#idk if the first five tags it's still a thing

[beargyu313]

Let’s not do this again .ೃ࿔ *:･

⋆✴︎˚Summary: you’ve known Riki since you were little, but as the years pass they force you apart. You never knew running into him after two years would make you meet the worst version of yourself.

⋆⭒˚.⋆Word count: 13k

CW: This story explores messy, flawed characters—read with caution.

 *ੈ✩‧₊˚Tags: angst with happy ending, smut, childhood friends, brat tamer Niki, subtle degradation, cheating, blackmailing, possessive behavior, sex as retribution, jealousy, angry sex, fluff at the end

જ⁀➴a/n: This was way angstier than I intended idk what happened taglist: @mrsjjongstby

mdni smut ahead, masterlist

You have known Riki your whole life. Being neighbors meant you saw each other often. And all it took to spark a friendship was him sharing his candy with you on a cold September day.

You still remember it, as if it happened yesterday. First day of school, overcast weather, and your chest tight for no real reason.

After school ended you went to the playground. And your younger neighbor was already there. He didn’t understand why you were sad, but he knew he wanted to make you smile again.

He just sat down beside you and placed the wrapped sweet in your hand. Like it was obvious that he wanted to make you feel better. That he would.

After that, it was always just you two. Matching Halloween costumes. Staying up too late on Fridays. Trading secrets. You had other friends, but Riki always came first. He felt like home.

As you two got older, things shifted. But not in a sudden, dramatic way. It was slow. Soft. The kind of change you barely noticed — until one day when you kissed him, and it didn’t feel wrong.

On his 18th birthday, you two had sex for the first time. It wasn’t planned. But it also wasn’t a surprise. That was the thing about you and Riki, everything just sort of happened.

He’d touch your wrist a certain way, and you’d end up in his lap. You’d fight, and then you’d make out in silence.

You weren’t a couple. But you weren’t just friends either.

Then Jungwon came along. Same age as you. Same classes. Smart, kind, charming in the right ways. It made sense to date him. To say yes to something real. Something normal.

So you did.

And for the first time, Riki wasn’t there. He hated it. Tried to act indifferent. Played along at first. But you could feel it. The resentment. The anger. The disbelief that you’d actually leave him behind.

Because here’s the thing… Riki thought you’d pick him. He thought he was your endgame. But you didn’t. And he never forgave you for it.

But you still dream about his mouth sometimes. You still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, especially on cold and foggy days that reminisce the early autumn weather.

And no matter how much time passes… you can’t move on. Even two years later, as you’re getting ready for a party you think about him as you look out at the blinking city lights hugged by the mist and fog.

You hug your bare arms, already wearing the backless ruby dress, matching with Jungwon’s shirt.

He steps out of the bathroom, his blonde hair impeccably styled into fluffy bangs. You force a tight smile as you look over him.

“Ready?” he asks you, holding his hand out.

You take his hand, “almost,” you say, spritzing the final beats of perfume and then you’re leaving.

The party was glamorous. Screaming Park Jongseong. Flashing lights, gold hues dominating the ballroom, at least five different types of wines to choose from, and you think you can even spot a champagne tower through the crowd of people dressed in fancy clothing. You grab onto Jungwon’s hand tighter as he happily leads the two of you to Jongseong. This is why you like Jungwon, he grounds you.

You’re still taking in the room once you reach Jongseong, you exchange greetings, let Jungwon take over the conversation with his lifelong friend, and then it’s like time freezes.

Right across from you, you spot him. Your heart beats harder in your chest as you stare. It can’t be him. Can’t be your Riki. This Riki was taller, broad shoulders, somehow intimidating. Which was weird because the Riki you remember always felt like home.

He still hasn’t noticed you. He was too busy smiling at a girl hanging off of his arm. Unknowingly your jaw clenches at the sight. What was worse even, you knew the girl.

Rei.

Sweet, kind Rei. She and Riki used to be classmates back in middle school. You never would’ve guessed this was Riki’s type. Selfishly you wanted, or hoped, he would chase the ghost of you in every girl he meets.

Same as you did, looking for traces of your Riki no matter where you were.

That’s when he spots you. And you quickly avert your gaze, cheeks burning at your shameful thoughts. You reach for comfort, for Jungwon – still in deep conversation with Jongseong – and he wraps his arm around your waist and you melt. A little. But it’s enough.

That’s when you hear what they’re talking about. And your blood runs cold.

“—still won’t tell anyone what the occasion is,” Jungwon is saying, laughing under his breath. “A little dramatic even for you, don’t you think?”

“Come on,” Jongseong grins, swirling his champagne. “I give you flowers, live music, gold everywhere — and you complain?”

“I’m just saying,” Jungwon tilts his head, “I’ve seen people throw royal galas with less mystery.”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Jongseong smirks. Then like it’s nothing, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a velvet box. Flips it open.

“Oh my god,” you breathe before you can stop yourself.

Inside is a ring. Elegant, shimmering. Oval diamond, flanked by two smaller stones.

Jongseong’s grin widens.

“So you’re—?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “She said yes last week. Tonight’s just the warmup.”

Jungwon lets out a low whistle. “That’s what this whole thing is?”

“Soft launch,” Jongseong winks. “Dinner on Sunday’s the real reveal. Only close friends.”

You nod slowly, still a little stunned. That was the thing about men like Jongseong — everything was glossy, fast, and expensive. Even the life milestones felt like magazine spreads.

He notices your hand still looped through Jungwon’s, and his smirk returns, sharper now.

“What about you two, huh?” he drawls. “Two years and counting, right? When are you putting a ring on it, Mr. Romance?”

You force a laugh. “Don’t start.” And you can feel the bubble of anxiety growing again.

“Seriously,” he nudges Jungwon. “You gonna make her wait for a diamond or what?”

Jungwon chuckles. “I’m pacing myself.”

Jongseong raises a brow. “Yeah? Careful. Someone might steal her first.”

The words land strangely. Too pointed. You’re about to respond, to deflect, tease back but your gaze drifts again.

And across the room, Riki is still in your line of vision.

He looks happy. Or at least, he’s playing the part well. You watch as he leans down, lips brushing Rei’s ear, saying something that makes her giggle before she kisses his cheek. And you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

For the rest of the evening you can feel his eyes on you. You don’t see him look at you, but you know he’s watching you. His presence is like a dark cloud. Following you across the galla no matter where you go.

You can feel yourself getting drunk. Whether it’s on his attention, or the alcohol you don’t know.

Later, maybe an hour in, you see Jongseong cutting through the room, dragging Riki behind him. Jungwon straightens beside you, smile returning.

“Come meet my business savior,” Jongseong announces proudly. “Guy practically rebuilt the whole backend in a week. Couldn’t survive without him.”

Riki stands next to him, hands tucked in his pockets. His hair is a little tousled, jaw sharper than you remember, but he gives the same bored nod he always used to when being praised.

Jongseong gestures between them. “Jungwon, this is Nishimura Riki. Riki, this is my oldest friend in the world.”

Jungwon eyes him curiously, then tilts his head. “Wait... have we met before?”

There’s a beat. A flicker of something passes through Riki’s eyes.

And then, calmly he motions to you and your stomach swoops, “We used to be neighbors.”

Disappointment shoots through you.

“Oh—” Jungwon turns to you. “That’s right. You did say your old neighbor moved back to the city.”

You don’t remember saying that. Maybe you did.

You look between them, nodding softly. “Yeah. We go way back.”

Riki doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t need to.

But then Jongseong is waving over a waiter, and suddenly there are flutes of champagne being passed around, and someone’s asking what everyone’s drinking.

Without thinking, you grab a glass of Hibiki from the tray and hand it to Riki.

You don’t ask if he wants it. You don’t need to.

He takes it without hesitation. A soft hum of thanks.

Then, like nothing’s happened he says, “You still drink brut rosé?”

You blink. You’re holding that exact glass in your hand. Your cheeks warm.

“Guess some things don’t change.”

He smiles at that. Barely. Just a flicker. And still not once do your eyes meet directly.

You’re in a progressively worse mood as the week unfolds. Nothing obvious. Not the kind anyone can name. Not even Jungwon.

You still kiss him goodbye, still laugh when you’re supposed to, still hold his hand in public like it means something.

But your head’s somewhere else. Your body moves through the days like clockwork, while your mind stays circling back to a half-smile and a glass of Hibiki.

You lock the door to your bathroom. Turn on the faucet. Stare at your reflection. You swore you’d be fine. Swore he was the past. But your mascara’s starting to get smudged and your hands won’t stop shaking.

And worst of all you still want him. Not in memory. Not in fantasy. You want him now.

You bite your lip until it bleeds, desperately pushing down your arousal. But your thoughts keep betraying you throughout the week. Little things. Like if he has any new kinks, any new fantasies he wanted to try out. Maybe something Rei doesn’t want to do. But you would. You were always down for whatever he wanted.

An invitation comes a few days after the party. A private dinner hosted by Jongseong’s family. Only close friends and immediate relatives.

You don’t want to go. But Jungwon lights up at the mention.

“I think we should,” he says, smiling. “It’ll be nice. Just family, you know?”

You nod. Smile back. Pretend your stomach doesn’t drop.

The party’s held at a hotel you’ve only seen in magazines. Huge mirrored ceilings, white orchids adorning the room, the kind of ambient lighting that makes everyone look beautiful. Jongseong’s fiancée is radiant, warm in a way that’s clearly rehearsed, but still charming. Her and Jongseong’s parents sit near the head of the table. Jongseong’s sister flirts with a waiter.

You’re seated across from Riki. Of course you are.  You’re seated just barely enough to avoid conversation. Close enough to feel the weight of his stare.

The table is long, candlelit, buzzing with low conversation and vintage jazz from invisible speakers. Jongseong is laughing with his fiancée’s father. Someone makes a toast.

Rei leans into Riki’s side and loops her arm around his, she’s glowing in soft pink. Like a cherry blossom come to life.

You want to bite something.

It’s awkward between you and Riki. Too quiet. Eye contact too fast, too sharp. Every glance feels like a threat.

Rei is talking about something — her job? A skincare line? You’re not listening. You’re watching the way Riki cuts into his steak. The way he drinks water with his left hand. The slight curve of his mouth when Jungwon says something flirty in your ear and you laugh.

Riki doesn’t say a word, doesn’t flirt. But he keeps refilling your glass.

Twice. Three times. Brut rosé, always.

Your leg brushes against his under the table once. He doesn’t move it. You’re not sure if you’re even breathing. The room is suddenly too warm. Or maybe it’s you.

Still the dinner drags.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom.  You don’t expect him to follow. But the moment the door clicks shut, you hear it. Footsteps. Then the quiet lock turning.

His reflection appears behind you in the mirror.

You don’t turn around.

“You looked real domestic tonight,” Riki says, voice low. Flat. Like a dare.

Your breath catches. You grip the sink tighter.

“Still playing house? Even when I’m this close?”

You shake your head once. Not at him but at yourself. At this. You can’t look at him, not when your whole body’s already betraying you. His scent, his closeness… it was too much, too soon. You’re not ready to face him.

“I haven’t said anything,” you whisper. Your skin is flushed, something akin to nervousness (or arousal) building somewhere deep in your tummy.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it?”

He takes a step forward. You feel the heat of him now, not touching, but close enough to scorch. And even though there’s no touching, your body reacts like there is. Like it remembers what his breath feels like against your neck. What his fingers can do.

“You said you moved on. So did I,” he pauses. Smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “But wanna know something funny?”

You don’t answer. You already know it won’t be funny.

He lifts his phone. Swipe. Tap. Holds it just out of view, “Guess what I still watch when I can’t sleep.”

You turn your head just slightly and see it. A flash of movement. Your body. The sound of his name gasped like a prayer.  You flinch like you’ve been slapped. Heat rushes between your thighs. Your stomach sinks, and tightens.

That night. That angle. You know exactly what he’s watching. What you wore. How he looked when he came inside of you.

“Delete it—”

“Why?” His voice is calm. Dangerous, “You think you didn’t want the camera on you that night? You think I didn’t know exactly what that look in your eyes meant?”

You did, still do. You know exactly what he means. You remember the way you looked up at him. Mouth parted, eyes wide, begging without saying a word. You remember how it felt, being watched by him.

You turn to leave back to your boyfriend before you do something stupid. You try to push past him, but he’s already moving. Not blocking you. Just enough to remind you you’ll have to touch him to get out.

His hand grazes your wrist. Not by force, just subtle touch. It lingers like a promise.

Like a warning. You should pull away but your skin tingles from that one brush like it’s been lit on fire.

“You’re still lying,” he says softly, “Just not with your mouth.”

You flinch. Something in you twists — humiliated, exposed, wet. Your body still wants him. But your mind claws for a way out.

You snap your gaze to his, eyes sharp.

“I have to get back to my boyfriend,” you hiss. More bite in your voice than you intended. It echoes against the marble tile like a slap.

His face changes. Barely. A twitch of the mouth. But it’s enough to tell you you hit something raw.

He laughs once, bitter. Low.

“Yeah. That’s always been your line, hasn’t it?”

You blink.

“Run back to Jungwon when it gets too real. Just like before.”

Your jaw tightens. He doesn’t stop.

“You think I didn’t know you were using me? Letting me fuck you like that — whispering my name like I was the only one — and then going home to him?”

“Say it,” he murmurs. “Say you didn’t think about me when he touched you.”

Your breath hitches. His words hit you straight between the thighs… and that’s the worst part. You do still think about him.

And he knows it.

You shove past him this time, physically push the door open and leave before you say something you can’t take back.

You return back to the table, flushed. Your chest is tight as you try to calm your breathing. Jungwon places a hand on your lower back.

You startle. But smile. Too quickly, too rehearsed.

Riki joins the rest of you a moment later, leaning boyishly across his chair. He places an arm around Rei’s shoulder, looking directly at you.

But you don’t give him the reaction he’s looking for. Instead, your hand rests on Jungwon’s thigh and he clasps your fingers together as he tells you about the dessert that’s about to be served.

And as the sky outside turns to black everyone starts slowly leaving the hotel.

You’re in bed when your phone buzzes. Jungwon’s in the shower. You’re half-scrolling, half-asleep.

It’s a screenshot of that same video he was showing you in the bathroom. The photo is blurred. But unmistakably you, pink thong pushed to the side, exposing your wet cunt that’s gushing with Riki’s cum.

He didn’t add any caption.

you’re sick

Is what you type back, knowing exactly who this is from.

u like it.

Is what comes back, a second later. Then, another buzz.

go somewhere you can be alone

 before I send it to your boyfriend

You stare at the messages. But your feet are already moving. You slip onto the balcony, tightly wrapping the black robe around your shoulders. The cold wind cuts through you. You shut the door just as your phone rings.

You don’t hesitate as you pick up.

“I told you to delete it,” you snap. No greeting. No pretense.

A beat of silence passes between you before you hear the crackling on the other side. Was he smoking? Then, his voice cuts through the line, deeper and rougher than you remember him sounding on the phone.

“And you also said you loved me.”

Your breath stutters. You grip the phone tighter.

He exhales, something sharp behind it, “You think I sent that to fuck with you?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, “I sent it because you’re mine. You always have been.”

Your lips part to argue, to say something cold. But nothing comes out. He hears it. The silence. The surrender.

His voice softens, but only slightly.

“Just spend one week with me,” he says. “Like before. No strings. And I’ll delete it for real.”

You laugh, bitter, “And Rei?”

He doesn’t flinch. “Don’t act like you’re any better.”

You stiffen. His voice is sharper now, no softness, “You were still fucking me when you started dating him. Or did you forget that too? Three months of you calling me baby, coming over at midnight, then going to brunch with him the next morning like your mouth wasn’t still swollen.”

Your stomach turns. Shame curls hot under your skin because he’s right. Because he remembers it better than you do. Because you never really stopped. You couldn’t. That’s why you had to leave.

He exhales into the silence slower now. Controlled. Cruel, “So don’t ask me about Rei like you’re innocent. You don’t get to moralize, baby. Not when you let me fuck the lie out of you for months.”

You feel it low in your gut, the feeling building the longer he taunts you. That horrible, aching twist of guilt and arousal, of memory and muscle memory. Like your body remembers every time you swore you’d stop, and every time you came crawling back.

“Does Jungwon know that?” Riki asks, so calm it could kill you. “That when he took you to your first fancy dinner, I was the one you called when you got home?”

Your mouth is dry. Your thighs press together, not because you want to but because your body’s already answering questions you haven’t asked.

“I thought you didn’t care,” you manage. “You’ve moved on.”

“Sure,” he says, too fast. Too sharp. “Me, Rei, we look good, don’t we? That what you wanted to say?”

You don’t reply.

“So why are you breathing hard into the phone right now like you want me to say more?”

You clench your eyes shut, grip the phone harder. You want to throw it. You want to drop it. You want to crawl through it. Anything to make it stop. To don’t’ make it stop.

“You kept that video,” you whisper.

“I did,” he confirms, without apology. “Watched it last week. And last month. And again the night before your anniversary.”

You gasp softly, shoulders curling inward. Shame coats your skin, thick and electric. But there’s no denying it anymore. You like his obsession with you. The confirmation that he was just as bad as you were was weirdly soothing.

“I told you not to make it so pretty,” he murmurs. “You think I was just gonna delete that?”

“You’re sick,” you say, but it comes out breathier and whinier than you intend.

“You liked it,” he says. And then, softer he adds, “And I know you still do.”

Your hand trembles. You press your fingers to your lips to quiet yourself, to swallow whatever sound might escape. You slide a finger down to your panties. Pressing down on your clit. You don’t move your fingers though, gaslighting yourself that this is okay. That you’re not about to masturbate while Riki’s taunting you with his deep voice and cruel words.

He lowers his voice. It’s barely a whisper now. “You’re still mine, even if you won’t say it.”

You feel your pulse stutter. There’s something dangerous about the quiet in his tone — not violent, not even angry. Just… sure. Like he’s not trying to convince you. Like he knows you’ll say yes. Eventually.

You press the phone harder against your cheek.

“I have a boyfriend.”

He lets that sit. Lets it rot.

“And I had you,” he says finally. “Every fucking version of you. Not just the good parts.”

You think about Jungwon’s hand on your lower back. How light it felt. Safe. Soft.

But it’s not what you ache for now.

“Where?” you whisper decisively.

A pause. And then, with brutal precision he answers – as if he’s thought it all out, “Hotel Majestic, on the top floor. Friday. Wear whatever you want, but no underwear.”

The line clicks dead.

And you’re left out in the cold, wind wisping hair all over your face. You sneak back into the warm bedroom and luckily Jungwon was still in some other part of the penthouse.

Throughout Monday and Tuesday you’re trying to stay composed. You’re soft-spoken, polite, and polished. You hold Jungwon’s hand a little tighter in public. Smile a little sweeter. Your makeup is perfect, your outfits more carefully curated than ever. You’re performing the role of the good girlfriend with a new level of desperate conviction.

But once you’re alone, you spiral. You can’t stop replaying the phone call in your mind over and over again. You’re easily startled. You zone out. You can’t stop anticipating and imagining Friday — his hands, his mouth, his voice.

He texts you on a Tuesday evening.

You’d stayed late at the office — some intern mixed up a calendar invite and your boss chewed through the whole team like wet paper. Your brain feels like it’s in a mush. You’re half-dressed out of your blazer, collar loose, wine-stained lipstick smudged, when your phone buzzes on the desk.

You glance over. Coupang Eats. You’d saved him under that name to avoid raising suspicion. Your stomach knots, low and sharp.

You unlock the screen. The message is already waiting.

Coupang Eats: u gonna wear white on friday

Your throat tightens. He doesn’t even say hello.

You: You don’t get to ask that.

Coupang Eats: didn’t think u’d answer didn’t think u’d say yes either

You: It’s just sex. That’s what you said, right?

Coupang Eats: sure. keep saying it if it helps

You stare at the text box. Thumbs hovering. You type ‘Don’t text me again’. But then you delete it.

You don’t send anything.

So he does.

Coupang Eats: u’ll be thinking about me either way might as well give you something real to touch yourself to

You turn your phone over and chuck it across the room.

The next day you’re jittery. Checking your – now cracked – phone over and over again. But he doesn’t text you. You don’t know if you’re happy or disappointed by that as you lay in bed next to Jungwon, staring at the ceiling. He’s warm. He always is. One arm thrown across your waist like you’re something precious. Like you’re not betraying him the longer this goes on.

And still, your legs are clenched tight together. Your breath uneven.

You check your phone again, around 3 a.m.

Nothing.

The next day you try distracting yourself. You fold laundry. Light a candle. Then give up pretending you’re not waiting. Your phone buzzes at exactly 11:04 p.m.

Coupang Eats: still thinking about the video?

Your stomach flips. You hate him. You hate him for knowing. You hate him for being right.

You: How long have you had the video?

Coupang Eats: long enough.

You: Why?

Coupang Eats: I like watching you when I miss you.

There's a pause. Long. You try not to breathe. But he’s typing again.

Coupang Eats: you miss me?

You: You’re disgusting.

Coupang Eats: and you’re wet, quit stating the obvious

You clench your jaw. You throw your phone across the bed like it burned you. But when you crawl after it again — your hand doesn’t go to the keyboard. Instead you open the gallery and click play on the video.

Your hand snakes between your legs. Just like Riki said it would.

You probably touched yourself more than you did when you were a teenager this week. And each time, you hated yourself for it. You’re consumed. It feels like Riki owns you. Again. You're ashamed that you still want him. It’s humiliating. And what’s worse, it turns you on.

On Friday Jungwon comes home with takeout and a new bottle of red. You’re pacing around the room, white dress on when you hear the front door open.

You greet him by the door, always the perfect girlfriend and he kisses your cheek, leaves his coat on the stand, and hums something low as he sets the table for you two.

Two plates, two candles, and the playlist you made him months ago still queued up from some night before. He lights the candles without asking. Like being with you has made him softer in all the right places.

“Surprise date night?” you ask, trying to sound playful. As if you’re not lowkey trying to rush out the door.

“You’ve been quiet this week,” he murmurs, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “I missed you.”

The words land in your chest like a bruise.

You pour the wine. Try not to shake. Try to smile. It’s real — the affection. But it feels like you’re loving him with your hands tied behind your back.

“Since when do you pour for me?” he laughs, eyes warm and teasing.

You smile, small. “You’ve had a long week.”

He hums. “You’re so good to me.”

Your stomach coils. Guilt, maybe. Or something worse — the part of you that wants to ruin it all.

He kisses your temple. “You’re gonna make an amazing wife one day.”

The glass nearly slips from your hand.

You don’t respond. Just press your face into his shoulder and nod like you believe it. Like that’s the version of yourself you want to be.

He doesn't notice. He leans in, kissing your jaw, his voice warm and low against your skin. “You look so pretty. Is that the dress I bought you?”

You nod. He beams like you just gave him a gift. You press your lips to his. Slow. Familiar. Gentle. But your head is somewhere else entirely.

The first message from Riki comes just as Jungwon is plating dinner.

Coupang Eats: tick tock.

You ignore it.

Jungwon sets your plate in front of you. Sits. Laughs about something his coworker said. Eats with one hand while he reaches for yours with the other. You let him hold it. Let him squeeze. Let yourself pretend this is enough. You don’t check your phone again until he leaves to get another wine bottle.

Coupang Eats don’t keep me waiting. again.

Your heart stutters. Then starts racing.

You: He’s almost asleep.

Read.

Coupang Eats: aww. such a sweet girlfriend want me to call? help tuck him in?

You bite the inside of your cheek. Hard.

He’s baiting you. Of course he is. And you hate that it’s working.

You: Shut up.

Coupang Eats: did he kiss you goodnight? did you kiss him back thinking about me?

You clench your thighs together. It’s not fair. It’s never been fair. And worst of all he knows it.

Jungwon comes back in a t-shirt and sweats, smelling like mint and dryer sheets. He drapes an arm around you on the couch, nuzzles into your neck.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles. “I love this.”

His fingers trace circles on your thigh. Not sexual just sweet. Just his. His version of forever. You feel him relaxing next to you. Melting into the couch as his breath evens out.

You leave a blanket on the couch. Place a kiss on his forehead so soft he doesn’t stir. The guilt is loud in your ears, but not louder than the pull. Your phone buzzes again in your coat pocket.

Coupang Eats: wear white.

And you already are. Because it’s not about being good anymore. It’s about seeing if he still burns.

You drive in silence. Not because you want to but because any music might make it real. The roads blur. Your hands grip the wheel tighter than they should. Every red light feels like a warning.

Jungwon’s scent is still on your clothes. Your lips still taste like the kiss you left on his forehead. And under all of it, you’re wet. You hate yourself for it. You hate how easy it is.

Your turn signal clicks. You’re five minutes away.

Your phone buzzes again in the passenger seat. You don’t even look. You already know who it is. You already know what you’re about to do.

The hotel hallway reeks of too much cologne and carpet cleaner. Room 912. You hesitate once, then knock.

The door swings open fast. Like he was already standing behind it.

He doesn’t speak.

You’re not sure who moves first, maybe him. But suddenly, you’re inside, your back against the door, his mouth inches from yours.

His voice is low, rough. “You wore white.”

You almost say for you. But you don’t. Because that would be too honest. Riki doesn’t care to wait for your answer. His big hands are on you as soon as the door locks.

"You missed this?" he gruffly asks, pinching your nipple through the dress as his hips grind against yours.

"I missed being treated like shit? No, thanks," you bite. But your body betrays you, chest pushed out, legs spreading to allow him access.

Riki's grip on your waist tightens, his hands find the curve of your ass. He hikes the short dress higher, exposing your ass.

His mouth is by your ear when he speaks, and you have to fight the urge to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

"Funny. Your pussy says otherwise," he lowly says, fingers prodding by your clothed wet entrance.

You clench around nothing, groaning in what you hope Riki thinks is annoyance.

He doesn’t.

He roughly turns you around and wraps his hand around your throat. Just enough to make your mind go numb, enough so your knees tremble.

