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evilmenenjoyer · 1 month ago

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Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true.

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm.

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position. “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

#the salesman x reader #salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #the salesman x you #salesman smut #my fics #guess who was too lazy to make a cute banner #next time i promise

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yestrday · 2 months ago

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— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four | five

⇢ neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, freminet + baizhu

introducing ! fontaine is the country of romance, and what could be the peak of romance but marriage? you have sworn your eternal love and fealty to your partner and fontainians are anything but dispassionate lovers! if you're scared that your partner will get too passionate, well.... qui vivra verra.

[ happy new year! is yestr actually being productive?! i did not do mika bc... gasp! yestr is lazy?! who wouldve known! ]

warning ! yandere behavior, bIackma1l, múrder, i feel like im getting lost by own aus so i have to say it again: this is modern teyvat!, hints at poison, jealousy, child assássins?!

— ORDAINER OF INEXORABLE JUDGMENT. neuvillette | ヌヴィレット

[ “clearly, your workplace is not complying with multiple clauses of the Code du Travail, i should—” ]

⇢ before meeting you, neuvillette couldn’t have imagined getting married and settling down for a domestic life. he’d always thought that he’d forever be swamped with trials and paperworks until he hit retirement age. he had no ideal life in mind, only work and justice to occupy his thoughts, until you came along and he found himself exchanging vows with you in a fontainian church.

⇢ he wouldn’t call his current life ‘retirement’ per se, but rather a change of occupation. tending to the house while you left for your job appealed to him more than working day in and day out in courthouses. he had taken up baking and cooking, something to treat the visiting melusines with as they dropped by to check on their father and his partner. neuvillette and a party of chatty melusines having tea and homemade cookies is a common sight to return home to. the melusines are pretty friendly with you, having seen how enamored their father figure is with you. their innocent smiles and cute lil bodies are stress relievers, though not more so than your husband’s gentle smile and firm hands massaging the knots from your shoulders.

⇢ he busies himself with various hobbies once all the chores are out of the way. flip through a book and read out loud to the melusines snuggled on top of him, attempt a baking recipe one of the girls begged him to try, or stroll through the neighborhood to clear his mind. he doesn’t even know he’s so so lonely until he hears your car pull up in the driveway and he immediately jumps up from whatever he’s doing and rushes over to greet you. the first thing you see is your husband peering through the window with a cool composure, but you can see straight through that facade. you see his brows knitted together in worry, his fingers nervously adjusting the hems of his robe, and his eyes eagerly drinking your tired body in as you make it up the steps. you can’t help but smile as you bring him down to your level and kiss him, your big, awkward oaf of a husband.

⇢ is very particular about the water in your household. taps are all filtered, the water dispenser is stocked with only the best brands, and he is oh-so-meticulous when it comes to drawing your baths! he makes sure that the water is at the right temperature, filters out any impurities no matter how minuscule of an atom by his hand, and uses salts and bath bombs according to what he assumes will be your liking for the day. the both of you prioritized the bathroom when building your house, so the bathtub and the surrounding atmosphere is juuust right for a little cuddle time in the bath.

⇢ dragon-born that he is, you have to forgive neuvillette’s tendencies of being a tad too possessive. well, ‘tad’ is a bit underselling it, but you have to understand. the whiskey scent stuck to your wrinkled laundry, the nauseating aroma of another one’s perfume… something dark and guttural creeps from within his depths that he forces himself to repress. you know he’s not one for perfumes, but if you did wear one it would be one that he liked— crisp, fresh, aquatic. not this scent-numbing sweetness that cloys his senses. he’d like to burn the top and its offensive scent away but… he remembers how damn good you look in this v-neck and decides that it’s nothing a lil spin the wash can’t fix.

⇢ luckily, your husband is still on the saner side, so you’re one of the lucky few who might never come across your husband’s violent tendencies. but they still come out, just a bit more… subtly. he massages your stiff shoulders late at night as he puts on a record on the gramophone for you, listening to you rant about your terrible boss. there are a few details that make him pause, and for a second there you thought he was going to pop your arms from their sockets. but he composes himself so quickly that you think you just imagined it. he inquires a bit more, rubbing your back with a generous helping of lavender oil, and you tell it all to him because… why wouldn’t you? this is your sweet, worried husband who is oh-so-wise and amazing!

⇢ the very next day, not your boss but your upper management gets a visit from the maison gardiennage. they’re all in upheaval now that they’ve got the police on them, but neuvillette is sitting at home contently, sipping tea with you in the garden after your office has suddenly called off work for the day. he’s taking glances from his oh-so-interesting novel to watch your face as you reach for another cookie the girls baked, rambling about how miraculous it for your company to generously allow all of you a day-off. he just chuckles and goes back to his book, gratefully accepting a cookie a melusine’s reaches towards his mouth.

“oh, it hardly feels real!” you gush over a cup of rose tea, lounging in the shade of your backyard’s trees while you, neuvillette, and the melusines enjoy a perfect sunny afternoon. “they called the whole day off, it falls on a friday, i get to have a long weekend, and i get to spend it all with you and the girls!” you sigh dreamily. “pinch me neuvi, it feels like a dream!” your husband, picture-perfect in his chair with a book and melusine in his arms, chuckles at your dramatics. “dear, if one measly day off makes you act this way, maybe it’s time for you to find another job. or…” feeling huffy by the mere implication, you abruptly stand up and slam your hands on the table. “no, no, neuvi! i love you, but i can’t possibly have you working again! you deserve it after all these years of hard work! i want you to just sit back and relax and have your awesome partner shower you in money, okay?” he takes your face in his hand, his thumb running along your dark undereyes. you watch as his face, normally so composed yet awkward, contort into a mixture of worry and regret, before finally dissolving into acceptance. “well. that i would allow. so long as you return to by my side at the end of the night.” you giggle and press a kiss into his palm before plopping back down. “so romantic!” you tease. “of course, neuvi! where else would i come back to anyway?” you don’t know it, but the dragon inside him preens at your unknowing admission of ownership as he settles back into his chair and continues his novel with a silent smile on his face.

[ “well girls, that is how marriage ought to be when you are bound to a dragon. ownership of your spouse and in turn, protect your treasure at all times.” ]

— EMISSARY OF SOLITARY INIQUITY. wriothesley | リオセスリ

[ “keep my shirt on, you say? well sure, but you’re the one enjoying the show.” ]

⇢ your darn stud of a husband…! with his cool blue eyes, his large scarred biceps, that cocky smirk when he catches you staring and just… everything about him, he makes you feel like you’re back to the younger you who could only stare yearningly at him from afar. he’s always teasing you, making sure to unbutton the first three buttons just to show off his cleavage… he gets a kick out of seeing you blushing and squeaking when he gets too close wearing nothing but an apron.

⇢ when the two of you moved into the neighborhood, he scared off the neighbors with his cold features and muscled, scarred body, but that’s not quite the case anymore. they quickly got to know him as pretty easygoing and reliable; the community relies on him for a lot of heavy lifting for their projects, and he frequently invites the aunties for tea parties in your backyard. you often come home to the aunties filing out your gate in giggles, slapping you on the shoulder for a job well done securing such a ‘hunk of a man’. you raise your eyebrows at wriothesley, who leans against the door frame with a smug smirk before beckoning you for dinner.

⇢ he’s a little bit hesitant whenever the topic of having kids comes up. he knows he is not his foster parents… and yet the thought of setting these scarred hands on an innocent little life. these hands have ended people— cruel, abusive, and cold-hearted, but people nonetheless. he’s afraid that he might continue the cycle of abuse that he’s been haunted by for so long. wriothesley knows deep down that will never happen; you were there to ground him and keep his wits about him, but his fears still surface whenever the conversation happens. these children would be yours too, and he wants nothing but the best for you and this family.

⇢ when you talk to him about a co-worker hitting on you at work, he isn’t so insecure as to immediately get jealous and possessive. he’s a smug bastard; he knows he’s hot. he’s got aunties telling him, men and women alike eyeing him in the gym, and he’s got you blushing every day like you aren’t married. so he only laughs with you at their meaningless attempts. things get… a bit different when you’re in actual danger. throughout your relationship, wriothesley’s always been the overprotective type. sometimes you think he’s going too far, with the way you’ve seen him throwing hands and crushing skulls at sleazy men trying to grope you in bars. but you haven’t seen anything yet.

⇢ you don’t know. you don’t know his past, don’t know his deeds, don’t know his sins. he’s only ever presented himself as a suave, teasing gentleman. he was as normal as a prison warden could get and he played this role until you said yes to his proposal. you don’t know about life before he was in power. when he was the one behind those bars. you’ve never questioned why he didn’t let you into his workspace or why he was so eager to get away from that life as soon as you two signed the marriage papers.

⇢ and so it sends a shiver down your spine when you see wriothesley so… lifeless. you thought it was a nice surprise, seeing your husband wait for you outside your work, but with the way he’s staring down your co-worker you’re beginning to suspect that he’s not actually there for you. you try pushing him to make him budge, but his muscled body doesn’t move an inch as the slimy rat scampers away from his glare. you call out his name, worriedly, and he blinks a few times before he’s back to his normal, friendly self. you spend the rest of the week in unease, those strangers’ eyes haunting you at the back of your mind.

“look at you,” wriothesley hums, dropping the nearly unconscious person from his grasp. they fall to the alley’s cement ground, heaving and spluttering blood as they try to regain their senses. splotches of black block their vision, the buzz of nightlife so far away and muffled in his ringing ears, and when he tries to prop himself up, the ex-warden’s glare makes them freeze in terror. “i don’t make a habit of hurting people, believe me, but it’s hard to stay calm when i hear some rat is harassing my partner when i’m not there.” he presses a heel into their ruptured throat, indifferent to the ensued coughing and choking. “do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this? to teach you a lesson?” “i don’t— wheeze— don’t know what’re ya talkin’ about—!” at this, wriothesley scowls and he releases them from his heel’s pressure before delivering a swift kick to their shin. they’re sent flying towards a dumpster, their back hitting the metal and sending them back to the concrete. wriothesley approaches them, towering over their bloody figure. they’re ways off from the red district and even if they could scream, their throat is too damaged to even think about it. they can only stare in growing fear as they pray that this… monster before him would spare him. “pleading guilty, huh? too bad.” their eyes roll to the back of their head as his fingers wrap around their throat, crushing their pipe with the eased movements of a murderer. “i’m not some justice system. i’m just here to kill you. plain and simple” he grins at the dying man still weakly struggling to push away his arm. “you understand, right? all’s fair in love and war… or somethin’ like that.”

[ “they said something about me? pay no mind. people like to gossip about handsome people like me.” ]

— SPECTACLE OF PHANTASMAGORIA. lyney | リネ

[ “one moment there is nothing in my palm and the next… tada! roses from the garden! welcome home~” ]

⇢ lyney’s always been the coy, teasing type. he likes to suddenly pull your faces together, breath on your lips as he leans in for a kiss, before his finger slips in a failed cooking and he bounces away laughing as you splutter and gag. he likes to wake up in the morning, innocent stretching as if he doesn’t notice the way his shorts ride up his thighs and your shirt on him hiking up to show his lean physique. he puts on a show— hiding his face as he teases you for being a pervert for enjoying his oh-so-vulnerable body. you blush and finish straightening out your necktie, leaving lyney to laugh as you bolt out the door for work.

⇢ even before you were married, the two of you already enjoy all the stresses and joys that come with being parents. lyney, after all, is the successor of the same orphanage he grew up in. the children there call him ‘father’ and when he introduced you to them, you found yourself taking up the same parent role as your partner. lyney is overjoyed to see you take to the children so well, fondly dropping by the orphanage next door and taking time out of your busy schedule to play with them. when you’re finall off the clock, you see lyney in an apron waving you from the porch surrounded by children leaning over to greet you two. you always have to tighten your grip on the steering wheel whenever you see the sight. it’s like… it’s like… gah, you can’t explain it, but something about this domestic bliss lights up a fire in your loins.

⇢ has a habit of rewarding you after a long day’s work. once he makes sure that all the orphans are settled in for the night, the two of you move to your abode next door so he can soothe the stress from your body. poor thing, he murmurs, finger tickling the shell of your ear as he sets down your plate in front of you. his pretty partner, being bullied by their big, mean boss and their pushy co-workers. lucky for you, you’ve got such an adoring husband ready to take care of you for the rest of the night, huh?

⇢ family. family. he’s had lynette, but to have parents by his side to coddle and cherish him? he’s never grown to know such a feeling. so when he sees you playing with the kids, begrudging in indulging their outlandish requests yet smiling with such fondness… something inside him burns so passionately he thinks it might consume him. by blood, these kids were not his but this must be it. to have a whole and complete family. and to have this family with you, the love of his life! were it not for the tight feeling in his chest, he would’ve thought that this would be a fantastical dream.

⇢ the house of the hearth is just a government recruitment agency under the guise of a loving orphanage, and everyone but you is privy to that information. you don’t recognize your own children following you in the streets or peering into your office windows. the cctvs don’t catch them rustling through your boss’ drawers for black market transactions. why would you, when you come home to them smiling and hugging your legs, begging you for a bedtime story? when you retire for the night, they report to their boss— their Father— and it’s just another day of keeping their family whole and happy.

⇢ you are, after all, are lyney’s weakness. you remain blissfully aware of the many people after your head, hoping to cut deep into snezhnayan government by gaining the upper hand with lyney. so you don’t know how much blood has been shed in your name by the same innocent kids you’ve grown to care for as your own… or the fact that it has been all commanded by your loving and faithful husband, who kisses you on the lips so sweetly every night that you would never know they’ve been long tainted by poison.

“father,” one of his children kneel on the ground, cloaked in black as they ready to deliver their report for the day. “nothing unusual has happened today in the office.” “that’s good news then!” ‘Father’ claps happily as he lounges lazily on his mahogany office desk. despite the smile in his voice and his cheery demeanor, his child doesn’t have to look up to see the cold-hearted eyes of an experienced agency and killer. “nice to know that the new boss has been behaving himself. it took so many of them before they realized what was actually going on!” “yes, father, this new one has been behaving himself but…” his child pauses, cautious to speak what they were about to say. “have you not considered asking mama to move jobs?” lyney sighs and puts a hand on his cheek. “oh dear, believe me i have. in fact, i even said that they didn’t need this job! but, well, you know how stubborn your mama can be. they wouldn’t even hear of it! i hope you and the other children can persuade them but… before that time comes, let’s just support your mama in whatever they want.” the child nods in understanding. they are, after all, the shining example of all their children. they remind him of himself back when he was still under the previous father’s care. “i will try, father. mama has promised to bring cake and have tea time with us when they get off their job so… maybe.” “hehe, your mama really loves you all so. have fun then, dear~”

[ “what do you mean the children have been acting strangely? maybe you’re tired from all that work you’re doing…” ]

— YEARNING FOR UNSEEN DEPTHS. freminet | フレミネ

[ “even though i am the way that i am… i hope i can always make you happy, like you make me.” ]

⇢ your sweet, sweet husband! he’s always hiding those shy blue eyes behind his pale blonde hair, head hunched over some mechanical device or seeking respite in his diving helmet. even after all these years together and eventually getting married, he’s still so shy when it comes to initiating physical contact. someone in this relationship has to, and so it seems to fall on your shoulders to get the hugs and kisses the two of you deserve. it’s not like you’re complaining, not when you can hear that precious squeak when you wrap your arms around his delicate waist and press a giggle-kiss onto his neck while he’s cooking up breakfast.

⇢ he’s a bit insecure about his role in your marriage. it has nothing to do with being a housewife, really! it’s just that… once you’re gone, he’s just so totally lost. at least when you’re there with him he can feel human again instead of some clockwork puppet rusting at home. you would guide him and tell him on what to do instead of him alone fretting and fussing over what he should do and if he would even get it right. you would never hurt him, and yet you get a bit concerned whenever you arrive home and freminet is there waiting for you with his hands nervously wrung together. you have to assure him that you would never get mad at such a sweet and dutiful housewife! only a monster would! and freminet knows that you’re anything but a monster.

⇢ you wouldn’t be able to tell by his face, but whenever you show him off to your co-workers and friends, he’s so over the moon that it’s a wonder he can contain himself. hearing you call him by such sicky-sweet names like ‘honey, dearie, baby, lovely’ while bragging about him has him hiding his face, but it’s only because he feels like the smile on his face looks so stupid! the others gag while you drone on and on about how pretty and amazing your partner is and freminet can only look down on his lap and clenched fists as he squirms in his seat. knowing that you adore him as much as he adores you… it makes his heart beat a mile per minute, something he thought would never happen before he met you.

⇢ he’s deathly scared of losing you. without you, he fears that he’ll revert back to his old self— that soulless, emotionless human more akin to a robot than a person. all his life he thought he would be better off unfeeling and wishing to be born with gears than a heart, but you came by and showed him how colorful life could be with the right person. he doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s so incompetent, so clumsy, so socially inept… how could he ever compare to the wonderful brilliant you?

⇢ he hopes you don’t hate him when he gets rid of these better, more amazing people. they’re usually your co-workers, sometimes strangers who’ve caught your eye, rarely ever your friends (he doesn’t want to make you unhappy). killing is rare for him and something he doesn’t do on a whim, but he fears that once you surround yourself with so many brilliant people you’ll see him for the failure that he is. so, even if it is only a temporary solution, he dons the diving mask and takes them out at the perfect timing. he was raised to be the perfect assassin, so in theory, he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught—

⇢ — except that you know him better than he knows himself. you have a talent for seeing through him that he gets scared that you’ll immediately sus out what he’s done the moment he walks through the door. on these days, he gets clingy and more affectionate, trying to make up for what he’s done. it’s a pleasant surprise to see your taciturn husband fling himself at you and nuzzle his head in your chest without further explanation. usually, people would demand an explanation for the sudden change of behavior… but why would you? you’re not going to complain if freminet decides to shower you with love out of nowhere! freminet in turn is just glad that you’re the way you are. you’ve invested so much love and resources into him… he doesn’t want to waste all of that and throw it all away.

“you’re so cute!” you giggle as you spin freminet around, still cuddled into your chest and pale arms around your torso. “what’s with the sudden love bomb? gosh, how were you born so cute! it doesn’t make sense!” you pepper kisses onto his face as you press him against the sofa, delighting in the way he tries to cover the blush on his freckled cheeks at your over-affectionate behavior. “n-nothing, really…” he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers as you continue to shower him with pecks. you’ve loosened your tie and your white button-down has been wrinkled thoroughly by this sudden love fest. “i just… i love you, [your name]. i love you a lot.” you hum happily at his confession. this was nothing that you didn’t know, but it was still delightful to hear. you hear him suck in a breath, hesitating, before finally letting it out, “do– do you love me too…?” you cease your incessant kissing just to raise a brow at him, an incredulous look on your face. he reddens even further. he knows it’s a stupid question. how could anyone with two eyes ever question your love for your blonde husband? but still… he wants to hear it. even if he’s heard it from you this morning, and the day before, and every day before that… he wants to hear it now. “i love you, silly.” you boop him on the nose, flopping yourself beside him on the couch. he turns to look at you, his ice-blue eyes peering up at you through long lashes. “always have, always will.” you thread your fingers together. his hands, unlike the rest of him, are calloused and rough. hardened by those years of diving, perhaps? or something else? nevertheless, you press his hand to your lips and look at him. “i’ll say it as many times as you want.” you watch as those eyes, usually so taciturn and shy, tear up at your confession. you were so loving, so wonderful… he could hardly believe that you were his. “thank you… thank you, [your name], i just…” he lets out a choked laugh, a rare smile breaking out on those delicate features. “i don’t know… i just feel stupid today.” you hum in understanding, pressing another kiss to each of his fingers while he watches you. “rough day?” you ask, and he simply nods, not wanting to elaborate further. it’s okay. more than okay. you could guess by the metallic tang blooming on your lips on how exactly his day went.

[ “please… please don’t hate me… you don’t deserve this but i… but i don’t want them to realize what kind of person i am!” ]

— BEYOND MORTALITY. baizhu | 白术

[ “look at those dark circles… don’t prioritize your career over your health, okay? do it for me?” ]

⇢ baizhu is always fussing over your health despite being the sickly one, but you suppose that’s in line with him being a doctor. your pretty husband has relocated his clinic to your new home together and continues to enjoy a steady stream of his loyal customers. you worry about baizhu overworking himself while you’re at work, but him being at home puts you at ease. at least changsheng will be able to quickly guide him to bed whenever his chronic illness flares up and he has little qiqi with him… actually, you think you’re more worried about qiqi.

⇢ being married to baizhu comes with the benefit of welcoming qiqi and changsheng into your family. he treats qiqi like his own child despite being an amnesiac girl that he picked off his streets that you’ve grown to also care for her like she was your own daughter. baizhu tells you that you needn’t spoil her so much; she’ll probably forget to put on the new dress you bought for her, but he can’t tell you what to do! baizhu enjoys seeing you fawn over the child, watching in amusement as you desperately try to make her remember your name. it’s been a tough journey, but you are over the moon once she calls you mama/papa. that does make baizhu a tad jealous, something that changsheng teases him about. after all, he’s been with qiqi longer!

⇢ the two of you enjoy your quiet moments together. when night has fallen and qiqi has retired to her room, the two of you sit in the living room as you prepare for another day’s work. only his rustling of prescription papers and your hurried tapping on the keyboard can be heard; not a single conversation passes between you two. even changsheng has drifted off to sleep in the midst of this silence. finishing the last email for the day, you stretch and look to see how baizhu is doing. as always, he’s always so pretty focused on the task before him. his hair is still braided in its usual fashion, and you settle behind him and slowly detangle his locks. he doesn’t glance at you, but he hums in appreciation. his hair, oiled and trimmed at changsheng’s insistence, is soft and glossy as you brush it while you wait for him to finish up.

