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oddinary4bts · 5 months ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 8 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: peach, curses, luxury, impostor syndrome, alcohol, jungkook's family, they are so gone for each other my dude, explicit content: hickeys, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), exhibitionism (sort of but not really), protected sex, Jungkook is a teasing hoe, marking, ass slapping, praising, clit play

☆word count: 13.5k

☆a/n: NEW YOOOORK!!! My second favourite chapter of this series bc it's just so asjgsrjgsabfgo but I'll let you guys be the judge of that haha enjoy reading <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 8th

The sun is high in the sky, the snow melting on the side of the road, and Jungkook’s car is eating the miles towards New York, the music you’ve been listening to since you’ve left loud yet enjoyable.

Or maybe what’s truly enjoyable is the smile on Jungkook’s face whenever you meet his gaze while you’re bolting a duet, singing over the music.

Scratch that, you’ve been enjoying yourself because you’re with Jungkook. It doesn’t matter what you’d be doing - as long as it’s with Jungkook, you know you’d have fun. Even as his car slows down almost to a halt as you near the city and face its traffic, it doesn’t deter you.

No, Jungkook’s wide grin and his hand on your thigh keeps your mind far too occupied to be able to produce anything other than serotonin, and you think you deserve it. Especially after the uncertainty of the last few weeks, you deserve this moment with Jungkook.

This moment, away from reminders of Taehyung and of how you know this relationship is bound to explode in your face one day.

You shove that thought away as Jungkook’s giggle fills the car, and you glance at him, smiling brightly.

“You’re not really going to put some Taylor Swift on,” Jungkook complains, yet it’s at odds with the amused light in his eyes.

“I sure am,” you reply, and the song Welcome to New York starts playing.

You know it by heart, and Jungkook watches you in awe as you sing. If you weren’t rational, you’d assume he’s looking at you with heart-shaped eyes, but you know better than that.

You’re just his fake girlfriend for the weekend. Nothing more.

Nothing more than the fact that you will meet his entire family, including his extended family, tomorrow. He doesn’t seem like he cares, and you’ve been trying to pretend that you don’t care either, but it is making you feel anxious.

You’ve never had a boyfriend that you’ve met the family of before. Or actually, you’ve never had a boyfriend whatsoever.

Jungkook knows his way in the city. You’re not surprised - he grew up here, and he told you he usually spends his summers back home as well to work and make enough money for the year. What you’re surprised about is that the streets down which he starts driving once you’re passed the traffic and into the city proper look expensive, exuding wealth that you could only ever wish to know.

It only increases when he parks his car in the underground parking garage of a huge skyscraper which apparently holds condos and the like.

At least that’s what he says.

“Leave your bag in the car,” Jungkook tells you as you’re about to fetch your duffel bag from the backseat.

You cock an eyebrow in question. “Aren’t we here?”

He smiles mischievously, eyes shining in the white neon light of the underground garage. “I’m taking you shopping.”

“Why?” you burst out, looking down at yourself. “Are my clothes not good enough?”

He walks around the car, pulling you away from the car door by the hand before he shuts it behind you, leaning against it.

“Trust me, peach, your clothes are perfect for me,” he says. “But I much prefer you without the clothes on.”

He winks, and you punch him in the shoulder, cheeks flaming.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble.

“You like it.”

“I don’t.”

He smiles as you fake-glare at him, until you both start laughing. He extends a hand for you to take, and you let him engulf your small hand with his large one as he pulls you towards the elevator.

“Seriously though, I’ll get you a nice dress for tomorrow night,” Jungkook says as you reach the elevator, and he presses the call button. “Not that I don’t trust what you’ve brought,” he quickly adds before you could say anything. “More as a thank you for doing this for me.”

You narrow your eyes at him, yet you nod your head. Because who would say no to free clothes?

Certainly not you.

Jungkook pulls you behind him in the elevator when the doors slide open, and then presses on the ground floor. Once you get off, he’s quick to guide you down a hallway that looks straight out of a fancy hotel - marble floors reflecting the light of the sconces on the walls, abstract paintings at regular intervals on the wall to the left, over dark oak tables with white flowers in crystal vases.

The hallway even smells expensive, and you throw a curious glance to Jungkook.

“Where are we?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

He glances at you over his shoulder, winking at you. “Home.”

“This is what you call home?” you ask, thinking about the small apartment you grew up in on the poor side of the city you hail from.

He shrugs. “I feel more at home back in college, but yeah, I grew up here.”

“Jungkook,” you say, tugging on his hand to stop him, but he’s determined, his steps unfaltering.

You grumble under your breath, yet you follow him out into the early evening setting sun, the doors of the building golden. You don’t ask the questions that are burning in your mind - what do his parents do for a living? Why didn’t he mention he was rich?

Why does he live in that small, old apartment with you and Taehyung if he can afford so much more?

The questions spin in your head like they are a tornado of thoughts, and they only increase in speed as he pulls you to an Yves Saint Laurent store, pushing the door open as if he owns the place.

Could he…?

“Jeon Jungkook!” a middle-aged lady greets him, her face lighting up as you come into view. “We haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hey, Mrs Smith,” Jungkook answers. “Meet my girlfriend.”

He tugs on your hand, forcing you to step out from behind him, and you blush as the lady appears. She’s tall, though you believe it might be because she’s wearing stilettos, and her skirt and blazer combo makes her look like a businesswoman.

The nametag on the blazer is a clear indication that she isn’t, though. No, she visibly works here.

“Hello,” you awkwardly say, not knowing what else to say as she looks you up and down.

“Are you here for a new wardrobe?” she asks, the question directed towards Jungkook as if what you’re wearing is the ugliest outfit anyone has ever come up with before.

You try to not take offense, yet you find yourself momentarily clenching your jaw as Jungkook replies, “No, just for a dress for Junghyun’s engagement party.”

Mrs Smith nods, and she motions towards what looks like a small scene in front of multiple mirrors. It’s the kind of thing you’ve seen before in period pieces, where the seamstresses take the ladies’ measurement. So you’re not entirely surprised when Mrs Smith pulls out a measuring tape from a hidden pocket in her blazer, and you let her do her work, your eyes on Jungkook as he watches with an amused smile on his lips.

“You could have warned me,” you say, and Mrs Smith looks up towards you, the frown on her features convincing you to shut up until she’s done.

Jungkook only laughs, saying, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

He does. He certainly does, and though it’s pissing you off, there’s something endearing about the way he’s watching from that couch, the small smile on his lips softening his features.

You fall silent as Mrs Smith keeps working, and soon she’s sauntering off, the sound of her stilettos click-clacking slowly fading. You immediately climb off from the little scene, storming towards Jungkook.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were rich?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Does it change anything?”

“It doesn’t.” You look around, not quite believing that you’re standing in a designer store. “But then it does.”

He pouts, the expression so adorable you feel like leaning in and kissing him. It’s startling, and before you can do anything, Mrs Smith comes back with a light blue dress she wants you to try on. You follow the lady to the dressing room, and Jungkook offers you a wink as you glance at him over your shoulder.

Mrs Smith leads you into the room, and it’s way too large for just a dressing room. She leaves the dress on a hook against a wall, in front of a tall standing mirror, and you thank her as she gets out, gently shutting the door behind her.

Which leaves you alone with your thoughts, and with the fact that Jungkook wants to buy you a designer dress.

You take a look at the dress. It’s beautiful, the colour eerily similar to that of a summer sky, yet maybe somewhat a little paler. You step towards it, searching for a tag, but you can’t find any. The softness of the fabric is a clear indication that it is probably worth more than everything you own combined together, and you anxiously take off your clothes to put it on.

One look in the mirror makes you feel like a princess. Like you’re the one someone might write a story about, or sing a song to. Even though your hair is a mess and you’re not wearing any makeup, you feel more beautiful than you’ve ever felt before.

The dress hugs your curves perfectly, enhancing them in all the right places. It looks like it was tailor-made for you, and for a moment you believe you’re in love.

You really do think you’re in love when you shyly step out of the dressing room for Mrs Smith to finish zipping the dress up, and Jungkook looks up from his phone to look at you.

The smirk on his lips slowly dies down, and his gaze doesn’t move from you as you step closer. You don’t think he’s blinking, or even breathing, and you truly feel like the most beautiful woman in the world right now.

“Do you like the dress?” a female voice to your left says, but you can’t look away from Jungkook.

You’re entranced, and it seems that he is too. Like you’re the center of the universe, or maybe that’s him - it’s hard to tell.

“We’ll take it,” Jungkook says after a moment, and he gets up.

Towering over you, he tilts your head back with a finger on your chin, and you gulp as your gazes connect.

“On the family tab?” Mrs Smith asks.

“Yes.”

“How much is the dress?” you can’t help but query, turning your head towards Mrs Smith.

She regards you with an eyebrow cocked, before glancing at Jungkook. “10,350 dollars, miss.”

Your mouth falls open as she walks away, and you immediately look back towards Jungkook.

“No,” is all that you say.

He flicks your nose. “Don’t cause a scene, peach.”

“I’m not causing a scene,” you say through gritted teeth. “This dress is worth more than a year of my share of the rent.”

“And? Your point?”

You roll your eyes, folding your arms on your chest. “I’m not letting you buy this.”

“Well too bad for you, it’s already paid for.”

He winks at you again, and then plops back down on the couch, his smirk widening into a grin that makes butterflies come to life in your stomach.

It’s a feeling you don’t like, so you turn your back on him, heading back to the dressing room. With new respect for the dress, you slowly take it off, treating it reverently. Once it’s safely back on the hanger, you put your clothes back on, hands shaking a little at the enormity of what Jungkook just did.

Though, to him, it doesn’t seem like it was a lot. Indeed, when you get out of the dressing room, leaving the dress behind because you don’t dare touch it again, Jungkook springs up from the couch, offering you his hand.

And even though you feel like maybe you don’t really know anything about him, you take his hand. His fingers close around yours, gently, and he offers you a smile that makes you warm like spring days, when the world is coming back to life.

And as you walk behind him, you think maybe, maybe this weekend is a great opportunity to get to know him better. To get to know the man that hides behind the cocky behaviour, the one you’ve seen on multiple occasions already.

Though it should scare you, the thought only makes you hold onto Jungkook’s fingers a little tighter. He reciprocates, and it’s with a heart beating wildly that he waits with you for Mrs Smith to bring the dress over, safely hidden in a dress bag. Jungkook takes it for you, and then he pulls you behind him.

You’re soon swallowed by the New York city bustling crowd, though Jungkook is a lighthouse in the storm and you feel safe.

You feel safe with him, and that, more than anything, scares you.

*****

“You’re shitting me,” is all you say when Jungkook leads you into his room, once you’re back at the condominium in which he grew up.

You’d gathered enough information to know that he was rich. But you didn’t think he was rich rich - the condo he grew up in is on the two highest levels of the skyscraper, with an unparalleled view of Central Park that’s making you feel like you’re a bird soaring in the sky.

Jungkook laughs behind you as he shuts the door, dropping your duffel bag and his next to it. You’ve been carrying the dress up, treating it like the treasure that it is, and Jungkook gently takes it from your hand as he walks away, disappearing in what you can only assume is his walk-in wardrobe.

He pops back out a few seconds later, minus the dress bag, and he offers you a smile that’s even more blinding than the city view. “No, I’m not,” he says.

You chuckle, cheeks burning for a reason you don’t quite understand, and then you scan his room. It’s cold, empty, void of the quality that makes his room back at the apartment feel like his. This room is impersonal, the kind of room you’d see in interior design magazines, with the black bed covers and equally as dark walls. Light comes from behind the bed frame, yet the true beauty of the room is that of the city, and you take it in as you step closer to the floor-to-ceiling window that is the wall at the foot of the bed.

“I can’t believe it,” you murmur. “This is so beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

You slowly nod, glancing towards Jungkook. “I can’t believe you chose to live in that shitty apartment with Tae when this is what you were accustomed to.”

He shrugs, not answering anything, as he instead heads to where he left the duffel bags so that he can carry them into the walk-in. You follow him then, curious to see what the rest of his bedroom looks like.

The walk-in is empty, save for a corner that holds a couple of suits you imagine to be from different designer brands. You notice a few dress shirts over there too, but your gaze focuses on the PC setup that’s in between two walls of shelves.

Finally, something that feels like Jungkook.

You walk towards it, rolling the chair back so that you can sit in it. Jungkook drops your duffel bag on the shelf behind you, and you turn your chair so that you can face him.

“You want to play?” he asks.

“What games do you have?”

He leans towards you, and you catch a whiff of his cologne as he turns the PC on.

“Honestly I don’t remember what’s downloaded on the PC,” he truthfully replies. “Just check out my Steam account.”

And then he’s walking towards the other side of the walk-in, heading towards what you can only assume is the bathroom. You spring up from the chair, and it rolls behind you from the sudden motion as you jog to the bathroom.

You’re not surprised to see just how expensive the bathroom looks. Black tiles cover the floor, and they climb the walls of the walk-in shower next to which a wide-standing cabinet with glass doors is. A proper look at the shower shows that it’s one with multiple shower heads, and you already know the shower you’ll take later will be heavenly, clearly the best you’ll ever take in your life. Jungkook leans on the counter, folding his arm on his chest as he watches you taking everything in, your gaze wide from awe.

“You don’t even have a bath,” you comment, and Jungkook bursts out laughing.

“I never needed one. But if you want to take a bath, there’s one in the bigger bathroom on this level.”

“Isn’t it connected to like… your parents’ room or something?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Yeah, but my parents haven’t stayed here since I was five,” he reveals. “They prefer staying at hotels.”

You furrow your brow. “They have such a nice condo and they don’t even enjoy it?”

Another shrug of Jungkook tells you that he, too, doesn’t understand his parents.

“If you want, I can give you a tour of the whole place,” Jungkook suggests after a beat of silence.

Your eyes light up, and you nod forcefully. “Yes. Please, I’d love to.”

He laughs at your enthusiasm, before motioning towards the toilet. “I do have to go to the bathroom first, if you’ll excuse me.”

Cheeks burning, you mumble an apology that makes him laugh as you step out of the bathroom, and he gently closes the door behind you. Embarrassed, you make your way back to the gaming setup, and you watch the landscape picture of the welcome screen. Pressing on enter reveals that Jungkook doesn’t have a password for the computer, and a moment later his Steam library appears in front of your eyes.

Obviously he’s got every game you can imagine, and you don’t have time to go through the whole library before he’s out, ready to give you the tour. And the rest of the condo is just as impressive as Jungkook’s bedroom is, though the whole thing feels… empty. Void of life. Which, you assume it is considering his parents don’t live here most of the time, and his brother owns a city house with his fiancée.

Your favourite part ends up being the kitchen, even though you don’t cook. But who wouldn’t like the beauty of the marble counters, of the white cupboards and of the impressive glass chandelier that hangs over the long dinner table?

You end up sitting on a stool at the island, watching Jungkook as he moves through the kitchen. He finds instant noodles in the pantry, and he comes out of it with a wide grin on his lips.

“Found dinner,” he says.

You laugh. “You’ve got such a nice kitchen and all you’ll cook are some instant noodles?”

He narrows his gaze at you. “You have a problem against instant noodles?”

You snort, shrugging your shoulders. “No.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but he drops it, focusing on making food for the two of you. It takes a few minutes, but he’s soon sitting next to you, two bowls of noodles wafting steam in front of you. It smells good, if not a bit spicy, and you grab the chopsticks he put out for you.

“Thanks for the food,” you tell him, flashing a grin to him that makes his features soften in a far too dangerous way for you.

So you look away, cheeks dusting in pink, and you start eating. Though the noodles are indeed spicy, you endure the burn, finding that you actually enjoy it a little bit. Maybe because it’s distracting you from the thought that you’re with your brother’s best friend - you ought to stop thinking about it anyway.

Here, Jungkook isn’t Taehyung’s best friend. Here, he’s just Jungkook, and you’re just you.

Saturday March 9th

You feel like an impostor.

The venue for the engagement party is luxurious, nestled on the top floors of one of the many skyscrapers of Manhattan. The people in attendance are all dressed to the nines, as if trying to impress.

Or you’re just impressed because you’ve never seen so many designer clothes in such a place before.

The floor is made of shiny marble, the ceiling high. A huge, glass chandelier hangs from it, and multiple columns are decorated with shiny golden garlands. In one corner, in front of tall windows overlooking New York City, a photobooth is set up, but you’ve remained clear of it so far.

You and Jungkook are both aware that you can’t risk having pictures of you taken. Not when they could easily be found by Taehyung, or by other people from back at college.

Like Ria, who questioned you for hours when you said you were going to spend the weekend in New York…

You know you’ll be grilled when you get home, but you push that thought aside, much like you’ve been putting all thoughts of your regular life aside. Jungkook has been making it easy - his smile and laughter, ever so constant yesterday evening, has been grounding, and though he does seem anxious right now, he’s remained by your side, making sure to put you at ease.

You haven’t met his parents or brother yet, but he’s introduced to some cousins that approached you, some of them surprisingly only speaking Korean. Jungkook bridged the gap between you and them, translating when needed, and they have now moved to the refreshment table, adorned with a pyramid of champagne glasses you’ve imagined toppling over at least fifteen times since you’ve arrived.

You really do feel like an impostor at the sight of all the easy luxury. Of the Louboutin high heels, the Louis Vuitton purses, the expensive suits and dresses everyone is wearing. The vast room smells rich, and it truly isn’t your crowd.

“Smile, peach,” Jungkook says, nudging you with his elbow.

Your gaze slides to him, and as it’s been doing since you finished getting ready earlier, your breath catches in your throat. There’s just something about the pale pants and the light blue dress shirt he’s wearing that makes him seem even more attractive than you’ve always found him. Maybe it’s the way the fabric stretches on his chest, revealing his hard-earned muscles. Or maybe it’s the vulnerability in his gaze.

He doesn’t seem more comfortable than you in this crowd.

“You smile,” you throw back at him, and he immediately does, a low laugh shaking through him.

“Do you want something to drink?”

You look down at yourself, wincing. “I’m afraid I’ll ruin the dress.”

“So you’re just going to stand still the whole evening because you’re afraid to ruin your clothes?” he teases.

You clench your jaw, rolling your eyes. “Precisely.”

“Loosen up, peach,” Jungkook insists, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think maybe he needs you to.

Maybe he truly does need your support at this fancy party. So you find yourself accepting to get drinks, and you’re almost done with the first glass when Jungkook tenses next to you, freezing like a deer in headlights.

His doe eyes are on the doors, and you look in the direction to see an older woman and man walking in, the woman’s hand on her husband’s arm. You see a little bit of Jungkook in them - the woman’s eyes are Jungkook’s, and the man has the same nose and lips - so you immediately know that they are Jungkook’s parents.

The woman scans the room, and her eyes stop on you. In the distance it’s hard to tell if she looks happy to see her son - she barely even reacts, though she tugs her husband in your direction. You glance to Jungkook, but he really does seem frozen.

“Are you okay?” you ask, resting a hand on his arm.

He startles, toying with his piercings with his tongue before nodding curtly. “All good.”

You look towards his parents, and they’ve already crossed half of the room.

“Is that…” you trail off, knowing how rhetorical the question is.

“Yep.”

“What should I do?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

His eyes snap to you, and they’re void of the warmth you usually recognize in them. They’re like chips of ice - empty, cold, and something aches in your chest.

“Just be yourself.”

You offer him a small smile. His gaze is quick to drop to it, and you see the moment it warms. You see the moment he realizes he’s not alone, not right now, even though this is all but a subterfuge.

You’re not his girlfriend, but you’ll sure as hell try to be the best friend you can be for him right now.

“Jungkook,” his mother says as she stops in front of you, and your gaze slides to her.

She looks regal, standing ramrod straight with a steely look on her face. She spares you a quick glance, cocking an eyebrow before resuming her attention on Jungkook.

“Mother,” Jungkook replies in the same cold, formal tone.

“Glad to see you came around and decided to come.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “I wanted to introduce Y/n to the family.”

Heart beating out of your chest, you look up to Jungkook, observing the firm set of his jaw. He seems determined, like a man going into battle, and you wonder if that is what it is.

If Jungkook brought you here to rile his family up.

His mother finally truly takes you in, her eyes skimming over you. “I don’t think we know each other,” she says, and there is so much contempt in her voice you furrow your brow.

“I don’t think so,” you answer, trying to sound as polite as you possibly can. You bow your head, meeting her gaze when you straighten. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jungkook’s father pats his wife’s hand. She lets him go, almost reluctantly, and he walks away, heading to a group of men that seem far too happy to see him.

You wonder if you should take offence to him walking away when you just tried to introduce yourself, though the way Jungkook is staring at his mother lets you know that the true opponent of this battle is the woman in front of you, and not the man that just left.

“Likewise,” she replies, and this time she doesn’t hide the contempt from her voice at all. It drips to her features, and she scrunches up her nose in disgust, looking down at the high heels you’re wearing.

A simple pair of high heels you’ve bought for your high school prom, that you’ve been reusing whenever you have the occasion.

“Nice shoes,” Jungkook’s mother says, and you can tell that she means it as an insult.

You clench your jaw, cocking an eyebrow as you get ready to reply, but Jungkook intervenes with a stern, “Mother.”

“You thought dressing her up in a nice dress would make us forget that she’s not from our class?”

The insult is stark, and you widen your gaze as your heart rate spikes, your blood heating up in your veins.

“Excuse me?” you let out, unable to resist.

Jungkook’s mother meets your gaze. “At least she’s got a tongue on her.”

“And I’ll ask you to make a fucking effort for once,” Jungkook spits.

She frowns. “Do not curse, boy. It doesn’t suit you.”

He laughs, a short, dry sound that makes the hair dress on your arms. She clenches her jaw, a muscle feathering under the skin, and you wonder where Jungkook learned to be warm. Where he learned to smile like he’s lighter than a feather, like he’s never known any atrocities. Because standing here, you realize just how cold his upbringing must have been like.

And it’s strange. The little boy in the picture on his bedside table was all smiles, eyes crinkling with joy. You’d assumed the picture had been taken by his parents, but now that you’ve met his mother, you highly doubt she’s ever been the source of a smile on Jungkook’s lips.

While you’ve been thinking, Jungkook and his mother were stuck in a staring contest, a battle of will that Jungkook wins. Indeed, his mother sighs deeply and then turns towards you again.

“Where do you come from?” she asks.

You gulp under the scrutiny of her gaze, yet give her the answer.

“What do your parents do for a living?”

You tense, for that is an answer that even Jungkook doesn’t know.

“My mother is a nurse,” you reply. You feel Jungkook’s curious gaze on your profile, but you resist glancing at him. “And I do not know my father.”

Jungkook’s mother blinks once, and then she focuses on her son. “Junghyun will be happy you came.”

She leaves without saying another word, and you’re left staring at her retreating form, wondering if it’s just you or if she’s the rudest person you’ve ever met.

“I apologize for this,” Jungkook says, and his arm drops from your shoulder.

You immediately miss it.

“I think I’m starting to get why you wanted me to come with you,” you say, and you finally meet his gaze.

He’s slightly pouting, lips barely jutting out, yet there’s something endearing about the expression on his features. “I honestly didn’t think she would be flat-out rude like that.” He downs what’s left of the champagne in his flute and then puts it down on the tray of a server as she walks past. “I promise we can go home as soon as Junghyun shows up and sees that I came.”

“We can stay longer too,” you reassure him. “I can handle the aristocracy.”

The frown on his features melts, and he lets out a small laugh. “The aristocracy?”

You nod. “Yeah. Because obviously we aren’t from the same class.”

“Fuck, peach,” he grumbles, shaking his head, yet there’s an amused sparkle in his gaze that makes you feel warm all of a sudden.

It’s like you forget all about his mother, and about his avoidant father. It soon becomes clear that he is avoiding Jungkook, not you, and you feel bad for the man beside you.

He deserves a family that treats him better than the one he has, or so you believe. And it’s not like you know them at all - the dynamic is just off, and it’s unlike what you’ve personally known growing up.

If you forget about the fact that you don’t have a father and that your mother worked so much while you were growing up that you barely saw her.

Junghyun and his fiancée show up an hour later, fashionably late. You and Jungkook have been drinking more, and you feel buzzed from the alcohol, warmth swimming through your body. It’s only amplified every time you meet Jungkook’s gaze, every time he tugs you a little closer, and you think you’ll be drunk by the end of the evening, just because of him.

He’s inebriating after all.

Junghyun notices his brother across the space, and unlike his parents, his face breaks into a large grin, one that resembles that of Jungkook, and he immediately makes his way towards you. He’s much more relaxed than his parents, with an easy going vibe to him, and the way Jungkook relaxes makes you think that Junghyun, contrary to his parents, is not an asshole.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Junghyun says as he stops in front of you, immediately pulling Jungkook into a tight embrace.

Jungkook beams under the attention of his older brother. “I thought it’d be a good surprise.”

“It sure is,” Junghyun agrees as he pulls away. His eyes slide to you, and you offer him a tentative smile that he easily reciprocates. “And you are?”

“My girlfriend,” Jungkook says before you have time to say your name. “From college.”

Junghyun nods, meeting your gaze again. “Nice to meet you.”

You echo the sentiment as his fiancée - Nara - stops next to Junghyun, politely greeting Jungkook.

You end up speaking with the pair for a little while. They both are a lot more welcoming than Jungkook’s parents, and Jungkook seems to be vibrating with happiness by the time they have to move away, needing to greet the other guests in the room. Meanwhile the sun has set outside, and you take a moment to admire the view as Jungkook goes to grab a refill for you both.

“I must admit he has a lot of nerves to bring you here,” a voice says next to you, and you turn to notice his mother, her arms folded on her chest.

Though your heart skips a painful, anxious beat in your chest, you only face the world outside again. “And why is that?”

She scoffs. “He’s technically engaged to someone.”

The world stops turning, and you glance at his mother. She sports a small, wicked smile, like she knows Jungkook didn’t tell you.

“What do you mean?” you can’t help but ask, your hands turning clammy.

She shrugs. “His father and I have discussed it with another family. We’ve deemed it better if they marry.”

“Does he even know her?” you spit.

She chuckles condescendingly. “Look at you. You really think you fit in our world? Your mother clearly hasn’t raised you for it.”

You fully face Jungkook’s mother, nails digging in your palms as you clench your fists. “I’ll have you know that my mother raised me well, and raised me to know privilege where it is. Just because you happened to be born rich doesn’t make you any better.”

Her gaze widens, and you see Jungkook walking back towards you, two glasses of champagne in hands. He notices his mother, a muscle feathering under the skin of his jaw, and you don’t care to stay next to her before you start heading his way.

You meet in the middle of the room, and you wonder if your vision has grown blurry. You only understand your eyes have filled with tears when Jungkook curses under his breath, glaring at his mother over your head.

“What did she tell you?” he asks, voice gentle.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you lie, blinking the tears away.

But she didn’t tell you nothing, did she?

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes. “She’s…”

“It’s whatever,” you insist, interrupting him. “I just want to spend time with you.”

You just want to spend time with him because you’ve learned he’s technically engaged, if his mother wasn’t lying.

Does he even know it?

You successfully blink your tears away as Jungkook hands you a champagne glass, which you down in one long gulp.

“I’m flattered, peach,” he teases.

The champagne bubbles down your throat, and you swallow with a scrunch of your nose. When you’ve finished the glass, you hand it back to Jungkook, who takes it with one eyebrow cocked. He looks like he wants to say something, but then his brother starts to speak with a mic. The room ushers to silence, forcing everyone to listen to the speech. Jungkook’s frowning, eyes still on you, but after a few seconds he turns to look at his brother.

You wish you’d be able to listen to the speech, to focus on it, but all you can do is keep on blinking back the tears from snapping at Jungkook’s mother.

Here’s to making bad first impressions.

And it’s not like it truly matters - you’re not even Jungkook’s real girlfriend. You’re just a friend, someone he brought along as a shield from his family.

Or so you’re starting to realize. You can’t even blame him. If your mother was remotely similar to his, you’d always make sure to go home with someone to support you.

The least you can do is be that for Jungkook.