Your hands are pressed against the door, as Riki pulls your hips back. He has you awkwardly half-way bent as he bunches your dress around your waist. Expertly tucking and folding it in so it doesn’t slide down.

He harshly spanks you and you moan at the contact.

“Stand still, take what you came for,” he gruffly tells you.

“I didn’t come for you,” you spit out, moaning as he lands another fat spank on your ass. You feel it jiggle at the harsh contact.

"No? Then why are you shaking?"

You don’t reply. You can’t, not when his hands slide up your back sensually. He’s pulling you back against his body and you let him.

Riki wraps his arms around you and guides you towards the bed.

He doesn’t let you lay down. Gripping your hips when you reach the edge of the bed and pushing your head forward.

Doggy. Of course. That was always his favorite way to have you. He finds your lacy panties, slowly slipping them down.

"You still wear lace for me, huh? Or is this what you wear when you’re playing house with him, too?"

"Don’t flatter yourself," you tell him, refusing to feed his ego. But you can feel your pussy gushing, the substance dripping past your lips, making your thighs sticky.

"Why not? I’m the reason your thighs are shaking right now," he whispers as he hovers by your neck.

"Fuck you," you hiss as you bite down on your lip.

"You will. But not yet," he tells you, his hands on your ass. You feel him press his hips into you and glance over your shoulders.

He was still dressed and that only made you even more turned on. Oversized gray tee, black chrome hearts boxers.

Riki hisses as he lets your pussy stain his boxers. You feel him twitch as he humps you once, twice, three times.

Then he slips two fingers past your mouth. His larger frame allowing him to do so from behind. "Every time you lie to me, I’ll make you gag on the truth."

“Shuck yoh,”

Fuck you is what you mean to say but it comes out muffled with his fingers pressing down on your tongue. He has them in so deep you can’t even swallow, saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth.

But Riki only presses closer, his other hand traveling to your clit.

"You already did. That’s the problem."

He starts playing with your pussy then. Just the way you like, and each time you moan, the fingers in your mouth pull back a bit.

"You looked real proud, playing perfect girlfriend. Walking around like you’re innocent."

"I am innocent," you complain and Riki immediately slides his fingers deeper into your warm and wet mouth.

"Not after tonight. You came to this hotel just for me.”

"I had to. You said you’d delete the video if I did."

“Oh sweetie,” he mocks you, “you and I both know you’d be coming regardless of the video.”

That when he pushes you fully on the bed. He flips you around so you’re laying on your back.

He positions himself between your thighs, gaze locked on your glistening cunt.

You move up on your elbows as you watch him watch you. His eyes flick to yours as he pushes past your entrance.

He shows you no mercy as he immediately pushes two digits deep into you.

"Slower— I haven’t—" you gasp, back arching off the bed.

"You haven’t been properly fucked. That’s what you meant, right?" he darkly mocks you. But you see the ghost of smirk on his handsome face.

"Riki—" you whine, trashing on the bed as he roughly pushes in and out of your wet pussy. Loud moans and squelching noise fill the otherwise quiet hotel room and you really hope it’s soundproof.

But Riki is merciless, almost cruel as he taunt you, "No one else gets you wet like this. Say it."

"No one," you quietly gasp, gripping onto his hair as he presses a wet kiss on your clit. His tongue swirls and sucks on it, just enough to make your mind spin. He pulls back with a popping sound.

Your breath hitches when he says it—

“That’s my good girl.” Like he’s been waiting to say it. Like he knew you’d earn it eventually.

Your eyes drag up, greedy, as he pulls his shirt over his head. The muscles. The sharp cut of his waist. And then the tattoo—dark, bold ink sprawled across his side, crawling up his ribs like a warning.

You stare. Maybe a little too long.

“You like that?” he smirks, thumbs hooking under his waistband. “Thought about this when you were with him?”

You say nothing. But he sees the way your thighs press together. The way your lips part when he drops his boxers and steps toward you, cock hard and already leaking.

You swallow. And nod. Just once. Honest, finally.

He smiles, cruel and slow.

“Of course you did,” he says, voice low as he crawls on top of you. “Bet you fucked him with this image in your head.”

You’re trembling now. Not from fear. From the weight of it — the ache, the guilt, the unbearable want. His tattoo is right there, close enough to touch, and your hands rise almost instinctively, splaying across his inked ribs. He’s warm. Solid. Real.

“Say it,” he murmurs, bending slightly, his mouth ghosting over your jaw. “Tell me you thought about me.”

You exhale shakily. “I… did.”

He hums, pleased. His hand slides to your neck, the other gripping your thigh, forcing it open.

“And now you get to have me. Just like this. Just like you wanted.”

You don’t say anything. Can’t. Because the truth is lodged in your throat — hot and humiliating and dangerous.

He leans in until his lips brush your ear.

“Good girls shouldn’t lie,” he says. “And you’ve been lying for so long. Would love to punish you, but some other day. Need you too badly right now.”

Then, Riki is on you. Body on yours, lips on your neck.

He growls ever so slightly as he grips his dick and positions it close to your pussy.

“Been waiting for this, for so long,” he softly mutters and then he’s slipping in.

He was way girthier than you remember, the stretch pleasurably painful and you claw at his back. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist.

Riki continues pushing in, slowly stretching your cunt with his big dick.

"God— I forgot—" you whine in a strained voice. 

"No, you didn’t. You pretended to forget. Just like you pretended he was enough," he replies through gritted teeth.

"Stop talking about him," you whine, lips brushing against his shoulder.

"Why? You’re dripping around my cock while he’s asleep thinking you’re loyal," he mocks as he sheaths his dick fully into you.

You cry out at both the pleasure and his cruel words, "You’re a fucking monster."

He pins your wrists to the bed when you press your nails into his back. Harshly. His other hand goes to your throat, squeezing you in silent warning.

"Yeah? And you let the monster ruin you every time," he taunts you, his hands move to your legs – still wrapped around his waist – and he adjusts your position so they’re resting on his shoulders.

You’re folded like a pretzel, left to his mercy. And Riki knows it too.

He smiles down at you as if he won a prize and then he starts fucking you. His thrusts are intense. Deep and unrelenting as the fucks you as if he’s punishing you. He is.

Your sounds are a mix of gasps, whimpers and moans, “Please—Riki, please—”

“Yeah? This how you wanted to get fucked? To be ruined?”

But he softens just a bit, slowing down ever so slightly, “You miss how I break you open, don’t lie.”

He’s softer. But not sweet. His thrusts fueled by the betrayal, the jealousy, the ache. This is sex punishment for leaving.

And you understand that this is him establishing control. So you let him, hips tilting up to meet his rhythm, hands fisting in the sheets instead of pushing him away, your body falling into obedience before your mind can catch up.

And it’s only when he sees you break, after your moans start to sound like sobs — that his mouth lowers to your throat, planting a gentle kiss. Then another on the inside of your knee, a subtle crack in the armor. Always a reward.

“I always knew you’d come back like this,” he breathes into your neck, his voice a low growl. “Opened up. Begging.”

He slows down then. Just enough to make you feel him in a different way, the angle almost brutal. He stays deep inside of you and leans down so your foreheads nearly touch. Not kissing. Just staring.

“You think he can make you feel like this? Tell me who owns this pussy. Say it.”

And you do. Pleasure swirls in all parts of your body, you don’t even register the building ache in your thighs.

You’re nearly crying, choked "Harder— please, I want—"

"Want what? Say it," he tells you, nuzzling into your neck.

"I want you to ruin me."

"Already have," he growls, and then his hand finds your small clit. Peeking through the gap between you two.

He rubs you, not to fast, not too slow – but just right. You lock in place, the pleasure of his fat cock entering you, stretching you open and his big hands playing with your cunt too much.

"I c-can’t— Riki— it’s too—" you beg.

"You’ll take it. You owe me this."

"Please— I’m gonna—"

"Cum for me. Prove it still belongs to me," his voice is strained as he speaks. He can feel your tight cunt squeezing impossibly tighter around his dick and he groans when he hears your breathy voice.

"Yours— yours— fuck, I’m—" you say, trembling and not breathing momentarily as you cum.

You’re still trembling when he pulls out. Riki fists his cock, teeth clenched, eyes locked on you as he cums hard, messy, all over your bare skin like a claim.

Neither of you speaks.

For a moment, the only sound is your broken breathing, shallow, trying to come down. You reach blindly for something, maybe a sheet, maybe him and feel the mattress shift under his weight.

He doesn’t hold you. Not fully. He doesn’t even look at you as he tosses you a towel and lies back beside you, chest rising and falling.

But when you move closer, he doesn’t stop you. Your head finds his chest, and he stays still. Heart pounding beneath your cheek.

You close your eyes.

Silence stretches.

Then, just as your fingers start to relax against his ribs, you hear his voice low and steady, dangerous.

“You left me once.” A pause. “You won’t get another chance.”

You lay there for a moment longer, catching your breath on his chest. He still hasn’t touched you, not really. He’s just letting you cling onto him.

You speak first. “I should go.” Your voice is quiet. Calculated. You don’t look at him.

Riki doesn’t move. “Obviously.”

You sit up. Wipe the mess from your stomach. Slip your dress back on, not bothering to fix your hair. You’re still flushed. Still swollen where he broke you open. But your voice? Steady. Controlled.

“I live with him,” you say, reaching for your phone. “I can’t be gone all night. He’ll wake up.”

You expect silence. Maybe something cruel.

Instead, Riki laughs, it’s short. Bitter, “You think I give a fuck about Jungwon?”

You turn, fixing your earring in the mirror. “You did this whole thing because of Jungwon.”

He sits up now, elbows on his knees. His stare cuts through your reflection.

“No. I did this because you pretended you were over me.” He stands, walks up behind you, not touching. Just close enough. “And you’re not.”

You hate how your knees almost give.

You snap the clasp on your purse shut. “I never said I was.”

He steps in closer. “So stay.”

You swallow. “I can’t.”

Riki’s jaw ticks. Something in his eyes dims. “Right. Because you’re such a good girl now.”

You don’t flinch, but your heart does, “Better than I was with you.”

It lands. It hurts him. But he doesn’t stop you when you reach for the door.

You pause before leaving. Glance back once.

He’s watching you with that look again, the one that never says what he wants, only what he can’t admit.

“Text me when you get home,” he mutters. “So I know you didn’t crash or something.”

You stare, “You’re not my boyfriend.”

“No,” he calmly says. “I'm not, but you're still going to text me.”

You don’t respond. Just close the door behind you. But you don’t stop shaking until you’re halfway back home.

You wake up sore the next morning. The ache in your hips is slow and low and everywhere. Your body remembers before your mind does.

You're curled against Jungwon’s warm and familiar chest and his hand rubs soothing circles on your back.

“Don’t feel good today, Wonnie,” you mumble, barely above a whisper.

He presses a kiss to your temple. You flinch. Not enough for him to notice. But you feel it. The echo of Riki's mouth, rougher, crueler… it still burns under your skin.

Jungwon hums, his voice soft with concern, “You were tossing around a lot last night,” he says. His fingers trail down your spine. “I’ll make you tea. Go shower, baby.”

You do. Twice.

The water is hot enough to scald. But it’s not enough. You scrub behind your ears. Between your thighs. Inside your bellybutton. There’s still something on you. In you. His scent. His breath. The way he said mine like it was a curse and a promise.

You check your phone with wet fingers. One new message. A photo.

Riki’s hand, ringed and veined, fisted around something delicate and pale. Your panties. Twisted in his palm like a trophy.

Coupang Eats: forgot these.

You close your eyes. You bite your lip. And you save the photo.

And when you meet at night his mouth is everywhere, teeth against your thigh. His voice dark and amused, whispering to you what he’ll do next time.

This time, after you are done, you make sure to stuff your ruined panties into your coat pocket as you’re leaving.

On Sunday he simply texts you “come outside in 15” and you do. You slip out just as Jungwon get’s on a business call coming from overseas. You mumble something about needing air. He kisses your cheek without looking and you’re already halfway out the door.

Riki’s car is parked at the edge of the driveway. Engine low. Window down. He doesn’t say a word as you slip into the passenger seat. The smell hits you first — leather, smoke, cologne that clings to your skin even when he's gone. His eyes drag over you like he’s checking for damage.

You don’t greet him. Just say, “What if Jungwon finds out?”

He laughs, sharp and short. “You’re not worried about that,” he mutters, not even looking at you.

“I am,” you snap. “This is insane. We shouldn’t—”

But his hand is already moving, low between your thighs, and your body betrays you instantly. You flinch, it’s not from fear but from how fast your pulse spikes when he touches you like that. Like he’s entitled to it.

You climb into his lap anyway.

It’s cramped. Messy. Windows fog too fast, too loud, and you're fucking him in the front seat with your skirt bunched around your hips. Your back hits the steering wheel. He doesn’t care. Neither do you.

You tell him to be quick but the moment he’s inside you, time fractures. He grips your waist like a lifeline. You ride him like you’re drowning.

There’s no music. No words. Just breath and skin and the wet slap of your bodies colliding in the dark. You bury your face in his shoulder and his hands slide up your back like he’s remembering every inch of you.

Oddly, it feels romantic. Not soft. Not safe. But intimate in the way only ruin ever is.

He finishes with his mouth on you, not your lips — no kiss. Not yet. That would mean something.

When he pulls back, his eyes are still half-lidded, gaze fixed on you like you’re something carved out of sin. Your heart’s pounding in your ears. Your thighs are shaking.

You reach for your coat silently. Pull it around you like a shield.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, “don’t wear anything. Saves us both the time.”

You slam the car door harder than necessary.

The next day you’re halfway through lunch with Jungwon when your phone buzzes on the table. You glance at it absently, thinking it’s work—until you see her name.

Rei: I’ve been thinking! Maybe we do a little double date? It’s been forever! 🥹 I think Riki’s been down ever since he saw you again. I wanna patch you guys up 😭💗

You choke slightly on your iced coffee.

Jungwon looks up from his plate, concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, setting the drink down and wiping your mouth. You try to play it cool, but your fingers tighten slightly around the phone.

He squints, playful. “Who is it?”

You hesitate. Just a beat. Then force your best smile. “Rei. She wants to set up a double date. Us and her… and Riki.”

Jungwon’s brows lift. “Really?” He seems genuinely surprised, but not suspicious. Just thoughtful. “That’s kind of sweet of her.”

“Yeah,” you lie. “It really is.”

You feel his foot graze yours under the table. “I’d be down,” he says with a grin. “Maybe you two can finally patch things up.”

Your stomach coils. Not from guilt. From the irony of it all. Rei wanting to help. Jungwon wanting to trust. You’re smiling through your teeth like you’re not already branded head to toe in Riki’s touch.

You: Totally! Would be fun.

Rei: He needs this. He won’t say it but I can tell 🥺

You turn your screen off.

You haven’t even seen Riki today, and still it feels like his hands are all over you. The rest of the day stretches, thick and frustrating. No texts. No missed calls. Not even a sign.

You go home with Jungwon. Let him kiss your cheek. Let him laugh against your neck. Let him touch your waist with hands that don’t know better.

You wait. All day.

You shower. You try not to think about the marks on your skin, the ache between your thighs that never really left. You try not to check your phone every ten minutes.

By nightfall, you’re pacing.

Finally, just before midnight, your phone lights up.

Coupang Eats: rei’s breathing down my neck. can’t today.

That’s it.

No “hi.” No apology. Just dismissal dressed like explanation.

You don’t reply. You leave it on seen. You throw your phone on the nighstand and crawl into bed. You hate that it hurts. You hate that it hurts because you miss him.

You curl up, blanket pulled to your chin, and close your eyes like that’ll stop the heat from spreading low and slow inside you.

You don’t expect another text.

But at 1:13 a.m., your phone buzzes again. You grab it with more desperation than you mean to.

Coupang Eats: but ive been thinking about you the whole day

There’s a slight pause, and then he’s double texting you.

Coupang Eats: think rei’s starting to catch on. she asked if i’ve been seeing someone else

Another pause. You keep leaving his messages on seen.

Coupang Eats: anyway. i want your mouth tomorrow

You stare at the screen. Your body flushes instantly, pulse skipping. He always knows what to say to wreck you.

You read it again. And again.

Your thighs clench under the blanket. You should block him. You should throw the phone across the room. Instead, you place it gently on your nightstand. And smile, just a little. You never stood a chance.

Tuesday he’s ignoring you. Again.

You try to stay rational. You tell yourself it’s because of Rei. Because of guilt. Because of everything this already is. But that doesn’t explain why your chest tightens every time your phone buzzes — and it’s not him.

You last until midnight. You’re curled under your blanket, half-dreaming, half-angry, when your screen lights up.

Incoming Call: Coupang Eats

You step into the hallway and gently close the door so you don’t wake Jungwon. Then you answer without a word.

Silence on the other end. Not awkward. Not hesitant. Just… breath. Slow and steady.

“Riki?” you whisper.

Still nothing.

Your voice sharpens. “What’s wrong?”

Another breath. Then finally, his voice — low, worn, unsweet.

“You’re mad.”

You scoff. “You think?”

You can’t help the raising of your voice, “I waited all day for you yesterday. I sat next to him thinking about you, and you haven’t even—” You catch yourself. Bite down the whine in your voice. “—you haven’t said anything. Not even a text.”

“I’m not here to make love to you. You have someone for that,” he says, flat and final.

You flinch. Like he slapped you through the phone. Your throat tightens. You wait for him to say something else.

He doesn’t.

You end the call first.

You stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your chest like it might keep your heart inside your body. But it doesn't help. Not even a little.

Sleep doesn’t come easy. You toss and turn so much that Jungwon at some point bear hugs you and keeps you close to his warm body. And finally you’re able to relax enough to let sleep overtake you.

The double date is happening late afternoon today. You don’t mention the call — not to Jungwon, not to yourself. You just get dressed. Not in red because that’s too obvious. But soft. Romantic. A pink silk dress that hugs your waist and slips off your shoulders with every movement. The kind of dress that would make someone believe you’re innocent. That you belong to someone.

The date is happening in a cute, but luxorious sweet shop. The café is a pastel-hued dream. Soft pink walls, delicate white lace curtains, and dainty gold accents catching the light. Glass display cases are lined with perfectly frosted cupcakes. Vintage floral teacups clink softly against saucers, and gentle indie music hums in the background, mixing with the faint chatter of quiet patrons.

Rei and Riki are already sitting down by the window overlooking the entrance. Your heart squeezes when you see him. He’s dressed in a crisp, black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the lean muscle of his forearms. A subtle flash of silver chain is glinting around his neck. His shirt is tucked neatly into tailored charcoal trousers, sleek and effortless, like he stepped straight out of a midnight city skyline.

You make sure Riki sees you walk in first. With Jungwon’s arm around your waist, smiling up at him like you mean it.

Rei waves you over. She’s sipping on her drink, other hand on his thigh like she owns it. You slide into your seat across from them, perfectly poised.

Jungwon orders for you, as always. You rest your chin on your hand and glance at Riki just long enough to make it look casual.

He won’t look at you.

Not at first.

But you can see the tension in his jaw. The white of his knuckles on his water glass. He’s trying not to react.

Good.

Rei watches you. Not warmly. She senses something — can’t name it, but it’s there. Then she blurts, “Didn’t you two used to be, like, inseparable?”

Her tone is off. Maybe playful. Maybe not.

“That was a long time ago,” Riki speaks.

You shrug, smile too sweet. “We were kids.”

You don’t look at him.

Jungwon laughs, reaching for your hand. “Didn’t you say you had a crush on him in high school?”

Your stomach tightens. You throw your head back and laugh, “God, don’t remind me.”

This time, Riki looks at you. Dead on.

Then, slowly, his hand drops to Rei’s thigh. He leans closer to her and murmurs something — something that makes her smile and adjust her grip on his bicep.

You almost break. But you don’t. Instead, you slide your hand under the table and rest it on Jungwon’s knee. Riki’s gaze drops. Then sharpens. You can feel it burning through your skin.

Jungwon starts telling a story to break the tension — something light about his boss messing up an email thread. You fake-laugh, brushing your hand along his forearm.

Still nothing from Riki.

So you go further.

You lean into Jungwon’s ear. Whisper something that makes him grin and kiss your cheek. You giggle and sip your coffee, letting your lips linger on the mug.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

You glance down.

Coupang Eats: Stop fucking smiling at him like you’re not going to be on your knees for me in 2 hours.

You excuse yourself. A moment later, in front of the bathroom stalls, you hear footsteps. You don’t turn around.

“So that’s how we’re playing it?” you murmur.

Riki doesn’t answer.

“She’s clinging to your arm like a trophy and you’re looking at me like you want to kill something.”

Still nothing.

You turn. Face him. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tight, breathing slow and shallow.

“She asked about us,” you say. “You really gonna sit there and pretend we were nothing?”

His eyes narrow. “You’re the one pretending.”

You raise a brow. “I’m just being polite.”

Riki steps closer. Still calm. Still composed. But you know the signs… the way his jaw clicks, the twitch in his brow. He’s unraveling slowly.

“You smile at him like he’s enough,” he says quietly. “But I know what you look like when you’re lying.”

You look up, but Riki’s already turned back toward the tables.

And you follow.

Because you always do.

You return to the table with Riki just a few paces behind, the silence of the hallway still clinging to your skin. Jungwon glances up from his cappuccino, expression tightening. Rei’s head tilts ever so slightly, like she’s trying to catch a whisper she just missed.

“Everything okay?” Jungwon asks, voice easy, but his hand slips off the back of your chair like he’s not sure if he should still be touching you.

You nod too quickly. “Just—long line.”

“Hmm.” His eyes stay on you for a beat too long. You know he doesn’t believe you, but he smiles anyway.

Rei's stirring her iced latte with her straw, the clink of ice loud in the delicate atmosphere of the café. The scent of vanilla and buttercream hangs in the air. Around you, couples laugh softly, forks clinking against pastel plates.

But at your table, the energy has shifted.

You take your seat, careful not to brush against Riki’s knee under the table. You don’t want to give anything away… except maybe in this moment you do. Maybe you want to be caught.

Jungwon reaches for the last macaron, brushing a crumb from your plate as he does. “Try this one, it’s raspberry.” His voice is soft. Familiar. And it makes you ache.

But before you can answer, Riki’s voice cuts in, sharp around the edges. “She doesn’t like raspberry.”

The table stills.

You freeze mid-reach.

Rei blinks. “Oh?”

You force a laugh. “I guess I… grew out of that.”

Jungwon sets the macaron down slowly. “Right,” he says, like he's trying to convince himself.

The tension spirals, thick and sticky as frosting. You try to redirect, compliment the café wallpaper, anything to smooth it over. But Rei’s already watching Riki too closely now. Her fingers trace the edge of her water glass. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“So,” she starts, “you guys been seeing each other lately?” She phrases it light, like it’s casual. But her eyes are too sharp, scanning you both.

You smile like you’ve practiced it. “Not really. We ran into each other a couple of days ago. Unexpectedly.”

Riki doesn’t say anything. He’s staring down at his coffee like it personally offended him.

Rei hums, glancing between you again. “Weird. Riki never mentioned it.”

You sip your drink to avoid answering. It tastes like syrup and guilt.

Jungwon shifts beside you. He’s been quiet too long. Observing. Calculating. He reaches for your hand under the table—and you flinch. Just slightly. Just enough.

You see the flicker in his eyes. Something cold, unsure, tightening his jaw before he lets go.

Riki’s chair scrapes softly as he leans back. He stretches one arm behind Rei’s chair. It’s casual. Possessive. Performed. But when your eyes flick to him, he’s already watching you. And he doesn’t look away.

The silence stretches too long.

You glance at the time. Not late, but suddenly, it feels like you've been here too long.

Jungwon clears his throat softly. “We should probably get going. You have work early, don’t you?”

It’s a neutral out. A subtle offering. But the edge in his tone is unmistakable.

You nod too quickly. “Right. Yeah.”

You stand, smoothing the hem of your dress. Across the table, Riki doesn’t move. Rei offers a tight smile as she pushes her hair behind her ear, eyes flicking between you and Riki again.

“You two heading out too?” Jungwon asks, polite.

Rei shakes her head, “I think we’ll stay a bit. Riki’s sweet tooth hasn’t kicked in yet.” She laughs, light but forced. Riki doesn’t even blink.

Jungwon places a warm hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the door.

You don’t look back.

But still in the café, as you and Jungwon are leaving Rei watches Riki pick at a dessert he’s not even eating.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” she asks.

Riki shrugs. Doesn’t look at her.

“You couldn’t fake it for two hours?” she says, still trying to keep it light, but her voice is breaking at the edges.

He doesn’t respond.

She swallows. “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

Still nothing.

Rei sits back, blinking fast.

“I hope she’s worth ruining everything.”

In the car you and Jungwon are barely halfway down the block before he speaks.

“You don’t like raspberry,” he says. Quiet. Not accusing. Just… unraveling the thread.

You stare out the window.

He doesn’t push. Not yet. He just lets the silence sit between you both, letting you feel the weight of it.

And when he parks the car outside his and yours penthouse, his voice drops lower.

“How long has this been going on?”

You blink. “What?”

He turns to look at you. Not angry. But hurt. And that’s worse. Way worse. You never meant to hurt him. You were just too blindsided by Riki. Like you always are. Everything is always too much with him. Too colorful, too loud, he makes you too ha-…

“Whatever this is between you and Riki,” he says. “You think I can’t feel it?”

You open your mouth. Then close it again.

He nods, jaw clenched. “I didn’t want to be right.”

You don’t say anything. Not because there’s nothing to say but because anything you could say would sound cruel. Or worse, dishonest. And you’ve lied enough.

The penthouse is quiet when you step inside. Not soft quiet — hollow. Like all the warmth Jungwon tried to build with you has finally leaked through the cracks. You trail in behind him, your eyes skimming over the small signs of his care… the flowers he replaced just this morning. The charger he keeps plugged in for your phone. The pink cupcakes you like in the fridge, even though he doesn’t eat sweets.

