as you nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his scent. The itch was insatiable, no matter how many times you came on him, the itch would come right back as soon as he pulled out of you.

“’m sorry Nete...” you pant “...still so itchy... so hot.” You sob quietly into his chest.

“Mawey, my love. You’re okay. It is almost over.” He hums in your ear, drawing circles into your back. “How do you feel about us going to help Lo’ak?”

“Mhm. Mhm.” You moan, closing your eyes.

“Alright, try and sleep, baby. I’ll page Kiri.” He whispers, kissing you on your forehead as he repositions you.

“No! I – I wanna help her, teyam.” You babble, not knowing what you’re saying anymore.

“Oh? Her? I thought we were helping Lo’ak, not his mate.” he chuckles, sitting up and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Let us go, ma’ yawne.”

Neteyam lifts you up, still inside of you, and wraps a sheet around the two of you. He calls for his ikran, who lands not too far from the tent. The walk of shame there wasn’t too bad, as most na’vi were in their tents by this time.

Only a couple na'vi saw you, and quickly turned their heads when they realized what was going on - especially seeing you two bonded. You cling to your mate, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he mounted his ikran.

“Sorry, my sweatheart.” He apologizes, breaking tsaheylu with you so that he can bond with his banshee.

You whine at the sensation, now feeling the full intensity of your heat. Clinging even tighter onto him, you nuzzle your face into the nook of his neck, inhaling deeply. You sleep on the way there, and wake up to the sweet, sweet scent of lionberry and mossy wood...

Note: Damn y’all. I did not plan for it to be this long, but here we are, lol. As much as I wanted him to knot her, I remembered that in ��a synchronous fever’ he said “...and somehow, I have been able to restrain myself from knotting you during your heats.” So, I had to stay true to the story line. Sorry the end was sort of abrupt, I’m hella burnt out, I won’t lie. But I will be doing another part to this – if that’s what you guys want. But I think I’m going to take a day or two to reset! I feel like I’m rewriting the same thing repeatedly (r.e. descriptive words/phrases/nicknames/etc.)

Lo'ak's POV: Inextinguishable

Part II: Twin Flame

Part III: Ashes [aftercare]

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allur1ngs · 11 months ago

Note

funny thought I had: hyo asking reader for dating advice and reader being like “lose the sunglasses” yk cause hyo has pretty eyes and her being like “but I can’t they’re basically a part of me” and “they make me look cool” “dont girls like that sort of thing??”💀 imagine bada overhearing and telling hyo not to get any funny ideas and to focus on her work 😭 — @aericrys

AERI. THIS IS GOLD!! 🕶️

“What, in your opinion, makes a woman attractive?” Hyo asks you.

You pause. You're currently standing on a ladder, about to reach for another book to read from the Lee mansion’s private and extensive library. “Where’s this coming from?”

Hyo sighs, moving to lean against the ceiling-tall bookshelf behind her. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Oh come on Hyo, do I seem like the type of friend to do that?”

Hyo cranes her neck up so she makes eye contact with you, quirking her eyebrow with an unamused expression.

“Okay, maybe I am…” you laugh lightheartedly. “But I promise I won’t this time.”

“And you won’t tell the girls or the Boss either,” Hyo adds.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your bodyguard lets out a dramatic sigh. “I was thinking about getting back into dating–”

“No, way! Really?” You say excitedly, while grabbing the book you wanted.

“Yeah,” Hyo nods. “So I downloaded this dating app–”

“Oh Hyo…” you wince, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “A dating app?”

“What? I thought that’s what people normally do these days,” she says.

“A lot of young people do use dating apps, yes, but mostly for hookups,” you climb up the ladder more, locating another book from your list. “It’s kind of a mixed bag if you want a serious relationship to come from it.”

“Well, I already downloaded it and made a profile,” Hyo huffs. “But all the women I keep matching with suddenly stop messaging me back.”

“Can I see the pictures you have on your profile?” You look down to see Hyo nod, then slowly climb down from the tall ladder, multiple books still cradled in the crook of your arm.

Hyo pulls out her phone, opens the dating app, then shows you her profile.

The pictures aren’t terrible, but they aren’t great either. Although Hyo’s very good at taking photos for other people, it’s clear she hasn’t figured out her angles very well. She has a few taken at slightly awkward angles, but she also looks pretty good in them. You suppose it’s the advantage of being a more masculine woman–you can look good without even trying. And with Hyo already having naturally attractive features, she has a leg up.

“Okay, I already see a massive problem Hyo.” You look over at her, a frown settling on your lips. “You look like you’re scared of the camera in all your pictures.”

“What?” Hyo takes back her phone, squinting at her screen. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” You point at a picture where she’s half smiling, half deadpanning, making an odd combination for an expression. “You look terrified.”

“I’m not–”

“But honestly, you could have gotten away with it if you just did one thing.” You cut her off.

“Wha–”

“Take off your sunglasses!” You exclaim, pointing at the black-tinted shades placed on top of her nose bridge.

“What? No!” Hyo says back, her pitch rising. “I can’t, they’re a part of my look.”

“Your look,” you gesture to her figure, “screams ‘I work for a mafia boss, and you should be scared of me!’”

“No, the sunglasses make me look cool,” Hyo argues back, shaking her head. “Wait… they make me look cool, right?”

“Yes Hyo, they can make you look cool, but coupled with the way you dress and your deadpan attitude, it makes you seem cold through text,” you state. “Taking off your sunglasses will show a more human part of you. Besides, you have nice eyes, you shouldn’t hide them.”

“I don’t know…” Hyo trails off, touching the frames of her sunglasses. She shakes her head, “Okay, then tell me what else I can do to make myself more attractive to women.”

“Quite the interesting question to be asking my fiancée, Hyo.” Bada’s voice suddenly echoes through the library, her tall frame standing right next to the door. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and one eyebrow raised upward as she stares your bodyguard down.

“Bada!” You smile widely at her.

“Hello,” she says, a natural and soft smile finding her lips easily as she approaches you. “I took a break and wanted to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” You glance over at Hyo, who’s frozen still in her spot. “We were just talking about–”

“It’s alright, I heard everything.” Bada interrupts you.

“Oh…” You trail off, then nudge Hyo in an attempt at breaking her out of her stupor.

“All I can say is that women like it when you show them a more vulnerable side of yourself.” Your fiancée stops right in front of you and takes the heavy books you’re carrying out of your arms, holding them like their combined weight is nothing.

You shake your arms, having not even realized that they had begun to ache under the weight of the multiple books you’d been carrying. “Thank you.” You say, latching onto Bada’s unoccupied arm.

“You’re welcome, honey,” she says softly, before glancing at Hyo (who is still rooted in her spot), with mild annoyance. “Next time, instead of asking my fiancée for dating advice, do your job and help her carry her books, Hyo.”

Your bodyguard finally springs to life, nodding rapidly. “Yes, Boss.”

#౨ৎ melody's mafia au #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader #not including the taglist because it's more like a hyo and reader bonding moment w a bit of bada on the side

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yuzukult · 5 months ago

Text

from home 03 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: .......... LMFAOOOOOOOOO SORRY FOLKS I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL... anyways hopefully i copied the right chapter hahahhahahah

“You going to the staff dinner tonight?”

Raising a finger at Hoseok, Jungkook slips his phone from his pocket, skimming through the pages before landing on an app, typing a few things in before he looks up with a saddened expression on his face. “... I guess not.”

“Why? What’s wrong? Why can’t you go?” He turns his phone to show the both of you.

JEON JUNGKOOKACCOUNT BALANCE: ₩33,258.75

“Jungkook!” You and Hoseok in unison exclaim in disbelief. “How the fuck do you only have $30 in there?” Jungkook shrugs, slumping his shoulders as he leans against the conveyor belt. “My mom hasn’t given me the modeling money yet. Our accountant is still calculating all of my earnings. You’d think with how much my parents pay him that he’d work a little faster...”

“We just got paid two days ago,” Hoseok points out, completely baffled as to how Jungkook was able to go through that money so quickly. “What did you do?”

Standing in the middle of Jungkook’s apartment, you and Hoseok just heave out a heavy sigh, shaking your heads in disappointment. He has new curtains, one that makes it easier for the sun to shine through in the mornings which has been an incredibly huge mood booster for him. His futons now have pillows and a blanket to claim their own. Then there was the fridge— full of almost every type of frozen meal from the aisles of the grocery store. And the pantry was an entirely different story; stacks of ramen, chips, cookies— they were practically spilling.