When Junghyun finishes his speech, his fiancée moves closer to him, and they share a sweet embrace that looks a little too practiced for it to be genuine. Or it might just be you - if it had been you in their position, you’re pretty sure you would have wanted to kiss your fiancé stupid. But then again, you reckon it might be improper in this social class.

Jungkook’s mother might have a point - you really weren’t raised to know how to act around rich people.

Except Jungkook, that is, but that’s because you didn’t know he was rich before yesterday, and you doubt he cares anyway.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asks as servers start walking around with different appetizers, all of them looking far fancier than anything you’ve eaten in your life.

“Huh,” you let out as one of the servers stops next to you. “What’s this?”

“Crab cakes,” the server answers, flashing you a quick, polite smile.

You glance at Jungkook. “I’m allergic to seafood.”

He snorts, and then wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Let’s go find something that doesn’t have seafood in it.”

You end up finding small vegetarian burgers, and though they are barely bite-size, you enjoy a couple of them despite their dryness. It’s not enough to satiate your hunger, and especially not enough for Jungkook, so when he suggests going out to a restaurant nearby, you jump on the occasion to say yes.

“Then wait for me here,” Jungkook indicates, and to your surprise he kisses your forehead before slipping away, heading towards where you can see his brother and father conversing. While he speaks to them, probably explaining that you’re going to go eat somewhere else, you admire the view again. Cars zoom down in the streets below, each and every one of them carrying a different person with their own little life.

You feel small so high over the city. It’s sobering, and you feel like your mind is clearing from the buzz of the alcohol, from the remnants of the guilt you had for snapping at Jungkook’s mother.

You glance over your shoulder, eyeing Jungkook as he stands as if frozen, his brother speaking in his ear. Junghyun slides his gaze to you, and you offer him a tentative smile that the man ignores. You’d even think that his eyes harden, but it’s hard to tell in the distance. Especially as he pulls away from Jungkook, claps his shoulder once and then walks away, his father in tow.

Jungkook doesn’t move for a few seconds, and you wonder what it is that Junghyun said. Because the moment Jungkook turns and you see the look on his face, you know it must have been something harsh.

Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. It’s so vulnerable, so different from his usual cocky persona that you immediately make your way towards him.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

Jungkook just blinks looking at you, his eyes shining from unshed tears. You grab his hand, squeezing once, forgetting all about his mother being an asshole to you. No, all there is right now is Jungkook, and you want to make sure he finishes this evening with a smile on his face.

He deserves it after all.

“Hey, so where’s that restaurant you mentioned?” you query, switching tactics.

Jungkook keeps looking at you for a few seconds, but he soon blinks a couple of times more, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He pulls you behind him in the crowd, and you don’t know what look he has on his face, but people literally jump out of the way. He’s walking quickly, and you struggle to follow him, but you know he needs to leave.

You’ve seen the sorrow in his gaze, and you don’t blame him for wanting to get away. Indeed, you just want to flee in the night too, and you’re thankful the moment the elevator doors slide to a close after you’ve retrieved your coats, and you’re finally left in a quiet silence of just you and him.

Jungkook looks at you, gaze heavy, and a second later he’s on you, hands cupping your cheeks as he backs you into the wall. You startle, yet you’re quick to melt in his touch, to kiss him back with the same intensity he offers you.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, and you let him in, moaning softly as he drives his knee between your legs.

You didn’t expect him to kiss you. Especially not when nothing happened last night, some sort of awkwardness lingering in the air from being in his childhood room. But he kisses you languidly, all tongue and lips, his piercings pressing indents in your lower lip, and warmth pools at your core as the elevator goes down and down.

Anyone could walk in and catch you kissing, yet it doesn’t deter Jungkook, and neither does it deter you. Indeed, it only spurs you more, and your hands drop to his waist so that you can pull him closer.

The moment ends when the door slides open to reveal the ground floor, and Jungkook steps away from you, eyes dark with lust and shadows you don’t want to interpret. He smooths his shirt, offers you a tight-lipped smile that makes your heart clench in your chest, and then he’s walking out.

You’re quick to follow him, cheeks burning as someone at the reception eyes the two of you. You ignore them, hoping they can’t see how your lips are swollen from the kiss, and you all but have to jog to catch up with Jungkook by the time he reaches the doors.

He holds it open for you, yet you can’t meet his gaze as you step outside. Not when the engagement party was such a shitshow, not after he kissed you like that only to leave without saying anything.

The bustle of the New York City life engulfs you as you step out on the street, Jungkook in tow. To your surprise, his large hands close around yours, and you glance up to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry about…” he trails off, motioning over his shoulder.

You purse your lips. “About kissing me?”

The shadows partially lift in his gaze, warmth replacing them. “I’m not sorry about that at all,” he teases. “But I meant, about my family.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, squeezing his hand. “I’m happy I could be there with you.”

He remains silent for a few seconds of you holding each other’s gaze on the sidewalk, and then he cracks a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach his eyes. “What would I do without you, mmh?”

You laugh, and it sounds truer than it feels. “What would you do indeed?” you tease.

He chuckles, pulling you closer so that he can hug you. You wonder who needs it the most - him, or you? Because the second his arms wrap around you, you snake yours around his waist, hiding your face in his chest. He smells good - like Dior Sauvage, you think - and for a moment you just want to stay right here, in his arms.

Until his stomach grumbles, a low rumble against your cheek that makes you burst out laughing.

“Someone’s hungry,” you tease, looking up at him.

He meets your gaze, nodding once. “Peach, I’m fucking starving.”

That makes you laugh even more, lifting the heaviness of the atmosphere somehow, and it’s with a smile tickling your lips that you make your way to the restaurant - a kebab place on the first floor of another skyscraper. You eat your fill, laughing around with Jungkook, doing your best to keep the shadows out of his gaze.

But they never fully lift, and you’re not close enough to him to ask what his brother told him that upset him so much.

Mostly, you’re not close enough to ask him if he’s truly supposed to marry someone, or if his mother just said that to scare you off. It’s like walking a tightrope, and you’re one wrong move from falling to your death.

Yesterday, you would have said that Jungkook would catch you but today, the haunted look that creeps up on his gaze once in a while makes you think that perhaps he wouldn’t catch you at all. And though it saddens you, you don’t say anything.

You’ll have a better occasion later.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as Jungkook loosely holds your hand after the restaurant, while you walk around aimlessly. He’s telling you stories about growing up, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he occasionally falls eerily silent, you’d think that he’s happy right now. He looks the part, beaming at you whenever your gazes connect, and it’s too easy to reciprocate.

You think it’s a good thing - you’re comfortable with Jungkook, even if the whole engagement party was weird. It only gets better when you near a club, and Jungkook stops with a mischievous look in his eyes that finally looks a lot more like the Jungkook that you know from college.

“Do you want to go clubbing?” he says.

You snort. “It’s not even nine pm.”

“And?” he presses.

“You want to go clubbing this early?”

He shrugs, grabbing your hand again to pull you towards the doorman. “We can sit and chat before the party starts.”

As a matter of fact, the party is already started inside the club. Indeed, it’s like you step in an alternate universe the moment you walk in, the crowd thick as they sway to the beat. You only understand that it’s a concert of some famous DJ when you’re stopped at the coat check because you don’t have any tickets.

To your luck, the girl informs you that there are a few tickets left, and you insist on paying since Jungkook bought you the overpriced dress you’re wearing.

The one you’ll likely ruin while partying.

The thought sobers you a little, up until Jungkook, buzzing with excitement, pulls you towards the bar after you’ve left your coats at the coat check.

“This is going to be fun,” he says over the loud music.

You nod, though your mind is lingering somewhere back at the engagement party. “Are you okay?” you can’t help but ask.

Jungkook falls serious, clenching his jaw once. “It’s about my family, isn’t it?”

“Yes and no,” you say, worrying at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Tonight has been… weird.”

It’s unfortunately your turn to order, as the barman stops in front of you, and Jungkook quickly orders two gin and tonic for you both before resuming his attention on you.

“I know,” he agrees. “Family events are always weird around here.” He winces, shrugging his shoulders. “And if you want to speak about it, we can tomorrow. But right now I really just want to have a nice evening with you.”

He looks hopeful, lips jutting out in the trace of a pout, and his doe eyes hold so much softness you find yourself folding immediately.

He’s right - you want to have a nice evening with him too, and forget the shitshow that the engagement party was.

“Well then,” you say, offering him a corner smile that hints at mischief. “I hope you’re ready to party.”

He brightens, like the stars shining when there’s no light pollution. “Damn right, peach.”

The barman puts your drinks on the bar, and Jungkook hands you your glass. You grab the lime on the rim of the glass, squeezing it in the drink properly before dropping it amongst the ice cubes. Jungkook watches you, mirroring you after a few seconds.

“To partying,” you say, raising your glass.

Jungkook echoes, clinking his glass with yours and you both drink, the alcohol fresh and cold on your tongue.

You linger by the bar long enough to finish your first drinks, talking about everything and nothing. By the time you’re taking your last sip, Jungkook is reminiscing about a party last semester, where Taehyung had tried hitting on a girl only to get rejected.

“He complained about it for weeks,” you remember. “Even though he was sleeping with…” You frown, unable to remember the girl’s name. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Jungkook laughs. “Tae fucks around too much to remember everyone, I know.”

“As if you’re any better,” you tease, pushing him playfully.

He pouts, eyebrows bunching together as his doe eyes narrow. “I’m better now.”

“Are you?”

He moves closer to you, and your heart trips on itself in your chest as he rests his large hand on your waist, pulling you closer. “I definitely am.”

You don’t know who makes the move first. You just know that a second later, you’re cupping Jungkook’s cheeks, and his lips are on yours again. This time, he tastes of gin and lime, and a swipe of his tongue on your lower lip makes you sigh, your hands sliding to the back of his head to get lost in his soft hair. His hand rests flat on your back, as if to keep you from stepping away.

Like you would.

You don’t ever want to step away from Jungkook. Tonight, you think it doesn’t matter that he’s Taehyung’s best friend. It doesn’t matter that he is supposedly engaged to someone else. Right now, it feels like he’s yours - you’re foolish enough to believe that he is.

“Let’s dance,” Jungkook murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours.

“Let’s grab something else to drink first.”

You grab Jungkook’s hand, pulling him closer to the bar again. He follows, his thumb soothingly rubbing circles on the back of your hand, and he doesn’t let go when you lean against the bar, attracting the barman’s attention.

“Are you up for some Jager bombs?” you suggest.

He smirks, looking downright devilish with the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’d never say no to Jager Bombs.”

That’s how you find yourself downing two shots each, and you’re getting pretty tipsy by the time the show starts, and Jungkook pulls you onto the dancefloor. You dance and dance, the atmosphere electric, Jungkook’s laugh so contagious you think you might have caught a happy disease. Because you can’t stop smiling, you can’t stop laughing.

It’s like the engagement party never happened and frankly, it’s what you needed.

Jungkook pulls you closer in the middle of the crowd, kissing you languidly. You’re quick to kiss him back, to push your tongue in his mouth the moment his lips part to allow entry. He grunts in the kiss, in the intensity that takes on the two of you even though you’re in public.

You want him so bad. You’ve always wanted him badly, but right now it’s making your blood sing in your veins.

But the evening is young still, and so you return to dancing, your back pressed against Jungkook. You sway your hips to the beat of the music, and he guides your motions, head hanging low. He occasionally presses soft kisses on the side of your face, and your eyes flutter shut in contentment.

If you’d die right now, you think you’d die happy.

“Peach,” Jungkook whispers.

Your eyes flutter open as you glance at him. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel smaller than a speck of dust. “What?”

“Should we go home?” he asks.

You glance towards the scene, where the DJ is clearly in the middle of his set. “The show’s not over yet.”

“I know.” He nips at your jaw, and you tilt your head to the side to allow him access to your neck. He’s quick to press an open-mouthed kiss there.

You turn in his hold, finding his lips again. This kiss is hotter, like fire blazing bright, and you, too, want to head home. You want to get lost in him, in this moment of him being yours out in public like this.

“Fuck, JK,” you whisper when you pull away, breathing raggedly.

“What?”

“Kissing you like this, where anyone can see…” you trail off, glancing at the crowd.

Nobody is paying you any attention, yet you feel like you’re the center of the universe right now. Or maybe that’s Jungkook - he’s the center of your universe.

“It’s turning me on,” you finish in a breathy sentence meant just for him.

“Peach,” he says, voice low and husky. It ignites even more warmth inside of you, and you think you’re about to melt in his touch. “Then I’ll bring you here more often. I’ll show everyone that you’re mine, mmh?”

That you’re mine. You like the sound of those words in his mouth far too much, even though part of you wants to reply that you’re your own self, and don’t belong to anyone.

Perhaps you want to belong to him, and that in and of itself is a far too dangerous thought. But New York shines tonight, and you feel infinite.

You are infinite, as long as he’s by your side.

You stay for the rest of the DJ’s set, despite you both wanting to go home. Jungkook is touchy, yet respectfully so as you dance, never really touching you where you want him, but his hands lingering near every fiery spot in your body. The Uber ride home is spent in tense silence, as is the walk up to the elevators of his building.

He holds your hand through it all, refusing to let go, and you like it.

You like everything about this moment, right now. Like you’ve stepped into an alternate universe where you really are his, and you pray you’ll never have to leave.

The elevator doors slide open, and Jungkook pulls you in. You’re disappointed when you notice a middle-aged woman already riding the elevator from the underground parking lot, and Jungkook politely nods to her as he presses the button for the highest floor.

Fortunately, the woman gets off on the eighth floor, and you’re left alone with Jungkook. He’s quick to spring into action, pushing you back against the wall so that he can steal a languid kiss of tongues and lips, of getting lost in him until you fully lose touch with reality.

“Fuck,” you breathe as Jungkook leaves a trail of hot kisses from your jaw to your neck.

He sucks a hickey below your ear, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you drag your hands through his hair, leaving it dishevelled.

The doors of the elevator slide open, and Jungkook startles, taking a step back from you. One glance down reveals the proof of his attraction for you, and you really are aflame, burning from the inside out.

“I need to take a shower,” you say.

A cold, cold shower, before you combust irreparably.

“Okay,” Jungkook lets out, and he grabs your hand again to pull you to the door.

You don’t know how he does it, but he refrains from kissing you when you’re in. You’d expected him to jump on you - you practically wanted him to - but Jungkook, ever so the gentleman, only leads you inside and to his room.

You take in the city skyline, the beauty of being so high you feel like you’re flying. The city sparkles, lights shining on and on, and you glance at Jungkook.

His eyes shine with undiluted lust and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You just know it’s ten thousand times better than the shadows that had lingered in his gaze after the engagement party, and you want to cling to it.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” you suggest as he helps you out of your coat.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he teases, flicking your nose.

He’s your Jungkook again, and an excited thrill goes through you.

“Yes,” you say, smirking. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll wash your back.”

He narrows his gaze, though his lips curve upwards. “I’m always nice.” He puts your coat away in the walk-in wardrobe, emerging without his own coat, too.

“Are you?”

You let out a yelp as he bends to pick you up bridal style. “Always,” he says, pecking your cheek once as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you grumble as he carries you to the bathroom, putting you down on the counter.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not even a little bit sorry,” he teases, and he steals a quick kiss on your lips before stepping away from you to turn on the shower.

You watch him as he does so - he’s beautiful, with his dishevelled hair and big doe eyes he casts on you as he glances over his shoulder. He’s still smiling, his features so soft you can’t help but smile back, your heart fluttering in your chest.

“How hot do you want the shower to be?” he asks.

You smirk. “What kind of hot are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes, though his light laugh fills the air. “Water temperature, dummy.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Just put it how you like it.”

He nods, and he does so, adjusting the settings until the multiple shower heads are on, and steam soon starts to waft out of the shower.

Jungkook walks back to you, toying with his piercings. You scan his features, lingering on his eyebrow piercing, and then spread your thighs so that he can step between your legs. He does so, wrapping his arms around your middle, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

He picks you up, putting you down on the floor. “Gotta get you out of your dress, mmh?”

Your heart once again hitches in your chest, and goosebumps rise on your arms as Jungkook lightly brushes his fingers up your skin.

“Turn around, peach,” he tells you.

You obey, and you watch yourself in the mirror as Jungkook unzips your dress. There’s something so intimate about the moment that your pulse skyrockets, butterflies making a mess of your stomach.

Jungkook finishes unzipping the dress, and he pushes it off your shoulders, pressing a kiss on the naked skin he’s revealed on the back of your shoulder. You feel apprehensive, like he hasn’t seen you naked before, and you gulp as he lets go of the dress, and it falls to the floor to pool around your ankles.

“You know,” Jungkook breathes as you shiver, the air colder than you expect. Your nipples perk on your chest, and Jungkook is quick to wrap his arms around you so that he can tease the sensitive buds with his fingers. “Every time I see you, you get more beautiful.”

“Jk…” you breathe out, cheeks burning under the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s true,” he insists. He turns you around, his eyes lost in yours. “There’s something about you…” he trails off.

He never finishes the sentence as you stand on your tiptoe, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt. Your mouths collide, and you sigh against the plump softness of him, kissing him softly, tenderly. He kisses you back just as softly, his hands holding you by the waist.

“Peach…” he sighs.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already looking at you, and you do feel like the most beautiful woman in the world when he looks at you like that.

“I think you’re supposed to undress too,” you whisper.

He chuckles softly, taking a step back from you. “Wanna help?”

You gulp again, your throat feeling dry, yet you raise trembling hands in the space between you so that you can reach for the buttons of his shirt. You focus on the task at hand, on every inch of honey skin revealed by the buttons coming undone. Jungkook’s intense gaze doesn’t leave your face as you undress him, and soon you’re pushing his shirt off him, resting your hands flat on his chest.

His heart is racing under your palms, the only indication that this is affecting him just as badly as it’s affecting you.

You meet his gaze as he takes charge of taking off his pants, and soon they’re on the floor with your dress and his shirt, and you both stand in your underwear, gazes embracing.

“I’m so going to take my time with you tonight,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. His thumb gently swipes at your skin, and you instinctively lean your head into his palm.

“Yeah?” you let out.

He tilts your head back with a finger under your chin, and then he’s kissing you again, as if to prove it to you with actions rather than words. “Definitely,” he says the second he pulls away. And then his hands go down your body, slowly, finding the hem of your panties. “Can I take this off?”

You nod, and he drops to his knees. Your eyes widen, yet he only busies himself with taking your underwear off, helping you step out of it once it’s around your ankles. He gets up again after, and he pushes his boxers down.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the obvious bulge in his underwear, but his dick stands proud and tall the second you glance down, already leaking precum.

He’s been wanting you badly, and it shows.

“Shit, Jungkook,” you breathe.

“I know,” he lets out. “I’m fucking hard for you.” He chuckles, and grabs your face to force you to meet his gaze again. “From the mess I saw in your panties, I know you’re already soaked for me too.” He pecks your lips, and then your forehead. “But shower first, right?”

You kiss again, and this time he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

“Shower first,” you repeat the second you pull away.

He smirks, winking at you, and then he walks over to the shower, leaving you there with your heart beating out of your chest. You take a deep breath, trying to tame the wild beats, and soon enough you follow Jungkook, right when he steps in the shower. He holds the glass door open for you, closing it behind you once you’re in, hot water splashing you.

You face Jungkook, and he looks at you with his head tilted to the side, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Pass me the soap?”

You nod, gulping, and you look away from him to find the soap. You grab it, handing it to Jungkook, and he gently takes it out of your hands.

“Turn around,” he tells you for the second time tonight. “I’ll wash your back.”

“Shouldn’t you start with my hair?” you ask.

He chuckles. “So bossy. Wet your hair then.”

You obey, and soon enough Jungkook is rubbing shampoo on your scalp, and your eyes flutter shut as you relax into the touch. He rinses your hair when he’s done, and then takes care of the conditioner.

“You like being pampered, don’t you?” he teases.

“Only if you’re the one pampering me,” you fire back.

He laughs, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead again. “Then I guess I need to pamper you more.”

You’re falling. You know exactly what’s happening, and you wonder if he feels it too.

“Let me take care of you,” you say once Jungkook is done with washing your hair.

He smiles down at you, nodding once. “Okay.”

And so you wash him, cleaning his back first. You teasingly rub his ass, and Jungkook throws you a glare over his shoulder that makes you burst out laughing. Once you’re done he turns around, and you gently rub his chest, a smile still curving your lips upwards as you fall in comfortable silence.

He isn’t so hard anymore. Yet, when your hands get lower on his abdomen, his dick twitches, and he’s quick to get hard again. You cock an eyebrow, looking up at him.

“I barely touch you and this is how you react?” you tease.

He grabs your jaw, his grip firm. “And now you’ll clean my dick too, won’t you?”

You blush, nodding once as he lets go of your jaw to cup your cheek instead. You wrap a hand around the base of his dick, and then you stroke him once. His lips part, and he pulls on his piercings before looking down at himself.

“Let me…” he trails off, and you nod, stepping away from him to let him clean himself. You quickly wash yourself as he does so, cheeks burning so much you wouldn’t be surprised if you were purple.

Once you’re both cleaned, you face Jungkook again, and he offers you a soft smile. Unable to resist, you look down at his dick, reaching for him again.

“Now that you’re clean…” you let out, and you smirk. “Maybe I can actually take care of you?”

You don’t know where the courage comes from, but you’re not going to waste it. Indeed, you immediately drop to your knees, and Jungkook redirects the shower heads away from your face.

“Yeah?” he lets out. “You want to suck me?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, and then you jerk him off once, eyes moving to his dick. It’s pretty, though not as hard as he was earlier, and you tentatively swirl your tongue around his tip, before sucking on it lightly.

Jungkook curses under his breath, leaning a hand against the wall as if looking for support. “Don’t be shy,” he says.

You smirk again, and this time you drag your tongue on the side of his dick, from base to top, before wrapping your lips around him again. You hollow your cheeks as you take most of him in your mouth, and Jungkook moans softly when he hits the back of your throat.

“Shit…” he lets out.

You suck harder as you pull almost all the way off, and then you truly get to work, eyes fluttering shut as you suck him, jerking him off in time with the motions of your head. Jungkook holds your head, letting you set the rhythm you feel comfortable with, and soon you’re moaning on his dick, the vibrations making him curse.

You take him all the way in, looking up at him despite the tears blinding your gaze. He’s got his head thrown back, lips parted as he breathes heavily, chest moving rapidly. You wonder if you’d be able to make him come like this, and you suck harder, holding in the gag reflex that’s threatening to interrupt your ministrations on him.

“Peach,” he moans, and then he pulls out of your mouth.

A string of spit connects his tip to your lips, and you’re quick to lick at it, to taste the precum that’s dripping from his slit.

“That feels good?” you ask.

He nods. “Way too much,” he replies, chuckling breathlessly. “I’m going to fall in love with your mouth if you keep sucking me like that.”

You don’t need more to spur you into action, and you go back to sucking him, pouring everything you have in the action. His dick gets harder and harder in your mouth, and you know he has to be close. So you tentatively tease his balls with your free hand, and he moans as you squeeze lightly.

“Peach,” he lets out, and it sounds whiny. “Stop. I want to fuck you now.”

You pull out, offering him an innocent pout as you keep jerking him off quickly. “You don’t think you’d be able to go for round two?”

He chuckles, slightly shaking his head. “Not when I drank. And I really just want to make you feel good too.”

Only for that reason do you let him pull you up to your feet, and you reluctantly let go of his dick as he pushes you against the tile wall, mouth immediately finding yours in a ravaging kiss. You moan as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, and you go back to jerking him off, unable to keep your hands off him.

He hisses as he pulls away from the kiss, and then he glances towards his discarded pants on the floor beyond the glass door of the shower. “I have condoms in there,” he reveals, and then he meets your gaze again. “But you deserve better than to be fucked in a shower, mmh?”

You gulp, nodding once as he steals another quick kiss on your lips, and then he turns off the shower. You stand in the steam for a few seconds, holding each other’s gaze, and then Jungkook pulls you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you.

You’re quick to dry yourself, lust and desire clouding your mind, and you don’t hesitate when Jungkook grabs your hand, pulling you towards his bedroom. The walk-in is cold as you step out of the bathroom, but you busy yourself with watching the strong muscles of his back, and the tattoos on his arm. It’s distracting enough, and soon Jungkook turns to face you again, kissing you deeply before pulling away.

“Do you want me to close the curtains?” he asks as he steps away from you, enough so that your eyes fall to his erection.

“You think people can see us?” you let out, casting a quick glance towards the tall windows, and the city beyond.

“Maybe, if they’re looking up here,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s never bothered me, but I’ve never been with anyone in this bed, so…”

Your gaze widens. “You’ve never fucked here?”

You think it’s blush creeping on his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve never brought a girl here at all.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry what?”

He winks at you, eyes going down your frame. They stop on your perked nipples, and he toys with his piercings.

“You’re the first girl who’s ever come here,” he says. “The first one I’ll fuck in this bed. And maybe I do want the city to see me fucking you. I want them to see how beautiful you are when you come.”

You’re speechless as he strolls towards you, and his mouth collides with yours, his lips moving like he’s a starved man against yours. He pushes you towards the bed, and you fall on it the second the back of your legs hit it. He looks at you, wetting his lips, and then winks.

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappears back into the walk-in, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him as he retrieves a condom from his wallet. He inspects the tinfoil package on the way back, making sure that the condom is safe to use, and then he rips it open, pulling the condom out.

He puts it on, rolling it down his dick as you watch with your heart beating wildly again as it knows what’s to come.

No one has ever fucked you as good as Jungkook, and you can tell he won’t disappoint tonight either. No, the intensity in his gaze can’t be mistaken, and the second he kneels between your legs you spread your thighs wide open, offering yourself on a silver platter.

“Already?” he teases, and he strokes himself slowly. “I thought you’d need a little bit of foreplay before.”

“Trust me,” you let out. “I’m already wet enough for you to rearrange my guts.”

He smirks, and he moves closer, close enough to rub his dick on your folds. “You are.” He says it like he’s surprised, but the second he starts rubbing his dick on your clit you’re gone, unable to form logical thoughts. “So you want me to fuck you? To rearrange your guts?”

“Jungkook,” is all you can reply.

He teases your folds again, pushes in just enough for his tip to part them. “Tell me what you want, peach.”

“I want you,” you say, and you don’t care how whiny you sound.

You feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you into oblivion.

“Where?” he asks, and he pulls away to rub his dick on your clit again.

You clench your jaw, reaching for his dick, but Jungkook is quick to grab your hand with his free one, pinning your wrist over your head.

“Be nice, mmh?” he says in your ear, and then he straightens.

“I want you inside of me, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” He pushes in, though he stops when just his tip is in. “Like this?”

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you grumble.

Jungkook laughs, and a second later he slams home, his dick splitting you open as he pushes almost all of himself inside of you. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, and he barely gives you time to adjust before he grabs your waist, and he starts pounding you, setting an unforgiving pace.

His thrusts are quick and hard, and you see stars almost immediately, your walls clenching around him. It doesn’t slow him down, only makes him readjust himself until he hits a better angle, and you moan loudly as he drags against the sweetest spot inside of you.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

He bends down, slowing just long enough to lean on his elbow, and then he holds your shoulders as he jackhammers into you again, so hard his bed bangs into the wall repeatedly.

There’s no one to hear you fucking here. And he knows it - it’s like he’s keen on rearranging your guts, and you’re a whining, moaning mess as he fucks you hard. You hold onto his back, nails digging in his skin and Jungkook grunts in your ears as his pace never falters.

You know he’s got good stamina, but tonight feels different, like he’ll fuck you until the sun rises.

“Shit, peach,” Jungkook lets out, and he pulls out of you so suddenly you’re left gasping for air.

“Wh-” you start, but he flips you over, repositioning himself so that he can push inside of you again.

He doesn’t move right away, instead massaging your ass cheeks as your walls clench around his dick, begging for more. He slaps your ass, not hard enough to hurt but enough to sting, and you clutch the bed sheets, pushing your hips back into him.

“You want some control, mmh?” he asks, and he pulls back just enough to allow you more movement.

