#i have nothing else to tag this with i think??????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gotaksboyfie · 2 days ago

Note

HII :3 can you do Baku x reader who is his polar opposite 💔 love your fics/headcanons!

purr-fect

gif creds: @cesowi

pairing baku x gender neutral reader

summary you're happy by yourself. then comes baku stumbling into your life after he finds you feeding a stray cat behind school

word count 2.2k

warnings/tags developing relationship

when anyone thinks of eunjang, they think of baku. the undefeated king with fists made of steel, and an outgoing personality. he practically ruled over eunjang, making sure to protect the weak and fend off any unwanted pests (cough, the union)

but you?

you were quiet. never speaking unless called on by a teacher. which was never, because they seemed to forget about you too. you weren't a background character, you were a walking ghost among the eunjang halls.

no one paid you any mind, not even the bullies. they too seemed to not notice you, but better ignored than to be a bread shuttle.

if humans ignored you, the animals sure didn't. leading you to your current predicament.

there was a stray cat with a small litter hidden behind the bushes, and you took it upon yourself to care for her. she hissed and scratched whenever you tried picking it up so moving it home with you was not an option.

you built a makeshift cardboard shelter the next day, even painting it green to hopefully blend in enough to not draw attention. the last thing you wanted were some lowly thugs torturing the kittens.

skipping pe was a regular occurrence for you, so the cats were just an added bonus. who would willingly want to run or play basketball? you snuck away to the convenience store instead and bought cat treats, feeding them to the cat.

"...tuna will be your name." you muttered, watching as tuna rubbed her head against your fingers. the kittens were fast asleep, piled on top of each other.

it's only been a few weeks since you've met tuna, but she trusted you almost instantly after you gave her the cardboard box. she shed the defensive stray cat act and instead turned into a clingy kitty.

she meowed as you poured water into a small bowl, lapping it up quietly. you squatted as you watched, zoning out and thinking of nothing in particular.

"that's sick! is that a cat?!" a booming voice came from behind you, making you jump and fall on your ass.

you winced as you glared up. who the fuck—oh. it's baku.

"what's up," baku lazily grinned, plopping down next to you. "how long have these kitties been here? aww look, one has a spot in the shape of a heart on the belly!"

you blinked as you turned away from him, watching as tuna got into a defensive position and hissed at baku.

"yeowch man! can you help me?? i don't think she likes me very much!" baku exclaims, clutching his scratched up hand. you scooted closer and rubbed tuna's head.

she melted under your touch, but immediately backed up the second baku inched closer.

"not fair dude, she only likes you!" baku moans, pouting as he watches you pet tuna's head. "not much of a talker, are we?"

the bell rings and you get up, dusting your pants off. baku watches you in interest and follows you back into the building.

"what's your name? i never caught it," baku asks, walking with his hands behind his head next to you. you scowl and walk faster, hoping to lose him. thank god you didn't share a class with him or else you would have to deal with his yapping for the rest of the day.

rushing into your class, you take your seat and ignore baku lingering at the door. he leaves soon enough and you forget about him.

until the next day, that is.

there baku is waiting for you. new scratch lines prominent on his forearm as he smiles at you. you sit a foot away from him, leaving you in an awkward distance away from the cats but you would rather die than willingly sit near him.

"ah, i see your nametag now. hi y/n!"

you don't respond, instead pulling out some wet food for the kittens. they all gravitate towards you, still wary of baku.

it's almost funny how reversed the roles are right now. baku is sat like an outsider while you are the center of attention.

nothing seems to dim baku's joyous mood though, because he's still looking cheerfully at you. he snorts to himself, causing you to look up and furrow your brows at him.

baku bites his bottom lip and holds back his laugh just to say "what's a cat's favorite food? paw-sta!"

you don't bother giving baku anymore attention, instead plucking leaves out of tuna's fur. you can hear baku laughing at his own joke, even running out of air once.

baku keeps cracking dry cat puns, but you don't say anything (obviously). he's not deterred by the silence at all, and keeps at it. you grimace at another odd rendition of "purr-fect!" and scoot further away from him.

"does she have a name, or will i just have to keep calling her 'the cat behind school' forever?" baku questions, watching as tuna contentedly rubs against your knee.

"her name is tuna." you stiffly reply, short and straight to the point. it's a stark contrast to baku's tone but when has that ever bothered him?

"aww! is it tuna because she likes tuna the most? or is it just because? does she have a favorite food? are the kitties named? there's 5 of them, we should start distinguishing between them!"

"the kittens have no name."

"let's name them tog–" baku is cut off by the bell ringing. baku curses under his breath, muttering something about "stupid bell" and "worst timing"

he gets up and waves "bye!" as he runs off, kicking up dirt. talk about a dramatic exit, it looks like he's farting up a storm from it. you suppress a laugh (and a sneeze) as you wait for the dust to settle.

the next month or so is the exact same. baku showing up at your spot and claiming it as your shared spot. you think this is more of some form of encroachment but you don't bother talking to him, opting to care for the cats instead.

baku also got the hint and stopped following you to class, noticing the way your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and you hunched inwards as people asked baku "who's that?". at least he got that social cue.

it becomes sort of a silent rule that baku buys food while you bring water and whatever tools needed, like toys or a fur brush. tuna still hates him so you have to feed her and the kittens.

you don't want to admit it but he's actually helpful. the free food supplied by him has given you more money to spend on other things.

those nine words you spoke before remain the only times you've actually talked around him. despite this, baku welcomes your presence with open arms.

he's constantly talking your ears off, but you start to find that it's not actually that bad anymore. his voice is pleasant to listen to. a nice background noise, even. you know almost everything about him now.

you're starting to enjoy being around baku now, you belatedly realize. even if you found solace in being alone, having someone there wasn't.. all that bad. he never forced you to reply either, just happy that someone was there to listen.

still, baku does not share the same invisibility you have. he wasn't at his usual spot today, and you felt a small pang of disappointment. but at the last ten minutes of class, you notice baku jogging towards you, a scowl on his face.

baku sits down and immediately starts complaining while pouting. per usual, tuna starts to shuffle away from his side closer to you, worsening his pout.

hyuntak has been stricter on him recently, forcing him to not skip today and instead make him teach juntae how to play. which is like talking to a brick wall, because that boy does not seem understand a word they teach him, according to baku.

"isn't it the same? talking to me?" the words slip out of your mouth before you can think and you clamp your jaw shut immediately.

thank god baku wasn't looking at you, or else he would've seen the panicked look on your face. you've kept your expressionless face around him all the time, you can't let that mask slip now.

"not really. you're different," baku says. there's a a pause from him as he sighs, not continuing what he wanted to say for some reason. his voice takes a different tone at the "different", twinged with a softness that makes your heart stutter.

you nod slightly, and baku returns back to his babbling about anything and everything. no one says anything about how you scoot closer to baku, brushing his shoulder with your hoodie. or how baku does the same, sitting side by side with you now.

the bell rings and you look down at tuna and shoo her back to her house. it was awfully barren, perhaps you should get her some things. it must be boring with only the bushes to play around. not to mention it's going to get colder soon.

baku does his same 'wave bye with his whole body and head in first' and you follow behind him after unlatching tuna from your pant leg.

the next day, you make a quick stop to a pet store before class and another during pe to the convenience store.

by the time you get to the same spot during pe, baku is already sitting there. he beams as he sees you turn the corner, loudly beckoning you over. he looks more energetic today, you note.

"look, look! she's letting me feed her!" baku is holding a tube of cat treats while tuna laps at it. you raise your eyebrows as a way of saying "wow", and baku is nearly shaking in happiness. seems like tuna has finally accepted him.

you sit next to baku, opening up the plastic bag you brought. it contained of different cat toys, all silent of course, and a large cat bed with a blanket.

baku makes a (Ö) face as he watches you carefully lift the kittens into your lap and set up the new bed. tuna is too occupied eating from baku's hand to notice the small cat-napping.

never would you think you'd be thankful for baku, but he just made the process 100 times easier. tuna was a menace when it comes to someone touching her babies.

"damn, you bought a bunch of stuff today," baku whistles. the half the kittens were eating whatever baku bought and the other were playing with you.

"y'know, i didn't think you'd be like this," baku starts and you prepare to tune out whatever weird shit he was going to start spouting. no need to hear about how weird you were. "you're actually pretty chill to be around. do you know yeon sieun? he's like you, except more bitchy."

yeon sieun? that study nerd who's known for being a smartass when it comes to fighting? you??? and him??? similar???

your confusion must be apparent on your face because baku cackles. it's a deafening sound compared to the quiet purr of the cats, but it's nothing you're not used to.

"you guys are both all dark, quiet, and brooding. but you're actually pretty..—nice! pretty nice, haha, and kind to animals, and you don't just walk away when i talk," baku flushes and you pretend to ignore that awkward pause in the middle of his sentence. the ground is suddenly really interesting, baku thinks.

he has odd taste, but whatever suits him. you glance at tuna. she just finished eating and is sniffing baku for more.

"i thought you'd be more into like, hmm.., beating up nerds on the side. like out of school. but you don't really seem that bad."

"i don't like fighting."

it's the first time you've talked about yourself, and baku is careful to not scare you off. "oh really? why?"

"i dislike blood."

"honestly me too. it stinks a little and the taste is just nasty. getting a nosebleed always sucks because it just tickles my upper lip and ruins my focus in fights. i don't really like fighting either, but i have people to protect."

you don't respond, because what was there to say anyways? baku just continues talking, knowing that the chances of you wanting to reply were slim to none.

the bell rings again and you grab the plastic bag to throw away, but baku beats you to it. your hand lands on his and you blink. a moment passes with your hand still on his, and baku is beet red.

"oh! uhm, ahaha i'll just take it and throw it away and yeah you don't have to worry about anything don't even worry about it!" baku rambles, his back ramrod straight as he stands up. he moves robotically to the trashcan, and glances back at you multiple times before looking at his hand.

as he leaves, he's smiling ear to ear as he waves widely at you despite being only 2 feet away. "bye! i'll see you on monday!"

you smile softly at him, making his mouth open in surprise. "bye, baku."

the blush returns full force on his cheeks, and his grin grows impossibly wider. he's skipping away giggling to himself like a schoolgirl. did he forget you could still see him?

what an odd guy, you shake your head and laugh to yourself.

fin

a/n eek yapper x listener my favorite trope!!! i feel like baku's opposite would be someone similar to sieun, considering how outgoing baku is (´ ε ` )♡

#weak hero #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 2 x reader #weak hero class 2 #weak hero class #weak hero class x reader #baku #baku x reader #park hu min #park humin #park humin x reader #park hu min x reader

333 notes · View notes

neonbonded · 3 days ago

Text

Midnight Promises

♡ ft. love and deepspace men x fem!reader + future children ♡ cw: fluff, domesticity, soft dad behavior, implied past intimacy, extreme husband material, babies everywhere ♡ a/n: Got a lot of asks for more wife/children with the boys so I had too! Love them so much! Also if this one seems a bit off sorry I have been drowning in finals

Caleb

It’s 3:42 AM.

You’re barely awake—draped in Caleb’s old flight hoodie, fuzzy socks mismatched, hair a mess. Your baby’s been fussing for over an hour, and the soft whines from the bassinet are just starting to edge toward a full-blown meltdown.

You don’t even make it out of bed.

Because Caleb’s already there.

You feel the mattress shift, the soft pad of bare feet, the faint rustle of fabric as he leans over the bassinet. Then—

“Shhh, baby,” he whispers, voice so gentle it cracks your heart open. “C’mon, lovebug. You’ll wake Mama.”

He says it like Mama is royalty.

He scoops up the baby with practiced ease—cradles them against his broad chest, one hand patting their back, the other supporting their head with the kind of reverence people usually reserve for ancient artifacts or handwritten love letters.

You watch, half-lidded, as he starts pacing the room barefoot.

He’s wearing soft cotton sleep pants and nothing else. Dog tags glint faintly under the moonlight seeping through the curtains. His hair is messy. His eyes are tired.

But none of that matters when your baby whimpers and he starts humming.

A melody you don’t recognize—slow, a little sad, sweet in the way old lullabies are. He sways as he walks, murmuring words you can’t quite make out.

You think you hear:

“You’ve got Mama’s nose…”

And:

“You’re already perfect. I’ll protect you forever. No matter what.”

Eventually, the baby settles. Caleb’s still moving—slow, endless loops around the room like he’d walk forever if it meant peace for both of you.

And then?

He comes back.

Leans down to kiss your temple first—soft and lingering—then lays the baby carefully between the two of you in the co-sleeper.

You’re half-asleep when you feel the weight of his arm slide around your waist.

��Go back to sleep,” he whispers against your neck. “I’ve got you both.”

And you believe him.

Because he’s Caleb. And he always does.

Xavier

It’s late.

Too late.

The kind of hour where the world feels paused—still, heavy, suspended in moonlight.

You’re curled up on the couch in the quiet dark, cradling your baby against your chest. The nightlight glows dim in the corner, casting soft shadows across the living room. There’s a blanket draped around your shoulders. You’re swaying gently, murmuring something soft and sleepy.

But your eyes are fluttering shut.

You don’t even hear the door open.

Xavier steps in without a sound.

He’s still in his gear—jacket open, blade strapped to his back, boots silent on the floor. His hair’s a mess from wind and mission grime, and his shoulders are tense from too many hours moving through dangerous spaces.

But the moment he sees you?

Everything stills.

He crosses the room in a few strides. Drops to one knee in front of you—like a knight, like a sinner, like a man who can’t stop needing you close even when he’s exhausted.

You blink awake as his hand brushes over yours.

“You should be sleeping,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “She wouldn’t settle.”

His eyes drop to the baby nestled in your arms, now sleeping soundly. His jaw clenches—not in frustration. In awe.

He leans forward—careful, deliberate—and presses a kiss to your forehead. Then another, just above your brow.

“Let me,” he murmurs.

You hesitate. He sees it.

“I washed up outside,” he adds, voice barely above a breath. “I’m clean. I promise.”

You nod, and he lifts the baby from your arms with heartbreaking care—like he’s holding something sacred. His hands are calloused. Steady. Gentle. He cradles her close to his chest, one hand splayed protectively over her tiny back.

And then he just… stands there.

In the living room. Rocking back and forth. Saying nothing.

He doesn’t speak much—not about his love, not about the aching protectiveness in his chest—but his actions are poetry.

His eyes stay on her face like he’s memorizing every blink, every breath. When she stirs, his voice breaks the silence, low and soft:

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

You watch as he walks the room in slow loops, quiet and constant.

When he finally comes back, he lays her down in the bassinet and turns to you.

He doesn't ask if you're okay.

He just gathers you into his arms and pulls you into his lap on the couch—your body curled against his chest, your face tucked under his chin.

“Sleep,” he says.

And you do.

Because when Xavier says he’s here—he means it.

Rafayel

It’s nearly 2:30 in the morning.

The studio’s dim, lit only by the soft flicker of string lights and the distant glow of the moon bleeding through the stained-glass window he swears wasn’t always cracked.

You’re half-asleep on the old velvet couch, wearing one of his oversized button-downs and curled under a blanket that still smells like him—smoke, lavender, paint.

Your toddler is curled up on your chest, drooling peacefully, one chubby fist tangled in your hair.

And Rafayel?

He’s sitting on the floor.

Cross-legged. Shirtless. Covered in gold leaf and paint smudges.

Sketching.

You don’t know how long he’s been at it, but there are at least six versions of you sprawled around the floor, each more unhinged than the last—some romantic, some ridiculous. One with you wearing a crown made of snack wrappers. One where the baby is glowing like a celestial being. One where he’s asleep in your lap, drooling.

(“For realism,” he mumbled when you pointed it out.)

He looks up and catches your gaze before you can pretend to be asleep again.

“Caught you,” he says, voice a little too loud for the hour. “Can’t sleep without me anymore, can you?”

You groan softly, not bothering to deny it.

He grins and sets his sketchpad down. Crawls across the floor like a lazy jungle cat and presses a kiss to your bare knee.

Then another.

Then a third, way too high up your thigh.

“Rafayel,” you warn.

He laughs into your skin.

“Okay, okay,” he says, pushing himself up beside you. “You win. For now.”

He curls around you on the couch, nuzzles his nose into your neck, and gently adjusts the blanket so it covers all three of you—his long arm curling around your waist and your baby like you’re both his personal treasures.

You hear his breath catch when the baby sighs in her sleep and curls instinctively closer.

“Do you think she dreams?” he whispers. “Do you think babies dream of past lives?”

You hum. “Probably not.”

“She’s ours,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “So if she does, she’s dreaming of color. Of brushstrokes. Of the way you laugh when I say I’d paint the moon just to match your skin.”

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

He grins. “Neither do you. That’s why I love you.”

You fall asleep in his arms to the feeling of his fingers trailing over your hip, sketching shapes into your skin he’ll try to remember later.

When he finally dozes off, he dreams of nothing but you.

Zayne

It’s just past midnight.

The house is silent except for the faint whir of the baby monitor and the occasional rustle of sheets as you shift beside him.

Zayne’s lying flat on his back, arms folded behind his head, eyes wide open—like sleep is something that’s just out of reach. Again.

You roll over, still half-asleep, and reach for him without even opening your eyes.

He exhales softly. That sound that always comes out when he thinks you’ve caught him thinking too much.

“Can’t sleep?” you mumble against his chest.

“I’m fine.”

You don’t believe him for a second.

He never sleeps easily. Not when there are scans to review. Charts to double-check. Or, more often than not, you and your daughter to hover over protectively when you’re both too peaceful to notice.

You shift closer, throwing a leg over his, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re doing it again,” you murmur. “Thinking too loud.”

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand just comes up to rest on the small of your back, warm and grounding.

“I keep hearing her cough,” he finally admits. “Twice. It was faint. Could be nothing. Could be—”

“Zayne.”

“I know.”

His fingers tighten slightly against your spine.

“I just… I’ve never had anything like this,” he says. “Not really. A house. A family. Something I could lose.”

You lift your head, blinking at him in the dark. His jaw’s tight. His brows drawn. Even now, he’s holding everything too close to his chest.

You reach up and cup his face.

“You’re not going to lose us,” you say.

“But I don’t know how to stop trying to prevent it. I don’t know how to relax.”

Your daughter lets out a tiny whine over the monitor—just a sleepy noise—but Zayne’s already moving before you can stop him.

You follow him down the hallway.

In the dim nursery, she’s sound asleep again, thumb in her mouth, little fist curled around the corner of her bunny blanket.

Zayne stands there for a long moment, watching her.

And then—surprising even himself—he reaches into the crib and lifts her gently into his arms. Just to feel her close. Just to make sure.

You step up beside him, arms sliding around his waist.

He kisses the top of her head.

Then yours.

When he speaks, it’s barely a whisper:

“She looks like you when she sleeps.”

You smile.

“She snores like you.”

His lip twitches, just barely. “She’s perfect.”

You press your head to his shoulder. “So are you.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But when you’re all curled back in bed—your daughter nestled between you, your leg tangled with his again, his hand wrapped tightly around your fingers—you feel it.

That quiet shift.

Zayne doesn’t sleep much.

But when he does?

It’s only like this.

With you.

Sylus

It’s past 2 a.m.

The house is quiet—but not asleep.

You’re half-asleep on the couch, still in your robe, a half-drunk cup of tea cooling on the side table. The nursery light is off, save for the warm glow of the star projector pulsing gently across the ceiling. Two soft little heartbeats breathe slow and steady in the twin bassinets by the wall.

And Sylus?

He hasn’t moved in over an hour.

Still shirtless, dark sweats low on his hips, he sits in the old armchair by the window—broad shoulders silhouetted in gold, silver hair tied messily back. One twin lies draped against his bare chest, asleep with a hand tangled in the crow pendant Sylus never takes off. The other had fussed, and he calmed her with nothing but his heartbeat and a lullaby you’d never heard him sing before.

He’s holding both of them like the world might try to take them away.

And he’s watching the window like he’d burn that world down first.

You don’t say anything when you approach. You just cross the room quietly and kneel beside him, one hand smoothing along his thigh.

“I thought you’d gone back to bed,” he murmurs without looking.

You shake your head. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He finally turns to you. His expression is unreadable—but you see it in his eyes. The softness. The weight. The disbelief that he has something so precious now.

“She cried,” he adds, glancing down at the baby in his arms. “Then he did. Didn’t want them to wake you.”

“You didn’t have to stay the whole time.”

“I did.”

Simple. Unyielding. Sylus.

You smile and rest your chin on his knee, watching the twins rise and fall with his slow breathing.

He shifts one arm carefully, just enough to curl it around your back and pull you close—right there on the floor. His fingers drift to the nape of your neck. His voice is quieter now.

“You’re not allowed to leave me alone with them like this again,” he whispers. “I’ll get soft.”

You laugh softly, eyes warm. “You already are.”

He hums.

Then, after a pause: “They make me want to be good.”

You look up. “You are good.”

“No. I’m careful. With you. With them.” He looks down at the sleepy weight in his arms. “That’s different.”

You don’t push it. You just nuzzle closer, his warmth sinking into your skin as the stars dance across the nursery walls.

Eventually, the baby in his arms yawns. He watches her like she’s a secret no one else gets to know.

“They’re safe with me,” he says, barely audible.

And somehow, you believe him more than anything you’ve ever known.

231 notes · View notes

itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 2 days ago

Text

Comfort for the Soul Part 2

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts*!Reader

Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed the previous chapter! Thank you all for the support and love - I love writing this sweet man and I may be writing more for him in the future!

I don't know much about Bipolar disorder, but I tried my best to look more into it to make Bob seem more realistic. It's easy to make Bob and his other 'personalities' similar to DID, but it is not at all the same.

Summary: When you realise your supply of blood bags have run dry, Bob is more than willing to become your temporary blood bag.

Tags: blood, swearing, blood drinking, reader is part vampire (think Blade - day walker and backstory explained a bit more), Bob is very touch starved and very smitten, fluff, pet names, Bob feels some self-doubt, mentions of the Void, making out, getting caught, Bob and reader being possessive, some 18+ moments (Bob gets a boner a few times)

Wordcount: 4,6k

E/C = eye colour

L/N = Last name

Lo and behold, Valentina was not true to her word; those three days suddenly went to five.

Your frustrations were greatly felt throughout the tower, much to the dismay of your team-mates, awkwardly giving support to their best of their knowledge.

It wasn't their fault they didn't know much about day walkers; they had been a rarity, but even you found their curious questions became something far too comical.

"Can't she just eat a squirrel?" John had finally asked at dinner, the group of you giving him varying looks of disbelief. "There's plenty in the park."

"She's part vampire, Walker, not a dog," Ava argued.

"It's fine, guys, I'll live." You chewed on the steak Alexei had offered to cook for you. A plain, on the verge of being a medium rare steak, nothing else to go with it.

Despite his help, he almost forgot about it a second too long, so the juices weren't as plentily. As Walker described it, "you might as well still eat it whilst it's still mooing."

The group didn't discuss anything on it, putting out ideas of what the evening should be: games, movie, trivia night, but your mind was distracted by the kind, thoughtful gesture that Bob had offered to you.

He had been keen on offering himself up as your temporary meal for only three days, but whether he would want to continue this for a few more was something you needed to bring up with him.

It didn't help; you could still see the band-aids he wore underneath his sweater, and the flesh was still healing.

Your mouth watered, the way he sat so snug in his comfy clothes didn't help your situation, sweet, oblivious Bob, unaware of how you were feeling. It took a lot in you now that you had gotten a taste of him, not to just keep pouncing on him every five minutes.

The group had gotten into a debate on films, which ones to watch, and only those that bring your attention back to them.

"If we do watch Star Wars, which ones - prequels or originals -Bob, why don't you pick?" Yelena had brought the attention back to Bob, whose attention had been given to shyly looking over at you when he thought you weren't looking.

"Uh-sorry, what w-were we talking about?"

"Ugh, see? He was too busy giving love eyes to YN!" Walker gestures, but none of them go further into it. Rather, Bob is left with the comment swimming in his mind, his eyes trailing to you to see if you are just as embarrassed as he is.

You give a sympathetic smile, one that doesn't pity him, and you don't make him feel worse. He feels relieved you don't look at him any differently; rather, your attention has shifted.

The heavy debate seemed to bring the worst out of Walker and Ava, disagreeing that "the prequels were better" or "no, originals are the best, we have to start with that and the order they came out in"

You cut them off before you can stomach their growing voices, "Hey guys, I might sit this one out-"

"Oh, no, you're not, L/N!" Walker and almost half of your team shouted out, before Bucky sighed, muttering, "Fuck it, prequels it is," before going to set it up in the living room.

"Hey," a small voice called to you, a nudge to the shoulder as you looked briefly from your unfinished meal to see Bob had made his way over to sit next to you, "something up?"

"All good," you whispered back, but you knew you had to ask him soon enough, "are you free after this? Need to ask you something."

"Of course." He smiled broadly, the smile lines in his face made him look boyish and youthful. Despite taking a chunk out of him the previous night, he seemed to be soothed by being in your presence.