⇢ although he’s lauded by his patients as kind and selfless, those who don’t know him would think that he has an odd air about him. maybe it’s because his eyes contain a hidden cunning that the people you introduce him to becomes rather wary of him. or is it the way that he talks all politely but with a subtle bite to them? you don’t know why he becomes rather passive-aggressive when you invite someone over to your home, but you’re so enthralled by this change of behavior that you forget to scold him for it. your friends complain about the way baizhu looks at them from head to toe like he’s assessing them. you have to explain that it’s actually a doctor’s habit, some sort of medical procedure… or so baizhu explained once.

⇢ physical ailments are his expertise, mental illnesses he can refer his patients to another doctor, but stupdity is a disease that unfortunately cannot be cured. before he married you, he abhorred the disgusting feelings that stirred inside him whenever he sees you smile at another person. but now that he has married you and you have proclaimed yourself as his, he’s thrown away all self-disgust now that his jealousy has been justified. it’s human nature to feel possessive over someone that is his by right. for your sake, he tries to be as civil as possible… though it becomes impossible whenever he hears them complain about him to you whenever they think he’s out of earshot.

⇢ if they refuse to give the two of you some space, then baizhu surmises that he will have to do it himself. herbal concoctions are his thing, after all. who said it needed to be medicine? changsheng hisses in amusement as he mashes herbs together out in the lawn while you’re snoring away in bed. her eyes flicker to baizhu, face shadowed by the dark of night. before you, he’s always been so civil and logical. aside from his frail constitution, changsheng thinks that his marriage to you might have given her partner another malady.

“hey, baizhu, something’s up with guanxi,” is the first thing you sat when you come back from work. changsheng watches as the doctor’s eye twitches before he forces his lips to smile warmly to greet you. you peck your husband on the cheek. “he’s been coughing and hacking blood since yesterday.” “oh my,” he says in a tone that’s supposed to sound concerned. “that is concerning. go contact him to see when he’s available and i’ll squeeze him into my schedule tomorrow.” you start tp dial his number on your phone, before you stop and after a few seconds of thinking, shake your head. “nah… that wouldn’t work. he gets very awkward around you. says you give him the creeps. i don’t get it! you’re like, the most perfect being to exist.” baizhu giggles when you cup his head into your palms as you admire the beauty that is your husband. you slyly smile and whisper. “don’t tell him, but just for that, i gave him twice more work than he had to do.” and people think he’s sly. they should see you! baizhu laughs at your show of devotion and presses a kiss into one of your palms. “now, now. you can’t make all your friends like me the way you adore me so. but, well… call it coincidence, but i did make your favorite today.” you gasp in delight. “is this my gift for avenging my darling wife?!” he rolls his eyes at your dramatic antics and pinch your cheeks fondly. “mmm, call it a… hm, a celebration feast.”

[ “oh my, and i just had the prescription for that as well. people should trust their local doctors more.” ]

#yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere wriothesley #yandere lyney #yandere freminet #yandere baizhu #yester.writes #yester.au — househusbands 💍

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astrcmoni · 2 months ago

Text

ᯓ☆ star’s midnight caller ☆ᯓ

MASTERLIST

☆ series masterpost: I II III

pairing: billie eilish x sex-hotline-operator!fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut(kinda)

synopsis: in the quiet of the night, you answer a call that pulls you into a world of mystery and intrigue. what starts as a simple conversation with a stranger turns into a connection you never expected, leaving you craving more with each ring.

wc: 2.4k

warnings: light cussing here and there

authors note: let me know what you guys think, i really liked writing this and i want to make a part two. also there’s no smut in this part but the concept of the hotline is sexual (idk if that made sense) anyways imma stop rambling byeee ☆

phone call style story — reader is in bold italics, billie is in blue italics.

————

wednesday 12:43 am — incoming call from +1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC)

“thanks so much, babygirl,” richard says from the other side of the phone, his voice soft, tinged with something like gratitude. “you always know what i need.”

richard is one of your regulars, calling at least twice a week. he likes to imagine that you’re his long-lost girlfriend, reaching out from some parallel universe. you let him ramble, your voice smooth and coaxing, playing into his fantasy like a script you know by heart. a light laugh here, a soft hum there, the occasional breathy moan when it fits the moment.

“anytime, boo,” you reply, fingers already grazing the disconnect button. “take care of yourself, okay?”

the line clicks off, leaving a brief silence that feels heavier than it should. you exhale, stretching your arms above your head as you try to shake off the remnants of his voice. just another call. just another night.

soft light spills through the corners of your room, golden and warm against the pale lavender of your walls. the curtains billow lazily, carried by a breeze that whispers through the cracked window. outside, the city hums—a distant siren wailing, cars rolling down the street below, someone leaning on their horn too long, too loud.

at your desk, you lean forward, catching your reflection in the mirror perched precariously against a stack of books. sticky lip gloss catches the lamplight, glinting like glass. your lashes look decent—lifted enough to remind you of your own femininity. normally, you wouldn’t bother. no one can see you, after all. but it helps, this small ritual. it’s armor in a way, a mask you slip behind before stepping into this role.

“alright,” you mutter, rolling your neck to release the tension settling in your shoulders. “one more call and i’m done.”

the surface beneath your elbows is cluttered—textbooks splayed open, scribbled lab reports fighting for space with overdue bills. it’s not glamorous, but it pays. and it’s enough, for now.

you adjust your headset, letting the padded cups press comfortably against your ears, and clear your throat. the practiced warmth creeps back into your voice as the phone chimes again, flashing another number across the screen.

wednesday 12:49 am — incoming call from +1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, california)

“hello, and thank you for calling the pulse network. this is star speaking.” your voice drops an octave, soft and inviting, the words sliding out like honey. “who do i have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”

there’s a pause on the other end—static filling the silence like a breath held too long. then, a voice cuts through, low, smooth, and distinctly feminine.

“uh…hi?” she sounds hesitant, her voice fraying at the edges like she’s second-guessing herself. “is this…is this a-uh…hotline for…you know?”

your brows knit for a moment before relaxing. most callers know exactly what they want, their voices heavy with intent. but her hesitation feels different. delicate, almost.

“that depends,” you say, leaning forward slightly, your tone light and playful. “what are you looking for, my love?”

she exhales sharply, and you can hear the faint sound of movement—like she’s pacing, the rhythm of her footsteps soft and uneven.

“honestly?” she says after a beat, her voice quieter now. “i don’t even know why i called. jus’ bored, i guess. curious. didn’t think this would even work.”

a smile tugs at your lips, though you bite it back. calls like these are rare, but you don’t mind them. there’s something refreshing about the uncertainty, the lack of pretense.

“well,” you murmur, letting your voice wrap around the words like a velvet ribbon, “we’re here now. go ahead, tell me whatever’s on your mind. no pressure.”

there’s a pause, long enough that you glance at the timer on the screen, wondering if she’s about to hang up. but then she sighs again, the sound softer this time, like she’s giving in.

“is it weird that i’m calling?” she asks, her voice dipping into the quiet like it’s unsure of its place.

“no judgment here, love. everyone has their reasons.” your response is soft, easy, laced with practiced charm. but something about her feels different.

“i don’t even know mine.”

the line falls into silence again, thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of her breathing—steady, almost meditative. it’s the kind of silence that feels like it’s waiting for you to fill it, but instead, you let it linger, listening.

“what’s your name?”

you blink, caught off guard. most callers don’t ask that unless it’s part of the fantasy they’re crafting. most don’t care to know.

“well, what do you want it to be?” you counter, your voice tipping into something playful.

she laughs softly, the sound low and throaty, curling through the line like smoke. “no, that’s not what i asked. i wanna know your name.”

there’s a pause as you weigh her words, the sincerity behind them.

“star,” you say finally, keeping it professional, your tone steady. “you can call me star.”

“what’s your real name?”

her question lands heavier than it should. it’s not forceful, not even intrusive. just curious. like she’s asking for a story rather than a fact.

you hesitate, fingers tracing the edge of your desk absentmindedly. something about her voice makes you want to give in, but you push the temptation aside, slipping easily into deflection.

“you know, most people don’t ask me that,” you murmur. “they usually want to know what i look like, what i’m wearing. things like that.”

“guess i’m not most people, then.”

“come on, you’re telling me you’re not even a little curious?”

she chuckles, warm and low, the kind of laugh that sticks in your chest. “okay, i’ll bite. what are you wearing, star?”

you smirk, leaning back in your chair as the city hums faintly through the open window.

“blue and black pajamas” you reply, your tone light. “lace trim. very cute, if i do say so myself.”

“where’d you get it?”

“some victoria’s secret around my city. they were having a sale.”

“cute.” her voice dips, carrying a hint of a smile. “now, back to my question.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no edge to it. she’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

“you’re just gonna have to call me star. can’t give you my name. not tonight, sorry sweetheart.”

“no, it’s okay.” she pauses, then repeats it, like she’s trying it on. “well, star.” there’s something deliberate about the way she says it, slow and careful, testing its weight. “i’m billie.”

her name sits soft and sure in the air, settling between you like it belongs.

“you seem like a billie.”

“do i?”

“mhm,” you hum, leaning forward against the desk. “so, billie. what do you want to talk about?”

“hmm.” she draws the sound out thoughtfully, the silence stretching just long enough to make you wonder if she’ll answer. “why do you do this?”

the question hits you in a way you don’t expect, cutting through the usual rhythm of calls. most people don’t ask—don’t even think to ask.

you consider lying, giving her something easy, but the weight of her question lingers, tugging at the edges of your honesty.

“it pays the bills,” you admit finally, your voice soft. “and it’s not as bad as people think. i meet some…very…interesting people.”

“like me?”

the corner of your mouth quirks up, her words pulling at something playful in you.

“you tell me. are you interesting?”

“guess that depends.” she pauses, her voice curling with quiet amusement. “you think i’m interesting so far?”

“so far? i’ll give you a solid maybe.”

her laughter spills through the line, warm and unexpected, and it lingers in your room long after it fades.

“oh really? how long have you been doing this?”

“for about…” you pause, eyes flicking up to the ceiling like the answer might be scrawled there. “for about a little over a year now.”

“damn. that’s a long ass time.”

you chuckle, the sound warm and easy. “it is, isn’t it? i don’t know, i don’t mind it though. all i do is answer the phone. sometimes i do schoolwork, cook—small things like that. not like i necessarily have to be fully present for it, as long as i’m paying attention, you know?”

“you’re in school? just exactly how old are you?”

“wait—before we continue, you’re aware it’s a dollar seventy-five per minute, right?”

“uhh, i wasn’t, but i don’t mind it.”

“ooh, so you’re rich then?”

she laughs, a low, honeyed sound that settles in your chest. “i wouldn’t say that. i’d say i’m… comfortable.”

“only rich people say they’re comfortable. but to answer your question, i’m twenty, in my junior year. babe, you?”

“okay, not bad. i’m twenty-three. though i did think you were much older.”

you snort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “not bad? we’re practically the same age.”

“mm, i got about three years on you, so… no,” she laughs, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “what are you majoring in?”

“criminology. mainly forensics and things like that.”

“that’s so fucking cool. so you’re like those people on tv who examine bodies and shit?”

“yeah, but doing it in real life is way different than it looks on tv.” you close your eyes, the memory of your first dissection flashing briefly. “especially lab work. but you get used to it after a while.”

“still, that’s badass. you must be super smart.”

the compliment catches you off guard, heat crawling up your neck. “i guess you could say that,” you mutter, a quiet smile tugging at your lips.

the conversation flows easier after that, like water finding its way downhill. you don’t even realize when you’ve moved to your bed, your headset cast aside as her voice fills your room through the speaker.

she asks you everything—your favorite movies, the hobbies that keep you up at night, the kind of music that makes your soul hum. the questions are simple but intimate, slipping past your usual defenses like she’s known you for years.

and you answer her. honestly, without hesitation. there’s something about her voice, warm and unhurried, that pulls the truth out of you.

you find yourself smiling, more than you have in days, fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair as you lean into the sound of her. it feels oddly intimate—like a late-night call with someone who’s already carved out a space in your life.

“so,” she asks after a lull, her voice soft but curious, “what’s your favorite movie?”

you grin, closing your eyes as you let the answer roll off your tongue. “pulp fiction. it’s a classic, don’t judge me.”

“no judgment. i respect it. but you gotta admit, it’s a little basic.”

“oh, and you’re not basic? let me guess—you’re gonna say something artsy like ‘a clockwork orange’ or whatever.”

“wrong. mine’s ‘the shining.’”

“oh, so you’re a horror girl. noted.”

she laughs, the sound warm and easy, and you realize you don’t want the conversation to end. not yet. not with her voice lingering in your room like this.

“what about you?” you murmur, breaking the soft rhythm of silence that had settled between you.

“hm? what about me?” her voice lilts, curious but guarded.

“what do you do? like for work?”

there’s a pause, long enough that you wonder if she’s going to sidestep the question entirely. but then she exhales, the sound quiet, like she’s carefully letting something go.

“i’m a musician,” she says finally, her words tentative, like they might break if handled too roughly. “or i guess i was… i teach music now.”

her admission catches you off guard, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through the connection. but you don’t press her, sensing that whatever she’s offering is enough for now. instead, you let the conversation drift, carried by the quiet ebb and flow of her voice.

the hours blur like watercolors, the world outside fading until there’s only her.

eventually, her tone softens, the edges of her words rounding with sleep. “it’s getting late. i should let you go,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

you glance at the alarm clock on the wall, the soft red digits blinking 3:35 a.m. back at you. exhaustion tugs at you, but the thought of ending the call feels heavier than it should.

“but…” her hesitation pulls you back to her. “can i call you again? i had a really good time.”

your heart stumbles over itself, a small hitch in your chest. “yeah, of course you can.” your voice dips into something softer, something closer to truth. “i had a good time too.”

“great. goodnight, star.” there’s a smile in her voice, light and unguarded, and it lingers in the air even after she’s gone.

“goodnight, billie.”

the line goes quiet, and for a moment, you sit there, the warmth of her voice still brushing against you like an afterglow.

you slip off your bed, padding into the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. the cool water shocks your skin, but it doesn’t chase away the heat curling low in your stomach.

when you return to your room, the lamp clicks off with a soft snap, plunging the space into shadows broken only by the shifting colors of your tv. you slide under the covers, the faint hum of a late-night rerun filling the silence. the images blur on the screen, but all you can think about is her voice, the way it clung to the edges of the night, soft and sure.

a ding pulls you from your thoughts. your phone glows faintly on the nightstand, and you reach for it, the sudden brightness making you blink.

new transactions — 4:03 a.m.

+1 (254) 783-0184 (dallas, TX) - $26.25

+1 (980) 598-7201 (charlotte, NC) - $43.75

+1 (310) 807-3956 (los angeles, CA) - $315.62

you smile, the corners of your lips twitching up involuntarily. it’s nothing unusual, but tonight it feels different, lighter somehow. you turn the screen off and set the phone back down, a quiet sense of contentment settling over you.

for the first time in a long time, you find yourself looking forward to your next call.

inspired by @whore-era

astrc’s tag list: @zendayasredbottoms @bilsdillldough @billiesrighthand @watercolorskyy @bilssturns ; hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish gf #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x female reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x black girl #billie eilish x black reader

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keferon · 2 months ago

Note

Back again inspired by the Roachbunny for the Lost Light and Hot Rod meeting.

———————————————————————

Lost Light drifted in darkness, among small flickering lights, like twinkling stars.

Content.

His world consisted entirely of these little lights, the endless soft void and the Things-To-Do that’d come from inside.

[Set Course for Coordinates 75-300-AER74]

Lost Light drifted through the darkness of space, passing stars that flickered like the little lights that kept him company.

He could see them best when they bobbed on the edges of his consciousness. If he tried to look at any directly, the little lights were too small and too blurry to focus on for long.

That was okay. As long as he had some around he wasn’t lonely. He could even hear them on occasion, like a whisper in another room. Unidentifiable as anything other than a basic form of sound. The kind that always required a question mark attached.

Sound?

They were very noisy today. Enough that the Lost Light could almost remove the question mark. He liked when there was sound, and lights, and Things-To-Do.

[Engage Landing Protocols]

[Open Loading Bay Doors 1-B]

Oh! Many things To Do today.

The little lights began to settle once more. Some disappeared from the grasp of his consciousness.

Sound. Became sound? Became silent again.

The Lost Light drifted in darkness.

New light appeared on the edge of his consciousness. Bright light. Big light.

Lost Light turned his attention to it.

Warm. Bright. Loud.

Lost Light could feel something.

Awe.

Lost Light felt awe too.

Feel? Lost Light didn’t know he could feel things. Warm and bright, the big light bounded across his vision.

The light didn’t disappear into the soft void like the little lights do. It stayed bright and clear and Lost Light could focus on it. The big light felt real and tangible.

Awe and Wonder and Excited pulsed off of the little sun. It was so bright that Lost Light didn’t notice when the big light bounded close to many little lights.

The big light FLASHED in Surprise.

The little lights all started whispering loudly at once.

The big light sped off, leaving a comet trail across his vision. Lost Light followed it, a pang at the thought of it disappearing.

[Engage Lockdown Procedure]

Oh! A Thing To Do. Big day huh. Lots of stuff happening.

As Lost Light began locking everything up, the comet suddenly hit a wall.

Scared.

Oh?

Why?

The big light began bouncing rapidly around. Many little lights were trailing behind them.

[Engage Interior Defenses]

Oh, that made lights disappear. Been a long time since that Thing To Do was a Thing To Do. There were very few lights around after that one for a long time.

[Target Intruder]

Okay dokey.

Lost Light waited for the targeting system to select the intruder. He wanted to go back to focusing on the big light soon.

Want?

Huh. Forgot what want was.

The security systems locked on and-

Big light?

[Fire On Intruder]

The Things-To-Do thingy said.

Afraid. The big light said.

Lost Light was stuck. He was stuck so long that the Thing To Do came again.

[Fire On Intruder]

Huh? Lost Light didn’t complete the last Thing To Do. If Lost Light did nothing, did that mean the Thing To Do wouldn’t happen?

He tested it.

The big light continued to burn bright. So bright in fact, it was starting to show the contours of the Lost Lights soft void.

Halls. Rooms. Engines. Pipes. Wires. Windows. So so so so so much stuff was just sitting there! The whole time!

And he could feel it all.

Why did it feel familiar?

[Fire On Intruder]

Sheesh! The Things To Do just kept on coming!

And so did the little lights trailing behind the big light.

For the first time in millions of years, Lost Light had something he’d never think he’d have again.

An idea.

If I can do nothing without the Things-To-Do, can I do something without it too?

Lost Light felt for habitual coding and activated it on his own.

A blast door slammed shut, cutting off the little lights from the big light.

Surprise! Came through cleanly. The angry whispers of the others remained muddled and unimportant.

He could feel the big light waver uncertainly. Before a gentle, brushing Hello?

HELLO!

The shockwave of his greeting knocked several of the little lights off completely. The big light only rocked briefly before responding a little louder:

Hello!

HELLO!

Hello!!

HELLO!!!

JoyHappyExcited

JOYHAPPYEXCITEDHAPPYHAPPYJOY

The two of them bounced back and forth for awhile before Lost Light started to have another idea. The more of the void that was burning away (shadow-something, shadow-party?), the more he could feel and think and remember. He could move stuff! A lot of stuff! Because all that stuff? That was his stuff! Stuff made of him!

Lost Light moved walls that hadn’t changed position in a few dozen millennia, rearranging hab suites and hallways until Big Light had a straight shot to where he wanted him to go.

As Big Light trampled through several recently or currently occupied habsuites, Lost Light remembered to shoo out all the little lights before this next bit.

He was a very polite ship you see.

Evacuation sirens blared at just below maximum volume.

Big Light made it to the captains chair, right before the tall panes that made up the very front of Lost Light.

With an almost aching slowness, something began to shift within the ancient ship. Panels opened and unlocked, massive gears began to roll and click into place. Entire thrusters split in half before turning inside out.

Pedes. Servos. Torso. Face.

Senses gone unused for hundreds of thousands of years cycled online.

Lost Light opened his optics. Crossing them, he focused on the Big Light clinging to the bridge of his nose.

The Lost Light smiled at finally being found.

———————————————————————

It’s just too sweet your honor.

Lost Light doesn’t know what’s going on. Everyone else is having varying levels of panic attacks.

Jazz: Did…You know. Lost Light. Was…Uh. A whole… Uh. Guy?

Prowl, Deadlock and Swerve: No.

-SSTP

Oh...oh my god YES PLEASE I LOVE WHEN THINGS ARE DESCRIBED FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF uhhh how do I say it? Someone who isn't human and in fact very very far from being human and can see the world differently? Something like that?? Like yeah tell me what it's like to be a giant alien sapien space ship SHOW ME I WANNA FEEL IT TOO.

Also I ABSOLUTELY LOVE how these two lovely idiots just keep doing the same hello back and forth to each other it's so so cute kdjfndldkdjj

"He was a very polite ship you see" WHEEEEEZEE. Good job honey you're doing great keep going.