“Jungkook, you need to learn how to control your spending.” You say with great dismay, skimming through the labels of all the ramen bowls and packets that pile on top of each other. “If you keep going at this rate, you’re going to be so broke that you’ll be living on our couches on rotation.”

His face brightens. “You’d let me live on your couch if I needed to?”

Ignoring his question blatantly, you start browsing his apartment with Hoseok. His suitcases and boxes remain full of things that he brought back from the estate which has you going through them in pure amusement. “You guys... wanna help me unpack or something?”

“Unpack or something. Either or.” You pull out a velvet royal blue suit from one of the boxes that’s still in its clear plastic jacket for the outer protective layer. “Jungkook, want to give me a reason why you have this?”

“Oh. That’s this year’s Hugo Boss. Haven’t worn it yet, I needed to get it fitted.”

Your nostrils flare at the words. “... OK, so why do you still have it? You’re a lower middle class guy living in a studio apartment that’s still probably being paid by his parents who have a butt load of money so they honestly don’t even know they’re still putting money into this. Why they hell would you have a suit that’s...” flipping the label around, your jaw nearly pops off when it drops to the floor, “₩665,175,000.00? Jungkook, what the flying fuck—”

“What?” Hoseok drops the bag of chips he’s in the midst of opening from his hands. Despite also coming from money, he was never that rich in comparison to Jungkook. “Yeah, Hobi, you heard that right. $600,000.00 buckaroos. That’s the cost of a house right there.”

“The Jeon estate is actually—“ You place your index finger against Jungkook’s lips to hush him. “Don’t even. You need to sell this suit.”

“Sell—“ Breathless, Jungkook looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t sell a limited edition suit. It was hard to even get it in the first place! What makes you think I’m going to sell it?”

“Because you have 30 bucks to your name.” You respond bluntly before picking up another suit that he has lying underneath the first. “Or sell this one.”

“Not the 2021 Vintage Gucci Men’s Suit!”

“How— One, how can something be vintage if it’s in 2021? And it’s not even 2021 yet?”

The sun begins to set; the rays peering through the curtains gradually dissipates, leaving the three of you sprawled across Jungkook’s new apartment with clothes splattered on every possible surface in the poorly lit room. He still lacked another lamp, but the one his mother left was going to have to do. The staff dinner plans are cancelled, mostly because reorganizing Jungkook’s belongings has been an unanticipatedly gratifying yet a fraught chore that took up more time than predicted. Jungkook was hoping to attend the dinner, but after seeing how much effort you and Hoseok put in trying to make his living space a bit more comfortable, the hope for going to the event has been pushed to the back of his mind.

“Do you guys want to order take-out?” Jungkook suggests, and both you and Hoseok nod while sharing each halves of the futon. “But we’ll pay since you barely have any money. You can get us next time.”

Next time, which means that you guys want to hang out with Jungkook again.

To him, this is a huge step in the friendship direction. Throughout the entirety of his life, having friends had never really been a thing. Sure, he had play-dates per request from his mother, but those kids were fans of the stuff he owned, they didn’t even like him for him. It had become a recurrence up until high school, where the replacement for the need for friendship had been occupied with flings with women instead. People hung around him for the image, but he never felt a connection with anyone.

That was, until he met you and Hoseok.

Although he’d known Hoseok from showing up at the same parties, he never actually got to talk to him on this level until he visited the supermarket that fateful day. He was always the fun guy at parties; attention constantly gravitating toward him, whether he liked it or not, and he came from money as well, so Jungkook wasn’t sure if those people were surrounding him because of it. Sure, Hoseok’s parents weren’t as rich as Jungkook’s, but they were pretty high up there and could afford almost anything they desired.

Yet, he preferred this sight of Hoseok. Baggy hoodie and jeans, skin greasy from spending the day at work then coming to Jungkook’s apartment to unpack. He’s nagging at you for taking up too much space, covering the surface area that Hoseok had claimed to be his under an unspoken contract as you frown when he slaps your leg.

He likes this. There’s no gowns and tuxes in a ballroom with hors d'oeuvres worth the price of a car per bite; there’s no young people at a party, getting wasted and high, fucking in bedrooms that they weren’t sure who it belonged to; there wasn’t a dining room full of both family and strangers that attempted to start small talk about things he didn’t care about— there was none of that. Just comfort from people he genuinely wanted to impress and make proud of him. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way before and he’s barely even known either of you that long. Jungkook has been spending most of his life trying to fill a void in him and has been unsuccessful. He’s finally feeling like he’s going somewhere.

You and Hoseok finally agree on what to eat and he learns that it’s your favorite. Pizza. Extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, spinach with an ungodly amount of jalapeño peppers, Hoseok mentioned earlier that night that your tolerance for spicy foods is stronger than the pits of hell.

“Jesus, how are you eating this?” Jungkook cries, snot dripping from his nose while Hoseok wipes his tears after taking another bite. You sit there, unfazed, picking up the abandoned slices of peppers that sit in the box, dropping them into your mouth. “It’s honestly not that spicy. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Bitch, we are not being dramatic, your stomach is made out of whatever Captain America’s shield is made from...”

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in the midst of your argument with Hoseok and just from the name on his lock screen, his heart drops. Jeon Junghwan.

There were a couple things in life that Jungkook wanted to attain— the acceptance from Junghwan and his parents being on top of that list. Ever since Jungkook was younger, Junghwan had been the golden child, the rest of the four were just barely making it, arduously following in his footsteps. But he failed, he hasn’t been able to win the approval from him.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Mother is having a charity banquet on Saturday. She would have called you but figured it’d be best if I contacted you instead. Something about ‘inspiration’. Please be at the estate at 7:00PM sharp.

Jeon Junghwan [7:55PM]: Goodnight, Junghwan.

“Why does he text like an old man?” Jungkook flinches, head turning sideways to meet with Hoseok hovering over his shoulder. “Junghwan, I mean. But cool, I was supposed to go to that banquet too, until I got called on a shift. Luckily you’re not scheduled.”

“Yeah...” He says quietly, seated on the floor as he leans back against the sides of the futon. “This is the first time I’m seeing my family after moving out. I need to plan this out right.”

“Well, what’s the plan?” Cheeks full of fries, you’re munching away on the other side of Jungkook as he contemplates the next steps he’s going to have to make in order to reach his goal. “One thing is for sure. You’re going to be my date.”

The breath has been stolen away from his lungs and his heart feels like you’ve pierced through his chest cavity and squashed it into the palm of your hands. He doesn’t know what it’s called (maybe a blowout) but the way your hair cascades down to your shoulders is marveling. In a black long dress with a slit that exposes the entirety of your legs, his breath hitches when his eyes meet the skin of your thighs, the spaghetti straps drape over your décolletage with the v-cut neckline only finishing it off right. He thinks this is his fatal moment. He’s never seen you dolled up like this before; cheeks brushed with a peach blush, lashes emphasized with mascara, liner that makes you look even more fierce, and lips... so buttery pink and plump that almost wishes he could—

“Jungkook?” He shivers, immediately pushing the thoughts out of his head. You’d probably stab him in mere seconds if you knew what he was thinking about. “H-Hey. You look good.”

You grin, adjusting the fabric that hangs around your legs. “Thanks, you don’t look so bad yourself. Anyways, let’s get going. You said your brother sent a car for us?”

Even though Jungkook is a model and has posed in magazines in suits, it’s still a surprise to see how stunning he manages to look in person. He keeps his hair casual today, despite the formal attire, but when his fingertips rake through those luscious locks, it makes sense why he went with that decision. If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t believe that this hunk was living off of frozen meals and instant ramen for the past week.

He’s pretty, yet there’s something that you can’t help but loathe about him.

Jungkook is still from money, despite the amount of times you’ve seen him in the supermarket’s uniform and apron. It’s something you’ve been trying to force yourself to remember when you feel yourself slowly falling into the traps of his smile and looks. The reminder is there when a Mercedes Benz S-Class pulls up and Jungkook isn’t as astonished as you are. The window of the driver’s side rolls down, revealing a middle-aged man who wears a chauffeur’s hat and a grin upon his lips. “Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hyungjin,” He dips his head in acknowledgement before saying your name, “... this is my date. This guy has been my driver since I was born. Park Hyungjin. He’s going to be taking us to the estate tonight.”