It doesn’t take you long before you take advantage of it, fucking yourself back on him, rolling your hips when he hits your cervix.

“You’re so big,” you let out on a whine. “So deep.”

“And you take me so well, peach.” He slaps your ass again, massaging the sting away. “Like your pussy was made for me.”

“It was,” you reply right away.

Jungkook thrusts once, and you rock forward on the bed from the intensity of his motion. Luckily for you, he was holding your waist, and so his dick doesn’t leave you empty.

“Good girl,” he says, so low it sounds like a growl, and then he’s back to pounding inside of you, and you’re a mess, trying to hold yourself together as you clutch the sheets.

Jungkook leans on one hand, snapping his hips into you again and again, and he wraps his free hand under you, blindly searching for your clit. The second he touches the sensitive bundle of nerves you moan loudly again, and he doesn’t need more to start rubbing figures on you, quick circles that send you into orbit so fast you barely realize your orgasm has hit you until you come down from the high, legs shaking as your vision keeps going in and out of focus.

Jungkook stops moving for a few seconds, bending down to press a feathersoft kiss on the side of your face. “You came hard,” he states.

“Holy fuck,” is all you can reply.

“One day, I want to feel you come on my dick without a condom on,” he says, and then he’s fucking you again, though this time he’s clearly chasing his own high.

Yet it feels good, far too good, and you come again - did you actually stop coming in the first place - as he rams his hips into yours. Jungkook milks it out of you, whispering filthy praises to you all along, and once he’s sure you’ve calmed down, he pulls out, flipping you on your back again.

He steals a kiss on your lips as he pushes in again, and this time he fucks you slower, deeper, lips never leaving yours. You lose trembling hands in his hair, run them along his back, and you wrap your legs around his waist for him to fuck you deeper. He doesn’t disappoint, and you take all of him in you as he pushes in, and then pulls almost all the way out.

“I’ll fall in love with your pussy,” Jungkook whispers against you.

He rests his forehead against yours, and your heart fills with far too many emotions - none you can voice.

“JK…”

“Peach,” he answers in the same tone, and then he kisses you again. The second he breaks from the kiss he straightens, going back to kneeling between your legs. “Now be nice and let me come, mmh?”

“Come for me.”

“On it.”

You don’t know when he comes. All you know is that you’re swimming in far too much bliss when he starts fucking you hard again, and you lose touch with your body. It’s like you’re floating somewhere close to the ceiling, or maybe amongst the stars up above. You’re floating, and Jungkook grunts and curses as he fucks you, his motions growing sloppier, and soon he stills deep inside of you, hands holding your waist as he releases loads and loads of cum in the condom.

You wish he’d come inside of you so you’d feel it drip out of you when he pulls out. It’s a dirty thought to have, yet you can’t help it - not when you’re literally swimming in ecstasy, feeling like you’re buzzing.

Jungkook lies down next to you, resting a hand on your stomach as you try to regain your breath. It takes you a while - long enough for him to kiss the side of your face and promise he’ll be back as he disappears in the bathroom - but you do come down from the high, the bedroom and the city beyond the windows finally coming back into focus.

It’s raining. You didn’t realize it before, but raindrops are racing each other on the window, and you get lost admiring the view as Jungkook cleans himself in the bathroom.

He comes back with a wet washcloth for you to clean yourself, and you thank him as he offers it to you. You know you have to go pee before you sleep though, so you brave the walk to the bathroom, legs feeling like jelly under you. You manage to make it to the bathroom and back, and Jungkook welcomes you back into bed with a tired smile on his lips.

“Come here,” he says, and he opens his arms for you to nestle in his embrace.

You do so, pushing one leg between his as you wrap one arm around his waist.

“Feeling okay?” Jungkook asks.

“I think I’ll need weeks to recover,” you tease, and Jungkook’s answering laugh makes you feel like you’re the luckiest girl in the universe.

“Does that mean I can’t fuck you for a few weeks?” he asks, and you hear the pout in his voice.

It makes you smile against him.

“Mmmh,” you let out. “Nah, I want you to fuck me like this again tomorrow.”

He laughs again, and his arms tighten around you. “Then we better get a good night of sleep. We need to drive back home tomorrow.”

Back home. Together. Because, even if he’s Taehyung’s best friend, which you’ve conveniently forgotten all weekend, he’s also your roommate.

You share a home, and you think there’s beauty in that thought.

You yawn, nuzzling your face in his chest. “I don’t know about you but I’ll sleep like a rock.”

“And snore?”

“I don’t snore,” you answer, frowning slightly.

Jungkook chuckles and then kisses the top of your head. “You snore a little. Not as much as me though.”

“Tell me about it,” you complain, even though his soft snores had acted like white noise yesterday, helping you fall asleep despite the unfamiliar environment.

He yawns, pulling even closer. “Peach?”

You hum in answer.

“Thank you for this weekend,” he whispers. “I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, wanting to argue.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “You’re…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, and you pull away just enough so that you can look up at his face. “I’m what?”

“You’re you,” he answers, as if that explains anything.

And when you see the softness clinging to his gaze, you think maybe it does.

Prev | Chapter 8.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

my two precious babies gosh we need to protect them at all costs fr :') did you guys like this chapter? Let me know what you think!

#chasing cars ch 8 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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jyoongim · 9 months ago

Text

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life! fluff, smut, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy, blood, murder, secrets

In this chapter: slow build up! Smut! Love-making, Creampie, slight breeding kink

this chapter is VERY long!!!

Chapter one Chapter three

Chapter two

The sound of voices filled your home as the ladies chatted in your parlor.

“Oh honey is that peach cobbler? Why you would think it was Sunday with the spread you made.” Agnise said as you came from the kitchen with the dish and placed it on the dessert table, causing all the ladies to turn to you.

You had finger sandwiches filled with ham, beignets, one too many cakes, banana pudding, sweet tea and lemonade.

You were in a baking mood and since it was just high noon, you kept it lite for today’s meeting.

You let out a laugh “oh it was nothin’. Thought we deserved a treat since the last time we saw each other. We housewives deserve a little sugar sometimes.” The ladies giggled at your comment.

Grabbing a sandwich, you took a seat by Rosie, “Now what were y’all talking about while i was in the kitchen?”

”Abi was telling us the Smiths youngest was found in bed with that scrappy gent that worked down at the mill” Rosie said, sipping her tea. You gasped, hand over your heart “Ain’t that girl engaged to um oh what that boy’s name?” You snapped your fingers trying to think

”David Johnson” Abigail snickered “Just know Old smith threw a fit. I heard her mother went crying to the church shouting. Ooooh must have been real bad”

Agnise chimed in “Also Harriet told me that Elaine is expecting…and it ain’t her husband’s” shocked gasps filled the room. “Elaine? As in love the church, has three youngins Elaine? Oh that poor woman I don’t know how she do it” Rosie shuddered. Abigail smirked “Yeah poor Elaine, so who’s the father?”

Agnise chuckled “Take a guess”

Literally you, Rosie, and Abigail looked to each other puzzled.

”Pastor Brown from the next town over” Agnise said.

squeals and laughs erupted from all of you.

You shook with laughter as you took a deep breathe. “Ok ok enough of that. How have y’all been?”

Rosie was running a boutique, New Orleans finest clothes and it was really taking off. She talked about how some cheap fabrics came in and she ain’t have a clue what to do with them.

Agnise happily chirped about how her two oldest had got accepted in some fancy school on the other of town.

Abigail complained that she thought the maid was stealing her clothes, claiming too many of her fine dresses were missing out of her closet.

”Oh dear how is that handsome husband of yours? I was hoping to the man when I was coming in.” Rosie said smiling.

Rosie and Alastor were the closest besides Mimzy. He often dropped by to have her make your clothes and tailor some of his suits.

”Oh you know how Alastor is” you waved your hand, “he set out early this morning to the radio station. We’re suppose to down to Mimzy’s club tonight”

Agnise and Abigail looked at you shocked “That ol rigity joint? Oh darling no. That man makes good money, why y’all going down there?”

You had met Agnise and Abigail when you were in school. They were a bit more Polish than Rosie who didn’t mind a good time.

”I think that lounge is rather charming. The music is good.” You defended.

”Well enjoy it now, I had a dream bout fishes and you know what that mean” Agnise said, giving you a knowing look.

You blinked, then blushed, taking a sip of tea. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you feigned dumb.

She smirked, red lips curling “You’ve been hiding news from us haven’t you?”

Abigail looked at you, “Are you?”her honey eyes roamed over your figure.

”Ladies no! I’ve told y’all me and Alastor haven’t discussed children. We don’t have time for that” you said pouting at their accusations.

”What man don’t want his own running around? The two of you been married for a few years now, i had half expected at least something.” Agnise said.

”Alastor has just settled in good as radio host. What kind of wife would I be if I just randomly suggested having a little one running around? No I couldn’t.” You gripped your cup, looking down.

You and Alastor hadn’t really discussed children. You figured you would wait a few years to get settled into your marriage before thinking of children.

With alastor’s career taking off, you didn’t have it in you to just spring the notion on him.

You didn’t mind. It was quite nice not having to clean and look after a baby.

BUT

You did want to potentially have children with Alastor.

The house would be a lot livier and you thought Alastor would make a great father.

”Y’all ain’t getting any younger dear!” Agnise said “i mean unless there’s a another woman invovled”

Rosie let out a hiss, glaring at the woman “Oh shush that! Alastor wouldn’t do that! He loves his wife too much to even look at another woman”

Agnise shrugged.

Abigail patted your hand “Honey don’t listen to her. I am sure you’ll have a whole litter running around afterwhile. Not having children ain’t all that grand.”

You pouted. That did not make you feel better.

Rosie seeemd to pick on up your down mood and interjected

”We came to discuss books! Enough of this husband and children talk! So we left off at Charles securing the mistress!”

The little gathering went on without a problem, but the comments and conversation still bounced in your head.

Alastor wouldn’t seek out another woman just because I haven’t…right?

You and Alastor’s intimate life was fine to your knowledge.

The man wasn’t the most affectionate, but he did try.

He was loving and gave you anything you wanted.

THATS what any wife wanted right?

Not having children didn’t seem to make him any less doting with you.

But you still felt that nagging doubt as you tried to reassure yourself.

”Bye now! Tell Nathaniel I said hello and Abi please just see if the maid took your dress!”you hollered from your porch, waving the ladies as they smiled and walked down the street.

You sighed. Rosie had stayed behind and was cleaning up.

”oh Rosie you’re a guest please let me” you said grabbing the dirty dishes.

”I’ve been here so much this is practically my home girl please.”she laughed as she grabbed the tablecloth and put in in the hamper.

”Those two are certainly a handful. Don’t take what they said to heart. They are just bitter their husbands don’t love on them like yours” she chided.

You hummed. Rosie was right. What did it matter that you didn’t have kids? That didn’t change anything.

”I know Ro but I feel like I’m failing as a wife. But i promise I’m fine I swear” you quickly said as she gave you a look.

She looked at the clock “Oh my well look at the time! Do give Alastor my love dear”

You gave her a hug and walked her out, waving her goodbye as she waltzed down the road.

You were now alone.

The house was quiet and you had cleaned up everything so you wouldn’t have to look at the mess in the morning.

You rolled your shoulders, sighing at the tension and decided a quick nap wouldn’t hurt as you wait for Alastor to come home.

—————————————————————————————————

The sun began to slowly set through the trees as Alastor ran a bloody hand through his hair, the brown strands slicking back as he breathed deeply. The man had put up quite a fight, but luckily Alastor could quickly deal with his little problem.

He had planned to take his wife out for tonight, but with the way he was feeling, he would rather be in your embrace and sleep.

He would stop and get you your favorite flowers as an apology and maybe cook for you instead. A soft smile appeared on his face as he imagined your face as he came in with flowers and kissed your soft lips as he propose hell cook for dinner.

Soft jazz would be playing and after the meal he would ask you to dance. Peppering your face in kisses as you laughed at him, thinking he was silly.

And maybe afterwards, he could indulge himself in you. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of your face contorted in pleasure.

Oh yes he was sure you wouldn’t mind why he came home late

He hid away his shovel in an old storage house and changed clothes.

Getting in his car, he hummed along to the radio as he thought of what to make for dinner.

—————————————————————————————————-

Alastor softly closed the back door as he slowly set down the flowers and groceries. He peeked his head in the parlor and found you sleeping on the couch.

He quickly made his way upstairs, hid his clothes in the back of your closet, showered, and went back down stairs.

He grabbed the flowers and slowly slid beside you, pulling you into his lap.

You snuggled into his neck, eyebrows scrunching, waking up ”hmmm Alastor?” you groaned as he snickered. He pressed his lips to your plump cheek “Seems my darling wife had a very long day. Seems I got caught up at work and didn’t catch the time. But…” he pressed the flowers to your nose as you took a deep inhale of the flowers, smiling “I do hope you would forgive dear.”

Your heart fluttered at the man, standing to put the bouquet in a vase.

You caught sight of the time and gasped “oh no! I can’t believe I fell asleep for that long, lord on high I ain’t got a single thing out to cook.” You went to make your way to the kitchen, but Alastor was quick to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his lanky frame. “Don’t you worry about dinner darlin’ I got it. I had promised you a night out and forgot. So to pay for my offense Ill cook dinner and why don’t you go upstairs and put on something pretty for me hmm?” He pressed a few soft kisses along the column of your neck, making your breath hitch slightly, before patting your ass to get you moving towards the stairs.

Once you made it back downstairs, the smell of dinner made your stomach growl.

Alastor was just setting th plates as you entered the kitchen. “Book club must have been something today, I see you baked a lot of goods today. Good thing I checked before thinking of making dessert” He turned to actually look at you.

Gorgeous is what he thought as he took you in.

You opted for a simple slip dress that fell just before your knees. How enticing.

You accessorized with your pearls and even had your hair curled slightly.

He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around your waist and bring a hand to his lips, kissing it as he looked at you with utter devotion.

”My my don’t you look lovely dear” he whistled, twirling you around slowly.

You blushed and looked towards the stove “Dinner smells great Al, what did you make?” He ushered you to the dining table and pulled you chair out for you to sit before fetching tonight’s dinner.

Shrimp and grits in one bowl and jambalaya.

For dessert he took a piece of butter cake that you made earlier and chilled sweet tea and lemonade.

You moaned in delight as the flavor of the jambalaya burned your mouth. “Oh Al! You added a bit more spice this time but it goes good with the grits. oh i love your jambalaya.” You praised him.

You practically danced in your seat as you ate causing Alastor to chuckle.

”I never tire of your praise for my mother’s recipe my dear. I must say this cake might just be my new favorite” he said.

You decided to fill him the latest gossip you heard today from the ladies

”Rosie sends her love by the way. Oh you would not believe what Agnise told us today…” you started.

Alastor had a lazy smile on his face as you talked animatedly about todays gossip. He nodded along and even gasped at the details you shared. You made him swear he wont repeat it anywhere, including on the radio.

You took a sip of lemonade ”Agnise made a comment that she was surprised we haven’t had kids yet. Can you believe that woman?” Alastor tilted his head “I wouldn’t put it pass that one. Well what did you say?”

Alastor asked taking in your reaction as you pouted, swirling your fork in your grits before stabbing a shrimp. You sighed “I told her that we just weren’t ready. I mean you just got settled in at the studio good. Then the nerve of that woman to say that you were probably seeing another because I wasn’t putting out.” You mumbled that part, feeling pinges of doubt start to rise in you as you looked at him.

Alastor scoffed “darling I only ever had eyes for you” he reached across the table to grasp your hand, thumb fiddling with your wedding ring. “Nothing will make me look at you different. To me, you’re perfect. You are much more than I could ever deserve” he smiled at you. “Do you want children darlin?” He asked.

You blinked, a warm blush crept up your cheeks “I-I mean it might has crossed my mind once of twice, but I-I dont know” you looked away, feeling shy.

Alastor grinned “I think you would make a wonderful mother my dear. Through I will admit having to share you i dont know about that” he laughed “buuuuut if having children will make you happy, who am I to say no?” His voice dropped an octave as he smiled at you.

You were shocked. You hadn’t thought that Alastor would be open to having children. But you didn’t just want to have kids because of social pressure. You wanted it to be something you were sure of…

”Its a big responsibility if we have children Al”you whispered. He hummed, shrugging “Dear I make more than enough that our children will have comfortable upbringing, besides Ill be there the whole step of the way”

That reassurance made your heart swell.

You smiled, a soft laugh bubbling out of your chest “Then I guess well see what happens then huh?”

You finished dinner, Alastor leaving the dishes to soak and you giggled as he dragged you upstairs. “Alastor! Hahaha dont you have work tomorrow?” You entered your shared bedroom and squealed as he lavished your exposed shoulders in kisses.

He groaned in response as he unbuttoned his shirt as his hands gripped at your hips.

”what do that have to do with us delving into the throws of pleasures darlin? Its been quite some time since I’ve paid you proper attention.”

Your back hit the duvet as he situated himself between your thighs. Your dress bunched at your hips, exposing your lacy garter. His hand toyed with the fabric, lips curling in a smirk “Were you planing to seduce me dear?” You shook your head as you curled your arms around his neck, pulling his head to meet his lips.

”Hmmm lets keep the pearls and garter on” he grinned down at you.

”Nngh! Ah! Ah! Ha! Ah! Oh god!”you cried out as Alastor thrusted into you. Your fingers gripped at his hair as you moaned into his neck, kissing over the red bruises forming on his skin.

Fingers flexed on your thigh, keeping your leg pressed into your stomach. The only sound that filled the room were your sweet moans and his soft grunts and the slap slap of his dick burying into your cunt.

Alastor’s back muscles flexed as you raked a hand along his back, groaning as your nails left burning trails into his flesh.

”One more. You can give me one more can’t you darlin?” He asked huskily as he snapped his hips into yours.

Your body buzzed as your third orgasm approached. The pearl necklace that hung around your neck, bounced with your breasts as Alastor nipped at your neck. One of his hands crept up your chest to play with one of your nipples. Tugging and pinching the perk peak as your cunt clenched around him.

”I can’t wait to see you pregnant ma cher. All nice and round, carrying my child.”

A sharp pinch had you whining “These lovely tits of your full of milk god I can’t wait to taste it” his head shifted to your chest, his warm mouth taking the mound into his mouth. Teeth and tongue teased as his thrusts picked up pace.

”A-Al! Oh! Oh! P-Please!” You threw your head back in pleasure.

Alastor couldn’t help but let his twisted feelings take over, a hand wrapped around your throat, applying slight pressure as you whined.

He brought his face back to yours, nose brushing against yours as your swollen lips enticed him to suck and bite at them. He maneuvered both your thighs to be pressed against your stomach, giving him leverage to hammer into you soppy heat.

”You want me to give you a baby darlin? Hmm? Want me to fill the needy cunt of yours and spill my seed into you?”you moaned, eyes glazed with lust.

Alastor smirked “Use your words baby. C’mon” a harsh thrust made your toes curl.

”y-yes please please Alastor give me a baby!” You cried.

A wild look was in his eyes

“Oh ill give you all the babies you want. I’ve wanted to see you swollen with my child since our wedding day. You’ll look so pretty baby. All filled with my cum and swollen. Yeeesss what a lovely sight you’ll make”

His thumb worked tight circles on your clit as your back arched into him as your orgasm ripped through you. Alastor slammed his lips on yours to swallow the loud moan that tried to spill from your lips.

He grunted as his hips shuddered. Chasing his orgasm as he rode yours out. With a hiss, his dick twitched and soon warm cream painted your gummy walls.

With a sigh, he coaxed his tongue against yours as he gave you a few more soft thrusts.

Panting and flushed, your legs fell limp as he pulled out and smirked at the mess he had made of you. A white stream slowly pooling out of you.

Spent and feeling the blissful afterglow, you curled into the covers, wincing at the stickiness between your thighs. Alastor pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead “normally Ill clean you up, but since were trying no need.” He brushed a curl out of your face as you began to fall asleep

”Alastor?” You said tiredly.

He hummed, as he ran his hand up and down your arm, admiring the red bruises on your neck and shoulder

”I love you”

He grinned as you dozed off.

”I love you too dear”

———————————————————————

Soooo what did you guys think??? Bit of a slow burn yes? we got a peak into what Alastor was doing hehehee

@nightshadelm @th3-st4r-gur1 @amurtan @lunaramune @southern-bayou-beau @karolinda007-blog @simphornies @yourdoorisunlocked @nettaw @purplecatsandhearts @catherine1206 @jellibean2018 @thewinchestah @wonderlandangelsposts @alishii @readergirlstuff @missgurlsstuff @yuzurixx @darkovergrownforestnymph @dasimp777 @markster666 @alastorsgirl48 @alastor-simp @alastorsaries @preciousbabypeter @alastwhore666 @strawberrypimp666 @stawberrypimpsimp @queenariesofnarnia @peachedtvs @peachedtv @tpks @siiv3r @hazelfoureyes @okay-babe @aconfusedworld @chewbrry @altruisticalastor @yunimimii @dievia3 @alastorsdear @alastorsdarlingdoe @t0byisher3 @dennsfz @twismare @nanami1chu @yoongibabs @menthatilove @smoky000 @luzzbuzz @stygianoir @kiralaufeyson84 @for-hearthand-home @luzzbuzz

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x wife reader #human alastor x reader

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 7 months ago

Note

Simon Riley lets out a high-pitched squeal when you shower with him first time because the water is too goddamn hot. (but it’s the best temperature for you).

LOL YES YES YES THIS IS SO TRUE!! Idk why but I also have a hc that he prolly jumped a bit to avoid the hot splash because in his military life he's used to shower in cold ass water, and rarely has time to adjust the temperature since he showered in rush (3 minutes shower). His skin might be a little pink or red after warm (hot) shower. Please just give this man lukewarm bath with rubber duck, shark and starfish, a gentle scalp massage would be a help too and trust me 100% he's addicted to it

yes he deserves a nice bath 😈 ty for the ideas!! this is just some little scenes I think will happen :D!

Simon*Reader, silly couple

btw anon’s talking about this post

Shower with Simon Riley

You finally convince Simon to shower with you the first time (not that he doesn’t want it, he’s just not familiar with these intimate couple things, give that man some time to build his courage).

You throw your clothes aside without any bit of shyness, and step behind the shower curtain, turning on the water and waiting for Simon to come in.

You can’t help but salivate at the man’s figure, and he seems to notice your gaze, his ego must thrive to sky-high in mere seconds.

Until you rinse the water on his chest.

“eee!”

“???” You almost doubt it’s a seagull showering with you when you hear the high-pitched squeak coming from your lover whose voice is always low and gravel.

“...” Oh, and he’s avoiding meeting your eyes now.

“Did you just squeal Simon?”

“No.”

“But I heard—“

“No.”

“You want this bath bomb or this or that?”

“They’re all fucking same.”

“No, this is vanilla, this is lavender, this is rose and this is...”

“Bloody hell... just choose one for me.”

“Alright then.” You toss the vanilla one into the lukewarm water.

10 minutes after Simon falls asleep in the bathtub with the rubber duck in his hand when you softly scratch his scalp.

...

A few days later, you open the drawer outside the bathroom and get drowned by tons of vanilla bath bombs.

“I thought someone said all of them are the same...” You smirk at Simon, while he just stares at you and can’t find a convincing reason to defend himself.

You discover Simon’s skin turns into light pink after showering with you a few times.

“You’re like a strawberry” You two are cuddling on the bed after a soothing shower together. “Your skin always becomes pink after you shower with me.”

“I’m not a fucking strawberry.”

“How about peach?”

“That’s the same.”

“but it’s cute, seeing your cheeks turn red.”

You poke his face cheekily, but he just shoves your blahaj on his face to cover it.

“What, Simon?” You snicker as you scoot closer “Shy for being said cute?”

“...” He doesn’t answer, just covers his face with your plushie more secure.

“How can I kiss you when you cover your face, handsome?”

“...” Simon still maintains silence, but you’re damn sure he’s hesitating.

“You don’t want my kiss?” You fake a disappointed tone, and eventually, he moves the blahaj out of his face.

Your smile deepens when you still spot the pink smearing across his cheeks.

“That’s my man.” You peck his lips “Thanks, cutie”

You really should stop teasing him. You tell yourself when he smashes the blahaj on his face again once he hears you call him cutie.

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

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pascals-doll · 4 months ago

Text

B.A.S

⋆ ˚ . * ·analysis— In which you were bound to a man you don’t desire or love by your parents. An entire relationship built on resentment and treaty-like. Abby Anderson, you’re neighbor whom lived happily with her girlfriend next door. Unruly cravings and wreckful thoughts take over between the both of you, assuring a succulent dalliance. Guess you Both Aint Shit.

abby anderson x reader

₊˚ପ MEGANS NEW ALBUM GOT ME ON MY TOESS 💋

˚ପ i cant believe ive had this lil plot thought out written somewhat since march and i never had time to finish it and im happy i finally did!

₊˚ପ description: MODERN AU! READER IS FEMININE PRESENTING (only desc of reader), MUTUAL CHEATING!, reader is kinda in the closet because of prejudice parents, mentions of heavy religious parents, reader is in arranged marriage with a man!, mutal jealousy, homewrecking, SMUT NAAASTYSMUT, dom!abby, sub!reader, oral sex (r receiving), reader is unexpirenced!, brief size kink, praise kink, heavy making out, fingering (r receiving), lots of pussyeating, no use of y/n,( ___) is blank for partners names, use of pet names (doll, beautiful, baby)

A lavish life was the experience of finding love on your own, letting it grow on you, and completing whelm your entire being. It was the process of getting to know each other to first kiss, to the ask out, to the relationship, and if your lucky; you build life together.

The stage of growth and love; where you plan as you’re just overfilled with emotion. That trigger to jump with joy at the fact that you’re building a whole life path with your special someone.

Years spent learning about each other, sharing parts of yourselves, and taking that time to progress hand in hand; harmoniously. Something, everyone should have the unlawful pleasure of doing.

It something you’ve always dreamed off, feeling it so close as you watch through your curtains. A secret craven in peeking into the silhouettes of the house next door.

You had seen them together for the past year since they moved in. Their happiness almost tangible as they enjoyed each other's company in the pool or on the patio, sipping cocktails and laughing.

You were hardly ever envious in the years you’ve been on earth—but it’s almost taunting like, the way they have so much to give. Truly in paradise with their passion for each other. Although, something didn’t always seem quite right.

Your life never stopped being stifling. You were bound to a man you could never love. An unfair business arrangement orchestrated by your parents alongside constant trips-pointless trips; taken by your close to nonexistent husband.

Abby's girlfriend was also often away on business, and you suspected that she was lonely. Going throughout your day and then coming home to see her in all alone, all day, in that big house.

The entire marriage was a sham, a rule-set of convenience. You couldn’t help yourself any longer once Abby moved in.

Often finding your eyes drifting to her, imagining what it would be like to kiss her peached lips, engulfed within those muscular arms. Such thoughts made you blush, and ignite a feeling in your stomach.

You couldn’t do anything except push your own crawling agenda away, only to have them return with greater intensity.

Abby Anderson was a phenomenal women. She was lead cordinator at a business with the pleasure to provide and work from home. She deserves someone who can take care of all that hard work.

Her girlfriend clearly couldn’t.

‘If you live a life you don’t love, make best of what you want.’

You had never been with a women before. Only close you’ve ever gotten to exploring was dabbling in lesbian porn when your husband wasn’t around. It didn’t take long to dawn on you—that you had never orgasmed, especially not in the way these women in adult videos do and definitely not with your husband.

It was pitiful, really. The fact you couldn’t enjoy such a liberty. Your own sexuality.

A faraway dream of self-discovery and not the norms fed to you by religious beliefs that you couldn’t claim as yours. Dragged on by your parents whom taught you, it was ‘all in good faith’ and ‘Lord knows whats best’.

The only explaination for your abomination of life. Merely neglectful to your candied desires. Wrong, yet right in every way. You were loosing sleep as nights pass, tossing, and turning restless.

Rolling out of your silk sheets groggily. You stepped into your house slippers before walking down your stairs to your living room where your pack of cigarettes are. You grabbed the pack of your dining table, heading out to your front porch.