You can't say anything else to him before you're whisked over to help with popcorn duty with Yelena, and Bob is dragged by Alexei to the couch.

"Hey, saved you a seat," Bob motions gently to the space beside him on the long sofa. You realise that he's in the curve of the L in the couch, and despite the length of the couch, you find that the space between you is practically nothing.

You scooch through as you take a seat, finding yourself rather cosied up beside him. Shoulders and legs touching, you realise he's emitting way too much heat to be humanly possible. There's a nervous, bashful look to him, like he's scared you're too uncomfortable being so close to him.

"Is this okay?" He whispers close to your ear when everyone has settled, the lights go off, and the movie intro starts. You notice his hands are fidgeting again, and on reflex, you take them into yours.

The jitteriness stops immediately, feeling the way Bob tenses again as if he's never felt you touch him before, his blue eyes flash with the light coming from the TV, and he looks ethereal with the backdrop of New York behind.

"I'm good." You give his hand a squeeze, your little message to him that you're next to him, not going anywhere.

He seems to relax into the bundle of blankets over you, and by the time the movie ends, you feel sluggish, warm, your head resting against his good shoulder, eyes drifting in and out of sleep.

"The lovebirds are at it again." You hear a voice, maybe Walker, but it sounds too happy, too pleased to see this; the sight of Bob reciprocating your touch, his eyes shut as he breathes deeply in a sleep.

You're so caught up in Bob and sleep, ignoring the snickering, the giggles, maybe even the sound of a phone camera shutter. You just feel so part of his life, and the feeling, unbeknownst to you, is reciprocated.

The group go back to their rooms, leaving the lights dimly lit as you slowly come around after a quick snooze, with Bob groggily joining you.

His brown locks are poking at random angles, his hair tousled but there is a sleepy, dreamy look to him when his eyes land on you beside him, realisation dawning on you both.

"Oh, guess the movie is done." His voice surprises you with how deep it sounds, "Surprised s'all."

"How come?"

"Usually, they're s-so loud," he laughs more to himself softly, his eyes twinkling in the dim light, "can't believe I wasn't thrown a pillow to the f-face for potentially snoring."

"Well, you're in luck, I didn't hear snoring," he matches your smile, relieved to hear that. You shift, feeling something had snaked around you.

Looking down, you spot Bob has not quite noticed he's wrapped himself around you, a hand on your waist, almost possessively, keeping you glued to his side.

"S-Sorry!-" He realised a second later when he sees what you're looking at, pulling back, but you immediately miss him, the way he feels around you, his scent, his overall being.

It's okay- you want to tell him- I like you being close- but you stop yourself from embarrassing yourself and admitting to it. You rake your fingers together, collecting the right words.

"Bob, I-"

"You... haven't fed properly, all day," he begins, eyeing you carefully. He sees it in the way your eyes are more frantic, you're jittery, and there's a sheen that looks like sweat across your brow.

You look at him, your heart pounding almost out of time to its normal beat, as Bob pulls back his sweater carefully, revealing the other side of his untouched skin. You feel the heartbeat there, strong, slightly fast.

"You can always... have some more now?" He asks, the softness in his voice is as if he's luring you out like a siren in the waters. It entices you easily, and you wish to just climb on top of him and commence there, but you're still cautious.

"Not here," you warn, and you look away from him, trying to ignore the briskness and liveliness coming from his chest. "If we were to do this, it would have to be in a room- yours maybe-"

"How about yours?" He asks, and the question has you wondering why he chose yours and not his. "I-mean... only if you want...there's nothing against using my room-"

"My room it is then." You stand up abruptly, startling him, taking him by the hand as you both not-so-subtly scurry together down the hallway.

Bob doesn't think he's ever been more nervous in his life to be entering someone's bedroom, let alone it being yours.

He feels similar to some teenage boy sneaking off to a girl's room, an experience he never had but is all too giddy in finally getting to try it.

Bob doesn't know what he thinks he's going to experience when he comes into your room. Walker's 'vampiric' stereotypes run through his mind, and he's oddly curious but fully aware you won't have blood on the walls, upside-down crosses hanging everywhere.

Your hand has not left yours since you thumb the door quickly, efficiently, opening it without a second thought, as you allowed him to step in first, you following.

He's certainly not expecting your room to look so... normal?

No coffin to sleep in.

No dead animals hanging around.

Just a simple, normal bedroom, filled with a slightly above-average number of plants.

You have a bookshelf of books of different genres he's read, old vinyls and a player sitting by your window, a pair of cosy slippers sitting by the end of your bed.

Bob notices a sketchbook half-scattered on your desk and is amazed that you like to draw. There's a familiar scent of vanilla or coconut or something fancy that Bob can't place what it is, but it's warm and smells like you, and he slowly feels enveloped by it.

There are fairy lights strewn over the top of your bed, hanging like hundreds of fireflies, and Bob thinks, no doubt, that this room is undeniably yours.

"Make yourself comfy." You say behind him, as Bob clumsily makes his way to your bed, stunned, the sheets feel so soft compared to his; he sinks into the mattress rather than the one in his room that makes him feel like he's sitting on bedrock.

His mind drowns him with unwanted thoughts: thoughts of imagining the two of you curled up with one another, sharing a space that was intimate in itself for just letting both of you be one.

"Bob," he looks up as he realises he's caught dissociating, looking to see you hovering by the door, eyes flashing between E/C and those golden-white ones, "you're so pretty."

The compliment rattles through him: body, mind and soul. He's opening and closing his mouth erratically, noises anyone would not think could be humanly possible to make are are you both can hear. He's scrambling to think of something to say, thinking- his mind screaming with different thoughts of things to say back to you.

"You're pretty, too-gorgeous even! Um, like pretty in the face and body-oh, that sounds so creepy, n-not like I'm staring at your body, I swear!-"

A giggle echoed in the softness of your room, and his heart hammers as if ready to be reached to and ripped from him. How someone like you can listen to him, even want to be with him, makes his mind spiral.

"You think I'm pretty, Bob?" You're lightly teasing him, stepping closer to him, observing him like he's prey, and he's sweating profusely, wishing he were doused in holy water for his racing thoughts. "Gorgeous?" You continue until you stand in front of him.

He's looking anywhere by at you, so scared he's going to mess things up, ruin your friendship if he does something-says something, and to watch everything he's tried making with you burn away.

He wishes the mattress could sink him further and further down into a nothing space, but he's so sure you can feel everything. Soft fingers hold his chin to make him look up at you, and all you do is smile down at him, and Bob feels weak.

"Do I scare you, Bob?" He hears it, the soft gravel in your tone, the growl that grips your question. You're ravenous, and he's enjoying this way too much.

"N-No," his voice is a shudder, his fingers fidget in wanting to touch you again, and he finds that they move on their own, moving tentatively over your hips, his eyes not leaving yours. "I'm not scared of you."

Humming, you lean over him until your mouth grazes lightly over the shell of his ear. "May I," he thinks you're going to ask something else, "bite you?"

He's so happy to be a part of this, nodding his head so enthusiastically that you fear it will roll off, presenting his neck to you as his anticipation rises. He forgets to take his sweatshirt off, but it doesn't matter, you have enough room.

You don't waste time this time, and Bob gasps all the same as before when you bite into him. This time, now being in the confines of four walls, his noises are louder.

"O-Oh." He whimpers unapologetically, large warm hands grip suddenly at you with the strength that still stuns you, pulling you until you're practically hovering over his lap. Bob doesn't stop there, finally tugging you as you move with him, leg sweeping over and caging him in.

His Adam's apple bobs, fingers holding you by your thighs, your waist, trailing higher towards your ribs, all whilst trying to concentrate on his breathing, despite hearing the rush of blood leaving his head.

He shifts you in his arms, and a rookie mistake is made by him, for he accidentally shifts you a bit too far forward. Your core catches his crotch, rubbing unintentionally the more you move.

Bob whines in the back of his throat, tears well in his eyes. It feels so good, but he feels terrified, having himself wrapped around your little finger. He wishes he could stay here, in your arms, embracing you for as long as possible.

You growl in the back of your throat, not human, the sound reverberates through from Bob's neck down into his chest, hammering like a bell. He thinks you're going to lose control, and he's ready to bring you back.

"Fuck, baby, I've got you." The pet name slips out quicker than he realises, but it feels good from him, earning a low whine to come from you.

It's sudden, but you love it; the word goes straight to your core shamefully. "I've got you-I've got you." Bob feels the rush of endorphins from it, the way he feels so trusted by you in his arms.

Your thighs tighten around him, trying to stop yourself from gyrating on top of him despite how tempting it is. He doesn't seem opposed to it; your bodies move to help you get better access to his neck, creating a gyrating movement that anyone who came in would see would be obvious, indicating that the two of you were making out.

There is something sensual building, unfamiliar, but it seems so normal for both of you, blossoming into something undeclared, personal.

Your mouth withdraws from his skin, a harsh, ragged exhale leaves you as if you've been choking down on air. Leaning over him, your faces are far closer than usual.

Bob works on instinct and does the unthinkable, his fingers tracing over your cheekbone, tucking back a piece behind your ear.

"You're so pretty," you whisper, like the two of you are sharing heartfelt secrets between one another. Your bloodied lips trace over his ear once more, and Bob finds himself struggling to breathe. "Such a pretty boy."

Bob groans louder than he expected, squeezing your hips, his legs tense and untense, trying to move you off his crotch as quickly as possible. The words hit him as if he were awaiting the waves to crash down on him; the suspense kills him, but he's more terrified of making the wrong move. He doesn't want to scare you off.

"You-you have no idea what you do to me." His voice comes out hoarse, deeper than expected, his blue eyes flash momentarily to a warm golden hue, then back to their usual.

You know he's nervous about engaging in something so new, balancing that with the possible fear that there might also be a part of him that is trying to make him feel the lowest.

Bob shakily exhales, pushing his face into your torso, hugging you a little tighter when he feels himself overworking his mind. That you're using him just for some sort of gain, the other part is certain you wouldn't be allowing him to do any of this with you.

'She thinks you're weak.' The Void speaks through him as if he's conversing with it, but Bob doesn't want to think of it. He wants to be enveloped in you, your warmth, your sunshine, not the darkness.

"Bob," you try to draw him out, trying to get him to look up at you, and it takes some prying before his eyes dart up to look at you. He's afraid, afraid he's messed things up, worsened the relationship or friendship between the two of you. "I'm here. You did such a good job."

"I did?" There is a light that comes from him when he hears it come directly from you. He peeks his head out a bit more, uncertain yet tentative.

"Always." You murmur, and the two of you spend some minutes just in each other's arms, telling him how proud you are of him, how good he is to you. He is silent in your arms, letting out small, exhales when he hears compliments come from you.

"You're too good for me." He says after some time, and it hurts to see him doubt himself. "I'm a mess."

"Sometimes that's what makes us us," you hum, stroking back his brown hair. "I wouldn't change you for anything."

The Golden Guardian, he is to some, but to you, he's just Bob, the Bob who makes you feel most like yourself, someone who didn't run away from you the moment they saw you.

Not the monster your parents had cast out so many years ago, selling you off to the military. He's your sanctuary, you're everything he wishes to worship.

"Let me get you cleaned up." You hop off him slowly, rising as you walk to the ensuite. You linger for a bit before disappearing, holding his hand to steady him, to help him through his breathing before he's sure he's okay.

"Sure-not going anywhere." Bob exhales, crashing backwards onto the sheets, trying to hide the obvious 'problem' that had grown in his sweatpants.

It's another two nights that pass before you see Bob's confidence begin to build. It's small, subtle, but there in the way he walks, how he talks to you and others. It's blinding, and you feel strangely clingy when you're not near him.

It's game night this time around in the Avengers' tower, pizza boxes strewn across the couch, beers and wine flowing as conversation comes easily, laughter too.

Music softly plays of some club song you've never heard of, watching in amusement as a drunk Alexei tries dancing in time to it, spurred on as he's cheered by almost everyone watching.

Yelena watches on in cringe, muttering as she looks anywhere but onwards, suddenly feeling that the music needs to be changed as she hurries off. The others cheer on as Alexei laughs with a bellowing roar, the beer in hand nearly spilling as he moves.

"What fun!" He's loud, louder than normal, your ears ring at the noises around you, but you feel your eyes drifting over Bob too many times to Bob.

He's been quiet, silent in his laughter as he observes everything around him, as he sips slowly at his Sprite. You're awestruck by him, so absorbed in staring at him, not feeling the couch dip on your right. Yelena has snuck her way to sit beside you, startling you as she whispers to you.

"You're drooling."

You react quickly, wiping your mouth to find nothing as Yelena laughs, watching the way you try to avoid her eyes and the attention of anyone else. "When were you going to tell me you and Bob were seeing each other?"

The music doesn't seem loud enough, and you wish to drown in it. You feel like people are staring, even when they're not. You downplay the situation as you nervously laugh, "What are you talking about, Lena?"

"I mean, when I saw Bob leave your room two nights ago."

The glass of wine almost crushes in your hand from how you're gripping it, your heart thrums uncontrollably. You're quiet for a second too long, and Yelena is given all the proof she needs that something is going on.

"It's cute," She whispers, ignoring the way you're trying to cover your face. Bob glances back at the two of you curiously, trying not to eavesdrop. "The two of you- so cute together."

"W-we're not-it's not-"

"You don't have to say anything, L/N," she winks, her smile wicked, "I know."

She's quickly gone before you can explain things, proclaiming that it was time to take Alexei back to his room before he does anything further embarrassing. You watch as it takes a team effort of Walker, Ava and Yelena to drag the larger Russian man out, laughing to yourself as you hear the mumbled struggles, Alexei slurring his words.

You snuggle into the couch, enjoying the silence after some time, a comfortable, not awkward one fills the air as you look up, seeing Bob shyly looking your way already.

"You want to join me?" You beckon him over as he stands from the beanbag, shuffling quietly in a pair of almost matching slippers you had bought for him when he said he wished he had a pair.

You both sit in silence again, listening to the sounds grow quieter, a hum of the kitchen light, a honk from a car outside. It's peace that you love sharing with Bob.

You put down your glass of red, head swimming with a need for a distraction, eyes trailing over Bob as if you're undressing him with your eyes. "Ready?" You ask when you're certain everyone is occupied.

Bob nods, placing his cup down, shuffling closer to you until you straddle him with ease. He takes it naturally, a long exhale leaves his lips as you feel bolder in teasing him, tracing your fangs lightly over his skin, feeling previous bites have slowly begun healing with time.

"Please, Y/N," he whines, and you hush him sweetly, taking your time with him. "I know, sweetie, I'm here for you." Your voice drops a bit lower, and you revel in sensing his heartbeat pick up faster when you move over him.

He's so obedient, and it makes your mind wander to how he would be as a partner. Your thighs clench, and you lean into his shoulder, relieving him of the wait.

He grunts, not as loudly as before, as you drink slowly from him, sensually, hips rolling as you're taken up in a lull. Your mind short-circuits, you forget where you are, so emboldened by him and his words of encouragement, his hands guiding you.

You shock him, though, when you press kisses into his neck, trailing up his jaw as you leave bloody kiss marks the higher you go. Bob stares up at you, mesmerised, licking his lips unintentionally to see your bloody mouth.

You can't stop yourself now, and the words that come next from you take you to the final step.

"Want a taste?"

Bob swallows thickly, eyes trailing from your mouth to your eyes, glowing, then back down to your lips. He's hungry in a way you don't think someone like him would be, but he's so sweet in how he pleads. Morbid curiosity has taken over, but he's aware of how you mean to let him taste his blood.

"Please-yes please." You don't know who leans in first, but lips envelop yours, soft and warm. Bob tastes the iron on his lips, strong, and he thinks that you must've turned him at some point-because why is he so obsessed?

Your kiss starts slowly, testing the waters as you pull back inches from him to gauge his reactions, smiling when he chases your lips before diving in for more.

You're so caught up in it all, kissing him, feeling him move beneath you, the way he whispers your name. He kisses you a bit harder now, his tongue swipes curiously over your bottom lip as he tastes a bit more, kissing openly and a little bit more brazenly.

The elevator rises slowly, neither of you noticing, hands touching in places as Bob feels over you tentatively, whispering that pet name you love oh-so-much.

The doors to the elevator chime open. Bucky is tired from a full day of meetings, talking to congress, and wishing for a drink and bed, turning on the light as he's in his own world-

"Oh, what the fuck!"

You pull off, leaning back onto the couch and off Bob slightly, when you hear the voice behind you. Bob still holds you, trying to shield himself as you watch Bucky with equal parts shock and annoyance.

"It's not what you think-"

"No, I'm just going to pretend I didn't walk in on this." Bucky sounds like a disappointed dad as he averts his gaze from the two of you.

The shock brings hurried footsteps to approach, Walker is the first to round the corner to the scene. "Oh fuck-What the fuck, Y/N?"

Ava and Yelena are making small murmurs as they look over it as well. Ava is like Bucky, looking the other way, but Yelena is smiling- fucking smiling- as she gives the thumbs up your way.

"I get you want to get in each other's pants," Walker continues, "but I didn't think I was going to walk in on you eating Bob!"

To them, it made sense that it looked like they walked in on a crime scene: Bob is covered in blood. His mouth, neck and most of his face are smeared. His hair is tousled beyond saving, his sweater is pulled and covered in blood. You've done terribly in trying not to stain the couch, but blood has splattered onto the pillows and blanket.

You try to explain yourself, but there is a noise that has entered the room that feels primal, sudden.

The growl to emit in the room does not come from you, and surprisingly, everyone turns their head directly to who is beneath you.

"Get out." Bob's voice is low, commanding, and it brings everyone in the room to feel a sense of apprehension. This doesn't sound like him; his voice is his own, but it holds power, strength.

The grip around your waist is hiding his excitement from the others, but it is possessive as he repeats the same words, louder this time, somewhat more demanding. "Get. Out."

Everyone moves as if on autopilot. Yelena and Ava scoop a confused Walker out of the room. Bucky shakes his head as he walks the other way down to his room. There is nothing said again from them as they leave the two of you in complete silence.

"Holy shit," you utter when there is no noise, no giggles, no words of astonishment. Looking down towards Bob, he's so caught up in being with you that he hasn't even clocked what happened. "That-that was hot."

Bob blushes as he pulls you down to his level, kissing you deeply to either occupy your thoughts with him again or to shut you up. You greedily kiss back, knowing the next day, breakfast will bring many questions and awkward 'birds and bees' conversations, but you don't care, not when you're with your Bob.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts #new avengers #thunderbolts*#bob thunderbolts #robert bob reynolds #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds x y/n #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x you

175 notes · View notes

reiding-writing · 2 days ago

Text

AMALGAMATION. /spencer reid/

you and spencer both spring to provide gideon the best gift you can think of. and it’s the same thing.

early s1 enemy!reader 1.2k fluff series masterlist. main masterlist.

AN | thank you to this request for so many wonderful ideas 🙏 i did change hotch to gideon for the fatherly love rivalry aspect

You don’t mean to start a war, truly, you don’t.

You just want to do something thoughtful. Something meaningful. Something that says, Hey, Gideon, thank you for believing in me even when I doubted myself. Even when I called you “sir” for the first six months because I was too terrified to address you by name.

A gift. Something personal. Something useful. Something clever.

A chess set.

Because what else would you get Gideon, the FBI’s resident father figure who finds peace between cases only through pawn structures and the occasional warbler?

You put thought into it. Not just any chess set—no, that would be too easy. You find one that’s travel-sized, elegant but not showy, and every single piece is represented by a different bird. The rook is a cardinal. The knight, a hawk mid-flight. The queen is an elegant egret, long neck curved like a question mark. It’s brilliant, perfect. It screams you know Gideon.

You wrap it carefully, the same way you handle evidence at a crime scene. Plain brown craft paper, twine string, A simple tag: Happy Birthday. For your next checkmate.

When the day arrives, you hand it over after the little surprise the team managed to scrape together in the conference room. Someone brought a cake — Garcia, probably. Morgan made a joke about Gideon’s age and walked away alive, somehow. JJ coordinated it all like it was a press briefing. Hotch even smiled. Briefly.

Gideon opens your gift first. He lifts the lid, sees the bird-shaped pieces nestled in velvet, and you swear his eyes soften.

Then Spencer hands him his gift.

Another chess set.

You blink.

He smiles—Spencer, that is—just a bit too smug for your liking. “It’s an antique,” he explains, in that maddeningly informative way of his. “Late Victorian era. Hand-carved. Originally from a small village outside Prague,”

You glance at the ornate wood pieces, each shining with a patina of age and reverence. It smells faintly of cedar and old books. Damn him.

The team erupts into laughter.

“Wow, Gideon,” Morgan says, holding his stomach. “You really have no other personality outside of chess, huh?”

“Or birds,” Elle adds, peering into your box. “Look at this one—it’s a pelican,”

JJ raises an eyebrow. “I think this is amazing. Same idea, completely different execution,”

Hotch just says, “Fitting,” which somehow sounds ominous coming from him.

You glare at Spencer. Spencer raises a brow in return.

You both say nothing, because you’re not about to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing how absolutely mortified you are that you gave the same gift. But worse than the embarrassment is the knowledge dawning between you and Reid with crystalline clarity.

This is now a competition.

—

The first time Gideon uses a set post-birthday, it’s yours. You spot him on the jet, seated alone near the back, bird chess pieces flanking either side of the board in battle formation. His hands move slowly, thoughtfully, a egret queen gliding into centre.

You resist the urge to gloat. You’re mature, at least in comparison to Spencer, you think. You simply snap a picture and send it to him with no caption.

Two days later, Spencer updates the whiteboard in the bullpen. A small corner, barely noticeable. It reads:

Gideon’s Chess Set Usage

Birds – 1

Antique – 0

You smile.

It gets worse. Or better, depending on how you view obsession.

Every time Gideon plays chess, one of you is nearby, lurking like a shark in shallow water. Watching. Tallying. Competing.

He doesn’t seem to mind. If he notices the battle, he gives no indication. Which is somehow even more infuriating.

“Not surprised he used the bird one again. Lightweight, easy to carry.”

“Yes, but the antique one has historic value. Psychological gravity. You wouldn’t understand.”

Then it escalates.

You start sabotaging. Not real sabotage, of course—you’re not a monster. Just little things.

One day, you smuggle one of the antique knights out of the office.

“Oh no,” you say, completely deadpan. “I think the hawk ate it.”

Spencer doesn’t laugh.

Another time, you find the aptly chosen kingfisher king piece has been dropped into a mug of lukewarm tea.

“I think the Queen staged a coup,” Spencer says with a shrug.

It’s your turn for stony silence.

Gideon, however, remains unbothered.

“Where’s your chess set?” you ask him one morning on the jet, trying to sound casual.

“Didn’t bring one this trip,” he says, sipping coffee and looking out the window.

“What? Why?”

He shrugs. “My pieces seem to mysteriously disappear,”

You nearly scream.

—

The team catches on eventually.

You should’ve known they would.

Emily is the first to notice the whiteboard. “You’ve been keeping score?”

You shrug, entirely too smug. “Just curious.”

Morgan laughs for a full two minutes. “You two are so competitive.”

JJ backs you up. “It’s kind of sweet. Like two kids vying for dad’s attention,”

You want to protest. You do. But Spencer beats you to it. “It’s not about that,” he says, a little too quickly. “It’s about data. Statistics,”

“Oh, sure,” Morgan drawls. “Definitely not about needing Gideon’s approval,”

Spencer glares.

You glare harder.

The whiteboard reads:

Birds – 5

Antique – 4

You cling to your narrow lead like a child with a balloon.

—

It goes on for weeks.

Cases blur together. States, cities, crime scenes. You chase serial killers by day, and tally chess sets by night. Gideon alternates with frustrating inconsistency. One trip it’s yours. The next, Spencer’s. Once, both—one game on each set, back-to-back. You call that one a tie. Spencer disagrees.

You update the board daily. The numbers tick higher.

At some point, Hotch starts erasing the tally when he needs space for case notes. You and Reid just write it back in the corner again. It becomes part of the bullpen scenery. Like the coffee pot, or Garcia’s glitter pens.

Birds – 12

Antique – 12

The margin narrows. Tensions rise. You and Spencer stop pretending this isn’t the most important metric of your life.

Then one day, you’re on the jet, returning from a long, grim case in Montana. Everyone’s tired. Sleepy. JJ is curled up under a blanket. Morgan is listening to music. Hotch has a file open but hasn’t turned a page in an hour.

And Gideon opens a travel case.

Inside: a modern tragedy.

Your cardinal rook.

Spencer’s antique bishop.

Your hawk knight.

His carved queen.

You blink.

“What… is that?” Spencer asks, brow furrowed.

Gideon doesn’t look up from the board. “Custom set,” he says. “I seem to be missing certain pieces from both sets,”

You and Spencer stare in horror.

“You can’t do that,” you say.

“Why not?” Gideon asks.

“It’s sacrilege,” Spencer says. “It’s—statistically invalid.”

Gideon just smiles as he begins a solo match. The whiteboard remains untouched that week.