You should feel something. But you only feel heavy.

You sit on the edge of the bed. Your dress folds gently at your thighs. The same dress you wore to hurt someone. Or maybe yourself. You can’t tell anymore. Somewhere between the fucking, something in you blurred.

Across the room, Jungwon doesn’t move. He stands like he wants to ask for something, an explanation, an apology — but knows he won’t like the answer.

And maybe the worst part is… you wish he would yell. Or cry. Slam a door, something. But Jungwon is still himself, still his calm self and it only makes you feel messier. Uglier.

Your phone buzzes.

Coupang Eats: We should talk.

You lock it. Set it face-down on the nightstand.

Coupang Eats: Whenever you're ready.

Your hands shake slightly as you unzip the weekender bag. You don’t pack much. Just what you need. You tell yourself you’ll come back. That it’s not permanent. You lie to yourself the way you always have. Softly, sweetly.

You glance toward Jungwon once more. He hasn’t moved from his office. His back is to you now, one hand gripping the edge of the desk like he’s trying to ground himself.

You want to go to him. Say sorry. Say something. But you don’t know how to comfort someone while still choosing someone else.

So instead, you whisper “I’m staying at a hotel. Just for a while.”

He doesn’t answer.

You leave the keys on the credenza. The door clicks shut behind you.

And just like that, you become the kind of girl who walks away from a man who would’ve never walked away from you.

You last 5 minutes in the car by yourself before you’re shaking. Your vision blurs and you pull over. Your hands stay on the wheel, but your shoulders can’t stop shaking.

No noise escapes you, the kind of breathless crying that comes only after you’ve been thoroughly overwhelmed. You don’t even know why you’re crying. Because you hurt Jungwon? Because you left him? Because you chose Riki this time and you’re sorry for hurting him too? Because you don’t know if you’ve ruined it with him too?

You gather yourself slowly. Just enough to drive to the closest hotel.

It’s shabby. If you were your usual self you wouldn’t be found within 10 feet of it. But right now the small and dim room brings you comfort.

The lighting is yellow and uneven, the hallway carpet faded with time and secrets. But right now, the small, dim room wraps around and it's enough.

The walls are a muted pastel green, chipped at the corners, soft and sleepy. The heavy curtains are the color of oversteeped tea. The rug beneath you is old, scratchy in some spots and suspiciously soft in others — probably disgusting. But it’s warm. And it doesn’t ask anything of you.

The bedspread is stiff. The air smells faintly like cheap linen spray and leftover takeout from whoever was here before you. But there’s a strange comfort in how off it all is — like the room knows you don’t belong here, and it’s choosing not to care.

You drop your bag. The zipper’s still half open.

You lie down on the carpet, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The glow from the streetlights outside crawls in through the blinds in thin gold lines. You trace them with your eyes like they might lead you out of this moment.

But they don’t.

They just remind you that morning will come whether you’re ready or not.

Eventually, you sit up with heavy limbs and pull your dress off in silence. You throw on an oversized tee, one that smells faintly like Jungwon’s laundry detergent, and immediately hate it. You shrug it off your shoulders as if it burned you.

You flick the TV on, scroll through the channels until you land on one that only plays indie love songs and soft piano ballads. You try to sleep to it, but your brain won’t quiet down. The pillow feels too loud. The room feels too full of everything you left unsaid.

So you grab your phone.

The screen lights up with missed calls. Coupang Eats (3 missed calls) 11:08 PM. 11:42 PM. 12:17 AM.

You don’t call back.

Instead, your fingers start flying across the screen. You swipe through your notes app, scroll past voice memos and lists you never finished, until you find it: “Shared account pw 🫣🤐🤞”

The login still works.

The finsta you and Riki made when you were fifteen. No followers, no bios, no comments. Just a locked archive. You remember laughing about it back then, calling it your “burner for memories.”

The feed loads.

First photo you see is a blurry close-up of your pinky with his pinky wrapped around it. Captioned contract sealed.

Then you scroll past selfies at the convenience store, your faces mid-laugh, Riki sticking out his tongue. Then a video of him trying to teach you how to skateboard, failing miserably and pretending to die in the parking lot. You can hear your own cackling in the background.

The further you scroll, the harder it gets to breathe.

A picture from your sixteenth birthday. He’d made you a paper crown from receipts and straw wrappers. You wore it all night. He wrote in the caption ‘Queen of making me soft’. You’d replied ‘Ur weak anyway’.

You press the screen. Let the image fill up your phone. Let the ache press into your lungs.

He was your best friend before he was anything else. And now everything feels like too much.

You set the phone face down and finally let yourself cry. Quietly. Face buried in your arms. Not for Riki. Not for Jungwon. Just for the version of yourself who didn’t know how complicated love could get.

You fall asleep like that, head pounding, throat sore and dry and eyes swollen. And wake just as the sun is starting to paint the skyline yellow-

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Your heart leaps. You sit up too fast. The pounding continues, it sounds urgent, not frantic. Like whoever’s on the other side knows you’ll open. Like they’re sure of it.

You reach for the first thing you can find (your old hoodie) and slip it over your head as you stumble barefoot to the door.

You peek through the peephole.

Riki.

Hair a mess. Hoodie half-zipped. Jaw tight. His shoulders are hunched like he’s been holding his breath for hours. His eyes are ringed with exhaustion, skin pale under the hallway light. You open the door slowly.

Neither of you says anything at first.

He just looks at you. Takes in the hoodie. Your bare legs. The redness around your eyes.

You swallow hard. “How did you even find me?”

He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze for once. “Went to your place. Jungwon opened the door. Didn’t say much… just said you were staying at some hotel. That you left.”

He looks up now. “So I checked every hotel near the highway. Every cheap one I thought you’d never usually pick. I figured, you’d want to be somewhere that didn’t ask questions.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your chest tightens just seeing him there.

Riki doesn’t wait for an invitation. He doesn’t speak again. Just steps inside, shuts the door behind him with a soft click. Tosses off his jacket onto the nearby chair.

Then he walks over and pulls you into his arms.

No tension. No games. No hunger.

Just holds you.

You cave instantly, burying your face into his chest like your bones have been aching for this. And you cry. Again, but it’s not like last night, not quiet or restrained — but open. Loudly. Like a kid.

Riki says nothing for a while, just moves you both to the bed. His hand just runs slowly over the back of your hoodie, warm and careful. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Then, just barely above a whisper he tells you, “I told you I’d never stop choosing you.”

And that’s all it takes.

You let yourself collapse into him, fully.  His hands splay across your back, holding you close enough to feel every shaky breath. The kind of hug that says stay here. That says I’ve got you.

Time moves differently in his arms. You don’t know how long you stay there, pressed against his chest, legs tangled, hearts a little quieter now.

Eventually, your tears slow. You sniffle and wipe your cheek against his shirt, then freeze. “Sorry. I got snot on you.”

Riki glances down. “I don’t care.” He slightly pauses before speaking again, “I like when you ruin my stuff anyway.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips threaten a smile. “You're such a freak.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you — his thumb brushing beneath your eye gently. “And you look ridiculous in that hoodie. It's swallowing you.”

“It’s yours.”

“Exactly.”

You both laugh. A small one. But real.

Riki presses a kiss to your forehead. It's gentle. No pressure. No expectation. Just warmth.

You sit on the edge of the bed while Riki disappears into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. You hear the faucet, the clatter of the cheap soap dish. It’s quiet again, but this time, not lonely.

When he steps back out, his hair is damp and pushed back, and his sleeves are rolled to his elbows. He looks younger this way. Less like the person who ruined you, and more like the boy who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt.

You curl your knees up to your chest. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He glances at the crusty hotel menu on the nightstand and lifts a brow. “Room service?”

You nod. “Please don’t judge me if I order pancakes and miso soup.”

Riki smirks. “That’s disgusting. I’m getting that too.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed with trays between you.

Miso steam fogs your lashes. The pancakes are a little dry, but Riki drowns his in syrup and makes a show of pretending it’s gourmet. You throw a rolled-up napkin at him and he catches it mid-air with his mouth. He’s so smug, it’s ridiculous (ridiculously endearing).

For a while, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist. Like you’re not running away. Like this is just... the two of you again. Existing in a quiet pocket of peace.

“I forgot how easy it is,” you murmur.

Riki chews, swallows. “What is?”

“This. Us. When we’re not trying to hurt each other.”

He’s silent for a second, then reaches across the tray and tugs your sleeve. “Then let’s stop trying.”

After breakfast, you both stretch out on the bed. You lie back. He lies beside you. Not touching. Just breathing together. And after a while, without saying anything, Riki slips his pinky against yours.

You link it.

He glances at the clock. “It’s still early,” he says. “Wanna go for a drive?”

You turn to look at him. “Where?”

He smiles. Soft. Secretive.

“Somewhere we left a part of ourselves.”

A short drive later with the windows cracked and the morning sun warming the car you’re on your way.

You recognize the route before he even parks.

The overlook.

It’s stupid, really. Just a hill that peers out over the city, tucked behind an old park and some bike trails. You used to sneak up here after dark when you were both barely sixteen. It was the first place you ever kissed. On a hot rainy summer day. Hair soaked, heart pounding, shoes caked in mud. Neither of you ever talked about it much after — like it was a secret even from yourselves.

You stare at the familiar curve of the hill, the chipped bench still there.

“You remember?” Riki says as he kills the engine.

You nod slowly. “Of course I do.”

Neither of you says this is where it started. But you’re both thinking it.

He helps you out of the car like he always used to, like you’re fragile and treasured and something he doesn’t want to lose again. You sit on the bench, shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the skyline.

And when he takes your hand, he doesn’t lace your fingers together… he just holds it, palm to palm. Still. Soft.

“Do you think we could ever do it right?” you ask quietly.

Riki looks over at you. His lashes catch the light. His voice is a little hoarse. “Maybe not perfect. But honest this time.”

You nod. “I could live with that.”

And then, he finally kisses you.

Slowly. Gentle. The kind of kiss that makes time stretch like the world softens just to give you this. He kisses you like he remembers every version of you — the girl from next door, the one who used to steal his hoodies, the one who left him, the one who came back. Like he’s been holding his breath since the last time you touched and finally gets to exhale.

And you melt into it. Your hands slide into his hair without thinking, like it’s an old habit. He tilts his head just slightly, deepening it, and your heart stumbles because it’s not lust that makes you shiver — it’s how much you feel. The love. The passion. The yearning you’d been hiding from yourself.

There’s something unsaid in it. A hundred unsent messages. All the years in between. An apology. A promise. A beginning.

And when he finally pulls back just an inch, your forehead rests against his. Both of you a little breathless.

“I missed you,” he says quietly. “More than I should’ve.”

You don’t speak. You just kiss him again. Because saying it aloud would break you.

But he already knows.

You sit beside him on the old bench by the reservoir for the long time after that. Shoulder to shoulder, reminiscing together.

You glance at him. “It hasn’t changed much.”

Riki smiles faintly, eyes forward. “You have.”

You huff a laugh. “Thanks?”

“I mean it in a good way.” He tilts his head toward you, expression open now, so rare for him. “You always had all this light in you. You just… didn’t know how to carry it.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Letting it in. Letting it sting.

Then you nudge his knee with yours. “You were the first person to ever see me.”

[justladders]

Springtrap pec meme would be such enrichment methinks. Also please note Everything you draw pushes me closer to insanity in the best way

I'm assuming that was in reference to shirtless springtrap And then this pec meme

[xxplastic-cubexx]

just wanted to make a color ref for Brain Therapist Magneto from 309 but i needed lights too for some reason

bonus The Flats Only Version

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi? Gosh how do I even start with this :'D

I know it's been ages since I've last popped up on here. I've been debating when to post this for a while, but I kept adding to my draft more and more and now it's the end of JULY omgg I felt so guilty disappearing with zero updates but then thought my birthday would be the best day to finally address this considering it'll feel less random? idk but Ive always celebrated my bday with you guys and I'd feel so bad answering your kind asks without me at least explaining why I was gone for months.

Truth be told, I was dealing with a lot of stuff irl. health issues and sudden declining grades that left me stumped and drained for months now- along with technical issues like having to replace some parts of my computer that took a while for me to find to even draw digitally, which I didn't have the time for anyway with how tired and weary I felt every day.

I'm frankly shaken up by a lot of shit rn and I don't know how to be active online with this burden on my chest- Especially as it's been a while since I've even looked at utmv related content and my motivation dwindled. I swear I'd hype myself up to post or reblog something- but I'd see just how much I've missed or the overwhelming amount of posts I'd need to go through and I'd feel so swamped with exhaustion and most importantly guilt, for not clearing the air up sooner to reassure you guys that I'm, y'know, alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And I'd procrastinate cause typing it all out is hard and I'd give up halfway every time and it's just not fair to you all!

I thought I was handling it well when I started going out and socializing more, instead of staying cooped up at home on my computer all day. and in the first draft of this post I made months ago I was gonna detail some of the fun plans I had, for my life and for this blog :D but relaxing my strict study schedule and letting go a bit of my tight routine, thinking it was better than wringing myself dry to keep it up, backfired horribly, to say the least.

I know right?? so silly to be hung up on stupid shit like studies of all things! but this is a very important thing for me considering my career plans and the competitivity encouraged by everyone I'm surrounded by, the pressure of keeping up adding to my already stressful days. I had to fix myself up first and I couldn't handle the strain nor interact with people and thinking of jobs and exams sapped my energy so much it's frankly embarrassing. writing this feels so cheesy too and it frustrates me to know I could've come back a month earlier if it weren't for that, but I also know putting all of this into words then would just sound like incoherent venting (not that this is very different tbf) and I wasn't in the right headspace to address my absence, or anything really- I didn't want everyone to see me return when I couldn't muster up a genuinely positive message, let alone talk to anyone with a shadow of my usual cheer

I feel like a complete mess and It drives me up the wall how depressed I've gotten. I debated deleting this blog so many times 'cause the fear of disappointing my audience and my friends, for lack of a more fitting sentiment, made me feel even shittier. I'm constantly thinking if this wall of text is worth posting, or if it's better not to burden you all with all my sappy troubles as if it's the end of the world. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not trying to dramatize this situation, but I don't think I'm up to pretending I'm all sunshine and enthusiasm you're all accustomed to.

So sorry for worrying you all! I'll try to catch up, deliver some missed birthday gifts, and answer some asks while I'm at it! Again, I can't state how much I appreciate your support throughout the years. It's frankly a miracle I kept any of you around with how much I keep popping and leaving at random with no warning. I definitely can't promise for my stay to be without a hitch, and if you don't mind an inconsistent schedule you're free to stay of course, but I'm afraid I can't sustain the pace I had when I first started this blog. I'll keep posting art, but lower my activity in the fandom sphere to reduce the strain on my mental health. so fewer rants and walls of text, more art, and less stress overall. Love you all and thanks for waiting for this long <3

[acespaceacepilot]

[killjoy-prince]

Cupsleeve event haul!!

[ressq]

Need.. Pete

siiighs ok anon i finally opened up procreate and managed to draw something.

if it's not obvious, he's peeking out behind a wall or door or something. idk use your imagination

i'm NOT one of those people that thinks pete is an innocent angel...but i headcanon that early on in their heists, he was a bit more reluctant. he was probably a garden-variety pickpocket or petty thief before joining forces with alex. i could see him being hesitant, a bit of a pushover, maybe. that's probably why he was drawn to the domineering alex, right?

alex probably only kept him around early on because alex is a narcissist who enjoys the fact that pete just follows his lead. pete, being a fast learner, would certainly develop a taste for violence in time. especially since alex and the others would affirm him afterwards.

yes, i think about this a lot.

and this thing, i don't think i ever posted it because i couldn't figure out how to connect his damn legs to his body. or those HANDS! i picked a bad screenshot to draw.

and then ummm pokemon trainer pete sketch. the fullybody looks bad so im not going to post it(yet?) i think his ace would be a thievul. i spend a lot of time thinking about what pokemon each droog would have.

[fourteentheart]

Manifesting Bushranger into the shop so I can play Fortnite as Makoh'to. It makes perfect sense to me 😤

[catcatb0y]

Old man yells at cloud moment, but I am exhausted by those "Being a writer/liking a character is wanting to see them in a fit of of graphic despair-" because you know to a degree I GET it and I've BEEN there, but I am actually Just tired of angst. It feels like the two genres of fanfiction overwhelmingly are either smut or angst. If fandom isn't sexual, it's catty, if it's not catty, it's sexual, and if you're really unlucky it's both in the good old circa 2010 BL Doujinshi circle "No means yes actually."

Me and my favorite characters are already going through enough as is, only for their front row of cheerleaders to be cheering for their imminent demise, actually.

Like. Being fr. It's fiction. These are fake little guys. Them sobbing in a pool of their own blood literally doesn't hurt anyone. But it does hurt ME, because my little guy is sad and now I am sad. Is there no one? No one who wishes to make life better for these fictional creatures? No writer who takes joy in making their characters happy? No one who wants mine silly little guy to smile as I do??? (I have obviously divolved into drama)

In short: I wish we were able to block specific genres of post without needing keywords like come on, it's literally gotten to the point where I've just started blocking anyone who says 'being a writer is wanting to see your favorite character suffer' because no actually I want to see them get a good night's rest for once. I want to see them happy. I want to see them experiencing warmth and bliss they weren't even sure existed. I want them covered in the blood of their enemies and reviling in their now broken chains. I want them free. Thriving. Committing acts of violence that make them feel like life is worth living.

I already go for the traumatized characters right off the bat, I DON'T want to see them WORSE, I want them to experience comfort for the first time like a top heavy newborn kitten being pet for the first time. Screaming and hissing but warm and safe.

Being real for a moment, I obviously can't stop people from posting or reblogging this genre of posts, NOR WOULD I WANT TO. I'm glad they're having fun, BUT I wish I could blacklist this genre of post.

[astonmartinii]

wherever the roots may lead you | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x antonelli!reader

when one takes an ancestry test they don’t usually expect to find out that their half brother is now racing in formula one…

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, user1 and 1,578 others

yourusername: the whole office decided to do an ancestry test - WHY IS MY HALF BROTHER KIMI ANTONELLI???

view all comments

user1: girl i follow you for your pasta recipes why am i expected to know who this man is

user2: he’s a formula one driver?

user3: he’s A BABY

user4: the way this did not answer a single question

yourbff: bro you’re italian, there’s probably hundreds of kimi antonellis

yourusername: no one asked you to be logical about this

yourbff: let’s just not claim a random 18-year-old without verifying it

yourusername: well in the short five minutes i’ve known of his existence i have googled him and all the dates line up

youbff: not to support this delusion but you two do look freakishly similar

user5: i fear my kimi stanship has led me to dark places

user6: for real why is this girl yapping

user7: idk how i got here but they do look like they could be related …

user8: if they are it’s still probably not the weirdest thing to happen in f1 this week

user9: someone needs to study the sport and as to why it’s so fucking weird

olliebearman: who are you and why have you stolen kimi’s face

yourusername: excuse me?

olliebearman: you are excused

yourusername: what?

olliebearman: you are claiming to be related to kimi but i happen to know everything ever about him sooooooooo where have you been all this time?

yourusername: well i kind of just found out about this so i don’t have an answer for you right now?

olliebearman: i’ve got my eye on you weirdo

yourusername: okay?

kimiantonelli: wait!!! ollie how did you even find this post it’s got like 2k likes?

yourusername: omg read?

olliebearman: well it just came up on my explore page?

yourusername: no the fuck it didn’t

olliebearman: EXCUSE ME MISS, KEEP YOUR BEAK OUT OF BEARNELLI BUSINESS

yourusername: you’re doing your business in my comment section?

user10: i swear these fools are meant to be at media day

user11: nothing stops for bearnelli chaos clearly

estebanocon: @olliebearman yo? we were meant to be filming like 20 minutes ago?

olliebearman: oh? i was busy

yourusername: busy getting on my nerves

olliebearman: WHO ARE YOU?

yourusername: you’re on MY INSTAGRAM PAGE

olliebearman: i am a child WATCH HOW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT A CHILD

olliebearman: @charles_leclerc dad stop her now

charles_leclerc: why are you pinging me during the press conference

olliebearman: this is important !!!!

charles_leclerc: @yourusername oh hi

yourusername: hello ???

kimiantonelli

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc and 590,300 others

tagged: yourusername

kimiantonelli: i thought getting points on my debut would be the craziest part of my week but turns out i have a half sister i never knew about ??? watch your back paddock i don’t think you can handle TWO antonellis

view all comments

user12: wait so that trainwreck the other day was REAL?

user13: smile and wave girl i have no clue what’s going on

user14: we need a weekly episode of drive to survive at this point omg

yourusername: we haven’t even met yet

yourusername: i am very excited to

kimiantonelli: OF COURSE WE SHOULD BE EXCITED

kimiantonelli: i knew you were out there i could feel you in my waters

yourusername: i’m not sure you have waters? like anatomically?

kimiantonelli: well i knew you existed before your post so explain that atheist

yourusername: i’m just going to let you have this one i think…

kimiantonelli: that is VERY wise

user15: i am losing my mind over the fact that these kids are talking for the first time in instagram comments

user16: i honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from this crop of rookies

jackdoohan: please do not lump me in with this nonsense

kimiantonelli: so our family love is nonsense to you

yourusername: jack!!!! after everything …. i can’t believe this!

jackdoohan: we’ve never spoken before?

yourusername: well in my familial research i watched the rookie round table and you ranked highly to me… but i see

jackdoohan: wOAH PAUSE

jackdoohan: my apologies

kimiantonelli: they all come crawling back …

user17: what is actually happening?

user18: so like has anyone stalked this girl? who even is she?

olliebearman: y/n y/ln is a 26-year-old marketing manager who lives in london. she runs a pasta-themed instagram account to apparently page homage to her ‘italian heritage’. she has no kids and no boyfriend or girlfriend. by most accounts she doesn’t have many friends or hobbies or money?

kimiantonelli: that’s like… kinda hot?

yourusername: you do you i guess

yourusername: also like that’s such a rude write up on me ???

olliebearman: so you don’t think i’m hot

kimiantonelli: that’s SO rude y/n

yourusername: you’re EIGHTEEN??? and also have this weird tension with my brother… idk i’m not a therapist?

olliebearman: i’ll call my dad again

yourusername: oh the one from the other post? please! i think he’s the best thing i found on my f1 stalkfest

charles_leclerc: well well well, i’m charles

olliebearman: NO?

kimiantonelli: ollie you gotta let her have something!

olliebearman: but if she falls for his dorky charms that might make us incestuous ???

kimiantonelli: i don’t know what that word means

olliebearman: my dad, dating your sister?

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc you have to disown ollie now

charles_leclerc: okay, if i do that does that mean i can take y/n on a date

yourusername: DO IT NOW PLEASE

yourusername: woah! i mean, i’ll have to check my calendar

yourbff: she’s free, the lanky one was right, she doesn’t have many friends.

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,209,457 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: lost a son and won a date. congrats on the promotion oscar!

view all comments

user19: we are moving so fucking fast

user20: well it’s on theme…

user21: well we need to go from rb19 to that fucking aston martin

yourusername: as far as first dates go … well i didn’t think we’d be babysitting a 23-year-old

charles_leclerc: he’s fragile right now

yourusername: and he needed his emotional support not-boyfriend there as well?

yourusername: and that emotional support not-boyfriend needed to bring his friend who brought his maybe-boyfriend who brought his ‘surrogate brother’ which is MY BROTHER?

charles_leclerc: i’m sorry?

yourusername: i’m starting to think attachment issues and homosexual tension is just part of the job description to work in formula one

alexalbon: i don’t think you’re wrong on that

charles_leclerc: honestly i did plan for just a romantic dinner but things came up!

oscarpiastri: well i’m kind of sorry for crashing your date but as previously stated i was in a crisis…

yourusername: you did cry… but i thought that was just to get charles to get you dessert?

oscarpiastri: you can’t prove that…

oscarpiastri: ALSO why are you just coming for me when the others crashed and without a good reason like me?

yourusername: true ….

landonorris: i was taken by oscar !!!!! not my fault

yourusername: you made me move from my seat across from charles because you didn’t ‘like the lighting’?

landonorris: well that was very kind of you

charles_leclerc: you basically sat on her until she moved

landonorris: well maybe you should have stood up for your date!

georgerussell63: considering how badly lando is digging his grave, i’ll just say sorry and that i wasn’t completely aware it was a date

yourusername: how was it not very obvious? we were at a CANDLE LIT DINNER WITH A TWO PERSON TABLE YOU DRAGGED OVER A TABLE TO SIT WITH US

alexalbon: in our defence we were only going to escort kimi there but the curiosity got too much…

yourusername: are you just attaching to kimi because i’m not going to get annoyed at him

alexalbon: …….. um no?

kimiantonelli: y/n he brought me dessert and a funky little drink - MARRY HIM

yourusername: that’s a little fast buddy

charles_leclerc: so you wouldn’t marry me?

yourusername: take me on another date, just me, and we’ll see

user22: she’s stronger than me i would’ve proposed right here right now

user23: nothing more 2025 than an instagram comment proposal

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 23,091 others

tagged: kimiantonelli & charles_leclerc

yourusername: so who was going to tell me this f1 shit was this crazy?