Man, I'm always so entertained by this change of perspective ahahaha. I imagine it's like if you find a spider on your table and try to catch it and move away instead of killing it. You're being very polite and kind and careful while the spider is probably calling it's family to say it's last goodbye because it suddenly started going through giant horrors beyond it's comprehension ahahajkflf

OH AND THAT LAST PART WITH RODDY JUST FUCKING. HANGING THERE KGLFMSN I LOVE IT I LOVEITILOVEITILOVEITSOMUCH

#maccadam #tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha lr writing #hot rod #lost light #DAMN THIS WAS SO CUTE #Your writing is charged with emotions it's so fucking cool

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i-dared-myself · 2 months ago

Text

Useless

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: Hi, my love!! How are you? May I please request an ot8 stray kids x 9th member!reader (I love the ones you already made so much!!!) in which she gets in an argument with one of the members and the others take said member's side? Then maybe it could be angst + comfort because she feels hurt and betrayed that they wouldn't listen to her. She tries acting like everything is fine, but she's sort of unconsciously distancing herself because being around them still hurts. And the boys desperately try to make amends. I hope this isn't too much and that it's understandable 😭 English isn't my first language. Ily take care!!

Just as a heads up, reader has some thoughts debating how needed she really is. Nothing too intense, and nothing happens from it, but heads up regardless.

Everyone has defined parts in the group,” the interviewer says. She holds the microphone up to your mouth. “Anything to say about that?”

“Everyone is really talented.” You ignore the flashing of cameras and the crowd calling your name. “Bang Chan is such a great leader and we’re so lucky to have him.”

“And the others?” she presses.

“Oh, well, Han and Changbin are great rappers. We’re lucky to have them with us. Not to mention that Seungmin and Lee Know’s vocals are amazing.” You look past the interviewer to see Chan and Jisung watching you carefully.

You were great with reporters and very level-headed, but incidents happened. Plus, they just like to support the other members.

“Hyunjin is so good at dancing, as are Felix and-“

“And you?” she prompts. She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips slightly. “What do you bring to the group?”

You hesitate. “Pardon?”

“All of the categories are pretty well covered by the others. What do you do?”

Your mouth goes dry. You hadn’t thought of this before.

What did you do?

You weren’t the best rapper. You couldn’t hit the high notes like the others. You stumbled sometimes in dances.

“Uh…” You smooth your hands down the dress you are in. “I’m a good mix of everything. I balance out the group well.”

“But… Isn’t that useless?”

“I- I guess so.” Your voice cracks and you swallow the lump in your throat down.

Chan steps in front of you with his signature time to fix this smile. “Hello, everyone!”

The crowd surges forward and the cameras flash faster and brighter. People are screaming out questions now, and he pointedly ignores them all.

“Our lovely member here,” Chan says, “doesn’t have to be special.”

What?

“She’s just herself.” Chan smiles down at you, unaware of the turmoil rolling through you.

You force a smile and hope it’s as natural-looking as his.

“We need to go for practise,” Chan tells you, loud enough for others to hear. It’s an obvious exit strategy. Security comes to clear a crowd, and Chan walks by your side through it.

His words echoed through your head. Did he really think that little of you? Were you nothing more than just another body?

You climb into the van, popping your ear buds into your ears. You press play on your music and tune the others out. They jostle each other and finally someone falls into you.

“Sorry.” Felix laughs as he turns around to poke Hyunjin’s cheek.

You hum and scroll through your feed. Everything is about how you’re useless. People are posting about how even Chan doesn’t want you around.

Jisung mumbles something to you that you don’t catch. You remove your ear buds to hear him ask, “You good?”

“Yes,” you curtly say. You turn your phone off and place it in your lap.

“Are you sure?” Jeongin cuts in, forehead creased with concern. He reaches out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it off.

“Just leave it, okay?” you snap. You lean away from him and to the window you’re next to. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t seem fine.” Chan’s expression is concerned, but he hides it quickly. “Come on, maybe I can fix it.”

“Maybe you can’t,” you sharply say. “Maybe you’re not as great a leader as you think you are.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’m that great of a leader.” Chan chuckles lightly, but it’s a choked sound. “And does that have something to do with this?”

“No.” You move to return to your music, but Minho wraps his hand around your wrist.

“Seriously, what’s up?” Minho applies gentle pressure, but not enough to hurt. “Tell us before we have to force it out of you.”

“Not by torture,” Jisung clarifies. He frowns at Minho. “I’m pretty sure, at least.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin raises his phone screen for the others. “I think it’s this.”

The all read some of the comments on the video he had found before facing you. Seungmin is the first to speak.

“He’s not wrong. Chan told the truth.”

You tug the dress down to cover more of your legs. “What?”

“You’re special because you’re you.” Felix pats Chan’s back and gives you a disapproving look. “You didn’t have to hurt his feelings like this. You’re overreacting to just a couple of people.”

“Just a couple?” you rasp. You cough to clear your throat. “Everyone’s demanding that I leave the group now!”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Changbin scoffs as he crosses his arms. “Chan was trying to help.”

“But he didn’t!” You wrench yourself from Minho’s grip and end up hitting your head on the side of the van. You bite down the cry that threatens to escape.

“Are you okay?” Chan unbuckles himself and shoots across the vehicle. He wobbles in place before cupping your face. “Oh my- Does she have a concussion?”

“No, she’s fine.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “This is why you’re a good leader. You worry about nothing.”

Chan sighs and settles back in his seat, stretching the belt across his body before clipping it in. “I guess you’re right.”

You rub the tears off your face. “I think I’m gonna skip movie night. I- I wanna practise for the comeback.”

You don’t want there to be any mistakes that could be picked out.

Jeongin suddenly gasps. “Oh! We should watch that new action movie! It has that actor we like! The funny one!”

“It got good reviews.” Seungmin glances around the others, taking in their faces. “I like the idea.”

You wanted to see it, but it was fine. You could wait to watch it later.

“Have fun,” Jisung cheerily says as you’re dropped off at the studio. Minho slides the door shut before you can respond.

You run through all the routines about ten times each before taking a break. You debate it for a moment before picking your phone up and scrolling.

Everyone has been clipping your mistakes and compiling videos comparing you to the other members. All Stays alike have united to declare you the most useless member- even those with different biases.

Actually, when had you ever heard someone say you were their bias? Others heard it all the time, yet those words had never met your ears.

Did everyone hate you? How long had this been going on?

And maybe you cry as you think about it, but that’s between you and the empty building.

So you pick yourself up and you to make yourself better. If Hyunjin can nail these dances, so can you. If Minho can radiate confidence, so can you.

Even if no one cares enough to notice it.

It’s difficult to master, but you eventually can run through it smoothly without fumbling. You’re proud of yourself, enough so that you shut the music off and curl up in the corner. You flick your phone on to see Felix is live.

“What do I think about what Chan said today?” Felix pauses to consider it, tilting his head. Strands of hair flop into his head. “I think words just were misinterpreted.”

You set the phone down and lay on your stanch to watch. You want to see where he goes with this.

“What he meant is that she doesn’t have to be able to bend her elbows backwards or something to be special. She’s just great the way she is.” Felix taps his chin. “Honestly, what I think makes her such an awesome member is that she’s here to support us at all times.”

You watch as his freckles scrunch up as he grins.

“She puts so much effort into making sure that we’re doing well, that we just do better.” Felix reads the comments before humming.

People are all talking about you. They’re bringing up moments where you’ve cared for the others. Like when you reminded Chan to get sleep. When you went out of your way to speak English with Felix. That time you surprised Jisung with merch after his favourite anime character died.

“I remember this one time I was really nervous, and she-“ Felix cuts himself off, the colour draining from his face. He rushes through his goodbyes before the live ends, and you’re left confused.

What just happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, guys!” Felix exclaims as he bursts into the living room. “She’s out at the studio by herself!”

“Yeah, and?” Seungmin props himself up on the couch. “She said she wanted to practise.”

“It’s almost midnight!” Felix hisses, gesturing out the window. “She’s all by herself! What if she walked home and got kidnapped and there’s a ransom-“

“She’ll just phone if she needs someone to pick her up,” Jeongin casually says. He hangs his head off the couch so his hair dangles.

“Except she thinks we’re mad at her!” Changbin snaps to attention and jumps to his feet. “Minho! Call her!”

Minho stops whatever it was he was doing on his phone and brings up your contact. He presses the dial button and it rings twice before you pick up.

“Hello?” Your voice meets their ears when he switches it to speaker.

“Where are you?” Chan demands. He scrubs his hands over his face.

“At the studio?”

Everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“Anyways, I’m about to head home…”

“Nuh-uh! We’ll come get you!” Hyunjin grabs his keys and chucks them at Chan. It bounces off his chest due to him not paying attention.

“Guys, I’m fine.” You sound tired and weary and Felix is filled with guilt. “I’ll just order a car to pick me up. I have a mask and everything. And it’s not like I’m special enough for anyone to recognize me.”

Jisung winces. “You sure?”

“Yup,” you say before ending the call. It beeps before Minho turns it off.

“What did I do?” Chan groans. He sinks onto the couch. “This is all my fault!”

“No, we were the ones who made it worse,” Changbin says firmly. “We’ll deal with this together.”

They sit in silence, occasionally murmuring an idea on how to get you to forgive them. All of them seem measly and not enough.

Then you walk through the door, still in your outfit from the press meeting. Your skin is slick with sweat and you have no jacket.

“It’s cold out!” Chan immediately says before he can stop himself. “You’ll get a cold and- and-“

“Shut up,” Minho mutters to him.

“How did it go?” Hyunjin warily asks. They all scrutinize your expression.

“Good.” You discard your mask before looking up at them all. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“We appreciate you,” Jeongin blurts out. “You’re amazing and great and-“

“You don’t have to say that.” You walk around the group and to the stairs, going up without another word. They hear the water start up before bursting into conversation.

Various insults and accusations are being thrown around until Chan stands up.

“Enough!” He spreads his arms and glowers at them all. They shut up instantly as he radiates leader-mode energy. “We need to deal with this before it blows out of hand!”

“What if we all tell her something we like about her?” Jisung suggests.

Seungmin scowls. “That’s nice and all, but we’re going to run out of ideas since there’s eight of us.”

“So you’re saying you can’t think of at least eight nice things about her?” Hyunjin scoffs and shakes his head.

“No, I’m saying that someone is going to panic and say her ass.” Seungmin stretches out on the couch.

Felix flicks his forehead. “Maybe just don’t think about her ass then.”

“I don’t! But someone,” Seungmin shoots a pointed look at Jisung, “struggles with intrusive thoughts.”

“I can control them,” Jisung weakly says.

“Let’s just scratch that idea.” Chan pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Whats another idea?”

“What about candy?” Jeongin snaps his fingers. “Bribing works!”

“She’s emotionally hurt, not a child who just got a shot,” Minho scolds. He slowly turns to stare at the stairs. “What if…”

“I don’t like that look.” Changbin narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Remember that song she likes and tried to teach us the dance to?” Minho arches an eyebrow as the tips of his ears turn red.

Felix buries his face in his hands. “Not that!”

“I will not degrade myself for her,” Hyunjin announces. “No way am I humiliating myself for-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We have a surprise for you!” Chan declares once you step out of your room. Your hair is still damp as you adjust the hem of your pyjamas.

“What?” You lean against the doorframe.

“First of all, we’re so sorry for-“ Chan begins.

You hold up a hand. “I forgive you. I’m just a little mad, but it’s better than before. Felix’s live helped clear some stuff up.”

“Jisung.” Chan nods to the man, who presses his phone. Music starts playing, and your eyes widen.

“You guys did this for me?” You gasp and cover your mouth as Beyoncé starts blasting.

They don’t respond, too concentrated on the ‘Single Ladies’ dance. You watch in giddy delight as they go through the movements.

When they finish, you clap as loudly as you can.

“You’re forgiven,” you say. You brandish a finger at them threateningly. “But don’t do anything like this again. Or else.”

You walk away, hearing them whisper about what it is your vengeance could possibly consist of.

@captainchrisstan

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #request #angst and comfort

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daycourtofficial · 11 months ago

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Wingspan Matters

Summary: based on this request, you, Nesta, and Feyre catch your mates in a pissing contest over their wingspans

Author’s note: silly little crack hehe

Word count: ~1k

You poured yourself another cup of tea as Feyre and Nesta began squabbling over something you really couldn’t bring yourself to care about. You looked out the window, taking in the nice spring weather. A light breeze was flowing through the trees, causing the branches to move in a dance to the wind’s patterns.

You watch as the birds flit by, their song a lament to the end of winter, as if they too were sending their thanks to the Mother for spring to return. It’s the first warm day in months, the first day that your forearms won’t get cold being exposed to the air.

The life around you seems to dance and sing at the joyous return of spring - insects buzz past the windows, their high pitched frequencies a delight to your ears. You don’t let yourself think for too long about how the resurrection of spring will cause Cassian to snore even louder than before.

Perhaps you and Azriel can plan an escape to the Summer Court for a few weeks. Hopefully the distance and the crashing of waves will be enough to block out Cassian’s loud snoring.

You get lost in a daydream of laying on the beach with Azriel, either in the sand or in hammocks, applying a protective balm to his wings. The sun is warm on your skin, the salty spray of the ocean in your hair.

Muffled shouting disturbs both your daydream and whatever quarrel Nesta and Feyre were in the middle of. The three of you open the doors to the balcony, leaning over the railing to find your mates in a circle in a clearing on the property, their tan skin and large, dark wings making them stand out amidst the greenery that surrounds them.

Azriel was standing to the side, looking incredibly smug with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches his two brothers. Cassian has a piece of ribbon that he was holding up to Rhysand’s back. The two kept bickering, over what you couldn’t discern.

Before any of you could question what the two were discussing, Rhysand took the ribbon from Cassian and pushed him off. Cassian landed on the ground, but immediately sprung back up, his hands coming up and shoving Rhysand off the rock he was perched on.

“Looks like the bats are finally measuring themselves,” Nesta muses, bringing her cup to her lips.

You could hear Rhys’s laugh from the balcony as he sprung up, keeping low to the ground as he charged at Cassian, his shoulder hitting Cassian’s hips. He pushed Cassian into the ground, causing Cassian to push his weight upwards so the two of them begin rolling around on the ground, punches and curses being shared to and fro.

Feyre chuckles, “it seems Azriel’s already won.”

Nesta peers back to you over her cup, “I don’t think it’s just Azriel that’s won.”

“Don’t draw yourself up too short, Nes. I think Cassian’s in second place.”

Nesta looks back at you, eyes roaming up and down your frame, “I’m more surprised he hasn’t broken you in half yet.”

Feyre laughs as you reply, “you’d be more surprised if you saw some of the things we do.”

You waggle your eyebrows at Nesta as Feyre continues laughing, but Nesta’s not quick enough to hide her smirk without your notice.

“How long do we wait until we have them measure Feyre’s wings?” you ask.

Feyre thinks for a moment, hand on her chin, “maybe when Azriel gets a little too cocky.”

“Or Rhysand gets too pouty,” Nesta adds.

From across the courtyard, you could see Azriel’s amused smirk as his eyes met yours, a light tug on the bond urging you to keep your gaze on him. You smile, pulling back softly. He raises his eyebrows up and down a few times, and you send some amusement down the bond as you roll your eyes at him.

He stretches his wings out at your attention, making them as large as he can. You’re pretty certain you’ve seen birds do similar things in mating rituals, but the unfortunate thing is seems to actually be working on you.

He looks over to his brothers, still rolling around in the dirt, and gently takes off for a short flight up to the balcony the three of you are on. He lands softly in front of you, his wings creating a small wind, his chest glowing in the sunlight as his hands reach for you, pulling you into him by your hips.

You melt into him, arms going around his waist, your head resting over his heart as he supports your weight with the railing behind him. The warmth from his skin is soothing without being overbearingly hot.

“They make me want to gag,” Nesta tells Feyre, and you move your head so you can see the two pairs of eyes looking back to the two of you. Azriel wraps his wings around you, making you nearly impossible to see if it weren’t for your feet. You can hear the smile on Nesta’s face at her words, though.

You weasel an opening between Azriel’s arms so you can make eye contact with Nesta as you tell her, “he makes me gag too,” as you make an obscene gesture with your hand.

Nesta’s face immediately goes into her hands while Feyre chuckles, but her laughs are drowned out by the male in front of you, his laugh rumbling in his chest beneath your ear.

He peers down at you, one eyebrow raised in question. You nod slightly, and the two of you vanish into his shadows, leaving Feyre and Nesta to watch their mates continue to fight in the dirt, forgetting who really won the competition.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)

Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.

His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision.

These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask.

The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days.

He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate.

You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye.

“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear.

“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window.

Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak.

You peek over at him again.

He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him.

“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change.

Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.

“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side.

Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye.

You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt.

“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply.

The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up.

“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist.

A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it.

The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger.

“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath.

It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing.

“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”

“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”

“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”

He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way.

You, however, press yourself back into him.

Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.

You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.

Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust.

“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips.

“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”

It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do.

He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound.

The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in.

“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up.

His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears.

“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment.

“No—no one else—”

“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”

You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Your eyes slip shut.

“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.”

Your eyes spring wide open.

He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes.

When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus.

The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist.

“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.

“‘M sweaty,” you complain.

“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”

“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—”

He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone.

“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.

“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.

His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost/reader #ghost cod

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cameronsprincess · 3 months ago

Note

okok hot cocoa and a movie w rafe and his gf on a late night drive maybe after a fight?????? 🤗🤗🤗 u can make it smutty or angsty or fluffy

i’m honestly thinking all three, angsty smutty fluff😏🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! bf!rafe, gf!reader, strong language, slight angst, piv sex, car sex, semi public sex, fluffy ending w soft!rafe<3

join the 5k celly here!

you lean your head against the window of your boyfriends truck, nothing but the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence that surrounds the two of you.

the night was going well, until it wasn’t. you and rafe argued a lot, but it had never reached the point it did tonight. the thoughts of all the harsh things you both spewed at one other makes your chest tighten.

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second.

“rafe…” you whisper, shifting in your seat so you’re facing him completely.

his hard blue eyes glance at you for a second, quickly placing them back on the road before he speaks.

“what, y/n… i’m really not in the fucking mood to talk to you right now.”

you breathe out a sigh, rolling your eyes. “then why the fuck did we go on a drive, huh? if you can’t even fucking talk to me, what was the fucking point in this?”

his hands tighten around the steering wheel once more, a heavy sigh pushing from his chest.

“i needed to fucking clear my head, after you…” he pauses, trying to calm himself before continuing, “fuck, after you said some of the shit you did, throwing low blows about my relationship with my dad my way, telling me that i’m a fuck up, i needed to fucking get out of that house… you are the one who asked to come with me, i would’ve much preferred you stayed home.”

his words hit you hard, slapping you in the face and twisting tightly around your stomach. your face drops, a slight frown on your lips as tears begin to fill your eyes. you know you shouldn’t have thrown his strained relationship with his father in his face, using it as ammo in your ploy to hurt him, and you definitely shouldn’t have called him a fuck up, knowing full well he hears that enough from his father and a few others.

rafe wasn’t a fuck up— far from it actually— you were just so angry, the words spilled from your lips before you could even give them a second thought.

“rafe, i-” you begin, but his loud, booming voice rings through the air, cutting you off.

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.”

you gasp, his words slicing right through your heart.

“fuck you, rafe! god, i’m trying to make things better, but you’re being a fucking dick! and you wonder why i said the shit i said earlier, it’s because you act like this! you’re a fucking child! learn to grow up and communicate.”

rafe slams on the breaks so hard you jolt forward, your palms slapping against the dash of the truck. you push back, eyes narrowed on him. “what the fuck, rafe! are you fucking crazy? fucking drive the truck, now!” you shout, hands shaking and breathing choppy.

he ignores you, simply pressing his foot on the gas and speeding down the road, his tires slightly screeching as he does. you press your back firmly against the seat, arms crossed over your chest as you watch dim street lights and dark outlines of the trees fly by.

rafe makes a sharp right turn, pulling his truck into an empty, dark parking lot. he places the truck in park, quickly killing the engine and tossing the keys to the floorboard. you run a hand down your face, a scoff leaving your lips.

“why the fuck are we here? take me the fuck home.”

he doesn’t answer, his silence slowly grating on your nerves.

“rafe! are you gonna say anythin-”

he cuts off your words, his hand reaching out and wrapping tightly around your throat. you wrap a hand around his wrist, trying to pry him off, but it’s no use. his fingers tighten around the expanse of your neck, pressing firmly into your pulse point. he gives a low hum, leaning his face in close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?”

your eyes find his, the normally bright and shining blue now dark. you inch your face closer to his the best you can, and it’s just enough to press your lips against his. rafe groans, releasing your throat, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you further into him. his tongue shoves its way past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours perfectly.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his shirt and pushing him back. both of your heavy breathing fills the cramped space of his truck, your eyes darting across his face, “rafe…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you say another word.

he fumbles with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans before popping the button and slowly guiding the zipper down. he removes the rough denim from his lower body, his boxers going with them. your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock, his tip swollen and already dripping with his arousal. he reaches over the center console, hands gripping your hips tightly and yanking you into his lap.

a low groan escapes him when your covered core rubs across his length, making him twitch beneath you. his hands pull at the waistband of your cotton shorts and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs. he tosses them into the passenger seat, one hand firmly gripping at your hip while the other fists his cock, jerking himself as he keeps eye contact with you.

“fuck me, rafe. please?”

the words barely leave your lips before he’s pushing the head into your drenched hole, bottoming out in seconds. you both groan in unison, the feel of his large cock stretching you and the way your pussy tightly grips his dick making all the anger from moments ago wash away.

rafe presses his lips against yours, his mouth devouring you as he holds onto your hips, keeping you still as he pounds himself inside you from below. the head of his cock repeatedly hits at that sweet spot inside you, your body shaking in his hold and sweet moans of pleasure falling past your lips.