#enemy!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

182 notes · View notes

nakylvr · 22 hours ago

Text

— FANTASY ✧ M.S

summary જ⁀➴ working at a coffee shop in los angeles had its perks and drawbacks. you got a lot of business in the area, which was nice. then you got the bad customers thinking they were better than anyone else. one day during your shift, you're met with megan, the superstar of katseye — only you have no idea who she is.

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ fluff, transmasc!reader, barista!reader, idol!megan,

happy pride month everyone! part two coming soon 😋 i didnt know how to end it im sawry, not proofread

"iced caramel macchiato for logan!"

standing at the register, you were taking count of the total sales for the day so far, writing them down on the small post-it note you kept in your apron along with your pen. you hear the front door bell jingle, and you instantly look up to see a girl walking inside.

"welcome to starry night!" you call loud enough for the customer to hear, sticking the post-it on the cash register to remember for later.

the girl approaches the register, and you send a smile her way. "hey! what can i get for you?"

the girl proceeds to list six different drinks, all with random variations and flavors or milks. you nod along, putting it in the system and writing on the cups, and when you ask for a name for the order, she freezes.

"um," megan lets out. "megan is fine." she answers.

"got it." you nod, putting the name on the ticket. "anything else for you?"

"no, that's it." she shakes her head.

"alright. it'll be $36.78 for you." you tell her, spinning the tablet around.

you're trying not to stare, you are. you've gotten used to attractive people coming into the shop all the time, but there was something different about her. you aren't sure why. you haven't seen her before, that's for sure. but she looks like she walked straight out of a magazine. taller than you by an inch or two, her ginger hair curled and her outfit was enough for you to go: she's definitely somebody. that being said, you knew better than to flirt with customers, so you don't say anything as she pays.

"we'll call your name down at the end when it's ready." you tell her with a smile.

"thanks." she smiles back, and you swear your heart does flips.

you leave the register to get the cup carriers for the drinks, and offer your coworker to work register while you make the drinks. not wanting to keep the line waiting with the six drinks being made at the same time.

meanwhile, megan's eyes don't stray away from you. they watch your movements as you make the drinks with expertise and like it was nothing. you put the drinks on the trays as you finish them, and her eyes meet yours for a moment. she quickly averts her eyes, pretending she was looking at something else.

you finish the drinks and put them all in the trays before putting them on the edge of the counter. "here you go!" you tell the girl.

megan stares for a few seconds, contemplating whether to push past her anxiety and ask what she wants to ask. you don't walk away, and she takes that as a somewhat good sign.

"miss?" you say.

megan's snapped out of her thoughts, and the words come stumbling out. "can i get your number?"

now's your turn to pause. you stare back at her with widened eyes, not expecting that. "uhm," you let out. this is definitely a first. "uh."

megan waves her hand, reaching forward to grab the drink trays. "forget it. it was stupid, i just–"

"no, no, it's okay." you shake your head, grabbing the post-it notes from your pocket and a pen. "this is just a first." you laugh nervously, scribbling your number down on the paper. "here." you hand it over to her.

megan blinks. "really?"

"unless you were joking–"

"no!" megan says quickly, taking the post-it and putting it in her pocket. "s-sorry, um, thank you!" she smiles, grabbing the drink trays with rosy cheeks. "i'll um i'll text you..."

"yn." you finish for her, putting the pen and post-its back in your apron pocket.

"i'll text you, yn." she says, and then she walks out of the shop.

watching her leave, your coworker comes rushing to you. "dude, did you just give that girl your number?"

"it's none of your business, jason." you tell him, rolling your eyes.

"do you even know who she is?" your coworker continues.

"no? this is literally the first time i've seen her. why are you–"

"dude!" your coworker hands you his phone, showing a picture of none other than the girl you just gave your number. "she's like, famous! she has over a million followers on insta!"

you raise an eyebrow at him. "and?"

"i can't believe you're gonna bag a baddie what the fuck!" he whines, stomping his foot on the ground.

"you're a child." you tell him blankly.

"whatever, man!" he says. "just don't get upset if she doesn't make time for you."

"go take orders." you shove him towards the register, done with him.

a little later when you're done with your shift, you sit in your car and a message comes through. it's from an unknown number, but a small smile pulls on your lips when you read it.

unknown

hi, yn! it's megan! thank you for making the drinks, my friends really enjoyed them! u want to meet up somewhere tmrw? i'm off and have nothing to do :(

you chuckle at the end, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before you respond.

i'm off at 2 tmrw. i'll give you a free drink if you stop by

she responds almost immediately.

unknown

really?

yeah!

unknown

great! i'll be there :)

i'll be waiting

the thread ends there, and you put your phone back down. with a smile on your face, you put your car into drive and start on your way back home.

#katseye thoughts 💭#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #megan skiendiel thoughts 💭#megan skiendiel x reader

180 notes · View notes

dailynnt · 3 days ago

Text

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 16/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: My dear Army, hi 🥰🥺 I wrote a new chapter to you and I want to say it turned out to be emotional 🥺 I was writing it and thinking all the time, did I was not cruel to my heroine, but then I thought she has to go through pain to get her biggest reward in the future 🥹🙏🏻 I even cried at the end 😭😄 Tell me, is it normal for an author to cry from her own work? 🤭 So I look forward to your feedback! You know I'm really looking forward to them and appreciate every comment 😭💘 Enjoy ✨🥰

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @someoneelse0109, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @someoneelse0109, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97, @taeloversblog, @songbyeonkim, @miniruuu, @hubbytaehyung, @queen1599, @goldenboysmuse , @nikkinikj, @kookiesncreamri, @guwol, @unholyforjk, @hisdecalcomania17, @kooklovee (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 16. Fate, which mocks

You couldn't relax. Jungkook who just finished talking on the phone, sat to your left, leaning back. One of his hands confidently held the leather steering wheel, the other rested calmly on the gear lever.

You stole glances at him several times a minute. He looked calm, even a little thoughtful, while your mind was raging. As soon as you thought back to the morning's events-the way his fingers had squeezed your breasts, the way the belt had whipped your buttocks, the way his voice had murmured low in your ear-you felt the familiar throbbing between your thighs.

You clenched your knees.

"God. Think of something else. Anything."

You turned your gaze to the window, trying to calm down, looking at the stream of cars that crawled along the road with his black Mercedes. It was Sunday morning, but Seoul is always crowded, always bustling.

You didn't notice Jungkook give you a brief but intense glance. His eyes slid over your image - a tight cream skirt, a white blouse, fingers tightly clutching the strap of your bag, and those lips of yours that you kept biting.

He sighed slightly and gripped the steering wheel tighter. His thoughts were far from innocent. He still felt like he had the taste of your skin on his tongue.

"You look like you're on your way to confess to high treason," Jungkook joked quietly, slyly peering out from under his eyelashes. You turned your head sharply at him when you heard his voice.

"I... um..." you trailed off. In fact, you were more worried about the morning's sex than about the work itself. Though the thought of going back to work after all that was really scary. "I'm a little... nervous," you said, looking down and fixing your hair. "I feel like I haven't been to work in forever."

"You don't have to worry, you're good at your job and you'll do even better this time," he said gently. "So relax. Don't look like you've killed someone... or done something much worse."

Your face instantly flushed.

"Don't start," you muttered.

"Don't start what?" Jungkook replied with feigned innocence, but there was a familiar sparkle in his eyes. "I didn't say anything at all."

"But you thought!" you complained, swallowing a wave of new memories of how well he had done you this morning. You glanced down at his lips and looked back up at the road.

"How can I not think about you?" he asked rhetorically. You cleared your throat, trying to calm the chaos inside you.

"Like thinking, only the other way around," you said seriously. Jungkook laughed softly. Luckily for you, he got a call and for most of the rest of the trip, you drove listening to him another talk business.

When you reached the ʼEON Creativeʼ headquarters, Jungkook slowed down smoothly, stopping at the entrance. You clutched your purse.

"Thank you for the ride..." you said gratefully, but before you could finish your sentence, Jungkook leaned over the armrest and got close to your face.

"Will I see you tonight?" he asked in a low purring tone. You froze, looking at his lips.

"Why?" you said, frightened. It was automatic. It was just... you weren't expecting such a question.

"What do you mean ‘why’?" Jungkook wondered. "I think we have unfinished business." His fingers touched your cheek. He leaned closer and you automatically closed your eyes. But instead of a kiss, there was only the touch of his nose on your cheekbone, his breath tickling your skin Jungkook's lips gently touched your cheekbone, moving up to your ear. "I have more to show you."

"Jungkook," you called, protesting slightly. He pulled away from your ear, looking into your eyes.

"What did I asked you to call me?" his voice was low, deep. Not angry. No. But slightly possessive, demanding. You reflexively squeezed his hand harder, and he felt it.

"Kook," you corrected yourself, quickly. He looked at you for a moment, and that was enough for you to see his eyes soften. He didn't let you say anything else, because in the next moment he pressed his lips to yours in a full, hot kiss. His tongue entered your mouth easily, and you surrendered. It was sweet. And... too good.

You even forgot that you had to go, you were probably late already. But no matter, for some reason his lips were more important.

Jungkook put his hand on your knee, and without hesitation, he slid his hand under your skirt. He slowly raised his hand up your thigh. You should have stopped him... but you couldn't.

"Kook, stop," you mutter, forcing your lips away from his. He doesn't let you rest and continues kissing you, his hand already reaching your underwear. His fingers gently touch your aroused center and you squeeze his shoulders with your fingers.

"It's almost impossible," Jungkook says as he pulls away from your lips. He goes down to your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. He massages your clit without letting himself push back the fabric of your thong. Because if he did, he would have to fuck you for the second time this morning.

Your brain is frozen, but your body is on fire.

"I'm going to be late," you breathed out, giving him better access to your neck.

Jungkook's lips lifted to yours and you opened your eyes, breathing deeply, excited.

"Do you want me to fuck you now?" he asks seriously. You are dumbfounded. He can't be serious! Not this soon. You seem to be crazy about each other. Why do you two, want to fuck every free minute?

"Kook, I'm really late..." you said in desperation. Jungkook pushed your underwear aside and touched your wet clit. You were soaked and it was no surprise to him. His cock is also hardened. But he's late for the meeting, too. No matter how much Jungkook wants to fuck you, he has to hold back. But to tease you, to get you excited so that you'll come back tonight just to finish the that you two started - that's his real intention.

You bit your lip, holding your breath as his fingers touched your clit. Jungkook's handsome face is just centimeters away and you can't stand that hungry look. You close your eyes again.

"Answer the question," Jungkook whispers against your lips. His middle finger penetrates you. You squeezed your shoulders and moaned softly. At the same time, his other finger pressed on your clit. He's teased you and now you really want to.

"Yes," you say barely.

"Say it clearly," he demands, his voice fogging your mind as his fingers move deeper.

"Yes, Kook. I want you to fuck me now," you say more clearly. You open your eyes and see his sly look and sly smile, and for some reason you don't like it. He speeds up his movements inside you, and on your clit too. You can feel your orgasm coming.

Jungkook kisses you, deeply, a little roughly, and you come on his finger, squeezing his palm between your legs. You moan into his mouth, and when the peak of pleasure passes, he releases your lips.

Jungkook pulls his palm out from under your skirt and licks his fingers defiantly. Your cheeks are red, and your hair is a little disheveled. He gently adjusts your skirt and then your blouse.

He kisses you briefly on the lips.

"Pervert..." he whispered barely audibly against your lips. You smiled, it was both so embarrassing and so funny to hear him say that word.

"You... aren't exactly 'normal' either," you whispered back, and his smile grew wider.

"I know."

Jungkook let go of you. You looked in the mirror, checking to see if you could see your recent satisfaction. Your hair was a mess. You decided to let your hair down, it would look neater. Your lips were still swollen. But you had already pulled yourself together.

Your gaze slid down and you saw the fabric of his jeans stretched in obvious arousal. But he feigned calm. You smiled.

"Can you handle it?" you couldn't help but ask mockingly, glancing at his crotch.

"Don't worry, I'll calm down soon," he said with a sly smile. You pressed your lips together, nodding your head as if to agree with his statement.

"Okay, thanks for the ride. And for the wet underwear," you fixed your hair again, finally opened the car door and got out. Jungkook leaned over the armrest, throwing a look at your back.

"So you're coming tonight?" he said hopefully. He was more than sure that you would say yes.

"You are so insatiable. Give me a break," you said, faking indignation. Jungkook laughed.

"If you don't come to me, I'll come to you myself." he said. You threw your purse over your shoulder, and felt the wetness between your legs and the echoes of your orgasm.

"I won't open the door for you," you teased.

"Than I'll know your pin code, it won't be a problem for me, you know that."

You gasped in surprise, but you weren't angry or protesting. You smiled to show that it was all a joke.

"You're so persistent," you said. Jungkook smiled again, tongue touching the piercing in his lip.

"I know that's your favorite thing about me."

You barked out a laugh.

"Maybe it's also the thing I hate most about you. Bye." You said and walked away. Jungkook watched your back, not wanting to let you out of his sight until the last moment.

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime, and you tried to focus. But your mind kept clinging to what Jungkook had called you as he left.

"Pervert..."

You pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose, unable to stop smiling. Trying to calm yourself down. This man is really a bad influence on you. He also takes up too much space in your thoughts. You exhaled sharply and blinked a few times, thinking that this would make the thoughts of Jungkook disappear.

The elevator stopped at the top floor. You took a breath, stepped out onto the company floor, and walked confidently down the corridor. Greetings with colleagues were dry and distant.

No one asked how you were doing. And no one was happy to your return, except for Jisu, who immediately threw herself into your arms. You felt every eye that was directed at you. It was as if you were a random person here.

"Y/N, go to the conference room. They are waiting for you there," Jisu said. You nodded gratefully and left.

The meeting room was half empty, but the atmosphere was tense.

Kang Yongwon was sitting at the table, with a young man and a girl next to him. They both immediately looked up at you, and there was nothing but undisguised interest in their eyes. As if you had just been laid out on a plate.

"You're finally here," Yongwon smiled showing his feigned joy, and he nodded his hand to a chair, inviting you to sit down.

"Greeting," you bowed, and walked over to the table, listening to your own heartbeat. You quickly glanced in the direction of the boss and noticed that he was looking you over from head to toe, lingering on the neckline of your blouse and your legs. That look made you feel terribly. Just like before. The disgusting feeling is so familiar.

Nothing has changed.

"This is Seo Yuna and Min Jaehwan. They'll be working with you on the project," he said getting straight to business. His voice became serious and his gaze piercing. "Han Y/N-shi, I chose them to be a good support for you. Your task will be to tell them everything. Starting from the stage when the first idea appeared. So that they better understand where and how you need help."

You blinked. You glanced quickly at the people you were about to work with and felt tension fill every cell in your body.

"Excuse me... what about Jisu? We've always worked together... I thought she would be on the team..."

"She's involved in another important project," Yongwon explained coldly. "And these two are with you now. They'll be fine for you."

Yuna smiled, tilting her head.

"It's nice to meet you. I just recently joined the company." She held out her hand to you. You hesitated for a moment and then gently shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you," you squeezed out of yourself.

Jaehwan was the next to shake your hands.

"The honor is mine. Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to meet you before. But I've heard a lot of... good things." He stuttered after the word "a lot," and you barely stopped yourself from cringing. You imagined he had heard "good things" about you.

Great. You don't know them. Absolutely not.

You, your team, and your boss sat around for a while organizing the work. You shared the main details of the project, but that's it. For the next three days, you have a lot of work to do with these two people, so you have to focus and do a good job.

You walked out of the meeting room and noticed that Yuna followed your boss into his office. It didn't seem strange, maybe they were having a conversation or he had some work for her.

But knowing how weak your boss is in front of beautiful women and in the eternal search for Miss Kang, you doubted it. You're lucky if his focus shifts away from you, so you can work in the company in peace when you return.

You were met by Jisu and you went to lunch together in the cafe on the first floor of the company. Your friend asked you unceremoniously about Jungkook and whether you had made a make up with him. You awkwardly answered yes. She demanded more details, but you joked that little girls like her shouldn't know. And Jisu exploded. She started to pester you until you told her some of the truth about the night before, but not much else.

After lunch with Jisu, you ordered a taxi and went home. You went about your daily routine, putting away the laundry, wiping down the table, and going through the mail. You called your grandmother and talked to her. Fortunately, she was doing well. You told her that you were going to participate in a prestigious competition to present your project, and she was very happy for you.

Then you sat down at laptop again, to prepared some files for tomorrow.

Almost a day passed like that. And the closer it got to evening, the more you thought about Jungkook. His request to come over in the evening because "you had unfinished business" made your insides tremble. You glanced at your phone. The screen was black.

What should you do? Should you wait for him to text or just go to him yourself? But then he'd think you were a real pervert who hadn't had enough in the morning. You sighed and lightly massaged your temples with your fingers, trying to calm your thoughts.

"No. I'm not going to see him. We... we have sex all the time. If it goes on like this, I'll fall in love. And then that's it. Another pain in the ass. No. Thank you."

But the memories treacherously made you remember moment. The morning. His voice, the promise to explore your darkest desires... and suddenly, memory threw up one very specific detail.

A conversation. He wanted to talk about something, even before he handcuffed you. You intended to ask about the conversation in the car. But there was no right moment. Jungkook kept talking on the phone, and then... he finger fuck you.

You need to know what he wanted to discuss. You grabbed the phone, mentally reassuring yourself that this was not another opportunity to be with him.

📱 8:22 p.m. | You: "Are you home?"

You wrote briefly. Jungkook read it in less than half a minute. The number ‘2’ appeared next to your message.

📲 8.22 p.m. | Jungkook: "Yes. I've been waiting for you for ages here 😏"

You couldn't hold back a smile. Warmth swept through your body and settled somewhere in the pit of your stomach. Butterflies. They are here again.

But he wasn't waiting for a conversation. And to cool things down a bit, you quickly dialed another one:

📱 8.23. p. m. | You: "You wanted to talk to me in the morning. We never did. Was it an important conversation or can it wait until we see each other? Or you can write me here."

You looked at the screen nervously. Your pride made you look reserved: you weren't running to him, just looking for an explanation. But inside... you wanted him to say: "Come."

Animated dots appeared on the screen.

📲 8.24 p.m. Jungkook: "Of course this is an important conversation. And it can't wait until tomorrow. Come to me, or... if you want, I'll come to you?"

Your heart fluttered. You smiled, happy that he had lived up to your expectations.

Your fingers hit the sensor, typing a message to him.

📱 8.24 p.m. | You: "I'll come to you in 20 minutes. I have to finish work,"

You lied so that you would have time to shower and look perfect.

📲 8.24 p.m. | Jungkook: "I'll wait. Did you have dinner? Should I order something?"

You look at the screen, biting your lip. Your eyes are shining and you can't stop smiling. It looks like you have a date. But you recover in time to write the next message.

📱 8.25 p.m. | You: "No. I'm not hungry. I'll come over and we'll just talk."

Jungkook doesn't respond for about a minute, and then you get his last message.

📲 8.25 p.m. | Jungkook: "Hurry up, kitten. I really want to talk to you."

You turned off the screen. Butterflies stirred in your stomach again. But you knew he not just wanted to talk to you, he wants more than just that. And you didn't mind.

Going to the bathroom, you quickly took a shower. Then you gently smeared a delicate cream with coconut and almonds on your body - the scent was light, barely perceptible, but it beckoned to touch.

You put on soft cotton pants, a white top, and a loose shirt. It seemed like nothing special. But underneath the clothes was a thin cream-colored lace underwear that gave you confidence and hidden temptation.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you picked up the phone and went out into the hallway. The door to Jungkook's apartment was immediately in your field of vision. You approached it slowly. You stopped at the door. Your heart was pounding. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the doorbell button.

The door opened almost instantly, and you froze - he was standing there in wide black sweatpants, wearing a white oversized T-shirt, but his silky, slightly disheveled hair and relaxed look made him illegally attractive, even in his homey look.

You wanted to make a move to go in, but you felt Jungkook grab your wrist and pull you inside. His lips instantly captured yours. The door closed behind you somewhere in the background, but you didn't notice it.

Your body was between it and the wall. His tongue persistently explored every inch of yours, and for a moment you forgot why you had come at all. You put your hands on his chest, feeling him squeeze your buttocks, holding you close as he could.

You tried to turn your head to the side, to push him away a little, but Jungkook didn't even think to stop. His arms held you steady. Jungkook's kiss was hot, greedy, too sincere not to make you want to respond. But you forced yourself to pull away.

"Kook..." you breathed out under your breath, trying not to give in to the wave of desire. "We... that's not why... I didn't come here..."

"Then why?" he murmured, leaning down to your lips again. "If not for that, then why do you smell like that... why do you look like that... and why is your heart beating like crazy?" his voice was low, husky, and impossibly seductive.

"Oh, God," you breathed out. When he touched his lips to your earlobe. Your legs refused to hold you. You need to get away from him, otherwise you'll never talk. "Talk first, then everything else," you thought. "The conversation. You said it was important."

Jungkook pulled away from your sweet skin and looked into your eyes.

"Conversation..." he grumbled and touched your lips again, briefly, softly, as if he couldn't help himself. "But how can we talk when you're standing in front of me like this? How am I supposed to think when all day long I've been imagining you coming to me like this, and for another reason..."

"Jungkook!" you grabbed him sharply by the front folds of his T-shirt, finally pulling out of his arms. You removed his hands and stepped away. He looked at you, taking a deep breath, as if trying to collect himself. "We have to talk," you said again, more confidently. "If you really wanted me to know something important, let's get down to business. I didn't come here for sex."

Jungkook was silent for a few seconds, looking into your eyes. His gaze became serious, and you could read the tension in it. He sighed in frustration and walked toward the bar. You watch him, arms crossed over your chest.

Jungkook took two beers, placed one on the table next to the couch, and opened the other immediately.

"You want one?" he offered softly. You looked at him, evaluating his offer, and decided to drink. You didn't know what the conversation would be like or about, so alcohol might ease the growing excitement inside you.

You took a can of beer and sat down next to him. You were silent, watching him as he opened the can for himself and took a few sips.

"How is your halmoni doing?" he suddenly asked. You froze with the can of beer at your lips. You took a slow sip and answered.

"She's fine, why do you ask about her?"

A slight smile touched his lips. You raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I just want to know how she is. I haven't asked you about her since. Since we came back from Busan."

You raised your eyebrows and took a sip of your beer.

"She's fine," you say shortly, again. When Jungkook doesn't say anything, you look up at him. He looks thoughtful.

"And how is your mother? Has she called you since?" he asks another question.

You think about it for a moment and realize that your mother hasn't really called you since then, and your grandmother hasn't mentioned her either.

"No, she hasn't called anymore," you say. Your eyes narrow and you look suspiciously at Jungkook, who takes another sip of beer. "You didn’t touch her, did you?" you ask. Jungkook freezes for a split second, but you catch that micro-movement.

"No, I didn't do anything," he says confidently, but he doesn't look you in the eye.

"Look me in the eye and tell me the same thing," you demanded.

Jungkook slowly turned his gaze to you. His dark eyes momentarily revealed something-a shadow of emotion, a memory, or a reproach to himself. But in a second, it disappeared, and a familiar mask of calm appeared on his face.

"I didn't touch her," he repeated in a steady tone. "I promise."

You stared at him, trying to figure out if you could believe his words. But Jungkook, as always, was opaque. Just like when it was easy for him to hide who he really was.

You kept your eyes on him for a moment longer and then nodded.

"Okay."

Meanwhile, Jungkook turned away and took another sip of beer. But there was a memory in his head that he didn't want to say out loud.

This morning when he was jogging, he was talking to Manager Lee. They discussed the fact that you were illegitimate Kang Tehwon's daughter and Manager Lee assured him that he had checked the information well and that it was definitely true. Jungkook was shocked by the news. He couldn't believe it and had to ask you personally what you knew about your father.

Jungkook remembered what your mother had said when she came to your grandmother's house:

"You found yourself a rich man... He will leave you as soon as he gets tired of you. Just like your father did to me..."

So far, everything was coming together. Jungkook also mentioned that he had promised you that your mother would give you back everything she had taken from your grandmother. This woman, who had no right to be called your mother, should pay for her years of terror.

Jungkook ordered the manager:

"Check if Y/N’s mother has debts. If so, then find those who are keeping her in debt. And pay them off. But do it not on my behalf, but on hers, but she must not know anything."

"You mean secretly?" the manager clarified. Jungkook nodded his head, but Lee didn't see it, so he said it out loud.

"That's right. I want this woman to think that she paid everything herself. I want her to think that she's pulled that money out of her own flesh and blood. I want her to lose everything and to be left with nothing."

"I see. How much do you want to spend on this?" the manager's voice was as serious as ever.

"Up to five million won. If it's more than that, I'll need a separate report." Jungkook sighed as he stopped in front of the front door of the multi-storey building where he lived.

"Okay," Lee said shortly.