Jungkook opens the back door for you as you slide in with ease, completely in veneration at the characteristics of the vehicle. It feels luxurious, from the leather seats to the center console, and when you see Hyungjin beginning to raise the customized partition between the front and back seats, you’re shocked it can even do that until Jungkook halts him from doing so. “Uh, sorry, Hyungjin, she’s not one of those nights.”

Oh, you think to yourself, this was a routine. His preceding lifestyle is starting to unfold before you.

Arriving at the ‘estate,’ which was something you’d had been stuck with trying to adjust yourself in calling Jungkook’s family home, it’s an unreservedly different part of the home compared to your first visit however a sudden coldness hits your core from incredulity. How could anyone need a home this big? Jungkook guides you out of the car before you could even register the visuals of the home, waving Hyungjin goodbye and brisk “thank you.”

“Hold my hand.” His fingertips brush against the back of your hand discreetly, and as a reflex, you slap him away while he whimpers in pain. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry. Habit.” When you try to reach for him again, he opts for resting his palm on your lower back instead, keeping you close. “It’s okay. Is this alright?” You nod. “This is better anyway. We look close yet at the same time professional.”

When you step into the ballroom, you quickly learn that your previous time at the Jeon estate had only been a glimpse of what Jungkook’s sumptuous home had to offer. There’s something of a mezzanine or indoor balcony of some sorts with staircases that branch around the perimeter where a couple people stand idly. The chandelier that you saw in the dining room before was no comparison to what was currently hanging from the ceiling right now— there’s diamonds that hang like raindrops, intricately scattered with clear clarity that only the rich could identify and have the opportunity to see in person. The guests are dressed like those diamonds— sparkles and jewels of women that bathed in the crystals, accompanied by men who simply wore tuxedos and suits.

But the real stars of the show were the Jeons. With Mrs. Jeon’s hair in an updo, it accentuates her collarbones and shoulders where her dress lies; a beautiful detailed lavender gown that you can already sense the weight of when she drags it behind her. You see where Jungkook gets his genes from.

The filler music from the orchestra that plays in the corner stops, the chattering along with it as they all divert their attention to the Jeons that stand by the railings of the balcony— the four boys and their dates. All that’s missing is Jungkook who stands beside you, hand graduating from your lower back to your waist.

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Jeon greets, a pearly white smile upon her lips. “I am so thankful for your attendance here. As you know, tonight is dedicated toward the Cancer Research Foundation of Seoul, known as the CRFS, and I will be the host tonight but the true genius behind this all is my son, Jeon Jungsik.”

Jungsik approaches his mother from the side, dressed just as well as the rest of his siblings, shaking his head in disapproval. “Mother, I couldn’t have done this without you,” He says humbly, eyes browsing the crowd but pauses when he sees Jungkook with you by his side. There’s something hidden behind his stare, Jungkook hypothesizes, because his modest brother suddenly wants the spotlight whereas previously, he’d be standing in the audience. He can’t tell if it’s because it’s the first family event where he’s sober or if truly there’s something about Jungsik that’s different. “But tonight is a different kind of night. We’re here today not to just donate what we can to a good cause, but celebrating as well. I’m announcing my engagement with Kim Nari.”

An abrupt realization washes over Jungkook.

Kim Nari. The daughter of a tech mogul whose relationship with Jungsik would further advance the Jeon Corporation and skyrocket their profits. Her marriage with Jungsik would link the two companies together, creating possibilities for what seemed to be impossible. Which brings to question, why would Jungsik be interested in Nari? She’s a reflection in the mirror of Jungkook himself— uncontrollable, spoiled, and dependent with no future planned. Why would Jungsik, someone with passions, dreams, and stability want to be with someone like that? Something was up, and Jungkook can taste the bitterness in his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You ask, but you genuinely don’t care. Anything would be better than listening to conversations that were beginning to start up again at the hasty announcement. Nari has one of her hands sitting upon the rail, waving as if she’s the Queen of England, with a dress that may be deemed inappropriate for a setting like this. It seems that the rest of the family is hearing the engagement for the first time though because Mrs. Jeon looks like she’s going to faint and Mr. Jeon is holding in his anger rather than noticing Nari’s attire.

“Nothing, just... something weird with my brother.” He says before turning to give you his attention again. “Anyway, should I introduce you to my horrific bloodline?”

When Jungkook guides you toward his family members that have begun trickling down the staircase, you’re appearing to have heart palpitations from the suspense. The way the Jeons walk is intimidating alone; shoulders pushed back, straightened posture, and smiles that resemble authenticity on the surface but daggers will be pulled at their disposal if anything goes haywire.

“Mother, Father, this is my girlfriend...” You altogether miss when Jungkook says your name from the sight of his family up close until he squeezes your waist gingerly to capture your awareness again. “Oh, yes, hi,” You bow speedily, “I’m uh, Jungkook’s girlfriend.” Wait. Didn’t he just say that?

“Are you now? Last time we spoke, you said you weren’t,” Mrs. Jeon comments, and albeit her words sound harsh, the draw of her lips upwards say otherwise. It feels a bit forced, but you know it’s from the sudden news coming from Jungsik. There’s a façade of happiness when deep down, she’s disappointed. “We... we met after that night and he treated me to dinner for taking care of him. We’ve been... seeing each other ever since.”

Mr. Jeon stands there in silence, observing the conversation between you and his wife before unexpectedly speaking up. “Did you attend University? And have you graduated yet?”

Jungkook knows what this is. The Interrogation. Every Jeon child’s significant other has gone through this and you were next. He had completely forgotten about it— mostly because his other brothers had gone through it years ago, and Jongseok’s ‘girlfriends’ had never really been girlfriends, so their dad had given up on that until someone serious came by.

He never thought it’d be him before Jongseok.

“Yes, back in 2016.” You state, fingers fidgeting with the metal chain of your purse. It was a simple question yet the way it’s executed is as if he’s searching for a particular answer.

The older gentleman tilts his head, the space between his brows crinkling in perplexity. He looks so much like Jungkook, except matured with wisdom, and if Jungkook was of any replication of his father when he’s that age, he’d probably still have a line of women after him. “So you’re older than Jungkook.”

“No, father,” Jungkook chimes in, “... Quite the opposite. She’s actually a year younger than me. Graduated University rather early. Or... well, she finished high school early.” He can see from his peripheral vision that he has captured the ears of his other siblings that stand languidly. “Gifted, really. Child prodigy. Despite all the talented Jeon children, we’ve never had one of those.”

There’s a glimmer in his father’s eyes. He’s impressed. “Really?” His stiff tone has shifted to a lighter one. “Did you study in Seoul? What was your degree in?”

“No, uh, I actually studied abroad in New York after graduating high school. I was about... maybe fifteen at the time? I chose Food Science— I thought about being a Chef because my inspiration is Guy Fieri but someone told me to be a bit more realistic with my brain so here we are.”

Guy Fieri? Jungkook stifles a laugh at your secretive role model, rubbing your sides comfortingly. It’s something to tease you about later, but right now, you have a job to do. Swoon his father.

Mr. Jeon nods, hands slipping into the front pockets of his slacks. “Remarkable. We could use someone like you in the Jeon Corporation.”

Both you and Jungkook choke, clearing your throats at the sudden suggestion, glancing at one another. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m thinking about opening a chain of restaurants, something high end, something different.” Jungkook’s brothers are stepping in closer to listen shamelessly to the conversation, the look of disarray stamped onto each one of their faces as if it’s the first time they’re hearing this information, for the second time tonight. “I would love it if you gave me your take on how to proceed on some things, and help the chef formulate something that makes sense without him cheating me out on prices. Jungkook, tell Maeri to schedule something for us so I can discuss further details.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” You blurt, palms growing sweaty. “But you just met me, and Jungkook and I just started dating. Are you sure you trust me?” It’s another experience of déjà vu; Jungkook mirroring his father’s actions at the yacht party when he claims that he’d pay for your aspirations.

“Of course. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t have girlfriends.”

Just then, someone taps his shoulder and whispers something ineligible into his ear before he turns to you with his hand extended, and you take the offer with a firm shake. “I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you. Glad to know Jungkook chose someone fitting.” And with that, he leaves.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Mrs. Jeon comments, hand resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems that sending you off to live alone has brought nothing but good impressions on your father. Keep it up, Kook-ah. I’m going to go accompany him, so in the meanwhile, introduce her to your brothers, why don’t you?”