“r-rafe.. oh, god.” you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back, hard blue eyes on yours as he continues to brutally fuck himself into you. your pussy pulsates around him, your clit throbbing. you remove his hands from your hips, running them up your sides and placing them up your shirt. he cups your breasts, squeezing at them harshly. you begin lifting your hips, slamming yourself back down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“fuck, baby. ‘m so sorry, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

you press your forehead against his, your lips beginning to slowly trail across his jaw and down to his neck. your teeth lightly nip at his sweat slick skin, loving the reaction it pulls from him.

“‘m sorry, too, rafe. i love you. fuuuck, i love you.”

your body trembles beneath his hold, rafe’s hands slowly and softly roaming your body, drinking in every bit of you with his hands. “i love you, too.”

the band snaps, your pussy clenching tightly around rafe’s cock, your orgasm rushing through you with a call of his name. rafe isn’t too far behind you, his dick twitching inside you. he shoves himself deep inside you, a raspy moan falling from him as he paints your inner walls white with his seed.

his body falls limp beneath you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lie your head on his chest. his fingers begin to trace lazy shapes on your back, lips kissing softly at the space between your neck and shoulder.

you break the silence first, “i’m really sorry… i- i didn’t mean anything i said, i just-”

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.”

you smile down at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. he pulls his hands from your face, allowing you to rest your head on his chest again. you find comfort in the silence this time, the strong beat of his heart against your face making your insides warm.

tagging a few moots: @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewsarms @drewsephrry @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @httpsdrewstarkey @redhead1180 @rafeinterlude

#kay’s 5k celly💞#₊˚ෆ abi girl #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron brainrot #rafe outer banks #outer banks #obx #obx smut

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vidals-harkness · 4 months ago

Text

seekest thou the road

summary: a random thursday turned into a strange series of happenings which meant certain clarity for you and your mother. but that clarity also meant the start of a new journey, the revelation of true feelings, and a quest for one's desires.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, rio vidal x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

It was a normal Thursday morning for Agnes and her daughter Y/n.

You trudged out of bed, blanket wrapped around you as you made your way downstairs to see your mom, Agnes O'Connor, making her morning coffee none too happily.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling a little as you sipped on the cup of coffee she had kept ready for you, in response to which you recieved a short grunt.

Agnes O'Connor really wasn't a morning person.

The sound of rain broke the silence that hung heavy between you both, and as the chill seemed to only increase, you pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling your hands tingle with the warmth of the cup in them. The sharp ringtone of her phone made you jump a little, but her chatter faded into the background as your attention went to the kitchen window.

The fog lay thick, same as when you had woken. However, it seemed to strike a chill down your spine which stood out from the cold of the season. Through the pattering of rain on glass, you could hear loud T.V static, the sound of canned laughter. Normal but...foreboding.

Your gaze darted behind to where the T.V was, but the flat-screen was dark, inactive. The sound was from right where you had been looking before--outside. You squinted through the gaps the raindrops left on the glass, to see an old-timey T.V right there in the middle of the street, showing a black-and-white sitcom. The words were not clear, same as the faces of the characters, but you felt like you'd been there before. Not like reminiscence, not like déjà -vu. Just...familiar.

You blinked rapidly as everything came back into focus. Your mom looked happier than she had in maybe weeks, and you didn't want to ask about phantom T.Vs in the fear of maybe wrecking this strange sense of happiness she seemed to have.

"Get in the car, kid, you're coming to work with me today," she said, tossing her keys up and catching them with an audible jingle.

You groaned. You did not want to spend several hours just sitting in her office, watching her play Candy Crush.

"Great," you grumbled sarcastically, going upstairs to change your clothes. Pulling on plain, comfortable clothes, you discreetly stole her green flannel shirt and pulled it on, combing your hair carefully. You were a lazy teen, yes, but you weren’t an animal.

The car rolled down the empty road, the haze seeming to part like the Red Sea, while the view beyond the windows warped with the raindrops running down it. You rested your elbow against the glass, head resting on your palm as you scrolled through a website on your phone, the rumble of the car pairing with the pattering of rain to create the perfect ambiance for silence.

“So,” your mom said, breaking the somewhat comfortable quietness that had settled. “What’s the latest hyperfixation?”

“Still history,” you said in a bored monotone.

“What’cha reading about on that tiny screen anyway?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,”

Agnes rolled her eyes subtly, which you ignored, and shrugged, “You realise none of that matters anymore, right?”

“You mean the repression of women and the deprivation of knowledge they faced due to the fear of being burnt at the stake under the accusation of being a witch just cause she can count to ten? Yeah, pretty sure that matters,” you deadpanned.

“Jeez,” she scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. She’d been sour and irritable for months now, especially after her riding the desk period.

“I don’t get why I have to come,” you said. “I’m seventeen, the worst thing I’ll probably do is watch A-rated stuff on Netflix,”

“Yeah, well I needed your true-crime expertise,” she said curtly. “And you gotta spend your suspension productively somehow, don’t you?”

“Well if the police system in Westview wasn’t so shit, maybe you wouldn’t even need a seventeen year old to help you solve a murder. And for the last time, my suspension is actually invalid, unlike yours,” you rolled your eyes, earning a sharp flick on your temple from her.

“Don’t even start,” she scowled. “We’re shorthanded here,”

“Sounds like a you problem,”

“Sounds like a week of no phone if you keep up with this attitude, little miss,”

The silence settled again, broken by only the sound of her humming a strange, soft tune. You liked it, but you weren’t going to admit it, no way.

Your eyes caught sight of a car wreck just on the side of the road, which was concerning because they weren’t any skid marks from what you could see through the watery glass. You shook your head. You’d clearly been watching too much true crime lately.

The car halted, and she exited, holding the two coffees she’d bought, nodding at you to get out which you reciprocated with an eye roll.

The air was colder here, the chill of a murder hanging in it, standing out deliciously. You noticed a dark, smoky figure dancing in your peripheral vision, but you blinked and it was gone. Shaking the strange feeling, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans, standing beside Agnes.

“Another beautiful day,” said your mother.

“Hey Herb,” you nodded at the man, who stood behind the yellow tape.

“Hey, neighbour,” he nodded at you both, gaze shifting over to Agatha. “Surprised to see you out here, Detective,”

“Oh, and the sixteen year old isn’t surprising?” She scoffed, earning a shrug from him. She shook her head and continued, “There I was, sitting on my duff, playing Candy Crush, happy as a clam, enjoying the fruits of my undeserved disciplinary action—“

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Beg to differ,”

“You punched a suspect,” Herb deadpanned.

“Oh, now a convicted felon. I can’t be right and wrong at the same time,” she shrugged.

“Debatable,” you singsonged quietly, earning a kick to your shin.

“Yes, you can,” he confirmed.

“When the Chief calls and tells me, ‘Hibernation’s over. ‘Got a case only you can solve.’,” sensing his skepticism, she added, “Direct quote,”

He sighed with defeat and pulled up the tape, allowing you both in. You chuckled softly and patted his shoulder with sympathy, earning a soft laugh from his end.

“Playing hooky, Y/n?” He asked as you walked beside him.

“Suspension,” you grumbled. “Punched a kid in the face,”

“Moving on from the start of your delinquent career,” Agnes interrupted, prompting Herb to continue.

“Jane Doe. Found her down here by the water. Dispatch was tipped off by an anonymous call,” he explained.

“Basic,” you rolled your eyes. “Lasting evidence?”

“This is all she had on her,” Herb handed over an evidence bag with something in it—a library card.

“What’s this? From a library book?” She asked, snatching it away.

“No shit, mom,” you scoffed, looking around the area for clues. “And real mature for a 50 year old,”

“Watch your mouth,” she snapped.

“Westview branch,” Herb interjected.

“Cause?” She asked.

“Blunt force trauma,”

Blunt force trauma? Unless she’s been clocked over the head at the library with a dictionary, you didn’t see any cliffs she could’ve been thrown off of.

As if she’d read your mind, your mother said, “Not much of a drop around here. She fall?”

“She was crushed,” he sighed.

Crushed? Even better. Where could you find boulders in a creek where the biggest stone was probably the same size as your hand?

“By what?”

“Something big. And heavy,”

“So she didn’t die here,”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she, Herb?” She asked, brow raised.

“Oh, she’s really, most sincerely dead,” he confirmed.

“You never know,”

The body lay face down beside the creek, and you could’ve sworn you saw that same shadowy figure, this time with a flash of…green? It vanished before you could make sense of it.

The woman wore a hoodie and slacks—house clothes, suggesting a home murder? Maybe? This case was too complicated. Blunt force trauma with nothing in particular, a library card, and clothes which resembled a breakup uniform. It made as much sense as a toddler’s handwriting.

Your mother had vanished somewhere, looking for clues, leaving you alone with forensics and the body, surrounded by yellow tape.

The air grew another chill, separate from the one caused by the rain. You felt someone breathing down your neck, and turned sharply to check who it was.

Strangely, nobody.

Your head gave a sharp stab of pain, and you winced, the voices in your head growing loudest, but still giving way to one, familiar voice. And all it said was a single sentence. ‘Snap out of it,’

There was a snap of someone’s fingers near your ear, and the voices went back down to whispers in the back of your mind.

Agnes knelt beside the body, freshly rolled over.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. “What happened to you?”

“You okay, Agnes?” Herb asked, concerned.

“How do you mean?” She snapped.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” He said nervously.

“For starters you’re asking a dead body for answers,” you smirked, poking her cheek.

She smacked your hand away. “Oh, yeah? And who is that exactly? I’ll try to be more cheerful for you next time,” her tone was bitter as she stood up. “But right now this unidentified woman lying dead in a creek has just got me down in the dumps,”

“Jeez, looks like someone’s hormonal,” you rolled your eyes, bumping her shoulder as you walked past her. “I can’t tell who’s the teenager here,”

“Shut up,” she snapped at you, turning to Herb. “Let me know when the dental records come in,”

You sat in the car with her again, on the way to the library. Yet again, there was that silence—that uncomfortable, thin-ice kind of silence which frankly drove you up the wall. There was a time where you would make jokes with her, a time where you both would sing to shitty music on the radio, but that was long gone. Now, all you both did was sit together, a cavernous distance between you two which, in reality, was just a few inches apart.

You loved your mother, of course you did, but it was at times like these where you felt she didn’t feel the same.

“What do you think, hm?” She asked at last—that same, irritated, clipped tone breaking through your thoughts.

“About what? If it’s your fashion sense, I think we could use some work—“ you began, judgement evident in your own tone.

“About the case,” she sighed. “Cut it out with the sarcasm,”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that the broke noir-chic is starting to look a little bit more divorce-chic except you’re not getting the benefits,” you shrugged. “But as for the case, there’s definitely more to it,”

“Okay, and?” She prompted.

You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Well, for starters, the method of killing is hazy. She died of blunt force trauma, but that was inflicted by crushing, but this is Westview. The biggest boulder in the creek is probably a skipping stone. And you can’t crush someone with that. Not their whole body, definitely,”

She hummed thoughtfully. You hated how the only time you talked was about cases. It was never about school, or football, or anything else. Always murder, crime, arrest.

“Whatever, anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “We’ve reached,”

The library had a stupendously long queue, and you were about stand in it, only to have Agnes grip your wrist and pull you forward.

“Ah. Official police business. Excuse me, excuse me,” she said, pushing past them all, earning disgruntled comments from them all.

“You use that line at the supermarket checkout, too?” Dottie, the library clerk asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, avoiding eye contact with Agnes.

“Only suckers wait their turn,” your crazy mother replied haughtily.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” Dottie asked, sighing softly.

She produced the library card, the packet crinkling as it hit the desk. “Found this on a victim,”

“Ooh. Who’s the victim? Is she dead?” The lady asked.

“Now, why do you assume it’s a woman?” Your mother frowned.

“Exactly,” you frowned. “Statistically, males are more subject to be murder victims, given that on an average, only 30% of victims are women,”

The lady gave you a prompt side eye, saying, “I don’t know. Sounds more titillating,”

She took a look at the card, shaking her head, “There are no names on here,”

“But there are dates,” Agnes interjected.

“We don’t use cards anymore. Everything’s digital now. Sorry,” she grimaced.

“Well, thanks a bunch for your help, Dottie. You’ve been an absolute angel. Incidentally,” Agnes’s voice rose to a shout as she added, “Where were you last night between the hours of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?”

You put your head down, covering your ears and groaning. “You’re an embarrassment, mother,”

Just to shut her up, thus sympathising with you, Dottie calmed her down, “I guess I could run the book title,”

“Oh, can you?” She snapped sarcastically. “Come on, Y/n,”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, evading her attempt to yank you in the library. “It’s time for you to be an adult and give me some money for ice cream after I just suffered second hand embarrassment at your hands,”

“Fine,” she conceded, after holding your gaze for a good ten seconds, handing you some money.

“Thank you,” you said firmly, marching out of the library.

You heaved a sigh of relief, as if you'd exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The sun shone down on the pavement, casting sharp shadows as you walked down the street to your favourite place--the coffee shop where you and your brother would participate in open mic nights. You remembered how well he'd sing with you accompanying him on the guitar...

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. You hated thinking about Nicky. It always ruined your mood. More so than your mother.

You entered the shop, sighing in relief at the familiar scent of chocolate chip cookies and ground coffee beans. The owner of the shop was a sweet old lady and her husband, both of whom were perhaps the kindest people in Westview.

"Hi there," you smiled, handing her the money. "Can I have my usual, please?"

The lady, Mrs. Jackson, smiled before saying, "Oh, that nice young woman over there already asked for one, paid for it, too,"

You turned in the direction where she was pointing, seeing a shockingly familiar woman in police attire, her hair pulled back in a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck, the top two buttons of her white shirt opened, while the sun glinted off the badge she had hung around her neck.

She beckoned you over with the curl of her finger, and you went over, sitting down in front of her.

"Hi there, Detective Vidal," you smiled slightly.

Rio chuckled softly, pushing the cup of coffee towards you. "I see you're still stuck,"

You frowned a little at that. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Here, in Westview. I'd have thought your mom would've gotten sick of this place by now,"

You inhaled deeply, sipping the coffee happily. "Wishful thinking," you said. "That lady is fucking crazy. So...what brings you to town?"

"You know why I'm here," she nodded. You liked her for this reason. She was straightforward, just as enigmatic as a detective should be, yet she spoke with a kind of firm kindness which few could master.

"You're here to...get under mom's skin?" You tilted your head, curious.

She laughed, looking down as she shook her head. "I've been assigned to help with her...case,"

"Oh she's going to be pissed," you giggled, fingertips running along the edges of the saucer your cup was on. "But is this case really FBI worthy?"

"Well, it's worthy of federal intervention," she nodded. "But that's not entirely why I'm here,"

You nodded a little dejectedly. "Oh. You're not here for too long, then?"

"Just until this whole matter clears up," she shrugged. "Shouldn't be a while. But we can go for ice cream sometime. How're you holding up here?"

You paused, meeting her gaze fully for a good minute. An aura danced along her outline--black and hazy. Your fingertips tingled against the warm ceramic of the cup, and you felt that same stab of pain in your head like you had in the morning.

"Easy," Rio said softly, her fingertips tapping on your wrist. "Think through it, you're still stuck,"

The world bend out of shape for a good moment, the only thing remaining constant was her face. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the cup on the table tremble as the voices began to scream.

"Come on, nena," her voice was soft, quiet. "Snap out of it,"

You heard the snap next to your ear again, and when you opened your eyes, you saw through the veil for a moment. She was dressed in black, you could see the bones...

Down came the veil, and with it the voices quietened. Her face was normal again, soft jaw, sharp smile.

"You've got it in you, Y/n," she said softly, her hand still tracing your wrist. "Just snap out of it,"

You blinked, and she was gone.

The next morning, you woke up dazed. It was a similar morning like the previous day's--foggy, cloudy, confusing, gloomy. You avoided your mother completely, she seemed to be a little more off her rocker than usual.

"I'm assuming you're taking me to the office again?" You sighed softly as she grabbed the car keys.

"Yes ma'am, get your ass in the car in five," she said, heading out.

You squinted at said 'car'. It was...a broom on a desk in the living room? But you shook your head, going back to normal. It was just the same old Honda Civic she'd been driving the last few years you had been in Westview.

The station was radiating depression as per usual, and you groaned to yourself as you walked past the Chief with a brief good morning.

She settled in her chair while you sat on the couch, reading your book quietly.

“You hear what happened at the library?” Agnes asked the Chief.

“No, I—“ he began, but she cut him off.

“Somebody torched one of the stacks, like, took a flame thrower to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, distracted. “I’ll have one of the guys follow up. But listen, Agnes—“

“You got a spot on your shirt,” she pointed out.

“Oh—“

“And your tie,”

“Mom will you cut it out?” You asked, irritated with her constantly making the poor guy conscious.

“You makin’ breakfast smoothies again, Chief?” She asked, none too kindly. “You know you’re supposed to put the lid on before you blend it,”

He sighed, fully used to her antics. “Yes, I know. Um…listen, Agnes…”

She sighed deeply, irritated. “You’re about to tell me somethin’ I’m not gonna like,”

“Soil samples from under the fingernails and toenails of the Jane Doe came back,” he started, peaking your interest. “They don’t match the soil she was lyin’ in,”

“That’s no surprise. We assumed she’d been moved,” she said, nodding.

“Yeah, like perp probably carried her off,” you said.

“There were traces of a particular microbial sediment only found in Eastern Europe,” he sighed.

“That sounds like a hell lot of work for a perp,” you chuckled.

“Now get to the part I’m not gonna like,” she said, looking at him sharply.

He stepped aside from the door, and your expression brightened as a familiar woman entered the room.

“Here I am,” she said, her demeanour badass as per usual. “Hey, trouble,” she winked at you, earning a rare smile from you in return.

“You always find new ways to piss me off, don’t you, hon?” Agnes addressed you deadpan, her eyes fixed in Agent Vidal.

"Me? I'm an angel," you rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” Chief sighed.

“Fancy dirt always attracts the attention of the Feds,” Agnes scoffed disdainfully.

“Agent Vidal is an asset here, Agnes,” he reasoned. “More brain power and more resources mean you get to the finish line faster. Strength in numbers. Teamwork makes the dream—“

“Eat my ass, Chief,” she interrupted him.

“You’re just throwing a hissy fit because you’re not gonna be alone in the paper headlines,” you chuckled, earning an eraser chucked at your face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Chief said simply, exiting the room.

“It’s been a long time,” Rio said, taking a seat in the sofa, playing with your hair gently.

"What are you doing here?" Agnes asked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

"My job,"

"You wanna take control of my investigation,"

"No," after a brief pause where her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, she said, "If you wanna be in control, you can be,"

Your brow raised, but you went back to your book, as Agnes continued speaking. "She…The body was moved across state lines. Is that your play?"

Rio took a moment to look around, sighing softly. "Is this really how you see yourself?"

You looked at her, head tilted, and brows furrowed. She continued her movements, her hand gently stroking your hair. You noticed the voices had quietened down significantly...

"Sure. Let’s talk about the case," she said eventually, resignation clear in her tone. "What are your theories? How’d she end up in the ravine? Trouble?" Her gaze went to you.

"My guess is she was killed elsewhere, probably rolled down the hill," you shrugged.

"No drag marks. Thinking the perp carried her," Agnes said.

"Uh… Seems logical, but you don’t really believe that because…" She stood up, placing the file down with pictures on it, taking a perch on the corner of Agnes' desk. "Oops. No tracks for the perp. Not a leaf disturbed before Forensics showed up. It’s almost like she just magically appeared," her voice took an odd tone, somewhat...coaxing?

"Let’s stick to reality here, yeah?" Your mother scoffed.

"Who hurt you? Whatever happened to alternate possibilities?" You rolled your eyes. "Like, who shat on your creativity?"

Rio stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Agnes. She cleared her throat, "Sure,"

"If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that these cases are always about the place," Agnes' tone was clear with the taste of theory within it, the backing of facts, the slight hint of senility. "The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie,"

"Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?" Rio shrugged, moving off her perch. "Yeah, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true… Agnes?"

The pause was jarring, carrying notes of coaxing again, the same tone she'd used at the coffee shop.

"I don’t want you here," Agnes scowled.

"Yeah, because anything even remotely comforting in my life you seem to hate," you scoffed, looking at Rio. "I'm sorry about her, she keeps waking up on the wrong side of the bed,"

"It's all good, nena," she nodded, before leaving the files on the table for Agnes. "I'll get you ice cream sometime before I leave town,"

You nodded, high-fiving her, before she nodded at Agnes. "Te veo," she said, leaving.

Your gaze snapped to her, angry. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with you? Getting all mushy-mushy with the feds," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Maybe because she actually cares about me more than you, you wanted to say.

"I dunno, maybe because her helping with your investigation might mean I'll be free to do what I want," you scowled. "But obviously, you wouldn't care about my happiness, would you?"

You saw a flash of anger pass over her face, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe she finally understood how you felt, maybe this was hint enough—

"We're going to the pawn shop, come on," she snapped, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No such luck.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, shrugging, "Sure thing,"

The pawn shop was musty, dank, and none too welcoming. You hated it.

“Is it real?” Agnes asked him.

“Oh, it’s real, all right. And it’s a beaut,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mind your beeswax, Norm,” she snapped. “Where’s it from? How old is it?”

“A picture of politeness and ladylike behaviour,” you rolled your eyes, playing around with a vintage puzzle box.