It was midnight, blurred gray clouds into the black-violet sky as you lit your cigarette and dazing away. You could feel the stagnant air surround your exposed skin, your lacy satin nightgown—a slip of fabric only covering you.

Unbothered and insomatic, taking drags from your malboro as you sat next to your ashtray that displayed on your side table. If you were to turn your head; facing towards and into all your temptations.

From just the corner of your eye, you could see the lights were still on at such an hour. Impulsively giving into your curiosity, turning your chair; peering into her window across the street.

Puffing till your ash thins into the orange-tip. Your attention drowned out until you heard rustling coming from the bushes at the corner of the street and your home. You whip your head around, blunting your cigarette out onto your ashtray and walking towards the barricade of your porch.

Abby was taking out the trash. She dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. She looked relaxed, her long golden hair falling casually around her face. Eventually catching you, offering a friendly wave and came closer to the fence of your porch.

"Hey there!" Abby greets, cool-toned and intrigued. "Can't sleep either, huh?"

Your heart hammered in your chest. "Sure is, just came out for a smoke…uh-hm! How have you been?" You stammered your question, unsure of what to say.

Abby couldn’t help her gaze drop to your nightgown, her eyes glinting under the streetlights. "Just been cooped up alone, taking care of Bear and ____ is away on another business trip.” She exudes, smiling at the mention of her precious furry friend.

You listened intently, a small smile tugged on your lips “____ been gone since the week before. Preoccupying myself by enjoying my magazines alongside my tea,” You let out a small giggle which was returned.

Abby’s presence tensed you, goosebumping your skin as if you were cold all of a sudden.

A small moment of silence was a momentum of chance.

“Would you like to come in for a glass of wine or water? I’d be a horrible neighbor if i left you hangin’” You offer, stepping aside with a soft smile.

She took you in once more, head to toe and an adrenaline pumped throughout her body before spreaking, “It’d be my pleasure”.

4 words 1 sentence. A saying so simple is all it took, to have you clawing at your sanity.

Two cups of Wine turned into more and lighthearted conversations transformed sentimentally with each cup.

You bonded over the fact your partners often left for work, leaving you both lonely in such a big house. Eventually divulging your marital fraud, your desolation worn on your sleeve like an accessory.

“That’s truly not necessary—” you were cut off.

“Accept nothing but the truth, he doesn’t recognize how lucky he’s got it.” You picked up on how her voice turned stern, straightening up as she reassured you. You just stood there frozen.

You gulped, wrapping your arms around yourself as you suddenly felt exposed. You scrambled to think of something to say, your delusions wanting to take this in every way it wasn’t.

Abby suddenly closes the gap between the both of you, leaning onto your counter and into you. You could smell her perfume, the scent of fresh orcid and essential oils tickling your nostrils.

Maybe It was.

“Do you love him?” A very solidifying question.

“I dont know what love is and I definitely don’t love him, more like my parents did.” You grimaced, sarcastic and plainly disinterested in such a discussion. You truly have nothing to compare your marriage too.

“I hate fucking him too. Don’t feel a thing.”

Abby’s eyes widened, her hand reaching over to grasp yours. “Have you—do you like women?” She quirked, a soft giggle falling from her lips.

“Again. Wouldn’t know, sweetheart.” The nickname seemed so naturally. Like, you had been calling her that forever. Your eyes met with Abby’s; face to face with only so much space.

Then suddenly, she settles her strong hands upon both of your arms “And If i showed you?” She was so gentle with your demeanor, treading lightly.

She wanted it just as bad, just like you.

Her breath fanning your lips causing you to hitch. A trembling hand reached out, your hand brushing Abby's cheek, her hands pulling you from your waist. A passionate kiss spun.

It was electric, your lips molding together, tongues dancing in a frantic exploration. Abby moaned into your mouth, your hands roaming loosely down to grip your neighbor's slender hips. You responded by pressing yourself against Abby, feeling the firmness of her breasts through both your clothes.

Kissing desperately, hungrily, as if starved for each other's touch. Breaking the kiss, Abby nibbled on your ear, a weak whisper falls from your lips, “I need you….” Muttering in between kisses.

“Bedroom’s upstairs.” You finish. Abby taps on the cheek of your ass, signaling you to jump into her embrace.

Stumbles and giggles to make your way upstairs and down the hall to your master bedroom. Abby pulled away from you, looking around the room, seeing the mixture of objects from your husband and your own.

In some way, the infidelity. It made it rapturous.

"Lie down," she ordered you, her voice suddenly husky and full of authority.

you obliged to her command happily, body thrumming with excitement. You watch her climb onto the bed, hovering above you and eyes pouring into your own; a mixture of lust and tenderness.

"You're so beautiful," Abby’s voice was low as her eyes ran up and down, running her hands down your body. Each streak feathered on from her fingers tickled your skin, squirming as you legs lock together.

You felt a fluttering in you stomach at the compliment. "So are you," You meeked shyly, a pink hue on your flustered in face. You were breathless as Abby began to kiss at your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Abby continued her slow exploration, trailing kisses down your body, pausing to nuzzle your breasts through your top. "I want to see all of you," she whispered, her hot breath fanning over your tempered skin.

Heart was pounding in your chest as you nodded. The feeling of her gentle but eager hands as she threw off your clothes, baring you inch by delicious inch.

She paused to appreciate each reveal. The swell of your perked breasts, the curves that dipped your body, and to the drag of your soaked panty down your legs.

Completely naked and to her taking, Abby took a moment to admire you. Her eyes ran down over every inch of your exposed-self, salivating at your glistening arousal. "Better than my dreams," she murmured, voice full of wonder.

Insatiably on the same side of a coin. You reached for Abby's top, eager to return the favor. You peeled the fabric away, revealing her lush breasts, nipples eager with the cool breeze with excitement. She metled into your touch as she kicked off her shorts.

It was your turn to admire everything you’ve awaited. Her body glistened under the dim lighting of your room. The way eyes smoldered with desire tranced you as she positioned herself between your thighs. Your needy slick center coarsed Abby’s head; hovering above and planting pecks on your thighs.

Abby leaned into you. The feeling of her mouth searing kisses on your delicate pussy and her thumb teasing the taut peak of your tits. Your back arched arched into her touch, moaning softly as you reveled in the sensation of finally being touched by another woman. By her.

You notice the way she took her time with you. She was observant with each twig and jolt that came from your body, savoring you. She sweetly elicited a series of delighted gasps and whimpers from you as she continued her descent, twirling her tongue around your clit and teasing you down to your folds.

You choked out a cry of shock, “Fuck-ah!" you seethed, your hands gripping your bed sheets. You could feel Abby chuckle softly as she relishing sucked on your puffy clit. You felt like you were on a cloud, feeling completely elevated.

“Gaah! Ab—Abby!” Your thighs tremble in her grasp, feet kicking into her back slightly at the new found pleasure. The jolt that coursed through you felt ferious with the feeling of her moist tongue. She made her way inside your folds, teasing your whet entrance.

Suddenly, you feel the tip of her tongue plunge inside you, “Abby! fuckk Abby!” You let out a throat-curling shriek. Each lick inside you was a push of boundaries.

Legs trembling, mouth fully-agape, back arched, tits begging to be touched, nails clawing into your sheets, and grinding into her face completely high off ecstasy. Everything was new to you. The sex, passion, and connection. A seventh heaven.

Just as quick as the erotic came; it left. She pulled away from your eager pussy and anticipated body causing your back to drop and pant breathlessly.

"Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your sensitive folds.

She continued her slow exploration, indulging her tongue as her fingers dance along the skin of your blimped thighs. Your breath hitched as you were dying of anticipation for her touch, her tongue.

Finally, fucking two fingers into you as she paid attention to your clit. Your deplore was sensuous, another train of cries and whines falling from your drooled lips.

Everything Abby did made you feel absolutely desired. Another thing, your husband could never do.

"You're so wet," Abby praises through her slurps and swallows of your leaking lithe. Abby’s fingers thrust forward, pushing in every inch of herself.

Her eyes darken as they watch themselves get squeezed in by your soppy fuzzed beneath. "So beautiful," she marvels, not getting enough of you.

"Don’t stop! please!”

Her thick fingers curl upward, she stroked your walls with her tips. She enjoys every moment of your writhing. Abby could live in this moment forever.

She smiled as your hips bucked up, chasing after every sensation. "So responsive," she purred, before adding a third thick finger inside you. she stretched you out completely, feeling every bit as your hands tugged onto her blonde hair.

She pulled her fingers out alight from so deep, dragging her tongue down once more your slick folds and lapping up your essence.

"Oh god!" Your moan gutteral and body thrashing against her and your bed. The tip of her fingers swirled inside softly, pressing onto your soft sex-gush.

An electrifying chilled jostled down to cramped hips as your stomach twisted blissfully. "Cum for me," she praises, working through your overwhelming orgasm.

Lewd spewls and ravenous chill flowed out and through you. Completely mind-fucked as you cream all over the tip of her fingers and tongue. Your body tightened like a coil, coating her with your sticky release with a final cry, "Oh, Abby!" As she cupped your leaking cum around her three fingers.

She brought them up to her lips, sucking them clean, releasing with a pop, and groan in delight. “You’re so fucking heavenly, taste it too.” She coos, crawling her way to meet your glowed and fucked out-self.

“Don’t tap out now, doll, I’m only getting started.”

Both of your integrity’s thrown out the door.

“This isn’t….” A pointless mumble left your lips, somewhat dawning the fact; You just cheated on your husband.

“They aren’t even here, right baby?”

a/n: ugh my slut ass probably gonna make another part 🤞🏼🐇

dolls-taglist̗̀:➛ @marsworlddd @cosmopolitanaut @elliewilliamsgirl3 @elliewilliamgfooc @graviewaviee @yourelliewillms @elliesgf1244 @deliriousrn @yondaimekazzy @moonyvs4 @tearouthearts @ride4els @colecassidysfav @theoraekenslover @localorphanage @starmoon333 @bready101

#𝐌𝐮ñ𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚’𝐬 ✒️#abby anderson #the last of us 2 #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #abby tlou2 #tlou2 x reader #abby anderson smut #the last of us fanfiction #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n

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byuntrash101 · 1 year ago

Text

what you deserve

soft dom!juyeon x f!reader x mean dom!hyunjae smut | mdni 4.2k your bf younghoon is just a dick... your best friends just want to show you what you deserve nsfw tags under the cut

slut shaming reader (hj calls her easy), lots of teasing, fingering (because have you seen juyeon's hands? gotta put those to use), begging, pet names (princess, doll, baby, kitten), praising, degradation (slut, whore), slight dumbification, nipple play, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (these stunts are performed by professionnals don't try this at home), spitroasting/eiffel tower, multiple orgasms (f), oral (m), creampie, double penetration, anal

a/n: would you believe me if i said it took 1 whole ass fucking year to finish this? (yes i started writing on the 1st October 22) (smh)

the boyz masterlist | navigation

Deep down you knew it wasn’t true. You knew Younghoon couldn’t be your soulmate. Most of the time he would ditch you to go hang out with his friends and not return your calls or texts for the whole night then turn up home completely drunk and smelling of an other woman's perfume, even if he denied it every time. So saying Younghoon wasn’t the best boyfriend was to say the least an understatement.

Deep down you knew that. You knew he didn’t really love you but just used you for entertainment purposes.

So why? Why? Did you still believe that little voice in your head? Despite the sleepless nights, despite the countless tears shed, despite the pain. You still believed you two had a chance, you still believed you could fix him…

But did you still love him?

“What are you doing?” the stern voice of Hyunjae erupted from beside you, sitting with you on the comfortable and cushioned couch, making you jump and hurriedly hide your screen from his scrutinizing eyes.

“Huh? Hmm… Nothing” you lied, quickly typing out the rest of your text to your boyfriend.

“She’s talking to Younghoon” Juyeon snitched, seated right at your other side, as he perfectly accomplished a dangerous maneuver with Princess Peach’s pink kart securing the first place right in front of Hyunjae.

Hyunjae groaned but you didn’t know if it was because he was certain to lose the race or if it was well… because of you.

“Y/N!” He shouted putting the controller down before even finishing the race.

Well… you knew now.

“I can’t believe you’re still with that fucking asshole” Hyunjae whistled through gritted teeth.

You knew Hyunjae despised Younghoon, hence why you were trying to hide away the screen from the eyes of your best friend. But as you turned the device the other way Juyeon snatched it from your hands.

“What did she send ?” Hyunjae avidly asked.

“Please don’t read it” you asked Juyeon, pleading eyes bordering on begging to preserve the ridiculous trace amount of pride you had left and not read yet another text in which you bent over backwards for your ungrateful boyfriend.

“I’m not gonna read it” Juyeon declared. You exhaled in relief while Hyunjae scoffed. “But I am going to take it away for the rest of the night”.

“What? Please give it back” you tried to reach for it but Juyeon was way taller and had longer arms there was no way you would be able to take it back from him.

“No. Just enjoy a fun gaming night with us. Okay?” Juyeon smiled at you with that adorable eye smile that you’ve been unable to say no to since middle school.

“Fine”

You played a little more Mario Kart but it was as if the atmosphere had changed.

“Can I ask you something ?” Juyeon finally asked.

There he goes again… You thought.

The three of you were best friends for almost as long as you could remember and you knew them like the back of your hands.

When something awkward like that happened Hyunjae and yourself would rather ignore it and you would give each other time to forgive and forget but not Juyeon. He would just bluntly speak his truth.

“Sure” you said as you paused the game and Hyunjae groaned again.

“Why him?” Juyeon asked, putting his phone down. You sighed in annoyance and the

question.

“I don’t know, Juyeon, OK? I don't know why I love him.” You said as you rubbed your aching temple.

“You can do so much better though!” He protested while Hyunjae looked at you with stern eyes.

“You deserve someone that’s going to be thoughtful and kind” Juyeon almost whispered with his deep voice, bringing the back of his hand to your cheek.

With this simple touch the atmosphere had changed again. Juyeon’s cat-like eyes fixed on your lips, leaning dangerously as you felt his warm reassuring touch on your cheek. It felt safe and somehow you didn’t have it in you to pull away.

“Someone like me? Maybe?” he murmured, his lips grazing yours. He paused right there. Giving you one last chance to pull away, to remain faithful to your morals but… how could you? You felt the heat radiating from his face and his soft breath fanning your cheeks. You didn’t want him to stop.

So he leaned in to close the distance between your lips and finally kissed you. The electric charge from the thrill of kissing your best friend traveled from your lips all the way down to your core, making your guts stir in excitement.

Juyeon’s hand moved from your cheek to your nape to gently press your lips further onto his own, slightly parting them to let his tongue lap at yours. Heat pulled in your lower stomach while your eyelids fluttered close, losing yourself in this kiss. Juyeon’s large palm sliding up your thigh as he kissed you softly.

“Right, my princess? “ he whispered, breaking the kiss, leaving your lips yearning for more, you nodded, looking at him through your lashes when you heard Hyunjae scoff behind you.

The brief sound brought you back to reality. You whipped your head to your side where you are greeted by the icy cold gaze of the older one, eyeing you scornfully.

“You’re wasting your time” he said, maintaining the unwavering eye contact. “She doesn’t care about this…” he brought his hand to your cheek caressing slightly before he shifted to entangle his slender fingers around your hair “She only likes pain” he said before suddenly giving a quick and sharp pull, ripping from your lips a surprised whimper, which made Hyunjae smirk evilly.

“I knew it” he whispered, bending over you and pressing his hot lips to your cheek. "You only yearn to be treated like the little whore that you are. You want to be my little slut. Want me to hurt you, huh?" he said before he used your hair again to make you turn your head, breaking your neck into position and crashing his lips onto yours. The difference with Juyeon was blatant, overwhelming even. Hyunjae was devouring you. It was clear he wasn’t intending to ask for anything. He was demanding, he was taking what was his. And you were ready to give it all up to him… To them.

You felt Juyeon’s rough hands wrap around your waist from behind while he planted soft kisses and bites from your nape to your ear. Licking and nibbling around it while you felt his hands make quick work of rolling up your skirt past your waist line. You gasped when his large palm brushed against the thin skin of your inner thigh which Hyunjae saw as an opportunity to kiss you even deeper as you moaned into his mouth.

“Spread your legs for me, doll” Juyeon cooed, lips still pressed to the wet patch of skin on your neck. “Good girl” he praised when you did. His large palm brushed over your clothed center and you arched your back in an unpremeditated reflex, pushing your hips forward onto the older man. You felt Hyunjae’s lips pull into a sly smirk.

“Really?” he said, breaking the kiss “Already offering yourself like this?” he chuckled. "You're so fucking easy. Anyone could get it with you"

You whimpered and squirmed in embarrassment but kept your legs wide open nonetheless, which Hyunjae didn’t fail to notice. He scoffed.

“What a little slut you are” he drew back, eyes sweeping across your whole figure to finally settle on your most private part.

When Juyeon finally pushed your panties to the side and let the living room ceiling light shine directly on your center you felt like you were going to faint from the adrenaline rapidly rushing to your brain, making your breath itch in your throat. Hyunjae caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Look at that we barely even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Hyunjae spat with one cocked eyebrow, peering at your slicked and glistening folds with disdain.

You opened your mouth to talk back, to defend yourself but you could only deeply sigh in bliss as Juyeon's rough hand brushed against your unclothed bundle of nerves. And it was only then that you realized how right Hyunjae was and how wet you actually were.

Your wetness had soaked through the panties and was nearly dripping down to the floor. Juyeon had no trouble gathering and spreading it all over you. He gently and slowly circled your swollen nub, teasing it, lewd wet and squelching sounds erupting from the shameless act. Making you inexorably wetter and hungry for more.

He kept teasing you slowly as he laid wet kisses on the side of your neck, heavily breathing into your ear while Hyunjae palmed his hard member through his tighter-than-ever pants thoroughly enjoying you being spread in full display for him.

After what felt like hours of teasing you finally gathered the courage to protest in the form of a tiny high pitched whimper.

“What's wrong, my baby?” Juyeon huffed into your ear before sucking on your lobe, the heat from his mouth raised goosebumps on your skin.

“Please” you mustered, barely above a whisper.

“Please what?” he asked as you felt his lips on your neck being pulled into a smirk.

“Please I want your fingers inside me” you murmured as if you almost didn’t want the words you were speaking to actually be heard but to no avail. Both of your best friends heard you clear as day.

“Pathetic” Hyunjae said as he seemed to be palming himself with more pressure, looking anything but displeased.

“Anything for you, my princess” Juyeon cooed and immediately sunk his middle finger inside you, a disproportionately large palm resting over your mound. He circled his finger deep inside and you felt his blunt nail graze on your g spot which made you whimper and throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder.

The dull pleasure was making your head spin so much that you didn’t even hear when Hyunjae unzipped his jeans and slipped out of his boxers.

“Yeah finger fuck her. I’ll fuck her throat” he scoffed while he approached you, hard dick in hand. “Come here” he said as he forcefully pulled you towards him. The hot tip pressed against your closed mouth and precum glazed your bottom lip.

As if the stars aligned, at the exact same time as Hyunjae pushed his cock past your lips Juyeon slipped a second finger inside you, thick and long fingers stretching you out so perfectly. You moaned as Hyunjae slipped inside you, his taste spreading on your tongue, adding even more fuzz to your already foggy thoughts.

“Fuck” he said under his breath, grabbing a fistfull of your hair, bending your neck backwards and forcing you to look up at him. The pain on your scalp took your mind off the rising pleasure Juyeon was inflicting on you and you looked up at the older male with teary eyes while he kept on pushing his dick inside your wet mouth until he had to force the last couple of centimeters down your throat. And he stayed there. Look down at you as you choked on his length.

“Such a good girl for us. You take him so well, baby” Juyeon praised you as he picked up the pace, making your eyes roll back. “So pretty all stretched out and wet for us.”

“Keep your mouth open” Hyunjae whispered before finally pulling out to let you have a quick breather before he smashed his hips back into your face, setting a rapid rhythm. The burning sensation in your throat made your heart race and as Juyeon was having his way with you, circling and flicking your clit you felt the precious build up of your release forming in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck” Hyunjae groaned as he kept on the furious pace. “It’s like this mouth was made for me. Perfectly fitted little cocksleeve” he tugged at your hair again, making you moan on his length.

You almost lost your mind when Juyeon brought his second hand to circle your clit as the other one was still pumping in and out of you. Your muffled moans grew louder on Hyunjae’s cock, the vibrations making him shiver.

“Baby you’re so tight” Juyeon murmured in your hot ear. “You wanna cum?” he asked, slipping a third finger inside you and you almost came on the spot as you were deliciously stretched out top and bottom by your best friends. “You can cum, kitten.”

It’s the only thing you needed as your body was waiting for this command to immediately let go of the knot. You quivered and moaned, while your jaw went lax around Hyunjae. Your center tightly gripping on Juyeon’s digits, desperate to ever let them go. Twitching and spasming in delicious bliss.

“Good girl” Juyeon cooed as he gradually slowed down allowing you to ride off your high at your own speed.

“I can’t believe you fucking came already.” Hyunjae spat at you with mean eyes as he pulled his cock from your agape mouth, you took a deep breath and sighed in bliss.

But you looked down when you felt two hands going up your thighs and you were met with Hyunjae’s glacial eyes.

“You won’t need that anymore” without a heads up he tore away your panties, ripping them to shreds with a grunt as you gasped in surprise. “I want to know how this little pussy feels like” he whispered through gritted teeth, eyeing you like candy, avid hands pulling at your hips to bring you closer to the edge on the couch. In some kind of protective reflex you wanted to close your legs but Juyeon hands that were still glistening with your wetness kept them open.

“Can you be a good girl for us and keep your legs nice and spread like this?” his deep voice asked softly. The tone was soft, slightly contrasting with the strong grasp on both your thighs.

You nodded.

“Good girl”

Hyunjae didn't wait for a second. He brought his scolding hot tip to your folds and glazed himself into your juices, thoroughly coating his length as he pumped his fist around it a couple of times before pushing the tip in.

Immediately your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your arch your back into the couch, biting your bottom lip trying not to moan. That attempt turned out to be a failure as Hyunjae progressed inside your wet heat. When he bottomed out you let out a small cry of pleasure. As Juyeon felt your thighs twitch lightly he withdrew his hands to bring them up to your chest and kneed your breasts. His large hands lifted your top and pulled on your bra releasing your beautiful tits which made Hyunjae grunt as he fucked himself inside your cunt. Juyeon’s big palm laid over the two lumps of sensitive flesh and worked them gently, his fingers curling around your nipples to roll them around.

“So pretty, baby” Juyeon cooed into your ear, looking over your shoulder at how your tits bounced every time Hyunjae drilled his cock into you. Juyeon can’t take it anymore, he also wants to know how you feel around him and you feel him slip from behind you. You instantly miss his warm hands over your body. But the disappointment is short-lived. Because you feel his hand softly wrap around your jaw, pulling your face to look up at him. Your gaze quickly dropped from his gentle eyes to his thick cock laying heavily in his hands as he pumped himself a couple of times approaching the wet tip to your lips.

Instinctively your lips parted to let your tongue swipe and have a taste of his essence. Which made Juyeon hiss in pleasure, fist growing stronger around his cock, making the veins of his forearm pop. He drove his cock into your mouth, earning a low grunt from him. You lips painfully stretched to accommodate to Juyeon’s girth.

“Fuckk” he cursed under his breath. “Such a good girl taking my cock like this”. He said wrapping his long fingers around your nape, giving you an encouraging push. You didn’t need more to quicken your pace, gobbling his cock as far as you could manage without hesitation.

“What a fucking whore” Hyunjae grunted as he gave you one particularly strong thrust, the sharp pleasure making you moan on Juyeon’s length. “You love cock so much? Look at you swallowing his cock like it’s your only goal in life?” He picked up the pace smashing his hips into yours. Your attention switching from Juyeon to Hyunjae. “Is that it? Your only goal is to be filled with cocks?”

“Phhfuckk” you attempted to say, your mouth full to the brim.

“So pretty baby.” Juyeon cooed as he started to thrust into your mouth when your attention got diverted. “So pretty full of cocks”

The coil in your guts tightened again as your gaze fluttered between Jueyon’s soft smile and Hyunjae’s mean eyes. Once again close to the edge.

“Keep going. She’s going to cum” Juyeon said to his friend. Not daring to take his eyes off your wet ones. Hyunjae scoffed.

“Again?” he said, gripping your thighs tighter and drilling his cock into you harder as he felt your cunt clamp around him, dangerously fluttering. “Go ahead and cum. It’s all you’re good for.” he said, one hand leaving your thigh to slap against your cunt. The pain made you choke on Juyeon.

“Fuck” he grunted while you mumbled intelligibly, earning another slap before Hyunjae started to draw small and quick circles on your swollen and painful little clit.

That made you cross the edge again. Your body shook against Hyunjae’s relentless hips. Your pussy clenching around him and fluttering in delicious and intoxicating pleasure. Screams of bliss muffled by Juyeon’s length, making him shiver, bucking his hips into your mouth a little harsher.

Hyunjae pulled out quickly and wanted to stuff you back but was interrupted by Juyeon.

“Come on man, it’s my turn now” Juyeon said, taking his dick out of your mouth, letting you take deep breaths as you slowly came down from your high.

“Fine” Hyunjae spat as he got out of between your legs. “I was almost done” he mumbled.

Juyeon sat beside you on the couch once again he looked at you and patted his thighs.

“Ride me baby” he said and you immediately hopped on his lap. Your tits shoved in his face he took a deep breath, letting his brain be soaked with the pheromone filled smell of sex that was imprinted into your sweaty skin.

You took his length between your fingers and pumped a couple of times before you sunk your hips into his cock.

“Ffffuck” Juyeon sighed, before licking a big stripe between your tits, collecting the glistening sweat.

Hyunjae didn’t miss one second of the show. He pumped his cock as he watched you bounce on his friend’s cock. Looking attentively at the way your pussy spread wide to take him in, spitting him out covered with your slick, all of that forming a beautiful soundtrack of moans, grunts and squelching wet sounds.

Hyunjae kept on fisting his rock hard and dripping cock as the same rhythm as you lifted your hips and let them smash back down.

“How is it in there, dude?” he asked Juyeon.

“F-fucking great” he responded not taking your tits out his mouth.

“Yeah I know. Slutty cunts are the best. Because they just suit anyone.” He said letting his free hand slap your ass. Making you arch your back and bounce even harder. A silent plea for more. And it’s exactly what you got. “And this one she’s one real easy whore. Letting anyone fuck her raw” He spanked your ass again, even harder this times, leaving a beautiful print behind on your skin. “Isn’t it right, slut?”

“Yesssss!!!!” you panted, bouncing even harder, the familiar build up heating up in your guts again, Juyeon’s large hands gripping the underside of your thighs and aiding you bounce on him while he muffled his moans in your chest. “I’m a slut a real fucking whore for you. I love both your cocks so much”

“Is that so?” Hyunjae said, tilting his head, his lips being pulled in a sly smirk as an idea blossomed in his lust soaked mind.

He approached his tip to your ass, rubbing his hard-on on your cheeks. Before leaning over and spitting a big wad right into your pucker. Making the hole blink.

“Since you love our cock so much. You don’t mind me taking your ass, right?” he said pressing his tip still wet with your slick into your only available hole.

“Oh G-god” you chocked when you felt your ass being spread open.

“Please” Hyunjae chuckled still pushing inside you. “Just call me Hyunjae” he said cockily as he pushed the last inch into your bottomless hole.

“Fuckkk it feels so good” he cried out stopping your hips, your nails digging into Juyeon’s shoulders, urging him to fuck up into your cunt. He did so immediately. His dick grazing against Hyunjae’s inside your ass.

“Fuckk” the older one hissed when he felt the coming and going of his friend through the small membrane that separated both your holes.

He started to fuck into your asshole as soon as you looked accustomed to him. He loved to watch the way your asshole dragged into his cock every time he pulled out just to welcome him back into your warmth once he pushed back in.