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user24: actually thinking about it, this girl must be having such intense emotional whiplash

user25: legit because what do you mean like last week she didn’t know what f1 was but now she’s related to the best rated rookie and dating (?) charles leclerc

user26: when will these situations happen upon me

charles_leclerc: did i win you over this weekend?

yourusername: maybe?

charles_leclerc: maybe?

yourusername: okay, yeah

yourusername: but you could’ve let kimi through :/

charles_leclerc: that’s kinda not the game of the game

yourusername: but he’s my brother ?

charles_leclerc: you make a compelling point…

charles_leclerc: but, amor, i wouldn’t let my own brother overtake me

yourusername: i see…

yourusername: it was worth a try sorry kimi

kimiantonelli: fear not we can try again when he’s more in love with you

yourusername: for everyone’s information: i do genuinely like charles, this ^^ is a joke !!!!!!! i understand the sanctity of formula one and that no one would genuinely let another through based on such a situation

kimiantonelli: okay miss PR AND MARKETING

yourusername: oh buddy you should see my DMs, that was necessary

charles_leclerc: what ???

yourusername: babe your fans are great but like a good 5% of them are like genuinely insane, like 51/50 level

charles_leclerc: oh yeah… i’m sorry

yourusername: oh no worries i’d be just that crazy for you

charles_leclerc: you aren’t?

yourusername: i don’t need to be, i have you don’t i?

charles_leclerc: oh hehehehhehehehe, you do

user27: WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN

user28: i’m scared of her, but i need to be her

user29: you can’t be that good at making pasta and have rizz and date charles leclerc

user30: i fear y/n might actually be sniped, she’s a triple threat

oscarpiastri: do you see why i needed emotional support?

yourusername: well yes i get that now

yourusername: but please refrain from crashing dates in the future unless you have let us know promptly

oscarpiastri: i knew i’d get you on side, the leclerc family love me

oscarpiastri: @kimiantonelli watch out, i might overtake you next

kimiantonelli: i will slash your tyres, y/n will bail me out

yourusername: will i?

kimiantonelli: so you don’t love me?

olliebearman: I TOLD YOU SHE WAS NO GOOD

yourusername: first of all, ollie - i thought i’d managed to get you on side with my offering of pasta. second, i love you the most on the grid kimi, i just do not have the disposable cash of a formula one driver

kimiantonelli: fine, you make a point

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc looks like it’s down to you now.

kimiantonelli: and you’d do anything for my sister, right?

charles_leclerc: ugh why are the rookies so crafty these days

yourusername: hmmmm?

charles_leclerc: YES I WOULD, FOR YOU

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,894,500 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: follow wherever the roots may take you, because sometimes it might lead you to the best thing ever

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user31: i mean meeting your girlfriend through her doing an ancestry test to find out she’s related to your coworker is one hell of a meet cute i’ll give them that

user32: ‘wherever the roots may take you’ okay mr leclerc when did we become a poet

user33: let’s add it to the words of wisdom

user34: the ferrari garage WISHES they could be him

kimiantonelli: well, i am pleasantly surprised with how this all unfolded, you’re definitely the best choice on the grid

yourusername: awwwww kimi thanks !!!

charles_leclerc: thanks?

olliebearman: CHARLES IS THE BEST CHOICE ON THE GRID ????

kimiantonelli: you want to date my sister? i thought you liked another antonelli?

olliebearman: oh!

olliebearman: yes!

olliebearman: … another antonelli for sure

charles_leclerc: @yourusername do i say anything

yourusername: no i want to watch ollie suffer after he’s done nothing but come for me

charles_leclerc: okay, amor

user35: this is how all men should be

user36: AGREE WITH EVERYTHING I SAY

user37: so like… where do we find them because i fear there’s only two ferrari drivers and many of us

yourusername: well i am certainly glad i followed mine

charles_leclerc: led you right to me

yourusername: wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehe i guess i have that effect on people

yourusername: PEOPLE?

charles_leclerc: just you xxxxx

yourusername: that’s what i thought

charles_leclerc: speaking of you… when can you come to another race?

yourusername: i’m very sorry to say babe but i do have a job

charles_leclerc: NOOOOOOOOOOO

yourusername: i know :( i don’t dream of labour

charles_leclerc: what do you dream of?

yourusername: there’s this really sexy monegasque formula one driver who has an amazing accent and the cutest little dog. he’s super determined and sounds even sexier when he’s angry on the radio or celebrating a win. you might know him?

charles_leclerc: i might…

yourusername: well you should BACK OFF because he’s MINE

charles_leclerc: yes, yes he is

user38: so like … how do we get her on drive to survive

yourusername: oh you know netflix have been calling my phone

user39: LETS GOOOOOOO

yourusername: don’t celebrate too soon, because you won’t like me when i delete all the cute footage of charles, that’s for my eyes only

user40: i would want you dead, but also real

lewishamilton: ummmmm so when can you come back @yourusername he’s being pathetic again

yourusername: he’s always pathetic that’s what i love about him

lewishamilton: but it’s particularly bad now, he’s carrying a picture of you and leo (it’s VERY badly photoshopped)

charles_leclerc: hey! joris was busy i had to make it myself

yourusername: that’s cute bby don’t listen to him

charles_leclerc: yeah leave me alone lewis

lewishamilton: what the hell, sure

fin.

note: if you couldn't tell i'm a big kimi stan LMAO

[blueivyy99]

Calm and Serenity

Sylus x Non!MC

summary: you didn't know what sylus saw in you. he said you were calm, quiet and serene and that's what he needs. you believed it. he showed it. not until little miss hunter came. she's everything you're not. news that she's in danger can make the ever so calm sylus to run and leave everything behind. it made you think, would he do that for you as well?

tags: angst, romance, hurt and comfort, confused sylus, non-mc reader (this is it for now)

note: first time writing after five years, please be kind. (im also new in using Tumblr idk how to use this lawrd)

Series Masterlist

It takes a strong woman to love Sylus.

Someone who can carry themselves, someone that doesn't need to be always under surveillance. Someone that can fight. Someone that is worthy to be by his side.

And somehow, you were that someone.

You didn't even know what you did that attracted him to you. Despite not being ugly, you're not a head turner also. You remember asking Sylus about what he saw in you that made him fall in love and he just smirked at you before turning around to toy with his guns and cleaning them.

“You're calm, serene, quiet. Just someone I need. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, little fox. I love you because I love you. You don't need to find explanations in everything."

At that moment, it made your heart stop in a good way. You always believed that someone like Sylus would see you, look at you, and pay attention to you but here he is. Just at an arm's reach.

No matter how everyone warns you that a bad man cannot love, yet you find yourself falling deeper and deeper and you know for certain that Sylus will be there to catch you when you fall.

Loving Sylus comes with its pros and cons. For one, you know that you're safe and in danger at the same time. Living in Onychinus as Sylus's girlfriend made you realize that you are protected yet always under the watchful eyes of your boyfriend's enemies.

Luke, Kieran and even Mephisto guards every move you make just to make sure that you're not harmed.

It's not like you can't fight for yourself, but with them beside you, you don't even have to. That's another perk of being Sylus's “little fox" as he so dearly calls you.

To be honest, you feel like it's more of a benefit than a hassle to be so close to him. Because aside from the many things in your advantage that he can provide, you found a family.

The twins may always cause ruckus, or Mephisto always giving you a heart attack every time he sneaks on you, they're your family.

Being with Sylus gave you something that no amount of money or influence can give. With him, with them, you felt like you belonged.

But then, beautiful dreams can still turn into nightmares.

You didn't really intend to overhear their conversation … or rather, Sylus's command to Mephisto.

“Follow her, report every detail. I don't want one step not taken into account,” he said.

You wouldn't mind it if it were normal circumstances. You're not really the jealous type — or rather, he didn't give you enough reasons to be jealous.

But as you look at him, you can see the somber look in his eyes. For a split second, you can even tell that he might actually cry before masking it.

You watched him as he let his walls break for a moment. No he didn't cry but you can see how his jaws are clenched and his hands are trembling. He is in deep turmoil and him not aware of your presence watching him is enough proof of that.

You felt an impending doom approaching, but you quickly shut them out. You will wait until Sylus tells you what's going on.

Maybe next morning?

Next week?

In a month?

Who knows.

So you waited and waited. But too much time has passed and he never brought it up.

Not until the answer willingly came knocking on Onychinus’s doorstep.

Miss Hunter.

Miss Hunter is a formidable fighter, that much you can say. She's not gonna beat Sylus in hand to hand combat, but she sure can put up a fight and you can see how that pleased Sylus. To be fair, it's hard for him to find an opponent in a place where is the strongest.

So you watched.

You watched from the sidelines as he frustratedly kept trying to resonate with her. You watched his pained face when he was told that she might be subconsciously disgusted by him and that prevents them from maximizing their battle potential.

It hurts, yes, you're a human after all. But you have enough trust in him and you come to the conclusion that Miss Hunter is someone that is a vital part of Sylus's much greater plan.

Whether you say that to yourself because you truly believe it or you're trying to convince yourself that there's nothing deeper going on.

No one knows.

Not even you.

“Sylus?" you called.

"Hmm?” you heard him hum from across the room of his study. He's on his swivel chair, eyes closed but surely not asleep.

It's the middle of the night and you're sure that he is awake. So you came here quickly after setting your alarm just to see him.

It's been a while since you two get to be alone and spend some time as a couple. He is always busy. Always on the phone, always on edge. It's like any time now he is going to explode. So as a good girlfriend, you came to him tonight to offer some kind of peace.

You kissed his temple before standing behind his chair and giving him a soft massage. You felt his muscles release tension and he relaxed in your arms.

“You've been working so hard lately, even the strongest men need to rest too, you know?" you said.

"I can't, sweetie.” he replied, sounding tired. "There's much that I need to do."

“Is it too much that you can't even spare your poor girlfriend a few hours for just one night?” you teased.

“You know that's not what I meant, Little Fox,"

“Then come to bed. Just for tonight. You won't function well if you're not getting the right amount of sleep. Even Mephisto needs rest so he won't overheat.” you insisted now facing him.

“That's not how he works," he grumbled but didn't say anything after. He just hugged your waist and leaned his head on you. You melted because of it.

Most people see him as terrifying and heartless but when you see him like this, you know that he's just like everyone else. He gets tired, he gets upset.

Combing your fingers through his hair and cupping his cheeks to make him look at you, “Come and rest with me. Nothing bad will happen. Stop devising strategies in your head, boss man. I believe in you.”

That seemed to do it. He sighed and got up holding your hand and dragging you to your shared bedroom.

And no matter how he tries to act that he is not tired, he immediately falls asleep as soon as you kiss him goodnight.

You looked at his sleeping form and despite how weak you are compared to him, you wanted to protect him and this little vulnerability that he shows you.

Part 2

[omniphilic]

⠀⠀⠀⭒󠀠󠀠󠀠 ( ´ཀ` ) YOU LOOK HUNGRY ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀mark actually makes it in time for dinner, but he thinks missing it would’ve been less embarrassing than getting bricked up at your table.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a.k.a ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Amber’s Mom Has Got It Going On

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀> all characters involved are 18 and older. the following fic contains ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀mark grayson thirsting over someone at least 20 years his senior. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

warnings & tags | i guess it is implied the reader is poc. but idk if u are white just imagine amber is biracial (or imagine the one from the comics ig) 🤷🏾‍♀️ inconvenient boners, the perverse mind of a sweet suburban boy (he's thirsty), mishandling of an embarrassing situation, male masturbation, scent kink, misuse of cow print panties. mark thinks of cheating on amber (spiritually?), you're not in on it <3 you are a baddie minding your business. reader is a good mom (serious). reader is said to have fat/pudge/curves at least once. mark is uncircumcised. the reader is referred to using titles that align with she/her/hers, you are considered Amber's 'mom'. PORN WITH PLOT i take the premise extremely seriously lol. 7.3k words.

yapper notes | i went to a music lounge and a young woman (very beautiful alt girl) sang a song dedicated to her ex called 'you look hungry' and i immediately got the idea for this fic . shout out to the big homie @on-hit for helping me every step of the way with it they are an AWESOME beta reader, and to my inspirations @sophsthebest @slutla @batsovergotham @nana-au @arieswritez who have been making me go CWAZY with their mark content. first fic is dedicated to yall <33 taglist | @zomqiez

“—k hungry.” His glass clinks off the wood of the table when you set it down, the sound snapping Mark back to reality.

Mark blinks out of his stupor, memories of the time and place rushing back to him. “I’m sorry Mrs. Bennett—what’d you say?” Smiling awkwardly, Mark realized then and there he should not have agreed to this. He should have found some way to tell Amber he couldn’t make it.  He should have bailed and asked mom to make some shit up so he didn’t have to be seated across from you at this dinner table. The flu excuse was a classic—although, he hadn’t seemed sick earlier that week. Scratch that, couldn’t work. Food poisoning, though? He was sure that could’ve worked well enough to have kept him the fuck home. 

He knows that Mom probably wouldn’t have done it, though. She’d have gone on and on about honesty—sincerity. The things that make or break a relationship. He would’ve had to tell Amber himself anyway.

He secretly hoped Cecil changed his mind about having reassigned him, but dashed the thought as quickly as he had it. Mark Grayson would never hope to be that lucky.

“You look hungry.” Your emphasis. It draws out the grit in your voice; that saccharine drawl lances through his thoughts and spears him right in the chest. His heart pounds with the roar of a war drum, disconcertingly loud in his ears and you’re standing so close—just to pour his water—that he worries for a moment you can hear it too. He prays to God you don’t notice how tense he is or how red his face has gotten since you’ve stepped into his vicinity. 

What is he so flustered by, anyway? Is it the smell of your perfume that’s got him short circuiting? The faint tickle of your breath on his ear? The mere thought of you being anywhere near him?

The answer is D: all of the above. 

Having come to this conclusion, it sets the facts in stone--

He really is fucked. 

He’d be surprised if he still had a girlfriend by the end of the night cause his eyes have been glued to you since you opened the door, caught on your every word. Amber was over the moon about it at first. He’d been housebroken in five minutes tops; yes and ma’am his two favorite words.

“Hungry?”

It's hardly anything but you light up anyway, your shock giving way to a restrained excitement and in an instant your demeanor entirely made over. Your eyes became alive and bright, smile lines gentle crescents on your face as your grin spans ear to ear. 

You have been doing most of the talking. He can’t get his thoughts in a straight line when you look him in the eyes so instead of being tongue-tied, second guessing and editing every genuine reaction, he made himself set dressing; he was your coat rack in the corner, the ottoman that held your drinks, your plaid couch cushion. He observed the banter between you and Amber and acted like some stranger, or her shadow as opposed to ‘her little friend.’ You had tried to coax him out of his shell.

Nudged his shoulder. A quick What do you think, Mark? just to see if he’ll bite. He only nodded politely. Kept eye-contact but hardly emoted; you don’t think this kid has blinked for the past five minutes. I think it’s just fine, ma’am. No dice. Cool and calm, but it feels too curated. Contained.

You think he doesn’t like you at first and that is entirely on him. The bit of sadness in your eyes and the odd glance from Amber fills him with dread, but ultimately he decides it’s worth it. It was far better than you getting too close and finding out he actually likes you—a lot more than he should. He feels the rage of his hormones itching at his hind brain; a stirring in his pants just because you brushed his shoulder.

During all your pleasantries he was preoccupied. Busy exercising dwindling self-restraint, jaw tightened and fingers dug into his palms so hard he’s sure he bled a bit.

Behind his eyes is his rational mind resisting the urge to ogle. Eye contact is the bane of him but so is your body, each curve and sharp edge unfortunately (mournfully, even) hidden beneath the threshold of your neck. He dared not look any lower. 

He’d done more than enough staring when Amber first showed him your picture. She brought up the whole dinner idea and flashed a pic of you offhandedly, said it was from your birthday.

He should’ve called it there. He should’ve wisened up and cut his losses, because this was a bad fucking idea. 

He was staring for wayyy too long; being rendered slack-jawed in front of your girl for any amount of time by anyone who’s not her is immediately and unignorably suspect. However, you are the girl’s mother, and Mark is praying Amber thinks he is in his right mind and does not jump to the conclusion that, briefly, he wondered what your tits looked like sans top. 

“She’s…” Hot. “Beautiful. I see where you get your good looks from, babe.” Amber laughed at that, missing the single drip of sweat that had to have been sliding down his temple. She elbowed him, paltry laughter coloring her speech. “Okay good, cuz’ that was a test.” Mark squints at her, hands closing in at her waist and gently pinching her fat, teasing. “Testing me? What are you vetting for? What—” He had laughed from the nerves, picked at a loose thread on his jeans to diffuse his inner tension. “Do people say crazy shit about your mom to your face?”

He’d been peering at the picture from beneath her thumb when she shook her head. “You’d be surprised! Some people booold as fuck.”

Mark was busy looking, didn’t respond right away. “Yeah… that’s, that’s wild.” 

Did you get knocked up fresh out of highschool? There are some natural lines of age that accentuate your smile and reach your eyes, but none of that even matters; it’s like your aura is timeless, your confidence striking, he could feel your joy, and he smiles back at you like a dumbass.

“You good?” She’s noticed it, the shift in the energy. 

SOUND THE ALARMS! He’s been caught. It’s over. Amber hates his guts thinks he’s disgusting and is never going to speak to him again—

“Yeah! I’m just super excited to meet her. She seems like a lovely woman.” When she smiles back, the flood sirens stop, hazard lights go out. “She is! Mom of year material, swear to god.” 

“...yeah.”

Good grief, what the hell would his mother say? Catching him drooling over a woman twice his age—he hoped she’d at least laugh before she smacked him upside the head.

But he feels as blameless as he does shameful.

Because look at you. As far as he’s concerned, dinner’s already been served.

His mouth is dry by the time it catches up to his mind. 

“Yeah, I know that look man. You’re starving.” You step back from around him and walk towards the oven, and he justifies his staring by convincing himself he was already looking over before you walked there. He gulps.

Your pants cup your ass so perfectly; two beautiful cheeks, teasing him from under thin denim— “Uh.. yeah, I guess I am. Thirsty, too. Thanks for the water,” he cheers at you and you shake your head, putting on cow print oven mitts. They match your apron, your drink coasters, and utensil grips. There’s a joke there somewhere: something something, mommies and milkies.

“Don’t mention it! But sorry for the wait; dinner doesn’t usually take this long to start—I have no idea what that girl is doing up there.” You open the oven. “Oh! Before I forget: if you want anything other than water, or if you want seconds, just let me know sweetheart.”

He eats you up with his eyes, you don’t know he’s already on his third plate.

Your voice—suave, smooth—soothes and excites him. You speak with the cadence of a song, your expressive lilt or husky croons tickle his brain in just the right way. You are genuine, cordial, have been since he’s stepped foot into your home. Amber is always coming over with little lunches, post-it notes with squiggly hearts attached. You sign everything in the same flowy script, for my beautiful daughter; since you have learned of his existence, you’ve tacked on and her little friend in parenthesis, packing the snacks Amber told you he liked. 

You’re attentive. Thoughtful. You’d even gotten him a gift for his birthday before you even met in person. He refused to accept the present at first, but Amber said it’d be a bigger hassle to try and get you to give it back, from one of those shows Amber said you liked written on the card attached. 

A limited edition shiny, which he can’t fathom you found for any price cheaper than an arm and a leg. Amber said you had a friend and just thought he might like it.

It was really… sweet. How much you wanted them to work out. He senses that same sincerity in your every action. In every smile or wave, in the time you took to prepare him a beautiful dinner—and you’re right, he actually is hungry—all in an effort to get to know him better. You’re not some cougar, or some hyper-nymphomaniac slut who’d try to seduce her daughter’s boyfriend. Which was unfortunate, for him.

You are just a good mom. A great one even, and a better host besides. Mark is just some fucking pervert.

While you’re pulling the trays out of the oven, he is glued to your every movement, tilting his head to get your best angles. Your spread is immaculate.

The gentle swing of your hips, and fuck—he swears he can see the outline of it. The subtle flare of your pussy lips, shrink wrapped in your jeans. Either he’s imagining things, or your cunt’s just as fat as he thought it’d be.

Fuck dinner, he desperately wants to skip straight to dessert, peach juice dribbling down his chin. He’d lick you up quick—you’re liquid gold, too precious to waste a drop. “...she’s probably getting cute for her little friend…” You mutter to yourself, which cuts through the fog of perversion, and he takes a sip of his water in a futile attempt to cool off.

His final shame would be getting hard at your dinner table. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, it’s just out of your control just like it’s out of his, in a way. You can’t help looking good in your clothes!  That’s why you buy them, for the way they cuddle your supple curves, snuggle between your folds, caressing your fat so well they had to have been tailor-made for you. 

You’d look good in his clothes, too.

His dick twitches at the thought, grip around his glass tightening.

“I should’ve asked Amber what you like to eat but,” You start, still taking trays out the oven.”I guess the invitation was super last minute, so apologies if our meager dinner doesn’t suit your highfalutin’ tastes.” He can hear the smile on the tip of your tongue, your jibes easing his wariness. ”Don’t even worry about that,” he reassures, thinking too hard about what to say next. “It smells way too good in here for the food to not hit, ya’know?” He facepalms internally.

“Well, aren’t you a flatterer? Why thank you, Mark. It’s nice to feel appreciated.” You’re dramatic, palm to chest and flourishing with the flair of a broadway star, and it catches him so off guard he laughs. You’re emboldened by his energy, moving around with an ineffable pep, almost like you’re dancing. It’s silly frankly, watching you butter bread buns as you jam to an invisible concert.

Mark should have been laughing. Should have been prancing around the kitchen alongside you, playing The Good Boyfriend, collecting his brownie points by helping his girlfriend’s mother around the house. Just be a normal fucking person.

But he’s caught. Fish-on-the-hook, rat-in-a-trap, caught. On the swell of your hips, the twist of your spine, the expanse of your neck, the dimples on your back whenever your shirt rides up. The way your ass sticks out when you get on your tippy toes to grab something from a high shelf. Your body is intoxicating and Mark isn’t the drinking type, but since time immemorial have there been exceptions. He’s been making a lot, tonight, so what’s another?

Everything about this is lovely. There’s fresh baked bread, rice and beans on the stove, baked mac and cheese set aside on a cooling rack, and the chicken… he sniffs. 

“Is that cumin?” He asks, in an attempt to distract himself. You make a noise that sounds like surprise and glance back at him. “Yeah! It is. Some nose you got on ya, Mark! You cook a lot or something? Or maybe…just have an uncanny sense of smell.” You tap your nose, smirking, and Mark just shrugs. “I watch my Mom, she shows me how to cook some stuff from time to time. Or when I ask. But I’m not exactly the greatest student, so I don’t wanna waste her time you know.” He laughs. It makes an odd wheeze coming out, and on impulse he scratches the back of his neck as you sample a sauce. “No worries about that, here. I’m an excellent teacher.” Your smugness palpable, you crook your finger at him. “C’mere, I’ll show you a little something-something.”

And he can’t just say no.

So, there he stands next to you, half-chubbed, in front of the stove. You two are hip-to-hip at your insistence—you can’t learn standing all the way back there—the steam in his face not nearly as hot as he is under the collar. “Veggies with lotsa water are a bitch to cook so I don’t even bother. We’re doing cauliflower tonight. Something simple, sumn’ light. Now, the trick is to be loose with it, don’t worry about whether or not you’re gonna fuck it up. Just let it rock,” You look over at him and he is stiff, like he has half a mind to let your hard work burn to a blackened crisp. You grab his hand to try help him stir and he starts to turn pink. You didn’t think the kitchen was that hot.  “Try and relax. Breathe in, breathe out. You got this baby.” You’re fucking with him. You just have to be. 

Are you really that sultry-toned, bedroom-eyed? Or is he seeing things, steam fogging up his thoughts. He begins, trying not to sound so nervous, “Mrs. Bennett—”

“You can just call me by my name, Mark.” You snort. He swallows. “Okay, ma’a- Uhhh,” He stutters and you chuckle. “If that’s too familiar for you, you can always just call me Mom.” You wink and his heart flutters in his chest. “Okay, mom.” He has to keep himself from shivering as the word rolls off his tongue. 

He’s out of place next to you, a milk jug in the candy aisle, clown shoes paired with a cocktail dress. Your softness contrasts his on-edge, he’s surprised he hasn’t cut you yet. 

“Take a deep breath Mark, you don’t need to overthink it. We’re not doing rocket science.” You guide him. In and then out. Your hand crooks his wrist and he forces himself to relax. “Grab the handle of the pan.” It’s easy to do whatever you ask of him. He’s only waiting for you to say jump. 

“Now stir in a slow continuous motion, loosen your wrists but keep your grip on the spoon tight.” 

You’re training wheels falling away as the cogs in his brain start to turn again. He rotates his wrist and keeps going, stirring in time with your humming. The pale cauliflower change color from white to gold. He takes a peek out of his periphery to gauge how he’s doing, and the wry grin splitting your face makes him smile, too. 

“See? You’re a natural when you put your mind to it. Or maybe you just needed a more hands-on kind of teacher?” you hum. 

He short circuits a second. He doesn’t even notice you snatching a simmering cauliflower out of the pan; you have a mother’s immunity to this kind of heat. “Sample your work always. Never serve someone something you haven’t tried yourself.” You blow gently on the piece you plucked and offer it to him.

“My hands are sort of preoccupied, mom.” Saying that feels much better than it should. “I don’t think I can—” Heat at his lips silences him.

“Open.” 

Housebroken was right. He doesn’t have to think about it, he’s blinked and the cauliflower is already grinding under his teeth. The tastes of garlic and onion bloom beautifully on his palette, not overbearing, just delicious.

“Oh shit yeah,” He groans a little, then remembers himself, drawing back in. “Sorry, pardon my language.” Try as he might to dissuade himself, a snake of a smile slithers onto his face. “It’s great.” Mark smacks his lips together gently as you look at him, expectant. He licks the residue of seasonings off his lip and tries not to imagine what you taste like. “I’m wondering if your tongue’s as sensitive as your nose. So what’s the verdict? Give me a run down.”

He sucks his teeth. “Garlic. Onions. Or maybe shallots? Is there a difference? I just assumed they were just kind of smaller onions.”  He can smell the difference but he likes the way you light up when he asks. “Yeah, there is! Shallots are like… a distant cousin. They’re from a whole different family, Allum- something or other.” You reach in front of him to turn down the heat on the stove and you get far too close for comfort.