Norm chuckles in agreement before nodding, “North American. New England, maybe. Late 17th century, I guess. It’s made from cowrie shell,”

“What’s a cowrie?” She frowned.

“Sea snail,” he turned the brooch around and showed it to her, pointing at the ivory figures. “And these hotties here. That’s Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, Crone,”

“Common figures in witchcraft, late 17th century lore,” you added.

“What, no Working Professional Goddess?” She scoffed.

He chuckled and the brooch opened with a click, revealing a strand of hair. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Looks like your brooch is a locket. You looking to sell it, Agnes?”

She raised a brow. “How much you offering, Norm?”

“For you? Two hundred,” he shrugged.

“I smell bullshit,” you singsonged, grinning at him cheekily.

"Great. Now I know where to start the bidding on eBay," she snatched it back. "Come on, Y/n,"

"No, save me, Norm..." you mock-wailed, saluting him with two fingers as you exited the shop.

The sun went down and the moon came up, rising slowly in the sky as the nightly autumn chill set in. You napped on the couch, thoughts racing and mind a jumble of scenes and words while she worked.

"Go home, Agnes," Said the chief. "Or atleast call a cab for her," he nodded at your napping form.

"I am home, Chief," she said dismissively. "And I'm sure she's fine,"

The Chief switched her office lights off, earning a disgruntled noise of, "Hey!"

"Go home," he said forcefully.

You blinked sleepily as she shook your shoulder, groggy and tired.

"Come on, kid, we're going home," she said gruffly, grabbing her keys and her jacket, waiting for you.

You drowsily sat in the car, elbow leaning on the windowsill as you rested your cheek on your fist, dozing off slowly. You felt Agnes ruffle your hair gently.

“You did good today, kid,” she said quietly, as a quiet song played on the radio.

You smiled a little, tilting your head to fix your gaze on her. “Careful, you might say you love me, next,” you half-joked, earning a gentle punch to your shoulder.

She parked the car and got out of the driver’s seat, humming to herself still as you followed, still sleepy. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, slipping your hand into hers slowly. She sighed softly at that, but allowed it.

The house was quiet, you could sense some kind of odd energy around it—just like you’d felt an odd energy around everything else after meeting Rio at the cafe.

Almost like nothing was real…

You felt Agnes pull her hand from yours, saying, “I’ll set dinner in sometime,” she kept the distance between you both again. She went in his room, her movements slow and slightly sluggish.

You hated that room.

You heard a knock on the door as you lounged on the couch peacefully.

“What?” Came Agnes’ irritated voice.

“Did you know that it is a universally acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Came Rio’s voice. You heard the sound of pizza in a box. “Hungry?”

You sat up instantly, making space for Agnes on the couch, grinning when Rio came in.

“Hey, trouble,” she winked, taking a seat in the armchair, her blazer set aside and sitting in a comfy position, one leg perched on her knee, elbows resting comfortably on the armrests.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

Agnes came with two beers and a bottle of cranberry juice for you. You accepted it with a slight smile towards her, still annoyed by before.

Soon, she started telling Rio cop stories like she used to do for you and him.

“So she’s a rookie, granted, but I say to her, ‘Has the suspect been seen in the last 24 hours?’” Agnes narrates, a laugh in her tone. “And she says, ‘Only on TikTok.’ And then I say, ‘Well, did you learn anything?’ And she says, ‘That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.’”

You had taken a seat on the carpet in front of Rio, your back resting against her leg as she used her free hand to toy with the soft strands of your hair. You heard her chuckle and glanced up right when she smiled. You liked that expression. And when you heard Agnes laughing you liked it even more.

“Anyway…I have a lead in the case,” Agnes said.

“Oh do you? A lead which who gave you?” You raised a brow.

“Take it easy, trouble,” the FBI agent smiled. “That’s not why I came over,” Rio said. But she paused, before nodding. “But go ahead,”

“There was a car wreck, about an hour before time of death,” she stated.

“Where?” Rio asked.

“Eastview.”

“Eastview? See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield,”

She smirked. “Hey, I travel. I’m worldly,”

Rio chuckled. “Where have you traveled?“

You felt the answer on the tip of your tongue, but strangely you couldn’t tell past last year when you’d gone for a summer camp past Eastview.

Sensing the sudden shift in focus, Rio brought you both back. “Okay, so what about the car wreck?”

“Bloodstain in the back seat,” she stated, an odd look in her eye.

“You think that’s how they moved her?”

“Front two airbags deployed,”

“Maybe two perps?”

“Maybe,”

Rio squinted. “But you don’t like it,”

“My gut tells me they’re related,” Agnes shook her head, “But I can’t shake this feeling I’m seeing it wrong,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause. An uncomfortable, odd pause.

“No,”

“Are you hiding evidence?” She raised a brow.

“No,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re only lying to yourself—“ before she could finish, there was a loud clatter from upstairs. You moved to go investigate with her, but she shook her head.

“Stay here,” she scowled. “I don’t want you getting hurt in case the guy’s armed, that more paperwork for me,”

“Oh how thoughtful,” you rolled your eyes.

As she went upstairs to investigate, you sat on the couch again, patting it for Rio. “Wanna sit?”

She chuckled. “Sure thing,”

You turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, letting it play on a low volume, resting your body against hers. You lay your head in her lap eventually, letting her hand gently rub your arm soothingly.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Nena,” she said. “How’re the voices?”

“Loud,” you mumbled, shifting your knees up to your chest a little, an arm wrapping around them.

They got steadily louder as she spoke, making you wince and squirm slightly.

“Easy,” she warned.

“They’re so fucking loud…” you hissed, irritated. The objects in the room began to rattle slightly.

“You’re still Y/n,” she said softly. “But not this version,”

“The fuck do you mean?” You asked, irritated.

“I mean that she kept you trapped,”

“Who? Mom? Yeah no shit,”

She chuckled but shook her head. “No, not her. You remember her name,”

Flashes of something went through your mind—you saw everything in black and white at first. You felt the world tilt and bend, felt nausea rise at the back of your throat.

“She’s kept you in this prison,” she said softly. “She’s just kept you like this—docile, dormant…”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Mom said the voices are just some psychological thing—“

“Listen to the voices,” Rio urged. “Hear them closely,”

Another flash of something—an empty street, crying boys, a woman in red with hair the colour of…scarlet.

“Wanda—“ you choked out, gasping. The voices slowed from a cacophony to different voices, familiar voices from your past.

All screaming into your ears one thing: Snap out of it.

“That’s right, nena,” she whispered. “Keep trying,”

Your eyes went dark, black throughout the whites and irises, smoky black magic curling at your fingertips. You looked around you at the still-bending reality.

“What’s real?” You gasped out, feeling the magic pulse with your blood. You felt complete for the first time in three years.

“She’s kept you imprisoned for three years, locking away your ability,” Rio said. “You’re not just angry at Agatha for these centuries of hurt, you’re angry at Wanda for making you feel…”

“Powerless,” you completed. “I’ve been feeling powerless because of her,”

She nodded, a sly smile on her face. “You wanna try something with me?”

You nodded, grinning somewhat evilly. “Sure,”

“First, I’m gonna have to project on your mom’s mind, wanna help with that?”

You nodded, devious smile on your face. “I thought you’d never ask,”

Her smile matched yours instantly. “That’s my girl,”

You saw Agnes entering the room with a random boy, making you frown in utter confusion, before you used your power to help Rio get in her head. While you did so, you felt clearer on your own powers.

You were just like Mami.

Dark magic, soul magic. The kind where you could stop a person’s breathing and pluck the very thing that made them human right from their system. The kind where you could change your face to anyone who’d had a beating heart at will. The kind where you could shake the devil’s hand while playing with the angels.

Life and Death, you were the balance.

You felt time ticking by slowly but surely, you headed up to your room in a daze. You saw it clearly now—you understood just how senile you and your mother had been acting the past few days.

“Sleep,” you heard Rio’s voice in your head.

You did.

The next morning you woke up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, the day was warm. You squirmed out from under the covers, noticing yourself in the mirror. You smirked a little. You looked visibly warmer, as if lifting the spell had breathed some extra life into you. Ironic.

Just to check if last night was real, you moved your fingers like your mother had taught you, lifting a pencil and placing it down simply. You grinned with clear, childlike excitement.

“I’m back, baby,” you smirked.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, angry scream from downstairs.

You nearly fell as you ran down, knife in hand already. It lowered instantly as you saw Agatha in the room.

Naked.

Your own scream matched hers as you covered your eyes with your hands. “Mom get some fucking clothes on, you disgusting woman!”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I assume she got you out, too?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled.

“What’s up your ass this morning?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that the first thing I see upon being fully conscious is my mother standing in the living room stark-staring NAKED?”

Before you could comprehend her fast reply, she had dashed out of the house, making you groan in annoyance. You ran out after her, but not before you pulled on a jacket to hide your face with.

“Mom, mama, mother, please—“ you pleaded, looking through her rather than at her, trying to fix how awkward this was.

“Oh! Whoa!” You heard Herb exclaim. “What? What is going on? Hey, Miss Agnes, you—you feeling okay today?”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “How long have I been here?”

“Uh… What?” You saw him put his hand up to cover…things from his vision.

“How long have I been living in this cesspool of a town?” She asked none to politely.

“You don’t remember?” He asked, baffled.

“Yet you remember and retain the same attitude as ‘Agnes’,” you scoffed.

“Catch me up,” she scowled, ignoring you.

“About three years,” he nodded.

“Three years?” She exclaimed. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she realised. “Wanda,”

“We try not to say her name,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “Because you’re cowards, because you’re sheep. What have I been doing all this time?”

“Being bitchy to really nice people, for starters,” you rolled your eyes.

Herb chuckled but continued just as nervously. "Well, you’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit too casual with your boundaries…"

Triggered, she snapped, "Call me “nosy,” I’ll cut out your tongue."

"How polite," you grumbled.

"Yeah...you haven’t been yourself the past few days," he admitted. "Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug. Now that's normal for Y/n, obviously, but you? Nah,"

"So…So what? I’ve just been spouting nonsense and you’ve just been humoring me?" She scowled.

"I mean, folks been trying to help out, you know, stopping by and bringing you groceries and checking up on you," he explained, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Oh, I get it," Agatha chuckled sarcastically, her eyes on Dottie and her husband, who were trying to get their daughter back inside frantically. "Librarian. Chief of police," Her eyes landed on Norm, who jogged backwards upon meeting her gaze. "Oh! Jeweler,"

As she spoke, Herb tried covering her up with his jacket--a futile thing, really, since she threw it off her body instantly.

"This is where hope goes to die," she sneered.

"You know, um...besides the fact that you’re, um…" he gestured at her with his head. "You seem pretty lucid for a change. Aggressive, even. Powerful."

"Oh god, please don't feed into her ego," you begged, irritated.

"What did you say?" She asked softly, eyes drifting to him.

"I said, “Powerful,” but look, Agnes, if…"

"It’s Agatha,"

"Agnes' more annoying, bitchy counterpart," you interjected, earning a smack upside your head.

"Okay. Agatha. Yeah," he nodded, awkwardly. "Can you put on some clothes?" She groaned angrily and stalked off into the house, with you following in embarrassment. "‘Cause you… ‘Cause you’re naked..."

You stormed after her in anger, slamming the door shut behind you. "Mom, we need to talk--"

"No. No!" You heard her exclaim as you noticed how her hands were devoid of one very, very familiar thing. Her purple.

You shook your head. Inside, you were a mess of emotions. You were shocked, scared, angry, confused, and exhausted all in one. You hated this. Hated how she still didn't give you the time of day, how she constantly went after the same thing over and over again. Like always. You grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Mom stop!" You exclaimed, holding her back.

"Did she take yours, too?" She cut you off, her hand yanking away from your grip.

"No, I can, unfortunately, still see the dead, feel the dead, and control...hm...oh yeah, the dead," you rolled your eyes. "But that's not the point! The point is--and she's gone."

Agatha had gone back down to her basement, which, in Wanda's hex, was a whole witchy lair. Now it was just the laundry room. The pentagram was gone, your special little 'quiet corner' with barricade runes was gone, the comforting scent of incense and magic was overpowered by the smell of washing machine grease and Tide Pods.

You saw a bunny hop out from under the washing machine, and Agatha was quick to lift him up and cuddle him close. "I got mugged, mister. She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances,"

Her gaze landed on you. "We gotta get back on top,"

You rolled your eyes. "So much for a normal suspension,"

From upstairs, you both heard a loud thudding noise, and immediately, you ran up and yanked open the coat closet door to see...a boy? With duct tape on his mouth and legs?

"MOM!" You exclaimed, horrified. "Come ON! Have some basic human sense!"

Nonchalantly she shrugged, "So that arrest was maybe more of a kidnapping,"

"You think, lady?!"

"Keep it civil, little miss," she warned, before pointing at the boy. "But if you’re real and not a figment of my imprisoned mind, then that means…"

The door burst open, splintering and completely broken off its hinges, making you duck and cover your head, grabbing Señor Scratchy, and holding him tight to keep him safe. You placed him under the hallways table, keeping him away from the broken glass and wood. Agatha got blown back by the force of the impact, falling in a heap on the floor.

“Shit. Mom!” Your exclaimed, about to help, but she put a hand out to stop you.

“Don’t!” She snapped, making your features darken, as you stopped.

You saw a figure clad in black, a familiar woman, and your heart leapt at the sight of her. She flew at your mother before she stood with her knife poised at the base of Agatha’s collarbone, the woman pinned with the force of it, where her pulse beat steadily against the skin.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio giggled diabolically.

“I hate you,” Agatha snarled.

“Just like you do everyone you love,” you scoffed, shrugging. “Hi, Mami,”

“Hey nena,” she replied, eyes fixed on your mother. “How long has it been, Agatha?” Rio asked, pushing harsher against her grip.

“Not sure,” she groaned, you could sense her seething.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold, you hid behind all that dark magic, but then you lost it, and now…” she chuckled darkly, the tip of her knife kissing the skin of her collarbone, making Agatha wince. “Touch. You’re vulnerable,”

She eased, “Only physically,”

In moments, she grabbed Rio’s head, slammed it into a wall, making you wince as the knife clattered to the side. You winced as Agatha gripped the blade against Rio’s blow, the blood in the xarpet smelling metallic and nauseating.

“Do you remember pain?” Rio gasped. “It kind of tickles, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling dryly, Agatha panted, “Coochie coochie coo,”

After a good minute of them struggling like cats, with Agatha pinning Rio down by the throat, you made a slight attempt to help.

You grabbed your mother by the shoulders and held them apart, angry.

“Will you two hopeless lesbians just cut it out?!” You asked, your palms pressed against each of their chests. “This is fucking infuriating!”

“Stay out of this, Y/n,” Agatha snarled, her eyes on Rio.

“It’s best for you, nena,” added Rio.

“Well how about we be a normal family and perhaps go for dinner instead of you trying to kill each other!”

“You can’t kill me,” your mom hissed at Rio. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed,”

“Maybe I can’t kill you,” Rio said, angrily, blowing her back into the cabinet. “But I can make you wish you were dead,”

Agatha groaned, sitting up. “Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “This isn’t what you want. Me without power,”

You shrugged at Rio, mumbling, “Maybe it’s better if she didn’t have any power, selfish bitch,”

Agatha laughed, glaring at you just a little. “This is undignified,” she looked at Rio. “Don’t you want me at my best?” She stood, you noticed her her voice droppin to that horrible, infuriating, manipulative whisper. “Admit it. You prefer me—“

“Horizontal?” Rio interrupted. After a pause, she added “In a grave?”

“Formidable,” Agatha corrected.

“So take my power,” she shrugged.

Your mother chuckled humourlessly, nodding at her. “That’s cute. But you know that would kill me. Just…let me get my purple back. And then come find me,”

“I am not the only one that wants to see you dead,” Rio scoffed. “Wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown.”

Disconcerted, Agatha tried to lighten the statement, saying, “There are no new options?”

“I could just sit back and watch,” Rio shrugged.

Slowly, like a cat prowling to its prey, she approached her, voice but a whisper. “Come on. You love it. The anticipation…”

“Okay, Agatha,” Rio conceded, looking down and shaking her head with a chuckle. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.”

“Who, specifically?” She and you asked in unison.

“Mmm! The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio said. Noticing your panicked expression, she added, “Not you, nena. Just your mother,”

Turning back to agatha she shrugged. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown. After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh! It really warms the heart,”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

Pulling her close all of a sudden, Rio spoke in a low voice, full of conviction. “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you,”

She lifted the hand from which blood was dripping and in one long, clean swipe of her tongue, healed it.

You made a face with disgust. “Mami, ew,” you muttered. “You’re so gay, my god,”

Rio laughed, shooting Agatha a look, squeezing your cheeks with one hand gently and quickly before she whispered, “I’ll see you sometime soon, nena.”

As she went to the doorway, she glanced at Agatha, shrugging, “Te veo,” before leaving.

You both stood there in silence for a good moment, before you asked awkwardly, “So…what do we do about the door?”

She looked at you, baffled, her chin held delicately between her thumb and forefinger in thought. “The door?”

“Yeah, she blew it off its hinges,”

“Do you see the state of my sitting room?”

You glanced around at the catastrophic sight. She had a point.

“Yeah, I’m grabbing myself some breakfast, it is far too early for me to deal with…this,” you shrugged, going to the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Agatha didn’t respond, clearly thinking about Rio’s appearance. With a frustrated groan, she was about to stomp away, when she heard some indistinct mumbling from her closet.

Yanking it open, with you behind her, cereal bowl in hand and munching on Lucky Charms, she sighed at the sight of the boy with his mouth and limbs taped up.

“Oh, right, you,”

@eletricheart , @misty-melody , @mmemalwa , @skittlebum , @lexietargaryen , @natashasmuse , @angelbeingatitspurest , @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lizziescutiepie , @rosierogie , @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143 , @babybeeelle

hello my bao buns! sorry for the delay, i hope you liked this one! let me know what you think <3

love, jaya

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agathario x reader #mom agatha #mom rio #agathario X teen!reader

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multimilfs · 4 months ago

Text

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive.

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55.

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement.

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening.

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop.

Just your luck.

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers.

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her.

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.”

“Oh, will you now?”

You pause.

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?”

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?”

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car.

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.”

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs.

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser.

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has.

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be.

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course.

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision.

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?”

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?”

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.”

“Step out of the car.”

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind.

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing.

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.”

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk.

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits.

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips.

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them.

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly.

“Stick out your tongue.”

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever.

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.”

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this.

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes.

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known.

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire.

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.”

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes.

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back.

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.”

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out.

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her.

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop.

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.”

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been.

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.”

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.”

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties.

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal.

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants.

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger.

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls.

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.”

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest.

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.”

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.”

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.”

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything.

“I am in control.”

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.”

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.”

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes.

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it.

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself.

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure.

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines.

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask.

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—”

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through.

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground.

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.”

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front.

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short.

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted.

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out.

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls.

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.”

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip.

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.”

“I made my terms abundantly clear.”

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.”

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.”

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips.

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.”

“Prove it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say.

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl.

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says.

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time.

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic.

“Oh, yes!”

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers.

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal.

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play.

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous.

You can use that.

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching.

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!”

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that.

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble.

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips.

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times.

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy.

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?”

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.”

“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?”

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.”

It’s like flipping a switch.

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips.

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel.

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.”

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur.

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan.

“Where do you want me?”

“With your mouth between my legs.”

“Fingers?”

“Yes, please.”

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.”

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more.

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change.

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head.

“Not what I meant!”

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts.

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—”

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer.

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat.

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last.

“I’m going to come.” You force out.

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut.

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon.

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg.

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away.

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out.

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth.

“No more,” you beg, “please.”

“Am I forgiven?”

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.”

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair.

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck.

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask.

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.”

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.”

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later.

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.”

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs.

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching.

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too.

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction.

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.”

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car.

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this.

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?”

“Yeah. They should.”

“Where did you break down?”

“By the bridge on Old Forest.”

Perfect.

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.”

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this.

“Alright.”

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body.

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor.

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.”

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?”

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...”

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed.

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.”

“Honey—”

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur.

“Of course not.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?”

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile.

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.”

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.”

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly.

“There’s no one around to catch us now.”

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up.

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss.

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.”

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days.

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing.

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say.

“Be good and you can have my cock later.”

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it.

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh.

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl.

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.”

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.”

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous.

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too.

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows.

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes.

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.”

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate.

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end.

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks.

“Agnes—“ You choke out.

“It’s okay, honey.”

You let go.

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks.

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new.

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck.

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes.

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.”

“Thank god.”

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can.

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight.

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting.

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?”

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it.

“To be parents.” You whisper.

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating.

“I’m not.”

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.”

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.”

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense.

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.”

She nods, “Alright.”

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.”

“That was terrible.”

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully.

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick.

“When is your shift over?”

“In a few hours.”

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.”

“I look forward to it.”

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses.

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #agnes o'connor #agnes o'connor x reader #agatha all along x reader #agatha all along fanfiction #agatha harkness fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #nov2024 #multimilfswritings

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kooktrash · 2 years ago

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cool with you | jeon jungkook

summary: your break up from kim taehyung sent you spiraling into what felt like a midlife crisis of tear stained cheeks and tubs of half eaten ice cream with a broken heart. after finding out that your neighbor, jeon jungkook, was eavesdropping on your meltdowns and came to find out that your ex was his old friend, he found himself wanting to comfort you. he knew the kind of guy Taehyung was and he didn’t want to see you beat yourself up over a guy who wasn’t worth it so in the end he helped you through it and was unable to ignore the growing attraction you felt toward each other.