Turning your body to face Jungkook, you let out the hugest breath you’ve ever held in your entire life. “What was that?”

He looks equally as stunned as you. “I don’t know but that went so much better than I actually thought. I think that was the fastest he’s ever been fascinated by any of our girlfriends.”

Jungkook’s father had strict outlooks for the company, one of them being that he wanted nothing but pure Jeon blood leading the corporation. This meant that the significant others of any of his children weren’t allowed to be part of the trade. So why did he ask you particularly for a hand in the family business?

“Jungkook,” One of his brothers calls out, your heads sharply jolting at the sound of his voice.

Have you ever watched Boys Over Flowers? When the Flower 4 walk through any entrance, it’s like time slows down and their hair flows through the wind like they’re models?

That’s what pretty much happens.

“Hyungs.” He says; it’s their own version of a hello and the atmosphere between them is tense. “It’s nice to see you sober, Jungkook.”

His jaw tightens. “I wasn’t an addict, just you so know. Made it easier being around you all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The one you assume is Jongseok from your previous google search waves his hand, disregarding Jungkook’s statement before pointing his finger directly at you. If only you could bite it off along with his rude mannerisms. “Girl toy?”

“Girlfriend,” Jungkook corrects him and his other brothers are intrigued. “This is my girlfriend,...” As he says your name, your eyes immediately are drawn to the woman behind one of the males; shiny caramel colored hair with the simplest white dress that hugs her small waist that still manages to make her look like a goddess with a smile that was so sweet your teeth start to hurt. You recall catching a sight of her in the same magazines that Jungkook featured in and on the posters at the mall whenever you’d walk into a store but how she looked in person was flawless compared to those photos. She was like the real life version of a photoshopped picture.

“This is Hayoung, my brother Junghwan’s wife.”

“Uh, H-H-Hi,” why does she make you so nervous? Do you get anxious around extremely beautiful women? “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” She hums, cheekbones high with her grin. “Kookie never mentioned he had a girlfriend, let alone brought anyone to meet his family before.”

“Kookie?” You reiterate with a mocking tone. He knows you’ll never let him live this down. Least he still had the Guy Fieri thing up his sleeve. “Noona, it would’ve been nice to keep that away from her for a bit. I’m trying to ease her into this madness. She’s probably still recovering from that conversation with our father.”

“As if!” Hayoung counters back. Her husband, Junghwan, wraps an arm around her waist before dipping his head slightly toward you. “I’m Junghwan, Jungkook’s older brother.” He then begins to point at the other gentlemen. “Jonghyun, Jungsik, and Jongseok, respectively.”

Frankly, it had been a lot to unpack for the night, and you assumed that the boxes back at his apartment were a lot, but this was truly a lot. Within an hour, Jungkook introduces you to almost anyone that plays a significant role in his life and elaborates on each of their backgrounds.

Junghwan, his eldest brother, is married to the international supermodel Na Hayoung, and he’s the next in line to inherit the CEO position when his father steps down from the company. He’s been trained all his life for this role, apparently, and it’s evident in how he carries himself. Jonghyun, the second oldest, stands behind Junghwan in the company, supposedly his right hand man when it comes to business, joined at the hip although their personal relationship with each other isn’t as close. He’s also married, Jungkook mentions, but his wife is currently very pregnant and at home. He skips over Jungsik, only because you’ve met him over dinner, but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says that Jungsik is purportedly the angelic Jeon. Lastly was Jongseok, the last sibling before himself, and was described as something along the lines of, “the most useless, right after myself, and if it weren’t for his involvement with the marketing department because of his diploma, he’d be living in a studio apartment downtown, cut off from this family too.” Jungkook’s words, not yours.

The night slowly reaches an end, people scattering to leave the estate, thanking Jungkook’s parents for hosting such a charitable event. Just before you’re about to step out along with Jungkook, his mother had her fingers wrapped around your wrist. “Jungkook, you and your lovely girlfriend should stay the night. Downtown is far and your siblings will be here as well. Maybe you can show her to your bedroom? I know you’ve been missing your bed and well... maybe show her around your childhood home.” She pauses for a moment as Jungkook hesitates as you eye him suspiciously before interrupting his thoughts. “Your father wants to speak to you and your brothers in the morning anyways, so it would be nice for you to stay for breakfast, dear.”

“Are you fucking dense, Jeon Jungkook? I do not want to stay the night here.” Contradicting your angry words, you’re already unlatching the attachment on the straps of your heels, sliding them off while seated on the bay window seats of his bedroom, rubbing the soles of your feet. “I’m sorry,” He mutters weakly, falling on the foot of his bed. “I don’t know how to say no to my mother.”

“Well, quit being a fucking momma’s boy and call an Uber. I want to go home, Jungkook.”

“Uber’s don’t run this late at night in the area. We live too far off the grid.”

“Well, then ask Mr. Hyungjin to pull up in his whip and take us home.”

His face drops, a guilty look pooling in his orbs. “We sent him home. He’s technically off on the weekends. Hyungjin only came out because Junghwan asked for him beforehand.”

You grumble, laying back on the cushions, locks tangling along with your mood. “What are we supposed to do here? Share a bed? What am I supposed to wear to sleep? Did you already ask your housemaids?”

“No,” He answers bleakly, standing up. “But I’ll go ask now. In the meantime, you can watch some TV? Then when I come back you can shower and do whatever you need. I think I have a spare toothbrush for you to borrow. As for the bed thing...” Jungkook looks over at that California King that he misses so much. “... it’s more than big enough for the two of us, I’ll keep my distance from you without a problem.”

Before you can counter the suggestion, he’s already out the door.

Perusing through his bedroom, you soon learn that this ‘room’ of his is the size of your childhood bedroom times five with a closet the size of your apartment with a connecting bathroom that was equivalent in surface area.

Then it has you thinking. Jungkook grew up like this, in a life of grandeur where everything he had, he had a plethora of. Whether it be education, belongings, or the aid of people who tended to every need he had, it never seems to run out. He had a driver since he was born while you struggled to learn how to take the bus alone at the age of 7. Or running out of money to pay for a new notebook for class since you’ve been using the same one for the past two grades in order to save cash so your parents could put food on the table. While Jungkook over here was probably tearing down trees in his yard to make all the paper in the world. What about noticing that you were ahead of the kids in your class? No one seemed to have realized it until you said to someone that you were bored, and needed more challenging material when you got sent to the Principal’s office per request, begging to be with the bigger kids.

If you had the money Jungkook had, you would’ve been able to pay off both yours and your parents’ debt in addition to opening your bakery all within the same year.

But you aren’t Jungkook, and jealousy just runs through your veins alongside the enmity.

Entering through the housemaids’ chambers was a nostalgic feeling that he couldn’t exactly say was his favorite. Sneaking down here during the late hours of the night for quick sex and running back up to his bedroom felt like such a teenager thing to do at the age of twenty, so he instantaneously gave up on that.

There’s two wooden doors to choose from. Nayeon, the house servant he slept with several times before realizing that she had falling for him while thinking it was some forbidden love, and Hana... also a servant that he had sex with until she also fell in love with him.

So which one of them would be less upset about him asking to borrow their sleepwear for his new girlfriend?

Answer to that question: neither because they both slammed their doors on him after asking. He should’ve figured that sooner.

Next stop: Junghwan’s room. Maybe Hayoung had something for you.

He hesitates when he’s standing outside of his brother’s bedroom door. It takes him back to when he was a kid all over again, desperate for his big brother’s attention who didn’t even have enough time to dedicate to him. Taking in a deep breath of courage, he does it yet again, his knuckles tapping against the wood that makes the same knocking sound.

Peeking out, Junghwan looks at Jungkook with a perplexed expression. “Jungkook, what’s up? Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Is noona with you?” He nods. “Yeah, of course. She’s washing her face right now, wanna come in?” Jungkook steps into the room, ambivalent with each movement because he’s never been invited into Junghwan’s room before. It’s almost exactly what his room looks like, except all the shades are dark, varying from grey to navy, with his bed, closet, and bathrooms in the same locations.

“Hayoung, Jungkook is looking for you.”

“Kookie?” Coming out the bathroom with a robe on, her hair is drenched as she attempts to towel dry it, face pretty even without makeup. “What’s up, bub?”