“Fuck baby you’re so good to us” Juyeon as lightly tugging at your erect nipple with his teeth. “So pretty for us. So fucking good.” He panted fucking his hips uo into you, making your pussy cream around him, wet sounds bouncing of the walls.

He was so close. So fucking close he could taste it.

“Fuck kitten. I’m going to cum soon” he said, grip growing stronger on your thighs.

“Yeah please. Please!! Please fill me up!” you urged when you felt another slap into your ass.

“What a filthy fucking slut begging for cum like that” Hyunjae groaned. “Want mine too whore?”

“Yees fuck please. yesyesyesyesyes!!!” you chanted, feeling both of your holes grip around the cock that were both plowing into you, rearranging your guts so deliciously.

“Then fucking take it” Hyunjae says slipping his hand into your hair and pulling harshly. Letting his cock pump your ass full of tasty hot cum, his hips absolutely rutting into your ass, grunting and moaning. So much so that it made the cum spill out and drip on his friend's cock. But both of them couldn’t care less.

“Fuck baby. ‘m- c-” Juyeon can’t even bring himself to make full sentences and follows right after Hyunjae. You feel his enormous cock twitch inside you, delivering an ungodly amount of white hot cum right in the deepest part of you, if it wasn’t for the pill you were taking you’d be sure to be knocked up right away. His dick brush again against your soft spot and the way you feel both your holes filled with cum make you tip over the edge. And you find yourself squirting all over both their dicks in a pleasure filled scream. Your juices spray out of you in big streams, completely soaking Juyeon laid under you which makes his hips stutter a little. This orgasm is the most intense one of the night, making both your holes flutter. Your cunt clenching around Juyeon and your asshole blinking around Hyunjae while you pant and moan in complete euphoria.

The next few instants are a blur. None of you speak, only pants and sighs can be heard. All three of you, piled up on top of each other, drained and content. But the blissful silence is interrupted by the low vibrations of a phone..

A phone? your phone!

Juyeon haphazardly reaches into the pocket of his jeans laying somewhere near and holds the device to you.

You have dozens of unread texts from Younghoon and even more missed calls. Poor thing… he’s not used to you going silent on him. Not his precious and naive girlfriend.

You pushed your messy hair out of your face and picked up the call.

“Yeah?” you say voice sounding a little rough, nothing surprising given the things that were just in your mouth and roughing up your throat.

“What the fuck are you doing? Why aren't you answering my texts?” Younghoon asks, panic seeping in his rushed voice.

Hyunjae chuckled coldly behind you.

“Come cuddle, baby.” Juyeon said, pouting so much it was audible.

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT???? Y/N??? IS THAT JUYEON???”

“Hmmmm” you hesitated before Hyunjae snatched the phone from behind you.

“You guys are done. Don’t call her again”

“WHAT THE F-”

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forlix · 1 year ago

Text

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?”

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path.

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.”

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there.

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.”

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour.

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

“Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?”

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall.

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze.

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter.

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds.

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session.

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete.

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person.

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe.

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels.

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you.

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand.

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system.

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod.

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?”

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane.

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

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e-nonsense · 11 days ago

Note

heyy, hope you are doing well and congrats on 2k🫶🫶 can i order peonies with lace and string with a little bit of burlap? for the note, logan and reader have been like fwb for a while (and everybody knows) yet logan is always flirting w jean— the rest is up to you!!

I’LL BE BETTER

pairing. logan howlett x fem!reader

warning. no use of y/n instead logan calls her peach, make up sex, unfinished

you didn’t understand him. he’d be friendly with you when she wasn’t around, but the second jean entered he’d give you the cold shoulder.

pretending that you weren’t anything more than a fuck buddy. it was pissing you off, were you just jean’s replacement? something he could play with in her place.

he knew he could never have her. she treats him the way he treats you, something to have when she can’t get what she wants.

you tried not to think about it. you and logan are nothing more than that. friends who happen to sleep with each other every now and then.

so why’d he always get mad when you’d hang out with another guy, or hell even storm.

dragging you away whenever he could fuck you quickly like horny teenagers. you felt used, because that’s what he’s been doing right? using you.

this had to stop. it was hurting you more than it should’ve, it was supposed to be innocent — as innocent as sex with your close friend could be — fun.

“stop it logan.” you pushed him away from you, stepping back when he tried to reach for you again.

“what?” his brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”

you hated that look, the foreign soft care in his hazel eyes as he watched you.

“i don’t want to do this anymore.” you murmur.

“why not?” he asks, “don’t look away from me, peach. tell me why.”

your bottom lip trembled in a way he hated, he knew this was his fault. he was messing with you, putting you second to jean because he couldn’t get over her. you were the perfect girl.

pretty, and kind, sweet in every way he needed. you looked out for him, took care of him. jean didn’t do any of that for him. so why did he keep hurting you?

“i’m sorry, peach. really i am.”

you shook your head as you turned away from him, you deserved better. he let you go, watched as you walked away from him, up until you turned a corner and escaped his eye line. he stayed there frozen until he couldn’t smell you anymore.

he had to fix this.

step 1: find jean

he found her in the lab later that same day, he hated the way he was drawn to her immediately. moving to her side instantly. “hey.”

“logan,” jean smiled at him turning her head to look up at him.

“we need to talk.”

“about?” jean asked, tilting her head curiously.

“this. you, me, us.” logan says, “whatever this is. it needs to stop.”

jean has scott, she doesn’t need to keep leading him on. “oh, of course.” she smiled, though it didn’t meet her eyes, she knew she was in the wrong, leading another man on while very much engaged to scott. maybe she just liked the attention, the fact that someone else wanted her too.

“i hate to do this to you, but i don’t need this. peach she—”

“you like her.” jean notes.

he nods, “i do.”

“i’m sorry logan,” she says as he turns around.

“i know.”

he takes his leave, the door sliding closed behind him as he walked. thinking about what he’d say to you now.

step 2: apologise to you

apologies had never been logan’s strong suit, with the life he’s lived, there’s been no time for regrets. but he’d try, for you.

logan’s fist came down against your door, knocking twice, a signal to you that its him. “hey peach… can we talk?”

no answer.

“peach, i’m sorry. really i am, i didn’t mean to put you in that position. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

the knob on your twisted, and he could see you peeking up at him from the crack. “can i come in?”

you nodded, opening your door further, enough for him to step through. he noticed the dried tears on your cheeks and the puffy redness to your eyes, you seemed to have fallen asleep like that, in his big shirt.

you close the door behind you, leaving you open to his hug. he grabs you before you can run, hugging you tightly to his chest.

“how can i make it up t’ya? i’ll anything for you, peach.”

“can we lie down?” you ask, before adding “together?”

he doesn’t reply, instead lifting you up and carrying you to the bed, he lays down on his back, letting you cuddle up on top of him.

cuddling turns into something more, you can’t find it in you to stop. he’d innocently pressed a kiss to your neck, something to just reassure you then you’d started exchanging kisses.

it started innocently, kisses to just show the care you had for one another. then he smelt your arousal, letting out a low groan before he rolled over so he could cage you under him.

“tell me you want this, peach.”

“want this, i want you.”

“good girl.”

extending a single claw, he cut through your — his shirt.

“logan!”

“hmm? i’ll give you another one.”

his hand slid down your body as he met your lips in a kiss, gentler than the ones he’d normally give you. his fingers moved over your white cotton panties, he could feel your dripping arousal coating them.

“you’re so wet, i thought you were hating me.” he couldn’t help, really. whenever he got the chance to be a smug bastard he’d take it.

“fuck off,” you mutter, he chuckled at your grumpy response while he pulled your panties to the side with two fingers, running his ring finger through your pretty folds.

“i’d rather fuck you,” he grinned, pulling your panties down your legs before unbuckling his belt.

and he did. he fucked you hard and good, whispering apologies into your ear as he did, kisses trailing down you neck. you wondered how someone could fuck your brains out and make you feel loved at the same time, but logan was a complicated man.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #2k followers celebration #[📮] asks #enzo writes [📝]

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 3 months ago

Text

Peach Part 1 of 2 (Rafe Cameron Two Shot) +18

+ 18 Minor DNI

CollegeStudent!Rafe x Ward’sSugarBaby!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

📖 Rafe has a thing for his dad’s sugar baby (reader)

🪄 Warnings: somnophilia (lol), secluded yet public oral, cheating, swearing, degradation, name-calling, pet names, oral (fem. receiving), oral (male receiving), ownership kink, reader’s a sugar baby, rough sex, nipple play, choking, creampie, & cum play, no use of y/n but everyone refers to her as the pet name Peach, softish rafe but he’s kinda mean here and ther

✨ Fuck, she’s arm candy – the perfect little accessory for my old man. And he’s lovin’ every second of the attention he’s pullin’ from every ancient perv here. This has got to be some mind-numbing shit for her. She gives one of the old men a fake giggle, resting her small manicured hand on my dad’s breast pocket, her head softening on his shoulder. With that I feel a little spark in me… something I haven’t felt in a while. Jealousy? Maybe. Not for long at least. I pull my phone out of my pocket, sending an invitation. ✨

Reader’s POV:

“I mean it is a little much for Midsommers, Peach, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Ward gives you a cheeky smile as he unwinds a little more on the dressing room couch, eyes combing over your curves from the reflection of the mirror. “I love dressing you up, princess. Love showing off my little doll around the fellas. Can you blame me? You’re flawless.” He winks and smiles as he lifts his champagne flute to his lips, taking a sip.

“Thank you. I love it,” you praise, running your hands down the delicate black satin, purposely running over the fullness of your breasts, guiding his focus off your eyes. “I think this will go really well with those black Jimmy Choo pumps you bought me.”

Ward smiles and shakes his head ‘no’ as he crosses his strong arms over his chest. “Do you think I’m going let you re-wear a pair of date night heels, baby? We need to buy you somethin’ new. You deserve it. Very sweet for you to be mindful of Daddy’s pocket,” he lauds as he taps the wallet tucked into the pocket of his designer blazer. “That’s just one of the many, many reasons you have my heart, sugar,” Ward mumbles as he rises to his feet, eyes trained on your body. “That, and the fact that I just can’t believe you’re mine,” he mumbles before his lips meet your neck, kissing gently as he works his way to your ear. “I love takin’ care of you.” You tip your head slightly, resting your cheek against his, the two of you matching each other’s gaze in the mirror.

“We look good together, Cameron,” you coo. He wraps his arms around you, kissing your bare shoulder before resting his chin on top.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, Peach. This looks so pretty on you. You’re stunning. You probably need something just as pretty underneath. Don’t you agree?”

You nuzzle into his cheek, making him chuckle warmly. “You spoil me, daddy… Of course, I agree. Something pretty you can take off me later,” you flirt, just stoking the fire.

“Baby girl…” He gushes, the apples of his cheeks reddening.

“Sorry… I can’t help it.”

“No, baby. I love it. Oh, I booked a hair and nail appointment for you, so I won’t see you until you arrive. I have to be at the Island Club a little early. You can just catch a ride with Rafe. I’ll meet you at the car and we can walk in together. Alright?”

You fix your face, trying your best to seem unfazed by even the mere mention of his son’s name.

Rafe Cameron…

Truthfully, I was about to make my move during parents’ weekend. Then, I laid eyes on Ward. Rafe’s old man… handsome, sweet, thoughtful. It was too hard to pass up the chance to be taken care of. And, taken care of I was. Student loan debt canceled, school-year paid in cash, trips, lavish dinners, anything and everything his little Peach wants she gets. But even with all of that, I can’t help but be drawn to Rafe. I still get butterflies when he passes me on his way to class or when he looks my way in the library.

Even after I got with Ward I’d still try to finagle my way into staying on campus for the weekend so I could hit up a house party or bump into him at the bar. Ward made sure that didn’t happen, pleading with me to spend most of my free time at Tanneyhill. Ward is so sweet when he begs. And, how can I possibly deny the man cutting the checks?

“Peach? Is that okay? He seemed pretty happy about getting to know you a little better,” Ward smiles as he fixes the strap of your gown.

“No, Daddy. It’s perfect.”

You look down at the vanity, watching your phone buzz. Your heart skips a beat as you see his name written across it, causing the usual butterflies to swirl. How would this play out? What would Rafe say?

To the rest of the family I was just some girl; maybe someone Ward picked up at the country club or some overpriced boutique downtown. Sarah and Wheezie were too unbothered to care. How would Rafe take this? Would he even recognize me?

The buzzing stops, pulling you out of your daze as you watch the incoming call shift to missed. Shit. Headlights beam outside as Rafe’s large truck rolls up the drive just as your phone dings. Voicemail – Rafe Cameron You lift the phone to your ear, hearing that familiar voice.

“Uhh… Peach? It’s Ward’s son, Rafe. I’m out front if you’re ready to head out. Don’t know if you need a few more minutes or whatever. Just let me know.” BEEP. The message ends, the eldest Cameron’s tone short and uninterested. Maybe he knows who I am and truly doesn’t care.

You look down at your body, wrapped in a pretty pink robe; dress still hanging up in the corner of Ward’s room. It had been a long day of shopping and pampering, leaving you late. The muffled sound of Rafe’s truck door kickstarts your heart. You unfasten the bow around your waist, letting the material fall off your body and onto a puddle on the floor as you hustle toward your gown.

You step into the number, stumbling slightly; looping the delicate straps over your shoulders before smoothing out the front.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Umm… One second, Rafe,” you call.

“Of course.” You hear his deep voice in person, making you suck in a nervous breath. Reaching behind your back you struggle for the zipper, craning your wrist to get it to close. “Uhh… You need some help in there?” Rafe asks, making your eyes widen as you stand in front of the mirror again, looking back at yourself dumbly.

Of course, I want his help. I’m sure if I struggle a little more I could get it to word. But do I want to?

“Rafe,” you call out his name, voice broken with nervousness. “I could use your help.”

Rafe’s POV:

What the actual fuck. I stand behind her, eyes falling down the length of her bare back to her open zipper. Nothing but soft skin and satin; the small zipper resting just below her g-string. I’ve gotta move slowly. No way I could step out from behind her like this. My hard-on pushes against my dress pants, straining the zipper. I let my fingers trail her skin ever so slightly, tugging the material together reluctantly before pulling it closed.

I had no idea it was going to be her when she accepted my offer… Lucky me.

“How are you, sweetheart,” I mumble from behind her, catching her gaze in the mirror.

“Umm… I’m good. How are you?” She asks sweetly.

“Great. I’m fine,” I hum, not moving from my place behind her, ambling a little closer. I can’t fucking help myself. Her lashes flutter at the closeness between the two of us. “Just came from campus.”

“Yeah? Umm… We go to the same school,” she starts, like I wasn’t painfully aware.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do. I know exactly who you are. And you and my dad are-”

“Dating?” She answers, her calm demeanor veiling her shame, just a sliver of it still peeking through. “No. We’re friends? Companions… I-”

I let out a raspy chuckle, saving her the strain as she flounder in front of me, panic painting her beautiful face. “Nah, Peach. I understand,” I smirk. She lifts her eyebrow, letting out an airy laugh herself. “He’s battin’ way out of his league with you. I must say.”

I lean in a little closer, letting the warmth of my voice fan across the column of her neck, making her head fall back slightly as she tilts closer. My large hands rest on her hips, all my primal urges pushing me to bend her over, hands on the glass, dress around her hips, my fat cock fucking in and out as I watch her go absolutely dumb on my dick. But I resist.

Why the fuck are you with Ward? You’re too beautiful… You’re only wasting your time with my old man. What is he givin’ you that I can’t? Money? Is that what you’re after, babydoll?

Good thing I have that too.

“Nice to see you, man,” Kelce smiles as he pulls me in for a half-hug, cutting off my view of her. I pull him to the side, giving me the perfect sightline.

Fuck, she’s arm candy – the perfect little accessory for my old man. And he’s lovin’ every second of the attention he’s pullin’ from every ancient perv here. This has got to be some mind-numbing shit for her. She gives one of the old men a fake giggle, resting her small manicured hand on my dad’s breast pocket, her head softening on his shoulder. With that I feel a little spark in me… something I haven’t felt in a while. Jealousy? Maybe. Not for long at least. I pull my phone out of my pocket, sending an invitation.

She looks down, eyeing her clutch as she feels the rumble of her phone. Her eyes lift, catching mine like she knows exactly what’s to come, without seeing the message at all. I give her a knowing nod as I stroll away.

In a room full of people she knows just where I am. She’s got her eye on me. Atta girl.

Reader’s POV

Well… if there was any question if that text was from Rafe or not that nod answered my question. My excitement leaves a steady pulse between my thighs as I try my best to act normally. He’s trying to get me alone.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” you whisper in Ward’s ear, kissing him gently on the cheek before wiping some sparkly gloss off his stubble. He gives you a little pat on your bum and a wink.

“Gonna finish up this conversation, Peach, and I’ll find you. M’Kay?” He hums. “15 minutes tops.”

“Of course,” you smile, nodding quickly before excusing yourself, nabbing out your phone as you step toward where Rafe was headed, rushing to read what he had to say.

Holy shit.

Your phone glows as you reread the text messages sent by Rafe wandering down the hallway as you take in each word, considering your options. Am I doing this? Should I turn him down? Let him know he read this all wrong? That he’s overstepping-

“There she is,” you hear his low voice from behind you. His large hand wraps around your arm, tugging you back fast, pulling you into the dark room before slamming the lock shut.

“Rafe?” You gasp just as his lips collide with yours, the two of you running high on adrenaline; teeth clashing, tongues rolling. Your long nails scratch through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him moan into your kiss as he backs you against the wooden door.

“Didn’t even take any convincing to get you back here, baby girl. What do you have to say for yourself?” He mumbles against your lips as he paws for the bottom of your dress, bunching it up higher and higher.

“Rafe. I-”

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, princess. You want me. I need you. Bet you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. You gonna let me check?” He rasps, catching your moans between his lips.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want,” he taunts as his lips brush yours, his rough fingers grazing the soaked spot on your panties.

“I want you, Rafe. I want your… Fuck. I want your fingers,” you whimper, starting small, knowing full-well he’ll talk you into more; just making yourself feel less guilty about the whole ordeal by asking for the bare minimum like that even matters.

“Just my fingers. Huh?” He teases. Not buying the angelic ruse for a moment. “You don’t want my lips, doll? You don’t need my cock?”

“Shit,” you whine as your legs draw together; his filthy words fillling you ear, drunk off the taste of his lips, just thinking about more. Rafe grips your thighs, opening you up further before pressing his fingers against your sex. Your head falls back, knocking softly against the door as a drawn-out moan tumbles from your lips.

“Did that get you a little excited?” He chuckles, darkly against your neck, licking and nipping at that special spot that has you whimpering like a pathetic slut.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I got excited, Rafe… I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you whisper.

“Mhmm… Haven’t stopped thinking about me and my fingers?” He bullies as he lifts you into his arms. You wrap yours around his neck, lessening the space between you further, your wetness surely transferring onto his white button-down as your legs wrap around his trim waist.

“Yeah,” you stammer, making Rafe suck his teeth and smile against your mouth.

“Stop trying to be a good girl, princess. I know what you are,” he growls. Your heart falls, breaking slightly as he hits you with the truth; Rafe opening his mouth before you can even defend yourself. “You want money… I want you. I can take care of you in more ways than one. I promise that. Got more money than him. I’m a better fuck. Let me prove it to you, angel. I know you’re a slut for cash alright. So am I. The game sees the game alright? But, you probably need proof… Let me fuck this pretty pussy, ma. Show you how much better off you’ll be with me. I wanna be your daddy. Aight? Not him. Not Ward. Rafe.”

You draw a deep breath, head spinning as he lays you back on the locker room couch. You claw for him, desperate for Rafe’s lips on you again. Rafe rips away your little lace panties, spreading your thighs before eyeing your glistening slit with a hungry groan. “Tell me what you want. You can speak. Can’t you?” He snaps impatiently as you fumble over your words. “Words.”

“You-”

“Fuck it. I can’t wait – need your pussy.”

“S-Shit,” you whine. “Just – Just your fingers Rafe…” He brushes your dripping folds with his thick digits, gathering your essence before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking them clean as his eyes roll back. “Let me eat you, baby. C’mon,” he pleads. You watch him wet his bottom lip, savoring the taste of whatever’s left of you.

“Damnit, Rafe. Your lips too… Fuck. Hurry. Your dad’s meeting me soon.”

“Little now. Little later,” he huffs as his strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, lowering you onto the cushion. Rafe’s gaze stays on yours as his lips latch on your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side.

He moans against your cunt as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing you with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him. “Enough of that,” he slurs, spreading your legs wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more muscle. “Can’t wait for you to suck my cock. Can’t wait to get you off,“ he mumbles against your heat. You look toward the door, watching a shadow pass underneath. The music blares from behind it. Is it loud enough? You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

“You taste like heaven, honey,” he pants, bumping his nose against your clit as his tongue dips into your hole. Rafe grabs your legs, slinging them over his broad shoulders, getting even closer. He laps at your pussy, devouring you. Rafe breathes deeply, taking in your scent, eyes shutting softly, the vibration of a moan felt against your cunt. He takes your clit in his mouth sucking hard, making you cry out, spiked heels digging into his strong back as you buck your hips.

“Fuck, Rafe. M’right there,” you blubber. You reach for your dress straps, tugging down the top, letting your tits bounce free. Your hands instantly draw up to your chest, clutching and pushing them together. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit, making you toss your head back. Strangled cries spills from your lips. Your hands drop down, weaving into his blonde fringe giving it a rough tug as you grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself wavering on the edge of bliss.

“Peach?” You hear Ward call from outside the door, making your eyes double in horror. Rafe doesn’t stop, increasing his pace even. His eyes flick to yours, solidifying the evident. He wants Ward to hear. Your hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your cries. Rafe reaches up, snatching your wrist as your body betrays you, eyes screwing shut at you cum on Rafe’s tongue, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you’re fully relaxed to release you with a panting breath. His mouth greets yours in a passionate kiss, cupping your breasts in his large hands. He pinches and rolls your nipples between his rough fingers before sucking down; trailing sweet kisses causing you to mewl.

“You’re mine,” Rafe whispers, nestling himself into your neck.

“Not… Fuck. Rafe, I’m not.”

“You are. Stop lyin’, princess. You know you are,” he subsists as he matches your eyes. “Lie to me and tell me that wasn’t the best you’ve ever had. I didn’t even use my dick, baby. Imagine what I could do. Huh? I know my old man isn’t doin’ any of this shit better than me.” You fight for air, looking away for a moment before he grabs your chin, demanding your focus. “Fuckin’ talk to me. Use those pretty little words that you’re holdin’ back. Enough with the games. It was painfully easy to get you in here. I know what you want-”

“Rafe… I don’t know-” Your phone vibrates, stealing your attention as well as Rafe’s as you watch back-to-back text messages come in from Ward.

Part 2

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detectivestucks · 9 months ago

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18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Yandere Tobi/Obito x F!Reader

Summery: Obito found you paying your respects to his memorial and an obsession with his first love's best friend blossoms. Soon he finds that he will do anything and everything to protect you, his delicate peach.

Warnings: Stalking, Violence, Kidnapping, Fingering, Nipple play, Unprotected Penetration, Virgin Reader, implied threat of suicide.

Word Count: 9.7k

Author's note: Yes, I know the timeline is a bit altered, it was a creative decision. Deal with it. :)

Itachi and Kisame remove their hats as they return to the hideout looking slightly worn out, presumably from battle. They had just finished scoping out the Leaf in search of the nine tails jinchuriki and Itachi’s little brother, Sasuke.

“Did everything go okay?” Pain asked

“Yes, we ran into my former captain.”

“Itachi had it covered but the copy ninja's annoying boyfriend started attacking and then some shinobi we couldn’t see sent shockwaves into the ground that sparked a small tsunami.”

“It was at that point we thought it best to retreat. We know the jinchuriki is still located inside the village. There was no need for further engagement.”

Obito felt his chest constrict. Shockwaves...he knew that jutsu. That was the trademark of Rin’s best friend. That was a jutsu unique to you. But you had left the village a long time ago. When had you come back?

Itachi being the only one among them who knew Tobi’s identity, quickly noticed the shift in Obito’s stance. The rest of the group, completely oblivious to the insignificant comic relief, did not notice as Obito exited the room and hurried towards the village.

Rather than scouring the Leaf hunting for you, he waited at the one spot he knew you’d come, the memorial yard. Sure enough it only took one evening to catch you bringing lilies to your best friend’s grave. Obito cried with you as you shed tears for your friend but then you did something he didn’t expect, you stopped at the memorial stone to pay your respects to him.

“Obito, I wish you knew how much I cared for you. You didn’t deserve what you got. You were too good for this world.” You dragged your fingertips along his name, tears streaming down your cheeks as you remembered the boy you loved as a child.

You…cared for him? He was… too good?

Obito felt a pang in his chest. You were just like her. So kind and sweet. Always seeing the best in people. Even poor retches like him. He wanted to thank you but he didn’t want to scare you. Instead he let curiosity get the better of him and followed you home. He watched you through the window as you did your nighttime routine. Seeing you at peace alone in your home brought him contentment. He snuck up to the window’s sill to catch a closer view as you got into bed and drifted to sleep. It brought him comfort to see you rest and he took that comfort with him as he finally returned to the hideout.

The next day, plans for tracking the other tailed beasts including the three tails had Obito feeling emotional. Itachi caught how stiff ‘Tobi’ stood during the conversation and soon after caught him leaving the hideout to go see you. He found you at the training grounds running drills with Kakashi’s team.

“Y/N-sensei, I wanna learn a new jutsu!”

“Now Naruto, I am under direct orders from Kakashi to work on chakra control drills with you three. A new jutsu will be no good if you don’t have a way to command the chakra to execute it.”

“When will Kakashi-sensei be better?”

“He’ll be better soon Sakura, don’t you worry.”

Obito sat in the trees watching you for a few hours until the jinchuriki kid was done pestering you. He was such a nuisance but you didn’t lose your patience even a little. The same could not be said about his teammates which seemed to only bring you amusement. When you were done you walked over to the memorial stone and gave your gratitude to your fallen comrades before heading home.

You were so much like her. Beautiful and sweet as a peach. The way you cared for and nurtured others, it took a hold of his heart. He could watch you all day and never get bored. You were his light in the darkness of the Akatsuki.

The next day he went out with his partner on their mission. While Deidara requested alone time so he didn’t need to suffer Tobi’s presence, Obito used kamui to visit you. Carefully watching from a distance till you fall asleep. Just like he did every time he visits you. Following the same ritual as before. He’d enter your home and play with your hair, stroking it as you slept. Some nights he would lay with you and breathe in your scent while you were none the wiser. It was in these moments that he knew he needed to protect you. His delicate little peach. No one in this cruel world would bruise you. He would make sure of it.

One evening while you were paying your respects to your friends, a jonin he didn’t recognize approached you. The man brushed your hip and backside and you pulled away as he asked you on a date. The audacity of the man to think of romance while you were mourning your lost comrades. You had told him no and he left but something told Obito it wasn’t over. This was clearly a man who needed to be stopped.

The next day the man came to you again and held your hips while he asked to take you on a date, a little more forcefully than before. You had declined his request once more and politely pushed his hands off of you before turning to walk away. He had called out to you but before he could say anything further Obito had dragged the man into his void. The shinobi looked around bewildered. Obito growled at him from behind his mask.

“The lady said no”

“Where the fuck am I?!”

“A place no one can hear you scream so don’t give me a reason to bring you back here.” If the man could see Obito’s face behind the mask he surely would’ve wet himself. But instead in a facade of bravery he hurls insults at Obito

“A fuckin coward relies on tricks. Be a man and show me your face.”

“My face is none of your business, as for tricks, I have none, just superior prowess.” Obito makes his voice thick and deep, tapping into Madara’s tone of intimidation. “If I see you bother her again it will be the last time you speak.”

His facade is broken and his throat bobs as he swallows his pride. “Fine, no pussy’s worth a fuckin death threat.”

“Good, now that we understand each other, you may go.”