"One more thing. Have her literally sell everything she has: her clothes, her furniture, her house. You can even simulate pressure from the 'creditors'. But she must believe that this is her own 'success'. When she pays off everything, find her a job with housing in another city and send her there. If she starts drinking there, it will be her problem. The money received from Y/N's mother, put on deposited to grandmother's account. Find it out through the hospital where she was treated." Jungkook was silent for a moment, raised his head and looked up at upstairs of the house, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Jungkook-nim, I understand, I'm already looking for people for your plan."

"Good, keep me posted. Also, find out Y/N's account number. She needs to deposit 7 million won into the account."

"Transfer 7 million through your personal account?" asked Lee, immediately thinking correctly.

"Yes. So that my father doesn't see the money." confirmed Jungkook.

"Why are you interested in her and halmoni? It's suspicious," you say, making your assumptions.

"I'm just curious about your family, is that bad?" Jungkook sat down deeper, turning to face you. You looked at him sideways.

"My mother is not part of my family." you said, looking down. Your voice suddenly became lower, calmer, but painfully sincere. "We've always had a... bad relationship. You could see that back in Busan."

Jungkook noticed the change in your voice and it tightened his chest.

"Why is your relationship like that?"

You put down your beer and sat down deeper on the couch. You pulled your legs under you, wrapping your arms around them.

"She..." you hummed, "she hated me. And I probably hated her too. She was always drinking. Always. Drunk is my only memory of her from childhood. Angry. Cold. And indifferent." Your voice trembled, but you continued, "My mother... never wanted me. I don't remember her hugging me once. And I never felt like I had a mom. My mom is my halmoni. And that woman... is just the woman who gave birth to me."

Jungkook was watching you closely, not missing a single word or emotion. It hurt him that you had such a terrible mother and had to go through this as a child.

"Who was she? Why did she started drinking?" Jungkook asked cautiously. You turned your head to him and he saw your eyes glistening with pain.

"I don't know why she started drinking. Halmoni said she was a model. She was very famous. When I found out, I even looked for her in old magazines. And I found her. She was beautiful. Very beautiful. And this... only hurt more. Because I looked at her picture and I couldn't believe that this woman... this woman... had yelled at me, hit me, called me names."

"She hit you?" Jungkook asked, his eyebrows raised. His jaw clenched unconsciously. How can you hit a little girl?

"Yes," you smiled sadly. You told Jungkook everything, not wanting to hide a drop of truth from him. It was the first time you had ever been asked about your family like that, and he didn't look at you with disgust or pity. On the contrary, you saw indignation in Jungkook's eyes. "It happened a lot. I don't know if she beat me when I was very young, but it happened. Because of her work, my grandmother rarely visited me. She didn't know how my mother treated me, and I was afraid to tell her. When my grandmother found out, she took me away immediately. Me were about 12, that my grandmother took me in, and I've lived with her ever since."

"Why did she beat you?" Jungkook asked again.

"For different reasons. But mostly when I talked about my father. Especially when I wanted to know who he was."

"So did she tell you who he was?"

"No. I still don't know who that man is. My grandmother never told me either. And now I'm not interested. Although my mother often said that I resemble him. But how can I understand in what way? I never knew, who he really was" your voice trembled. You went through all those memories again and it hurt. You were silent for a moment, and then you remembered. "One day she beat me so badly that I couldn't go to school because the bruises on my face were so big. I didn't want my classmates to tease me because they all knew my mother was drinking."

It was hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes. Hot tears broke off rolled down your shocks as you closed your eyes to catch your breath. You hadn't planned to cry in front of Jungkook, but he had touched the deepest and most painful strings of your soul.

Suddenly, you felt him sit down and hug you. And you could not hold back. You cried, releasing the pain you had been holding for many years. And no matter how many times you cried, it didn't make it go away.

You clung to his chest, crying softly, and you were grateful that he was there for you when you were not strong.

You don't know how much time passed, but you were in Jungkook's arms for a long time. You calmed down and didn't cry anymore, just felt the warmth of his hand stroking your waist. You wiped your wet cheeks with your hand and looked up, not moving away from his chest.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" you remembered that instead of talking about your parents, you were supposed to talk to him. Jungkook tilted his head down to look at you. "Is it about the deal?" you asked, sniffling.

But there was no answer. Jungkook leaned down and kissed you. Gently, cautiously, as if he wanted to calm you down even more. You immediately responded to his kiss, realizing that you needed it now. You really needed him. Because when you are with him, you don't think about anything.

You laughed in your mind. It's Jungkook. The same Jungkook you couldn't stand a month ago, and now you need him more than anyone else in the world. What's wrong with you? You haven't fallen in love with him, have you?

This question, which you mentally threw to yourself, remained unanswered. You didn't even have time to formulate it, because Jungkook, as if he sensed that something had changed in you, deepened the kiss. And you drowned in it.

It was not a kiss of desire, not a kiss of habit. It was... deep. Slow. Soft. There was no rush, only care and warmth. He kissed you as if he was apologizing for all the pain of your childhood. For every insult, for every scar you didn't deserve.

Jungkook parted your lips and you slowly opened your eyes. You looked at each other as if you were talking in your minds. You said "Thank you" to him and heard him say "I'll be there for you." You wanted his closeness. It seemed to you that he was the only one who could take away your pain. You pulled him to you and kissed him.

Your lips connected and Jungkook could taste the saltiness of your tears. He didn't want you to cry. He never wanted to see you cry again. He did the right thing by your mother, and after what you told him, he thought he was even soft on her. He wants to protect you from everyone, to erase all your pain. To destroy everyone who has ever hurt you.

The kiss turned from gentle and grateful to passionate and exciting. Jungkook deepened the kiss, wanting to show you that he needed you. You responded with no less passion, showing that you needed him too.

Without breaking the kiss, you climbed onto his lap and sat on top of him. Jungkook put his palms on your waist, and without staying there for long, he put his hands on your buttocks. He squeezed them, pressing you closer to his crotch and you could feel how hard he was.

You felt how hard he was, and you couldn't help but move on him, wanting more. Your pussy was wet between your legs, your clit throbbing with desire.

Jungkook moaned against your lips and responded by moving his hips. His arms held you down until your bodies were one without even taking off your clothes.

Your hips slid back and forth, and you sighed softly as you felt his body respond to your every move. Jungkook squeezed your flesh, trying to keep control.

"Let me have you..." he whispered, leaning down slightly to look into your eyes. His voice sounded hoarse, almost broken, as if this desire was burning him up inside.

He pulled off your shirt. It fell somewhere near his feet. Following the shirt, he took off your top, exposing your breasts.

Jungkook touched one of your breasts with his lips and kissed it gently, without the usual lust. It was incredibly pleasant, so intimate as never before. Usually your sex is crazy and rough. But now it was different.

He let go of your nipple and kissed you between your breasts, slowly moving up to your neck. He left almost no place unkissed.

You pulled away, stopping him. Your hand reached for the edge of his T-shirt, and Jungkook silently raised his hands, letting you take it off. His torso was hot, tense, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over it.

Your fingers touched his beautiful body, as if to explore it anew. You touched his tattoos, which had always attracted your attention. After, you touched his shoulder with your lips. You kissed his forearm, then the place between his neck and shoulder. You climbed up your lips at his neck and felt his breath catch. You moved next to his jaw, to his chin, and finally found his lips.

You kissed him first and couldn't get enough of his closeness. It was as if you were in heaven. You hid from all your problems and felt calm.

You were the first to pull away from his lips and smiled when you saw his eyes closed. Jungkook opened them, looking at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. His gaze was almost reverent.

"You are so beautiful," he said softly, touching your face. You leaned against his palm, touching the inside of it with your lips. Jungkook's heart fluttered.

Fuck. This must be it. He's fallen in love.

Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and stood up. You barely managed to grab him your hands, clinging to his waist with your legs. He held you tightly, not giving you any hint that you might fall.

Without a word, he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed as if you were made of porcelain. Jungkook slowly took off your cotton pants. He saw the lace underwear and for the first time smiled slyly, as you were used to seeing him during your sex.

"So you wore that lace to come simple talk to me," he grabbed the edge of the thong and pulled it down, slowly, almost mockingly.

You were breathing fast, but a smile appeared on your lips, which meant that you were caught.

"Do you think that if I wore regular underwear, it would prove that I didn't prepare for sex?"

Jungkook laughed softly. He pulled off your thong and threw it into your pants. He took off his sweatpants in one quick movement, and you gasped silently.

There was no underwear underneath. His cock was aroused, hard, straight. You turned your stormy gaze to Jungkook. He had already climbed onto the bed and was approaching you with a sly smile.

When his body touched yours, you felt his warmth. His weight pressed you pleasantly against the bed. You opened your legs, letting him get comfortable between them.

Jungkook put his arms under yours so you could hug him. He came closer and kissed you, more eagerly, but not with the usual hunger.

"I think you've been preparing," he kissed the spot between your neck and jaw, "and so have I, as you can see."

You smiled wider, running your fingers through his hair, feeling its softness.

"I noticed," you said, enjoying his kisses. Jungkook lifted his head. His eyes ran over your face.

"I want you. I want all of you," he said. Your smile slowly disappeared. What did he mean ‘all of you’? It was what you thought it was? You would want him too, but is it possible? Is it possible for you to be with them outside of the agreement?

You couldn't say anything to him in response. The words just stuck somewhere in your throat. Instead, you pulled him in for another kiss. Jungkook eagerly responded, intertwining your tongues. He noticed that this was the third time you had kissed him first, although he usually took the initiative.

You moved your hips, rubbing your wet pussy against his cock. Urging him to move into action. Jungkook moved his hips to meet you. Desire had eclipsed all thought, and now he just wanted to be inside you. He released your lips and you whispered.

"I want you. Come in," you couldn't wait any longer.

Jungkook bit your plump lips briefly and stood up. He took his cock and slowly, very slowly, brought it to you. And when he entered, it was something incredible. Something you will never stop needing. You couldn't hold back a moan, and he bit his lip to keep from losing control from your sound.

He entered you completely, gently, without jerking. He lay on top of you, holding you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders to feel the strength of his body, every muscle. Jungkook lie in this position a little, kissing you, giving you time to get used to the size.

He felt as tight inside as ever, and that and the thought that you belonged to him completely made his cock twitch several times. Jungkook pressed in tighter and started to move, pulling away from your lips but not moving far from your face. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying every movement, every inch of his body. Jungkook looked at your face and couldn't get enough of your beauty.

He moved carefully, as if he was afraid of breaking you. His forehead touched yours. He was whispering something that you can’t understand right now. Each thrust was slow, full, and full of meaning.

It wasn't your ordinary sex. It was something else. Something filled with other feelings.

And although he moved gently, the sensations were too intense. You clung to his back, as if it was the only way to keep yourself on this edge. He was lifting your hips a little higher, finding deeper angles than ever, but not losing his softness.

"It feels so good..." you whispered, hugging him.

Jungkook exhaled against your skin, as if your words had made his heart flutter even more. He leaned in, hugging you tightly, and whispered right into your lips:

"You drive me crazy..."

He was driving you too.

His thrusts became a little deeper, sharper, with each new movement they had more confidence, more strength. Not rudeness - strength that came from within, from a real desire to belong to you completely. You could feel his body pulsating with yours, as if your hearts were beating in a common rhythm.

Jungkook lifted your hips and pushing you stronger. Your body arched under him, and another sweet moan escaped your throat. You couldn't hold back anymore - every touch was too pleasant, every thrust was like a wave that washed over you.

"Hold on to me," he asked hoarsely, and you hugged him even tighter, digging your nails into his skin. Although he seems to have meant something completely different.

You could feel his back trembling under your fingers, his tension rising, his breathing getting heavier. He was already on the verge-you knew it-but he was still holding himself, not to speed up, not to lose this moment. He wanted to stay in this moment as long as possible.

"Kook..." came out of your mouth. You wanted to feel the desired pleasure. Your insides were trembling, the sounds that filled Jungkook's room and the feelings he created were pushing you to the limit. "Please let me come."

Jungkook slowed down and then stopped.

"Just a little more," he begged. He knelt down, not leaving you. Your body was relaxed, and so yielding. He leaned down to kiss your breasts. His tongue caressed one nipple at first, touched fingers the flesh, and then moved to the other.

"I can't," you said breathlessly. "Let me come," you begged.

Jungkook looked up and lingered on your face - your lips open, your eyes closed in pleasure, your fingers clasped together, holding onto the sheet... It’s seems like he had never seen you so beautiful. And so vulnerable. His own heart was pounding as if it was about to jump out of his chest.

"One more moment..." he whispered, as if he was begging not you, but himself. "A little more pleasure, a little more feeling you completely."

He lowered himself, touching his lips to your body again, leaving kisses between your breasts, along your ribs, on your stomach, before returning to your face. His hand slid down and found your sensitive center. His fingers acted as gently as his body - softly, purposefully, knowing exactly what would make you lose your mind.

"I want... I want you to give every one of your orgasms to me..." his voice was hoarse, rough with desire. He started moving again, a little faster this time. There was still a gentleness to his movements, but now there was a fierce need.

You could not stand it. From his rhythm, from his fingers, from the pressure of emotion, and from the fact that there was something more behind this sex. Unspeakable.

Your body tensed, you clung to his shoulders even harder and bent under him like a string. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips, exposing every cell of your being. You could feel the wave spreading through your body, every muscle trembling and pulsing inside.

Jungkook felt it. His pupils dilated, and he wanted to release himself in you. A few more deep thrusts and he came too. His body tensed, and he pressed in tighter, burying his face in your neck, exhaling hoarsely against your skin.

He stayed inside until he stopped spewing his semen. His breathing steadied slowly, and his palms slid gently over your skin.

When he lifted up a little to see your face, you were still with your eyelids slightly closed, so relaxed, so beautiful, so his.

For the next three days, you were at work from morning to night. You didn't see Jungkook all those days, but you talked on the phone. You worked hard and diligently on the project, telling every detail, emphasizing the most important things.

You noticed that Yuna was hanging around Kang's boss a lot, having lunch together, she visiting his office, and running around for constant advice.

During the lunch break, you talked to Jisu about Yuna's desire to please boss. Jisu told you that there are rumors that Yuna is the daughter of one of the members of the ‘EON Creative’ detectives, and that's why she is so desperate to get his attention. And most likely they are sleeping together. And just thinking about it made you shake.

You were glad that your boss had finally left you alone, but you caught his long glances as usual, even though he was very reserved around you.

On Wednesday, at about eight o'clock in the evening, when you had finished work and were heading home, your work phone rang. You picked up the phone and heard the voice of Kang Yongwon's secretary. She told you that he wanted to see you.

You felt a tension mixed with excitement, but you calmed yourself down, soothing yourself with the thought that maybe he wanted to know if everything was ready for tomorrow's final.

You walked into Kang Yongwon's office, he was sitting at his desk, and when he heard the sound of the door, he looked up at you and... smiled. But this smile was somehow... sickeningly friendly, unnatural.

"Oh, Y/N-shi, come in," his voice sounded too soft. "Sit down."

You bowed, and slowly walked over and sat down, keeping your eyes on him. Something tightened inside you. Your intuition quietly told you that something was wrong.

"Tell me, is everything ready for tomorrow's contest?" he asked, folding his hands into a lock on the table. "Did you explain everything well to Yuna and Jaehwan?"

"Yes," you nodded. "I told them every little detail. They will be a good support for me tomorrow, I'm sure."

There was silence for a moment. Then Kang Yongwon made a theatrical sigh, as if he was genuinely sorry for what he had to say.

"Today I had a conversation with the company's advisor..." he began, looking at you with the same feigned gentleness. "And... he thinks that your presence at the competition... could damage ‘EON Creative's’ reputation."

"What?" you asked as if you hadn't heard. "Why?"

Yongwon shook his head.

"Because of the scandal. After you... had to be suspended, your participation in the competition might raise unnecessary questions. And frankly, it might affect the outcome." You opened your mouth to object, but he interrupted sharply. "We've been thinking for a long time about how best to proceed. And... I'd like to ask you to copyright waiver etrified."

This was your project. Your work. A chance to come back and prove that you are a good specialist... that you deserve a place in the company.

You sat silently, staring into his face. The boss leaned a little closer.

"Y/N-shi. You know that this is a very important competition for us. Therefore, not only the result is important to us, but also the company's image. We simply cannot take any risks. Do you understand?"

You continued to be silent. And although something inside you was seething, the voice of reason said: this is your chance to come back. If you show your loyalty to the company, maybe this will be a step towards your return.

"Good," you finally said. Yongwon smiled triumphantly.

He leaned back in his chair and then nodded in appreciation, adding:

"Thank you very much, Han Y/N! As always, you make the right decisions." He reached into a folder on his desk, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to you. You saw the document that said you were abandoning the project in favor of the company. But you also noticed that there was no date on the document. This seemed strange to you.

You saw a pen in front of you and held your gaze on it. You picked it up and felt a tension that was almost physical. It was most likely radiating from your boss, who wanted you to sign the copyright waiver as soon as possible. You took the pen and looked up at Yongwon.

You didn't want to give the project away for nothing. You needed a guarantee. Because it's not a given that even your project wins, he'll bring you back to work. So you had to set your own conditions.

"I'll sign it, but on one condition," you said firmly. The manager could barely contain his emotions. But you noticed a shadow of irritation on his face.

"What a condition, Y/N-shi?" he asked in a low voice.

"I sign a copyright waiver, and you guarantee me a job back after the competition."

There was a momentary silence between the two of you, but then Kang Yongwon smiled.

"Of course," he said more softly, as if he expected you to say that, "I'll bring you back if your project wins."

You raised your eyebrows. He had put his own condition on yours. What a sneaky asshole! You nodded and signed the copyright waiver. He'll bring you back because you're sure your contest will win.

"Thank you for your cooperation and understanding! The company appreciates your contribution." he said officially, and these words were meaningless to you. "So tomorrow you don't have to be present at the final," he said as he took the documents from you.

"But I'll be there," you said, clutching your bag, "I'll help whoever is presenting the project, make sure everything goes perfectly."

Yongwon smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, that would be very professional of you."

"I take it you've already chosen someone to take my place?"

"Yes. The counselor and I thought that the only one who could replace you is Yuna, because she's in the know and Jaehwan doesn't have a big mouth, so it'll be her."

You felt the nausea of nerves and irritation rise to your throat, but you kept all your emotions in check.

"Okay, then. I'll help Yuna with her performance," you said. You stood up and said goodbye to your boss and walked out of his office on wobbly legs.

The next morning you were at the competition. You supported Yuna, telling her where to place the accents, how to behave, how to answer possible questions from the jury. And when she came out to present your project, you stood backstage and clenched your fists, forcing yourself to breathe.

And then came the victory. Your project was recognized by the jury, and ‘EON Creative’ received not only an award but also funding, recognition, and new contacts. You stood back, happy and... devastated at the same time.

You went over and congratulated the boss and Yuna. They thanked you for your good work, but you couldn't accept their words sincerely, you just smiled and said "thank you."

You didn't notice how quickly the time passed. You looked at your phone and saw that it was already four o'clock in the evening. At that very moment, you received a call from Jungkook.

"Hello," you said happily into the phone.

"Hey kitten, where are you?" he asked softly.

"I'm at the COEX Convention & Exhibition Center. At the finals of the contest."

"Do you remember that we have a plane to Jeju today? It leaves at eight o'clock. I'm not far away, do you want me to come pick you up?"

You gasp, going to a quieter place.

"I forgot. With this contest, everything slipped my mind. I didn't even pack my suitcase..." you admitted.

"Wait for me at the entrance, I'll be there in 10 minutes," Jungkook said, and you hung up the phone, agreement with.

Jungkook arrived exactly ten minutes later, as promised. You quickly said goodbye to everyone and went to the car. When you got in, you couldn't contain your joy.

"Kook, my project won! I'm so happy," you said, smiling, although for some reason you felt bitter in the middle.

"Really?" Jungkook was surprised. "I knew you would win! And you were worried. You worked hard," he praised you.

"Thank you," you said gratefully, "We all worked hard. Yuna did so well. She remembered everything I told her."

Jungkook looked at you.

"Yuna? Who's Yuna?" he asked with a subtle strain in his voice, "I thought you were supposed to be representing the project."

You sighed, turning your head back to the road. You swallowed the lump in your throat and answered:

"My boss asked me to withdraw from the project in favor of the company... He said that my presence could be harmful. But he promised to bring me back to work from the Monday."

Silence fell in the car. When you realized that Jungkook was not responding to your words, you turned to him. He was frowning, and you noticed his eyebrows were drawn together in the center. His eyes were staring straight at the road.

"What?" you looked at him anxiously, "Why are you so angry?"

"Nothing," he said shortly. You also drawn your eyebrows together, hearing the pulse in your ears.

"What do you mean ‘nothing’? Why are you so angry all of a sudden?" you felt irritation wash over you. Jungkook remained silent and you started to get angrier.

"He's not going to let you go back to work," he finally said, stopping at a traffic light.

You were dumbfounded.

"Why?" came out of your mouth on automatic.

"I asked Manager Lee to find out your work account so I could transfer the money to you. And he told me today that your account is no longer active. You were fired a week ago."

Jungkook kept silent about the fact that it was not just a firing. Yongwon didn't write the reason "by mutual agreement" that wouldn't affect your career. He wrote "Dismissal for violation of the company's internal ethical standards related to behavior that could potentially damage the company's reputation" which, in short, puts an end to your future activities. Jungkook was furious. And now, learning that he had brazenly stolen your project and would use it to boost his image to the next level tore Jungkook's patience to shreds.

"What...." you said quietly, looking at Jungkook's profile, and only after he said that did you realize that the last money from the company came to your personal account, not your work account. You didn't pay much attention to it, even though it was an obvious confirmation of your dismissal.

The light turned green and Jungkook and after driving a little bit, pulled over to the side. You sat down straight, staring at your hands. Tears were already coming and choking you. You couldn't stop yourself from crying. Jungkook stopped the engine and bent down and hugged you.

"Please don't cry. I will deal with Kang Yougwon. He will be held accountable for what he did to you."

You were crying, not knowing what to do. Hearing Jungkook's words somewhere above your head, you suddenly felt a surge of anger. He says he'll figure it out, but why did he wait until now? Until you were fired?

You agreed to his deal in the hope that he would give you your job back. You didn't want the position at the parent company. All you wanted was to get your good name back and the job you had earned on your own. And because of him, everything is ruined. Everything.

You pushed him away, sharply, with all the strength left in your exhausted body.

"Don't touch me!" you shouted with tears in your eyes.

Jungkook froze, looking at you in confusion, but you couldn't stop. The words poured out in a stream - bitter, painful, the kind of words that come out only when the soul can't take it anymore.

"It's all because of you!" came out of your mouth. "If it wasn't for you, I would still be working. You should have told me who you really are. And then I would never have asked you..." you cried, almost unable to see Jungkook's expression through your tears. "My career..." you sobbed, turning away to the window, "I worked so hard... I lived for this job. I gave up everything to achieve it. And now..." you turned back to him, desperation in your voice, "now in one damn line I've been erased from the industry! Forever!"

"Y/N," he began, but you interrupted.

"Don't say anything!" you exclaimed. "You said... you said you'd you'd fix all . You could have stopped it before, I asked you to, you could have! But you did nothing." A flame burned in your eyes, scorching even his cold composure. "You were silent until I was thrown out. That bastard appropriated my project. And now - now - you just say 'don't cry'?" you laughed hoarsely through your tears, dismissively. "My life is ruined, Jungkook. Do you hear me? Shattered."

You looked at him, and you didn't want to hear or see him anymore. To hell with him. Fuck his deal. You've had enough.

You grabbed the door handle and wanted to leave, but it was locked. You didn't turn to him and said angrily:

"Open it."

Jungkook touched your arm.

"Y/N calm down. Let's talk about everything normally."

You pushed his hand away angrily. You didn't want him to touch you at all.

"Take your hands off me and open the fucking car. I don't want to see you."

He tried to calm you down again, but you were desperate.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!!!" you shouted and cried harder.

He was silent, and then he pushed the button and the door clicked open.

You got out of the car, slamming the door loudly. You quickly go away from the car, sometimes breaking into a run. You cried with all your might, feeling a terrible pain in your chest. The whole world was not nice to you. You cried in disbelief that everything had gone wrong.

Fate was mocking you. Because as soon as you felt that you had everything, it all disappeared.

⇠ Previous ⟡ Index ➩ ⟡ Next ⇢

162 notes · View notes

4nyangnyangz · 11 hours ago

Text

just one time, right? 2️⃣

you asked and I delivered, here's part two!! enjoy <33333

this is a part 2/sequel of “just one time, right?”. i highly suggest reading it first before proceeding with this one!

pairings: pervy roommate!beomgyu x fem reader

tags/warnings: smut/nsfw content, minors dni!! friends to ???, more angst! slow burn, mutual pining(Y/N is still kinda confused lol), masturbation, oral(m and f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it!!), creampie, gyu is whiny and desperate (he also gets kinda manipulative at some point), fluff, there's probably more I forgot to mention.

wordcount: 7.5k!!

fic below the cut!!

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

It’s been two weeks since that night.