“Go on.” He thinks for a moment. “I thought I tasted,” You hold out your hand and he instinctively hands you the spoon. “Hm. I don’t know, I thought I tasted something spicy, a little sweet, maybe.” You nod. “That’s what you call the spice of life: Paprika.” Que jazz hands.

“Two outta three isn’t too bad. I’ll make a chef out of you yet Grayson.” You beam and it is blinding, he has to look away. “You’re shaping up to be an excellent pupil.”  He full body perks up at your praise. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. “Do me a favor Mark?” His dog ears perk up. “Get a cup from the cabinet above you. Then take the pitcher,” You gesture as you slide your oven mitts on. “And put it in the middle of the table.”

“Okay!” He nods so giddily at you that you can’t help your laughter, rich as it flows from you. You’re opening the oven when you say it. You don’t even have the courtesy of facing him as you completely and utterly ruin his life.

“You’re a real good boy, aren’t you Mark?”  

Everything is quiet then—

—SMASH!

The pitcher makes your teeth rattle when it shatters, your head darting to the side so quick it’s a miracle you don’t snap your neck. Mark is standing there a few feet away from you, turned around, water and glass shards pooled at his feet.

“Are you okay?” The urgency in your voice pulls him out of his stupor. “Um. Yeah!” He chirps back, too fast. He is frozen in place. 

“Just! Hold on—” You drop the flan on the counter and chuck your mitts. 

Mark does not move.

His system is shot. All the blood has been evacuated from his brain, he can hardly focus on regulating his breathing—nevermind the words coming out your mouth. “Sweetheart..?” You try, brow arching. “What happened? Are you hurt?” 

“No! I’m fine.” He is on fire. Every muscle in his body coils tight as his fight or flight malfunctions. He freezes.

He’s completely crashed.

Over two fucking words.

Mark is stock still for a second, rock hard dick trapped between his thigh and pants far too tight.

You’re taken aback by his abruptness and quiet for a moment. “Okaaay. Well. Are you going to move over, at least?” You have something like a laugh lodged in between your words, riding closely behind irritation as your eyes follow the rolling stream of water beneath his feet.

“Yes! Yeah, of course, sorry.” 

He doesn’t mean to whimper like a kicked puppy, adorned with shame and all, and Mark hates the way you fold for him. The way you reassure him. It’s fine, crooned in that same saccharine tone because you wholeheartedly give a shit about him. Which is the worst, because he does not deserve your concern. He does not deserve your daughter. He does not deserve you. Least of all your damn dinner.

He was right. He only wished he could’ve been happy about that. 

Mark feels your laser eyes biting into his back, scoring over his skin as he moves out of the mess he’s made.

“Thank you. Now, can you pass me the broom? It’s in front of you.” 

He presses his palm to his mouth and eats his sigh. “Of course,” The throbbing in his pants is growing more insistent by the second but he can’t look down. Can’t acknowledge it or it’ll become uncomfortably real. But it’s not like he can stand still forever. He walks forward and grabs the broom, quick as he turns and hands it to you. You’re not even looking at him, too busy making sure you’re not tracking water underfoot. “I’m so, so sorry.” He starts, but you wave him off, leaning the broom against the fridge as you kneel to sop up the water.

”I didn’t think you were the jumpy type.” You jibe, spritely even as you weave around glass splinter and shards, trying not to scrape your hardwood floor. “But it’s fine—it happens to me too. Sometimes shit breaks,” you shrug. “Pardon my french, but no point bitching about it! ” You chuckle. “I am definitely gonna bully you about it, though.” You really, really shouldn’t; he likes this pair of pants.

His shoulders loosen hesitantly, only to be agitated as he gauges the urgency of his real problem. He is tenting.

His jeans are more heavy duty than the suggestion you call clothing but it’s obvious if you know what to look for. The tautness in the material as his dick fills it out, darkening brought on by the precum crowning his tip.

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I just—got worked up.” That’s certainly a way of putting it. “I was worried about messing this whole thing up, but then I went and made a fool of myself anyway.  Real classy, me.”  He laughs as he scolds himself, scratching the back of his head. You don’t see him while you’re bent over, cleaning, but he’s sure as hell seeing you. His conscience hits him with quick onset shame, but there’s not enough blood circulating to his brain for it to keep up with his reservations; he ogles shamelessly.

He has to catch himself everytime he leans too far forward, but it can’t be helped. He has a premium seat at the theatre and the main feature is your panty line, the poor excuse for a thong that creeps down the cleft of your ass, dipping below the horizon of your cheeks.  He envies it.

“I had a feeling you might’ve been a little nervous,” Your voice snaps him out of his perv’s reverie.  “But don’t worry, I like you plenty Mark. ‘M not expecting you to roll over or jump through hoops to impress me. You’re not a dog.” you say, laughing, but you don’t know. 

You rise from where you were crouched on the floor and turn quicker than he was expecting, but it’s easy to play off his staring and meets you with a smile. It is returned. ”You’re good, right? Not wet or anything?” You give him a quick once over and he stops breathing. 

You don’t seem to find what you’re looking for, meeting his eyes once more. “Yeah,” he says when he finds his voice, “Not anything, I’m fine.” You nod, exhaling short through your nose as if to say okay. 

“Great.” You sigh, arms akimbo, as you look at the shattered glass, at the broom, then at Mark. “Come here.” 

Then you’re on top of him. Hugging him. Ruffling the hair on the back of his head, tits pushed up against his chest, hard nipples poking through your bra, hugging him. “Uh, Mrs. Bennett—”

“What’d I say about calling me that?” You pull back, holding his shoulders while he stands with all the confidence of a wet cat, looking bewildered, then bashful. “At least say Miss, it makes me feel younger.” You joke.

“Miss,” He can’t help but comply. “What uh, what are you doing?” You squeeze his arms. 

“...have you never been hugged before, Mark Grayson?” You tease, while he attempts to position his hips as far away from your anything as he can. “I’m doing the Mom thing, you know? Comforting you.” You can hardly keep your laughter in one second, and then the next you’re decadently soothing, voice barely above a whisper. 

“You didn’t embarrass yourself, okay? Mistakes happen. You’ll give yourself an aneurysm if you keep stressing about making a good impression. As far as I’m concerned, you’re already part of the family.” You snuggle into him, rubbing comforting circles on his back. He shudders at your touch. 

You’re just as soft as he imagined, just as plush and warm, but he can’t hug you back, not in his state. You won't let him go.

“I can feel it, you know?”

His heart sinks. “Uh? What’re you talking about?

“Your tension. You’re stiff as all hell, man. You were sorta makin’ me nervous, cause you wanna look like you’re being held hostage.” He briefly looks at the arms girding him, then back to your babydoll face.

Wow. You’re breathtaking. Pillowy lips, spiderwicked lashes, vibrant eyes. You smell softly of coconut, cocoa butter, vanilla, a hint of sweet almonds. 

“Just relax man. Deep breath in, deep breath out.” He complies as his compulsion demands of him, and he, regretfully, relaxes in your arms. He relaxes to the feel, sight, and smell of you.

You made him too comfortable. He let out a sigh, eyes closed as he draped himself over your shoulder.

“That’s it, big guy, just calm down.” You pat him gently. He returns the hug.

Mark knows when you feel it. He knows because it sends a nasty jolt through his entire body when you rub up against it. His body locks up and his eyes widen, mortified. He feels hot, the room almost set to spinning as his mind is overwhelmed; he startles himself, the tiniest groan escaping him, but that is not when you notice, no.

He doesn’t say anything. He just leaves it be, cock throbbing as he tries to wade through the bog of his thoughts, trying not to rock himself against you.

It’s only when you pull back that you see it. You had this half-smile on your face, hand propped on your hip, mouth open like you were about to speak and then,

you looked down.

On reflex. It was quick. Not even a half-a-second long. But then you double, triple take.

He wondered if you thought he was big, naturally, though the state of your face summed up everything you’d never say. The wide-eyed shock, inhale of breath, supple lips softly parted. Then confusion, a furrow in your brow, uncertainty as your eyes flick back to his burning face. A twinge of disgust, but it’s brief as you are quick to school your expression. 

He’s bigger than your husband, maybe, or you’re wondering if this dick has fucked your daughter.

(He’s wondering if you’d take it better.)

If there’s hunger in your eyes, he couldn’t read it. Hell, he honestly can’t look you in the eye long enough to try.

In reality, you’re only surprised his face is so red; you’d have thought all the blood went, well…

“Oh.” You step away from him and tuck your hands behind your back. Neither of you speak for a moment, his wide eyes blinking at your indecipherable expression. 

Then, you attempt to diffuse the tension. “Well.  I'm... sure it happens to the best of us, Mark. It’s no hard feelings, I mean!--” You seem to remember the broken glass then, the thing you should've looked at in the first place, and busy yourself begin cleaning it up.

He doesn't try to speak. The silence resumes.

Until eventually, you try again. “When I met my husband, he had an issue with getting ‘excited’ too, you know?” Around you? Color Mark unsurprised.  “It’s only natural, especially for young men your age! Don’t worry.”

 His face burns with shame, or is it irritation? If old boy’s not in the picture, then maybe he could…?

No, no, he’s getting ahead of himself again.

He eats up your sweetness, and his teeth rot alongside his dignity. “Amber’s not ready, so you can head up to the bathroom while I clean up in here and we never have to talk about it again.  It can be our little secret.” You didn’t have to whisper the last part. He swears you’re just mocking him now. 

“Really?” He heaves sighs like mountains, eyes wily as they connect with yours. “You won’t tell Amber?”

“Really really, Mark. I’m sure she can live without knowing…this,” You gesture to him with your palm and all five fingers. “Ever happened. Especially after last time, she’s probaby--” You touch on something you clearly didn’t mean to, cutting yourself off before heaping refuse into a cow-print pail. “Nevermind. Bathroom’s upstairs, second door on the left, sweetheart. There are some towels too, if you need to, um…?” You trail off. “Uh. Under the cabinet.”

“Okay—I’m gonna go now, if you don’t mind, thank you so much ma’am—” He stands and for some reason you’re not looking him in the eyes anymore. 

“It’s no problem Mark, none at all.” You smile, quickly turning to dump the glass in the trash as he heads out. You catch the back of his head out of the corner of your eye, and let go of the chuckle you were holding onto as soon as you think he’s gone. “...just make sure you don’t poke someone’s eye out with that thing.” 

He doesn’t know where his mind goes after that. He’s hardly walked down the hall and he’s already played it over in his head five times. He’s deluded, mind a broken record, cock trying to jump out his pants and it only gets worse the more your words play over in his head. He walks with great urgency, gait awkward as he skids to the far end of the hall and reaches the base of the staircase.

In the blink of an eye he’s at the top of the stairs and yet, he is not fast enough to miss your rose of a daughter. Amber looks surprised to see him. “You came up to find me?” She was just touching up her makeup by the looks of it, blush renewed, baby blue eyeshadow reapplied, that artificial cherry gloss he likes. He could smell it from a mile off.

“Yeah,” He lies reflexively, “You were kind of taking forever…we thought you got lost on the way back or somethin’.”  Amber sounds so carefree when she laughs. He notices now how her face crinkles a lot like yours does, those same dimples and smile lines feeling intimately familiar now that he’s basked in your presence. She does a little flourish for him, stepping between him and the washroom and posing a little. “So! How am I looking?” She pauses after she takes him in, his cheeks bleeding red, eyes flittering elsewhere.

“Mark, you feeling alright? You’re looking really… hot?” Mark blanks for a second thinking of what he ought to say before she glances down. Amber expression dwells somewhere between humored and pleasant as she stares, openly.

He is going to die.

“Uhh, I’m flattered Mark, but right now isn’t really the best time,” she laughs. He sees now where she gets her humor from. “I’ll make a mental note: deep necklines and low rise jeans got you whipped.” 

He has absolutely no rebuttal to that. You wear it better, though.

God that’s so fucked—

“I, uh-- I can explain,” He starts, but Amber holds her hand up, fingers curling around his outstretched hand. “No need.” He sighs in relief. “The bathroom’s behind me. I’ll be with Mom. I’ve been gone for way too long, she’ll start thinking I died or something.” She smiles and heads towards the stairs.

“Just—give me a few minutes. Don’t wait up.” Amber says something that’s muffled by the click of the bathroom door.

Finally.

He relaxes at the door, the roar in his mind quieted by the change in scenery.

Even the inside of your bathroom is cute. There is more bovine based decor bathed in warm yellow light. Everything from the soap dispenser to the rugs to the curtains are brown, beige, sand, pink or peach, and it smells utterly divine.

It’s that perfume you’re wearing. Mark should be concerned he has already committed that scent to memory but he’s all bloodhound, thrown caution to the wind, sense on overdrive as he follows the trail to its end, X tucked behind the curtain of your bathtub. 

…

It’s your underwear. He knows it’s yours on account of the cow spots. Not like he could imagine Amber in a number this racy anyway; the crotch is missing, blue frills lining the slit down the center and what he assumed were the leg holes. Modesty was certainly not something she inherited from you, he thinks, as he plucks this choice piece off the rack.

He has to hold it in both hands, feel the cotton under his thumb pad to believe it’s real. The fabric is soft to the touch. He can catch a whiff of the soap you used, the scent of your skin lingering just behind that. He’s not even holding you close and you’re still so potent it makes his eye twitch and head hurt.

He imagines you in them. The smooth plane of your ass filling it out, the squish of your skin under the tension of the elastic. 

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought, and yet…

…

Soon he’s slumped over your toilet seat, arm laid up on the tank as his hand darts down to his pants and undoes the clasp. “Fuuuuck me,“ He groans, some of the pressure relieved as his tent pitches up, freed and now angrily demanding his attention. With your panties in his left hand, he pulls his boxers down with the other, his cock smacking against his stomach with a dull smack. 

He knows he’s big but you must’ve done something to him, spiked his water, casted a spell, something, cause his tip is so red--so leaky, drooling and needy--and he’s soo fucking hard. His cock stands ramrod, twitching as he rubs the tip with a tentative index finger. He makes himself whimper, replaces index with his thumb, smearing his pre-cum in circles until he’s bold enough to curl his hand around the shaft. The slightest touch makes him buck, hips swinging upward as his balls clap against the back of his hand, his expression breaking off into a half dazed smile as his spine decompresses and his body begins to truly relax.

He goes slow, breath catching as he gets used to the feeling of doing this, relieving himself among your things, in your space, your fucking panties folded in his hand, but he can’t care. He can’t care when he feels this wired; can’t care when the feeling of his foreskin dragging back and forth, up and down, and it feels mind-numbing, a match to his skin. He happily burns.

Propriety is dead; all he can think about is you. The way you sung his name and praises. The way your ass looked so perky in jeans. The way your tits bounce with your gait.  “God,” he could cum just thinking about it. He’s already moaning, arm sliding up his shirt to cup his pec, the shlick, schlick of him hammering his fist filling the bathroom; he’s got a steady rhythm up and down his cock, his sensitivity feeling heightened from your affections. He’s still thinking about the way you looked at it.

The way your jaw dropped, mouth hung open like a proposition. If you’d get on your knees to clean up the mess he made, what else could he make you kneel for?

“fuck—”

You called him a good boy. 

Good boy? 

Mark Grayson was everything, anything, but.

He certainly did feel like a dog, though. Panting, half bent over himself and jerking his dick so hard his toes are curling. 

Mark gets himself worked up easily. When it smells like you, it’s easy to get lost in the fantasy, your precious hands wrapped around his fat dick and sucking it for all its worth. He wonders what kind of noise you make—if you suck just as sloppily as Amber. 

You seem like you’d have a tight throat. Tight pussy, too. Maybe he has to give it to you easy, treat you gentle and feed it in slow til’ you’re squeezing on his dick like a vicegrip and mewling for him.  Or maybe—

—maybe, he can just sliiiiiide right in. Fill you out all nice-like, leave you with a real good first impression. You would fit him like a glove, wet cunt soaking him to the bone.

And exactly how would he have you? There’s no shortage of options, just not enough time. You’d live your whole life and never know a moment of peace again, if he got his hands on you.

Then there’s your panties. He doesn’t even know what to do with them, having left them limply dangling between his hand and his thigh as he’s beside himself, because you linger in his bones like bad cold, all ice and teeth and biting. He breathes heat into the air as he lets his head fall back, pretending the tightness of his fist is as good as the inside of your pussy. He imagines the way your ass would squish against his hips when he pounds you from the back. His balls would slap against your clit so good, have your eyes rolling back, ecstasy running a live wire through you, set your system to shock.

He’d probably fold you in half, first, give it to you standing. Thinks about how easy it would be, to pull your hair, flip you around, bend you over. 

He wants to Fuck. You. Up.

You look like a moaner too. He can picture it, your tits smushed up against his chest as he gets your legs slung over his shoulders and breaks your back in.

He can hear the way you whimper out his name, stitched together from the bytes of you he’s stored in his memory. Mark has you wailing, whining, scratching your nails blunt on the flat of his back. 

You whisper his name in prayer. 

Mark. 

Mark. 

Mark.

MARK!—

He feels his balls tighten, just as a fist hammers against the door.

“Maaark!” 

He cums to the sound of Amber’s voice; you two sound so, so similar. Like your voice, too, it snaps him back to reality. He was wholly unprepared for this moment. He can’t stop cumming.

It shoots on to his tummy, thick white ropes of cum sticking to his abdomen before he can think to stop it, and Amber is still hammering on the door, could’ve been for the past five minutes and Mark could not have known. He can’t speak for a moment, throat dry and gummed together at the same time.

“...Mark?” The knocking softens. “Are you okay?”

His cock throbs in his hand as it pumps another load and his mind is stuff chock full of fuzz, vision spacey as he comes down from seeing stars. He can’t bask in the afterglow long, not to the sound of Amber knocking.  Mark’s eyes go wide as saucers, and his mind runs on instinct.

He reflexively wipes the cum off his stomach with your thong. His pupils dilate. Uh…

Guess he can’t take it back now. He cleans himself off, catching the rest of his mess in the sponge of fabric. 

The panties are properly soiled by the time he’s done.

Voice broken like he’d been crying (because he had shed a few tears), he calls back. “I’ll be out in a second.” The knocking stops and the voice on the other end sighs. “We thought you slipped and cracked your head dude; you’ve been gone for a cool 15. Unless you’re taking a-”

Mark opens the door. 

He’s looking pristine; zen, subtle smile breaking his nonchalant demeanor. He looks down at her, expectantly. “You gonna move over, or do I have to make you?” He jokes with a tilt of his head.

Amber quirks her lips at him, then backs up to give him space. He spills out of the bathroom and quickly closes the door behind him. 

“It always take you that long to freshen up?” Mark sucks his teeth as they begin to walk down the stairs. “You can’t talk. How long were you gone for again? Like thirty minutes? Just to put on blush?” She elbows him, giggling.

“It’s my house you dolt, I’ll go missing in it as long as I want.” They can laugh together, finally, and it surprises Amber, the first time she’s seen him unwound the whole night. “What kind of peptalk did you give yourself to make your little problem go away, huh?” She asks at the last second; he uses them crossing the threshold of your kitchen as an excuse to keep mum.

“Found him, ma!” Amber presents him as he takes a seat at this godforsaken table.

Dinner is just fine. Perfect, you could say. There’s a light in Mark’s eyes you haven’t seen all night, his conversation lively and engaging. No more yes ma’am, no ma’am; no ma’am at all for the rest of the night. 

That’s not to mention the food itself. It’s immaculate, meat fall-off-the-bone tender, beans seasoned and flavorful, garlic buttered bread so good it’s got his thighs squeezing together.

But he still can’t help but think:

You’d taste so much better.

FIN

Later…

Home.

At home, he can lock himself in his room and no nosy girlfriend will come knocking. 

At home he can kick his feet up, play with his balls and beat off to the thought of you without interruption. 

But it’s odd. He smells himself, the room around him. It smells like you still, somehow. Mark thinks he’s just caught on you, olfactory giving him false signals, but before he brushes it off as a red herring, he catches another whiff of you.

Then another.

And another,

Until he’s tearing up his room looking for the source of it. Until he finds himself staring at the pair of khakis he wore. Until he’s picking them up, and realizes the outside of the pocket looks greasy—or damp.

He slowly reaches in, revealing a sad, sad pair of panties, surely missing the ass that filled them out. At first he has the sensibility to be horrified, but while holding them, cum smeared and all, he sniffs. He stifles the little groan that slips from his lips. 

Yup, that’s you alright.

He looks around like he’s being judged by the shadows, the light filtering in through the curtains. 

He closes them.

The world shouldn’t have to bear witness to his depravity.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀all writtens are penned by ©️omniphilic !

thank you so much for reading! drink some water (cause ik you thirsty), remember to reblog, & stay tuned for more writing. comments, questions or thirsts? send it to my inbox or leave a note below!

[gimmethatagustd]

nectar | pjm

Humans have this annoying habit of being drawn to danger, and you’re having a hard time stopping yourself from sinking your teeth into your new roommate. You’re not sure what’s more tantalizing: his impossibly good looks or his seemingly innocent way of flirting with the darkest part of you.

Relationship: Human Jimin x Vampire Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Vampires, College/University, Roommates to lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Alcohol, Blood Drinking, Choking, Degradation Kink, Masturbation, Jimin Has a Pain Kink, Scratching, Slapping, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Sex, Vampire Bites

Word Count: 16,125

A/N: Pls enjoy what I think was my first vampire fic I ever wrote?? idk I can't remember shit

Soundtrack: Nectar - WayV

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ambrogio University had the bright idea to open its doors to humans. Having been a private university for vampires for five centuries, the controversial decision to end the admissions practice of denying humans was the university president’s final declaration before retiring. She had been known for operating from a far more inclusive mindset compared to previous presidents. But despite her charitable mindset, most current students, alumni, and staff were up in arms about the whole thing. Even a few trustees were ready to pull out of supporting the university (and many of them actually did). Not only was there a social shift on campus, but there was a sudden concern about the financial impact of opening the university’s doors to humans. 

Still, the efforts were underway with full force. A flood of humans were applying as first years, and even more were transferring from human-only universities. 

Which was how you ended up with a new human transfer student, Park Jimin, standing at the front door of your dorm with a backpack slung over his shoulder, a large cardboard box in his arms, and a suitcase at his feet. You’re sure he’d given you a proper greeting, but all you could focus on was his prominent Adam’s apple and his muscular neck. 

This shit was stupid. 

The university was running out of human-only dorms, the administration said. They had nowhere to put the influx of new students - aside from filling up vacant rooms. And it just so happened that you had a vacant room. Your old roommate’s parents pulled her out of the university once they learned that humans would be allowed in. You’d barely been in class for a week and she was gone. 

Although you had nothing against humans, you’d put up a fight before eventually giving in to having one live with you. It sounded like such a bad idea to bring non-vampires into what was supposed to be a safe haven. Were they just going to ignore the centuries of violence humans had inflicted on vampires? Or the controversial but true reality that some vampires simply had very little self control around other species? What was the university going to do if some human student got found sucked dry in the library? Vampires were still living on the outskirts of human society; any tragedy at the university would only push everyone’s efforts back decades. Maybe even centuries. 

None of your protests mattered, and the administration ultimately swayed you with the promise that they’d heavily discount your housing fees if you roomed with a human. 

You had to sign a rather lengthy contract before being paired with the human. No harassment or discriminatory behavior against the human. No biting the human. No drinking the human’s blood, regardless of source or method. No hypnotizing or using any other form of supernatural powers against the human. No turning the human into a vampire. The list of rules went on and on. You presumed the humans had their own version of the contract to sign, but you had yet to ask anyone about it. And because you were a born vampire rather than a turned vampire, you had to undergo a short training to learn the basic functions of a human, though most of the training was merely a reiteration of the contract rules and didn’t really provide any useful information. 

What seemed like the most important thing to remember was that humans were fragile, unbelievably so. And they were stupid, so they didn’t understand just how fragile they really were. 

Your new roommate looked like he was probably the stupid kind of human. You watched him with your arms crossed against your chest, your dark maroon hawk eyes cataloging his features as he stood in the doorway. He was pretty, much prettier than the humans you’d ever interacted with, which admittedly wasn’t many. Aside from the allure of his neck, he had suggestively plump lips and sharp eyes that were overpowered by his puffy cheeks when he smiled. Despite his lean, muscular body, there was a softness to him that only added to your belief that he was stupid. Softness in humans was dangerous, and this kid clearly didn’t realize how vulnerable he was. 

“Hi, I’m Jimin,” he said, raising his shoulders in a greeting since his hands were too full to wave. There were the puffy cheeks coming out. You hated how cute he was. 

“You smell like sweat,” you replied, dropping your arms to your side. There were a few other things the training had insisted you do with your new human. One of which was to attempt to make yourself as humanlike as possible, as to make your human more comfortable in his new environment. Which was, again, stupid, but you supposed it wouldn’t kill you to force yourself to walk at a humanlike speed and not drink bottled blood while you lounged in the living room where he could see.

By the way the human’s eyes grew wide you figured your comment probably wasn’t a very human thing to say. 

Oh well. 

“I’ve been carrying heavy things and it’s really hot outside…” the human mumbled, but you were already heading down the hallway. He quickly followed you, awkwardly dragging his suitcase behind him as he went. 

“Unfortunately, we have to share a bathroom, but there should be enough room for you to put your stuff in the cabinets.” You gestured toward the bathroom door and continued down the hall, briefly stopping at a closed door. “That’s my room. Don’t go in there.” 

You tossed a look over your shoulder to narrow your eyes at Jimin. He audibly gulped and nodded his head. 

“Good. And this is your bedroom.” You stopped in front of the door, standing to the side so Jimin could enter. You watched him take in his surroundings, trying not to stare too much at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed. He brushed his blonde bangs away from his forehead and you could see the sweat that had accumulated from the late-summer humidity outside. 

“Do you need water?” you asked tentatively, eyes narrowed as you waited for his response. When humans sweat, they need water, right?  

“Oh yes, please!” Jimin sat his luggage down and followed you like a little puppy back to the front of your dorm where the living room and kitchen were. 