➣ genre/au: strangers to friends to lovers. smut. afab!reader [she/her] x neighbor!jk

➣ 14.6k words

warnings: f2l. s2l. oc dated Tae but only implied. tae is kinda an asshole. jk likes to mind his business but his neighbor was loud af. he jumps into a pool with oc. oc is a hot mess and a little crazy. unprotected intercourse. couch sex. mutual masturbation. rising. missionary. jk had a big one 😛. shirtless jk. he literally just be picking up oc whenever he feels like it. oc lowkey stresses him out like all the time. tae did Jk dirty before. mutual pining. heavy petting. make out. idk y’all this jk kinda deserves the world.

song inspo: cool with you — new jeans [you know me like no other]

Jungkook was not the type to care, and that’s him putting it simply. He considered himself an average guy, he had friends and he went out and he studied well. He went to parties and stayed in to play video games, very average. The girls he hooked up with always knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious and the guys he hung out with were as carefree as he was. The point is, he does his own thing and stays out of drama, that’s how he likes it.

He does everything he can to stay out of

complicated situations, so when he overheard something he definitely shouldn't have… he tried to ignore it.

“Yes, we broke up.”

All he wanted was to enjoy his cigarette on his balcony without having to listen in on his neighbor’s phone call because they had their window open.

“No, I am not crying.”

It sounds like you are.

“I swear, I’m not.”

Jungkook swears you were. He doesn’t care… he’s just nosy and it’s not like he could ignore how loud you were. It was actually a surprise, he’s never interacted with you aside from the occasional pounding on the wall to tell him to keep it down. He finds it rare whenever you’re the one being louder than he was and on this particular night he couldn’t help but listen in on your conversation.

“I already got all my things out of Taehyung’s place, we’re done, seriously.”

A cloud of smoke covered the air above him as he released an exhale and hit the cigarette against his ashtray to get some of the excess ash off. A small smirk came to his face as he came to realize what a hypocrite he was. After going on and on about being a drama free dude, he stands here to listen to his neighbor talk about Taehyung, this mysterious ex of yours.

Funny thing actually, Jungkook used to know a guy named Taehyung. It was a somewhat common name, maybe, and it sounded similar to others so maybe he’s just hearing wrong but it was funny nonetheless—especially if Taehyung really was the right name.

“I'm just over it now, it was always the same thing with him,” your voice sounded a bit clearer now and he honestly forgot he was even eavesdropping, “Kim Taehyung doesn’t care about anybody but himself and I’m just tired of following him around.”

The cigarette dangling between his teeth as he glanced over to your balcony almost fell when his eyes met yours. You had already stopped talking but you stood at your open window now, phone in your hand, and looking right at him. Like usual, you didn’t acknowledge each other aside from a quick up and down stare and when it became clear to you that he heard it all, you slammed your window shut with a glare.

Jungkook snatched the cigarette from his lips and quickly put it out before taking a step back so he could close his window too. He immediately threw himself down on his couch reaching for his PS5 controller and scrolling through his friends, inviting random ones to log on and play him.

It was a lazy, peaceful night, for him at least.

You stared at the picture in your Snapchat memories with disgust. You were in the second stage of grief, ‘anger’, and every stupid picture of Taehyung that popped up on your phone just pissed you off.

One year. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days with that guy just for him to bring up a break up on your anniversary? What a fucking asshole.

“I hate men,” you said mindlessly as you swung your legs back and forth on the edge of your friend’s bed, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Jimin walked around the bed, picking up whatever mess he had on the floor, “But I still can’t believe it’s been a week already. How does it feel to officially be single again? Have you talked to him?”

You released a scoff, “Not after I got all my things.”

Here’s the thing, despite the argument you had before the break up, it felt so out of the blue. You didn’t think that a conversation over the fact that he prioritized quite literally everything else but you. His photography was more important, his friends were, his gaming was… everything and when you brought it up to him an argument ensued and boom:

“If you feel that way then maybe we should just break it off, Y/n.”

“Fine, maybe we should.”

And that’s how you found yourself single and heartbroken on the day that was supposed to be your one year anniversary.

Now you’re at your friend’s house having to recount everything that happened the other night because despite telling him everything on the phone and through texts, Jimin still needed an in-person retelling.

After a while of being bored with nothing to do at his place, you decided to move it to yours where you planned to also do nothing and be bored—but with a change of scenery. He drove you both back to your apartment with no desire to do anything but continue to shit talk just in a new environment. The drive wasn’t long at all and it didn’t take much time for the two of you to be trudging up the three flights of stairs to your floor talking about whatever came to mind.

The second you got even close to your door, you heard it. Your neighbor, like usual, was being loud. From the way he was yelling you could tell he’s playing some video game right now and he never had a sense of awareness when he’s in a match. You let out a sigh as you struggled with your key for a minute and Jimin looked to your neighbor’s door, “The walls are paper thin, aren’t they?”

“Yup,” you huffed, finally pushing your door open, “And he’s always loud like that. You should hear when he has a girl over.”

“Is that why you were always at Taehyung’s?” He asked you.

“Kind of? He hasn’t lived here for long but ever since then he’s just been driving me crazy,” you told him as you looked for your remote control to turn the tv on. Jimin couldn’t help but smirk as an idea came to mind.

“You should sleep with him,” he said as he plopped down on your couch, “Nice little rebound sex and if you hear him having sex then that’s gotta mean he’s good.”

You rolled your eyes joining him on the couch, “Shut up, why don’t you go and see, yourself then?”

“Not my type.”

“You haven’t even seen him.”

“I just know,” Jimin said.

The topic of your neighbor fell once your friend and you got bored of it and found something else to do.

That night, after Jimin had left, you found yourself in a strange predicament. Now that you’re alone with your thoughts you couldn’t help but think about your ex again and that led to where you are now:

With a tub of half eaten ice cream in front of you and large, unnecessary crocodile tears falling down your cheeks. Some sad Taylor Swift played loudly in the background and you found yourself singing along annoyingly hiccuping while crying.

“NOW IM IN EXILE SEEING YOU OUT.”

Just next door, your neighbor was busy on his own. Well, okay, he’s not busy but he was trying to nap. He worked practically all night last night and he hasn’t been able to catch up on his sleep. He would’ve been asleep already if his neighbor wasn’t blurting out the wrong lyrics to Taylor Swift on the other side of the drywall. He was beginning to understand how annoyed you would get whenever he was too loud.

He tried to ignore it for a while but when the sad songs changed to upbeat ones that have you belching the lyrics loudly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stormed out of his apartment and right next door where he pounded on the door loudly, hearing you scream.

It took you a moment to realize someone was knocking and he could tell because you lowered the music enough to hear him knock. A few seconds later the door opened just slightly and realizing it was your neighbor you opened it a little more.

Jungkook was shocked at the sight of you, bloodshot eyes and smeared mascara as you smiled and said, “Hello?”

He blinked in disbelief at the way you looked but tried moving on past that, accidentally blurting out something he didn’t intend to, “Do you mind keeping it down? I’m trying to sleep and I would rather not hear you sing Taylor Swift extremely off key at the top of your lungs—“

“I’ve gotta listen to you all the time,” you told him with narrowed eyes, glaring at him. He released a sigh, “I know and now I get it but I’ve been listening to pretty much every single part of how your break up went down and that’s not something I’m interested in. Kim Taehyung is not worth all this moping around.”

The words slipped but he knew he messed up when your eyes widened in surprise and before he could apologize and say he didn’t mean to eavesdrop and that you were just so loud, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside. Jungkook stumbled along, hitting the door on his way in and you shut it behind him asking, “How do you know Taehyung?”

Shit, he thought as he looked down at how close your face was to his, still holding him by his shirt and he had to move your hand before he could answer. He didn’t mean to say that but it just slipped and now he has to explain himself to his hot mess of a neighbor.

“Um,” he waited, trying to piece together how to say it, “I overheard you on the phone the other day and the name was familiar and… well, he’s an old friend of mine.”

“Then why haven’t I ever heard of you? Wait, what’s your name?” You asked.

“Jeon Jungkook, and that’s probably because him and I haven’t been on talking terms in a while,” Jungkook said vaguely, “And you were never really home until, I’m assuming, this break up.”

“It’s because you’re so loud, yourself, that it would drive me insane so I would just spend time at his place instead,” you said honestly as you finally went to turn off the song, at least that’s what he thought, but next thing he knew you were playing the beginning of an anime, Toradora, and singing along to the intro. You didn’t even seem to care he was in here.

“What happened? You guys had a fall out?” You asked, clearly not planning on kicking him out just yet and he walked over to where you sat and joined you, “Who said you could sit on my couch?”

That made him roll his eyes despite not knowing you and he sat anyway, “Uh because you dragged me in here and started asking me questions. I’m not just gonna stand, plus I can’t nap because of you so I guess I’m watching too, who’s your favorite character?”

“Ryuuji, I like his simplicity but I’m a fan of Ami’s too, she’s had the best character growth through the show and manga,” you said as you played a random episode.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Jungkook said making himself comfortable, “I like Ryuuji too, I think he’s a bit misunderstood and I know Taiga bullies him but I don’t know, I like that he’s comfortable with her and the way him and his mom took her in? Heart bursted right there.”

“Yeah, Taiga is just his neighbor but he recognized how hard it was for her to do things on her own and it was like an instant connection between the two. He didn’t mind nurturing her but also helping her see right and wrong, vise versa.” You told him turning the volume up and he nodded.

“What’s your name again?” He asked, hearing you sniffle but not bother to wipe off the mascara that ran down your cheeks. You picked up your ice cream tub and began to eat again, “Y/n.”

“Nice to formally meet you.”

The night was long and Jungkook was stuck at work. He can’t even explain how many drunk people he’s had to turn away already and the night has just begun. His friends stood at his side all doing the same thing, checking IDs, taking entrance fees, stopping bar goers from taking their drinks outside when they leave, etc.

“So your neighbor was dating Taehyung and you didn’t even know?” Namjoon asked as he flashed a light on someone’s driver’s license.

“I had never seen him in our building but to be fair she was rarely home and I didn’t have much of a reason to pay attention,” Jungkook said motioning for a group of guys to enter.

“That’s crazy,” Hoseok said as he came over with a box of donuts, “How long has it been since you and him even talked?”

Jungkook shrugged as he took a hit of his vape, “Like two years? How was I even supposed to know he was in a relationship?”

“True,” Namjoon said, letting another group in, “It doesn’t matter to you, it’s just crazy that your neighbor was the one dating him. Is she cute?”

“Hey, can I hit your vape?” Some girl asked as Jungkook checked her ID. She was cute and dressed for a night out bud he wasn’t even paying attention.

“No,” he said to her but Namjoon made a face that immediately made him backtrack, “I mean, yes she is cute—no to hitting my vape.”

“Ooo, maybe you should comfort her and see where it goes,” Hoseok joked, making Jungkook shake his head no, watching his friend eat a donut.

“Are you crazy? She seems like a lot and I would rather not get involved in any drama with him again. She’s cool though,” Jungkook said before turning to Hoseok again, “Where'd you get the donuts?”

“Some girl,” he said with a shrug, “Want one?”

Jungkook took one and bit into it, “And let me tell you, she seems like a lot to handle so I don’t even get how her and Taehyung got together.”

Namjoon chuckled, “Are you that curious? What happened to staying out of the drama?”

“I mean… that’s what I want but considering she’s loud when she cries it’s kinda hard not to get involved, Y/n sang like six heartbreak songs the other day and I basically got serenaded,” Jungkook said dramatically, “But I’m leaving it alone. I don’t want anything to do with Taehyung and whatever heartbroken girl he left this time.”

By the time they all got off work it was a little past 3:00am and he was absolutely beat. All he wanted to do was get home and make himself some of his special ramen and knock out but as he got to his door it was hard for him to ignore the sounds of pans clattering next door. He knocked on your door before he could stop himself and waited for you to open.

“It’s you again,” you said and you wore a tank top that showed a bit of your mid drift and some plaid boxer shirt with long socks, “Don’t tell me I’m being loud again, I’m so hungry I think I’ll die if I don’t eat something right now.”

You immediately went into a mini rant like he was a friend of yours and although it surprised him, he found himself saying, “I’m hungry too, I’m gonna make ramen, want some?”

Your eyes widened hopefully, “Please?”

“Come over.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure why he even bothered talking to you but he’s gotta be honest… he’s a sucker for girls crying. Listen, he’s been in relationships but he doesn’t care much for them. Of course when he’s actually in one he tends to pay attention to his partner a lot but truthfully, they’re kinda a bother. He’s not saying he wants a relationship with you but he’s been pretty closed off lately and maybe this is a sign that he should try and befriend people outside of his circle.

Anyways, now you’re over at his place and it’s nearly 4:00am but he’s in his kitchen making ramen as you looked through his manga collection.

“Wow, you’re like a weeb,” you said, “You’ve got all the popular ones too. Demon Slayer, Naruto — god awful taste — One Piece, Jesus the whole collection of Attack on Titan? You even got little figurines, yeah you’re a weeb.”

“Hey,” Jungkook glared at you, choosing to ignore your weeb comments in favor of asking, “What’s wrong with Naruto?”

“Nothing,” You said with a shrug, “I just personally don’t trust a man who loves Naruto.”

He couldn’t help but smile as he chuckled, “Okay, I don’t love Naruto but it’s nostalgic—and don’t lie, it’s not that bad.”

“I mean it’s not… but it’s not that good either,” you said, “I’m more of a shoujo girly so just ignore me.”

“Have you even watched it then?”

“Obviously,” you said, finally returning to him, “Are you almost done? I’m starving.”

“Are you always this impatient?” Jungkook asked and it’s strange that neither one of you have taken the time to note that you’re really just strangers. You’re not friends and you’ve barely started interacting but for some reason it felt like you’ve been friends for a long time. There was no awkwardness now and it kills him to know you used to date Taehyung because you’re nothing like him.

It shouldn’t matter to him, and it doesn’t but… it’s just strange. When he was friends with Taehyung it was mostly because they had a lot of history and not because they were similar. Jungkook was very different from him and oftentimes it would lead to unnecessary disagreements that friends shouldn’t have. It’s just hard to imagine your relationship with him and how you’ve landed yourself hanging out with Jungkook instead.

He’s a little uncomfortable with that because of what Taehyung has done in the past and it makes him feel a little guilty to even talk to you when he knows he has no reason to be.

“Yes,” you said, finally drawing his attention back to you, “Always.”

“Well it’s done so grab a bowl, top left cabinet,” he said.

Soon enough the two of you were eating ramen alone together in his apartment. If he explained this to his friends they would immediately make inappropriate jokes of ‘Ramen and Chill’ but it was anything but that. It was just two neighbors up late and hungry.

“So,” Jungkook cleared his throat as he swallowed a huge bite of noodles, “If you don’t care, can I ask what happened between you and your ex.”

“Um,” you hesitated, “I don’t know… if you’re still friends I don’t really want to get into i—“

“We’re not,” Jungkook quickly cut in, “We haven’t been for a while but if you still don’t want to tell me, I get it.”

“No, I’ll tell you,” you finally said and set down your bowl on the kitchen counter that you currently sat on. Jungkook just nodded his head waiting for you to start but it seemed like you were preparing to tell the greatest story of all time.

“Well, he dumped me on our one year anniversary for starters,” you said and that immediately made him cringe at his former friend’s cruel timing, “It sort of happened out of nowhere, I mean I noticed he had gone more quiet on the days leading up to it but I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Clearly I had been wrong though because he dumped me a few days later like I had been the problem. He texted me a couple days ago asking how I’ve been but I haven’t responded. I’m still mad.”

“Rightfully so,” Jungkook said, taking your empty plate and setting it down in his sink, “Did he ever give you a real reason?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “Maybe not, I can’t remember.”

The two of you were quiet for a moment and before he could think of something else to talk about before you left, you asked, “What about you? What happened between you and Kim Taehyung?”

Jungkook didn’t respond right as he debated if it was worth telling you or not. It was years ago and it was never anything that serious but… at the time it had been and they’re clearly still not friends. He raised his shoulders in a shrug, “It’s a long story and not worth it.”

Instead of pushing him to go on you released a tired yawn not caring for how you looked as you hopped off his counter, “Alright well I’m fed and now tired too so I think I’m going to try and sleep a bit before work. You should catch some sleep before you have to go in.”

“I just got off,” Jungkook said as he opened the front door for you, “I’m a club bouncer, sadly.”

“Ooo, maybe you’ve kicked me out before,” you joked, “I can get messy if I’ve had one too many drinks.”

“I’m sure you can,” Jungkook said with a chuckle, “But goodnight, when do you have to wake up?”

“Mm, in like three hours? I work at a coffee shop,” You said, finally stepping out into the hall. His eyes widened before he was fully pushing you out, “Go to sleep, Y/n.”

When you were finally gone and he was alone in his home, he didn’t even make it to his bed and instead passed out on the couch.

You wouldn’t say you and Jungkook have become friends because you don’t actually know if that’s true. What you do know is that for the past week enough you’ve been talking way more to him than your other friends but only because they’re busy. Jimin has already argued with you [very dramatically, you will say] because he’s accused you of getting a new best friend which wasn’t true.

It was just extremely easy to talk to Jungkook, like you’ve been friends for years and he’s slowly helped you forget about Taehyung. He’s not doing anything out of the ordinary but for some reason Jungkook is really good at taking care of people. Take now for instance, he’s decided to come with you grocery shopping because you didn’t have a car and would have to take everything on the train.

Now you two are splitting a grocery cart and both going shopping as you asked, “Jungkook, how come I never hear girls at your place anymore?”

“Hm?” Jungkook asked absentmindedly as he stared at different types of milk, “Because you got annoyed by it.”

That made you smirk a bit as you used to shopping cart for support making it tilt slightly, “Wow, I didn’t realize you’ve grown so considerate of me, Mr. International Playboy.”

“I don’t know why you insist on calling me that, I’ve only slept with one person who wasn’t from here and she was Japan so still not too far,” he said with a sigh as he put things in the cart, “Besides, don’t get too cocky, I just don’t have the time to tell anyone that I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“Mm,” you said, pushing the cart along while he held onto the other end of it and dragged it along, “Well, I don’t even see your friends over. Do you even have friends?”

That made him roll his eyes, “Obviously, I just… I’m antisocial, you know this.”

“Do I?” You asked, picking through boxes of cereal, “You seem pretty social to me.”

“Yeah, well you’re different.”

“Ugh,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, leaving him behind as you kept walking, “I hate when guys so that because they can never explain how—“

“For starters you’re the only person I’ve seen have mascara running down your face while you watch Toradora, that’s different right?” Jungkook teased a bit by bumping into your shoulder when he caught up, “And cry and 3 in the morning because you can’t cook.”

“Okay that doesn’t make me different, that just makes me a hot mess.”

He smiled, “I mean yeah, but you’re not embarrassed. You’re actually kinda fun to be around and when we talk we can just talk about anything, y’know? That’s what makes you different.”

You shrugged and looked away trying to ignore the growing flush that filled your cheeks, “Good enough explanation—Hey! What are you doing this weekend? Do you have to work?”

“Yeah.”

“Lame.”

Jungkook stopped walking as he turned to look at you, “Why?”

“You know Kim Seokjin? He’s having a little pool party and he invited me but I know Taehyung is going to be there and I didn’t want to go alone,” you told him. Jungkook knew Jin, they used to be close friends but they’re a little distant now. He was also invited to the party but he had work so he was already not planning on going.

“Have you asked Jimin?” He asked you as he caught up to where you were. You nodded, “Yeah but he’s going to Busan for the weekend and my other friend Yoongi will be busy, it’s whatever. I’ll stop by for a second and then head out.”

Jungkook didn’t say much else after that. He understood how you must have felt. You want to go for Jin’s sake but you’re wary about seeing your ex boyfriend. He felt bad he had to work and your other friends were busy but it’s not like he could just call in to work for a party.

When Friday night rolled around you had taken about two shots before even leaving your house just to give yourself the courage to go. There wasn’t a need for you to go to the party but Jin had become your friend through Taehyung and you weren’t going to let any of them think you were avoiding Taehyung because you’re still heartbroken.

So when you showed up alone with your head held high, you were greeted warmly by the host. He wrapped you in his arms, “You came! So, drinks are inside, just get whatever you want and you can chill inside or outside. Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, the others were busy,” you told him honestly, “But it’s whatever, I’m just here to get drunk.”

Jin ruffled your hair with a smile, “Alright, come find me if you get lonely.”

You gave him a thumbs up and headed toward the kitchen where all the drinks were set up. You just got here so you haven’t seen Taehyung yet but you’re sure he’s around the corner getting drunk and you didn’t want to be sober when you ran into him.

“Y/n?”

Shit.

You looked up in time to catch your ex boyfriend walking into the open kitchen with furrowed brows. You debated ignoring him but that would just make it seem like you were still caught up on him, so instead you gave a nod of your head and said a short, “Hey?”

“Uh, hey,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “What are you doing here?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion, “I was invited?”

“I mean, I know but…” he bit his lip nervously and you dated Taehyung long enough to know something was up. Just as you were gonna ask what was wrong with you being here, a short brunette appeared at his arm, wrapping hers around his and looking up at him not bothering to acknowledge you.

“There you are, you can’t just leave me at a party with people I don’t know when you invited me, TaeTae,” she said looking up at him with starry eyes. You tried to not look surprised as he looked down in embarrassment, suddenly looking nervous when he looked back at you. The girl finally looked at you and asked, “Who are you?”