Two weeks since you've kissed your friend. Two weeks since you've let him touch you in ways no one else ever has—since you've made a deal that you’ve repeated in your head so many times that it’s starting to feel less like a rule and more like a lie.

Still, things have stayed the same…on the surface.

You’ve both slipped back into your normal routines—laundry days, late-night ramen runs, and bickering over who left the bathroom light on. Everything looks the same from the outside; You laugh at his dumb jokes, you fight over the game controller like nothing’s changed. Like you didn’t just moan his name with your face buried in his pillow once.

Everything is back to the way it was.

Except…it’s not. Not really.

Because now, you’re aware of him. Really aware of him.

You catch him watching you during dinner, his chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth, eyes lingering just a little too long on your lips as you ramble about your day. When you're sitting on the floor playing games, your knees brushing his just slightly, and he doesn't move it. Sometimes, you catch the warmth of his hand ghosting over the small of your back when he reaches around you for the remote or a drink, like it’s innocent. Like it’s normal.

And you notice.

God, you notice.

You tried to ignore it at first, but how could you? Especially when you can feel your breath hitch when he's a little closer than usual. Your heartbeat skip when he smiles at you in a way that makes your thoughts go haywire. You’re becoming hyper-aware of him in a way that has nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with the way he made you feel that night.

But you tell yourself it’s nothing: You're just confused. A temporary glitch in your brain. Hormones. Residual tension. Whatever excuse you could come up with.

Because if you admit it’s more than that, if you admit you want him again—maybe even miss him—then you have to admit that something between you shifted, that the line you both crossed didn’t disappear after you pulled your dress back on and closed his door.

You keep thinking about what he said that night.

“I’ve always wanted to do this to you.”

“I always thought you were attractive.”

You've been replaying those words in your mind on loop, dissecting them from every possible angle like a problem you’re desperate to solve.

He said he’s wanted you. He's attracted to you. Wanted to touch you. Make you feel good. That much was obvious. But you’ve been clinging to the difference—wanting someone isn’t the same as liking them.

Not in the real way. Not in the “I think about you when you're not around, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know every messy part of you and stay anyway” kind of way.

Maybe it was just about sex. Chemistry. Timing.

Maybe you were just convenient.

And Beomgyu…he’s not the type to—

A soft knock on your door cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

You blink, your heart skipping like it got caught off rhythm. You clear your throat and call out,“Yeah?”

The door creaks open just a little, and Beomgyu peeks his head in.

“Hey,” he says casually. His voice is soft, but it still ripples through you like a shiver. “Just wanted to let you know I’m heading out to meet the guys. I’ll probably be back late, so I won’t be around for dinner.”

You sit up instinctively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and trying very hard not to let your gaze linger. He’s wearing that loose black hoodie he always pairs with ripped jeans and his usual silver chain.

Nothing out of the ordinary, but something about the way it all hangs on him tonight, effortless and cool, makes your stomach flip.

Of course it does.

He’s just standing there. Being him. And somehow that’s enough to throw you off balance.

You nod quickly, too quickly, before responding,“That’s fine. You didn’t have to tell me, you could’ve just… texted.”

He shrugs, leaning a little against the doorframe.“I just figured I’d say it in person.”

His eyes linger for a moment longer, just long enough to make your chest tighten before he reaches for the handle.

“Don’t wait up.” he says softly.

He starts to pull the door behind him when, without thinking, the words tumble from your mouth.

“Beomgyu—wait.”

You don’t even know why you said that. It’s out before your brain catches up, and the door pauses, just a sliver of him still visible. Then, slowly, he peeks his head back in.

His brows are raised slightly in surprise. “Yeah?”

He’s looking at you like you’ve said something important, and now you have to figure out what that something is. Your mouth opens, then closes. Your thoughts are scattered. You wish you had something clever to say, anything that didn’t make your heart feel like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

“I just…” You shift on the bed, your fingers clutching the blanket a little too tightly.

“Can we…talk? Sometime?”

There’s a brief pause. He tilts his head just slightly, looking at you with softened eyes. And then, he nods. A small, quiet motion, but the understanding in his gaze nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

“Yeah, Y/N.” He says,“We can talk.”

“Not right now, of course,” you add quickly, waving a hand,“I mean—you don’t have to. Just… whenever you're ready.”

He gives you a small smile—gentle, warm, a little crooked in the way that always makes your stomach do that stupid thing.

“Okay,” he says,“Let's talk soon.”

And just like that, he’s gone again, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

But this time, the silence he leaves behind feels different. The air suddenly feels heavier for some reason.

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

You’ve shifted in bed at least twenty times now, changed positions, adjusted your blanket, flipped your pillow over for the cooler side—none of it works.

You lie there, eyes wide open and locked onto the ceiling like it might offer some relief, but it doesn’t. It just stares right back, blank and unmoving, while your thoughts swirl like a storm you can’t escape.

Beomgyu.

That night.

You close your eyes tightly as you try to ignore the thoughts that are running through your head, but no matter what you do, you can't seem to stop thinking about him—about what happened.

You remember the heat of his breath against your neck, the pressure of his hips against yours, the sounds he made whenever you moaned into his mouth.

You can't stop thinking about how his body felt on yours, how good it felt to have him on top of you, how good it felt when he was rubbing his cock on your pussy.

You sigh in frustration and close your eyes once more. You turn around on your bed and cover your face with a pillow.

As much as you try to deny yourself, he's all you could ever think about. You've been wanting him again since that night.

You try to push those thoughts away, or forget it even happened, but it's no use. Your body remembers; It aches with the memory of him.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate how badly you still want him— even when you’ve told yourself so many times that it was a one-time thing, that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Before you know it, your hand slides under the hem of your shirt, tentative at first. You don’t even realize what you’re doing until your fingers graze your skin and your breath catches.

You imagine it’s him. His hands, not yours. His lips at your throat. His voice low and rough, praising you, teasing you. You imagine him kissing you like he's been starved of it. You imagine his weight on top of yours as he touches you.

You want him. You want him so bad that you couldn't think straight.

You take off your shorts and throw it across the room. You start touching yourself, imagining that it was him.

Your hand moves with purpose, mimicking the rhythm of his hips that you so vividly remember from that night. You start imagining him rubbing his cock on your clit. You start imagining his cock sliding between your folds. You start imagining him fucking you.

“Mmm…” you moan softly as your fingers brush against your clit slowly.

Two of your fingers slip inside you, and you gasp at the sudden fullness. They curl upward, and you can't help but arch your back into the pillow, imagining his strong arms holding you down, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

You pump your fingers in and out, increasing the tempo, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. You're lost in the fantasy, in the delicious torture of wanting him so badly that it physically hurts.

“More please, Beomgyu...” You whisper as you imagine his tongue tracing the line of your collarbone, his teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh, making you squirm and moan for more.

Your thumb circles your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle the cry that threatens to escape. Your body tightens, a coil of pleasure winding up tighter and tighter.

“Ahh...! Beomgyu!!” you groan, crying out his name as you come all over your fingers. Your legs start shaking, and your pussy clenches at nothing. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, and you ride it out.

When you come down from your high, you realize what you've just done. You’re still lying there, chest rising and falling slowly as your pulse calms, but something else starts to settle in the stillness.

Guilt.

Not the light, teasing kind, but the kind that coils in your gut, low and heavy and cold.

Because as the warmth fades from your limbs, reality floods back in—and it hits you all at once.

You just touched yourself.

To the thought of Beomgyu.

Your best friend.

Your roommate.

The same Beomgyu who made you laugh through hangovers, who stayed up with you when you were heartbroken, who’s seen you in ratty pajamas and no makeup and still called you cute just to make you roll your eyes. The same Beomgyu who held you that night two weeks ago like he’d been waiting forever to do it.

But still.

You haven’t even talked since then. Not really. Not about what happened, not about what it meant.

And here you are, lying in your bed in the middle of the night, using the memory of him to get off like it’s some casual fantasy. Like it didn’t mean anything.

But it did. You know it did.

But now, in the dark, tangled up in guilt and craving, you can’t lie to yourself about it. Not really.

You sit up slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on your shoulders. Shame crept up your neck, your cheeks. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling hard, like you could push the thoughts out of your head if you just breathed hard enough.

You haven’t even figured out what you feel yet.

You don’t even know if he likes you. Not the way you’ve started to think about him when it’s quiet. When you let your guard down.

You just know that it felt good, so so good—to pretend; To imagine that he wanted you like that, that he meant what he said that night, that it wasn’t just lust, that it could be more.

You stand up on shaky legs, reaching for your towel with the hope that a hot shower might scrub the thoughts off your skin. You don’t even make it three steps before you hear your phone buzz behind you.

You pause for a moment before turning back.

The screen lights up like a curse. You catch a glimpse of a text notification from Beomgyu appear through your lock screen. You stare at the message.

Beomgyu: I can hear you.

You freeze in place.

The air leaves your lungs in one short, panicked gasp.

No. No fucking way.

Your fingers hover over the screen for a second too long. Your mind is in chaos, racing, spiraling. The longer you wait, the more it feels like you have to say something before the silence turns lethal.

So you type without thinking, leaning on denial like it’s your last defense.

You: what are you talking about?

You hit send and immediately regret it. It’s flimsy. Weak. Painfully obvious. You can already picture the smirk pulling at his lips as he reads it.

His reply is almost immediate.

Beomgyu: I heard you moan my name just now. I know I wasn’t just imagining things.

You flinch, your mouth falling open just slightly.

The flush creeps up your neck so fast you have to sit down. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself against the full weight of humiliation crashing down on you.

Your hands tremble as you reply again, more desperate this time, like maybe there’s still a way to make this go away.

You: but you literally aren't even home yet??

The dots appear. Then stop. Then appear again.

And then,

Beomgyu: You seriously think I’m still out?

You immediately shift your attention to the top of your phone. Your eyes widen when you see that it's already 1:50 AM.

When did it get so late?

You’d been so lost in your thoughts, so lost in him, that the hours slipped right through your fingers. You’d convinced yourself you were alone, when really… he was here. Maybe in the room next door. Maybe just on the other side of the wall.

And he heard you.

The silence stretches now, this time from you. You stare at the screen, not knowing what to say, not even sure what you could say.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you finally realize what's happening. You didn't even think that he might already be home.

You set the phone down, cover your face with your hands, and groan softly into your palms.

Then — another buzz.

You felt your heart jump into your throat.

You reach for it hesitantly, scared of what he might’ve said next. And when you finally gather the courage to look:

Beomgyu: I’m so hard right now. I need you. Help me out?

You freeze, fingers gripping the edges of your phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. Your heart is pounding — hard enough that you feel it echo in your throat.

You don't know what to say. You don't know how to respond.

Beomgyu: Y/N, please?

Your thumbs hover, unsure and nervous, but also... curious.

You: how?

You hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

The moment stretches. A beat. Two.

Then, your screen lights up again.

Beomgyu: I’m outside your door.

You jolt, head snapping toward the door like it might vanish if you blink.

He’s here?

Like, right now?

You sit up straighter, adrenaline rushing through you in one wild, dizzying wave. You don’t even remember hearing his footsteps— didn’t hear the hallway creak or his soft knock.

But now, he’s standing just on the other side of that door. Waiting.

Your phone buzzes again.

Beomgyu: Open the door for me, please?

Your breath hitches.

With trembling hands, you retrieve your discarded shorts and panties from the floor, sliding them back on in a hasty attempt to regain some semblance of decency.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before you tiptoe to the door. You pause, one last second of hesitation before slowly pulling it open. The soft click of the lock sounding louder than a gunshot in the stillness of the night.

And there he is.

Beomgyu.

His hair is a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over. He’s still dressed in what he wore earlier. That effortlessly casual fit that always looked too good on him, but now it’s a little rumpled, like he’d been pacing or shifting anxiously.

His chest is rising and falling faster than usual. And when his eyes meet yours, it knocks the air right out of you.

There's something hungry in them. Unmistakable.

He looks like he wants to say something— maybe explain, maybe apologize — but all of it dies on his tongue as his gaze sweeps over you. Slowly. Almost reverently.

Like you’re the only thing he sees.

And when his eyes return to yours, they’re darker now, filled with something raw, something intense.

He's looking at you with so much hunger in his eyes that it makes you weak in the knees. He looks like he wants to devour you. He looks like he needs you; Like he can't wait another second without you, like he’s barely holding himself back.

You open your mouth slightly to speak, but before you can even say anything, he's already on you.

He pushes you back into your room and closes the door behind him. He pushes you down onto your bed and gets on top of you. He starts kissing you passionately, like he's been wanting to do this for so long.

His hands explore you, tracing the familiar curves and planes of your body, igniting every nerve with each touch. The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it—breathless and dizzy.

“Beomgyu,” you murmur against his lips, the sound barely a whisper but loaded with feeling.

He breaks away slowly, eyes dark and shimmering with something raw and desperate.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, his voice thick and husky with desire that it's coming out almost shaky,“I need you. I need you so bad, it’s driving me crazy.”

You hesitate, looking away quickly, your cheeks burning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

“I wanted to talk to you first,” you whisper, “About what happened. Before… before anything else.”

His bottom lip trembles, and his voice drops to a whiny, almost heartbreaking tone.

“That’s not fair,” he says, sounding half upset, half desperate.

“You just—you got off thinking about me, and now that I'm here you won’t even help me? Please, Y/N…” He cups your face, turning your head slightly to make you face him,“Don't beat yourself up about this. We both know you want it. We both know that you want me. I can feel it.”

You couldn't speak. His breathy voice, full of desperation and need, suddenly sends a jolt of electricity throughout your body. He's so close to you, and it's making you dizzy with want.

But you can't just jump into this again without even talking about what happened. That's not how it should be.

“Beomgyu...I—” You try to say something, but you can't. He senses your hesitation, and his eyes soften a little.

You try to pull back, but he tightens his hold gently, eyes begging.“It's okay. We can talk about this afterwards...but right now,” he murmurs, voice cracking,“I need you, please.”

His desperation is almost heartbreaking, and despite every warning in your mind, your body betrays you with a tremble.

He's asking you for permission. He's giving you a chance to back out, but you don't want to. You want this. You want him. And that's all that matters right now.

You nod slowly, giving him the permission he's asking for. You move your hand to the back of his head, slightly pulling him in closer. He gets the hint and immediately captures your lips with his once more.

His hand trails down your body, touching and caressing you everywhere. He knows what he's doing, and it's driving you crazy. His hands are so warm on your skin, and his lips are so soft against yours.

You can't get enough of him. You want more and more of him. You want all of him.

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there. His teeth graze your skin, and it sends shivers down your spine. He's making you feel so good, and you can't get enough of it. He's driving you crazy with desire.

“Been wanting to do this again, couldn't stop thinking about it…” he pulls away just a little, his lips moving up to your ear. He licks your earlobe teasingly as he whispers into your ear, his voice breathy and desperate.

“Fuck, Y/N. You don't know what you do to me.”

He bites your earlobe, and you moan in response. His lips trail down your neck once more, this time to your collarbone. He kisses and licks at the skin there, making you even more aroused.

You can feel his hard cock on your thigh, strained by his pants and it's making you even wetter. You want it. You need it inside of you.

“Beomgyu, please…” You beg, wanting more of him.

He looks up at you and smirks. He knows what you want. He knows what you need.

His lips start trailing down to your chest, his hand pushing your shirt up to reveal your breasts to him. He starts sucking on one of your nipples, making you moan in pleasure. His other hand is squeezing and caressing your other breast, making you even more turned on.

“Beomgyu—!” You can't help but moan as he bites and sucks on your nipples. The sensation was driving you to the edge.

He switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the other one. His hand is on your thigh now, trailing up to your pussy. He starts rubbing it through your panties, and you can't help but squirm at the sensation.

“You're so fucking wet, I wanna eat you out. Can I? Please?” He asks as he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

You nod, unable to say no to him, not when he's looking at you like that. And especially not when you want it too. He smirks and immediately takes off your panties. He throws them across the room before diving in, eager to taste you.

His mouth is on your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit. His tongue flicks at the sensitive bud, making you moan even louder. He's eating you out like a starving man, like he can't get enough of you. And you love it. You love the way he's making you feel. You love how he's pleasuring you.

His tongue enters your hole, making you moan out his name. His finger enters you as well, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. His mouth is still on your clit, sucking and licking at it. Adding another finger inside you, he starts to fuck you harder with his fingers, his tongue still on your clit. And it's driving you insane.

“Feels so good...Ah—Beomgyu!” you scream out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers on you all at once becoming too much for your to handle.

You can't help but move your hips, trying to get more friction. You want more of him. You need more of him.

You feel yourself getting close and close to your release, but Beomgyu suddenly stops.

You look at him, confused and frustrated at the same time. You were so close, and yet...

“Shit. Sorry, Y/N,” he pulls away from your cunt, his face covered with your juices as he apologizes. His voice is breathy and shaky as he quickly takes off his clothes.

“S-sorry…I can't hold it…need you to touch me…” He says as he hurries to take off his hoodie. His hands are quick to unbuckle his belt, and soon he's pulling his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. He throws his clothes across the room, not caring where it lands.

You take him in, his naked frame hovering above you. You can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight of him.

Heat rushes straight to your core as you take in the sight of his naked body. Your cunt is leaking, and you know you’re already wet for him.

He sees the shift in your expression, and a knowing smirk forms on the corners of his lips. His eyes darken with lust as he looks at you, taking in the way you’re looking at his body. He knows you like what you see.

Without saying anything, he takes your hand and slowly guides it to his hard cock. It’s already leaking pre-cum, and you can feel the heat radiating from it. You can see the pre-cum oozing out of the tip, and you find yourself licking your lips at the sight. You want to taste him. You want to feel his cock in your mouth.

He moans softly as your hand wraps around his cock. You start pumping it, feeling him twitch in your hand as you stroke him.

“F-fuck, Y/N…keep going…” He moans, his eyes closing in pleasure as you move your hand faster.

However, your hand slows down as you lean closer to him. You plant a kiss on the tip of his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes— as if asking for his permission to take him into your warm mouth.

His eyes open at the sudden change of pace, and he looks at you through hooded eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. He’s looking at you with so much need and desire that it makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like you’re the only one who can satisfy him.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and hot with need,“You wanna suck me off?”

“Mhmm...” You nod, looking at him expectantly.“Can I?” You ask, your voice soft and gentle. He groans at your words, his hips bucking slightly.

Beomgyu's eyes widen a fraction, and he nods vigorously, the anticipation thick in the air.“Yes, yes, please.” He whispers, his voice strained with need.

You lean in, your plush lips wrapping around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the tip as you taste the saltiness of his pre-cum. You take him in deeper, inch by inch, feeling his size stretch your mouth. His eyes roll back in pleasure, his hands finding your hair, threading through the strands as he guides your movements.

You suck him with a passionate hunger that matches his own, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper, your tongue sliding along the underside of his shaft. The room fills with the sound of your wet, sloppy mouth working him over, and his harsh breaths and grunts of pleasure.

He's so hard, and you know you're doing it right. You moan around his cock, the vibration sending shivers through him.

“Feels so fucking good...” He gasps, his grip on your hair tightening.

You look up at him, your eyes watering slightly, but you don't stop. You love the way he looks at you when you're like this, like you're the only thing in the world that matters to him.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he pulls away, panting,“Wait—not like this, Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with need.“I want to be inside you when I cum.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nod, your cheeks flushed at his words. You're ready for him. You're ready to feel him inside you. You want him to fill you up, to make you his. And you know he wants it just as much as you do.

He moves closer to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. His hands roam your body, touching every inch of you. His touch sets your skin on fire, and you feel like you're going to explode with need. You’re desperate for his touch, your body aching for his cock.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. He positions his cock at your entrance, making you gasp as his warm cock slips between your wet folds. He rubs himself on your slit, making you even wetter.

“Fuck…” He breathes out, hissing curses under his breath as he feels how wet you are.

You feel his tip hitting your sensitive clit, and you can’t help but moan.

“Beomgyu...stop teasing…” You groan, your grip on his arm tightening.

You can’t take it anymore. You need him inside you. Now. You’re so wet, and you can feel your juices running down your thighs. You want to feel every inch of him inside you. You need to feel him stretch you out, to feel him pumping in and out of your tight hole. You want to feel your cunt gripping his cock like a vice. You want to be his, and you want him to be yours. And you want it all right now.

You move your hand from his arms to cup his cheek. You gaze at his dark, lust-filled eyes, your fingers moving to touch his soft, swollen lips.

“Please… I need you inside…” You manage to breathe out.

You know there’s no turning back after this, but you don’t care. You want him. You need him. You can’t deny yourself anymore. You can’t deny the way you feel about him. You’ve wanted him since that night, and now you have him.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with so much desire that you can’t help but feel like you’re going to combust. His fucked-out face immediately darkens, like a switch has been flipped.

“Yeah? How badly do you wanna have it, huh?” He coos, his voice husky and teasing. His fingers find your clit once more, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub. You throw your head back and moan, unable to control yourself. His touch is driving you crazy with want. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.“How badly do you want my cock inside you? Tell me, baby.” He whispers, his hot breath fanning over your ear.

You felt heat rush to your core at his words, the pet name sending shivers all over your body, your pussy clenching at the thought of finally having him inside you.

“I need it,” you whisper back, your voice breathy with need.“I need your cock, Beomgyu. Want you to fill me up, please…” You moan, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers.

He groans, and you can feel his cock twitch against your slit. He wants you just as much as you want him.

“Please, Beomgyu…” You beg, your hands gripping his hair tightly,“Please, I need you…” Your voice trails off into a soft moan as his fingers continue to work on your clit.

“Fuck…” You hear him whisper, his voice strained.“You want my cock that bad, huh? Gonna feel so fucking good, baby… gonna make you feel so good…” He smirks, his eyes gleaming with desire as he continues to rub your clit.

You nod, biting your lip as you look up at him,“Yes… yes… please… Beomgyu, I need it… want your cock so bad…” You moan out, your hands moving to grip his arms.

He groans again, his cock twitching against your slit once more.“Fuck, if you keep begging like that… I'm gonna give you what you want, baby… Gonna fill you up so good…” He whispers, his voice husky with lust.

He slowly pushes inside you, inch by inch. You gasp as you feel him stretching you out. His cock is so big, and it feels so good inside you; It felt so much better than you ever imagined.

“Ah!” You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you feel him bottoming out. He’s so deep inside you, and it feels amazing.

He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, but he soon starts moving, pulling out until just the tip is in before slamming back inside. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He starts pumping in and out, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. His cock is hitting all the right spots, and you know you won’t last long.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” He moans out, his voice strained.“So fucking wet… just for me…” He bites his lip, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.“You like that? You like my cock inside your tight little hole, baby?” He looks down at you with a grin, his thrusts never stopping.

“Yes!” You can’t help but cry out as you feel your orgasm approaching.“Yes, yes, Beomgyu! Mmmh..!!” His name is a moan on your lips, and he loves the sound of it. He loves the way you're moaning his name.

“Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you?” He smirks as he thrusts even harder and faster into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Yes! Yes, I love it! Feels so good!” You moan out, unable to stop yourself. You love the way his cock feels inside you. It feels so right. It feels like it belongs there.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic,“I'm about to cum soon, baby…” He groans out, “Wanna cum inside you so bad, make you mine… gonna let me fill you up?” His eyes darken with need as he looks down at you.

“Yes! Yes! Please, Beomgyu! I'm so close... please..!!” You beg, your orgasm nearing. You want to cum on his cock so badly. You want to feel it inside you when you cum. You need it.

He smirks down at you as he thrusts harder and faster. You feel yourself reach your high as you start cumming, your pussy clenching around his cock tightly. He groans, his thrusts slowing down as he cums deep inside you.

You feel his hot cum filling you up, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips. It feels so good, so right.

“Fuck, Y/N…” He moans as he pulls out, his cum leaking out of your pussy. You look at him, your eyes filled with desire and satisfaction. You know you made the right choice. You know this is what you wanted. You wanted him. And now you have him. And it felt amazing.

He soon rolls over to his back, breathing heavily from his release. You turn to your side to face him, and you soon find yourself drowning in thoughts once again, the ones you buried before when you made your decision, the feelings you never had the courage to express.

And the reality hits you once again.

You just fucked your roommate.

You just let your best friend cum inside you like it was the most normal thing to do.

You don’t even know if he feels the same way as you do. If he likes you more than a friend. If he wanted you more than just sex. You don't even fucking know if he wants you again after this.

You were about to spiral once again when you felt his fingers glaze over your ear, tucking a strand of hair that was blocking your face. You’re immediately snapped out of it when you meet his gaze. He looks at you intently, like he’s trying to convey everything without words. You felt your heart skipping a beat when he looks at you like that, like you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You see the expression in his eyes shift, but this time it’s different; It's not filled with lust.

His eyes are filled with something you’re more familiar with, one you always see in his eyes when he looks at you but tries his best to hide— the way he always looked at you like this but pretends it’s not what it looks like.

“Do you… like me?” You blurt out, immediately regretting it the moment you did.

He's taken aback, and you mentally slapped yourself.