“I don’t really have a lot of dishes,” you admitted, handing him a glass. “I don’t need them, so…” You weren’t sure if it was against best practices to talk about your diet with your human, but it was bound to come up eventually. 

If Jimin was put off, he didn’t give any reaction. He simply guzzled down his water and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching you expectantly. It was annoying. 

“They told me they built a dining hall for… humans.” The word fell from Jimin’s lips awkwardly, as if he’d never said the word human before. “Do you think the food is good or should I probably just make my own food? The college I transferred from had really shitty food.” 

You stood there for a moment, staring at him blankly. He was joking, right? 

“I’ve never had it, so I don’t know.” 

His eyes grew wide for a moment, but he quickly let them fall back to normal again and simply nodded his head. 

“Right.” 

The two of you stared at each other for much longer than you were comfortable with. Jimin leaned against the kitchen counter and shamelessly watched you, never looking away when you caught his gaze. 

“You never told me your name,” he said with a small smile, as though he thought you were being forgetful and cute. 

“They didn’t tell you who you were rooming with?” 

The human shook his head.

“I’m Y/N.” It seemed pretty dumb of him to agree to live with someone you didn’t have any information on, but you reminded yourself that you’d done the same thing… 

“How old are you?” 

Your eyebrows shot up at his sudden question and you blinked a few times in surprise. “What, do you think I’m from the 1800s or some shit? Some ancient freak?” 

“No! I just, I was just wondering,” he stuttered, lips sticking out in a nervous pout. You could hear his heartbeat increase slightly. 

“I’m twenty-two. Shocking, huh?” You took a step towards Jimin and his heart picked up again. With narrowed eyes, you leaned into his personal space, close enough to see your own reflection in his eyes. How funny. 

“You humans watch Twilight and suddenly think you’re experts.” As you spoke you watched Jimin’s eyes land on your mouth, likely noticing your elongated canines for the first time. “Don’t believe everything you see on TV, kid. It might get you into trouble.” 

You took a step back and allowed Jimin some space to breathe because you noticed he’d stopped at some point in your little interrogation. Definitely didn’t want your human passing out on his first day. You were sure the university administration would hate that. 

“Gimme your phone.” 

“What?” Jimin eyed you curiously. 

“Gimme your phone.” You held out your hand impatiently. “Roommates need to have each other’s numbers. Didn’t you have a roommate at your old college?” 

“Yeah, but he…” 

You didn’t need Jimin to finish his sentence. You knew what he was going to say. But he wasn’t a vampire. 

With a huff you snatched his phone out of his hand, quickly inputting your number before handing it back. “Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. I hate talking on the phone.” 

Jimin nodded quickly, hopefully learning that he would be better off keeping his mouth shut. 

“Good. I gotta go to class, but uh, make yourself at home.” 

You were going to regret this. 

🩸

As it turned out, surprisingly, Jimin was a pretty chill roommate. After everything you’d heard about humans growing up, you’d thought he would require a lot more work. Thankfully, he was rather self-sufficient. He spent most of his time in the library, not that you knew that; all you were going off of was what he’d told you. And when he was at your dorm, he didn’t require much out of you. The main thing that you could really live without was his incessant questions. 

“Do you care if I use garlic? Garlic powder?” 

You lifted your head from where you laid sprawled out on the living room couch, pillow tucked under your arm and a Nat Geo special about King Tut on the TV. You could see Jimin standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open. 

“Excuse me?” 

Jimin turned to look at you, a soft pout forming on his face that could only be explained by his desire to be accommodating for you, despite having no idea what he was fucking talking about. 

“Well, is it true that vampires don’t like garlic?” He brushed his bangs out of the way and looked into your eyes from across the room. Unlike the other humans scurrying around the university, intimidated by their vampire peers, Jimin met your gaze with no hesitation or timidness. It was odd. 

“No. That’s a myth,” you said with a sigh, plopping down on your pillow. Jimin had thrown these types of stereotypical questions your way at least three times a day. Initially it had pissed you off, but he was slowly starting to wear you down. It was hard to get mad when he looked at you with such soft eyes, lips slightly parted, a look of earnestness on his face as though you were going to give him forbidden knowledge.  

If anything, the worst part was him simply existing. You’d never spent so much time with a human in such close proximity before. You’d assumed after the first few days you’d get used to the sound of his heart, the smell of his skin, the way you could see his pulse in his neck when he was hunched over his textbooks at the kitchen table. 

Yet here you were, weeks later, subconsciously licking your lips as you watched him watch you. 

Jimin let out a small hmm and turned back to the grocery list he was making. Assuming the conversation was over, you turned back to your show and settled deeper into the blanket you had wrapped around you. 

“Is it true that vampire bites feel good?” 

Jimin migrated to the living room and dared to sit down on the other end of the couch you were lying on. The close proximity genuinely startled you, although you refused to let it show. You’d never been so close to him, and for good reason. Everything about his smell and the pumping of his veins inside his body was enhanced the closer he got to you. You could feel your own breathing hitch, and you quickly sat up.  

“Who told you that?” you asked him slowly, tongue heavy in your mouth. 

Jimin shrugged, leaning his head back slightly to run his fingers through his blonde locks. The action exposed his neck slightly, making his Adam’s apple more prominent. “I’ve just heard people say that.” 

You stared at him for a long time, unsure of how you should approach the question. The training your university had provided hadn’t addressed anything like this. 

“It can… depending on the situation.” 

“Like what?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why do you want to know this shit all of a sudden?” 

“It’s not all of a sudden.” Jimin gave you a smile that reached his eyes. He brought up his legs to cross them on the couch. “I’m just curious. I’ve never had a vampire friend before.” 

Friend. He thought you were friends. Cute. Unrealistic, but cute.

“Getting bitten hurts like hell, obviously. It’s pointy bones stabbing into your flesh,” you said with an exasperated sigh. You drew your knees against your chest and wrapped your arms around them. “But the… venom in our… fangs… makes the experience feel pleasurable after the initial pain. I think scientists say it’s like being high or something.” 

You didn’t like the panicky feeling in your chest as you shared what felt like deep, dark secrets with an outsider. The thing was that a simple Google search could tell him everything he wanted to know.

You could practically see the gears turning in Jimin’s head as he reflected on what you’d explained. It made the anxiety in you heighten, and you felt the need to add a disclaimer to your words, “But some vampires are really sadistic. They like to make it hurt.” 

Why you thought you needed to protect him was beyond you. Maybe because you thought he was dumb. And you didn’t like the way your peers eyed him in the halls like he was something to eat. 

“Some humans don’t mind a little pain.” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. What the fuck? Was Jimin alluding to something or was he merely playing devil’s advocate? 

He bit his bottom lip and you saw his eyes roam your face, which you quickly tried to make neutral and expressionless. It was too late, though. The tiniest of smirks lifted up the corner of Jimin’s mouth. 

“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been bitten by another vampire,” you said with a glare, but you were lying through your teeth. Your last ex-boyfriend had been… weird, to say the least. Not that Jimin needed to know that. 

You quickly stood up, gathering your blanket and phone. “End of discussion. Some things are better not knowing,” you said with a sharp look at Jimin, but his smirk had disappeared. In its place was a soft pout and his puppy eyes gazed up at you with a look of innocence your mind could hardly comprehend. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said gently, standing up. He reached out to run his fingers along your forearm. “I like talking to you. You make me feel less different.” 

His hand was warm against your deathly cold skin and if you still had a working heart you knew it would be hammering to get out of your chest. A human had never touched you before. 

“Uh… I’m happy I could be of service,” you spoke barely above a whisper, looking away from Jimin’s gaze. Now you were the one sounding stupid. 

“I’m going to the store, but if you need anything, let me know!” And with that Jimin headed back to the kitchen to retrieve his grocery list and jacket. Even after the front door was shut and locked, you couldn’t look away from where Jimin had been. What the fuck had just happened? 

🩸

“Sooooooo, are you really gonna make me ask?” 

You let out a long sigh and leaned back into your friend’s couch. Although you knew she hated when you did it, you propped your feet on the coffee table in front of you, ankles crossed. At least you weren’t wearing shoes, right? 

“I have nothing to report.” 

“Y/N, shut the fuck up and tell me how things are going. It’s been weeks and you still haven’t told me anything.” 

“Well, Nikki, if I shut the fuck up, then I won’t be able to tell you anything, will I?”

Nikki gave a loud huff and pretended like she was going to throw her beer bottle at you. Being doused in blood-based beer wasn’t pleasant, and you knew from experience. One too many vampire-only music festivals over the summer and it’d do it to you. 

You brought your own bottle to your lips, grimacing as you swallowed. You couldn’t understand why you drank this shit. 

“It’s been weird, that’s how it’s been. He won’t stop following me around, asking me stupid questions.” 

“You might be being too hard on him. Ever thought about that?” Nikki cocked her head to the side and gave you a scolding look. “He’s new! To a new school and a totally different environment than he’s used to. Maybe he has never even met a vampire before.” 

“Oh, trust me, he hasn’t. I can just tell.” Your nose scrunched up at your recollection of a few choice questions he’d thrown at you in the few weeks you’d known him. 

“How?”

“Well, let’s see. He asked me how old I was the first day. Yesterday he asked me if it hurt when I got turned, and then when I explained that I was born, he barely disguised his look of disgust.”

“Are you sure it was disgust? Maybe it was just shock? Most humans don’t know vampires can have children.” 

You narrowed your eyes at Nikki. “You asked me to tell you what’s been going on and I’m telling you.”

“Okay, okay.” Nikki raised her hands up in surrender and nestled into the armchair she was sitting in, beer clasped between her slender hands. 

There were a lot of reasons why Nikki was your best friend, but one major reason was because the two of you were the only born vampires in your friend group. The rest had been turned at various stages of their lives, but you and Nikki had been born with the curse, only becoming immortal once you turned twenty and had your first taste of human blood. If humans thought getting a period for the first time was a major life milestone, a born vampire’s first meal was akin to a spiritual awakening. You and Nikki had attended each other’s ceremonies, and you were sworn with blood magic to never speak of it to anyone but the people who were there. 

Shit like that bonded people a lot more than explaining how to put in a tampon. 

“I guess it could be worse. He’s nice, at least. And he listens to me when I tell him what to do.” 

Nikki snorted. “Of course. Obedience. Your favorite quality in a man.”

“And so few have it in them,” you matched your friend’s snort. “Y’know, maybe I should keep this little human around. He could be useful.” 

“Oh, for what, pray tell?” 

“Pray tell? You need to stop hanging out with Jin’s 400-year-old ass. He’s got you talking like a weirdo.” 

“Leave me alone! You’re the one wanting a henchman to do your evil bidding.” 

“Do you think I could convince him to do my homework?”

Nikki rolled her eyes and tilted her head to knock back the rest of her beer. That would mark bottle number four, at least. She was in her “off” part of her on-and-off relationship, which meant lots of shitty beer and gossiping and crying and doing other emotional things you weren’t a fan of. 

“I think that sounds very high school, but maybe? If he’s smart.” 

You gave Nikki a nod, but let the conversation fall flat. Your roommate wasn’t smart at all, at least not when it came to street smarts. He definitely seemed like an academic genius, though. He’d gotten a massive scholarship and he was studying to become a doctor of some sort… not your thing as a History major. There was one night you’d gotten home rather late, and you’d found him asleep in the living room, the coffee table stacked with large textbooks and notes with science-y things you didn’t understand. How was he not even a month into school and already up to his ears in work? 

You also weren’t ready to admit how you’d gotten used to having his little pouty face around. It was the way he sung to himself as he cooked, using the spatula as a microphone and gliding his feet along the tile in a cute little dance. Or how you’d woken up to him tucking you in with your favorite blanket when you’d fallen asleep on the couch, never scared to approach you despite the horrible things you’d heard humans say about vampires. 

“When are you going to introduce us?” Nikki’s absurd question pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Excuse me? Why would you need to meet him?” 

Nikki leaned towards you from her seat, her dark eyes shining red in the dim lighting of her living room. “Am I just never going to go to your dorm ever again? Obviously I have to meet him at some point!” 

You frowned and Nikki let out a laugh of victory, knowing that you had no comeback to fight her sound logic. 

“What does he look like? Show me a pic.” She made grabby hands at your phone, which you held tightly against your chest. 

“I don’t have any pictures of him, what the fuck.” 

Nikki eyed you for the hopeless case that you were and settled for pulling out her own phone. “Park… Jimin…” she muttered to herself as she typed. You saw her long index finger swipe up the phone and you fought your urge to get up to see what she was doing. 

“Is this him?” Nikki held her phone out to you, revealing an Instagram account. She’d brought up the most recent photo posted. 

“Uhhh… yeah. He must have just dyed his hair ‘cause he definitely didn’t look like that this morning.” 

“Ooh, he’s cute, Y/N. You failed to mention that in all your complaining,” Nikki giggled, bringing her phone back to her face to continue scrolling. “An account called oppa_pics liked this? He got over a thousand likes in two hours? And holy fuck, his neck… Y/N, his neck is… gorgeous. Like, he literally put it on display.” 

“Let me see,” you reached for Nikki’s phone, but she swatted at your hand. 

“Use your own phone. I’m looking to see if he has any thirst traps.” 

You didn’t want to use your phone because then that would mean that you went out of your way to learn more about the man living with you. No matter how thick his neck was and how soft his lips looked, you wanted to avoid crossing the line into friendship. It would be easier to ignore your growing interest in him if you blocked him out of your mind. 

“I wonder who Imani Harris is… maybe his girlfriend? She comments on, like, all his photos,” Nikki spoke mostly to herself as she scrolled through the rest of Jimin’s Instagram. You opted to scroll through TikTok instead, trying to fight your sudden curiosity in whatever girl was thirsting after your roommate on his socials.  

A sudden squeal from Nikki had you covering your sensitive ears. “What the fuck, Nik?” 

“Y/N, he has so many shirtless pics if you scroll down to last summer. Look at his abs. Look at them.” Nikki was back to shoving her phone in your face. 

It was hard to deny the fact that your new roommate was hiding a killer body beneath his loose-fitting hoodies and joggers. If the hills and valleys of his abdomen weren’t enough, he had a tattoo across his ribs as well. 

“I thought humans weren’t supposed to look like that…” Nikki bit her thumb, her fangs gleaming. “He’s so fit… God, his neck, Y/N. Does he really look like that in real life? How the fuck are you living with that?” 

“Don’t you think it’s kinda stupid? He goes to a vampire university, Nikki. And he’s showing himself off like a fucking snack. Literally.” You pressed your lips tight against each other and gave Nikki a hard look. She slowly released her thumb and tucked her phone away, giving you a weak smile. 

“Sorry. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a human I’ve wanted to both fuck and murder so strongly.” 

“Wow, not the “M” word,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. “This is exactly why they shouldn’t have even let humans in here in the first place. And why I didn’t want you to meet him.” 

“I’m not going to do anything to him!” Nikki protested. “I mean, nothing he wouldn’t want me to do…” The mischievous grin flashed for a moment, but it died on her lips when she watched you swing your feet off the coffee table and stand up. 

You grabbed your half-empty beer bottle to pour out and toss in the trash. “I gotta go. I’m exhausted.” 

“Okay… If you need anything, let me know? All jokes aside, I know this is a hard transition for you.” Nikki stood to wrap her arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a firm but caring embrace. 

“Don’t worry about me, Nik. You know I’m chill.” You flashed her a peace sign and slipped through her front door. The moon was full and centered in the sky as you walked home, casting an eerie light that wavered in the humid air. You were, in fact, chill. But this human might possibly be what made you snap. 

And you were going to snap a lot sooner than you’d initially thought. 

You swung the front door to your dorm open, kicked off your sneakers, and rounded the corner to the living room. Despite only having a beer and a half compared to Nikki’s four, you’d been drinking on an empty stomach and the alcohol really hit you harder than expected. So at first you thought you were going crazy when you heard not one, but two pounding heartbeats echoing through the apartment in a symphony of chaos. 

That is, until you laid your eyes on your living room couch. 

You’d certainly have enough to report back to Nikki, now. Jimin was sitting on the couch, shirtless and wearing a pair of joggers. He had his head leaned against the back of the couch to expose the smooth, milky skin of his neck. 

You swallowed thickly, mouth hanging open slightly as your hungry eyes followed the length of his neck to find a pair of lips sucking one of many hickeys on his throat. 

The girl straddling Jimin’s lap was someone you’d never seen before, which wasn’t surprising since she was human. Both straps of her sundress were pushed down her shoulders and the hem of the dress was hiked up her thighs. Jimin’s hands were hidden beneath the girl’s dress, but you could tell that he was gripping her ass to guide her as she started grinding into his crotch. 

You watched Jimin’s plump lips part and you heard the softest of whines come from his mouth. You couldn’t breathe. Not that you even needed to, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. 

So, maybe it was your fault because you didn’t have the talk with Jimin yet, but you’d also assumed he wouldn’t be bringing anyone over to your dorm after being at school for less than a month. Not with that baby face. Who was wanting to fuck Park Jimin? Puffy cheeks and pouty lips? Maybe if they liked looking at bambi eyes during sex, you scoffed to yourself. 

The girl pulled away from Jimin’s neck, likely to kiss him instead, and that was enough to break the spell you’d fallen under. Now you were bubbling hot with frustration at your new little roommate getting his freak on in the fucking living room when he had a whole ass bedroom he could’ve locked himself in. 

“Having fun?” You snickered, arms crossed against your chest. You enjoyed the way the girl’s eyes grew wide as she looked up at you, scrambling to fix her dress. You gave her a sickeningly sweet smile as she fumbled with a pathetic attempt at an apology. You were finding that there was nothing more entertaining than watching the fear spike through humans’ eyes when their gaze landed on your fangs. 

You ignored Jimin, not interested in dealing with him quite yet. 

“I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry,” the girl stuttered, avoiding your gaze as she reached for her shoes. 

“I, I, I don’t care,” you mocked her, the smile still maintained. “Get out of my dorm. And if you’re gonna let him rail you in the future, do it in your own fucking house or at least in his bedroom, aight? Not on my couch where I fucking watch Disney+.” 

Your straightforwardness clearly shocked the girl because she rushed past you immediately without so much as a glance in Jimin’s direction. You didn’t give a fuck if she was some random hookup or his girlfriend, as Nikki had suggested Jimin might have one. You were tired and grumpy and fed up with talking about Jimin all day long. 

Once you heard the front door slam shut, you turned your attention to your little human who still sat with his legs spread on the couch, torso still exposed. 

You did your best to ignore the bright red spots on his neck where the blood vessels had been ruptured. Hickeys were like the X on a treasure map. Little splotches calling out to you, a reminder of just how easy it would be to sink your teeth- 

“Y/N.” Jimin gazed up at you with hooded eyes, his lips pink and even more swollen from kissing. His typically sweet voice dropped an octave or two, and the unfamiliar gruffness with which he spoke your name shot heat straight to your thighs. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.” 

A loud snort was the response you gave him as you attempted to calm yourself down. Where was the timid, baby-faced roommate of yours? Who followed you around like a bumbling idiot, both terrified of you and clinging to your every word? The man you saw before you was more of a stranger than regular Jimin, with an air of cockiness that radiated from his body in heatwaves. And if you thought his hickeys and fuck-me eyes were too much to deal with, you were in for an even bigger surprise when your eyes fell to catch sight of the outline of his erection in his pants. 

Fucking hell. 

You turned quickly, marching straight for your bedroom. It didn’t matter that you were still hungry, and all your bottled blood was in the kitchen. There was no fucking way you were going to walk past your roommate a second time. 

“Y/N, wait,” Jimin called after you hoarsely. 

You heard him start to follow you, but you reached your bedroom first. You closed the door quickly and locked it behind you. With your back against the door, you slowly slid down until you were sitting on the floor, a hand slapped over your mouth as you struggled to stop yourself from panting. Your mind was reeling with the sound of Jimin’s heart pounding in his chest. You listened to him walk away from your room, heard his own bedroom door open and shut. You focused on inhaling through your mouth and exhaling through your nose as silently as you could to regulate your breathing. 

Why was Jimin’s heart beating even faster? He was in his own room now; you’d hoped the distance between the two of you and the entire situation would help him calm down. Yet somehow it was getting worse. 

This is exactly why living with humans was a bad fucking idea. 

Frantically looking around the room, your eyes locked on your headphones. You stood to grab them off your desk when another sound mixed with Jimin’s heartbeat stopped you in your tracks. 

“Fuck…” 

You heard a soft moan, followed by a wet squelching sound that repeated in a slow but steady rhythm. He was fucking masturbating, and your hypersensitive hearing was forcing you to indulge in every little detail. On top of that, you could hear his breathing pick up, heavy sighs that flowed from his mouth to the back and forth rhythm you knew his hand was making along his cock. 

Which, based on what you’d seen, was massive. 

For a moment you stood there, eyes fluttering closed as you listened to the symphony of filth coming from Jimin’s bedroom. It was impossible for your body and mind to know what to latch onto: the way you could practically feel his blood coursing through his veins or the sound of him messily pumping away at himself. Or maybe the fight was between the hollow feeling in your stomach from not eating since lunch and the heat that was climbing up your neck and down your thighs the longer you stood there.

Shaking your head furiously, you rushed to put the headphones in your ears and choose literally any song on your phone that was loud enough to drown out what you were experiencing. With your headphones secured, you laid down in your bed with your eyes shut, putting all your mental energy into the loud song you had on repeat, thankful that you could no longer hear Jimin.

🩸

You liked to think that you were a responsible person. Although you weren’t always a rule-follower, you knew when to take shit seriously and had little patience for stupidity. Which was why when you finally opened your eyes the next morning, you felt a spike of fear stab into the middle of your chest. 

You shot out of bed, chest heaving and shuddering with every gasp of air, head swiveling around the room like it was barely screwed onto your neck. The headphones you’d worn throughout the night were tossed onto the floor beside your bed, along with your t-shirt and shorts. You vaguely remembered peeling off your clothes in the middle of the night after sweating so profusely they’d become uncomfortable plastered onto your skin. 

There was that sound again… the sound you’d almost gotten used to before Jimin had fucked it all up again. Jimin’s heartbeat, pitter pattering away in the kitchen as though it wasn’t the bane of your existence. You ground your teeth together, one fang nicking your bottom lip hard enough to draw a tiny bit of blood, and tried to pull yourself together. 

Jimin sat at the kitchen table with one knee pulled up against his chest in his chair, munching on pancakes he’d made for himself. Saliva gathered along your tongue, and it wasn’t because of the heavenly smell of warm butter and maple syrup. 

“Good morning!” Jimin’s smile was pushing his cheeks into his eyes, but his cheerfulness quickly disappeared as he met the gaze of your bright red eyes. You couldn’t look into a mirror to see yourself even if you wanted to, but it didn’t take a mirror to know that you looked fucking deranged. Bedhead a mess, eyeliner from the day before smeared, a deep grimace etched into your face. This was the first time Jimin was seeing you with hungry eyes unnaturally red, pupils dark pinpoints in the middle of your irises. It wasn’t a pretty sight, that was for sure. And it wasn’t meant to be. It was a warning, to yourself and anyone who crossed your path: it had been too long since you’d fed. 

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you growled, fingers wrapping around the refrigerator handle. You were being harsh, but you felt you couldn’t be responsible for what you did in a state like this. It was hard enough to ignore the violent urge to attack Jimin in the middle of the kitchen, bright and early on a fine Saturday morning. 

“Y/N…” Jimin called out to your back. “Are you okay?” 

You spun around to face Jimin. “Do I fucking look okay?” you hissed.

If Jimin was scared of you, he certainly was doing an amazing job at hiding it. He was looking at you with an odd mix of fascination and… something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His bright eyes were wide and he watched you with his lips slightly parted. His tongue darted out to run along his bottom lip, and you saw his eyes sweep over your body for a moment. 

“You don’t have any more… blood left.” 

You almost didn’t hear what he said, your eyes locked on the way his lips parted and his tongue touched his teeth as he spoke that word and the way he swallowed hard once he finished speaking. 

The burning in your chest pulled you out of your hungry stupor and you turned from Jimin to fling the refrigerator open. No bottles of your favorite prepackaged blood drinks, humanely sourced from human donors sympathetic for the vampires’ curse (or desperate for some easy cash). Not a single one. Not even an animal-based blood beer. 

“Motherfucker.” How had you forgotten to stock up? 

If Jimin was smart, he’d have left already. You weren’t erratic, but you certainly weren’t in the best of moods. The idea of having to haul your ass all the way to the dining hall to retrieve your blood rations across campus was less than ideal. Maybe you could have Nikki or Jin bring you some; they only lived a few resident halls down.

You were ripped out of your thoughts by Jimin’s sudden presence. He leaned against the kitchen counter, carding his fingers through his fluffy pink hair. Reaching the back of his head, he let his hand run along his neck, over his collarbones, and then fall to his side once more. 

“What?” You glared. You didn’t like how Jimin had a habit of just looking at you. For someone who loved running his mouth with questions, he certainly sat with his mouth hanging open and nothing coming out at the most inconvenient of times. 

“You can drink my blood.” 

“What?!” you repeated, coughing out of shock. “Jimin, what the fuck?” 

He looked at you through hooded eyes like he had the night before, and you remembered the whole reason why you hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. 

“I give you permission to drink my blood.” He took a step towards you. The syrup on his breath was sugary and domestic, something you knew to be comforting in human culture, but that you had never gotten to experience before.  

“You have no fucking idea what you’re saying,” you hissed, backing up. But Jimin only pressed on. 

“Let me help you.” His voice was soft and gentle, alluring even.   

The temptation was so strong you felt as though your body and your soul were pulling each other in opposite directions, ripping at the seams. Fuck, he would taste so good. You knew it. 

“Stop it.” You pressed your hands against his chest, holding him at arm’s length. “It’s against the rules. And I will hurt you.” Let’s not pay attention to how firm he felt under your fingers. Let’s not focus on the fact that you knew firsthand what was underneath that baggy t-shirt. 