Obito materializes the man back in the village while he teleports himself over to the tree outside of your home. He spots you walk up to your door and head inside. He yearned to be the one greeting you, welcoming you home, rather than outside in a tree. You should come home to his loving face, not a room of darkness.

Instead he waits till you are sound asleep to touch your hips where the other man had touched them. He replaced the man’s predatory touch with his loving one. You rolled into him, your subconscious nestling into his presence. He held you, almost falling asleep from your intoxicating pheromones as they lull him into a state of bliss. When he was sure you wouldn’t wake, he slipped his body out of your bed, replacing himself with a pillow as you searched for his comfort.

His thumb brushed over your forehead before he disappeared from your home. His beautiful peach ripe for the picking.

While masquerading around as Tobi, Obito couldn’t help but feel lonely and isolated. His thoughts of you began to consume his mind. Every opportunity he had to visit you, he took. He had disappeared so often that the Akatsuki almost forgot about him, not that they were complaining about taking a break from his annoying persona.

He noticed that you and Kakashi had become close. You were always assisting with his young team and visiting the cemetery together. Obito didn’t like this one bit. Kakashi would pluck his sweet peach from him. But he had to remind himself that Kakashi did keep you safe when you joined his team on missions. He took care of you when Obito could not. Though that didn’t dull his need to claim you, take you as his own. The feeling was intensifying, swelling every day.

He found himself hunting down every man who so much as looked at you. Kakashi was the only man who’s affection he let slide…even though he was the one who made him the most angry. Maybe it was his sentiment for his old friend. Maybe it was his fear of Kakashi’s skill. Either way, he let him be, not wanting to catch the copy ninja’s attention.

The remaining miscreants were hunted without mercy. Sometimes he couldn’t help the bloodshed that was inevitable. He was unable to restrain himself, when it came to his peach, there was no limit to what he would do to keep you safe. If they showed no remorse for their predatory stares and their greedy thoughts he would gladly hear them scream before stopping their hearts. A trail of blood secretly followed you but it was all in your delicate name.

He kept tabs on everything you did, especially when it came to your missions. He had to ensure your safety. Recently learning some of the details of one of your upcoming missions, he knew he’d have to keep special watch over you. It was a dangerous mission with Hidden Mist shinobi that had been under consideration to join his troupe. He couldn’t risk history repeating itself and no longer cared if Deidara or Itachi figured out what he had been doing with his spare time. Even though you would be joining Kakashi on this mission, it wasn’t a guarantee of your safety. He already knew that too well and he must protect his sweet peach at all costs.

He stalks your group as you travel through the woods, earning him a side eye from Kakashi who knew something was up but couldn’t quite pin his finger on who the lurker was. You asked him what was wrong but Kakashi refused to say anything, not wanting to tip off a watching Obito that he knew they were being followed.

Nice try Bakashi, but I already know your tricks.

Soon you came across your target. As predicted they put up quite a fight. You and Kakashi made a remarkable team fending them off. Your mission was to capture them for intel but the confrontation with the targets escalated to the point that elimination was deemed necessary. Obito was impressed by your strength. You took on three of them at once, knocking them down with your earth style shockwave. You manipulated the magnitude, where the earth would fracture, where it would cave in, and even where it would snap up. It was an impressive jutsu but it was not foolproof. He watched you closely, ready to intervene if it ever became too much. He watched you so closely that he hadn’t noticed the back up Mist shinobi that had been summoned. Kunai thrown from the trees flew at you as you went to weave more hand signs. You lept out of the way but still one caught your leg and the other grazed your thigh.

No.

Before Obito could even breathe he was in front of you, mangekyou in place, murder in the front of his mind. His stance was so protective, you didn’t doubt whose side this unknown stranger was on for a second. You simply pulled the kunai out of your leg allowing the blood to flow freely before going on the defensive.

When a second wave of backup came, you did what you could but you were overwhelmed. Kakashi and his team could not keep up with the stampede of attacks. The fear for your safety caused Obito to snap. He went on a homicidal rampage, annihilating the entire group with gruesome bloodshed, bringing both yourself and Kakashi to a halt.

In your stunned transe you didn’t catch the shinobi who snuck past your blind spot and stabbed you in the chest. When Obito turns to slice down the man he sees you clutching the kunai. In the span of a single heartbeat he dropped his weapon and pulled you into his void, bending over you in a state of panic.

He stole your body from the battlefield so quickly Kakashi almost missed it. Kakashi finished off the last of the Mist shinobi, making certain that the life of the man who attacked you would drain by his hand. He stood up in alarm asking Naruto and Sakura if they saw who the man was that took you away. Neither of them did and Kakashi instructed them to search the nearby area for you.

Obito’s hands shook over you as he went to remove the knife, holding pressure where it once had pricked you like a pincushion. You had no idea where you were or who this man was. You had just watched him slaughter nearly twenty men to protect you immediately before his abduction. You would have been terrified if you didn’t have a more pressing issue to tend to.

“My peach, how do I help?”

In your state of confusion you thought you misheard him. He must have you confused with someone else. You feel your consciousness begin to slip as you speak.

“Do you know…medical…ninjutsu?” it came out as a whisper.

“No” he whined

“Need…Sakura.”

“I can do that.”

Obito goes back to the scene of his crime. Bodies strewn all over the field. He felt accomplished to see them sprawled out and covered in red.

“Hey you, girl”

“Me?! What did you do with Y/N-sensei?!”

“She’s safe. You know medical ninjutsu?”

“Yeah”

“Meet me over there.”

She looked at the masked Obito with severe skepticism. He nodded at her and walked away, swirling out of sight as he did, stepping into his void to retrieve you.

He lifted you up, supporting under your shoulders and knees. He held you close, his entire body tense with worry but somehow gentle. He felt so warm as you were growing cold from your wounds. Despite the horrors you saw him commit, you laid your head against his chest as he carried you back outside to a sheltered spot behind a few trees and a bush where Sakura was waiting.

He laid you down and instructed Sakura to do what she had to while he eagerly watched. Sakura gave him sideways glances many times when she felt she could afford to risk the distraction. Who was this terrifying murderer? Why did he have a fixation with you? After twenty minutes Sakura lowered her hands, panting from the amount of chakra used.

“There.”

“She’s healed?”

She nods, “She’s healed. The major damage at least.”

“Thank you”

He scoops up your body and retreats back to his void as Skaura shouts at your disappearing figures.

You were out cold, resting for nearly a day when you woke up in a makeshift bed in a dark endless room filled with large gray blocks.

“Where am I?”

You scan your surroundings but it hurts too much to move. The mysterious masked man suddenly appears in the room causing you to jump, quickly followed by you grabbing your chest in pain.

“Careful Peach” he says as he rushes to your side, falling on his knees beside you.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” you inquire with eyes screwed shut in pain.

“Because you are my delicate Peach. I need to take care of you.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself just fine, thank you.” you say through clenched teeth, feeling the pain radiate over your entire chest. This man was clearly insane. Despite how he took care of you, you knew you were in danger.

“I wouldn’t call your current condition ‘just fine’, Peach.”

He feels your forehead, looking for signs of fever.

“Just who are you anyways?”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay.”

“It does matter. And I need to go back to my team, let them know I’m okay.”

“The girl knows you’re okay, she’ll tell them.”

“Yes, but I need to get back to them. I need to-”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Disbelief filled you, yet the earlier bells of warning were officially verified.

He looks at you and shakes his head. “No.”

You look at him stunned, fear swelling. You look around the dark empty space starting to wonder where the exit was.

“You’re not going back. They can’t protect you. I know that now. You will stay with me. Here.”

Stunned into silence you look up at him. You open your mouth and close it a few times before you finally say to him, “You can’t keep me here.”

“I can and I will.”

Obito watches as terrified anger blossoms on your face. You stand up in spite of the pain, searching for an exit. Glancing over your shoulder at him as you move further and further away, frantically peering behind every gray pillar and block.

“You won’t be able to leave on your own.” he calls to you. “Only I can teleport you in and out of here.”

“And where is here?” You say, walking back towards him with a guise of bravery.

“My void”

Your jaw fell open. “Your what?”

“My void. Only I have access to it using Kamui.”

Comprehension made your eyes flood with tears. You were trapped. A madman who just slaughtered a fleet of shinobi to save you has trapped you in another dimension to ‘keep you safe.’ You looked up at him pleading, “I want to go home. Let me go home.”

“I can’t…it’s not safe.”

“But my home, my friends, the village…”

“They will be fine without you.”

Starting to realize he was serious, you begin to plead. “At least let me tell them where I have gone. That way they don’t come looking for me. Let me say goodbye.”

“Peach, I can’t risk you running away. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He reaches out to pet your hair and you shy away from his touch.

The tears leak down your cheeks, feeling helpless. You walk away and sit down, turning away from the masked man, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your head against the tops of your knee caps.

Obito, feeling pain at seeing you so sad walks up and puts a hand on your shoulder, “It has to be this way Peach, I’m sorry.”

He leaves you alone to sulk. You would be fine. You would grow to accept things the way that they are. You would grow to love him in spite of how it started. It was all going to be okay.

When he left in a swirl you wept. You allowed your mind to panic and wander to all the terrifying possibilities. What was he going to do with you? Why was he obsessed with you? How were you going to get out of this?

The more your mind reeled the quieter your tears became. Eventually you collapsed back onto the ashen floor. As you lay there, staring up at the black ceiling of his void, exhaustion and sadness ebb you to sleep.

You wake up the next day to find a large chunk of your stuff from your home was suddenly in the void. He had made the effort to move your belongings to you, even bringing many of your most cherished items such as your favorite clothes, your favorite mug, the blanket you sleep with every night, and your photos of Obito and Rin.

How did this man know these would be the items you’d want most? How long had he been following you? You felt a shiver roll down your spine.

What you presume to be hours later, the masked man returns to check on you. He’s more timid than he was before. Approaching you carefully.

“Thank you” you say, looking at the floor, “for bringing me some of my stuff. I’m still pissed, and I’m not staying here, but I appreciate the effort.” You were terrified but you didn’t want him to know that. You were going to find a way out of this. You just had to figure out how to get out of this damned dimension first.

If only you could see the smile below his mask. Overwhelmed by how cute you are he pulls you into a hug. You’re stiff with terror but you feel his strong torso pushed up against your own and you can’t help the little part of you that is left breathless. It feels familiar and warm but you can’t place why.

“I love you Peach.” he says as he holds you in his arms, laying his head on top of your head. He was insane. You reply to him with a shaking voice,

“If you loved me you’d give me some windows instead of dreary slate abyss. I can’t even tell what time of day it is.”

“Sorry, voids don’t work that way, Peach.”

“Sorry, I guess being abducted is new to me.” you forced the sass into your tone. You were petrified but you needed a way out of here. You figured maybe you could manipulate his affection for you.

Obito winces at the word abduction. He prefers to think of it as protection

“What? You didn’t think I’d be okay with this, did you? That is the title of what this is.” You weren’t sure where this bravery came from but he was buying it.

“At least I’m not trying to poison you against your own clan, or acting as the architect to kill your childhood crush.” he said with a venom that made you believe he was speaking from experience but you were too focused on your own situation to care. Your false bravery turned into false anger.

“Sorry to steal the opportunity away from you but I don’t have much in the way of a clan and my childhood crush is already dead.”

His face snapped and locked onto yours. “What did you say?”

“I’m not repeating myself, I know you heard me the first time.”

You watched as his throat bobbed beneath his black mask. Why did that impact him so much? Who was this guy anyways? He acted like he had known you your whole life yet you only know him as a mask and tuft of hair.

“Who are you?”

He turned and walked away from you, “Someone long dead to you”

Well that didn’t answer any questions. If anything it brought up more.

“Well if you won’t tell me who you are, then tell me what to call you.”

“Currently the world knows me as Tobi.”’

“Do you want me to call you Tobi then?”

“No…”

“Then what do I call you?”

He paused. “I guess Tobi is fine.”

“Okay, well Tobi, I want to go home. I am not spending my life tucked inside this vault.”

“That’s out of the question.”

You inhale deeply. Acting skills front and center. “Then I guess my safety isn’t guaranteed.”

He glanced over, tilting his head, giving you a questioning look.

“Your top priority is my safety. I can think of a lot of ways to make myself unsafe all alone here in this little void of yours,” You taunt him with your words as your eyes dart around the room.

His blood boiled over. Were you really suggesting what he thought you were? And over some dumb sunlight?! His hands twitched by his side.

“Tobi, if you intend for this” you say pointing around the void, “to be the rest of my life, it will be a short one because I’m not doing it.” you cross your arms. Of course you weren’t actually suicidal but you were going to say anything to better your circumstances. He may be your psychotic captor but he seemed to have a weakness for your well being and you were going to pull at that thread till he unraveled.

He heaved a heavy sigh before grumbling. “Give me a day to figure it out.”

“And how will I know if it's been a day?! I can’t tell time without the sun or so much as a frickin watch!”

The theatrics were working.

“I’m sorry Peach, I’ll be back.”

He fled from the void with his tail between his legs. You let out a huge breath. How you were able to pull that stunt off was beyond you. Desperation breeds its own strength. You hoped with all your might when he came back it was to get you out of his little dimension.

You waited, having absolutely nothing to do. No books, no games, no radio, no food, no beverage…nothing.

You mind tortured you with thoughts. You wondered how everyone was back home, rejecting the demons of your subconscious telling you that you may never see them again.

I will find a way out of this.

You strolled around checking out what was behind all the gray boxes. Surprise, it was more gray boxes. You climbed each one, beginning to count them as you went. You were usually a very ambitious person but there was nothing to do. You began playing with your jutsu to see if it would work in a void. Update: it does. You brought an entire kilometer to rubble just for fun and treaded up the path you created to get some exercise. Then you jumped block to block, back to your little makeshift bedroom waiting for Tobi. Eventually you got tired so you made yourself ready for bed hoping that when you woke up he would be back with updated living arrangements.

*******************************************************

You turn over as you stir and nuzzle into a hand that is softly petting your hair.

“Good Morning Peach”

You stiffen before your eyes dart up to his. Mask of bravery back in place, you greet him. “Good morning Tobi.” He winces. He hates how the false moniker sounds coming from your mouth.

“I see you started destroying my void.”

“I was bored so I decided to train.”

A hearty chuckle left his throat. “I made arrangements but please understand I will not sound or behave like myself where we are going.”

“And why is that?”

“You will see eventually.”

“Oh boy, so glad you enlightened me.” you lay the sarcasm thick and it only makes him laugh more. Good, he finds you charming. You can work with this.

“I also want to warn you, we will be among rogue shinobi.”

“So your idea of keeping me safe is to have me live with the very people that I’ve been hunting. The very same people who want to kill me and my friends?”

“Yes, If you are among us, no one will bother you. If you remained in the village, you would be subject to their…missions.”

“Seems like stupid logic if you ask me.”

“Please trust me.”

“I don’t, but I don’t have a choice either.”

“At least you’re not dumb”

“Did you think I was?”

“Not even for a second.”

He grabbed your hand with his strong possessive one. Something about the way your palm fit in his felt right. You weren’t sure why but that was the signal your brain sent your hand when you gripped it tighter. A psychopath whose hand you were holding. Great, you’ve completely lost your marbles a mere three days into captivity.

Next thing you knew you could smell the air of the earth again, you could see the shadows left by the sun, happiness washed over you in a visible way and Tobi’s fingers slid between yours upon seeing your reaction. He pulled you into another hug, he seems to always be hugging you. It’s like he’s forcing you to get used to him. “I will be this person when we are alone. I will be another when the others are around. You understand?”

You nod your head worried about what he could possibly mean? What kind of a monster is he around this gang of thugs that he needs to warn you?

He removes his hand from yours and places it between your shoulder blades pushing you towards a cavern. A man with orange hair, purple eyes and many piercings looks you up and down as you enter.

“Tobi, this is her?”

“Yes Pain! This is the hostage I spoke about!” His voice was comically high pitched and he sounded like a child. You tried your hardest not to react but it was just so different from what you were expecting.

“Put her in the dungeon.”

“Well sir, remember I requested she stay in my room, sir?!”

“Yes but she’s a hostage, who will stop her from escaping?”

“Do you really think she’s dumb enough to try and leave the hideout of the Akatsuki?”

Your face went pale as you realized just who you had been dealing with this whole time. They were supposed to wear black cloaks with red clouds. You hadn’t seen Tobi wear his once! Always dressed in all black with sandles. But your reaction built a convincing case. The man named Pain accepted your fear as enough of a restraint. He didn’t question why it would be Tobi’s room but some blonde man eyed you hungirly and told Pain Tobi was probably keeping you in his room to finally lose his virginity.

Once behind his door, he modulated his voice back to normal.

“What the hell was that?” you asked more honestly than you intended.

“What? You’ve never seen an act before?”

“Well of course. But why do you make yourself seem like a fool?”

“So no one will suspect.”

“Suspect what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here.” Tobi swirls you back into his void and he starts gathering your things. After a second you begin to copy him and he brings you both back to his room in the Akatsuki hideout. You start to find nooks and crannies to store your things leaving only one remaining item in your hands. He watches you as you look down on your photos of your friends. Eyes lingering over the one of you and Obito before you tuck them away with mist in your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“No, but…thank you…for bringing the photos. I don’t know how you knew but I appreciate it.”

Tobi pulled you into another hug. You were unsure why he cared so much and why you kept letting him hug you. Maybe it was cause compared to your new roommates he suddenly seems less scary. To his credit this hug felt nice. Plus, since it seems like he was going to be your only companion for a while, you decided to tolerate it.

He unfurled the hug and began tugging at your shirt. Lifting the hem above your neck, exposing your bare breasts.

“Hey!”

He disregarded your complaint and touched where your stab wound had been. “How does it feel?”

“It’s fine.” You say blushing while you cover your bosom. “May you please let go of my shirt now?”

“Huh? Oh, of course. Sorry Peach.” He drops your shirt and backs away swiftly almost as if he was embarrassed. He seemed a little more humane today so you decided to press your luck and scout out your surroundings.

“Can we go outside? I’d appreciate some sun and maybe some real food”

He gives you a piercing stare out of the eye hole of his mask. “Stay by my side. I know you are strong but however strong you think you are, I am stronger.”

You gulp remembering the massacre you witnessed three days ago.

“I will be your protector. No one will hurt you ever again.” he lifted your chin so you’d look up at his eye through the swirling mask. “I promise.”

“I believe you…”

You see his eye crease when you speak. He was happy. That’s good. Keep him happy and it will give you openings to escape…though you weren’t sure outrunning him would be possible given his tricky teleportation ability.

You spend the afternoon with him, gathering intel and acting flirty, playing along with his advances. When he grabbed your hand, you laced your fingers. When he reached for your hip, you reached for his. When he hugged you, you draped your arms around his neck. You play into his affection for you, keeping him happy, earning his trust and lowering his guard. If I keep this up, captivity will be bearable. But you also feared that if you acted a little too well, you may fall for your own lies. Holding him today felt too easy given your desperate situation. Was it a genjutsu perhaps?

Nighttime came and instead of parading you past the other members of the Akatsuki who were home between missions, he teleported you both straight to his chambers. You get ready for bed and realize you do not have a bed of your own. It was still in the void. Would he send you to spend the nights in the void? He cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I would feel safest if you shared the bed with me.” he said looking down. “You can sleep on the opposite side of the bed if you would like but I don’t want an enemy who finds the hideout to get to you before I wake.”

You swallow nervously. You know he loves you. That much is obvious but you are searching for signs that he might try to take advantage of you while you’re unconscious. You think back to earlier when he was checking your wound. He didn’t seem to register that he had exposed your breasts for his pleasure. It was almost like your anatomy was irrelevant, only your well being consumed his thoughts. You chose to believe he will be respectful and so you agree.

“Pick whichever side you want. I’ll be back when I’m done.” He grabs a fresh pair of pants and heads to the bathroom. When the door is snapped shut you stand there looking at the bed. You’ve never chosen a side of the bed before. You’ve never been in a situation where you had to. You paced around the mattress like it was the most daunting choice you ever had to make. It’s not like this was a long term decision. You’d escape or convince him to let you go soon enough. So why were you weighing your options so carefully?

Eventually you decide to choose the side closest to the window and give him the side closest to the door. You were much more afraid of his fellow gang members coming in with less than pure intentions than you were of outside shinobi coming for the blood of the Akatsuki.

Just as you finally slip between the sheets, Tobi comes out of the bathroom with only a pair of black stretch sweatpants on. Your eyes drink up his figure. His body was half white as if made up of false materials but it moved like it was his real body. He was extremely toned, swollen pecs and chiseled abs cut across his upper body causing a little drool to pool in the corner of your mouth. Most surprisingly, he also took off his mask and below you saw battle torn skin that etched across the right side of a face that was intimidating, yet soft and familiar. His eyes catch you staring and he quickly looks down removing some of the intimidation you felt.

He scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t shown my face to anyone in years. I’m sorry if it scares you. I just can’t always sleep in the mask.”

“No, it’s fine” you say in a hoarse voice. Your throat had suddenly gone dry. “It’s not scary.”

It wasn’t but what did scare you was the thoughts of what epic battle had mangled him to this degree only for him to survive and still be as strong as he is. You suddenly wondered if he was invincible and if escape would ever be possible.

He took his position on the vacant side of the bed, smiling that you left him by the door. He knew exactly why you chose the side you did. He turned to face you from under the covers.

“Goodnight Peach.”

“Goodnight Tobi.”

You see him wince as you say his name. You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want you calling him by that name. He turns over and extinguishes the candle letting darkness blanket the room as you drift to sleep with surprising ease. Your body’s alarm, shockingly low given your current residence.

*******************************************************

Sunlight seeps into the room as Obito wakes up. He suddenly realizes how warm he is and it only took a few more blinks of his groggy eyes to realize why. You had traveled over to his side of the bed last night and latched onto him. He smiled, feeling his chest fill with joy. He petted your hair. You were his. You didn’t know it yet, but you were. In a few short days not only were you almost completely healed from your recent battle but you were falling for him too. Hugging him, holding his hand, cuddling in bed, Obito had never experienced human touch like this before but he was sure it didn’t always feel this right.

He tries waking you but is met with grumpy groans and you bury yourself deeper into his chest. He kisses the top of your head as your little fists cling to him tight. He gave up on trying to wake you and let you ride out your sleep, enjoying the cuddles that were sure to cease as soon as you came to.

Sure enough, nearly an hour later he hears you sharply inhale as you withdraw from him. You quickly sit up and face the window as he casually stretches and gets up.

“Good Morning” he yawns feeling smug and powerful

“Morning” you say as you adjust your messy bun, trying to seem casual as you hide your embarrassment that you were needily cuddling with your kidnapper.

You both get ready for the day, you donning a set of tactical clothes for no reason other than it was what you were used to and him, his mask and Akatsuki gear, no longer hiding the cloak now that you knew his occupation. He grabs your hip and teleports you to a tea shop for breakfast.

You live out a week in this manner. Spending all your free time together. Occasionally having run-ins with the other Akatsuki members. They eye you in a bone chilling way. You are certain they are calculating how to enter into your room without awakening Tobi. They are nothing but disrespectful towards him, but he gives as good as he gets. You especially have to hone your acting skills to not laugh when Tobi says something ignorant and rude in his comedic tone, earning the anger of who you now know is his partner Deidara.

One thing that bothers you the most is the ever watchful eyes of the mass murderer Itachi Uchiha. He is always polite and quiet and would seemingly be the nicest of the members if not for his reputation for slaughtering his entire clan. It’s always the quiet ones. You didn’t like how he would stare at you. After your last run in with him and Kisame, you were sure they were looking for retribution. You decide to bring this up to Tobi as he gets in bed.

“Tobi,” he winces “I know you said I’d be safe here among the other members but I recently fought against Itachi and Kisame. I don’t like how the Uchiha looks at me. I feel like he’s looking for payback.”

“He’s not.”

You were annoyed at how quickly his dismissed you. His concern for your safety was then entire reason for your current predicament.

“How do you know that?”

“Cause I know him.”

“So you should know what he did.”

“I do.”

“And you trust him?”

“With my life.”

“How can you say that? He doesn’t even know your true identity?”

You are gobsmacked by the wild claim Tobi is making. He killed his entire bloodline and Tobi was okay with that. It was moments like this that reminded you that Tobi was a murderer, not the lovable goof that he had been masquerading around as.

“Itachi is the only person walking this earth who knows my true identity.”

Your jaw drops open.

“But you said that no one had seen your face…”

“It’s true, he does not know my face but he knows my identity.” You were at a loss. “One day I will enlighten you on the events of that night but know this, of every person here, Itachi is the one you can trust the most to keep you safe. If anything happens to me, he is entrusted with your safety.”

The thought terrified you. He was out of his mind. You saw what Itachi did to Kakashi first hand. You saw the morning after the Uchiha massacre. He was not to be trusted. “Tobi, no…”

His nose twitches and that was the last straw. “Well if you hate the name Tobi so much then why do you go by it!” your emotions had been high strung for over a week and you were snapping, boldly yelling at your captor.

“I don’t hate the name. I just hate when you say it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Cause it feels wrong to hear you call me by something other than my name.”

“There’s just no winning with you. I can’t call you by your real name cause it’s some big secret that only a serial killer knows and oh yeah, apparently that same psychopath inherits me if you die!”

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing in frustration. You weren’t even sure why it bothered you so much. This is a temporary situation. You were kidnapped. You were going to escape. If Tobi dies then it will mean you’re finally free. You just have to find a way to sneak out of this hideout and you could finally go home.

“He’s the only one I can trust to guard you with his life.”

You roll your eyes, huffing once more before pursing your lips. “Why? I need to know, Tobi. Why?”

He looks down and shrinks in your gaze. “Because only he knows what it’s like to love as an Uchiha.”

You felt the wind knocked out of you. Was he saying what you think he is?

“You’re a…?”

“Yes.”

“But Itachi…”

“...had help.”

Your hand flys to your mouth covering it in shock.

He finally looks up at you. “Y/N, it’s not what you think it is. I can explain.”

You feel fear chill your entire body and you see on his face how upset he is that you are more afraid of him than ever. He rushes towards you and gets on his knees begging and pleading, “please allow me to explain.”

“Your clan…you helped him murder…all those people.” you said it robotically. You begin to disassociate from the conversation, lost in thought till you circled around to the realization that no one talked about a missing body among the corpses. The only survivor was Saskue. There was no one else left unaccounted for among the names of the fallen brethren. So who was Tobi?

“Tobi, if you’re an Uchiha, then who are you?”

His face flushed to a cherry red. Despite the horrifying details he just shared, for the first time you felt you had the upper hand in your captivity. Why was he so afraid to tell you? He grabbed both your hands, rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles.

Your eyes bore into him anxiously waiting for an answer.

“It’s me.”

You remained silent, your stern expression waiting for clarification.

“Obito”

Your hands went limp in his hold. Every tense muscle relaxed as your heart leapt to your throat getting your hopes up. Then after a moment you began shaking and crying with anger.

“That’s not funny, Tobi.” You growled at him in quiet rage. “Obito died over a decade ago. Kakashi and Rin saw it happen. None of us were the same after. I visit his grave every day I’m in the village. But I’m sure you knew that already, didn't you?” You were seeing red. He had been stalking you. This was all a ruse to get you to fall for him. You didn’t care for your safety at this moment, even after discovering he was a part of one of the most heinous crimes in the history of the Leaf, you were going to knock sense into this liar if it was the last thing you ever did.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s really me.” He grabs your photo of him and holds it by his face. “See?”

You can’t see the resemblance cause your eyes are too full of tears.

“Take your hands off that photo! Don’t touch it!”

“Y/N, think about it.” He pleads with you, “Kakashi has a sharingan in his left eye. My left eye is missing. Obito was crushed under a boulder on his right side. Look at my right side! It looks like this.” he gestured to the Hashirama cells, “I was rescued, Y/N. Madara found me. I survived.”

You had to admit that it made sense except for the last part.

“Madara is dead.”

“He is now, but he wasn’t at the time. He became my master after the accident, after I healed, after Rin…”

His voice cracked at the last word. It was a sobering sound causing your anger to break.

“...Obito?”