That was so stupid! Why did you do that? Why did you have to ask that?! What if he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore after this? What if—

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Beomgyu says seriously, almost offended as if you asked him if the Earth is flat.

You look at him like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing what to say.

“Of course I do,” he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. You blink in surprise, not expecting him to answer that so fast.

“You’re my best friend. I love spending time with you. I can't spend a day without thinking about you. I like you… I like you so much.” He looks at you with his signature smile, the one he always gives you when he’s teasing you. But this time, there’s no teasing. There’s no denying. It’s all out there in the open. You see the sincerity in his eyes, the fondness, the love. You see everything.

“Yeah. I like you, Y/N. Fuck, more than that, actually. I’m in love with you, and have been for so long,” he says, a hint of shyness in his voice as he admits his feelings.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. The realization hits you, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. He likes you. He’s been in love with you this whole time, and he's finally telling you. And he’s not just saying it because he wants to have sex with you again— He’s saying it because it’s true. He’s saying it because he means it. He’s saying it because you’re asking him to.

“Since when?” You find yourself asking, your voice barely a whisper. You're in shock. You can't believe you're actually having this conversation with him.

Beomgyu chuckles softly,“Since the day I met you. You caught my eye the moment I saw you.” He looks into your eyes, his gaze soft.“You stole my heart from the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, your voice still soft, but this time there's a tinge of sadness in your voice.

“I was afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of ruining what we had. I was content with just being your friend, your roommate.” He sighs, his eyes looking away from yours, “But then that night happened. And I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t pretend anymore.” He turns to look at you again.

“I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you. I couldn't help but want you for myself.”

The moment he said that, everything suddenly clicked. You felt so stupid for not realizing this sooner.

You suddenly remembered all those times you became more aware of him when he lingered his gaze on you for just a second longer than he should have. His soft touches that were just a little too long. The way he knew exactly what your favorite foods are, and he’d buy them for you. The way he’d put his games on hold just to listen to you rant about your day. The way he would tell you to stop going out on dates with guys, even though he wouldn’t say why. You thought he was just being nice. You thought he was being a good roommate, a good friend. You thought that’s just how he is.

But now you know the truth. He did it all because he loves you. He did it all for you, because of you.

Because he's in love with you.

You felt your heart beating so fast at the realization, your head dizzy with thoughts you never thought possible.

“Beomgyu…” You start, unsure of how to continue. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know where this is going. You don’t know if this changes anything. You don’t know…

“It’s okay,” he says, as if reading your mind. “You don’t have to figure it out right now,” he reassures you.

“No, I—It’s just…” You trail off, looking away from his gaze.

You don’t know how to tell him. You don’t know how to put into words all the thoughts that are running in your head right now.

“It’s just… I never thought of you in that way… I always thought that I was looking too much into it whenever I noticed how you tried to make me aware of you… it was never anything more than that to me before, but then… after that night… I- I didn’t want to stop thinking about it… about you… I couldn't get you out of my head... and I don’t know what it means, I-”

The words came tumbling out of your mouth without you even noticing, but you knew he can already piece it all together.

You look up at him, expectantly, almost pleading him to help you understand what you're feeling. He just chuckles and kisses you on the forehead, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sorry, you’re just too cute, I couldn’t help it.” He mutters, his eyes filled with fondness as he stares at you. You feel your cheeks heating up, and you don’t know what else to say. You just feel your heart skip a beat.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he starts, his voice soft and reassuring,“It’s okay to not know how you feel right now. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just… I just wanted to let you know how I feel. I wanted you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.” His eyes are filled with sincerity, and you can see the truth in his words.

He’s telling the truth. He means it. And you can feel it in your heart.

He loves you. And you love him.

You want to tell him, to let him know, but you don’t want to say anything you’ll regret.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Beomgyu, I'm—” You start again, looking him in the eyes.

“I…” You trail off again, your mind going in circles. You don’t want to make a mistake.

You don’t want to hurt him, but you also don’t want to lie to him.

You don’t want him to think that you don’t care.

You don’t want him thinking that you don’t feel anything for him.

You open your mouth again, trying to find the right words, but Beomgyu cuts off your attempt.

“You don’t happen to have any plans today, do you?” He says suddenly, catching you off guard.

You shake your head immediately, confused by the change of topic.

“Great. Then go on a date with me, and you can tell me how you feel then.” He smiles, that annoying, confident smirk of his plastered on his face.

You're stunned. You can't believe what he just said. You can't believe he just asked to take you out, but at the same time, you can't help but feel the warmth in your chest. You feel like you're feeling everything all at the same time.

You take a deep breath and manage to get your words out.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

He smiles and kisses you again, this time on the lips. You can’t help the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Now, go take a shower and get ready. I’ll take you out on the best date ever.”

You laugh and roll your eyes,“Pretty confident there, aren’t we?” You tease him.

“Of course. I’ve seen all your failed attempts at dating. I know what not to do now,” he chuckles.“Plus, I’m going to show you how much you’ve been missing out on by not dating me sooner,” he adds, that annoying smirk back on his face again.

You roll your eyes again at his remark, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads in your chest. He’s being so absurd, so full of himself… and yet, it makes your stomach do somersaults. It makes your heart skip a beat. It makes you smile.

You hit his chest playfully, pushing him away from you.“Ugh, whatever. Just go shower already,” You say, hiding yourself under the covers.

“I’ll go shower first then. Feel free to join me if you want,” he teases you before you can stop him.

“You wish!” You scream back, hearing him chuckle as he closes your door.

You hear his laughter fading away as he goes back to his room.

You’ve been on so many dates with so many guys, and none of them made you feel the way you're feeling right now. You already knew you were going to have the time of your life, even before the date even started. You've never felt so happy, excited, and nervous all at once before.

And then you realized, everything suddenly becoming clear to you.

You already knew what your answer to Beomgyu is going to be.

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

a/n: hey oomfs i'm back!! i missed everyone here so much 😩 just dropped a new Beomgyu fic that I wasn't expecting to get so much attention in just a few days, y'all are the best!! i also didn't want to end the fic there so here's part two!! i hope y'all enjoyed reading this and I'll be back with more(currently working on a draft for Kai..) so stay tuned!! also special thanks to my beloved estelle for the pretty header <33333

taglist: @tyunzznluvr @interestellear @hyunelixbun @dawngyu @tubasmiracle @no1likemybbgcharlie @lovesickchoi-reads @xylatox @delugyu part 2 is finally out!! I hope y'all enjoy this one too!! 🙏

103 notes · View notes

maryblanket · 2 days ago

Text

Thank you @yakuzabrainrotlive for tagging me : )

Last song I listened to: weathergirl by flavor foley, I’ve found it recently and it’s been incredibly calming to listen to, as well as just being a really good song.

Favourite color: light blues ^_^

Currently watching: nothing unfortunately. There’s a lot I should watch (much like with reading…) like nichijou for example

Last movie: I think it might genuinely have been Ghost Rider 2007. I think this might be the second marvel movie ive ever seen, and the first I’ve ever gone out of my way to watch. I saw a scene from it randomly and was like “wow he really is a flaming skeleton on a motorcycle, life’s so beautiful”. I honestly kinda loved it..

Currently reading: Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, very very slowly. And hopefully a bunch of manga I need to get back to.. namely trigun which I love the anime of so much and reading the manga made me remember why, I need to finish it

Sweet, spicy or savoury: I think if normally say savory but I’ve been in the mood for something sweet ^_^

Relationship status: single.. I’m really anxious and tired but I’m also really gay so mayyybe somethjng lgbt will happen to me this month

Current obsessions: I’m sort of constantly alternating obsessions between Pokémon, Shin Megami Tensei, and Yakuza, one of those always seems to be there, along with something else, like Yume Nikki, Ib, Madoka magica or Pikmin for example. Not really an obsession but I’ve been wanting to read write and draw more

Last googled: “Play toys with me cat meme” please look it up if you haven’t seen it. Or if you have. it’s a very good picture

Currently working on: Not really much, but I suppose outside of medical stuff I’ve been working at basically my first real job and the aforementioned reading writing and drawing. And in general I think I’m in the best place mentally I’ve ever been so I’m happy about that ^_^

Again, thank you for tagging me, this got way longer than I meant it to!! Also if it’s ok, I’m not gonna tag anyone because as mentioned before I’m anxious and tired but on the off chance anyone sees this please feel feel to do this ^_^

nine people I would like to get to know better

Thank you @sentowritesstuff for tagging me!! I actually really like doing little games like this even if it’s something small it makes me happy lol

last song I listened to: I Hate It Here by Taylor Swift

favorite color: probably a really dark blue

currently watching: daredevil, andor s2, agent Carter, cloak and dagger, and a couple more

last movie: Avengers Infinity War

currently reading: Family of Liars by E. Lockhart

sweet, spicy, or savory: all of them!! I cant choose a favorite!!

relationship: single☹️ My crush doesn’t like me back and I refuse to talk to him

current obsessions: agent Carter, captain america and stucky in general (as usual), Star Wars, the naturals series, six of crows again, baking carrot cakes, and writing poetry about my shitty family

last googled: where to watch into the spiderverse?

currently working on: a speech for school, a poem series, and a fanfic about stucky

I’m going to tag: @spidersinsalem @olicitylighthome @aurore-boreal1s @scarfacemarston @bufferingsummers @onyx-di-angelo @crazysandwich @bloodorange17 & @mentalmeles

no pressure though if you’ve already done it or don’t want to

1K notes · View notes

absdollievu · 5 hours ago

Note

hi!!! stalker abby is riddling my brain haha.. what do you imagine domestic life with her would look like once reader and abs have really settled down and how would abby act now that she knows shes got reader tied down forever? (i hope your day/night is cozy and pleasant 🩷 mwah)

Yesss omg!

quick drabble

warnings: dark romance

At first, living with Abby feels intense. Not in a dangerous way—anymore—but in that suffocating, obsessive “you’re mine and nothing will ever touch you again” kind of way. She’s hyper-vigilant from the start. The front door is always locked. Then double-checked. Then again. Cameras go up on the porch. The curtains stay drawn. You find a tracker tucked into your car under the excuse of “for safety, baby, please don’t fight me on this.”

Everything is too quiet, too curated, too Abby. Your home becomes a shrine to the relationship she clung to like a lifeline. There are no meaningless objects anymore. Every framed photo on the wall is of you—alone or with her. The mug she pours your tea into each night only exists for that purpose. Even the throw blanket on the couch is your favorite color. She acts like she’s still trying to prove she deserves you, even now that she’s already got you.

Abby worships you through daily ritual. When you wake up, the smell of breakfast is already drifting from the kitchen. Eggs exactly the way you like them. Toast never burnt, never cold. She always knows how to make it just right. If you try to help, she nudges your hand away with a soft little “I’ve got it, babe.” She feeds you forkfuls sometimes—too slowly, too intentionally—watching your mouth like it’s sacred. Like she still can’t believe it’s hers to kiss.

When you’re away, she cleans the house from top to bottom. Not just to be kind—though that’s how she frames it—but because she doesn’t want anyone else to ever know what your dirty laundry looks like. The sheets you sleep on? Washed and tucked by her own hands. It has to be her. No one else gets to be that close.

Once she’s convinced you’re hers—truly hers—she settles into a quieter kind of possessiveness. You can go out with friends again. You can take solo trips to the store. She trusts you now. Or at least, she trusts your loyalty. But the moment you’re out of sight, her eyes are back on your location. If you’re even a few minutes late, she starts pacing, chewing her nails, already spinning up scenarios of you hurt—or worse, with someone else.

She doesn’t say anything when a coworker starts texting you a little too often. But you notice the way she says their name slowly, like she’s tasting it. Later, she’ll look them up. She’ll scroll through every one of their photos, every tagged post. You won’t hear about it. But you’ll feel it, in how tight she holds you afterward. In the way her kisses are harder. Deeper. Like she’s reclaiming something.

Abby touches you constantly. Her hands find your waist in the kitchen. Her chin hooks over your shoulder while you brush your teeth. When you’re on the couch, she’s curled behind you with her face buried in your neck, arms around your middle like a seatbelt. She doesn’t ask for affection—she just takes it. Like breathing. Like it’s owed.

Sometimes, you’ll catch her staring. Not in a soft, dreamy way. In a memorizing-you-down-to-the-molecule way. You wake up in the middle of the night and her eyes are already open, just watching you, expression unreadable. You ask what she’s thinking and she always answers the same.

“Just… you.”

If you ever joke about being stuck with her forever, she doesn’t laugh. She just smiles, something too calm, and says, “You are.” Not a question. Not a tease. Just a fact. A promise. A vow.

You’ll never have to wonder if she still wants you. The answer is in every breath she takes. In every door she locks. Every plate she sets. Every time she cups your face like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she looks away.

You’re not just her lover. You’re her obsession made real. Her favorite routine. Her home.

And Abby? She’s never been happier.

—

96 notes · View notes

n3ptoonz · 3 days ago

Text

'Political Animals' III

y'all ask, YALL SHALL RECEIVE!! this is the third and final chapter, i hope you all enjoy this work half as much as I enjoyed writing it 🤭

new tags/warnings: DURING THUNDERBOLTS; i tried to mix this story with the events in thunderbolts, y'all are like rabbits, cckwarming, DOG TAGS. you're on birth control cause you still got shit to do, alright!?...creampie :p, i hope this is not ass cause i had to stop procrastinating this LOL i don't normally write multiple chapters, barely proofread

Word count: 3.2k+

One, long, year later.

It was rough, but you got through it. The divorce went surprisingly smooth. He intended to run off with someone else anyway. Who cares! This is now. You got the house and were able to keep your things, and nothing was better than the day you redecorated the place. Especially the bedroom. It was more...you. It was always more yours than his anyway.

Nothing was more refreshing, more freeing than the first time you actually had good sex in that bed too, with the one and only Congressman that changed your life. I'm talking every position possible in the span of one year, and it was all worth.

Sure, the media speculated who you possibly had on your arm now that you're divorced, not to mention that journalist interviewed you a year ago. But nobody could figure it out. Your relationship was sealed tight and out of sight.

Enough about that though. There was no time to think about the past when Bucky softly smiled up at you like that. Your hands in his hair while washing it, you sitting in his lap stuffed full of him, and the occasional appreciative groan that left his lips every time your nails glided past a sweet spot on his scalp. This was the life he didn't know he fought so hard to have; to keep.

"You're really good at that, you know?" he murmured softly as his eyes stayed closed. The sound in the bathroom mainly being the shampoo being put in his hair and his hands coming out the water to glide against your back. He had to keep his eyes closed, otherwise this wholesome intimacy would not last another second with you looking down at him and your tits literally being right there if he looked a centimeter lower.

It's not like the feeling wasn't mutual. He insisted that he kept on his dog tags while you two bathed together. So it was only natural you stared appreciatively as they comfortably dipped between his chest.

You hummed and very subtly rolled your hips. Now, while that did earn a playful warning grip from his flesh hand on your hip, the very second after was met with a twitch inside you. Why? Well, because your nails hit that spot again. He opened his eyes a bit so he could just stare.

"Careful." he said softly and licked his lips. "I won't be able to continue like this if you keep-"

His words were interrupted by his own moan, a shuddering exhale escaping him. He was way more alert now that you were purposely trying to get a rise out of him. Bucky narrowed his eyes at you skeptically, letting your name fall from his lips.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a low, gravelly tone. You slowly removed your fingers from his hair and rinsed them in the water. Bringing your hands back up and cupping his face before leaning in close, your noses brushing against each other's.

"I'm on birth control." you whispered and watched him close his eyes again with his eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head and inhaled sharply. You could feel him twitch inside you once more.

"Don't say that." he said and gripped your hips tighter and sighed heavily through his nose. "How long?"

You took a dramatic pause to see his eyes flutter open.

"Two weeks." you said, your smile never faltered. He nearly broke right here as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder.

"The night I had you bent over my desk?" he asked in disbelief, rather cockily too. He remembered it like it just happened. One thing led to another, blah blah blah, and he had you gripping his desk like you'd fall through the floor. He even had you bite down on your own panties, you know, to stay quiet of course. That was a long, boring day for you both. And the head you gave him afterwards? Just filthy. He'll never get the image of your puffy lips wrapped around him and that dazed look in your eyes out of his head. Nastiest thing he ever did was lick up the cum that dripped onto your cleavage.

You've been planning this, huh? Oh, he could just-

"Get up." he said suddenly and lifted his head to look at you. It was a little hard to take him seriously when he had a head full of suds, but the way his pupils blew so wide let you know he wasn't joking.

"But your hair-"

"I'll rinse it." he said and lifted you up off his lap, his heart fluttered at the way your chest bounced in his face. "Wait for me, please?" he asked with pleading eyes. He squeezed your thigh like it was the only thing keeping him on Earth. You looked at him and couldn't help but laugh. You leaned down and gave him a tender kiss before standing up and pushing the shower curtain aside, deliberately getting out slowly so he could watch the water dripping down nearly every inch of your body. Grabbing your towel from the rack, you didn't look back at him,

"Don't keep me waiting." you said and sauntered on out.

It was comical, really. Because you barely had time to hang your towel back up before you felt his strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind. He wasted no time peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder, making you giggle at the prickly stubble he was so stubborn about.

He spun you around and carried you to your bed, yet he was inside you before your back even met the blanket. You gasped as he hovered over you, his dog tags dangling in your face. He was well aware how much you loved when he kept them on during intimate moments, it's why he was fine with them being on in the bath.

Just in case.

Bucky grabbed the lower one and swiped it between your lips. "Open," he whispered. When you opened your mouth, he let it dangle between your teeth. "Bite." he added, nodding along as you obeyed. He smiled and hooked your legs around his waist, making sure to stay close so the tag didn't slip.

Your thighs tightened around him as he fucked you like you'd disappear. He panted like he ran a marathon in your ear while you still struggled to keep the tag between your teeth. Any noise you made was muffled by that little piece of metal, but that's what made the whole situation better. The most that could be heard in the room was skin slapping and your soft whimpers.

Bucky would purposely not drive too much into you just to preserve this as long as he could, because he knows if he went full throttle, he'd find the right spot and send you to the moon in just a few thrusts. His metal hand softly caressing your cheekbone juxtaposed the harsh connection of his hips down south.

"You're sure you're on birth control?" he asked breathlessly and buried his face in your shoulder. You nodded with a lazy smile on your face.

"You'll make me a mother when I say you can." you said, your words only slightly obscured but he quickly put it all together. You spat the tag out your mouth and forced him to look at you with those drunken, hazy blue eyes. He made a noise you're not even sure you've heard before. It was like a pathetic and desperate groan. Gods, he was utterly smitten with you.

His pace stuttered when your intense gaze met his, causing him to stop for a moment. Everybody knows super soldier's have stamina for days, probably literally, but he was feeling so many things at the same time that it was hard to keep up.

"I want you to look me in the eyes when you do it." you said, locking your ankles around him. He almost collapsed right then and there. "You know what to do." you whispered.

Nothing else had to be said as he followed your orders. He picked up the pace again, this time with the right amount of speed and force that instantly made you squirm. The determination on your face didn't last very long, but you didn't have time to be embarrassed. He quickly pressed his lips against yours at the exact moment he knew you'd cum, holding you tighter just to make sure he was hitting that spot repeatedly.

Your body tensed beneath him as you came, and he soon followed after. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he pressed himself fully inside and pumped you full. So much so that it started to spill out. Your lips moved out of sync and intensely before he pulled away, staring into your eyes while he completely drained himself in and outside. He smiled lazily at the sight of you, the sight only he gets to see.

"Oh, Madam President," he groaned and grabbed one of your hands to kiss your palm twice. He slowly pulled out and reveled in the lewd sounds from you and your body that came with it, looking proudly between your legs. "You spoil me." he added with a soft kiss on your forehead.

After cleaning up, which he so naturally generously offered to do for both of you, you were now cuddled up in bed. His arms safe and secure around you as you listened to his heartbeat.

"Anything important planned for tomorrow?" you asked while tracing along the ridges of his metal arm. He let out a sigh and shook his head in growing irritation.

"Attending a hearing tomorrow." he said, "Valentina's in deep shit and I need to find out if there's any glaring evidence."

Bucky kept it vague intentionally. He didn't want you to get involved or worry about anything. He also didn't want to make it obvious that it was the sole reason he became Congressman in the first place. It'd probably make him sound crazy.

"I heard about that. I won't be able to go because I have to fly out and campaign up north for a bit. But I'll be at the gala." you paused your idle tracing and looked up at him. "How come you need to know if there's glaring evidence?" you asked curiously. It was innocent, simple, but he froze.

"I just...want to keep up with what's going on around here."

Not entirely a lie, not entirely the truth. It's the first time he wasn't completely honest with you. However he was relieved when you let it go and finally went to fall asleep in his arms.

The campaigning went great! The hearing, not so much. Talk about stressed the fuck out. He was fed up with this whole charade. It started to feel like everyone was in on it except for him.

There were a million things on his mind, but then it kept circling back to you. It soothed him. His jaw unclenched and his shoulders slumped whenever he thought of you. He kept thinking about how you'd look, dressed to the nines for the gala tonight. It brought a very slight smile to his face, even while he was glaring at Val and figuring out a way to get Mel on his side.

The gala was buzzing tonight, just as he thought. Just a bunch of fake, snobby men and women schmoozing around. His eyes darted around for you from the balcony, but there was no sign. Just a sea of fake smiles and champagne.

Some time had passed and Bucky had just got finished talking with Congressman Gary when he walked over to the balcony and searched again. He watched Val talking with someone with a big smile on her face, a huff leaving his lips.

"This case must be that serious." a voice said from behind him. He stopped tapping the banister and turned around to see you standing there, a skinny glass half full of champagne between your fingers. You looked...amazing. All noise from the gala faded the second his eyes locked on you. You took a few steps closer until you were in front of him.

"You've been staring at her all night." you added, finishing the drink in one go. Bucky's train of thought was shot to hell but he did remind himself a million times that if you showed up, he couldn't just act the way he does behind closed doors with you. Instead, he took the glass from your hand to put it on a nearby table, looked over his shoulder for any cameras pointing in this direction, and then took your hand to lead you somewhere; a blind spot, if you will.

Next thing you know, you weren't expecting to end your night with the back of your dress bunched up in his fist and his metal hand cupped around your neck as he took you from behind in a dark corner, but hey, who's complaining? There was a low chance of getting caught and he got to relieve the stress from the day. Everybody wins!

"You've been waiting all day, huh?" you teased. He exhaled stopped abruptly, brushing against that spot he's sure he didn't miss.

"Madam-"

"-Secretary?"

You blinked and quickly looked up from your desk to see your assistant standing in front of you, a panicked look on his face.

"You might want to see this..." he said as he handed you the tablet. Your brows furrowed as you took it from him.

"What is it? Numbers decreasing?" you asked as you scrolled upwards.

"Worse." he said. "The title of the article..."

Once you reached the top of the page, your eyes widened and the tablet dropped from your hands.

'Secretary of State and Presidential Candidate Needs Votes That Bad?' in bold lettering, a clear and candid picture of you and Bucky leaving your house early in the morning from yesterday. You could almost feel your heart stop in your chest as you met your assistant's eyes again.

"How long has this been up?"

"...An hour." he answered quietly. You came to your feet and started pacing around the room. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. "And...Congressman Barnes resigned this morning."

You stopped pacing and turned to face him fully. Was it the article? By choice? For you? For him?

"I need to make a call." you said and pulled your phone from your pocket. "Privately."

"Yes ma'am." he said, grabbing the tablet and hurrying out.

Your shaking hands quickly dialed Bucky's number, "Pick up, pick up," you pleaded and started pacing again, but no answer.

No answer?

You called three more times and still...nothing.

A few hours passed and still no response. You'd gone home early to figure out how you're going to deal with this and still have the people on your side. You didn't even dare to open any social media and the press nearly followed you home, your phone was blowing up with calls and texts. You couldn't believe it. During a crucial time like this, he was MIA. Nowhere to be found.

Turning on the TV, of course the news channel was on. You were about to change it when you saw them talking about some figure floating in the sky and causing destruction to the city. You were about to look up what people were saying in the internet then suddenly... everything went dark.

You woke up on the floor of your living room when you heard a knock at the door. Your eyes flickered to the news on the TV flashing "New Avengers!" on the bottom of the screen.

You had a mild headache as you stood up slowly, looking around confused when the knock came again. The second you opened the door your expression dropped to a scowl.

"Why are you here?" you asked him. Bucky just looked at you like a wounded dog. He knows he fucked up big time. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out so brushed past you and walked further into your house.

"Listen... I'm sorr-"

A loud smack connected to his face before he could finish his sentence. He sighed softly and nodded.

"I deserve that." he said in a soft tone.

"Where the hell were you?" you bit.

"It's...a lot to explain-"

"The fuck it is." you scoffed and walked away from him. He ran his hands over his face and followed after you. This time ending up in your personal space when you stopped in the kitchen.

"Can you just listen to me?"