There was too fucking much going on. 

“I don’t care,” Jimin encouraged, lips falling into a pout, though his eyes still burned into yours with an intensity that made you shiver. You, the monster. 

Your eyes fell to his throat and you wondered if he purposefully swallowed. 

“I…” you breathed heavily, eyes finding Jimin’s once again. You could feel your resolve weaken, and somehow Jimin could sense it. He leaned into your hands, causing your elbows to bend and allowing him to get even closer. 

“I know you want to,” he whispered, your chests now almost touching. “I saw the way you looked at me last night.” 

Fuck. 

You shook your head, but you didn’t make any effort to push Jimin away. You could, if you wanted to. You were naturally twice as strong as him, if not more than that. And yet you just watched as he tilted his head for you, his breathing becoming airy and shallow. 

At that moment there was a loud knock at the door. You’d been so distracted by Jimin that you hadn’t noticed the sound of anyone approaching your dorm. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered, finally shoving Jimin away from you. He had the audacity to look upset, but you were already trying to block the entire interaction out of your brain. 

You stood on your toes to look into the peephole and let out a low groan once you saw who was standing outside your door. 

“Nikki, what the fuck?” You pried the door open enough to poke your head out. “What do you want?” 

“I texted you multiple times - wait, oh my god, Y/N, did you get breakfast yet?” Her eyes lit up with fear, and her hands reached out to touch your cheek, finally noticing your red eyes. You shook away the physical affection. 

“I’m about to leave now. Can you go with me?” You didn’t want to make the trek alone and you needed someone to make sure you didn’t get left with Jimin any longer. 

“Of course,” Nikki nodded, concern still warping her features. “Can I come inside?” 

“If you came over to get a look at Jimin…” 

“No! I swear, I was coming to see if you wanted to go to the dining hall. I swear.” You didn’t believe her, but you had no choice but to let her in. You were still wearing your sweaty pajamas. 

“Don’t do anything stupid. I got issues with him today.” You knew Nikki would want more information than just that, but you weren’t ready to admit anything fully. 

Jimin was still leaning against the kitchen counter, though he meandered into the living room when Nikki plopped onto the couch. 

“Good morning,” he said politely, that classic smile turning his eyes into half moons. “I’m Jimin.” How the fuck had he turned back into the sweet boy with puffy cheeks and a toothy grin in a matter of seconds? 

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.” 

You watched Nikki’s eyes investigate Jimin from head to toe and back again, before matching his sweet demeanor by introducing herself, as well. There was no denying the interest she was taking in him; you’d have to remind her later that she technically had a boyfriend. The less time the two of them spent alone together, the better. 

Speeding through a shower, you didn’t bother to do anything with your hair or makeup, just opting to slip into jeans and a clean t-shirt. You weren’t the type to care much about your appearance, unless you were doing something important. And even then, you dressed for yourself more than for anyone else. 

Right now, you were concerned about not starving to death or attacking your psychopathic roommate. The way you looked mattered very little. 

“Oooh, I would love for you to teach me sometime,” Nikki cooed. 

“Let me know when you’re free and we can meet up.” 

You could just tell from Nikki’s voice that she had that dreamy look on her face that she got when she was trying to lure in someone she thought was cute. You came around the corner to see Jimin and Nikki sitting a bit too close together for your liking. The twinge in your gut wasn’t a feeling you were very pleased to experience, and you didn’t want to unpack the jealousy causing your chest to heat up. What the fuck was there to be jealous about? You’d gladly let Jimin be someone else’s problem. 

“Teach you what?” You shot Nikki a suspicious look and she gave you an awkward smile. 

“Did you know that Jimin dances? No wonder he’s got killer-” 

“Great! Let’s go before the dining hall closes for the morning, aight?” You snatched Nikki’s forearm and pulled her from the couch. 

“Bye Jimin!” Nikki waved at the boy, practically swooning over the grin he sent her way as you slammed the front door closed between them. 

“Y/N, he’s so precious, why do you act like he’s the devil?” Nikki clasped her hands together, the dreamy look still clouding her vision. You ignored her question and draped an arm over her shoulder to guide her towards food. 

“He’s not as innocent as he pretends to be,” you said with a tight frown. You thought you were good at reading people, but Jimin was throwing you for a loop. 

“Did something happen?” 

You shook your head, stepping into the warm air outside. Another great myth debunked; vampires could be in the sun for short spurts of time without any issue. You loved the mornings when the sun’s rays weren’t overbearing and you could absorb the rays with no fear of your energy being drained. 

“Y/N, you can tell me.” 

You sighed, knowing you shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. “He brought some girl over and they were all over each other in the living room. It was just annoying.” 

“Boys are gross.” Nikki sniffed the late-summer air, sensing the impending arrival of autumn. 

You felt a pinch of guilt mix with all the other fucked up emotions swirling around in your stomach, but you couldn’t bring yourself to spill it all to Nikki. Though you weren’t sure why. Ever since the two of you had met freshman year, you’d been inseparable. You knew Nikki told you everything. You were the one being a bitch. 

“Yeah… they are.” 

🩸

Living with Jimin for almost a month was enough time for you to figure out his schedule. That meant that it was easier for you to avoid him after your little situation in the kitchen. It had been a few days and you still hadn’t seen or spoken to him, purposefully waking up before he did and coming home after you knew he would be in bed. You were still attempting to process what had happened. Was Jimin attempting to reach the high that came with a vampire bite, like some kind of drug? Did he want to become a vampire? 

You’d heard of humans who were into that kind of shit, like fetishes or being a genuine junkie for the twisted pleasure vampires could sometimes provide. The possibilities made you shiver, and you couldn’t help but think back to the way he’d immediately gone into his room to finish off what he’d started with the girl he’d brought over. Or the way he clearly enjoyed her sucking on his neck. 

You nearly ran into the glass door of the library from being lost in your spiraling thoughts. Luckly, some kind soul opened the door for you before you could react. Although most of the research you needed to do for your history midterm paper could be done online, there was one book in particular that you needed to get your hands on.

With midterm finals around the corner, the library was unsurprisingly packed. Your desire to stay away from people pushed you to peruse the stacks and leave once you found your book, not wanting to find a place in the library to work. 

Assuming you’d actually find the book. 

You arrived at the bookshelf you knew the book was supposed to be, but you couldn’t find it. Someone had misplaced books, authors with the last name of “A” showing up in the “G” section of the stacks. 

“Why are people so fucking stupid,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no one in the aisle to hear you. That is, until you saw a familiar face round the corner. You thought about dashing out of the aisle, but he’d already caught sight of you, his gaze boring into yours. 

“Hi,” Jimin said quietly, being mindful of the fact that you were in a library. The airy sound of his voice made your stomach flutter. He was wearing tight jeans with the knees ripped out, the material hugging his thighs in a way that pissed you off. On top of that, the cut of his t-shirt accentuated his chest and the swell of his biceps filling tightly in his sleeves. 

You did your best to look him in the face rather than allow your eyes to travel to his smooth throat or lower. 

“Have you been hiding from me in the library this whole time?” He gave you a sad pout, head cocked to the side. Why were you starting to feel guilty? 

“No,” you said flatly, turning to look at the spine of one of the books on the shelf. It was nothing interesting to you, except for in this very specific moment. 

Jimin took another step forward. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” His voice came out low and deeper than usual. You felt its vibrations ripple through your body to your toes. 

“I think you’re playing with something that’s not meant to be played with,” you spoke through your teeth, not saying what you meant, but saying enough that you knew Jimin knew what you were talking about. Whatever his interest was in vampires, it was dangerous. 

“Hmm… but there’s something else I want to play with, that I haven’t been able to.” He gave you an innocent smile as if his words weren’t laced with innuendo. 

“Jimin,” you hissed him a warning, baring your fangs in an effort to get him to back off. Although he was ever the obedient boy and did finally step out of your personal space, he held that innocent smile and never once faltered during your attempt to be intimidating. If anything, it made those adorable cheeks become even fuller, as though he were enjoying it. 

“Hey, no need for that,” he put his hands up, pointing at your teeth. “I just wanted to ask you a question.” 

When did Jimin not have questions for you? With a sigh, you nodded your head. The boyish smile he often wore came back and you were convinced you’d never grow tired of seeing the expression on him, even as annoying as he was. 

“I was going to tell you earlier but I could never find you…” he started off slowly, and you ignored the frown he gave you. He could have texted you if it was that important… “Tomorrow night my dance group is having a performance and I wanted to invite you.” 

You blinked, clearly taken by surprise that the question wasn’t some inappropriate inquiry about vampires’ lives. Jimin looked at you with hope sparkling in his eyes. 

“Oh,” you exhaled, feeling your body relax a bit. “Umm, I need to get ahead on one of my papers, but if I feel like I’m in a good spot I can go? Just text me the details?” It wasn’t a yes, but it also wasn’t a no. 

That seemed to be enough for Jimin because he was back to beaming at you again. He bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment. “Sure! And Nikki is invited, too!” 

You didn’t like that. Not that you weren’t planning on bringing her with you anyway, but you didn’t like that he’d offered the idea first. “Yeah, for sure. Thanks.” The two of you stared at each other while you tried to figure out how to walk away. “I’ve gotta go…” 

“Right. Good luck with your paper!” 

You nodded a thanks and left, completely forgetting that you still hadn’t gotten the book you needed.

🩸

It came as no surprise that Nikki forced you to go to Jimin’s performance. She was always forcing you to be social, though you were convinced there was an ulterior motive this time. She just wanted to see Jimin grab his dick as he thrusted and do some body rolls to sexually explicit music. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see those things, too (although you’d never admit it out loud). You just didn’t feel like doing shit with other people. 

Which was why, weeks later, she was harassing you about your Halloween plans. She figured now that you were starting to become friends with Jimin (her words, not yours), it was now time for the rest of your friends to meet him. 

Or maybe she just wanted to go to a party with Jimin and see if she could be on the receiving end of his thrusting. 

“Y/N, you have to host the Halloween party. Your dorm is the only one big enough for everyone to pregame in before we go to the frat houses.” It was the same plea Nikki had made the year before. How were you the unlucky one to always end up with the better apartment? 

It was impossible to say no to someone like Nikki. She was determined, knew how to give a good pout, and pulled the whole “we’ve been bonded for life through blood magic, you can’t say no to me” excuse. All three were a deadly combination that made you cave every single time. 

So it was no surprise that the two of you were examining each other’s outfits in your bedroom. Despite the fact that the party was in your own dorm, you were fashionably late. The speakers were blaring in the living room, and the living room and kitchen were already packed with your closest friends - and plenty of plus ones you didn’t know.   

“Okay, what do you think? I think you look hot.” Nikki handed her phone to you so you could see a photo of yourself. Though you couldn’t use mirrors, you could show up in digital photos. How lovely was modern technology? 

You examined your slutty Princess Tiana outfit, zooming in on a few details before handing the phone back to Nikki. 

“You look hotter,” you said with a grin and a wiggle of your eyebrows, admiring her thrilling interpretation of Cinderella. Both of your outfits were complete with skirts that just barely covered your ass and the cutest garters you’d ever seen. Provocative clothing wasn’t really your thing, but Halloween was all about being something you weren’t. Plus, you were already kind of drunk and alcohol was perfect for loosening you up. 

Some people even said that alcohol made you nice. What an idea! 

“NIKKI! Y/N! COME OUT HERE!” Jin’s voice carried over the pop music. 

You and Nikki struggled to suppress giggles as you stared at each other, tightly clutching your drinks in your hands. Jin was 400 years old; he certainly knew how to throw a party. That was why you trusted him to take over while you finished getting ready. 

Finally satisfied with your looks, you slipped out of your bedroom with Nikki at your heels and immediately collided with Jin. No surprise, he was dressed like a 1600s pirate. You had yet to find evidence that Jin really had been a pirate in his early days, but you also didn’t have a reason to think he was lying, either. 

“We’re doing shots and then once Hobi texts me, we’re heading over to Sig Nu,” Jin hollered over the music and you were too drunk to question if you should maybe turn it down before you all got in trouble. 

“You know I never turn down shots,” Nikki grinned with a shimmy of her shoulders. “But someone has to make sure Y/N doesn’t take her fucking clothes off this time.” 

“Hey!” You jabbed Nikki in the arm with your index finger. “That happened one time and I blame whatever the fuck ATO put in their juice.” 

Nikki threw her head back in a cackle, grabbing onto Jin’s waist to hold herself up as she fell backwards. He struggled to get a good grip on her without her spilling her drink all over his flowy ruffled shirt. 

“Can you please at least attempt to stand on your own? You look like-” 

Jin’s mouth hung open and his eyes grew wide as he looked at you. You matched his shocked face, wondering what you might have done to make him look like he’d seen a ghost. But before you could question him, you heard a sweet voice speak behind you. 

“Y/N, you take your clothes off when you get drunk?” 

You turned around a bit too quickly and felt your brain slosh inside your skull. You almost thought you were imagining things when your eyes landed on your roommate in a firefighter costume. Jimin was shirtless, and his abs somehow looked even more toned than they had those many weeks ago on that disaster of a night. He wore black shorts that accentuated his muscular thighs, with red suspenders that were strapped tightly against his pec muscles. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a porno. 

“Holy shit, Jimin, you look hot,” Nikki blurted out, finally standing on her own two feet without the help of Jin. She would pull herself together if it meant being able to check out a cute guy. 

You and Jin both struggled to snap your mouths shut once more, eyes following Jimin as he stepped closer. 

“Thanks,” he grinned, and you felt like your legs were going to give out. The feeling only intensified when you felt Jimin’s warm, strong hands hold your bare waist for a second as he moved past you in the tight hallway. “Excuse me, princess.” You sucked in your breath at the pet name and locked eyes with Jimin. He gave you the most innocent smile when he saw the look on your face. “Nice costume.” 

Right. Because you were dressed like Princess Tiana . A princess. 

“I need to get caught up on all the drinking. I’m too sober right now.” And with that Jimin was on his way. 

“Look at his back muscles. Look at his back muscles,” Nikki hissed, barely waiting until Jimin was out of earshot. She pressed a hand against her forehead and sighed. “I’m burning up. Maybe I need Jimin to put out my fire.” 

“Your boyfriend is quite literally in the other room,” Jin pointed out, making Nikki dramatically roll her eyes. 

“It was a joke, Jin.” 

“Sure it was.” 

The two began to drunkenly bicker, carrying their silly argument out into the living room where the other guests were drinking and dancing in preparation for the fraternity houses. You didn’t realize how long you stood in the hallway with your cup raised to your lips, eyes trained on the threshold Jimin had walked through to get to the kitchen. You should have never agreed to let him invite his friends over to pregame as well. You should have told him there would be too many vampires, that he should go find a different room to pregame in. 

Giving your body a little shake, you tried to walk a straight line to the kitchen to find Jimin standing a bit too close to another guy, someone you vaguely recognized as one of his dance team members. The guy was much taller than him, with sandy blonde hair and dimples set so deeply in his cheeks when he smiled that you almost swooned. He was dressed in fitting scrubs that accentuated his muscles, a stethoscope around his neck. Your stomach churned when you watched the guy loop his finger around Jimin’s suspenders, pulling him close to whisper something in his ear. Whatever he said made Jimin bite his bottom lip. 

“Jimin,” you called out, determined to break up whatever the fuck that was, though you weren’t sure why you felt that way. 

Eyes wide like he’d been caught, Jimin took a step back from the other man and turned to you. “Yeah?” 

“Are you going to Sig Nu with us?” 

He nodded slowly. “Namjoon’s in Sigma Nu.” He jutted a thumb at his friend and the man gave you a large grin.

Ignoring Namjoon, you kept your eyes on Jimin. “Just… Please be careful, okay? Crazy shit always happens at that house.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled. “But I think I’ll be fine.” You hated the way Namjoon smirked at your concerns, catching Jimin’s eye. 

You couldn’t question Jimin any further because Jin started rounding up everyone in your dorm to smash themselves like sardines into the kitchen, screaming his rendition of Shots, Lil Jon’s part, of course. You couldn’t help but laugh; Jin really loved his early 2000’s bangers. 

After having one too many shots of your own, you vaguely remembered getting to the frat house. It was all a blur of you and Nikki holding each other up, singing along to some other terrible pop music as you skipped down the road, your army of friends following around you. In your drunkenness you’d lost track of Jimin, but you decided that you didn’t care. He could have his dance team friend with the muscles and the stethoscope. You did not care. 

“Nikki, I need to have sex,” you declared into your friend’s ear. The two of you stood in the corner of the kitchen, filling up on drinks. 

“With me?” 

“What? No!” you gasped. “Wait… Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“No! I was just making sure I knew what you were talking about!” 

The two of you bursted into a fit of giggles, catching the attention of a few frat guys passing through. 

“You look fucking hot and you’re in a house full of horny college boys. Just go out there and shake a lil ass. Someone will swoop you up.” 

“I guess…” Random hookups weren’t your thing at all, but maybe this was what you needed. You hadn’t had sex in a really long time; perhaps an orgasm could reset your brain. 

“Go! Please let me live vicariously through you since Jin won’t let me be a freak.” Nikki gave you a hearty slap on the ass and pushed you into the main room where everyone was dancing. 

With alcohol flowing through you, it was easy to get lost in the feeling of the music and the heavy air inside the house, sticky with the scent of sweat and beer. Nikki hadn’t been wrong; it didn’t take long for you to feel hands slide along your sides, fingers brushing your exposed midriff before each hand settled on grabbing your hips. Whoever the man was used his grip on your hips to pull you backwards against his chest. With your eyes closed, you leaned your head against the man’s chest and girated with him to the music, grinding your ass on his crotch to feel it already semi-hard as his hands tickled the smooth skin of your hips. Dancing with strangers was a normal part of frat parties. Although you were always careful about your surroundings, being intoxicated definitely loosened you up a bit, and you were more willing to agree to things that were a bit less logical. 

You felt lips brush against your earlobe and the man’s breath against your neck sent a tingling sensation down to your core. He was human. You could feel his pulse pressed against your shoulder blades. 

“Y/N,” the man spoke into your ear just loud enough for you to hear over the loud music and your eyes shot open. 

“Jimin…” you inhaled shakily, pausing your dancing. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said with a sigh, dipping his head down to press his lips against the soft spot of your jaw below your ear. 

You shivered, his mouth searing your skin with a heat that made your senses go feral. Where was all this coming from? You knew Jimin had been confident with you in the past, but this was a whole different level of boldness. You’d never been so close to him before, let alone have him kissing you. 

“No you haven’t. We were literally pregaming in our dorm an hour ago. You’re just drunk.” 

“Yeah, but we never spend time together,” he protested against your skin. You felt his right hand glide to your front to play with the hem of your skirt. You finally turned around to look at him, his hand now resting on your ass. You could feel his growing erection against your thigh.  

“Park Jimin.” Whatever threat you had for him had dissolved on your tongue the moment you met his dark eyes. You were pressed against his bare chest, the skin of your stomach meeting his. His cheeks were puffy with a smile and bright red from being flushed due to the alcohol pumping through his system. A bit of perspiration was making his face shiny and his pink bangs were brushed up, exposing more of his forehead. 

“Yes?” He grinned with his teeth, the lights of the party dancing in his bloodshot eyes.  

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Nikki watching the two of you with raised eyebrows. “I can’t…” You turned back to Jimin. “We can’t.” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence, but it didn’t matter. 

You quickly detached yourself from Jimin’s hold and rushed towards Nikki, refusing to look back. You needed to get away from the sound of his heart, the sweet smell of his skin, the tantalizing memory of the sounds beating from his bedroom those many weeks ago. He was too dangerous; you couldn’t trust yourself around him anymore. 

“Umm, what was that?” Nikki grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side of the room, away from the sea of horny, grinding college students. 

“He’s been flirting with me for months,” you blurted out, the alcohol making you finally fess up. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” You could hear the hurt in Nikki’s voice, but you couldn’t worry about that right now. 

“You don’t get it,” you pleaded with her. “I can’t do this anymore, Nikki. He’s… he’s too much.” 

Nikki crossed her arms against her chest and gave you a hard look. It was usually you who was the one to be shooting daggers with your eyes, but this time Nikki was taking control. 

“You literally just said you wanted to go find someone to have sex with,” she challenged you. 

“He’s a human,” you spoke in a strained, exasperated tone. 

Nikki shot her angry glare off to the side to discourage some gross frat boy from walking in your direction. “Fuck off, we’re talking, okay?” 

She turned back to you, “Yeah, no shit. Who cares? He wants you, you obviously want him. I know you, Y/N. You think you’re a bitch, but you’re a genuinely good person. You won’t hurt him.” 

You scoffed, but it was half-hearted. Nikki’s eyes softened a bit as she watched you, reaching out to take your hand. “If you would just stop being such a hardass and accept him for what he is, you might find that you actually like him…” 

“Oh shut up, you’re drunk.” 

“So?? You know my best advice and wisdom comes out when I’m drunk!” Nikki punched you in the arm and threw her head back in an eruption of laughter. You could practically feel Jin pushing through the crowd to find her, as if her laugh was his alert that Nikki was probably going to fall over at any moment. 

You chewed on your bottom lip, twisting your hands together. Maybe Nikki was right. Maybe you’d been freaking out too much. Sure, Jimin had some weird fascination with vampires, but a lot of humans did. And sure, he was quite literally mouthwatering, but Nikki knew you better than anyone else in the world, and she knew you would never harm another person (if they didn’t deserve it). Jimin was gentle and trustworthy. 

“Fuck it,” you hissed, dropping your hands and spinning around to where Jimin had stood. But, of course, he was nowhere to be found. You waved down Jin who’d passed through the sea of people. 

“Can you watch Nikki?” you asked him. 

Nikki punched you again. “Hey, I don’t need a babysitter!” 

Jin rolled his eyes and wrapped a firm arm around his friend. You gave him a small smile in thanks and began to walk away. But you paused, turning for a second. 

“Do you know where Jimin is?” 

Jin cocked his head to one side and gave you a long stare. “I saw him go upstairs with Celeste.” Jin barely got the fellow vampire’s name out of his mouth before you were pushing your way through the living room of the frat house, finding the front stairs and hurrying up them, not caring who might try to look up your skirt as you went. 

Celeste was a psychopath. You were absolutely sure of it. Ever since humans were allowed into the university, she had been seen luring human men into her clutches more than once. And they always walked away completely ruined or absolutely obsessed with her. She was playing them like Barbie dolls, putting them under her spell. And it wasn’t just sex. You knew she was drinking from them. Everyone knew. 

The music was muted upstairs which made it a bit easier to listen for voices as you crept down the hallway. You stopped at each bedroom door, leaning close to listen for, well, anything. So far, every room you peeked into was unoccupied - which was surprising for a frat party. The longer it took, the more anxiety built up inside of your chest. You tried not to think about what might be happening between Jimin and Celeste because the deeper your brain got sucked into those thoughts, the more you wanted to throw up. 

Pull yourself together, you scolded yourself. Maybe you should have left Jimin alone. He was an adult; he could take care of himself. What he did was none of your business. 

You’d almost convinced yourself that all of that was true until you heard a familiar giggle from the bedroom to your left. You lunged for the doorknob and felt like crying when you found it locked. You could technically rip the thing off, but that wouldn’t be very polite to whoever’s bedroom it was. 

“Sorry, this room is taken!” you heard Celeste’s sing-songy voice attempt to push you away. 

“Open the fucking door, Celeste,” you hissed, rattling the doorknob. “Don’t make me have to rip it the fuck off. I bet Suyoon wouldn’t be very happy with you.” Suyoon, her boyfriend and president of Sigma Nu. Celeste really was trash. 

You heard a loud sigh and suddenly the door was being flung open. The other vampire was donning a slutty maid outfit, her boobs pushed up so far they were practically in her face. You looked around her to see Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed, and for once he actually looked mad at you. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” Celeste snapped her fingers in your face to get your attention. You wanted to fucking bite them off. 

“Jimin, we’re leaving,” you commanded, ignoring Celeste. 

“So now you want me around?” Jimin sneered. It was the expression he gave you, and less the words, that stung. You shot him the dirtiest look you could muster and bared your fangs with a low hiss.

“We. Are. Fucking. Leaving.” 

“Jimin, you don’t have to listen to her,” Celeste cooed, walking back to stand beside Jimin. She lifted his chin to have him look into her eyes, stretching his neck all the way out. “You want to stay here with me, don’t you?” 

The air in the room grew cold and you felt a heavy weight press down on your chest. It was then that you realized what she was doing. She was hypnotizing him. 

“Celeste, stop it!” You pushed the other vampire, causing her to stumble backwards and break her connection with Jimin. “You’re not allowed to manipulate the humans’ minds.” 

Giving Jimin an apologetic look, you slapped him in the face as hard as you could without severely injuring him. “Ow, what the fuck?” he cursed, holding his hand to his cheek. 

Shaking your head, you grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet, ignoring the way steam was practically shooting from Celeste’s ears. She couldn’t do or say anything; she knew she was in the wrong, and there was too much she could fuck up if she kept pushing her luck. So she watched you drag Jimin out of the room in silence, her arms crossed against her chest. 

“Why did you slap me?” he pouted, still rubbing his cheek. You led him down the stairs and pushed him through the front door. The cool October air was a welcomed reprieve from the stuffiness of the frat house. You maneuvered through groups of people loitering in the front yard until you reached the sidewalk. It was then that you finally let go of your death drip on Jimin’s arm. 

“Celeste was fucking with your brain,” you said simply. You clenched your jaw, working your molars into each other, and tried to focus on the walk to your dorm instead of the man who followed you. 

“Maybe I wanted her to.” 

You stopped in your tracks and grabbed onto one of Jimin’s suspenders, pulling him close to your face. “She was going to drain you until you’re barely clinging to life and then blame someone else for it, just like she did that kid who went to the hospital last month. You know that kid?” Jimin nodded his head, eyes wide as he stared at your mouth. “Everyone said he got alcohol poisoning but you can’t believe shit that comes out her mouth. She’s evil, Jimin. And you’re stupid.” 