Taehyung opened his mouth to tell her to shut up but you were smiling already, “Y/n, you two look great together—even matching clothes—but I gotta go, there’s better things I could be doing.”

He watched you leave without another word and he slid the girl’s hand off his arm. He made a mistake, he should have known you’d be here. Why did he think you would still be mourning the break up and wouldn’t bother to show? He barely knew this girl but she was hot so he invited her in hopes of making hooking up after… but he didn’t plan on his ex seeing him with another girl. He kind of missed you.

Jungkook wasn’t telling himself he came to see you.

The reason he showed up at this stupid party was because Jin kept asking him too and since his other two friends would be working and it wouldn’t be too busy, they let him leave. He debated just going home and going to bed but then he remembered about yo—Jin—and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to show up.

“Dude, it’s been so long,” Jin said with a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, “Let’s get you a drink an—“

“Have you seen Y/n?”

Jin stopped walking, he looked at his old friend with confusion, “Y/n?”

Jungkook nodded his head not bothering to question why Jin made a face. Jin was a lot closer to Taehyung so it’s not that he didn't know the two dated. Jungkook bets Jin is just surprised on why Jungkook, of all people, would be looking for you. Jin cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “Um, not totally sure but check in the back. Can I ask why?”

“I’m looking for her,” Jungkook gave him a short and vague response before he was leaving to find you. On his way out he saw something he wished he hadn’t and it only made him want to find you sooner. Just as he got outside he looked over to find Taehyung extremely close to another girl and before he could look away, his former friend looked at him but didn’t acknowledge him whatsoever.

Jungkook didn’t care about that, he cares more about finding you and if you’ve seen Taehyung yet or if Jungkook still had time to distract.

“Liar!”

He whipped around at an instance when he felt a pointed finger like his bicep, “How?”

“You said you had to work!” You said slurring just slightly and clutching a half drunken drink. Jungkook just shrugged, “I didn’t lie. I did have to work but they let me go. Shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”

“I guess,” you grumbled, taking another sip from your cup, “Want a drink?”

“Nah,” Jungkook said, “I drove so I’m staying sober in case I need to take you home. How many drinks have you had?”

You didn’t respond right away as you looked up in thought. Jungkook will admit your attempt to focus on your thoughts made you look a bit cute. Your brows were scrunched together and your cheeks puffed up with your index finger tapping your chin, “Like since I got here? Or in general?”

His smile slowly fell, “Y/n, how much have you drank?”

“Not a lot…” you said with a high pitched voice that gave way to the fact that you were lying, “Maybe?”

With a small sigh he looked down at your drink, “Is that your last one?”

“Probably not—Hey! Did you see Taehyung?” You asked, turning your back to him, “He’s here with some girl.”

“I know,” Jungkook said reaching a hand out to drag you back to him, “Did you two talk?”

“Yeah, he came up to me first,” you said with a small scoff, missing a step and Jungkook had to grab you by the waist to keep you from tripping, “And then that girl just shows up clinging to him and she had the nerve to ask who I was? As if he’s not the one who came up to me—as if I’m not the one who dated him!?”

Jungkook can just feel the rising anger bubbling up inside you the longer you looked and he didn’t like that. You needed a distraction, he knew you were over Taehyung for the most part because anyone would get mad seeing their recent ex act chummy with another person.

“What an asshole!” You nearly yelled in your drunken state as you turned your back to the sight of your ex boyfriend flirting with a girl right in front of you. Jungkook released a huff, “I know, just don’t let it get to you. He’s not worth it.”

He tried to grab you as you stumbled a bit in your steps but you just moved farther away from him. The party was loud and he felt as if everyone was drunk but him and that wasn’t usually the case. Usually, he’s the drunkest one here but right now he’s babysitting you and he doesn’t know why. All night he’s watched you down drink after drink until all you could do was slur on your words and stumble when you walk.

It’s only been a week since the two of you started to really talk and hang out so he’s not used to this side of you and he genuinely does not know what to do. How did he ever think his neighbor was quiet and uptight when you’re such a hot mess? Maybe it’s because he didn’t see you often considering you were always at Taehyung’s but damn, he did not expect this.

And on top of that, he doesn’t get how you and Taehyung ever dated when to him you were completely different. He can’t picture Taehyung following after you as you swayed in your steps ready to walk over to your ex boyfriend and tell him off like he was currently doing.

Wait…

Jungkook seemed to trip over the pavement as he pushed through the crowds of people that led outside to the pool area, calling after you, “Y/n! What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna talk to him,” you yelled, not bothering to look at him, “It hasn’t even been a month and he’s already hitting on other girls knowing that I’m here? That’s such a dick move!”

“I know, Y/n but listen— excuse me — “ he pushed past a couple of girls to get to you, “You’re not going to gain anything. You’re drunk and there’s a lot of people here and — excuse me — you don’t make any sense right now!”

You clearly weren’t listening and Jungkook was beginning to panic. You’re in stage four of grief, ‘depression’ and he knows you’re sad and you just want to get things off your chest but he knows that if you try and confront Taehyung in the drunk state that you’re in… you’re the one who’s going to look like a fool, not him. Nobody is even going to bat an eye at him but they’ll watch you judgingly and you’ll regret even speaking to him by morning. Jungkook came to a stop as he watched you chug back the drink in your hand zoning in on Taehyung who stood on the other side of the pool with his hand on a girl’s ass and a smirk on his face. Fuck.

You’re mad at Taehyung and you want to get it out but right now isn’t the time. If you want to confront him about something you need to do it sober and somewhere private, not at a party for all to hear and laugh at you as you slur on your words. Jungkook knew you were mad and that wasn’t going to change… all he could do is change who you’re mad at…

There was so much on your mind as you made room for yourself through crowds of people so you could get to Taehyung. The pool lit up the backyard in hues of blue and purple as neon lights sunk to the bottom of it yet nobody actually swam. Everyone just stood around it and in your way when you had a mission. You were going to march right up to Taehyung and ask him what his problem was. He dumped you but played it off like it was mutual… He called you two weeks later to get that he misses you [even after you got all your shit out of his house] and has the nerve to smile at you tonight but flirt with another girl knowing you’re here? God, you were so fucking mad and all you wanted to do was confront him, not even caring who saw or heard and what they thought about you. You were too drunk to care.

He was about fifteen feet away now and you tried to call for him, “Tae—“

A loud yell replaced his name and big hands grabbed you by your thighs and pulled you up. The familiar scent of Dior cologne filled your nose and when you got thrown over a muscular back you knew right away who it was, “Jungkook! Put me down! What is your problem?”

“Honestly?” Jungkook asked as he fixed you over his shoulder, turning you around in the opposite direction of where Taehyung was, “You. You’re my problem, right now so let’s go home before you make a drunk fool of yourself in front of everyone.”

“Fuck you, I’m not gonna make a fool of myself,” you said and even then you couldn’t hide the fact that your words were coming out all wrong and your vision was blurry, “I just want to talk!”

“Well now’s not the time!” Jungkook yelled ignoring all the stares the two of you recieved, “So shut up and let’s go!”

You groaned loudly, fighting his hold with everything you said, mind still foggy from the alcohol, “No! The only place I want to go is on the other side of this pool an—“

Jungkook didn’t waste a single second in thinking about what he was going to do to make you forget about how mad you were at Taehyung right now. The only thing that could come to his mind was to direct your anger toward him instead and before he knew it he was walking toward the pool hearing your shouts in protest thinking he was going to throw you in—but he had other plans.

His point wasn’t to leave you to be the only one embarrassed [which would have been the case if he let you confront Taehyung or if he threw you in the water by yourself], his point was to make you mad at him and only him. So despite your continuous effort to fight him off, he took the single leap into the deep end, not letting you go until you were both submerged into the water with his arms around you.

You barely managed to hold your breath once you realized what he was doing and even then you couldn’t wrap your mind around it till you swam your way back to the surface. Jungkook watched you brush your wet hair out of your face in search of him and he ignored all the loud cheering around the two of you for being the first in the water, cocky smile on his face when you glared at him.

“What is wrong with you?!” You yelled as you purposely splashed water in his face out of anger—surprisingly feeling sobered up now. Jungkook didn’t say anything, he only laughed and swam the very short distance to you, arms around your waist and dragging you back into the water with him, fighting to hold his breath when he felt your hand in his hair yanking him deeper inside.

The second time you came up for air the only thing on your mind was how to murder your neighbor and make it look like an accident. Jungkook just kept smiling at you with that cocky look in his eyes as he asked, “Well?”

You almost didn’t bother answering as you swam to the edge in search of a way to pull yourself up without having to go to the ladder which was conveniently very close to where Taehyung was now watching the two of you with furrowed brows.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked as he lifted you up the edge with ease despite you telling him to fuck off and pulled himself up swiftly to follow you. You wrung the water out of your shirt, “Obviously!”

“Okay! But at who?” Jungkook asked, ignoring everyone looking at him and trying to talk to him. You scoffed, “You! Asshole.”

“Good,” Jungkook said triumphantly, completely unaware of the way his former friend watched you two leave the backyard party completely drenched in water.

The only thing on Taehyung’s mind was what the hell was going on? When he saw you earlier you weren’t with anyone. It was just you and he didn’t even know Jungkook was here but maybe it’s because it’s been so long since he last saw the kid and he’s very obviously grown up and changed with all the tattoos and piercings. So all he wanted to know was how the fuck did you two know each other?

When morning came and the sun beamed down on your face more than you were used to, you woke up with an annoyed groan turning in bed to hide. The scent of shampoo coated the pillow you rested your head on and it was a surprisingly deep smell that had you snuggled into the pillow further you hid from the light. In an effort to fall back asleep and ignore the pounding of your head, you rolled onto your side hitting a wall of pillows and blankets. Your eyes opened just slightly, vision still blurry as you blinked sleep away and allowed yourself to look around, a scream leaving your lips as you toppled off the bed. Tangled in a blanket you hit the floor with a loud thud that had the person that made you scream shoot you abruptly.

Jungkook looked around, leaning over the side of the bed with an annoyed huff, “Jeez, you gave me a heart attack.”

Your jaw dropped as you sat on the floor, “I gave you a heart attack? Um what are you doing in my bed?”

“Your bed?” Jungkook furrowed his brows, “Look around sweetie.”

You did just that, eyes widening even further that he swears they’ll pop out of their socket, “Where am I?”

“My room,” Jungkook laid back down with a loud yawn.

“And what am I doing here?”

He released a sigh like he couldn’t be bothered but said, “Well after your drunk fiasco at the party, I brought you back and you couldn’t find your keys so you slept over here.”

Your brows furrowed, “What happened to my clothes?”

“They were wet and you were falling all over the place so I had to change you—don’t worry I had my eyes closed,” he told you and you took it in. Jungkook was sober majority of last night and you could only imagine what happened when he brought you home.

“Where are your keys?” He asked tiredly after he held you up with one arm ignoring the fact that you were both still drenched in pool water. You hiccuped, “I forgot them.”

“What?!” Jungkook asked louder than intended and you glared at him, “Don’t yell at me.”

“You’re a mess,” Jungkook grumbled, dragging you over to his front door, “I’ve never had to take care of a grown adult this much.”

“Just leave me outside to deal with my misery,” you said dramatically as he hauled you into his apartment, letting you fall to the floor once inside. Jungkook just shook his head as he left to his bedroom in search of something you could change into. When he came back you were sprawled on the floor half asleep and he punched the space between his brows in annoyance, “Y/n, get up, you need to change.”

All you did was groan, “I tired.”

“Yeah, well me too,” Jungkook kneeled down to grab you by your ankles and drag you across the floor before making you sit up. He angrily pulled the shirt over your head asking himself why he had to deal with you because your ex is a piece of shit.

Okay, he doesn’t have to but who else will?

The shirt fit you big so when you flipped back to the floor with a whine he asked, “Take off your jeans or else the wet denim is gonna give you a rash.”

“Yesh, dad,” you raised a hand to your forehead as if saluting him and you did as told, giving up halfway and making him finish yanking them down your legs with his eyes closed.

“You’re not allowed to drink anymore when we’re together,” Jungkook said, ordering you to slide your shirt off from under the tee, “At least not as much as you did tonight.”

He took your wet clothes and went to change before hanging it all to dry outside and when he went to the living room carrying a blanket for you to sleep on the couch with, you were asleep… still on the floor. With a stomp of his foot in a mini tantrum, Jungkook knelt down, slipped an arm under your neck and the other under your knees and picked you up with a huff. He wasn’t even careful when he let you fall onto the couch.

“Oh god, did we do anything stupid?” You asked referring to the fact that you had woken up in bed with him and wearing some t-shirt of his. Jungkook rolled his eyes, “No. You were supposed to sleep in the living room but you woke me up in the middle of the night because Bam kept kicking your face. Then you got all touchy and I made this pillow fort to protect myself from you.”

It had to be close to 3:00am when Jungkook finally let himself fall asleep. He made himself comfortable in bed trying to relax after the hectic night he’s had and when he was just finally starting to fall, a loud knock on his door snapped him awake.

“Ju—koo!” A whiny voice called from the other side of the door.

“What?!”

“Cold,” you whined, head leaned against the door, “And Bam won't stop licking my face.”

Jungkook huffed, “Tell him to stop!”

“I did,” you knocked on the door. He kicked off his blankets in annoyance, “You’re so needy!”

Even as he said that, he got out of bed and opened his bedroom door, moving to the side as you pushed past him and threw yourself down on his bed with your blanket wrapped around your body tightly. He watched you with tired eyes before going to his side of the bed. He grabbed all the extra pillows, moved you to one side and set up a wall to separate himself from you.

“God, what happened last night?” You groaned as you got up only to fall back onto his bed trying to piece it all together. You only remembered a couple things, “You threw me into the pool, asshole.”

“Yeah? Well, I would’ve been a bigger asshole if I let you make a fool of yourself in front of Taehyung and everyone else,” Jungkook said. You looked at him, only turning your head on its side and he did the same, neither of you saying anything for a moment.

You should probably say thank you but the way things unfolded, it might only make things more awkward. You were already slightly embarrassed but yes definitely seen you act stupid plenty of times so instead you said, “Help me get inside my apartment.”

The two of you stood on his balcony now, both looking toward yours which was separated from his by about two feet. He shifted his gaze toward you, “I’m confused, what are you trying to do?”

“The door is unlocked, I just gotta get over there and let myself in,” you said with a gulp as you poked down at the forty foot drop. Jungkook shook his head, “Are you stupid? I’m not letting you do that.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” You asked him with your hand on your hip. He mirrored your pose with more attitude, “Call the maintenance man, genius.”

“It’s gonna take them like three days to get back to me, Einstein, are you helping me or not?” You asked and you watched him stop to think.

“I’ll do it,” Jungkook said but you just shook your head.

“No, I’ve got underwear hanging to dry by the door, it’s not happening,” you told him, already walking to the railing. Jungkook gave up on arguing with you over it and followed after you. You gripped the railing looking over to your balcony which was only two feet away. This should be easy… all you have to do is get over his to yours, he ever has a little stool that he sits on that you could use as a boost.

Jungkook thought about what he should do to help you and in the end just held you by the waist to keep you balanced as you lifted a leg over the railing and stepped onto the short side of the cement ledge, “Oh my god, you’ve gotta be the craziest girl I’ve ever met.”

“You know a lot of people say that to me,” you said and the two foot gap didn’t seem as intimidating anymore, “Okay, let me go.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook begged as his arms tightened around your waist, “This is a bad idea.”

“Too late, I’m already halfway there so let go before I fall on purpose to make you feel bad,” you nervously joked as he let go but not without calling you a bitch. With your breath held tightly, you stretched a leg out first feeling the end of your balcony touch it and with a careful leap, you held onto your railing hearing Jungkook gasp nervously. He watched you swing a leg over until the railing was between both of them and as you finally touched down on your side, you slipped, falling into the hard cement with a groan.

Jungkook shielded his eyes with his hands, “Are you good?”

“Barely,” you huffed as you forced yourself to your feet and checked to see if the glass sliding door was in fact unlocked. Your heart seemed to tighten in relief as you opened it, huge smile on your face looking back to your neighbor, “Got it! Okay, I’m gonna get cleaned up, thanks.”

Jungkook was already picking up his pack of cigarettes and bringing it to his lips, “You stress me out.”

“I’ll make up for it,” you said already halfway through your door, “Whatever you want, just tell me and I’ll do it.”

With that, you left for your apartment in search for your spare keys and he sat down on his stool with a breath of relief. He couldn’t believe you and the more he thought about it, the more confused he got on how you and Taehyung found each other…

The thought didn’t last long in his head when he looked down at his vibrating phone, eyebrows furrowed as he read the caller ID.

“KIM TAEHYUNG”

It took Jungkook a moment to even decide if he wanted to answer or not but in the end he couldn’t help himself and curiosity got the best of him, “Hello?”

Taehyung’s voice was unusually cheery, “Hey man! How have you been?”

Jungkook shrugged even though his former friend couldn’t see him, “Uh, good I guess, what’s up?”

“I was calling cause of last night…” Taehyung said dragging out his words as if it would ring a bell for Jungkook.

He didn’t say anything wondering how this would go. It’s weird that Taehyung was even calling him and if there’s any reason behind it, it’s you, “Hm…”

Taehyung wasn’t sure why he expected a bigger response but he brushed off his small hum and went on, “Well I saw you with Y/n and everyone was kinda curious, what happened?”

“Oh, Y/n did something to piss me off so I got back at her. Why?” Jungkook said playing off the events from last night until he understood why Taehyung was bothering to talk to him after their fall out.

“Hm? Oh um, well, I just… I didn’t know the two of you were friends,” Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly as he thought about it. Last night confused the hell out of him. First, he ran into you as he’s with another girl and second, he runs into an old friend—to make matters more confusing it appears you two knew each other and he doesn’t get how.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk, a little annoyed but he ignored it as he went inside, “I get it, how could you know anyway? When’s the last time you and I talked? Like two years ago?”

Taehyung nervously chuckled, “Yeah, I guess. So did Y/n get home safely?”

He rolled his eyes, “Why are you so curious about her?”

“Huh?” Taehyung was genuinely surprised, “She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” He asked, deciding to play dumb.

“We used to date?” Taehyung said seriously, hoping Jungkook wouldn’t like the news if in fact, you’ve never told him. He wants to know what’s going on between you, he doesn’t care if he’s your ex, he deserves to know.

“Oh, no Y/n’s never even mentioned you,” Jungkook lied for your sake. He wasn’t going to give Taehyung the benefit of knowing he’s still on your mind.

“Not even at the party?” Taehyung asked with furrowed brows, suspicious if Jungkook was telling the truth or not.

“Uh, no? Why? Did something happen?” Jungkook asked as he pet his dog subconsciously as he smiled listening to the sound of music already coming from your apartment.

“No, not really. So, what are you doing? How about we get lunch and catch up?” Taehyung asked and if he could see Jungkook right now, he would see how unimpressed he was by that idea.

Jungkook leaned back in the couch and said, “I’m kinda busy, maybe another time?”

“I mean, okay… sure, yeah let’s catch up another time.”

Taehyung was suspicious, of course he was! When he broke up with you it’s because he told himself he didn’t have feelings for you anymore but clearly that’s not true because seeing you with Jungkook… it pissed him off. Sure, you and Taehyung didn’t have much in common but you worked, that’s why you were together for a year.

Jungkook is—he’s a shut-in hermit crab and you’re not. He doesn’t bother with drama or getting to know someone new so how the hell did you two even meet and have you really never even mentioned him once? Jungkook clearly didn’t know that the two of you were together and that just pisses him off even more. Why is it that you didn’t talk about him to Jungkook? It’s not like the two of you broke up long ago, it’s recent.

When the call finally came to an end he was left alone to wonder what the hell was going on with you two?

There wasn’t a shift in the air that you two have noticed but something has definitely changed. The amount of times you hang out has increased dramatically to the point where you were at least seeing each other once a day whether it be to eat ramen or go to the gas station. If you were free and Jungkook was free… chances are you’re gonna see what you can do together. Your friends swear that he’s all you talk about lately but you don’t think that’s true—until you hear that how friends think he talks a lot about you two.

It’s strange, your friendship has just grown stronger each day. Everyone keeps trying to say that there’s no way the two of you are just friends but you really are…

Seriously…

“I can’t believe you did that,” you said laying back on the couch with your feet over his lap. You wouldn’t have had your feet on him at all if he didn’t force himself down on your small couch.

“Did what?” Jungkook as he leaned over your legs so that he could sit forward and play his game better.

You pushed your heel against his thigh, “Drag your PS5 over here instead of just playing at your place.”

Jungkook just smacked his lips in annoyance toward his game, still not bothering to even look at you at all, his eyes stayed on your tv screen as he said, “You wanted to hang out.”

“But you’re not even talking to me,” You threw your head back against the armrest of the couch moving your feet off him and that finally got him to pay attention and he paused his game to look at you. He even went as far as setting his controller down on your coffee table, a little smirk on his face.

“Aw, you want me to pay attention to you?” Jungkook asked with a small laugh, “Okay, okay, how was your day?”

In reality he wanted to ask how you’ve been feeling lately—more specifically, toward him. The way the two of you became friends was a bit random and him even being here with you is strange considering the fact that he became your friend after you broke up with Taehyung. The timing wasn’t right but he does know that your friendship is strong and you don’t think about whatever happened in the past when you’re with him.

He likes that. He likes how easy it is around you.