"Bucky." you warned, not looking at him but you could see how close he was in your peripheral. You felt him trying to grab your hand and you swatted him off. But you weren't quick enough before he caught it and pulled you towards him. You glared at him and attempted to pull away.

"Let go-" you almost gritted out, but he pulled you so close, your mouths clashed together. You tried to fight, you really did, but that familiar strong hold of his always had the same effect on you at the end of the day. It was almost laughable.

Your free hand bunched his shirt up by the collar to show you were still mad at him and all he had to do was slide his hand down to the small of your back to make your grip loosen. He pulled away and began kissing down your jaw, muttering softly in your ear.

"I'm really sorry for not answering you," he said as he reached your neck. "I will explain everything. I promise. I won't ask for forgiveness either." he added. You honestly checked out before he even reached your neck, clutching onto his shoulders.

"It's okay," you finally said. "Cause you're going to make it up to me."

He hummed and slipped his hands under your blouse, kissing your shoulder.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Look at me." you gritted, not even minding the cold counter against your back. His blinked a few times to stay anchored while your thighs wrapped around his head. His hands happily gripped the plush flesh keeping him from breathing normally. You had a grip on his hair and he just kept on licking you up like candy. Just like that night you first ever got intimate.

He was home.

You let up a little bit so he could breathe but your grip remained. "I'm almost there." you whispered like a prayer, which only drove him to knead your thighs and eat you out more efficiently. He was going to make it up to you and he was going to do it right.

Your thighs tightened around him as your climax washed over you. It left you gasping and twitching. You moaned out Bucky's name as your grip on his hair loosened and he just took it all. Every last bit of your essence coating his beared was just another reason to smile everyday for the rest of his life.

Bucky peeled your legs apart and stood up with a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. "I think I'm okay with the media knowing this is what you come home to." he said before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Oh, and by the way, the media was in fact on your side. #IGetIt trended nationwide for a month and undoubtedly pushed the popularity vote towards you!

Congratulations, Madam President!

#n3ptoonz #smut #bucky barnes #thunderbolts #congressman james buchanan barnes #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

95 notes · View notes

florencebirdsong · 8 hours ago

Text

Water For A Word

Dark Agatha Harkness x Reader

Basement Bunny - Chapter 1/10

Summary: obedience is the first step to teaching a bunny.

18+ Minors DNI

Tags: dark fic, conditioning, training, kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, no actual smut (yet), food used as a method of control (descriptions of being hungry and feeling over-full), future stockholm syndrome

Words: 4,270

Authors note: Here we go!!! I am both nervous and excited to post this. I really hope you enjoy it! The rest of the chapters will be posted for kinktober so that will be 8-9 chapters spread out over the month :)

ao3 | masterlist

You’ve walked home alone so many times it barely worries you. It’s dark when you start so you finish when it’s still light. There’s plenty of people around and you try your best to stay aware of your surroundings. You thought you were safe. You were wrong.

There’s a tiny shortcut between two streets. The streets curve towards each other so it’s only a few hundred metres/nine-hundred feet or so. You’ve walked through there a thousand times. It’s rare to cross paths with someone let alone have someone walk behind you.

You don’t know she’s behind you and you don’t get halfway down the lane. One moment you’re walking peacefully thinking about what you’ll have for dinner, the next there’s a sharp sting in your neck and you’re collapsing to the ground. Someone catches you. Darkness fills your vision before you see who.

You come-to in a concrete room, barely. Your head aches, your tongue feels thick and you can’t push yourself up. Your everything is too heavy to look around but the section of the room you can see holds nothing but the bare mattress you’re on. Your eyes slip shut again against your will.

The next time you wake up is much nicer. Physically. You’re still in an empty concrete room. A basement, maybe. With no windows. You still feel a little drowsy but otherwise nothing hurts. Your mouth is dry. You look around the room. There’s nothing else on the other side. All you have is a bare mattress and a door to keep you company. At least the mattress isn’t a single.

Wait. A door. You scramble towards it. You almost fall but you catch yourself before you land. You stumble the last two steps. The handle rattles but doesn’t move. You yank on it and when that doesn’t work you lever yourself up on it to try and force it down with your body weight. Still no more movement than before.

You rest your head against the door with a sigh. It would’ve been more unsettling if the door had been unlocked but the idea of being trapped in a windowless room isn’t much fun either. You move back to the mattress and sit slumped on the edge. You look around again to see if you’ve missed anything. You don’t think you have until you remember to look up.

The lights are a soft yellow instead of the harsh white of LEDs which is nice. The roof is too high for you to be able to reach them, even if you jumped from the mattress. Your eyes trail along the roof, just as bland as every other side of the room, and snag in the corner. A red blinking light greets you. A camera.

You startle to your feet, twisting to check the other corners. There’s one in all four. Whoever took you is watching you. You want to take them down. To rip them out and use them against your captor but there’s no way to reach them. You slowly sit back down again. There isn’t anything else you can do but wait.

———

Time feels endless when there’s no natural light to tell you it’s passing. You try counting the seconds but it got hard to keep track once every finger counted as ten minutes. Being able to count to six hundred without zoning out is a skill you don’t have and no one is here to tell you where you left off.

You’ve sunk into a mindless, quiet nothing when the door finally opens. The sound of a lock clicking has you straightening. Then another lock clicks. Then another. It keeps going until you’ve counted six. There’s no way you’re strong enough to break six, no matter how many times you slam your body weight against the door. The steel door won’t smash like a wooden one would.

The door gives a low groan as it opens. A woman steps through, which is a subconscious surprise. She’s…pretty. Not the first thought you should have upon meeting the person who kidnapped you but she is. Maybe even beautiful but that’s a step too far for your frazzled mind.

You don’t stand. Being eye to eye would feel better but you’re wary of upsetting the person between you and the door. If you startle her she might leave, if you scare her she might hurt you. So you stare quietly up at the woman and wait for her to move first. She’s holding a cold glass of water. The dripping condensation draws the eye of your parched throat.

“What’s my name?” she asks calmly.

You frown. She snatched you off the street and she hasn’t bothered to introduce herself. How could you possibly know?

Would it be more insulting to guess a middle-aged white woman name or would it be better to ask?

“I don’t know,” you settle on.

“Mistress,” she says in the same calm tone.

That’s not a name, it’s a title. Which is not the thing to focus on. She wants you to call her that? Is she crazy?

Of course she is, she kidnapped you.

“What’s my name?” she asks again.

You hesitate. Calling her that isn’t even on the list of horrible things you thought she would do to you but it still feels like a slippery slope.

But she hasn’t done anything to you yet, apart from the whole locking you in a windowless room thing. Maybe testing the waters is better than starting to think of her like that. She cocks a brow at your silence. You look at the ground instead of at her. She doesn’t say anything else. The door closes with a dull thud and you listen with dread as a half-dozen locks click into place.

———

Time passes slowly with no way to track it. Your normal methods of daydreaming don’t help when all you want is to be home. Your cracked lips aren’t helping either. Anytime you start to sink into a daydream the sting of your lips pulls you back.

Locks click and you scramble to your feet. She walks in wearing the same thing as before, a sweating glass of water in her hand. You think that fits. That it hasn’t been a full day since she took you, but you’re already so thirsty. Is it the pointed lack of water that’s making the feeling worse or is this some sort of mind game?

She gives you an appraising look before asking again, “What is my name?”

“I don’t know,” you say much quieter this time.

She stares at you for a long moment, probably giving you a chance to reconsider, and you watch a drop of condensation slip onto her hand. Your lips burn and you lick them to try and bring some relief. It only makes it worse. You only get a quirk of her lips before she leaves again.

The first drop of regret slips into your chest.

———

You don’t get up the next time she enters. Hunger wars with thirst within you and it’s easier to stay curled over your knees. She’s still wearing the same outfit, which doesn’t make any sense,but the word is out of your mouth before she can ask.

“Mistress.”

A small, pleased smile graces her lips. She steps towards you and you shrink in on yourself. She doesn’t come any closer. Instead, she crouches down without taking her eyes off you and places the tall glass of water on the ground. Your eyes flick between hers and the glass. You lock onto her when she rises again. Meeting her eyes for so long is unnerving but the risk that she reaches for you is too great.

She steps back but doesn’t leave, her eyes still fixed firmly on your face. You look down at the glass again. It’s awfully close to her and much further away from you. Of course it was too much to hope she’d just leave it.

“Mistress,” you try again.

This time she doesn’t smile. She doesn’t move at all. Your dry tongue is too great to ignore and you cautiously uncurl. When she still doesn’t move you reach forward. The glass is too far but a part of you fears she’ll lunge for you.

You shift to your knees and then your feet, staying crouched low. Still she doesn’t move. You take two big, quick steps and snatch the glass up before scuttling back. Water sloshes over the side but you’re too panicked to care. It feels like your heart is going to launch out of your throat.

She doesn’t move. You gulp down the water. When it’s gone you barely resist the urge to lick it off your shaking hand. You hold the empty glass close to your chest and watch her warily. Anything could happen now that her game is over.

She points to the floor and you follow her finger, half expecting to see something. There’s only the ring of water left by your glass. You look back up at her for a clue but her face doesn’t give any. Your hand tightens around the glass and you realise it is, in fact, made of glass. Sharp, breakable glass.

The impulse to smash it against the ground is strong. The look on her face hardens and you freeze. There’s a challenge to her gaze. You want to meet it, she kidnapped you, but some common sense remains in your hazy mind. If your shaky hands fail you there’s a good chance she’ll leave you down here to rot. And the little water she’s given you has only made your thirst worse. What if she makes you wait until you’re on the brink of dying? What if she makes you do something worse than call her mistress? You’re already dreading what she’ll ask you to do for food.

You’re much slower moving forward this time and your retreat is the same careful pace. Your eyes stay glued to her and her hands. There’s something sharper to her smile this time but you can’t tell what it means.

“Good pet,” she says before picking up the glass. You watch her leave in silence.

That…isn’t a good sign.

———

Twice more she comes in with a glass of water, gives it to you when you utter her favourite word and leaves without saying anything. The third time something changes. She’s in a different outfit. You blink at her. She seems more…intent this time. It’s unnerving.

“Do you want some water?” she asks. That’s also new.

You hesitantly nod. When that doesn’t work you say, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please?” you guess. The person who kidnapped you wants you to use manners. Sure, why not. But that doesn’t work either. You try to think. It’s a new question so you doubt mistress would wor— oh.

“Yes, mistress.”

This time she lets out a pleased hum and places the glass down. You’re a bit more cautious when going for the glass this time with so many things different but you don’t repeat the mad scramble of the first time.

It’s the same routine. You drink, she points, you place, she picks up and leaves.

———

You lose track of how many times this repeats but the words feel natural by the time hunger pains start to really hit you. She hasn’t mentioned food. She hasn’t mentioned much of anything. You’ve been too scared of what she’ll want to bring it up yourself before now. Now you’re desperate.

The next time she enters you stay pressed against the wall. She hasn’t done anything to you, except for the few bruises during the kidnapping, but it’s still better to be cautious when breaking the safe pattern you have going on. Who knows what she’s like angry? Your distance doesn’t seem to phase her.

“Do you want some water?” she asks like always.

“No,” you say. You think it’s surprise that crosses her face. Or maybe curiosity? “Um,” it feels wrong to be going off book but you’ve rehearsed this line a hundred times in your head, “I would like some food, mistress. Please.” you still stumble and mentally chide yourself for fucking it up. Now the please will sound like an afterthought!

She gives you a considering look. Your blood rushes in your ears. Is she mad? Did you make a mistake? You’re starving, what else could she want you to do?

She leaves. You try not to focus on the fact that she took the water with her.

———

Relief floods you when she returns. This time with a bowl. Your mouth waters at the smell. It has you moving to your usual spot without thinking. It’s only when you’ve stopped that your nerves hit you again. What will she want this time?

You eye her nervously. She remained still and quiet while you got into position. She doesn’t move again until you meet her eyes. She points at her feet. You look down but there’s nothing there. You look up at her again but she doesn’t move. You swallow nervously.

The only times she’s pointed before was as a direction to put the glass back but you don’t have anything. Your eyes dance around the room but no new objects appear. You can feel your stomach growl and your eyes return to the bowl.

She wants something for it. Frustration claws at you. She’s normally so clear and the one time you’re desperate she goes mute? You meet her gaze again but the only thing showing is some mild curiosity. Another point in this being a behaviour science experiment, you think bitterly as you look at her shoes again. Nothing comes to you.

“Mistress,” you try. It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. That hasn’t worked for— for however long it’s been since she wanted you to say ‘yes, mistress’. It doesn’t make sense since she hasn’t asked a question but you’re desperate enough to try. “Yes, mistress.” Still nothing. A quick look at her face shows it hasn’t changed. At least she’s not mad. “Please, mistress?” desperation begins to seep into your voice. Three heartbeats of you holding eye contact has her pointing down again.

This time, mercifully, she says, “Come, pet.”

You scramble over immediately, kneeling at her feet like an obedient dog. You don’t care how you look when she holds the bowl out to you. You reach for the food eagerly.

“Ah,” she tuts just before you touch it. So close, it’s so close. It’s a struggle not to crumble. Or steal it out of her hands. “Manners.”

But you already said please! Your fingers shake and your mind scrambles. Your arms ache from being raised for so long. Manners manners manners. Use your manners. It’s always been said to you when being made to say please. What else is there? Excusing yourself, introducing yourself, than—

“Thank you, mistress,” you burst out. A brilliant smile greets you and warmth flushes through you.

She moves the bowl a little closer to you. You very carefully take it, avoiding her fingers. Your hands stay where they are just in case. She nods and you lower the bowl to your lap. You stare at the food for a long moment. It’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever smelt and your hand shakes as it slowly picks up the wooden fork. You look up at her one more time, just in case. You have to look away again. It’s unsettling to have someone so solely focused on you.

You should be more careful but you can’t resist the need of your body. You shove a forkful into your mouth and moan. All thoughts of poison or sedatives fly out of your head. There’s many times where food has tasted better because you were hungry but it wasn’t like this. Flavour explodes on your tongue and you shovel more food into your mouth before you’ve finished chewing. You eat it fast enough to almost choke, the bowl emptying in seconds. The woman’s gaze on you the entire time.

You don’t think to savour it until it’s gone. You look mournfully down at the empty bowl. You don’t feel even close to full. There’s probably some science there about how fast you ate but you don’t care. You crave the feeling of being full until you’re bursting.

A hand appears and you flinch. It doesn’t come towards you. You stare uncomprehendingly before remembering the bowl in your hands. You raise it to her, careful not to touch her. You half expect her to make you thank her again. You’re half-tempted to anyway. You’re even more tempted to beg for more right now.

“Maybe a bit slower next time, pet. I’d hate for you to choke,” she says with a lazy smirk.

Did she just? You stare up at her with wide eyes. She’s so…expressive in that moment. You don’t know what to do. Her grin widens before she turns to leave. You blink as you watch her walk straight out. You hadn’t noticed that she’d left the door open. It closes behind her with a loud click.

The food sits uncomfortably in your stomach. It feels like it’s pressing against your skin, yet your body is still sending hunger signals every second. You probably just ate too quickly. You’ve been without food for a while and stomachs can shrink so quickly. You press on your stomach to try and focus on the tight feeling instead of the hungry one. It sort of works.

You’d distract yourself if you had found a good method. The little you’ve been able to has barely helped with the fear and boredom. Adding hungry and full to that list isn’t going to help. Still, you settle onto your mattress…after giving up hope of her immediately returning again with seconds.

Trying to imagine your favourite show hasn’t worked. It only makes the want to not be here worse. Something it did sometimes in your before-life too. Thinking of what you’d be doing if you were free just hurts, and the thought of friends makes you sad. Your next plan is a show you’re mildly curious about and have a general idea of the plot. No strong attachments, no strong feelings and hopefully enough curiosity to make up possible story points.

You curl up then stretch out when it reminds you of your stomach. You’re out of ideas. If this doesn’t work you’re screwed.

———

Her next visit is a water one and you try not to let your disappointment show. Her amusement tells you you’ve failed. She makes you come to her again, which you don’t think is fair since food and water are two very different things. You aren’t able to take it without grazing her fingers. Electricity shoots up your arm and you almost drop the glass in surprise.

You knew, logically, that human contact is a need but to actually feel the effects of going without it is jarring. There’s a small smile playing around her lips. The scarier one that shows when you give in. Not the pleased one that makes you feel warm. You can’t bring yourself to be slow under a look like that and gulp the water down. It removes what little taste of flavour was left in your mouth. You miss it despite it being a constant reminder.

You hold the glass at its base when you raise it up to her. She purposely runs her fingers over yours before taking it. You shiver.

“Food next,” she says and leaves with little ceremony.

It’s hell to count the passing minutes but at least it gives you something to look forward to.

———

The next time she enters, with her promised bowl of food, you kneel at her feet the second she points. It was hard not to scramble over immediately but you stopped at your usual spot just in case. The food is different but just as good. You’re half-way through it when something touches your head. You flinch so hard you almost lose your fork.

Looking up, you stare with wide eyes at the hand inches from your head. Had she…touched you? Was that something you should allow? Probably not, but the bowl is still in your hand and you aren’t full. You slowly lower the fork back and your captor’s hand does the same. You can’t bring yourself to lift the fork again as her fingers settle on your head. You were planning on trying to savour this one, with only minor success so far, but now you’re debating downing it like you did the last one.

You could try and get her to stop but you have a feeling the bowl will be taken from you if you do. Hesitantly, you slowly raise the full fork to your mouth. Her hand doesn’t move. You weren’t sure what you were expecting her to do but whatever it was she doesn’t do it. She doesn’t do anything. She just stands there as you slowly take three bites.

Her hand isn’t heavy or anything. She isn’t leaning on you. It’s just there. Still and unsettling. You eat the rest of the food as fast as you can without choking. You hold the bowl out before you’ve swallowed the last bite. The hand disappears to take it. You risk a glance up. She doesn’t say anything and you can’t read the expression on her face. She stares at you for a long moment before leaving once again.

You pretend you aren’t disappointed at the lack of a parting remark as you focus on the unsettled feeling in your gut. What had she meant by touching your head? She didn’t do anything so what was the point? Just to touch you? To show that she can? To convince herself you’re here?

The last thought is unsettling enough that you shove it aside. She’s the only connection you have to the outside world, the only one who knows where you are. If she loses it, you’re lost.

You can’t know what she’s thinking or what she really wants, even if patterns are emerging, so there’s no use dwelling on it. Instead, you curl up against the wall and picture your favourite food. Maybe the lady will read your mind and bring it down next time.

———

She doesn’t touch you during the next water visit which is a relief. Being so close to her doesn’t feel so overwhelming now, although you’re careful to keep track of her every movement, and you allow yourself the risk of sipping the water instead of inhaling it.

She doesn’t say anything. She merely stands there and stares. Her eyes never leave you. They rarely do. The realisation should be unsettling but it’s nice to know you’re real to someone. You exist, even if it’s only in the presence of your kidnapper.

You raise the glass to her when you’re done. Her fingers trail over yours before she takes it. She lingers a moment, still staring, before leaving without a word. You don’t understand why she isn’t talking.

———

She enters with water a second time and is as silent as the last. It’s unsettling. She wasn’t chatty before but this dead silence is starting to get to you. You’ve started tapping the walls just to hear something new.

You’re almost hopeful the next time she brings food but she’s as quiet as before. Her hand rests on your head again and you barely even startle. Maybe she’ll talk if you’re more compliant.

The next food visit is the same thing. And the next one. And the next one. The sixth food visit after she started touching your hair the light pressure is hardly a blip in your routine. It’s still a little weird but everything about your situation is more than a little weird and she doesn’t do anything. What’s the point in denying yourself food when her fingers don’t so much as twitch?

You jinxed yourself with that thought. The seventh time the woman brings you food, her fingers move. You freeze, the fork still in your mouth. They start with small gentle circles that slowly grow until she starts carding her fingers through your hair. You slowly lower your fork back into the bowl.

This is…this is bad, right? You should take a stand. Put the bowl down or maybe even throw it at her. But it doesn’t feel bad. It feels almost…nice. Her fingers running through your hair. Every now and then she lightly scrapes her nails over your scalp.

Still, you shouldn’t allow it so you think about discarding the food and moving away. You almost do, you tell yourself, except you don’t. The memory of that gnawing hunger still hits you like a brick. The painful cramping and the way it felt like your stomach was disappearing as it ate itself. You feel phantom pains at just the thought and quickly shove another mouthful in.

A hum has you looking up. A pleased smile greets you and she slightly scrapes her nails over your scalp again. You shiver, even if you pretend you don’t.

“Good bunny,” she says, her voice low.

The relief of hearing another voice again has you slowly taking another bite. Her smile grows. You look down again and finish your food. You don’t look up when she takes the bowl or when she leaves.

You tell yourself you’re fine. That everything is fine and normal and you’re just making sure you survive. That’s all. That’s all it is and all it will be. You’re fine.

#birdsong writes #darkfic #kidnapp/ing cw #basement bunny au #agatha h.#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x reader #agatha x you #reader insert #x reader #x you #fanfiction #dark agatha harkness x you #dark agatha harkness #dark agatha harkness x reader #dark agatha

74 notes · View notes

last-words-ofashootingstar · 12 hours ago

Note

hey! Just found your blog and will be doing a deep dive! I saw your prompts and would love to make a request of my own? So I've been very much in cnc deep dive?? idk it just kinda knocked tf outta me and I haven’t gotten up yet so that's fun 🙂‍↔️

anyway... can I pretty please have a 113 "bite me harder — i like it" and a 214 cnc with Yunho? I feel like this would really do a number on me

thank you 😌😌

➯a/n: i just fell to my knees and startED BARKING OMGGG YES. bias wrecker + a personal favorite kink... you betcha i had fun with this one ➯a/n2: this is the request that originally smacked me in the face w the idea for "lowlife princess" so i had to think of something else kkkk sorry for the wait !

Stress Relief

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

113: "bite me harder — i like it"

✈︎queued for: tues 3rd

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 214 cnc meaning reader: fights, bites, begs & yunho: forces, restrains, threatens, mocks. there IS one time yunho uses the word 'rape' and asks if she likes it, but the first c stands for consensual, this is just a couple roleplaying. idol yun / gf reader, mean dom yun, venting frustration through sex, hide and seek with high stakes, fingering, minimal prep, using a belt as restraint, yun REALLY likes being bit, unprotected + creampie, multiple male orgasms, churning butter (fucking after a creampie 🫠), pet names (doll, sweetie, love, angel), aftercare and domestic fluff a bit further down

➯cnc disclaimer: CONSENT IS SEXY. all parties are and always will be consenting in my stories. cnc is a way to explore power dynamics and it's attractive to many people, it does not "promote s/a", the first c is CONSENSUAL. you should only ever do it with someone who you trust. be safe and stay freaky !!

♡masterlist + tag form !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @everyonewooeverywhere @willowwyy @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+.MINORS GTFO.

ᥫ᭡

It always surprises you just how intense your boyfriend can be.

Even if you've played out this scene a million times over, your heart still thuds in your chest so roughly that you're afraid it will give away your hiding spot.

"Come out, come out~" Yunho sing-songs as he stalks through the dimly lit apartment. "C'mon, doll," he says loudly, "I'm not really mad at you. Come on out, we can talk about this like adults."

Of course he's not mad. You're both having the time of your lives with this game of cat and mouse. You always do.

The rapid beat of your heart is making your entire body hot — and the knowledge that he's going to fuck you when he finds you adds to the fire.

He gave you a five minute heads up before he got to your shared apartment, and then the game was on.

"It's just been a rough day is all," he hums as he opens up the hall closet, tutting his tongue as he faces nothing but towels and washcloths. "I could use some help de-stressing." The door to your bedroom is slightly ajar, and he kicks it open the remainder of the way lazily. "Is it so bad to want my girlfriend to help me?"

This is you helping him. Giving him the thrill, the adrenaline rush of finding you and then giving it all your might but always falling short when fighting him off. It makes him feel like he's got all the control in the world after a shitty day of being perfect for the world. He can be as nasty and mean as he wants with how he takes you, and you both love it.

"I won't even fuck you if you come out," he speaks into the silent air, "how about that? You come out now — I'll just use your throat. Is it a deal, sweetie?"

Your hand twitches at the door knob, thinking over which option you want more. You let your hand fall back to your side in the end. You're already wet with the promise of having your boyfriend inside of you.

"No?" He pouts as he looks under the bed. "You know our place is only so big, right? I'm going to find you eventually. And when I do —"

You turn the knob slowly.

"— I'm going to fuck you until you cry!"

You dash out of the bathroom as quickly as possible, making a bee line for the front door. You hear his footsteps behind you immediately.

You don't even make it out of the hallway before his arms wrap around you; pinning yours to your sides. "There you are, love~" He chuckles, pulling your back to his chest, "running away from me? Really? Has that ever worked for you before?"

"Stop it!" You yelp as he drags you towards the bedroom. "I don't want to!"