“Uh, my girlfriend,” He starts, rubbing the back of his nape anxiously because he’s never said those words before, “She doesn’t have anything to wear tonight. I have some clothes, but I think she’d feel more comfortable if she at least has some pants.”

“Tell her to sleep in her underwear, what’s the problem?” Because she’s not really my girlfriend, is what he wants to say, but he takes a different approach. “We’re... still in the early stages. So, uh, you know. She’s shy.” She shakes her head with a smile upon her lips. “Okay. Give me a second. I have a bunch of clothes that I left when we used to live here.” With that, she disappears into the closet.

“I’m... proud of you, Jungkook.” Junghwan speaks up, protruding through the silence. Jungkook just stares in bewilderment, unsure what he even did to make Junghwan say those words he had dreamt to hear coming from his eldest brother. “Other than landing a girlfriend who is definitely way out of your league, you’re actually showing some progress living alone. I honestly didn’t really agree with the plan that Jongseok proposed but... I see it’s working well.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jungkook questions. He still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Junghwan hums. “You were able to find a job yourself. I haven’t seen you coming back begging for money again, and you found someone who doesn’t have the facilities to give you the lifestyle that our parents gave us. You found love without money and I think it really makes a person humble.” He’s fiddling with the strings of his sweatpants now, comprehending that the two of them don’t really talk one-on-one. “I know I changed a lot when I met Hayoung.”

“Kookie, I think I have a couple options for you— whoa, why does it feel so sad here?” She remarks, stopping in the midst of her walk toward Jungkook. “You guys... alright?”

“Nothing,” Junghwan responds quickly. “I just wanted to tell Jungkook that I’m proud of him.” This does nothing but prompt Hayoung to roll her eyes, laying out a pair of shorts and a silky baby blue nightgown. “Junghwan is always proud of Kookie, just not always the decision he makes. Anyways,” She completely brushes off the topic that Jungkook wants to hear, but he’ll circle back to that later. He had a pretty girl waiting in his room who had the temper of the Hulk. “I have two options for you to give her. Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll wear the night gown?”

Jungkook scoffs. “If I brought that to her, she’d probably wrap it around my neck and choke me within seconds. Keep the gown, I’m taking the shorts. I’ll let her wear one of my T-shirts.”

“Are you sure?” Hayoung sings and Jungkook tells her he’s almost confident that he’s going to die tonight if he so much reaches the door with that thing in his hands.

Jungkook chucks the shorts at your face while you’re laying on your back on his mattress. “Here you go, Mrs. Fieri. The girls wouldn’t lend me anything because well... I may have slept with them both and they were hopelessly in love with me. Hayoung noona gave me those shorts instead.” He’s babbling on about how rude the housemaids had been when he asked, but you’re canceling his voice out because the coolest chick you’ve ever met just lent you her shorts.

“... Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face but registers that it’s no use. You’re too busy trying to decipher how God decided to gift Hayoung the looks and the personality that you miss when Jungkook leaves the closet, throwing a plain white t-shirt at your direction. It’s huge compared to you, yet seems like it would fit him well. “Go shower. I’ll be in there after you.”

It’s awkward.

So goddamn awkward.

Jungkook is wearing a black T-shirt of some band you can’t recognize because the majority of the print has been worn off paired with grey sweatpants that hug his ass so beautifully. Scratch that. You never thought that. They look soft. That’s what you meant.

While you’re currently occupied with attempting to avoid looking at Jungkook, he can’t stop staring at your exposed legs and notice how small and cute you are. Soft. It’s tempting him to want to wrap his arms around your frame and snuggle his nose into the crook of your neck while inhaling the scent of his body wash on your skin. He wants to blame it on the dry spell he’s having because all he does is work nowadays that once he gets home, he’s completely drained. Alcohol doesn’t even appear in his mind either. Or maybe he genuinely thinks you’re pretty and having you in his bed doesn’t make it any better.

Sitting on the farthest opposite ends of the bed, Jungkook clears his throat. “See? I told you that the bed is way too big for the two of us. Should be easy to steer clear from each other.”

Wrong. Incorrect. You should’ve known that Jungkook would be fallacious.

The sun gleams through the sheer white blinds of his prodigious windows, illuminating your faces on an unironically Sunday morning, emitting a groan from a stiff beside you. Your body feels heavier than usual, almost like something was pressing down on you.

You panic. Were you having a stroke?

After forcing your eyes open from the dry boogers, you can’t believe the sight. Jungkook has his arms and legs tangled in the sheets with yours, nose brushing against your shoulder. He’s so cosy, the most he’s ever been, and the warmth from your body is like a different feeling of home for him. It’s comforting like a cup of hot chocolate during the harsh weather in the Winter or swaddling yourself in a blanket in front of the fireplace. Now knowing how it feels to be in your embrace, he’s not sure if he wants to let go.

“Jungkook, please get the fuck off me.” You bite. Cuddling was not what was discussed in the terms of agreement. Not that there was one but having a buff guy curled up beside you that wasn’t actually dating you was making your heart do cartwheels when it shouldn’t be. He doesn’t seem a bit rattled knowing that he’s snuggling up against you because he scoots even closer. “Five more minutes.” He mutters. His dreams of taking in the aroma of your natural scent mixed in with his shower gel were coming true.

You push him off with as much strength as your body could gather, yet you fail underneath those muscular arms. Those big, thick—

There’s one knock and someone just immediately flings the door open with a gasp.

But then you see them. Jungsik and Jongseok.

You don’t know why but you care about how Jungsik sees you, but you care. He’s the closest to your ideal type— as unrealistic as it is for him to ever have a relationship with you, especially since he has a fiancé now— yet at the same time, he knows you’re ‘dating’ Jungkook, and whether or not he believes it, you’re not sure, but your chances were already wearing thin as it is, even worse now that he’s witnessing you in the same bed as his youngest brother. You may have a teensy weensy little crush on your fake boyfriend’s brother.

“Cute,” He chuckles, already dressed in his daily attire; grey slacks that crop at the ankle and a navy dress shirt that doesn’t button up all the way, hugging tightly around his pecs that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Well, we’re sorry for intruding. Father wants us down for breakfast within an hour. Wake up your boyfriend for us, will you?”

“I’m not sorry,” Jongseok adds with a devilish grin before he quickly shuts the door and leaves promptly with Jungsik. Jungkook hasn’t even moved, not even twitching the slightest bit despite his brothers’ abrupt invasion.

You officially hate Jungkook even more... if that was even possible.

There's an abundance of choices for breakfast foods that sits on the length of the dining room table that you had gotten a glimpse of during your first visit to the Jeon estate, more food than you've ever seen in one place. They had waffles, pancakes, sausages, bacon, toast—all that’s expected of a typical American breakfast laid out like it’s a picture from the Food Network Magazine. He has servants, shuffling through in and out of the room, placing plates and utensils in specific detailed orders before they pull out the heavy upholstered wooden chairs for each and every member of the family in invitation.

"Uh, it's okay, thank you, I got it—" The woman who has her hands gripped on the framing of the seat tightly as she clenches her jaw, has a glare shooting lasers in your direction. Maybe you'd just take the offer and sit instead. She might be one of Jungkook's late night affairs, you never know what she'd do to your food if you didn't comply.

Sticking out like a sore thumb, you settle yourself by your now claimed to-be-boyfriend who sits comfortably in his own seat since he's owned it for two decades now. You, however, it's your first day and you're not even sure how to feel. Hayoung seems to be doing the opposite; eyes shiny from excitement at the sight of all the options that are laid out in front of her. You can agree to her interest, the Belgium waffles that's stacked at the center of the table with a square of butter residing on top makes your mouth water.

"Thank you all for coming," Jungkook's father announces, the chair he's rested on makes him look so tiny at the head of the table. "I want to discuss some matters with all of you and also invite Jungkook's new love into the family. Honestly never thought this day would come where I'd see my most troublesome child make such advancements in a short span of time."

There's reticence along the table, Mrs. Jeon beside him, eyes searching the table for something in particular. "The proceedings with this engagement with Kim Nari, Jungsik. What did you expect would happen with that?"

And there it was. The conversation that had been put off last night due to guests being on the residence. It's because of two of the things that Mr. Jeon stood by when it came to his family and business: no bloodline, no business entrance had been challenged and the Interrogation had never been in place.

"Father," Jungsik clears his throat, pressing his back against the cushion. "I'll have you know that I'm only thinking of the future of our company."