He swallowed heavily, “Yes”

You believed him….

The wave of emotion that crashed over you knocked you to your knees. You fell to the ground sobbing. The boy you had loved all your life was before you, taking care of you, alive and well. A monster who had done horrendous things but he was alive. The realization broke your mind. Obito joined you on the floor, holding you as you cried in his arms.

“Why did you never come back? All of us, we needed you. I-I needed you.”

“I can’t tell you that Peach. But I’m here now. I won’t leave you.”

Your hands grabbed at him like he would disappear at any given moment. One arm wrapping around his back, the other cradling his head as you hyperventilate in his arms.

He nuzzles into the curve of your neck as he professes, “I love you Peach.”

You wanted to say it back but talking wasn’t an option. You were too overcome with emotion.

He helped you up to standing and laid you down on the bed. He got in next to you and held you in his arms till your cries quieted. His large palm stroking over your back, comforting you as your mind came to grips with the fact that he was very much alive and very much in love with you the way you were in love with him.

Occasionally as you cried, he’d kiss your cheek or your temple. Suddenly all the terrifying things you’d witnessed over the past ten days were no longer so terrifying. He stalked you cause he loved you. He murdered all those shinobi to protect you. He kidnapped you cause he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The alarms that he been blaring in your head all turned quiet.

Your breathing began to return to normal and you pulled away to look at Obito squarely in the face, leaving no room for misinterpretation. You needed him to know your intentions.

You grabbed both sides of his face and leaned in for a kiss. He quickly pulled you into his body as tightly as he could, squishing you into his chest, nearly breaking your ribs with want. You both inhaled deeply as your lips locked onto each other. You opened your mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss. It was your first one after all, you wanted to make it good.

You toss your leg over his hip, grinding into him as one of his hands lowered to stroke your thigh and ass cheek. You moan into his mouth, him returning your sounds of affection into your own. The stroking of your leg became rough as his tough hands grip into the flesh of your behind. Your breathing heavy and ragged as your arousal increases.

Eventually he falls to his back as you straddle him, hunching over to feast on his mouth while you continue to roll your hips against his pants. You were in the most heated and only kiss of your life and you were sure for Obito it was the same. His deep groans as you dry humped his boner concealed inside his sweatpants made your heart flutter with excitement. Everything that had been stolen from you as an adolescent was right beneath you, in your arms and between your legs.

Obito released your lips to lean his head back with a particularly loud moan echoing out of him causing Deidera to pound against the wall. “Just cause I knew you were going to fuck her doesn’t mean I need to hear it you fucking virgins!”

You laugh centimeters from his face before he flips you onto the bed so he is hovering over your panting silhouette. Lashes fluttering as you salivate from the way his strong presence looms over you.

“Obito, I…” He kisses you slow and deep, not letting you speak. You break the kiss to finish your sentence. “I love you.”

He latches onto your lips again before speaking into your mouth, “I love you too.”

You wrap both of your legs around him, lifting yourself up to rut into him when he finally leans back on his knees to rip down your pajama pants, letting your legs fall to each side, exposing your soft flesh, ready and waiting to be sullied with unholy deeds. He sinks down, positioning himself between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him with curious interest.

He kisses and sucks on your inner thighs. He releases the pliable flesh with a pop and smiles at his artwork. Of course he’d leave a mark the first chance he got. You were his after all.

He worked his way to your center, licking a stripe up your sex before latching over your little bundle of nerves. He began to suck on it as if hoping to separate it from your body. He licked the small nub gently between vicious suckling, driving you wild and causing you to squirm. Your hand shot down to rest in his hair as you furrowed your brows and tilted your hips up into his chin, soaking his face in your secretions. Desperate need consuming your body.

He came up for air and crawled back up over you to get another one of your sweet kisses, before sinking his fingers into your tight virgin cunt. You whimper into his lips. He drags his fingers in and out of you causing you to clench around them. You make small cries as you feel him attempting to stretch you, readying you for his intrusion.

Your hand reached for him, looking to sink beneath his pants to stroke what you desired. He propped himself up on his elbow next to you while his hand reached between your legs. You slipped between his abdominals and his waistband, fingers gliding around his thick base before closing around it and stroking upwards. Obito shuddered at your touch, hips instinctively thrusting towards you. Your hand firmly set around him, stroking up and down, you twisted towards his face to continue kissing him. The sloppy exchange continuing while you worked between each other’s legs. The heat radiated off of your bodies as your lust filled every pore. You pull back, a trail of spit connecting your mouths as you speak.

“I’m ready.”

Obito withdrew his fingers as he leaned away. He sucked his fingers clean as he stood up next to the bed. He dropped his pants so that they pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of the fabric and crawled back on the bed over you.

He gently glided his barren length over your folds, lubricating himself in your sopping wet juices. His tip lightly poked at your swollen bud causing your breath to hitch. He gives you a nod signaling he’s going in. He sinks just the tip in and your arms tighten around him in response.

“Are you okay?”

You look up into his eyes and nod. “Mhm”

He begins to push inwards. You gasp at the stretch. It was painful but soon it shifted into a pleasurable sensation.

“Are you still okay?”

You bit your lower lip as you nod in agreement. He reached down. He wanted to be the one biting your lip. Connecting his with yours once more, his tongue swirled with passion as he stroked in and out of you slowly, allowing you to turn into a puddle under him. You cry into his mouth as you feel your walls constrict around him. You had never felt anything quite like it. Every part of you was satisfied in this position. Legs wrapped around his waist, lips connected with his, sharing the air you breathed, and the feeling of him buried in you. It was love in its purest sense.

His soft slow romantic strokes began to give way as he realized how good the friction felt. Your tight walls wrapped around him so well, squeezing him in a way he could have never even dreamt about. You were perfection itself and it was making him ravenous.

He rolled his hips into you till they slapped against your rear. You make little sounds in response to the connection. It encourages him so he continues to roll. You keep mewling with each stroke. It is an anthem to his heart and he wants to hear it played louder. He begins slamming into you. You want to take it and please him but it’s becoming too much.

You see his eyes gloss over. He’s consumed with the unfamiliar sensation. He flips you onto your stomach. He straddles you with his knees on either side of your legs, pinning them together. He thrusts up and in as you lay down flat. He slams his palm down on your cheek and you make a small grunt upon impact. You hear him smirk.”tch” He wants to do that again.

You grunt a second time. He sits back on his heels and pulls your perfect body up off the bed and sits you down on his erection. Back facing him, he snakes his hands around your front and under your shirt. His muscular arms lift you up and down on him as you sing out little sounds of pleasure.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

You completely exhale as he whispers praise into your ear. Your heart thundering at a wild pace as one hand grabs on top of his hand that has a bruising grip on your chest and the other reaches back to grab him behind his head.

He bends forward to lay light kisses along your neck and into the curve of your shoulder. You were his every desire. All the dangerous things he was capable of were only out of love for you. He would murder hordes of shinobi, tame tailed beasts, and level entire cities in your honor. He would do anything to live this moment on repeat for the rest of his life.

You twist in his arms, politely asking to look upon his face. He sits back as he lifts you off of him. You turn around on your knees and straddle his lap, facing him as he tugs at your hem, gently lifting the fabric over your head and tossing it to a dark corner of the room.

He hunches down to taste your perky peaks. His tongue dragging along each nub before his lips close around it with a gentle suckle. Your head lulls backwards as you cry out blissfully, allowing the new sensations to overwhelm your mind. Obito rocks your body up and down along his shaft but he doesn’t think he will be able to hold out much longer.

He gingerly lays you down on your back, propping your legs open with his arms as he leans down, pushing his chest into yours. You feel your flexibility being tested as he sinks into you and your eyes widen at how deep he went. He begins to stroke, craving the warmth of the fast friction generated by his thrusts. He allows his sack to sway into your rear, hitting it with a satisfying clap at each impact. Your face begins to twist with pleasure. Your rhythmic cries calling to him like a siren's song.

He leans down and presses his lips into yours, allowing your moans to reverberate around the inside of his mouth. He nears his climax as you reach yours. Releasing together in loving harmony. He slowly pumps into you, draining the seed from his length into your loving walls that graciously drink it in.

Your doting eyes never leave his face. You realize you are hopelessly bound to him. You would never escape your captivity, nor did you want to. Both of you have surrendered to the other. Your head collapses onto the pillow and he licks one last stripe up your neck before falling next to you and kissing your jaw. His strong finger tugs at your chin, turning you to him so he may continue to adorn your lips with kisses.

Your faces would fold into each other's necks as your bodies tangled together under the covers. The man who kidnapped you, now your most valued treasure. He would possessively hold his delicate little peach every night from henceforth and you would never speak of going home ever again because now that Obito lay with you, you were home. You allow your eyes to close and your heart to go still as you fall into a deep slumber in his arms.

Home…

Masterlist

#obito x reader #obito uchiha #obito is daddy #obito smut #tobi fan fiction #daddy tobi #tobi simp #tobi x reader #tobi smut #uchiha fan fiction #uchiha smut #uchiha obito #yandere #obito x you #yandere obito

549 notes · View notes

freedomfireflies · 11 months ago

Note

MR. STYLES AND PEACH DOING SOMETHING FOR THE LIVE STREAM !! maybe she can squirt again ?

OOOOF abso-fucking-lutely!!! This one is also inspired by this image!

“Tell them.”

“I…shit, I—”

A firm spank to your ass. “No. You watch your fucking tongue, Peach. And tell them. Tell them how many times you’re gonna cum for me.”

With a shaky inhale and quivering thighs, you brace yourself against the mattress and whimper, “Five. Five times—”

“Good girl. One for each day till Christmas, yeah? And how many times have you cum for me so far, hm?”

“Tw…twice, Sir.”

“That’s right.” You can hear the grin stretching across his face. “Think I should give you my cock now, Peach? Think you deserve it?”

You nod as best you can given in the position you’re in. You want to deserve it. Want to be filled, and stretched, and cared for. In a way only he can do.

“Yeah?” His fingers gently trail down the length of your spine. Dancing over the curve of your ass and the sparkling Christmas lights keeping your wrists bound to your thighs. “I think you do. Think you’ve been so good for us. Haven’t you?”

You turn your head until you can glance over your shoulder at him. “Yes, Sir…trying.”

“Mm.” He hums, and it makes your clit throb against the vibrator. “Trying. Bet you are, baby. Trying so hard to make me proud, hm?”

You only whine as another wave of pleasure rolls through you from the toy beneath your hips.

“I know,” he says, before his hand comes down in another firm smack to your right cheek. “All right, then, baby. Make me proud. Show ‘em how well you take my cock, yeah? Show ‘em how a good girl behaves.”

And you vow to do just that as you feel him move closer and sweep the tip through your arousal.

Harry is always incredible to you. Eager to please and make things fun. To toss you around like a toy and have your body bend to his will.

But Mr. Styles – Sir – is a completely different beast. Insatiable and unrelenting. Perhaps mostly for the cameras (like the one pointed at you both right now), but also for the power it brings.

He might be the one giving the orders, but you’re the one in charge.

With one quick squeeze to your hip, he begins to push in. Thick cock stretching you open while you’re simply forced to lay on your stomach and take it.

And it’s perfect. Especially after such a long, strenuous day of his teasing. And with two orgasms already under your belt from the vibrator, you’re overstimulated and far too sensitive. You don’t imagine it’ll be long before the third.

“There you go, there’s my little cumslut,” he exhales, driving in just a bit further but not quite all the way. “Missed this, didn’t you? Missed Daddy’s cock—”

“Yes,” you gasp before stumbling over a whine. “Sir, please—”

“So fucking greedy, aren’t you, my love?” Another squeeze to your waist before he’s burying himself all the way. Sheathing himself inside your cunt as you both release a deep, satisfied breath. “That’s it. Just like that.”

And you can’t hold back. Can’t hold off. The combination of vibrations to your clit and the fullness of his cock just about kills you. And without really meaning to, you cum for the third time with little to no warning.

But he loves it. Groaning in your ear as his chest presses to your back. Indulging in every flutter of your cunt as you let go.

“Shit, Peach,” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your bare shoulder. “Feel so good around me, you know that? So fucking warm…so wet. This pussy was made for me, wasn’t it? Was made to get fucked by me—”

“Shit…shit, Sir—”

He spanks you again before he’s suddenly grabbing hold of your throat and lifting your head from the bed. “What did I fucking say, hm? You watch your fucking tongue—”

“Sorry—” you gasp. “M’sorry, Daddy…just feels so good.”

“Yeah? I know.” He rears back before thrusting himself in. Setting a sharp, unforgiving pace that barrels you toward a fourth. “Can feel exactly how good it feels for you, baby. Tell them. Tell them how fucking good I make you feel—”

“Shi…good,” you whimper. “So good. S’perfect, Sir. Always perfect—”

“Dream of my cock, don’t you? When you’re lying in my bed? Soaking my sheets? Fucking dream of me…dream of me stretching this little pussy. Having you any way I want—”

“Yes…yes—”

“Dream of them watching.” He squeezes your delicate throat in his palm. Just hard enough to make your lashes flutter but not nearly enough to scare you. Only excite you. “Love the idea of them seeing what I do to you, don’t you?”

A question that doesn’t really need an answer. He already knows.

“So maybe I’ll let them.” He’s going faster. Pounding himself into you with a fervor you’d recognize anywhere. “Maybe I’ll let them see just how much of a fucking whore you really are for me.”

You would love nothing more. Because there’s something about this scene – about the way he controls you – that makes you feel utterly safe and protected.

It had been your idea that he tie you up with Christmas lights for the livestream. And he’d smirked, seemingly unconvinced.

But he changed his mind rather quickly after you showed up in his home office wearing nothing but the lights and a large, red bow over your pussy.

It had been outrageously silly, but the way his pupils dilated, and his chest nearly caved in made it well worth it.

“Look,” he orders you now, lifting your head from the bed and forcing your eyes on the computer in front of the mattress. “Look at what they’re saying about you.”

The comments roll in one after the other. Praising you for the wet sounds you’re making, praising him for the way his cock ruins you, and praising you both for what you’re doing to your audience.

But none of their opinions matter. Only his. As long as he’s satisfied with you…that’s all you really want.

“They think I should make you squirt,” he muses, dragging his teeth down the shell of your ear. Slowing his pace until you feel restless. “They wanna see you soak me. And I think I do, too.”

Just the thought, the salacious, greedy purr in his voice, is enough to drag you closer. To force your body into complacency until you’re squirming beneath his large frame.

His chest presses harder into your back, using his weight to keep you still, keep you stuck to the bed below. To take every second of pleasure from both his cock and the toy still stuck to your cunt.

And he’s so deep. Reaching spots that have you seeing stars, and yet you can tell he’s holding back. He’s going easy on you. Even after readjusting his position in order to truly wreck you.

Tears slip down your cheeks, muscles aching from the strain of the position you’re in. From the lights keeping you bound and submissive.

And yet…it’s everything.

“Go on,” Mr. Styles instructs, squeezing your throat once more before removing his hand in order to spank you. Kneading the tender, red flesh gently before doing it again. “Come on, Peach. Cum for us.”

You’re so close…so fucking close. You just need…just need a little…just need a little more—

“Fuck,” you nearly cry, writhing almost violently as it rips through you. And you know this is what he wanted. Can feel the way this one rips you apart from the inside out, unraveling you like the seams on a sweater.

Everything is wet. The bed, your thighs, the toy, his cock.

And through every moment, he murmurs, “There you go. Oh, good fucking girl. Giving us everything, yeah? Just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Sweet, dumb little baby. Just had to fucking cum—”

“Shit, shit, shit—”

Another spank, but he doesn’t chastise you this time. “What number was that, hm? Tell us.”

“…four. Four, Sir.”

“That’s right.” His fingers curl around your sparkling restraints, tugging on them as if to test them. “And how many left, hm?”

A trick question. Because you know the real number. But the answer he truly wants, is:

“However many you want, Sir.”

The pleased hum that melts from his chest is like ecstasy, and you can only imagine the smirk on his face.

“That’s right,” he whispers. “However fucking many I want.”

You feel him envelope your body with his, and for just a brief moment, you feel truly comfortable. Protected and safe and so incredibly infatuated with the man behind you.

“So…” he continues before dragging his lips across your cheek. Tempting you with a kiss that he doesn’t give you.

You shiver.

He grins.

“Why don’t you be a good peach…and give us another.”

God I forgot how fun these two are HAHAHA

SO SORRY FOR THE CONSTANT SPAMMING OF BLURBS!! WE ARE ALMOST DONE, JUST TWO MORE!!

Teach Me is next, and I will see you then 🥹💞💞

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobii @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz

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oddinary4bts · 6 months ago

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 6 (jjk)

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: date anxiety, Sam Hwang, OC had a pothead phase in high school, cursing, probably the worst date of OC's life, alcohol, peach, jungkook is a drunk mess, mentions of throwing up, explicit content: mentions of jungkook and oc having sex

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: in this one, jungkook and OC proceed to be frustrating again :') hope you enjoy haha <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 1st

You count the water drops on the vitrine of the restaurant.

One, two, three, though the third joins the second to merge into a single, bigger one.

It’s all you can do to quell your nerves as you’re surrounded by the low chatter of the other patrons in the restaurant. You’re sitting next to the window, looking at the world outside. It’s unusually warm today, and the snow turned into rain earlier, though you know it will ice as soon as the temperature drops again. It feels like déjà-vu, like you’re stepping back to Valentine’s Day, though the company will be different tonight.

You’ve been avoiding Jungkook, and he’s been avoiding you. In truth, you don’t even think you’ve seen him once since last Sunday. He’d come home while you were eating dinner in the kitchen, and he’d walked in, patted your head, and grabbed a glass of water. When he’d stayed, leaning against the counter and looking at you, you’d asked him what he wanted.

He’d only frowned and said you were weird, and that had been that.

To be fair, you know what he wanted. Or at least what he deserved. Apologies, that is, for the way you spoke to him at the bar. But you haven’t been able to give him any. Maybe because it pushed him away, rebuilt the true distance between the two of you as if nothing ever happened. It’s safer that way, especially considering how involved you’d already gotten after just a few days.

Then again, you get why feelings would grow so easily with him. It’s the risk that comes with him, the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t do. As a kid, that same thrill had always made you fall more on the bad side, though you’d always been good in school. But did you have a pothead phase in your last two years of high school? Yes, you did.

Looking at yourself today, you think you made it out of it pretty well after all.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your phone. He’s late. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s late – Sam Hwang has shown time and time again that he cannot be trusted. And frankly, you don’t know why you’re here.

Why after last week’s shit show and what happened last summer, you still agreed to meet up at a restaurant that’s definitely over your budget.

Another sigh escapes your chest, and you tap your feet under the chair, anxiety spiking through you. You feel foolish and dumb and everything in between, and you’re starting to want to head home when he finally appears outside, heading for the door.

Your heart stops in your chest. As a matter of fact, you think it’s dropped to your ass before Sam makes it to your table, apologizing profusely. He’s dripping water, and you realize he’s walked all the way here.

You do find it in yourself to feel bad for him, just a little bit. Because you’re careful around him, afraid he’ll just hurt you again.

“Sup,” Sam says as he finally sits in front of you, pushing his long hair back. “Shit, it’s cold.”

You grab your scarf, handing it to him. “Put this on, it’ll help.”

He hesitates for a few seconds, holding your gaze as if to make sure this is not a trick, and then he finally takes the scarf. He sighs in contentment as he wraps it around himself, before saying, “Your perfume smells really good.”

You know. You know because Hoseok once told you the same, and so did Jungkook.

“Thanks,” you say, looking down at your glass of water.

There’s an awkward silence, as if Sam is expecting you to say anything else, but you can’t find for the life of yourself anything to say. So you busy yourself with looking through the menu, reining in your wince as you notice just how much out of your budget this restaurant is.

“Long week?” Sam asks as he starts leafing through his own menu, though he keeps a careful eye on you the whole time.

You nod. “Had some lab reports for two classes due tonight,” you tell him. “Managed to get them done but they drained me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad,” he says, laughing lightly. “You’ve always been a smart ass.”

You purse your lips, cheeks dusting with pink. “Thanks.” You clear your throat, meeting his gaze just long enough to ask, “What about you? How was your week?”

Then your eyes fall back to the comfort of the menu, and you try to figure out if ordering an appetizer for dinner would look bad.

“It was great,” he says. “I didn’t have much to do for classes, so I just chilled. Spent some time with Jake and Soobin.”

You remember them. Jake is the redhead you saw at the bar last week, and Soobin is the third male who completed the friend group last summer. There were three other girls, though you haven’t heard of them since you moved to the city.

“Nice,” you let out, offering him a small smile.

The awkwardness expands tenfold after that, and you choose to order the cheapest meal on the menu. It’s pasta, and you figure you can never go wrong with pasta. After you’ve chosen, you still pretend you’re looking though, trying to escape having to face the heavy silence.

A waitress saves you from it by stopping by the table, asking if you want anything to drink. Sam, with his easy smile and nonchalant attitude, immediately attracts her gaze.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” he says. “And the lady will just have water.”

You freeze. You freeze with your eyes shooting at his pretty features. He looks back at you once the waitress nods, scribbling the order on her pad even though you’d assume it’s something easy to remember.

“What do you mean I’ll only have water?” you say.

Sam laughs. He laughs, as if his choosing for you isn’t paternalistic and so out of date. “I’m sure you wouldn’t drink a beer,” he answers, and it’s almost condescending.

You make an effort of looking around the restaurant, pointedly stopping at a table near you, where the couple is sharing a bottle of wine. “I’m sure we could order wine?” you let out questioningly.

“I don’t like wine,” Sam replies, matter-of-factly.

You widen your gaze, tilting your head to the side. “And that means I can’t order any?”

“Damn, why are you so pressed about this?”

Because this is not Sam. Or if it is, you do not recognize him. He’d charmed you last summer, whisked you off your feet and made you believe in love at first sight. It seems you were blinded, and it’s really hard to find any charm in the man sitting in front of you.

“Never mind,” you say, choosing peace over war.

But in that instant you already make the decision that you will never see him again. You’ll stay for dinner, though, if only because you don’t want to have spent twenty dollars on an Uber for nothing.

When the server comes back with the beer and to take your order, you realize maybe you should have left. Indeed, Sam orders for you again – a salad this time around – while he orders a steak for himself. You have to do everything in yourself not to cringe as he does so, and you keep an empty, plastic smile on your lips as he starts speaking to you about what he’s been up to since last summer.

And he speaks and speaks. That’s something you recognize in him – the way he can speak so much without you having to say anything. It’s like he’s doing a monologue – back then, you’d loved listening to his voice, if only because you liked the musicality of it. Right now, it’s grating on your nerves, and you keep diverting your eyes to the window, hoping there’s some salvation for you on the other side.

Obviously there isn’t any, and if Sam realizes your disinterest, he doesn’t let it show.

You think he’s on his month of December when the food finally arrives, and you’d thank God if you were religious for the respite in Sam’s spiel. Indeed, the silence is most welcomed, and you eat your salad, trying not to think about the pasta you wanted to order.

At least it’s a decent salad, but you’ll know you’ll have to eat something else when you get home.

“And the funniest part,” Sam is saying when you tune back into the conversation, “is that the girl wasn’t even pretty!”

You widen your gaze. “Oh!” is all you’re able to say.

You think you see the couple at the table next to yours sliding their gazes to you, and the girl leans in closer to her partner, saying something. You can only assume that she’s laughing at your expense, and you get it.

You would too, if you were seated next to someone having the worst date of their life.

And it’s strange. So fucking strange, because once you would have given everything to be right here, with Sam Hwang. Now you feel like he’s a stranger, like he didn’t kiss you at the end of the night on that first party as if he’d been waiting for you his whole life.

“But her friend was,” Sam adds, and his fork makes a grating sound as he moves it on his plate. “Sorry,” he mindlessly apologizes.

“No worries,” you let out, with no ounce of emotion in your tone.

Indeed, your social battery ran out while he was on October, and you think now he’s almost caught up to the present. Not that you care – you know you’ll never want to hear about Sam Hwang again as soon as you’re out of this restaurant.

“And you?” he asks, surprising you.

Surprising everyone in the restaurant, you reckon.

“Me?” you say.

“What’s new?”

You let out a small laugh. You can’t help it – it bubbles out of your mouth by itself, and you think it almost sounds a little crazed.

“Nothing much,” you answer. “My classes have been chill, can’t wait to be in med school, and I am starting to have a headache.”

Sam frowns, lips slightly curling in disdain. “Am I boring you?”

You blink once, twice, plastering a fake smile on your lips. “Of course not! I’m happy to know everything that’s happened in your life since you left me alone on the docks last summer.”

You say that at the exact same time the waitress stops next to the table. She gasps, or at least you think she does, and then she clears her throat.

“Would you guys like some dessert?” she asks as she eyes the empty plates in front of you.

“No thank you,” you quickly say before Sam could once more decide for you. “We’ll take the bill.”

He’s shocked. You see it the moment your eyes meet his again. You hope he sees all the ire in your gaze, all the hatred for what he did months ago and for this revelation that he isn’t shit anyway.

“I wanted dessert,” he says once the server is out of sight.

“Well, you can go home and get yourself some,” you drawl. “I’m tired of this.”

“Excuse me?” Sam lets out. “I’m stooping so low for you, and you’re just tired?”

“Seriously?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking last summer but you are an asshole, Sam Hwang.”

“And you’re so much better?” he says, laughing bitterly. “You’ve been looking outside this whole time as if you’d rather be anywhere but here. You’re the one that was begging me to hang out.”

You snort. “Oh, did I now?” you say. “I think I remember you asking for a date.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I’m done here.”

You watch him get up, not surprised in the slightest as he throws your scarf at you, and then you watch him leave. He knocks his chair down when he grabs his coat from the back of it, and every pair of eyes in the restaurant turns towards you at the commotion. You just remain seated, trying to not explode, lips stretched into a thin line.

When Sam is out of the restaurant, the girl at the table next to yours leans closer to you. “I was about to tell him to fuck off for you, girl,” she says, and it makes you laugh.

“Man, to think I once had feelings for that douche?” you reply.

She chuckles. “He’s just red flags, run while you still can.”

You look at his chair on the floor, wincing. “Highly doubt he’ll ever approach me again.”

“And I say good riddance.”

You laugh along with her and her partner, and then you get up to right the chair, if only to busy yourself. Because your hands are trembling – you’re not good with public scenes like the one that just unfolded, no matter how friendly the people around you are. So you’re relieved when the waitress comes back, though the price on the bill seems to be laughing at you.

You still pay, cringing at the hole it’ll make in your budget, and then you wish a good evening to the girl and her partner, before heading towards the door, putting your coat on on the way. You stay in the lobby as you order your Uber, and you go through the Instagram stories as you wait.

Jungkook’s story is fourth, and you wince as you notice he posted it less than a minute ago. It’s nothing much though, just a picture of a table filled with beers, and you’re about to skip when something catches your eyes.

It is indeed a table filled with beers. A very familiar table, and you think you’ll murder Jungkook.

You slide in his dms as you slowly feel anger rising in you.

[08:57 pm] You: when were u going to tell me ure hosting smthg at the apt tonight?

Jungkook doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, you don’t even know if he’ll see, and all you can think is that you need to go home and go fast, just to make sure no one breaks anything.

It’s not that you’re against having get-togethers at your apartment. As a matter of fact, you’re hosting something with your friends tomorrow, though you’d planned to tell Jungkook tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is payback for not telling him before. For not apologizing, for pretending that he’s just a stranger even though two weeks ago you were moaning under him.

You push the thoughts away, but they’re like a door you were supposed to pull – they remain unmoving, taking up the whole scene of your mind. They haunt and taunt you all the way home, and you reckon it’s better than to think about Sam Hwang, about the shit-show of the date you just had.

So you cling to the anger rising in you, to the regrets and to the disappointment. Maybe because Jungkook is part of your present, and not your past. Maybe because no matter how much you avoid each other, your paths will always cross.