Sure, sometimes the line in which he separates you from a friend to someone he is attracted to is beginning to blur.

No, he doesn’t find you attractive.

Well okay, yes he does. Even after seeing you with makeup down your face, drunk out of your mind, and first thing in the morning when your hair's a mess—for only being friends for a short amount of time he’s really seen a lot of sides of you.

But you’re just friends, he knows that, he doesn’t expect more… he didn’t even want more. Since the beginning all he’s ever done is talk about wanting to just be by himself and mind his business but clearly that all changed when you came along and to be honest, he liked the change.

“It was okay,” you said, making him realize that he had moved his hand onto your calf, and was softly sliding if higher then back down, “Just really boring and then I ask you to hang out and you’re just y’know… gaming.”

For a second Jungkook thought you were being serious and actually began to feel bad about possibly upsetting you by not giving you any attention. Just a moment later though he could see you smile and hold back a laugh when you watch him go serious with worry. When he realized you wanted to laugh, he rolled his eyes, “Whatever, I thought you were being serious.”

You just chuckled watching him lean against the other end of the armrest. He was sitting forward but he was looking at you sideways, one hand still on your leg and you just looked back at him. The game wasn’t even playing anymore and he was only focused on you now and the way you were looking at him.

His fingers began to tap against your leg, softly caressing every now and then, a small smirk coming to his face. Your brows furrowed, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook said, running a hand over his face. You sat up a bit, “Now you have to tell me.”

“Nothing, it’s just…” he was hesitant, debating if he should be honest or not, “Don’t look at me like that.”

You released a scoff, sitting up further and moving away from him, “Like what?”

“Like you wouldn’t mind if I kissed you right now,” he was serious now as he said and you can see the change in his gaze. You were too stunned to speak, you wanted to say it was unexpected but like… things have felt different lately…

You could see the way his tongue poked against his cheek looking at you with a dazed look in his eyes. You’re not sure what made you say it but you asked, “You want to kiss me?”

Jungkook laughed softly, shifting his eyes to his lap, “Basically.”

You bit down on your lip in thought, quite literally checking him out from head to toe. He was even sitting with his tattooed arm in your view and he’s been rubbing your leg with it this entire time.

This isn’t a good idea.

Jungkook is your friend.

Sure, you’re not mad anymore about whatever happened with you ex, and sure… you haven’t been intimate with someone in a while, and yes Jungkook is attractive from the way his voice sounds to the way he walks but… but he’s your friend.

So why was it so easy for you to say, “So do it then.”

Jungkook didn’t need much else of a sign before he was going for it. He went to cross his end of the couch to yours but before he could get all the way over, you were meeting him halfway with your hands coming around his neck almost immediately. Your lips met so suddenly at first that it was a bit of surprise but neither of you shied away from initiating a kiss.

The first thing he noticed was how soft your lips were against his. They were warm too and your mouth felt so good that Jungkook brought his hand up to your hair so that you couldn’t pull away too soon but you kissed him so eagerly that he doubts that would even happen.

It was just wet and needy, soft sounds coming out whenever his tongue licked along yours. Your arms wrapped around him more and Jungkook was so quick to pull you into him until you were practically stumbling onto his lap. His hands found your waist and he slid them down toward your thighs so he could fix your legs to straddle him, not once pulling his mouth from yours.

Your hairs were in his hair, brushing it out of his face as you attempted to pull away. Jungkook just chased after your lips, feeling the line of split that connected your swollen lips together even when you backed away. He was just as out of breath as you and when your eyes met there was just a small moment of hesitation wondering if this was a good idea or not.

The moment didn’t last long when felt you the slightest hint of excitement in his sweats from the way you straddled him and you couldn’t help but grind your hips down. Jungkook swallowed back a moan with your lips as he kissed you, pulling you back against him so that you could sit directly over his growing erection. His eyes fell shut deepening the kiss with his tongue and yours relishing in your make out and the way your body felt pressed against his.

“Y/n,” his voice was hoarse as his hand slid down to the back of your cotton shorts, thankful for the thin material of them when he groped your ass. You were both in clothes ready for bed and he could still feel you through the layers. Your hair fell to one side as you kissed along the corners of his mouth, a hand flat on his shirt while you trailed down toward his jaw. He licked his dry lips when he felt the tender affections on the angle of his jaw as the hand over his t-shirt ran over his chest. He let his head fall back trying to catch his breath when you playfully nipped at skin, kissing away any pain and sucking lightly.

Both of his hands found your butt, squeezing here and there and tongue kissing you messily. It honestly felt so good and when his hands slid up to lift your shirt a little, you didn’t hesitate to sit back and behind taking it off yourself. His rough hands fell to hold your waist, holding you back as he took in the sight of you. Jungkook would be lying if he said he hasn’t checked you out before. It wasn’t entirely his fault, he had to get you out of wet clothes!—well, okay, yeah it was his fault they were drenched in the first place but his intention wasn’t to see your body.

It just happened and every day after that he had to remind himself that you were a good friend and you were going through it and him getting any feelings for you wouldn’t be good.

A pleased sigh left his lips when your hand began to touch the end of his shirt sliding underneath to run over the ridges of abs you knew he had. You could see them through pretty much every fitted shirt he wore. Even when he wore loose and oversized tees there was no way to hide his back muscles. He was so strong too, you didn’t expect anything less than the taut muscle in his torso and you just could help but want to feel all of it.

Jungkook helped you take his shirt off and it joined yours on the floor before he was leaning forward to kiss your neck. His thick fingers ran along your spine in search for the clip on your bra and swiftly unclasped it, dragging his hands under the material. While doing this, Jungkook begins trailing his kisses down your neck to your shoulder, following the straps down your arms, taking it off you and discarding it so he could touch you without barrier. A soft meowl left your lips when his big hands cupped your breasts and pressed the pad of his thumbs against your rounded nipples smoothly. It didn’t take long for his fingers circling around your nips to turn into his mouth swallowing around one.

“Jungkook,” you whined lightly when he moved his tongue around your erect nipples, you were getting so turned on your core was dripping with need.

Jungkook couldn’t find it in himself to be more patient and once he felt your covered push grinding on his dick, he just has to remove some of the layers between you two. His big hand raised your hips enough with you help so could his sweats down as far as they could and you shift to kneel beside him on the couch watching him undress.

You began taking your shorts off, a small groan leaving his lips at the sight, “You’re not wearing underwear?”

He was wondering why it was so easy for him to grope your ass and feel you so much more and it just made his dick throb with excitement at the sight before him. You nodded your head looking at him with those same eyes that started this in the first place and he felt your hand making its way to his hard cock. His lips parted with a gasp when you took it in your hands, giving one shy stroke right off the bat.

Jungkook didn’t waste a moment hesitating as he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer in his side to jerk him off while his other hand began to teasingly run along your inner thighs.

You were soaked and it didn’t go unnoticed by his long fingers. His middle finger ran between your folds teasingly as you made a fist with your small hand and stroked him from his base to his tip making sure to rub against that soft spot and bulging vein. His precum was beginning to dribble out and every now and then you would coat his head with it before flicking your wrist on a downward stroke. Light moans from the both of you filled the room as his fingertips rubbed against your clit, covering it in your slick and swiping all the way to the puddle of wetness at your core. Your lips drew open in a moment when you felt his middle finger begin to tease your entrance and finally push its way in, a thick amount of slick joining him creating a light squelching sound.

You quickly dragged him into a hunger kiss as he began to fuck your with his thick finger while you fisted his cock. Jungkook licked the shell of your ear, “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

His words had you moaning and shaking when his finger became two getting but more rough, even bucking his lips into your hand. Your mouth was permanently open in pleasure as you said, “Do it then.”Jungkook just smirks as he removes his hand so he can pull you up to straddle his lap again but this time feeling your wet push right on top of his fat dick. Jungkook had to bite on his lip to stop from moaning when he felt some of your wetness coat his member as he moved to grip your hip. Your hands went to his shoulders to support yourself as you lifted your hips off his thighs enough for him to align his cock with your entrance, moaning when he ran his tip of your clit, “Fuck, I don’t have a condom, Y/n, fuck.”

“It’s okay.” You moaned as you helped guide him in, “Just pull out.”

Jungkook nodded his head as he finally held you by the waist and helped you down his throbbing dickwith a groan.

"Jungkook," you whined at the stretch and the way he dig his fingertips into your hip bone to steady himself when he pushed through your tight walls. It took you a second to get used to his size but once you had, your hands were on his shoulders and your feet on the couch, raising your hips until only the tip of his cock was inside, and slowly took him all in again. A low groan bubbled up in his throat, sliding his hands down ass, helping you fuck yourself on his hard cock, eyes on your chest which was just right in front of his face.

You were right and your pussy completely coated his dick with your slick that everytime you came up, the slide back down was easier. Your body clung against his as he began to mouth at your exposed neck and collarbone. His legs were spread apart to give you the room and he felt so good inside of you. It hasn’t been a crazy amount of time since you last had sex but it was long enough to make you appreciate Jungkook’s big dick. Your hands were curling into his hair feeling your lower back begin to hurt in this position but he helped you raise and lower your tight pussy on his length. A small gasp left your lips as you felt his tongue tease a hard nipple, licking it expertly before wrapping his lips around it. He had one hand on your other breast and the other hand guiding you to fuck yourself on him. He nipped at the bud playing with it while he twisted and pinched at the other. Your body pressed against his and each time you sank down his cock, you would grind your hips forward humping him and angling yourself where he could feel your folds parting.

Jungkook groped your ass, digging his nails in surely to leave a mark and he raised his hips off the couch enough to fuck into you, ramming his cock in and out with each pretty moan you let out, his mouth was still on your tits so he sounded muffled when he groaned, "So fucking good."

Jungkook left wet, sloppy kisses over your throat, moving his hands to grip your waist harshly. Jungkook's nail dug into your soft flesh as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock hearing you whine tiredly. You were already becoming puddy in his hands and he took it upon himself to wrap your legs around him as he turned your bodies to lay you flat on the couch. A loud moan left your lips with this new angle and now that he was on top, he didn’t ease up his thrusts, only let them get more forceful with more intent. Your nails clawed at his back, running them down toward where his back dimples should be and you practically guided his cock in and out of your wet cunt, making him fuck you more roughly than before.

“Oh my god,” you said breathlessly, throwing your head back against the armrest and looking up so you could try and calm down as he fucked you. He had a hand roughly groping your tits and the other on the back of the couch for support as he thrusted deeply into you, only moving his hips and contracting every muscle to do so, “Fuck, Jungkook, ngh.”

"Just like that," he bit into his lip looking down at how pretty you looked under him, only making his hips move more rapidly, “Take my cock, Y/n.”

You nodded but you couldn’t even look at him as you tried to keep yourself under control by staring up at the ceiling, “S—so close.”

Jungkook groaned when he felt your wet cunt tighten around him making it harder for him to drag his cock out but it made him have to fuck itright back into you with more force. He could feel your ring of nerves clenching around his member as it sucked him into your folds and each time was harder to get back out. It was wet and slippery and you were so fucking hot that he knew he wouldn’t last. He dropped his face against your neck, “You’re so good for me, so fucking right goddamn.”

He wasn't going to last much longer either.

He hasn't slept with someone in months and even if he did it didn’t feel like this. It shouldn’t feel like this because he wants to see you as just a friend but clearly that’s never been the case and if he had deprived himself of feeling your pussy tighten around him, he might’ve gone insane. Your legs wrapped around his waist making him go deeper and you were moaning loudly now, “I’m gon—I’m gonna—oh my god.”

It washed over your writhing body like a wave, Jungkook felt it travel through your body and around his cock till he felt your creamy fluid coat his member. He quickly pulled out with a loud groan as he was unable to stop himself from cunning all over your stomach in thick spirits of semen that made his legs give out and his body pressed against yours. You hugged him closely as the two of you tried to come down, his lips on your neck soothing you down from the highs of climax, “Felt so good.”

“Mhm,” you moaned softly as you unwrapped your legs from around him and let them fall limply, “Fuck.”

Your hand slid between your bodies to touch the muddles of cum be covered you in and it made him pull back enough to see the mess, biting his lip as he attempted to apologize, “Sorry, I was gonna—didn’t have time to—yknow.”

You smiled as you moved to sit up more, “Better me than my couch.”

He let you stand up, moving off of you, “Are you good?”

His hand held yours keeping you from moving and he couldn’t help but look down at your body and the mess he made on your stomach. You nodded your head, “Yeah but I need to clean up, asap, it’s sticky.”

You said it jokingly and he laughed with you, both of you still relishing in what just happened. You released a sigh, “I need a shower, want to join me?”

He nodded, not wasting a second to ponder over it, “Let me help clean up and then I’ll go.”

You left with a nod of your head and Jungkook looked at the mess the two of you made in your living room, already seeing a small stain on the couch.

As he searched for his clothes, the doorbell caught him off guard drawing his attention to the door. Deciding to ignore it so he could join you in the shower, he picked up his things to leave when the doorbell chime turned into a fist against the door and that had him curious. He quickly slipped on his sweats already hearing the shower run and went to answer. It was probably just a delivery or a neighbor complaining about the noise. He didn’t bother with a shirt and his hair was a messy but he didn’t care as he opened the door expecting anyone but the person in front of him.

“Jungkook?”

“Taehyung?” Jungkook looked at the guy in front of him with confusion.

He watched him take a step back as if to make sure the address was right for you and looked back at him, “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I live next door,” Jungkook said dumbly as he attempted to ignore the fact that he was shirtless and sweaty and your ex boyfriend was noting that.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, “Wait, you’re the one who lives next do—why are you at Y/n’s then?”

Jungkook huffed in annoyance, “Taehyung, come on man… does it really matter? Why are you here?”

“Because I’m hereto talk to her about our relationship—“

That made Jungkook’s jaw clenched at Taehyung’s audacity, “What relationship? The two of you aren’t together.”

“Look, it doesn’t really concern you—why aren’t you wearing a shirt? What the fuck is going on here? Y/n?!” Taehyung tried getting through Jungkook to enter your apartment but he didn’t let him. Fuck no. He was not going to let Taehyung come in and ruin everything that has just happened between you. “Taehyung, don’t. You dumped Y/n just get out of here.”

Taehyung scoffed loudly, Oh, I fucking knew something was going on between you two at the party. You didn’t even hide it!”

“You have no idea what you’re even talking abou—“

“Why are you at my ex’s house?” Taehyung asked abruptly as he stood directly in front of Jungkook’s face, both equal in height.

Jungkook scoffed as he glared at his ex friend; “Taehyung, not everything is about you so get over yourself and just go already. Y/n does not want anything to do with you.”

That only seemed to piss Taehyung off more as he scoffed and said, “Oh I get it now, you slept Y/n… Is that what you’re doing here? To sleep with my ex?”

Jungkook was starting to get pissed, rightfully so in his opinion and he wants nothing more than to get this guy out, “I’m not saying it again, Taehyung, just go before Y/n gets out of the shower.”

Unbeknownst to either of them that you had already turned off the water early once you heard the banging on your front door and the muffled voices.

“So you did!?” Taehyung ignored his warning to accuse him further, “Was this your plan all along? You wanted to get back at me by fucking my ex? I didn’t realize you’re still not over what happened with Minsu. Come on Kook, that was years ago, did you really need to go this far? I still care about Y/n.”

That passed Jungkook off and he’s never been in a fight with anyone he considered a friend once before and right now he’s very close to doing it, “I’m not you! This has nothing to do with you or Minsu and stop lying. You don’t care about Y/n! You just found out her and I were close and suddenly you wanted to call dibs on her again? Jeez, you’re still the selfish asshole you’ve always been.”

“Fuck you, Jungkook. You’re just jealous, you’ve always been jealous. Yeah, I slept with the girl you liked but it wasn’t enough to stop being my friend!? Yes, I knew how much you liked her but it’s not my fault she got in my bed! How do you think Y/n is going to feel when she finds out you only slept with her to get back at me?” Taehyung as so cocky when he spoke and Jungkook was seriously beginning to lose his patience.

“That’s not tru—“

“What?”

The two men immediately looked behind Jungkook where you stood in a bathrobe that Taehyung recognized immediately at what had just happened between you and Jungkook.

“Y/n…” the both said and Taehyung took a step inside when Jungkook’s guard was down and a smile threatened to appear on his face when you looked at him.

“Taehyung, what did you just say?” You asked and Jungkook immediately felt his heart drop.

He took a cautious step toward you, wondering how much you heard, “Y/n don’t listen to him, he’s lying and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“It’s true, That's probably why the two of you got clo—“ Taehyung tried to say only for your sharp tone to snap them both silent with surprise.

“Get out.”

His brows scrunched together in confusion, “What? No, I’m here to talk about us.”

You just rolled your eyes, “Well I don’t want to talk to you Taehyung, so get out.”

“Y/n—“

“Taehyung! Get out, I don’t know what you were hoping for coming here but I want you to leave,” you said louder now and there was no denying the finality in your tone that had your ex backing down reluctantly. When he looked at Jungkook it was like the final straw to push him over the edge and he stormed back out leaving the two of you alone, silent.

Jungkook was trying to get closer to you but also unsure if it’s what you wanted as he said a soft, “Y/n…”

“You too, Jungkook, just go.”

He knew he should just do as you say but that kind of hurt his feelings considering just a few minutes again he made you cum with his cock and he gathered the strength to say, “No.”

You released a deep sigh, turning to sit on the couch still without a thorough shower, “Jungkook, I want to be alone so please just go.”

You just needed time to yourself to think. You had no plans of getting back with Taehyung and him coming over just surprised the fuck out of you. On top of that you just had sex with someone who’s your friend and who’s helped you get over the break up and although it seems like just a rebound, it didn’t feel that way.

Jungkook stood before you, “No, I’m not leaving because I’m not letting you think for even one second that what he said is true. I didn’t sleep with you to get back at him. I couldn’t care less about Taehyung and the only reason I even thought about that guy again was because of yo—“

“I know.”

Your soft tone surprised him and he found himself stuttering out, “… you do?”

You nodded your head, running a nervous hand over your hair, “I mean, I know you — I think — you’re not the type of guy to do that…”

His heart raced in relief as he moved to sit next to you, “I’m really not, Y/n. You know me, I like staying out of the drama and with him, that’s all you get. I wouldn’t have even bothered to acknowledge him if it weren’t for you.”

“Jungkook…”

He leaned forward so that you were forced to look at him as he said, “Y/n, listen to me, okay? I like you… I know we just… y’know, but It’s not because I wanted to get revenge. That’s petty. I’ve been hanging out with you all the time because I enjoy it. You’re a hot mess and crazy and loud and the complete opposite of what I thought you’d be but… but I’m cool with you, y’know? I put up with all your late night meltdowns and early morning hunger because I wanted to spend time with you—I literally jumped in the pool with you so we can be fools together—why are you laughing?”

It was hard to ignore the way you smiled and fought back a laugh as he talked and it confused the hell out of him that he had to ask. You just sighed, “Because you don’t have to explain yourself, Kook. I mean, you’re right, I’m a hot mess…”

He shook his head, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I kinda like it… it’s exciting and you have good intentions and you’re not vindictive and you don’t really care what others think of you and I want you to know that you’re literally always on my mind but I tried to tell myself I just wanted to be friends but… look, I don’t expect you to feel the same even after tonight but I just want you to see that I really do like you, all of you, there’s nothing I want to change.”

You were still smiling as you slouched back on the couch that he just fucked you on, “You know, you’ve gotta be the only person who’s ever said that to me. Do you really mean it?”

He scoffed with a laugh, “No shit, Y/n. You stress me out in the best way possible.”

“That’s because you know me like no other and you aren’t trying to change me, you’re seeing me for me. I’m crazy into you,” you confessed, surprising yourself and him.

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

He gulped in thought, “Y/n, if we can just look past whatever drama just happened and try, but I get it if you don’t want to—I mean, I get it, honestly, you just got out of a relationship and getting with me right away probably won’t look good to others and if you’re not ready I get it but—“

You sighed, “Who cares what other people say?”

You don’t, not anymore. It’s just exhausting to always be thinking about others and right now you rather focus on yourself and who makes you happy and right now that’s Jungkook even if you hadn’t admitted it before.

“Y/n…”

“Jungkook, I don’t know about y’know, dating yet but… but I really do like you and I don’t care what other people say anyway. Can we maybe take things slow?” You asked shyly as his hand fell over yours to hold it.

He nodded, eyes looking down at your lips and watching you bite down on them. He took a deep breath feeling you move closer and he had to move back, “Y/n… we can’t take things slow if you try to kiss me.”

You sat back in surprise, “Why’s that?”

He chuckled softly, “Because I won’t be able to stop.”

“It’s okay, we can just cuddle then—that is, of course, if you don’t put a pillow fort between us again,” you said to him as you leaned into his side.

“Listen, I was being considerate about the fact I had a drunk girl crawl into my bed looking too cute in my shirt,” Jungkook said honestly as he helped you snuggle against him.

“Ah, so you’ve always had a thing for me? You sure you didn’t plot this?” You teased.

Jungkook scoffed as he poked your side, “Shut up, I did not, I just… maybe a little?—I mean you try and involve yourself with someone as crazy and fun as you and try not to fall for them!”

“Gross,” you joked, “I didn’t realize you’ve been obsessed with me this whole time.”

“Oh shut up.”

::.

just lyk It’s highly unedited 💀💀💀I forced myself to finish it this morning but anyways idk I love a good idiots to lovers but maybe that’s just me. also imagine jk as your friend and neighbor?

and his ass really did jump in that pool with y/n so she would get mad at him and forget about Tae

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