"You should've taken my offer then," he grunts as he crashes you both onto the bed, landing on top of you and catching his weight with one of his hands; the other pushing your face into the blankets. "You know I'm not a liar, sweetie. I'd have just choked you on my cock if you played nice and came out-" He shoves his knee between your thighs, pressing it against your heat, "but no."

"Please-"

"I don't want to hear it. Not another damn peep unless it's, 'yes, Yunho.' Got it?" He growls, shoving your face deeper into the mattress as he presses his knee against you harder.

You feel your heartbeat in your cunt, almost drooling at his words before you gulp.

You shake your head as much as you can under his palm, letting out a whine. "I'm not ready to take y-"

"Don't worry, love." He pats your head before he lets go, sitting up on his knees. "I'm not a monster, I'll stretch you out first." You gasp as he yanks your shorts and underwear down in one rough tug — not even bothering to remove them all the way before his hand meets your wetness.

You kick your legs, trying to push away from him when he sits on the back of your thighs and stills you. "Stay put, doll. Wouldn't want to hurt you~" He grins as you yell into the sheets, grabbing at them to cope with the sudden intrusion of two of his long fingers inside of you.

"Ahh! Slow down!" You plead as you reach back and try to grab at him. He's thrusting and curling his fingers inside to you so roughly that you can feel his pent up energy in every move. And you can feel a ball of pleasure winding up in your gut much too quickly.

He only tuts his tongue, chuckling at your attempts to get away. He can tell you're really giving it your all to please him. Because it makes it all the better that you can't get anywhere.

Putting all of your strength into your hips, trying to buck away but only succeeding in driving his fingers deeper. Your moans mixing in with your grunts of effort make his hard length pulse with want.

"You really think I'm gonna go easy on you? I told you," he grips the back of your neck with his free hand, pushing another finger into you as you groan, "I had a rough fucking day. Be good and let me fuck all my stress into you. Can't you do that for me?"

All that you can do is whine at the intense stretch of his fingers inside of you. "Please, slow down-"

"Fine." He pulls his digits out quickly, covered in your arousal. "I'm getting impatient anyway."

While he leans back to remove his belt, you manage to slide out from under him and scramble up the bed; getting caught by your ankle. He all but yanks you back to the middle of the mattress, forcing his way between your fidgeting legs as he pushes you onto your back.

"C'mon, I won't be long, sweetie." He won't be. Usually he has a pretty high stamina but watching you squirm gets him unbelievably worked up. Letting him do almost anything he pleases makes him hot in the ears. "Just need to feel you- need to fuck you."

He gathers up your wrists, wrapping his belt around them and holding both ends in one hand while the other guides his length towards you.

"Yun, wait-" Your voice gets cut off by a gasp that forces its way up your throat as he pushes into you slowly — making you feel the stretch. He pulls your arms above your head by the belt before leaning over and kissing you.

Kissing is one things you'll never fight him on. You meet his lips with just as much passion every time.

His lips slide against yours softly until he bottoms out, pulling back to look down at you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, go," you whisper, rewarded when he starts thrusting — slowly, at first.

But in no time at all, he's pounding all of his frustration into you, moaning and groaning non-stop as you tug against the leather on your wrists; breathing heavily and gushing around him.

"Fuck, angel..." He pants from above you, pressing his chest against you and resting his head next to yours. "This tight cunt of yours loves me," his moans are deep and rich with lust, "going to fill you up so good, and you can't stop me, can you~?"

You lick your lips, biting them for a moment as you look at his shoulder; barely covered by his tank top. Thinking about something he said he wanted to explore.

His hips stutter to a stop when you lean and nip at his skin. He lifts his head quickly, meeting your eyes; dazed. "Did you just bite me?"

"It made you stop, didn't it?" The small smirk is wiped off your face as he starts fucking into you harder. Prodding at every spot inside of you that makes you see stars; makes your back arch as far as it can while crushed under his weight.

"F-uck," he moans brokenly, "nothin' is going to make me stop." He yanks the strap down his shoulder and pulls your head to him. "Bite me harder — I like it."

You glare at him for a moment, but he can see the sparkle in your eyes before you sink your teeth in roughly.

He cums. Loud moans, jaw dropped, eyes closed, messy thrusts forming a milky ring around his base as he keeps furiously rutting into you — like he'll die if he stops.

His downright needy sounds, paired with his warm release making him slide in-and-out so easily pushes you off the edge as well; trembling below him and adding to the mess between your thighs.

He doesn't stop. "Yunho!" You wail shakily, twisting and turning and getting nowhere.

"I'm st- I'm still hard, love... M'gonna cum again," his voice is just as shaky as yours, his breath is hot and short as he looks down at you, "feeling you cum around me... I'll never get over it."

You've ran out of fight after your orgasm, but that doesn't stop him from pulling your bound arms down as he sits up; using them as leverage to pull you into his never-ending thrusts as his other hand finds your cunt, looking down at the messy scene as he swipes his thumb against your clit. And again. Then he starts drawing circles on it as your hips jerk.

"Yunho!!"

"What~?" He laughs breathlessly, eyes flicking between you and your twitching heat. "You going to cum again so soon? You like it that much, doll? You like it when I rape your messy little pussy?"

Evidently, yes. Because his near babbling moans paired with his harsh thrusts and his rough thumb on your clit send your eyes back into your head, cum-slicked walls clenching down on him so tightly that he has no choice but to unload another overflowing release into you.

Cursing under his breath, he leans over you; heavy cock still buried deep in your twitching walls. Both of his hands find your face, cradling it tenderly as he kisses you lewdly. It's all tongues and spit, moans and blissful hums traded from your mouth to his and from his to yours.

You work your wrists out of his belt and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging onto him loosely.

Neither of you want to pull away but unfortunately you can't live on each other's lips, you need air — and Yunho curses that fact as he leans back.

"Do you feel better, Yun?"

He smiles serenely, rubbing your heated cheeks as he holds your face softly. "Yes," he pecks your lips one more time, "you're the perfect stress relief."

ᥫ᭡

You're laid on your side next to him, admiring his peaceful features as he massages your tender wrists with lotion.

All of the tension in his shoulders is gone, his entire body and face completely relaxed as he listens to your breathing.

"Hey," you speak up softly, "what do you think about watching that new Kissing Booth movie?"

"They made another one? Ugh..."

"Ugh? Why ugh?" You nudge his leg with yours, "you like those movies."

"No, I like making fun of them with you." He chuckles, hands sliding down to rub your arms.

"Me too~ That's why I asked, dummy," you lean and kiss him softly, "please? Let's try to predict what stupid plot twist will happen next."

"Hm... I'll get some chips."

ᥫ᭡

#stars ask and receive #request #ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic

63 notes · View notes

astrakim · 1 day ago

Text

THE SPACE BETWEEN US [Preview]

> enemies to lovers | slow burn | bed-sharing | fluff, angst, emotional smut

>genre: childhood rivals to lovers, friends-forced-to-share-a-bed, emotional tension, slow burn

>word count: 17.9k

>summary: They started as neighbors. Then came a stupid night — and suddenly, Heeseung and Y/N were enemies. Years of rivalry, endless tension, and a thousand unspoken feelings between them.

When a group trip forces them to share a bed, everything changes. Jealousy flares. Secrets unravel. And the line between hate and desire blurs in ways neither of them expected.

What if the enemy was never really the enemy?

>warnings: suggestive tension, mutual pining, soft vulnerability, swearing, kissing, a lot of staring, protected sex (wrap it yall), oral (f.rec), fingering, heeseung is a flirt, misunderstanding, Sunoo lowkey OR highkey being a menace matchmaker, thats all ig let me know if I should add anything.

>status: sneak peek below! full fic soon ♡

>note: This is my first fic ever guyss, its not that good yet as I'm just starting out but its worth reading.

Reblogs and likes are really appreciated

Comment to get added to taglist of this fic

Enjoy your read!

“Why Do You Hate Heeseung So Much?”

People ask me that all the time.

Usually when we’re out — surrounded by too many snacks and too few brain cells — someone always turns to me with a grin and says,

“Come on, Y/N. Be honest. Why do you hate Heeseung so much?”

And I always have a list ready.

“He’s insufferable.”

“He thinks being tall makes him superior.”

“He flirts with waitresses then tips like a grandpa.”

It’s become a bit. A running joke.

But the truth?

The truth is I don’t actually hate Heeseung.

I just never forgave him.

Not really.

Because back when we were fifteen, there was this one night — the kind you don’t really forget.

The kind you carry with you even when you’re trying hard not to.

It was warm out. Sticky, quiet. One of those summer nights where everything feels a little more honest.

We ended up in the treehouse behind my backyard — the one we used to play in when we were kids. It wasn’t planned. Just one of those things where I looked out the window and saw him pacing his driveway, and he looked up like he was waiting for me to.

So I went.

And we talked.

About things we didn’t talk about with anyone else.

His parents. My insecurities. Feeling stuck. Feeling… seen.

For a second — maybe longer — it felt like something changed.

Like maybe we weren’t just neighbors. Or childhood friends. Or that weird undefined space in between.

There was a pause.

A moment.

I swore he was going to kiss me.

He didn’t.

And that was fine, a little disappointing because I always wanted him to be my first kiss… but it was fine.

But the next day?

He ghosted.

No texts. No calls. No “you up?” late-night window knocks like usual. Just… nothing.

Avoided me at school. Like I had made everything up in my head.

So when my friend asked about it, I said it was nothing. Just a “weird night.”

I laughed it off. Pretended I didn’t care but I did.

Pretended it didn't hurt but it did.

I waited. I gave it a day. Then another. Then another.

And eventually, I got tired of waiting.

I kept thinking: Was I wrong? Did I imagine it?

Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to him. Maybe I’d read it all wrong.

So I got angry. At him. At myself. At all of it.

Until one day….

Part 1 of full fic

🛏️ dm or comment to be tagged in the full fic!

#heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #heeseung ff #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen ff #slow burn #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung #enhypen #engene #the space between us

127 notes · View notes

cece693 · 3 days ago

Text

So, you know how Will continues therapy with Hannibal after he gets out of the BSCI (or however you spell it) . Well, I always wanted Will to be more angry, see more of his violent emotions towards Hannibal rather than falling further for him. So, that's where this idea came to mind: male reader seeking an apology while showing Hannibal he isn't some pawn on his chest board. Hope you enjoy!

SAY YOU'RE SORRY AND MEAN IT

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: honestly the male reader can be a stand in for will, reader wanting for hannibal to admit his mistakes and say sorry, infidelity, angst, confrontation, hurt, getting back together

The cuffs clicked shut on Hannibal’s wrists with a sound as neat and deliberate as one of his harpsichord chords. Police and FBI Agents surrounded your home, yet in the roar of voices, his eyes sought yours, maroon fastening on you like a blood knot. “I want you to know exactly where I am.,” he said while the orderlies wrestled him toward the armored van, every syllable tempered to carry across the distance. “And where you can find me.”

You didn’t answer. You let the van doors swallow him and told yourself the hollow that yawned inside your ribs was nothing but cauterized nerves.

It would heal.

It had to heal.

But Hannibal had made sure you’d remember the wound. Everything was a performance, another calculated step, another move in the intricate waltz he'd forced you to dance. Even in surrender, even as chains locked around his wrists and pulled him away from you, he still held power. He still sought control.

You felt the ache of fury pulse behind your eyes as the police dispersed, the blue and red lights stuttering against your walls until the driveway was empty. You closed the door, locking the deadbolt as if it might bar Hannibal’s ghost from entering your sanctuary.

Hours later, sleep still escaped you. Hannibal had always loved metaphors—he’d once whispered, with fingers pressed gently against your throat, how you orbited him like the moon orbits the Earth. A barycenter he’d called himself, amused, the very center of your gravity. You’d laughed at the time, thinking it merely charming vanity, but now you saw it for what it truly was: a calculated truth.

But gravity could be manipulated. It could be broken.

If Hannibal believed that you’d forgive him eventually, that you’d obediently fall back into his orbit, he was gravely mistaken. Perhaps once, you might have knelt willingly at the altar of his manipulations, but now your heart was sharpened by betrayal, your veins hardened by abandonment and indifference.

He’d shattered you, after all.

Sent you to be scrutinized like a lab rat under Chilton's ruse of psychiatry, placed behind bars that weren’t even of your own making. He watched you break down, watched the trust drain from your eyes as easily as he might pour wine at dinner, and never apologized. Even when evidence 'coincidentally' surfaced that proved your innocence, Hannibal didn't see anything wrong with your suffering. To him, your torment had been merely another step, another note in the grand symphony he'd composed. And now, even his surrender seemed nothing more than another manipulation—another seduction, carefully arranged to lure you back into his arms.

Not again.

If Hannibal wanted you so badly, he'd have to feel your absence. He would taste the bitterness you’d choked down night after sleepless night, imagining him tangled in Alana's sheets while you wasted away beneath Chilton’s 'care'. He would know precisely how it felt to have a piece of himself sliced away without warning.

So you found someone else—someone faceless, meaningless, an instrument of your revenge. You lost yourself in the embrace of a stranger, each touch clinical, devoid of warmth or tenderness. It was an ugly mirror of Hannibal’s own betrayal, a reflection of cruelty. But the sensation of vindictive triumph running through your veins, acidic and scorching, made it worth every agonizing second.

You purposefully prompted your one-night stand to leave marks on you, high where even the most innocent movement might reveal your misdeed. They bit down with careless eagerness, bruises blooming in violet and wine-dark crescents along your throat and collarbone. Each mark was deliberate, clinical in its intent—a quiet act of violence Hannibal would easily decipher.

The day after your forgettable sex, you dressed carefully in a shirt with one button open, so the most innocent movement would reveal your misdeed. Hannibal's sense of smell was phenomenal, so even after you bathed, you were certain the scent of another still clung to you like a whisper he couldn’t ignore.

When you arrived at the Baltimore State Hospital, Hannibal was already waiting, standing with his hands behind his back, and an unreadable half-smile ghosting along his lips. “You came."

“Of course,” you replied easily, stopping in front of the barrier, facing him with practiced nonchalance. “It was you who invited me here, after all.”

His gaze sharpened subtly, tracking every delicate shift in your posture, every hesitant pause. The collar of your shirt slipped slightly, and you noted the faint twitch of his mouth, the careful narrowing of his eyes. Hannibal missed nothing. “Did you sleep well last night?” he inquired mildly, voice smooth, controlled.

You shrugged lightly. “About as well as one might expect." You didn't need to say more. Hannibal inhaled, tiny, almost imperceptible, before his pupils shrank into pinpoints.

Citrus. Sweat not your own. The alkaline tang of latex.

Composure never faltered, but you felt it: a cello string stretched one tremor past tuning. You gave him your blandest smile and let the silence imply everything.

At last he spoke, voice dipped in lacquer. “You have taken comfort. I am pleased you feel safe enough to do so.”

The glass did not hide the way Hannibal's body stood straighter, the way his chest puffed up similarly to the way it did before he delivered death to his victim. Hannibal was obviously enraged by your actions, and the barrier was the only separator between you and him.

“Oh.” You feigned a subtle touch of surprise, fingers brushing the tender spots absently. “These? It’s nothing serious.”

He raised a delicate eyebrow, skepticism elegantly concealed beneath curiosity. “It appears somewhat deliberate for an accident.”

Your smile was faint, carefully innocent. “I suppose it depends on one’s definition of accident.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agreed softly, his voice dipping into a dangerous purr. “You’ve always been careful. Rarely do you indulge recklessness without purpose.”

“Maybe I’m finally breaking bad habits.”

He leaned forward subtly, assessing you with calculated calmness. “Is that what you’d call it?”

“Call it whatever you want,” you replied smoothly, careful not to grant him any concrete answer. “I prefer to think of it as rebalancing.”

His gaze fixed upon the visible bruises once more. Something dark flickered briefly behind his calm exterior, like clouds moving swiftly behind a moonlit sky. “Rebalancing implies equilibrium. You seem to prefer discord.”

“You should recognize your own technique,” you shot back softly. “I’ve learned from the best.”

His eyes narrowed subtly. You could almost hear the soft click of his jaw tightening. “Be cautious,” he warned gently, as if offering you sincere counsel, “One should never wield a weapon they don’t fully understand.”

“Who says I don’t understand?” you murmured. You leaned slightly closer to the glass, letting the marks fully register in his view. His reaction was subtle yet thrilling—a nearly imperceptible flare of his nostrils, the dangerous flexing of his fingers. “You taught me all about collateral damage.”

His voice cooled further, tempered now by thinly veiled irritation. “Intentional wounds have a habit of festering. Be careful that your attempts at retribution don’t infect you more deeply.”

“Careful?” You repeated mockingly. “That was never your concern before.”

For a moment his eyes met yours fully—raw, unmasked beneath all the silk-stitched civility. “You misunderstand. My concern has always been for you—even when you fail to see it.”

“You don’t have concern, Hannibal. You have motives.” You eased a step back, deliberately casual, letting disdain drag each movement like a velvet curtain. “It must be troubling—not knowing exactly what, or whom, has touched your pawns since you last set the board.”

His nostrils flared—the faintest fracture in composure. “Is that why you came? To flaunt an anonymous scent under the glass?” he asked, voice soft as a scalpel.

“I came to remind you I’m no man’s exhibit.” Your pulse hammered, but you held his stare. “While I rotted behind Chilton’s mirrored walls—while you paraded Alana to those pigs—my name bled beneath headlines that should’ve read HANNIBAL LECTER. You framed me, you fêted her, and you dare speak of concern?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, neither smile nor sneer. “I did not ‘fête’ Alana,” he murmured. “I performed grief in the only language she understood—physical comfort. She was an instrument, nothing more.”

“Then what was I?” Your voice cracked despite yourself. “A rehearsal?”

“A proof.” He advanced a half-pace. “The universe protests perfection; I needed to be certain you could endure its noise.”

“By throwing me into solitary and letting Chilton pick apart my mind? That isn’t endurance, Hannibal—it’s vivisection.”

“You survived,” he said, as if that settled everything.

“And you've never apologized. You make tactical dinners,” you snapped, “tactical friends, tactical lovers. I was supposed to be different.”

Something inside him shivered. “You are,” he said, and the honesty in it almost hurt worse. “Which is why the idea of another man’s fingerprints on your skin—”

“Frightens you?” You cut in. “Good. I hope it corrodes you.”

Before Hannibal could reply, you turned sharply, leaving him behind without the mercy of closure. His gaze burned hot against your spine, even through glass and stone and locked doors.

THREE WEEKS LATER

You told no one about the visit—not your new therapist, not Jack Crawford’s parade of well-meaning agents, certainly not the stranger who'd pressed you against a club wall just to prove you could still be wanted by someone who didn’t spell affection in arterial fonts. You changed apartments, dyed your hair two shades darker/lighter, and began answering to the middle name on your passport. It felt like peeling off skin that had grown over a knife.

Sometimes you managed whole daylight hours without thinking of him. Nights were harder; Hannibal filled the dark the way ink floods a cracked glass.

Then the headline crawled across every screen in America: LECTER ESCAPES DURING RIOT—TWO GUARDS DEAD

You didn’t bother packing—everything you owned still reeked of his gravity—but you did swap apartments again, a building whose only charm was anonymity and an exterior fire escape wide enough to bolt from. It wasn't a question whether Hannibal would come for you, it was when he would appear on your doorstep. Days passed, with the anticipation killing you, yet you knew better. Hannibal never chased on a calendar—he hunted on a pulse.

You were prepared for his appearance, hiding weapons all over your apartment, yet Hannibal coincidentally came when you had just stepped from a late shower, towel slung at your hips. The bedside lamp flickered once, twice, then extinguished—filament severed with surgical precision. Your pulse jack-hammered.

“Power outages are inconvenient,” Hannibal’s voice floated from the darkness, “but darkness clarifies intent.”

Adrenaline spiked so fast your vision sprinkled stars. “Get out,” you rasped, fumbling for the drawer where you kept a pocket knife—empty. The realization stung; he’d already breached every precaution. You wheeled—but he was already in front of you, so close the heat of his body coaxed goosebumps from your damp skin. A knife—your knife—glittered between his fingers before disappearing back into his sleeve like a stage prop.

“Careless,” he murmured, breath feathering your cheek. “Never hide weapons in predictable places.”

You slammed your palm into his chest, shoving with everything fury could lend; he let the momentum carry him half a step, then caught your wrist and spun you, pinning your back to his torso. The towel loosened. You cursed, struggling, but his grip found the fine ridge of your collarbone—pressing just shy of pain.

“Hannibal, I swear—”

“You’ve sworn enough, darling.” His voice vibrated inside your bones. “Letting another’s hands pattern your skin—was that the oath you chose instead?”

“You slept with Alana while I rotted.” You drove an elbow into his ribs; pain rippled up your arm as solid muscle refused to give. “One nameless hookup doesn’t begin to—”

“It begins,” he snarled, wrenching you around to face him, “with a scent I did not curate. Synthetic musk, cheap whiskey, latex—” He inhaled at your throat, pupils dilating. “Pollution.”

Jealousy flickered hot behind his eyes—animal, wounded. You swung again; this time your fist connected with cheekbone. Skin split. Blood welled crimson along the ridge. Hannibal’s head snapped sideways, and for a breath the room hung silent except for your ragged breathing.

“You’re angry that I slept with someone else, Hannibal, but that’s actually terror, isn’t it? Terror that I might heal where you branded.”

Blood trickled down the sharp plane of Hannibal’s cheek, sliding to the corner of his mouth like a crimson punctuation. He tasted it—reflex, predator confirming the flavor of his own injury—then fixed you with an unblinking stare. The jealousy you’d stoked blazed into something older and colder: the terror of losing a possession he’d mistaken for immutable.

“You call it a brand,” he said, voice stripped of velvet, “but it is a covenant. And you broke it first.”

His right hand moved—a blur more felt than seen. The backhand caught your jaw, force calibrated to stun without shatter. Pain bloomed white-hot; your knees buckled. The towel’s knot slipped, cotton whispering to the floorboards while he crowded forward, shoes nudging the fallen fabric aside like shed skin.

“Look at you,” Hannibal murmured, fingers pressing the fresh welt at your cheekbone as if verifying his own signature. “Uncovered, unclaimed. Did they see you like this? Did they taste the places that were mine?”

“Maybe I let them,” you spat, vision swimming. “Maybe they left no room for ghosts.”

A growl caught in his throat—nothing polite about it. He grabbed a fistful of your damp hair, tugging until your throat arched. Steam still clung to your skin; goosebumps raced beneath the sudden chill of the room.

“Then I will excise the ghost,” he vowed, mouth brushing the pulse hammering in your neck. Teeth scraped—hard enough to promise bruises, soft enough to make you shiver instead of flinch.

You twisted, driving your elbow into his ribs. He grunted but held on; the clash of bodies drove you both against the dresser. A photo frame toppled and shattered at your feet—splinters glittering like ruined constellations. “You want a covenant?” you hissed, seizing his collar to yank him level. “Bleed for it.”

Hannibal’s answering smile was feral. He surged, momentum pinning you flat to the dresser top. A drawer bit into the small of your back; shattered glass bit your calf. You barely felt it over the wildfire of adrenaline.

He kissed you then—savage, claiming—tongue sweeping the blood from your split lip as if reclaiming stolen territory. You bit back, copper flooding both mouths. His grip tightened, one hand sliding down to palm the curve of your hip, fingertips digging crescents you’d feel for days.

Skin met skin: Hannibal's chest, warm and solid beneath the ruined shirt; your water-beaded torso slick beneath exploring palms. He lifted you effortlessly, turning, dropping you to the mattress where earlier rage had scattered sheets like storm debris. You landed on your back, hair fanning, breath punched out.

“Apologize,” you demanded, half-hoarse. “For Alana, for Chilton, for grinding my life to marrow because it amused you.”

Hannibal knelt between your knees, blood and moonlight painting his face. For a heartbeat he seemed carved from grief. “I am sorry,” he said, voice ragged as torn silk. “Sorry that worship felt like vivisection, that I mistook your endurance for consent, that I gambled your sanity for the symmetry of my design.”

Words alone weren’t enough; he seemed to know it. He bowed over the bruise flowering on your jaw, pressing his lips there—tender, contrite—and then lower, mapping every old scar and fresh abrasion with reverent mouth and blood-warm hands. Where jealousy had struck, apology now lingered, patient, unhurried, until your breath turned to shattered glassless sobs.

Lamplight returned sometime before dawn, revealing the room wrecked—sheets torn, headboard cracked, walls streaked where one or both of you had slammed. You lay half-on his chest, sweat-cooled, muscles singing protest while Hannibal’s fingers combed your hair in slow, penitent passes.

“You’ll have to run again,” you said into the hush. “They’ll trace you here.”

“Let them,” he murmured. “We’ll be gone.”

We. The word coiled around your heart like barbed wire and silk. You propped up on one elbow, studied the man who had ruined and remade you in equal measure. “I haven’t decided if I’m leaving with you, or turning you in.”

“I know.” He touched your swollen lip, feather-light. “But you haven’t asked me to leave.” And you remained silent because he was right. Even if you knew that Hannibal Lecter would always be equal parts sanctuary and snare.

75 notes · View notes