The Uber drops you right outside the door of your building, and you thank the driver before stepping out into the cold. The rain has relented now, but it’s already started to turn to ice, so you carefully maneuver to the bottom of the stairs leading to your apartment, doing your best not to fall. You’re successful – not like a similar, freezing rain day, and you climb the stairs to the door properly.

You’re not surprised to find the door unlocked.

But you’re definitely surprised when you open the door to the sight of five grown men sitting in your living room, with two pretty girls hanging with them. Though music is playing loud enough to burst your eardrums, everyone’s gaze turns to you, and you stand in the open door with a slightly frightened look on your features.

“Peach!” Jungkook bellows.

If he realizes he’s called you by that pet name in front of everyone he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he jumps to his feet, heading to where you’re standing.

“It’s freezing,” he comments as he stops next to you, pushing the door close.

You immediately smell the alcohol on him, and you cock an eyebrow.

“You’re drunk,” you state.

He flicks your nose. “Astute.”

You don’t know how he manages to use vocabulary like that when he’s drunk. What you do know is that everyone is still staring at you, as if they’re watching the scene unfolding in a movie theatre.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth, turning away from everyone to focus on Jungkook who’s leaning against the door now.

“Oh, peach,” he lets out. “Sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Bewildered, you watch as he flashes you one of his iconic grins, the one that makes him look like a bunny, and then he heads back to where he was sprawled on the floor. Right next to one of the girls.

The other girl you know, and she’s currently leaning against her boyfriend. She offers you a bright smile when your gazes meet, waving hi.

“Hey,” you reply as you take off your boots and coat. You put the latter in the closet, before turning towards the living room again.

The group seems to have moved on to something else, and you watch as Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling with happiness. You don’t think you’re ready for what it does to your lungs – it sucks the breath right out of them, and you quickly leave to head to your room.

You pitstop by the kitchen first, trying to see if there’s anything to eat in the fridge. You fall on some leftover noodles that are undoubtedly Jungkook’s. You snatch them from where they are, thinking it’s a good revenge for him hosting people over without telling you. They’re almost done reheating when Sera walks into the kitchen, and she beams once more at the sight of you.

“Y/n!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, since Tae left, you guys don’t usually come over.”

And it’s true. Except for Jimin, you haven’t seen the rest of Taehyung’s friend group since he left at the beginning of January.

“It was Jimin’s idea,” she says as she heads to the fridge. She fishes a lemonade from the top shelf, before carefully closing the door again. “We facetimed Tae earlier.”

You nod. “Awesome. How is he?”

“You guys don’t speak?” she asks, and she genuinely sounds concerned.

You shrug your shoulders because you do speak. But ever since what happened with Jungkook, you’ve found it hard to truly speak to Taehyung, to pretend that you didn’t fuck his best friend, so you’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible.

Though it might be slightly suspicious, Taehyung hasn’t caught up to it yet.

“We do,” you say, chuckling. “Just not that often.”

She hums. “Oh well. Do you want to join us?” she asks, motioning over her shoulder. “JK said you make for a good Kim substitute.”

You snort, unsure of what you just heard. “What?”

She smiles secretively. “You know what I mean.”

Your gaze widens, and the microwave beeps, startling you. You pull your noodles out of it, wincing at how warm the bowl is. You drop it on the counter, before turning towards Sera again. “As a matter of fact, I actually have no clue what you mean.”

She bursts out laughing, that clear crystalline laugh you have no doubt ensnared Jimin when they met years ago.

“Jungkook just said that you guys hung out during the power outage and that you were chill.”

You wonder if you’ll have to murder him. You reckon you might, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you hope no one actually understood what he meant by that.

“He’s right,” Sera adds. “Each time you’ve hung out with us I’ve always found you fun.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you try to smile, try to act as if you didn’t turn entirely white at her words.

“So come eat with us!”

And then she’s waltzing out of the kitchen, and you wonder if you should just jump out of the window. Avoiding Jungkook seems like the only viable option, especially when you step out of the kitchen, noodles in hand, to the sight of him with his head in the lap of the other girl. She’s running her hands through his hair while he plays on the Switch, and your heart squeezes uncomfortably.

Unfortunately, Jungkook catches sight of you, and he awkwardly sits up.

“Come here!” he tells you, and everyone’s head once again turns to you. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down at the bowl in your hands. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my food,” he complains, and he gets up, handing his controller to the girl.

You’re keenly aware of the way her gaze slightly narrows on you as Jungkook makes his way to you. He makes to grab the bowl from your hands, and you turn away from him.

“Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook groans. “No.”

And then he wraps an arm around your waist, skillfully stealing the bowl from your hands and raising it over your head. He lets out a victorious cry, and his arm tightens around your waist when you try to reach up.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” Jungkook says, looking down at you.

He’s close. Dangerously close, especially under the eyes of his friends. Of that girl he was all cuddled up with just a few seconds ago.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

He dumbly smiles, before winking at you. “Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

“Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

And you know it is. He smells like it, like he’s had too many beers. You wonder how he can look sober even though he drank so much – if you were him, you’d be making a fool out of yourself by now.

“Please, Jungkook,” you say after a few seconds of tense silence, of your eyes getting lost in the enormity of his gaze.

He frowns, and his arm lowers from where he’s holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

You gulp. “I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

He takes a step away from you, handing you the bowl as his frown deepens. He cocks his head to the side, questioningly, and then folds his arms on his chest.

You do your best not to avert your gaze to the muscles on his arms, instead letting your eyes fall to the bowl of noodles.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he asks.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

You shut your eyes, sighing deeply. “Jungkook, it’s none of your business.”

“He’s an asshole,” he lets out, a little louder than necessary. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze again. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He looks anything but happy, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now, can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You make the mistake of looking at the group in the living room, and you hate that they all quickly look away, pretending that they weren’t watching.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Jungkook suggests. “To cheer you up.”

You settle your gaze back on him, and he really looks like he wants to cheer you up. He’s pouting slightly, a small crease between his brows as he looks at you intently. There’s a light in his eyes that you don’t want to interpret, not when you hear the echoes of him telling you that you would just pretend nothing ever happened.

Are you weak for being unable to tell him no? Maybe. But you’ll have plenty of time for regrets later.

“Okay,” you let out. “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Here’s to trying to be nice to you, huh?”

You chuckle, mimicking his expression. “Poor you.”

“You steal my food and then sass me?” he says, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek. It attracts your gaze to his mouth, and your heart once again squeezes, though this time it doesn’t hurt.

No, this time it makes blush spread on your cheeks, and you feel like you’re starting to burn under his gaze.

“You deserve it,” you declare, and then you’re walking around him to head to the living room.

He jogs to catch up to you, and once more grabs the bowl from your hands. It almost falls to the floor, but he effortlessly saves the noodles, and then motions with his elbow to the coffee table.

“Jae, clear the table please,” Jungkook says.

The guy – Jaehyun, you think? – obeys, though he grumbles the whole time. The unknown girl ends up helping him, and a few seconds later you’re seated in front of the coffee table, with Jungkook next to you. He sits so close you feel his thigh against yours, though he leans back into the couch, attention shifting to the TV, where Jimin and Eunwoo are playing a riveting game of Smash.

Everyone seems to forget that you’re there, and so you eat the noodles, trying your best not to think about Jungkook next to you. About the way you could easily cuddle in his side with a slight shift towards him…

Treacherous little thoughts. You don’t let them live in your head for longer than a few seconds, perhaps because the spice from the noodles overtakes everything. You wince, glancing at Jungkook, who catches your gaze, light dancing behind his pupils.

“You okay?” he asks as your cheeks burn.

“I forgot how spicy you like your food.”

He grins as you fan yourself. “You’ll get used to it. We just have to build up your tolerance.”

Then he does something incredibly stupid. You think his friends will notice, but they all erupt in cheers as they watch the TV, and Jimin slams Eunwoo’s character off the platform.

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your upper thigh. You’d say it’s possessive if you could produce any thoughts, but your brain zeroes in on the spot where he touches you, and you look down. He seems to realize it at the same time as you, and he quickly moves his hand away, frowning slightly.

He’s cute like this. Lips jutting out in a pout, a crease between his brows, confusion swirling in his gaze. Like he didn’t mean to touch you like that, the act done out of instinct.

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

His words clang through your mind, and you turn away from him. Eyes falling on the noodles, and you take a shuddering breath in. Your memories provide you with images of you and Jungkook, alone in this living room. Of an attraction that was inevitable, yet now it tastes bitter.

You’d like to be angry with him. For being so casual about everything, for wanting this over whatever secretive relationship you could have shared with him before Taehyung comes back. Maybe you’re stupid for wanting anything – the longer it would last, the more it would hurt. But as you force yourself to eat the food he cooked, you think the spice on your tongue isn’t really what’s hurting.

No, it’s your heart in your chest. It beats achingly, even more so as Jungkook ends up moving away from you, as if realizing through his drunken haze that he shouldn’t sit so close to you. That even if you tried to be friends, just friends, he’s already fucked you like there was no tomorrow. And during the power outage, it truly felt like there wasn’t any. Like you could just stay in that bubble outside of time.

When Jungkook ends up lying back with his head in that girl’s lap – Lisa, you now know – you pretend like you don’t wish it was you, running your fingers through his hair. You pretend like he’s not there, yet you see him in the periphery of your vision. You hear his laugh, know he smiles, and you wonder, is he just pretending?

Or is he attracted to that girl? You wouldn’t blame him. She matches his doe eyes, pretty features always hinting at a smile. She’s attractive, and you quickly understand that she is Sera’s best friend. Or at least it seems so, because she’s comfortable with the boys, and even more so with Jungkook.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they have history. Or if Jungkook is planning to get with her – hell, if you were a guy, you reckon she’d be the type of girl you’d want to get with.

Yet it hurts. It burns, and you find it hard to focus on the television. Even more so to participate in the conversation, and if someone notices, no one says anything. Perhaps because these are not your friends – no matter how friendly they might get, you’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to them.

You’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to Jungkook.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Jaehyun says, shaking you out of your thoughts.

You’re done eating by now, and you just turn to look at him, a startled look on your features. He chuckles at the sight, and you feel your cheeks burning.

“No, all good,” you tell him.

“Careful,” Jungkook says from behind you. “Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

Now, Jungkook’s speech is definitely slurred. He’s drunk – you were aware of it before, but you hadn’t realized just how much. Indeed, when you turn to look at him, you know the bitter expression on his features is one he usually hides behind a mask.

Just like that you know that he indeed does care, in the weird, twisted way that Jeon Jungkook can care. It reassures you somehow, but also breaks your heart.

He was there, during the power outage. Did he, too, use it as a way to escape reality? Is he, too, regretting having to go back to normal?

You like to tell yourself that he does.

“Bruh,” Jaehyun lets out, and Jungkook quickly composes his features, offering a bland smile to his friend.

The others just keep speaking about whatever it is that they’re speaking of now, but you can tell Jungkook is upset. You don’t think it’s jealousy because of Jaehyun – he’s haunted, just like you.

He stays upset for a while. Drinking in silence, sitting up when Lisa says something to him and him only. She looks disappointed, and her eyes dart to you for a millisecond before she looks away. If she wants to blame you for Jungkook not wanting to cuddle with her anymore, then so be it.

Because you like that she’s not running her fingers through his hair anymore. Like that he sits between the two of you, and you imagine he’s just a little closer to you than he is to her. You’d want him to be – it’s a dangerous thought, much like all of your thoughts when it comes to Jeon Jungkook.

When Eunwoo suggests doing shots, Jungkook plasters a smile on his lips. You see it for the mask that it is, yet you don’t mention it. You long to reach between you and him, to smooth the lines on his brow away, but you don’t do anything. You accept the shot that’s handed to you, and a few minutes later, you let it burn down your throat.

After that, you decide to grab something to drink, only so that Jungkook won’t have to feel alone. Though you highly doubt he’ll realize the silent support that you offer him.

While you’re still in the kitchen, Lisa walks in, a pretty smile lighting up her equally pretty features. You freeze by the fridge, and she moves closer to you, casually saying, “Hey, how are you?”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m okay. You… want anything to drink?”

She looks down at the lemonade you’ve gotten for yourself, nodding once. You hand it to her, and it takes her a few seconds before she grabs it, awkwardness lingering in the air. You take another one for yourself, and then you face her again, hoping she’ll be gone.

She hasn’t moved an inch. As a matter of fact, she’s looking at you pensively, nose slightly scrunched.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister?”

The question takes you aback. You widen your gaze, struck like lightning just hit, and your mouth falls open. You think you must look stupid, so you clear your throat, trying to escape the awkwardness.

“I am,” you reply. “You are?”

“Lisa! Sera’s friend,” she supplies, and she offers you a nice smile. “Something happened between you and Jungkook?”

Straight to the point, then. You’d expected her to circle around the pot, never really fully digging in, but she’s straightforward. You can only admire her for it, even though your heart starts hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

She purses her lips, before chuckling. “Sorry, you probably think I’m crazy.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just remain silent, trying to figure out how to escape the situation. She notices your unease, and she winces.

“Yeah, sorry, I definitely made things awkward,” she says. “It’s just…”

“Peaaaach,” Jungkook yells from the door to the kitchen, and both you and Lisa startle. You meet his gaze over her shoulder, and he frowns, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns towards him. “Just talking.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “Well then, why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

You stifle a laugh, right as Lisa glances at you over her shoulder. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, and then she shrugs, before walking away.

Jungkook moves out of the way to let her pass, and then he walks in, heading towards where you’re still standing next to the fridge.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he stumbles a little when he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

You hear it in his speech. “You want water?”

“Water?” He narrows his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and steps closer to you, towering over you. You tilt your head back, though you don’t budge from where you’re standing, effectively blocking the fridge’s door.

“Move,” he tells you.

“Drink water first.”

He lands a gentle hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The sudden motion makes you shriek, and you push on his chest.

“Let me get a beer,” he tells you. He drops his head next to your ear, and his warm breath tickles the side of your face. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Listen,” you whisper, and you gulp as his lips ghost on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Yet when he does it again, your eyes flutter close, and you angle your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

He shakes out of it, taking a step away from you. The sudden absence of contact feels like a cold shower, and you gulp again, this time to swallow the lump that was threatening to form in your throat.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

You watch him as he moves to the cupboard, grabbing a glass for himself. He fills it at the sink, and he drinks it all in one go, as if that simple gesture will be enough to sober him up. You highly doubt so, but you’re relieved as he pours himself another glass, this time leaning against the counter to drink it.

“What was that?” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, pulling at his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that,” you tell him. “Especially not when there are people around.”

That second sentence is uttered in a low secretive tone, but evidently he still hears. He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek.

“Sorry,” he repeats.

He does look apologetic, if not troubled. Like maybe he lost control of himself for a few seconds, and you see it for what it is – you left your mark on Jeon Jungkook. Because there was desire, in his voice, as he held you close to him. Want, in his half-lidded eyes, like you could just step back into that outer world the power outage consisted of.

But you can’t, and as the sober one, you realize you’ll have to be the one to maintain a safe boundary. No matter how much you hate it.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you clear your throat as you open your can. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He smirks lazily. “Liked it?”

The conversation is taking so many 180-degree turns that you feel dizzy, and you shut your eyes, before taking a long swig of the lemonade. It fizzles in your throat, and though it burns you force yourself to drink and swallow.

You only open your eyes to meet Jungkook’s gaze again when half of the can is gone. And you glance towards the door, knowing you’re betraying yourself when you say, “So what if I did?”

“Pretend, peach,” Jungkook says, and it’s almost condescending. “What would your brother say?”

You hate the reminder of Taehyung, but it does the trick. It douses you, and you escape Jungkook’s gaze by focusing on the tiles on the floor.

What would Taehyung say indeed. You wonder if he’d jump into a plane and come back right away. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and some part of you believes it might be the only way to keep Jeon Jungkook away from you for the time being. Because without a chaperone around, it’s only bound to happen again.

Especially when he lets his mask of unbothered coolness go. Like he did just a second ago, making your bodily temperature spike. It’s yet to come down, and you take another drink of the lemonade, hoping that it will cool yourself.

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say, reminiscing about what he said to Jaehyun earlier.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out, and he chuckles. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him once more. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

“Ever?”

The question is accompanied by a pout, and you hate the way it makes your gut twist. Like butterflies catching flight, treacherous bugs to make you sick to your stomach.

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He’s grinning, yet he doesn’t say anything, only shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his water.

“What’s up?” Jimin says as he walks into the kitchen. He eyes you and Jungkook, and the safe distance between the two of you, before heading closer. “Is this like a lame roommate-only party the others can’t join?” he jokes, and you step aside to let him access the fridge.

“No,” you answer at the same time as Jungkook.

Jimin snorts. “What’s up with you two?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, though your cheeks burn.

“Right.” He clearly doesn’t buy it, and he says, “Peach?”

You gulp. “Don’t ask me, he started calling me that last semester because of Mario Kart.”

“She always chooses Princess Peach!” Jungkook quickly adds, and you think perhaps you’re only digging the grave further.

“Last semester?” Jimin asks, and he’s got a knowing smile on his lips. He’s toying with you two, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze slides to Jungkook as if he has any support to offer, but you think it’s too late. Strangely, Jimin retreats, shrugging his shoulders.

“Whatever,” he lets out. “Why are you drinking water?”

Jungkook motions to you. “She suggested it. ‘Cause I’m pretty drunk.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, sending you a disbelieved look. “He’s been drunker than this, he can handle himself.”

“Why are you trying to get so plastered?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

Jimin purses his lips. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. It seems Jungkook only needed that encouragement to return to drinking, and you watch in horrified awe as he drinks and drinks, downing shots with his friends as soon as you return to the living room.

You’re not surprised he’s struggling to stand on his feet by the time his friends leave. Jimin and Sera linger for longer, Jimin offering you an apology when he realizes the monster he unleashed.

“I told you,” you say, sighing. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, raising a finger. “I’ll have you know.” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he sways. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and you stifle a laugh as he glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that,” Jungkook tells Sera, speech so slurred you’re not quite sure what he said.

It seems his friends also aren’t sure, because Sera says, “What?”

Jungkook looks at you, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin says, and he starts laughing.

He’s not faring all that better, and he sways on his feet as he clasps Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook loses his balance, but he luckily just falls against the wall, slowly tilting to the side.

“Oh shit.”

All you can do is look at him as he eventually collapses, though he’s laughing the whole time. Jimin follows soon after, and Sera and you just look at them, eyes wide.

“You guys always drink so much?” you ask, directing the question to Sera.

“They do,” she replies, pointing to them. “Believe it or not but Taehyung’s the one that usually gets them not to drink too much.”

You cock an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yeah yeah.”

“I swear!” she insists, laughing that easy laugh of hers. “He only got too drunk that one time last semester.”

“And he threw up in the car,” you reminisce, while the guys do God knows what on the floor. “Hardly see that as a good influence.”

“He’s not,” Jungkook says from the floor, and you look down to see him sprawled on his back, Jimin giggling next to him. “Your brother is an asshole.” He looks serious for a few seconds, and then he bursts out laughing. You just remain silent, and he’s the one to speak next. “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hand motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose as if in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He forces himself to sit up, leaning against the wall, as Jimin does the same next to him. Though Sera folds and helps Jimin after he’s offered her puppy eyes even you wouldn’t have been able to resist either.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don’t help,” Jungkook threatens.

“Alright, let’s see you try.” The challenge hangs in the air between the two of you, as Sera and Jimin watch the scene unfolding.

Jungkook turns his head in the direction of your room, but then resumes his attention on you. “Too far.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?” he asks, and he sounds exasperated.

You groan, rolling your eyes, though you finally step closer to him. “We should have asked your friends…” you trail off looking at Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

“Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in,” Jungkook teases as your hands close around his.

His are clammy, warm, but you ignore it, instead pulling him up. It’s a struggle, Jungkook a dead weight, but soon enough you manage to help him stand. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm, trying to steady him.

“I won’t tuck you in,” you say through gritted teeth when he’s finally standing on his own.

You’re about to slide your gaze towards Jimin and Sera when Jungkook cups your cheek, and you think the Earth has stopped revolving around the sound. It stops abruptly, and you’re propelled forward, in those big eyes looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

You want to hate him. Right now, you want to hate him so bad for telling you to pretend nothing ever happened. Because it’s too natural to lean into his palm, too natural to get lost in his eyes.

How many girls has he ensnared with that sparkly gaze? How many of them have fallen for the trap, only to be abandoned when he’s done playing?

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

He blinks once, slowly, and then turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. Jimin’s mouth is agape, and Sera looks like she’s about to burst out laughing, that knowing glint in her eyes so bright it almost puts Jungkook’s gaze to shame.

“Shit, you’re still here?” Jungkook lets out.

“Not anymore!” Jimin quickly replies, and he tugs Sera towards the door. “We’re leaving. You guys do… whatever it is that you’re doing. We didn’t see anything.”

You move away from Jungkook, and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you for a few seconds before it falls aimlessly at his side. You take a step towards Jimin, calling his name.

He looks at you when he has an arm in the sleeve of his coat, the other one yet to be put on. “Yeah?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, trying to put as much conviction in your tone as you possibly can. “He’s just drunk.”

“Oh.” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure. I won’t say shit to Taehyung. I like Jungkook’s head on his shoulders.”

You gulp, your throat feeling so dry you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d die. “Who said anything about Taehyung?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to say?” he enquires.

You shoot a look towards Jungkook, who looks like a kid who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t do. He’s pouting, eyes angled to the floor, and his hands are hidden in his pockets, as if he doesn’t trust them to not touch you right now.

“No?” you let out once you turn back towards Jimin and Sera.

Both of them finally have their coats on, but you think it’s too late. It’s too late – no matter what he says, Jimin will tell Taehyung. He’s a busybody, through and through, and you just know Taehyung’s ought to know by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

You can only hope you’ll be able to weather the storm when it’ll hit.

“I was just going to say…” you start, not really knowing where to head. “Honestly, nothing more than that – he’s just drunk. If you want to tell Taehyung that Jungkook’s handsy when he’s drunk, I don’t think that’ll surprise him.”

Jimin throws you a no-bullshit look, as if he was there during the power outage. As if he saw the way Jungkook held you, and the way he fucked you like it was the end of the world.

“To be fair, Jungkook is handsy all the time,” Sera cuts in. “Did you see how he was sprawled on Lisa earlier?”

You don’t know why she’s throwing you a lifeline. But you remain silent, not wanting to dig the grave deeper, and you just offer a nod and a tight-lipped smile to Jimin. He does look confused for a few seconds until he shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“Whatever,” he eventually says. “I’m way too drunk for this shit anyway.”

And then he’s turning around, opening the door to step outside. Sera watches him go fondly, before turning towards you again.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes on behalf of her boyfriend. “He really is drunk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you walk to the door. You hug her goodbye, before holding the door open for her. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“See you!” Jimin yells from the bottom of the stairs, and you wince hoping you won’t get a noise complaint.

“Shut up,” Sera hisses through her teeth, and Jimin throws an apologetic look in your direction before his girlfriend grabs his arm, forcing him to follow her as she walks away.

You look at them for a few seconds before shutting the door behind you, and it takes you a moment to gather the courage to face Jungkook again. A moment of you looking at some chipped paint on the door, wondering how it is that the stars aligned to put you in such a compromising position with your brother’s best friend.

How is it that he had to seduce you, only to walk away like nothing happened after? It makes your blood boil in your veins, and you turn around with ire in your gaze, directed at the man leaning against the wall.

He’s still staring at the floor, his features blank. You wonder what’s going on in that thick head of his. Is he regretting this? Is he realizing that no amount of pretending will ever be enough to cover the fact that you did the irreparable, together?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask him, venom dripping from your voice.

He looks startled, big eyes going wide as saucers as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be onto us!” You vaguely motion behind you, before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?”

You see red. You see blood red, like a bull and its red flag, and you cross the distance between you and him. He waits for you, lips spreading in a lazy smirk as he leans his head against the wall, only so that he can look down his nose at you. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his features.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” He tilts his head to the side, the perfect picture of arrogance.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook,” you drawl, shutting your eyes in annoyance. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes to glare at him. His tongue toys with his piercing, before pushing on the inside of his cheek.

“He won’t be,” Jungkook affirms like it’s the truth to the universe. “Why would he? Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” he pushes.

You sigh, fists clenched so hard they’re leaving moon-crescent indents in your palms. “Like we’re friends. You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you like when I’m touching you,” Jungkook says, voice dropping an octave.

You stare at him in disbelief, quite at the same time as your heart starts racing in your chest.

“Shut up.”

He raises his hand in defence. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

You try to school your features into neutrality, but you don’t know if it works. Don’t know if he can tell that your blood is rushing to your cheeks, threatening to have the effects of his words show on your face.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and a finger of his finds your clenched fist, tapping gently on it. He doesn’t stop there – his digit slowly moves up your arm, and all you can do is stand, frozen in place. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

You hate him. You really do. You don’t understand how he’s able to say this shit when he’s drunk, but then again, maybe he’s wanted to say it sober, but his inhibitions were keeping him in check. Now, nothing forms a barrier between his mind and his mouth, and the words come forth to taunt you, tease you.

To make your heart race in your chest as you look up at those big doe eyes.

“I’m not mad,” you insist, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

He nods. “See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it.”

Now, it hurts. It almost hurts enough to cut through the blinding anger in your blood, though you cling to the anger like it’s a buoy. You cling to it like it’s the path to safety, and maybe it is.

Maybe it is, because Jeon Jungkook is danger personified.

So, you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest. “Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered.

He sucks on his piercing, and you think his gaze has gone darker. It’s clouded with lust, all directed at you. When he looks at you like that, you feel like the rest of the world goes out of focus, like all there is is him.

Which is quite frankly the reason why you need to stay away from him. To never let him approach you again, to never lower your guard with him again. For Taehyung, yes, but also for your heart that’s barely recovered from Sam Hwang.

It’s strange, to think that you started the evening with Sam, only to finish it so close to Jungkook. To finish with so little distance between you and Jeon Jungkook that you fear you might crash in his orbit once more.

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach,” he says, voice so low it almost sounds like a growl.

And you are. You’ve laid your hand flat on his chest, and you can feel the racing of his heart under your palm. You make to move your hand away, but he quickly puts his hand over yours, clammy fingers keeping you close.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

His sentence makes you insane. Makes the red spark to life again, and you quickly step away. It’s like you were in a trance – you blink once, twice, and Jungkook appears in all his drunk glory again. He looks at you carefully, the lust fading as he beholds the emotions on your face, the mask you’ve let slip.

“Don’t ever tell me that again,” you warn him.

“Why?”

“Just don’t,” you insist, scoffing. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-“

Jungkook interrupts you by grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours. You’d expected it – you’re the mere comet, and he the star. Though you might have come from Kuiper’s belt, Jungkook has been pulling you in, and there’s no escaping his gravity.

So even though you shouldn’t, you kiss him back. You kiss him back, pushing him back towards the wall. He hits hard, and he huffs out a breath that you swallow as your tongue darts in his mouth. You taste the alcohol on his breath, but more than that you taste him – the inebriating taste of Jeon Jungkook makes your mind spin in no time, and you’re forced to take a step back.

To take a step back and look at his pink lips, now swollen from the kiss. His eyes remain closed, and his breathing is ragged, chest going up and down quickly, much like yours is, too.

“Don’t kiss me again,” you say.

And you walk away. You don’t look at him once before slamming the door to your room shut, hands shaking so hard you think you’ll break. The shaking threatens to take over your whole body, and you almost expect Jungkook to follow you.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the sound of his door softly shutting is like a flatline, haunting you terminally. Like there will be nothing more after that than the memories of his lips on yours, of his hands tracing the curves of your body.

Though it might be sad, though every inch of your body is craving for his touch, you need to be sane. You need to stop before you both get in too deep. Because, even though you could have him now, even though he’s just on the other side of the wall, the moment Taehyung is back, it would have to be over.

You don’t want to get involved with someone that you’re only bound to lose anyway.

You don’t sleep after that, sleep evading you in favour of your spiraling thoughts. You let them carry you like the tornado that they are – you’re in too deep already.

What will be left of you when the tornado spits you out?

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Ughhhhh they are annoying I love them. What did you guys think? Let me know <3

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