"Without talking to me about it?" He snaps, agitated. He doesn't even care that a complete stranger is sitting at the table with them. "What gives you the right to be the only person to know what's good or not for the company? Why not consult with Jonghyun and Junghwan? Why am I told that no one knew about this?"

"Well, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." He confirms, and the Belgium waffles don't seem as appealing anymore. His firmness makes your stomach queasy, despite not being his current victim. "Terminate your engagement. You don't love her anyways. I don't need any affiliation with a self-obsessed tech company."

"But father—"

"None of that." He shushes his son, laying a beige cloth napkin on his lap. "I'm tired of having to teach you how we run this business. I gave you a percentage of the company and I expect you to know what to do with it, which is not to share it with some airhead who doesn't even understand what her own father's company does." Jungsik's body stiffened at his father's lecture after he made a decision solely for what he believed was beneficial for the family business. "Anyways, let's eat."

"Why do you favor Junghwan over the rest of us?" Jungsik spits, fist slamming against the table. The cups, silverware, and plates trembled underneath his strength, startling you. "I can't believe that I let you walk over us for so long. I can't believe that any of us has let you do it. In reality, none of us get your fortune, just Junghwan. What about the rest of your children? Do you have the only one? Or did mother have an affair for the remaining four?"

Yum, drama. You admit you were getting a little bored last night at the banquet, but his conversation was perking you up in interest. Jungkook oddly remains cool, turning to tap one of the housemaids to pour you some apple juice, patiently waiting for the go to eat.

Jungsik is disparate in this light because he's not the compassionate and gentle soul you had assumed he was during your first encounters and what was seen on the internet. He’s fierce and competitive, in actuality, with this hidden duel behind doors against his eldest brother. The description written of him was all an image that was portrayed to the public and you start to see what Jungkook means now when he says "apparently" or "supposedly" whenever talking about his older brother.

And Jungkook... he's strangely distinctive as well when sitting amongst his siblings. He's quiet, actually, and attentive, but you take note that he mentions before how he often comes to these things under the influence, and that your presence was what halts him from doing so.

"Just eat. We'll talk privately later." Mr. Jeon says through his gritted teeth, tips of his ears fading red from Jungsik talking back.

"I saw you eying that waffle earlier," Jungkook says in a hushed tone, leaning into you. "Want one? I'll grab it for you."

OK, maybe he wasn't that bad. He knows what you like and he’s getting it for you. You’ve waited long enough.

The Jeons are awfully good at pretending the argument between Mr. Jeon and Jungsik didn't occur. Everyone sits in lull, occasionally exchanging comments with whomever sits beside them but consuming their breakfast with glee. It wasn't something you were used to.

When you're back into Jungkook's room, you slip on a jacket that you brought the night before, zipping it up. "Is that... normal?"

"What's normal?"

"That whole thing with Jungsik and your dad. Do they fight often? And do you guys normally just... sit there and forget it even happens afterwards?"

He slides onto the bed one last time, inhaling deeply in the scent of lavender, wishing he could take this bed with him as he absentmindedly responds, "Mmm. Yeah."

What kind of family dynamic is this? "Yeah? And you just... watch?"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? Join in? Take sides? Hell no. It's a different sibling each meal and every time there’s always someone being jealous of someone else. We don’t really get along here and it’s just what we’re used to.”

Treading into Jungkook’s reality was starting to become comprehensible. Almost justifying the way he is, how he’s utterly clueless in basic situations and disconnected he was from the world. Because this is his world; his parents, four brothers, and house full of servants, and he knows nothing outside of it. Their home is completely off the grid, separated from people living regular lives, he even has his own tennis court (you learned from the view from his bedroom), and no one normal has their own private tennis court. His mother has been shielding him his entire life, letting him grow and become a shell of a man in an empty home.

Family isn’t family to him, is what you’ve come to terms with and something he hasn’t yet accepted because he hasn’t seen what a real family looks or feels like. His home isn’t a real home but brimming with employees who work for his family that probably see him more than the people who he called relatives.

It makes you pity him and want to show him what it’s like to be home.

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

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Hi I have a request I’d like to make ^_^

Can you write something where Aemond is a bit shy when he cums, so he’s always burying his face against her neck, but this time reader really wants to see his expressions when he climaxes so she’s on top for the first time. He’s a little taken aback but he can’t deny the view is great. When he almost gets to climaxing he’s like “w-wait! I’m close..!” And she just grabs his jaw, making forced eye contact and proceeds to ride him even harder until he cums.

I LOVE it when people reach out off of anon. Very brave. Much courage.

ANYWAY, your wish is my command. Pls enjoy.

Warnings: As if this needs any. You know there will be smut. NSFW. 18+ Word count: ~1k

Aemond had always been a generous and attentive lover. Despite not having much in the way of sexual experience prior to your marriage, he was a perfectionist and eager to learn. He had spent hours poring over every tome that the Red Keep’s library had to offer on the act of pleasure, and plentiful practice had meant there was never a day that you were left wanting physically.

It had taken a while to convince him to remove his eyepatch in front of you. His claim of “I have no desire to frighten you, my love.” had made your heart ache. He was clearly self conscious of his disfigurement, but you were desperate to see all of him. The night that he had finally relented and allowed you to lift it from his face had been a tender moment for you both. You had pressed gentle kisses to his scar and reassured him that you loved all of him, he didn’t need to hide any parts of himself from you.

Despite this, one of those frustrating factors for you in your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince was that during the act of love he would always hide his face from you at the point of climax. Either by burying his face in the crook of your neck if you lay below him or throwing his head back if he took you from behind. You knew it was fuelled by his insecurity regarding his eye and it bothered you that there was still an element of discomfort for him in your relationship. You were determined to fix it.

You’d tried to outsmart him one morning, sliding down the bed to take him into your mouth, watching his face carefully as you’d bobbed your head back and forth along his thick length. However, as he’d reached the apex of his pleasure, he’d turned his head away into the pillows, leaving you with a mouthful of his spend and an overbearing sense of exasperation.

A week later the two of you lay together in your marital bed, each of you on your side, facing each other. The ever increasing passion of your kisses and the way Aemond’s hands roam the curves of your body make it explicitly clear where things are headed. An idea strikes you.

Hooking a leg over Aemond’s hip, you roll him onto his back, sitting astride his hips.

A slight raise of his eyebrow, that would have been imperceptible to anyone else, lets you know that your actions have shocked your husband and you grin down at him.

“What are you doing, dōna ābrazȳrys?” He asks curiously. Sweet wife.

“Just trying something different, my dragon.” You purr back.

His right eye watches with keen interest as you reach between your bodies, positioning his hardened cock at your entrance before sinking down slowly.

You gasp at the stretch of him and the unexplored depth and angle. This is a new position for both of you, but it is not an unwelcome sensation. From the sharp inhale through his nose that Aemond takes as he grits his teeth, you can tell that he’s enjoying it too.

Gingerly, you begin to grind your hips back and forth against his. Unsure of what you are doing, your lack of experience causes you to hesitate, so you are grateful when Aemond grasps your hips and helps your movements along as he thrusts up into you.

His right eye drinks in the sight of you appreciatively as you ride him. From the contorted expression of pleasure on your face, to the bounce of your breasts and the roll of your hips against his. “Vok.” He whispers, as you move above him. Perfect.

His praise instills you with renewed confidence and you move your hips faster, harder, until Aemond’s grip on you tightens, his breathing becoming ragged. The familiar tensing of his abdominal muscles and pulsating of him inside of you are all you need to feel to know he is close to his end. You smirk down at him.

Panic washes over his features as he attempts to turn his face away. “No, no, I’m close!” He groans.

“I know.” You breathe out, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn him back towards you. “I will look upon your face as you fill me.”

You continue to ride Aemond. The beginnings of his protestations die on his lips as his release takes hold. Your lips part, eyes wide with both wonder and enjoyment as you take in the sight of his pleasure drunk features as he pumps you full of his seed.

His brow is furrowed. The blue iris of his right eye is no longer visible from the dilation of his pupil. The bridge of his nose is scrunched ever so slightly, distorting the positioning of the scar that runs along the left side of his face. His mouth hangs agape as an almost feral sounding grunt escapes him.

You have never seen anything quite so beautiful as your husband in the throes of ecstasy. You cannot quite believe that this is what he has been hiding from you all this time. Your own pleasure is long forgotten to you as you gaze adoringly down at him.

Suddenly he pushes you off of him with a force that causes you to collapse onto your own side of the bed.

“I’m sorry you saw that.” He mutters, turning away from you, clearly distressed.

You reach out a tentative hand, stroking his shoulder. “Aemond, we’ve spoken about this…”

He sighs. “I know, ñuha jorrāelagon, but it is one thing for you to flatter me during idle conversation. It is another entirely for my disfigurement to rob you of your pleasure.” My love.

You pull him gently onto his back, looking down at him with concern. “What do you mean?”

“You saw my face when I…when I- and you didn’t peak.”

Your features soften as you chuckle slightly. “Aemond, you were so breathtaking to me in that moment, that I quite forgot that that was the intention.”

Aemond eyes you suspiciously. “Really?”

You nod. “Aemond, my words to you are not just flattery. I mean it when I say I think you are perfect. Please never hide your face from me again.”

He appears to consider this for a moment before speaking. “Okay, dōna ābrazȳrys. But you must allow me one exception.”

“And what is that?”

Aemond smirks wickedly at you as he lowers himself on the bed. “My face will be hidden when it is between your thighs. No wife of mine will go to sleep unsatisfied.”

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suugarbabe · 5 months ago

Text

Respect the Family

| Chapter 1 |

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of drinking

an: Surprise, it came earlier for you all. I told you things would happen fast once i could write comfortably again. this is the first chapter in the sequel to the Protego Series. click the hyperlink if you haven't read that first. While it isn't necessarily a need for you to read Protego first, it may help you better understand some of the characters personalities and how they function as a family. There will be sections in later chapters that call back to portions of protege that may make you confused if you have not read this series. <3

The reflection in the mirror was someone you didn’t recognize. Yet every time you moved, it moved with you. You applied mascara, the reflection did the same. You glossed your lips, so did the woman looking back at you. A pair of hands landed gently on the woman’s shoulders in the mirror and you felt the pressure on your own. “You look great, hun!” Roxy’s chipper tone was an encouraging attempt to calm your nerves. Pouting slightly you made eye contact through the mirror, “Dunno, Rox. I’m super thankful you got me this job but I’m proper nervous.” Roxy gave your shoulders a squeeze, “It’s alright, hun, happens to all of us. I’m having the bartender bring you a little liquid courage to help with all that.”

You let out a low groan, closing your eyes and using the tips of your forefingers to rub your temples with slight pressure. A clinking of glass on table made you straighten up. A large shot glass filled with clear liquor was sat down in front of you. Looking up you were met with a tall and lean frame of a man. A messy fluff of dirty blonde hair settled and framed his features after he ran his hand through it, “Erm, Rox said you needed this?” His eyes seemed to dance with a mixture of shyness and mischief as his finger pointed toward the shot glass in front of you. You nodded, smiling awkwardly as it felt like your voice was lost in your throat. Taking the glass you threw your head back, clearing the shot in one smooth motion.

The man in front of you let out a low whistle, “That nervous, huh?” You let out a small laugh, adjusting the straps of your outfit in the mirror, “Just a little. First day jitters I guess; we all get them right?” The man smiled back at you, the action reaching his amber eyes. “I’m Lorenzo by the way, erm, Enzo. My friends call me Enzo. You can call me either, w-whatever you like,” his slight stammering made you smile, a real genuine smile and you felt yourself relax slightly. Enzo mirrored your expression, asking for your name in return. You enlighten him, giving him your name before listening to him repeat it to himself like he’s trying to commit it to memory. The way he looks at you, smiles at you, there's something different, you can’t quite put your finger on just what yet.

A voice calls out behind you, “Bunny, you’re up next! Oh, hey Berk, what’re you doing in here?” Enzo’s cheeks turned a blushing pink, “Erm, hey Blaise. Roxy asked me to bring a drink to -” he turned to face you, “I thought you said your name was-” You cut him off with a raise of your hand, “It’s my stage name, you can call me that if you’d like, or any other nickname variation your pretty little head can think of.” You threw him a wink as you stood up, Blaise stepping aside to let you exit towards the stage. Enzo’s eyes never left your figure your entire walk out, his vision trained on the door you walked through. He didn’t notice Blaise walked towards him, now resting against the vanity you were just sat, “Developing a crush on the new girl already, bruv?” Blaise’s teases caused another dusting to cover Enzo’s freckled cheeks before he cleared his throat, “‘Course not. Roxy just asked-”

“Roxy just asked,” Blaise mimicked Enzo with a teasing high pitched tone, “Come off it, mate, you might be able to fool Nott with that shite but you’re not fooling me. Have your looks and your fun, but you know that’s all it can be. You know Riddle’s rule.” Enzo rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, mate, you know I’m not a relationship type of guy. Like you said, I’m just gonna have my fun while I can. You know we haven’t gotten any new faces around here since long before Birdie showed up and she’s like my sister. I’m just enjoying the new fruit.” Blaise clasped a hand on Enzo’s shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that.”

Enzo shoves Blaise’s hand off his shoulder playfully before straightening his vest, smoothing his hands down his chest as he walks out of the dressing room. He makes a b-line for the bar, responding quickly to Birdie when she asks how he’s doing, “Fine!” his voic betrays him at first, high pitched and cracking before he clears his throat, “Erm, fine, doing just fine.” Birdie’s eyebrows raise slightly, “Three fines and a crack? What’s got your pants in a twist huh?” Enzo rolls his eyes, taking a drink order for the man in front of him and turning his back to Birdie while looking for the right liquor. Birdie, ever the persistent one, isn’t too keen on this reaction, “One of the dancers reject you again or something?”

He scoffs at this, “Oh, please, Angel. You know they never reject me.” The playful smirk on Enzo’s face makes Birdie laugh out loud. He hands the drink to the patron in front of him, seemingly getting distracted by the scene over his shoulder. Up on the main stage was something Enzo should’ve expected but wasn’t prepared for. He knew you were a dancer, but he didn’t know you could dance like that. His eyes were trained on your figure as he watched you spin around the pole, the thickness of your thighs sparkling with whatever lotion you had coated yourself in having him in a trance.

When you crawled on your knees to the edge of the stage, picking up muggle money being thrown in your direction he felt his jaw tense reflexively. You sat back on your heels, knees spread wide open as you ran your hands up your body to the suggestive lyrics of the song. You pulsed up and down on your knees slightly as you ran your hands through your hair before leaning back fully, the position making your chest push out more and Enzo’s pants tighten. You flipped over to your stomach before pushing back up to your hands and knees, back arching to put your ass on full display for the patrons as you twirled your head in a circle, your hair whipping around wildly. Bills and galleons started hitting the stage like rainfall and Enzo could feel his grip on the neck of the liquor bottle tighten dangerously.

“She’s a cute one, isn’t she?” Birdie's teasing tone brought Enzo’s focus back from his growing delusions, his cheeks heating exponentially. “Who’s cute?” He wipes the top of the bar with a rag, avoiding eye contact and hoping he can avoid accusation. Unsurprisingly he’s wrong for both, “Bunny, obviously. You’re basically fucking her with your staring, Enzie.” He shakes his head a little more adamantly, a mistake leaving his mouth without him realizing, “That’s not her real name you know.” He stops mid-motion, eyes closing as a low curse leaves his lips in a whisper.

The grin that encompassed Birdie’s face made Enzo’s stomach twist nervously, “Oh! So she introduced herself real name first, huh? She must have looked into those pretty eyes of yours.” She pinched his cheek playfully before being swatted off. “Did you give her a handsome smile, bub? Shoot her a signature wink like you do?” Birdie grinned as she bit into an orange slice from the bar. Enzo huffed in annoyance, “You know, Angel, you’re acting like a fucking tosser. Been hanging out with Nott more lately?” Birdie doubled down, her grin growing knowingly at her friend, “You fucking choked up didn’t you…does this girl make you nervous Enzo?”

Enzo rolled his eyes, taking one last peek at you on the stage, “You know I don’t get nervous, Angel,” he patted his vest pocket, checking for his cigarettes, “I’m going for a smoke, I’ll be back in 15.” Birdie made an ‘okay’ symbol with her fingers, giving him a wink before turning back to her tasks. Enzo took long strides through the club to get to the back door, pushing it open with more force than probably necessary. The outside air was cool on his skin, a relief to the warmth he seemed to be overwhelmed with since meeting you earlier tonight. A chill overcame his body, the hairs on his arm standing up; he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the slam of the back door, “Fucking Salazar, mate you sca-“, he cut him self off when he realized who had come through the door. He expected Blaise or Theo to have followed him out, but he was blessed with a surprise instead.

You sauntered over, still in your stage outfit, the slightest of quirks on the edge of your lips, “Awh, are we mates now, Lorenzo? That’s so sweet of you. Can I bum one?” You nodded toward the pack of cigarettes in his hand. He held them up wordlessly, his own loose on his lips while his eyes followed your every move. You took one from the pack, your glossed lips wrapping around the butt in such an average way yet to Enzo it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. With a snap the tip of your finger was on fire. Lighting your cigarette the flame disappeared and you took a deep inhale.

“The crowd always so eager?” You sat into your hip, voice causing Enzo to repeatedly blink himself out of his daze. “Erm, m’sorry, what?” A soft laugh left through your nose as you took another inhale, smoke billowing from your pillowy lips as you spoke again, “Is the crowd always so eager with all the dancers?” Enzo took a long drag before answering, “Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to boost your ego?” A sly smile toyed on your lips, “Can you do both?” Enzo hummed to himself, trying to hide his growing smile. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about you made it feel like his insides were on fire. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to impress you, intimidate you, or push you up against the brick wall and take you right in the back alley.

Enzo flicked his cigarette, ash tumbling off the end, “Most of the men who come here are pretty mindless, always throwing their money carelessly at any dancer on stage with the delusion that maybe they’ll get to take one of you home. You are one of the more beautiful dancers we have though, I'll give you that much.” You snorted at this, Enzo smiled, “They probably seemed so eager because you’re the new girl. You know, fresh meat to their eyes; the new shiny toy.” You raised your eyebrows at this, nodding as you took your last drag before tossing your cigarette on the ground and crushing it beneath your pump, “So you and them aren’t much different then, huh Lorenzo?” Head tilting to the side, Enzo’s eyes squinted slightly, “Dunno what you mean by that, love, care to enlighten me?”

Maybe it was the responses you were getting on stage that made your confidence flip from earlier in the night. Or maybe it was the three additional shots you had downed with the other dancers backstage as your ‘completed first dance tradition’. Either way you were feeling braver, feeling like you were more in charge of yourself, feeling more like your actual self. “Aren’t I just the new shiny toy to you too?” You took a step closer to Enzo and he took a step back towards the wall as a response. “I don’t mess around with the dancers, Bunny,” Enzo took his last drag as a cover for any facial expression that might give him away. You, however, weren’t buying it.

“That’s not what I heard,” you step closer once more, making Enzo’s back hit the wall and a grunt leave his lips. “I heard Berkshire has a list of dancers he’s shagged, and I was just wondering,” you toyed with one of the buttons on his vest, “am I gonna be added to that list?” You had to tilt your neck slightly to meet his eyes now, but that was exactly your plan. Peering up at him you batted your lashes, the teenset of pouts on your lips. Enzo was thanking every high wizard, Merlin, Salazar, hell even fucking Godric Gryffindor for the strength of his restraint in this moment. He grabbed the wrist of the hand that was toying with his vest, the action so quick it startled you that it even happened. “Oh, Bunny girl, you will never be on that list,” he leaned down now, lips ghosting at the shell of your ear, “but if you really want me that badly, I’d never say no to a pretty girl throwing herself at me so desperately.”

You took a step back from him, trying, and failing, to jerk your wrist away from his grasp, “I’m not acting desperate.” You were insulted at the insinuation. But it seemed like Enzo wasn’t listening as his brows furrowed looking just past your shoulder and then he rolled his eyes, “I have to go, we can do this again your next shift, yeah?” He released you then but the heat from his palm still radiated on your skin as you watched him walk back into the club.

Enzo shook his head a few times, trying to clear his mind of all the horrible and raunchy thoughts that were consuming him about you as he tried to ignore Draco’s voice in his head again, We’re waiting on you, Berk, get your ass in here, NOW. Enzo huffed out an annoyed sigh as he opened the door to Mattheo’s office, all eyes turning to him as he entered. Enzo wore a saccharine grin as he touched his cheek, “What? Got something on my face?” Mattheo wore a less than pleased look as he leaned against the front of his desk, arms crossed over his chest yet still not a wrinkle on his black designer suit. Birdie sat perched on the desk next to him, a smirk on her face as Mattheo spoke. “What the hell took you so long, Berkshire.”

Theo raised his hand as if they were back in school, “I know, call on me, Matty!” Mattheo gave a half-assed wave of his hand, but it was all the permission Theo needed to be his idiot self before he opened his mouth again, “Berk was in the alley with Buuunnnyy.” Theo said the end in a sing-song voice before settling into a quiet giggle as Enzo glared at him, ignoring the glare he was receiving himself from Mattheo. Enzo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off quickly by Mattheo's harsh tone, “Cut it off, Berkshire. And do it now. We don’t have time for you to go gallivanting around with your cock out for the new dancer, not with what we have coming up right now.”

Enzo clicked his tongue in response, “Okay, first off, I don’t go gallivanting my cock around or whatever the fuck you just said. Secondly, I just turned her down in the alley, thank you very much.” Birdie and Blaise both raised their eyebrows before exchanging a look that Enzo did not want to delve into right now. Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose, growling out in slight frustration, “Whatever the fuck it is, stay clear of it. We’ve got more important things to worry about and I need your head on straight, Enzo. You can’t be weakened by some stripper when we’re dealing with the Corvo family.”

Pansy gasped in disbelief, “The Corvo family, are you serious Mattheo?” He braced himself with a hand on his desk, the other grabbing hold of Birdie’s thigh, “Yes, I’m serious, Pans. I know everyone thought they were dormant, but at the last meeting there were rumors.” Draco crossed his arms, “What kind of rumors?”

“Like the kind of rumors that could start a war, Cousin,” Mattheo took a slow glance around the room, making sure everyone took in what he was saying, how serious this information really was. “We have four shipments to get out in the next four weeks; there cannot be any mistakes, do we all have an understanding?” A unified ‘yes, boss’ rang out in the room. “The Corvo’s cannot interrupt this arrangement. The trades we’re doing are creating allyships that are heavily important to our family. No one outside of this room is to be involved. I understand some of the dancers have a suspicion of what we do beyond the club, but as far as anyone else is concerned, it’s all rumors. Outside of the mansion and outside of this room the business is not to be spoken to with anyone. Inside this club, the club is all we speak of, that’s the only business we have and that’s the only thing anyone is concerned about.

“With this mess of rumors concerning the Corvo’s we cannot and will not have any information leaked in any capacity. While we love our Birdie,” Mattheo turned and kissed his girl on the cheek, “we fucking hate rats.” Enzo and Theo made eye contact across the room, both simulating a fake gag at the scene. However, Enzo perked up at the end of Mattheo’s speech, “You know, personally I love a rat, they’re one of my favorites to kill.” Enzo wiggled his eyebrows while cracking his knuckles. Pansy rolled her eyes, “Okay, killer, calm down. If we need you we’ll call for you.” Enzo blew her a kiss. Pansy pretended to catch it mid air before turning her hand and displaying her middle finger.

Mattheo groaned in annoyance, “Alright, if we all understand then there shouldn’t be any problems. You all can go.” Except you Enzo, you stay, Mattheo’s voice rang in Enzo’s head. The other’s all left the room as Enzo took a seat in front of Mattheo’s desk. With the click of the door locking again, Mattheo’s full attention was on Enzo. “Are you sure I don’t have anything to worry about with Bunny? I know I didn’t hire an ugly dancer, I never do and I know how much you enjoy that.” Enzo pulled at his bottom lip, head nodding, “I know, I know, but I swear, Matt. I’m good. I was serious earlier, girl came on to me hard, asked to be my shiny new play toy and everything, I told her it would never happen. You have nothing to worry about. I’m fully focused on the family business.” Mattheo raised his eyebrows, as if to ask one more time if Enzo was sure.

Enzo held his hands up, sincere smile on, “I promise, Mattheo. Bunny means nothing to me.”

#its heeeeeeeeeeere #respect the family #mafia!slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #protego series #enzo berkshire x you #mafia!enzoberkshire #slytherin boys #theo nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #Matthew riddle

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