You let him go, the suspender snapping against his bare skin and causing him to yelp. “So next time I have to save your ass from a psychopath, you better fucking listen to me.” 

The two of you spent the rest of the walk in silence. You sent a text to Nikki to let her know that you’d made it to your dorm safely, and then you shoved Jimin through the door, slamming it shut a bit too aggressively. 

“Drink some water,” you commanded gruffly. You held onto the wall to steady yourself as you took off your heels, eyes still glaring at Jimin when he met your gaze. This was exactly why Nikki’s encouragement was stupid. Vampires and humans were just incompatible. 

You could not believe you’d really thought about fucking him. 

You gingerly tiptoed down the hall to your bedroom, feet sore from the uncomfortable shoes. They were the least of your worries. You felt like you’d just hopped off an emotional rollercoaster, head still spinning and your legs trying to remember how to walk. Despite feeling absolutely disgusting, you couldn’t bring yourself to take a shower. It felt like too much effort, so you opted for stripping your costume off and pulling a baggy t-shirt on. Figuring you’d at least brush your teeth, you stepped back into the hallway. 

Before you could enter the bathroom, you felt Jimin’s arm snake around your waist, pulling you against him. “Thank you,” he said slowly, drawing his bottom lip into his teeth for a moment. “Thank you for looking out for me.” 

“It’s what friends are for, right?” Your body tensed in his embrace, and you couldn’t meet his gaze. The more time you spent with Jimin, the harder it was to understand him. 

“I don’t want you to be my friend,” Jimin breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to touch me.” 

“What?” You swallowed thickly, eyes shooting up to look at him. 

“I want you to touch me… here.” He took your hand and placed it against his neck, pressing your fingertips into the skin above his pulse. You let out a shaky breath as you felt his heart beat against your fingers. 

“And here…” He dragged your hand from his neck down the length of his naked chest. “…and here…” He pressed your hand against the hard bulge in his pants. Curling his fingers, he wrapped your hand around his cock over his pants. Tightening your fingers beneath his, Jimin bucked into your palm slightly. His eyes never once left yours, and you watched his mouth slowly part. A light whine left his lips when he squeezed your hand around himself even harder. Holding his stare as he jacked himself off with your hand was proving to be too much for you. You could feel your pussy begin to throb, your arousal a burning heat between your thighs. It was the only time you really felt warm, felt alive. 

“I brought Imani over on purpose,” he said in a low voice, hand still moving yours back and forth. “I thought it might make you jealous.” 

“Ohh…” Your fingers reached a damp spot in the front of Jimin’s pants and his heartbeat quickened. 

“Sometimes I think you think I’m more oblivious than I really am,” he said with a small laugh, a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before; however, it quickly diffused into something much darker. “I know you heard me.” 

You halted the movements of your hand and willed yourself to get a grip on the situation. How had you so easily fallen into Jimin’s trap? 

“What are you talking about…” you questioned slowly, pulling your hand away from him. 

Jimin leaned into you further, closing the space you’d created between the two of you. “I know you heard me in my room when Imani left,” he whispered, licking his lips. “Touching myself. Do you know what I was thinking about?” 

You stayed silent and the realization that you weren’t going to speak made Jimin laugh again. 

“You,” he finally spoke once more. “I was thinking about you. Imagining you were the one biting my neck.” 

It felt like your legs were going to give out beneath you, but you stiffened your body to hold yourself together. There was no way you were going to give in that easily, no matter what Nikki said. 

“Need I remind you that you were about to fuck Celeste not even half an hour ago?” you snapped. You’d never been interested in anyone who considered you disposable. Replaceable. 

Jimin shrugged, his face going soft for a split second. “Celeste isn’t you, though.” 

You were at a loss for words. Jimin ran his nose up the length of your neck, stopping to nibble on your earlobe. It was insane how his gestures weren’t anything big; he hadn’t even attempted to kiss you or touch your body more than what he’d done at the party. So how were these small actions already unraveling you? 

“Bite me, Y/N. Please.” Jimin was practically begging. He slotted one of his legs between yours and ground his erection up into your thighs, your t-shirt pushed up to reveal your underwear.  

Despite what people may have thought about your tough demeanor, you’d never drank a person’s blood aside from during your coming of age ceremony. You were scared. Scared of becoming the monster society wanted so badly to make you out to be. 

“You’re drunk.” The argument was feeble and you both knew it. Jimin was probably more sober than you were at this point. 

“I want this,” he pushed on. “I want you.” He grabbed the back of your head and finally crashed his lips into yours. They were so fucking silky it made your chest ache for how many months you’d gone not knowing their caress. He forced you to swallow the softest of moans you’d ever heard in your life. Jimin’s moans sounded like the sigh of an angel, but the high pitched edge of lust that made the moan draw out against your mouth was what reminded you that this was anything but innocent. No matter how sweet Jimin looked. 

You felt his tongue slip inside of your mouth and the tip of it ran along the sharp point of one of your fangs. Jimin pressed his tongue just hard enough to prick it, causing the tiniest bit of blood to leak into your mouth.

Your eyes flew open and you shoved Jimin away from you. 

“Jimin, what the fuck…” You swallowed, but the taste of his blood was like thick nectar coating the inside of your mouth. “You did that on purpose.” 

“I did,” he grinned, grabbing a fistfull of your t-shirt to pull you close again. You wanted to slap the smirk off Jimin’s face, but your body took over and you found yourself latched onto him again. You wrapped your lips around his tongue and sucked on it. 

“Do it,” Jimin pulled away, pupils blown out and face flushed pink. “You want it. I see it in your eyes.” 

Your brain screamed for you to stop, but your body backed Jimin up until his legs hit your bed. You pushed his shoulders down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, giving you better access to his upper body since he was so much taller than you standing. 

“If it hurts too much… push me away, okay? You have to push me away.” Your hands trembled as you tilted his head back and to the side, red eyes zeroing in on his pulse under his skin. And with that you plunged your fangs into the soft skin of Jimin’s neck. 

You weren’t sure which one of you moaned, but it was carnal, feral. It was a cry that came from pure animalistic instinct. For a moment you forgot all about Jimin. Your mind was completely blank aside from the taste of him in your mouth. You lapped up his blood with so much fervor you were making obscene sounds echo through the bedroom. 

“Fuck Jimin,” you moaned into his skin. “You taste so good.” 

Nothing could have prepared you for the whimper that fell from his plump lips or the way he began to pant with need. You pulled away to see his eyes flutter and roll back in his head, lost in an ecstasy only you could bring him. Oddly, there was something empowering in that. You felt yourself swell with a smug pride in knowing you had this man weakly trembling under your touch. 

“More,” he asked hoarsely. 

Pushing Jimin onto his back, you climbed on top of him to straddle his legs. You leaned down and pressed a hot kiss against his chest before dragging your fangs along the ripples of his abdomen, leaving small scratch marks barely deep enough to draw the smallest amount of blood. You swiftly dipped your head to run your tongue along the muscles, licking up any blood that rose to the surface. The pinprick of pain made Jimin whimper again and he squirmed beneath your touch. 

He grabbed one of your hands and pressed it against his neck, closing your fingers like he did when he made you grab his cock. “Choke me.”

“You’re a disgusting slut,” you said in response to his request, but Jimin only smiled. He stared down at you, eyes clouded with lust and the euphoria of your venom. 

“Tell me how you really feel.” 

You did as he wanted and tried to ignore the way the action was causing heat to pool in your core. Your fingers turned red as you squeezed him, testing out pressure until you found a force that had him groaning. He reached to unclasp the firefighter suspenders and raised his hips to help you pull off his shorts. You knew his cock was massive; you’d seen the outline that fateful night with Imani and you’d felt some of it in your hands with Jimin’s guidance. But to feel it brush against your thigh, smearing precum on your skin as you moved down the length of Jimin’s body was something else. 

“More, Y/N.” 

You bit the inside of his thigh and Jimin cried out in pain, though his cries quickly turned into a symphony of moans as you swirled your tongue along his sensitive skin to soothe it. 

“Fuck yes,” he shuddered, panting heavily. He reached down to wrap your hair around his hands so he could watch your lips suck on his skin. You were finally realizing what was going on. Sure, Jimin clearly liked riding the high that came with a vampire bite, but there was more to it. He liked the pain. 

“Oh my god, you are a disgusting slut,” you exhaled, lifting your head to look at him. “And I thought this whole time you were…” 

“Innocent? Curious? Stupid?” Jimin grinned and you felt crushed by the weight of your own stupidity for reading him so wrong. 

Ignoring his smug attitude, you returned your focus to his body. Taking one of his nipples between your fingers, you pinched it hard. Jimin jerked but let out a loud moan. Then you scraped your nails down his sides, scratching hot red stripes into his skin. Sweet sounds fell from Jimin’s lips the harder you scratched him, eventually digging your nails into his hips as you pressed kisses everywhere except where you knew he wanted you to. 

There was no way you were sucking his dick, no matter how kinky he was. Fangs and blowjobs weren’t a good combination. 

Breathing hard, you sat back on your knees and stared at the man beneath you. Jimin’s eyes were dark and blown out, and his body was coated in a mist of sweat. Red splotches were smeared along his torso and thigh. You lifted the back of your hand to run it across your lips, noting the red on your skin, too. 

“Are you okay?” you asked slowly, leaning forward to touch his neck. The venom had healed the wounds already, so Jimin looked a lot worse off than he actually was. Your main concern was how much blood you’d taken from him. 

Rather than answer your question, Jimin grabbed your hips and bucked himself into you. You cried out when you felt his cock rub against your clothed pussy. 

“Please, Y/N,” Jimin rasped. “Please let me fuck you. I need to feel you around my cock.” 

“Where the fuck did this dirty mouth come from?” you teased. So maybe having him beg was even better than hearing him moan. You couldn’t act like you were immune to him, though. Your underwear was so soaked through it was becoming uncomfortable. You sat back again to rip off your remaining clothes, your ego swelling up even more as you watched Jimin prop himself up so he could take in your naked form. 

“I can hear your heart starting to beat faster,” you taunted him. You rolled your hips against his, rubbing your dripping cunt along his cock. Jimin threw his head back and let out a low cry, doing his best to lie still for you. 

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this.” He reached between your bodies to cup your pussy, coating his fingers with your arousal. “I wanted to fuck the shit out of you the moment I met you.” Jimin plunged two fingers inside of you, the force knocking you forward. You bit back a moan as he roughly pumped his fingers into you, all the while watching your face twist and contort as you struggled to hold off the climax that was threatening to push you over the edge. How were you about to come just from his fingers? 

Sensing your tension, Jimin wrapped his other arm around your waist to press your body against him as he continued fingerfucking you. “I want you to scream my name,” he whispered into your ear. “I want you to scream and cry until you can’t fucking talk.” 

How was this the same timid boy who’d shown up at your door a few short months ago? 

Jimin’s open palm came down so hard on your ass you felt your body jolt forward in pain. When he slapped you a second time, he did so at the same moment your resolve finally broke. You felt your walls gush around his fingers and you did everything he’d wanted - you screamed his name into the crook of his neck so loudly you were sure your neighbors could hear you. 

“Does someone else have a pain kink?” Jimin mused, and you shot him a glare once you could trust yourself to lift up from where you’d collapsed on his chest. 

“No. I’m not a freak like you.” 

“Seems like you could be.” 

“You’re impossible. I can’t believe-” You were unable to finish your sentence when Jimin lifted you off of him. He tossed you back onto the bed, hooking his arm around your stomach to lift your hips up so you were on your knees. 

“Why are you always so mean to me?” Jimin purred in your ear, his chest pressed into your back. His fingers returned to your dripping folds, teasing your clit simply because he liked the way it made your thighs shake. 

“Because you’re an annoying asshole,” you stuttered, attempting to lift your head to look back at him. But he gently pushed your head back down so your cheek was pressed into the mattress. Then he ran his hands along your back, holding you in place as you felt the tip of his cock prod your entrance. 

“I’m nothing but sweet.” You could practically hear the smile he was giving you. “But I’m also tired of waiting for you.” And with that he pushed into you. The squelch your soaking pussy made when he eased in reminded you of the sounds you’d heard from your bedroom. The memory, paired with the knowledge that now it was you pleasuring him, made you choke out a moan. 

“Ohh my god,” you squealed, absolutely appalled by the girly sounds coming from you, but you couldn’t help it. 

“You like that?” Another hard slap, this time on your thigh. 

“F-fuck you, Park Jimin.” 

“That’s always been the end goal.” 

You wanted to knock the cockiness out of his voice, but Jimin had brought your wrists around to hold them against your lower back to steady himself. This meant you didn’t have any way to keep yourself up, your body swaying back and forth against the mattress. 

Jimin’s hips snapped against your ass in a steady rhythm, his moans harmonizing with the lewd sounds of skin on skin. Your head was reeling from how vocal he was. It was probably the hottest part of the whole thing; you’d never been with a guy who was so willing to express himself, to beg. The fact that Jimin could switch between being so submissive and then taking control to blow your back out was heavenly. 

It didn’t take long for you to feel another climax coming on, especially once Jimin began rubbing circles against your clit as he pounded into you. You clenched around him, hard, and Jimin jolted slightly. 

“Goddam, Y/N,” he whimpered, attempting to find his pace once again. “You better fucking hurry up and come ‘cause I’m about to lose it.” 

“Wow, you’re so considerate,” you hissed, but a slap to your thigh shut you up. It only took a few more thrusts into your g-spot before you were falling apart again, relying on his hand pressed into your stomach to hold you up as your legs shook when he kept slamming into you. 

“Fuck, you feel that?” Jimin released your wrists to grab one of your hands. He pushed your hand against your abdomen and you felt it bulge every time his cock rammed into your body. “Fuckkkk…” His pace picked up, slamming into you even harder than before. “Y/N, where should I…” Jimin whined the unfinished question. 

“Inside,” you breathed. Though your words were simply an answer to his question, it was as though they were a command. Jimin immediately let himself go, painting your walls with his release. He fell onto you and the both of you sunk into the mattress. 

“I feel like I’m floating on a cloud,” Jimin grinned, puffy cheeks and all. 

You slapped his chest and hated the knowledge that he probably liked it. “You’re just high.” 

“I know. It’s great.” 

The two of you laid there, waiting for your breathing to calm down. You could not believe you fucked a human. Let him nut inside of you, even. What kind of a slut were you? At least you didn’t kill him like you thought you would. 

“I guess you have your answer now.” You stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at him any longer. You were just an experiment, an opportunity to taste fruit that had been forbidden his entire life. 

“What do you mean?” Jimin turned onto his side to watch you. 

“If vampire bites feel good. Now you know. I’m sure you’ll want to stick to fucking vampires from now on.” You’d imagine humans couldn’t have quite the same effect, though you couldn’t deny how Jimin had just rocked your fucking world. You had a feeling it was a Jimin thing, rather than a human thing. 

“I guess I will.” 

Your mind flashed to Celeste, but you attempted to stomp the thought out of existence. “Yeah.” 

Jimin brushed his fingers along your stomach, gliding lower until he was stroking the inside of your thigh. You tensed, feeling your body become aroused once more despite the ache from being pummeled after not having sex for so long. 

“Next time I want to eat you out,” he murmured in your ear. “I bet you taste good.” 

You held your breath as Jimin’s fingers inched closer to your core. There was going to be a next time? 

“And then I want to feel those lips wrapped around my cock. I’ll even let you nibble a little,” he said with a breathy laugh that made you shiver.

“You sure you don’t want to try out something new? I heard Celeste’s bite is pleasurable enough to get people hooked,” you said spitefully, your eyes still on the ceiling. There was no denying your possessiveness over him. It had been there from the very beginning, even when Nikki made her jokes. You’d thought it was a strange desire to protect him due to his naivety, but now you were wondering if there was more to it. 

“I already told you.” Jimin moved so he was hovering on top of you, his hands on either side of your head. You felt his semi-hard cock rub against your wetness. “I want you. Nobody else.” 

When you still avoided his gaze he pressed on. “This was never only about chasing some high, Y/N. You’ve made me feel good since the beginning. You just have this thing about you… I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause you’re so mean and I like it.” He gave you a small smile and you knew from living with him for many months that he was teasing, but still genuine. 

“So now what? If I’m meant to believe you.” Forever the skeptic. 

“And you should believe me,” he pointed out. He watched your face for a moment before rolling his hips into yours, making you gasp at how hard he was again. “But for now, maybe I want to ask you to be my girlfriend, and if you say yes maybe I’ll fuck you again until you can’t walk to class in the morning.” 

Well, how could you say no to that?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

[paracosmic-murdock]

the lips i used to call home

you used to live a very different life before you ended up in that gala, wearing a dress almost as scandalous as your date: congressman james b. barnes. you used to be one of the little guys when half of everything disappeared and you were forced to move on, leaving all of that behind... leaving matt murdock behind. when he came back, life pulled you apart and you found yourself being a part of a world that wasn't very much like you—a world matt is now drowning into as he set foot in that gala because of his stupid jealousy, because of the news of your engagement to congressman barnes.

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x attorney general!reader x ex!matt murdock

warnings/tags: mediatic scandal damage control, angst, love triangle kinda but not really?, NO cheating, jealous!matt, what to do when your ex appears in an event you attended to hard launch your current partner wikihow, possessive!bucky, it hurt to write this tbh, we all know matt is a huge red flag guys, so i'm not apologizing, bucky x reader endgame, daredevil: born again (2025) SPOILERS, a relevant death from the first episode is mentioned multiple times, reader was friends with matt and foggy since law school, reader is a VERY up there politician, i'm not from the usa or know much ab politics so i googled this, but then got bored, idk, everything i do is for the plot, in conclusion: BOOMSHAKALAKA MY TWO HUSBANDS

4.5K words

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

After the Red Hulk incident, your job as Attorney General of the United States has become more difficult by the second.

The vice-president's transition to president wasn't being nearly as smooth as the Office hoped for it to be, so everyone has been having a harder time than anticipated. God, if you weren't a woman, you know you would've been asked to do it yourself, and you say it with enough confidence because you have heard it.

As you took a pill for the headache and got ready to finish drafting the speech you would give the following morning, Spencer, your personal assistant, knocked on your door.

“Do you need anything else, Madam?”

You shook your head. “No, it's okay. I'm heading home in five minutes anyway. See you tomorrow.”

“Alright, have a good night,”

“You, too.”

Sighing, you continued the concluding sentences of your speech when you heard knocks on your door.

Knock, knock, pause, knock, knock, knock.

“Come in,”

Bucky joined you in your office, giving you a tired smile that mirrored yours. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, driving your attention to him entirely.

He took a seat on your desk and leaned down to give you a quick kiss. “How was your day, baby?”

“For starters, you didn't come see me, so… awful,” You pouted, then left your hand on his thigh. “And yours?”

“I was swamped in work and couldn't come see you,” He exhaled, tired, and intertwined your hands. “So… awful.”

“How was your meeting with Gary?”

“We talked for four whole hours,” Bucks groaned. “And we have that thing tomorrow. God.”

“Do you know what you're going to say?”

“Do you know what they'll ask me?”

“Maybe about something that will require you to look for synonyms of worrying on WordReference. Like, concerning, upsetting, or alarming.”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm gonna kiss that little joke out of you, you know?”

“Oh, I very much hope so,” You winked. “God knows I need to relieve some… stress.”

Bucky smirked and leaned down again to kiss you, this time for longer, still full of care and affection.

Soon, he made you sit on your desk and stood between your legs, unbuttoning your deep aquamarine vest, mouth never leaving yours.

Your situationship with Congressman James B. Barnes started casually. You were introduced by former President Thaddeus Ross, who wasn't very pleased with his involvement in politics. He was expecting you to be against Bucky and scare him away, to intimidate him even, but it was the complete opposite.

You were polite. Maybe too polite. Kind. Welcoming. Wishing him the best on his campaign. Offering help in case he ever needed it.

Back then, you were still dating Matt Murdock, who was too busy pushing you away to attend these events by your side as he was supposed to. Which, ultimately, was what allowed you to spend the entire evening talking to Bucky.

Eventually, when Matt's purpose to push everyone away after the incident succeeded, Bucky was there. He got the job, he got an office close to yours, he attended the same events as you, he accepted your help, late hours were spent working, and things went further without either of you planning on it.

Not catching feelings would have been nearly impossible, but you never deprived yourselves of it. Instead, you started talking more and visited each other's offices after everyone was gone, or sneaked out during galas and other events, leading to those trysts nobody was supposed to find out about—at least not until you had figured everything out and got serious enough to maintain credibility.

So, right when you had discarded Bucky's white shirt and he was throwing your black, lace bra that left absolutely nothing to the imagination carelessly, Spencer opened the door to it landing on his face. And you knew you were absolutely doomed.

The horror in his eyes was unmatched, looking like a deer in the headlights.

The problem wasn't really that you and Congressman Barnes were involved. Well, it's not a particularly ideal pairing, but that wasn't the issue; the issue was that you were caught.

Fooling around looks everything but good in a person in your world, especially when it happens to a woman who comes from a more-than-modest law firm in Hell's Kitchen and was accused of fucking her way into the Office.

Therefore, the next thing you knew, everyone around was talking about your rendezvous with Congressman Barnes. Other colleagues you had kept your distance from were making advances, supposing you were one to get involved with people from work, and now they had a shot. You heard the whispers through the walls—rumor has it, you and Bucky fuck thrice a week in your office and twice in his, you were the one who got him that job, you spend your paycheck on expensive lingerie for him, he is a pleaser, and you look good on your knees.

Needless to say, you sent Spencer home ‘for the day’, and, the same day, your team programmed an emergency meeting.

You and Bucky sat on opposite sides of the table.

“So, uh… as damage control, we found a possible solution you might not be into,” Bahar, the head of your team, said. “Before saying anything, I need you two to know that everyone in the Office, from the security guards to the President himself, knows about this. About whatever is going on between you.”

“Okay, what are we supposed to do to get this over with?” Bucky sighed.

Bahar pursed her lips. “You have to announce your engagement.”

“What?” You and Bucky looked at each other with eyes wide open.

“There's no engagement to announce,”

“Well, now there is,” she replied to you. “Neither you nor Barnes can afford a scandal as such getting out of the Office. Between the questions of how qualified Y/L/N is to be where she is and the credibility of Barnes due to his… past, you probably won't be able to live down those love affair rumors. However, if you're serious, then this could be seen as a little indiscretion. You can always call it off later. Or get married, whatever works best.”

You exhaled. “Okay. Let's do this. Barnes?”

Bucky just stared at you, hesitant, but said nothing.

“Are you in or not?” you questioned.

“Okay,” He nodded.

“Perfect,” Bahar spoke in relief. “We'll have the ring here first thing tomorrow.”

“Can I- uh… choose it?”

Everyone turned to look at him, puzzled at how he was genuinely interested in doing this as right as it could get.

“Yeah,” she agreed, the faintest smirk on her lips. “You can come with us as soon as we're done here.”

“So, what are we selling here?” you asked.

“Well, you have been engaged for two months, in a relationship for a year, and this was just a heat-of-the-moment slip, alright? Nobody cares when it's something official like this. Let's just say you've been waiting until Friday's charity gala to make it public, but the rumors got in the way. We could release a statement before word leaks from this place,” Wendy from PR spoke. “And let's fire Warner for violating the contract. It covers these things, right?”

You hummed. “Everyone is prohibited from disclosing any information discussed or events occurred without explicit vocal or written consent from me and at least half plus one of the parties involved.”

“Perfect, I'll take care of it.” Bahar replied. “Well, this was very fruitful, team.”

Everyone left one by one, including Bucky—who didn't say a word to you before leaving—, and you were alone in your office.

You knew he wasn't happy, and you were sorry.

Well done, Madam Attorney. Taking care of your image for eight years just to end up like this.

You: I'm sorry about this

You: I hope this isn't your first engagement

James Barnes: Don't be sorry. It was our fault, and the both of us did it.

James Barnes: We have to face the consequences of our actions.

You: I know, but I'm sorry either way

You: It was my assistant

James Barnes: Yeah, I think you have to think twice before you hire someone.

You: That's a joke? Or a mean thing to say?

James Barnes: An honest thing to say.

You: That's too bold for a Congressman obsessed with the word “worrying”

James Barnes: You're never getting over that, are you?

You: Getting over something about you? I prefer getting under you

James Barnes: Promise?

You debated in your mind whether to do it or not but, in the end, you looked through your gallery until you found the one picture you were meaning to send him before he appeared in your office that night.

You: ① Photo

You: Encouragement to pick a nice ring, baby ;)

James Barnes: Fuck

You: Language, Sir.

James Barnes: Will I get congratulations for choosing a nice ring? A reward?

You: Most likely

James Barnes: I'll bring it tonight. Wait for me.

You: I will

You smirked and left your office.

Thursday morning came quickly for Matt Murdock at his office, catching up on the day's headlines.

His subscription to Y/N Y/L/N and Attorney General Y/L/N made the headline The unexpected engagement of Attorney General Y/L/N and Congressman Barnes: everything we know about the most politically relevant couple of the decade the first thing he heard.

Matt sat straight and selected the article.

ALT: Attorney General Y/N Y/L/N, Congressman James B. Barnes, and ex President Thaddeus Ross outside the White House

He bit his lip, feeling a hint of sweat on his skin despite the cold AC of his office.

Y/N Y/L/N used to work as an attorney at Nelson Y/L/N & Murdock back in Hell's Kitchen until the dissolution of the small law firm. Eventually, the firm reassembled as Nelson Murdock & Page, without Y/L/N, as she was then working as the District Attorney's Assistant until the Blip. During this time, she firstly got the job as New York's District Attorney. Her position lasted for two years before going the Judge route for a year. Soon after, Y/L/N became Chief Justice of the United States after Francis Holt, the former Chief Justice, passed away; all until last year when she was given the role of Attorney General of the United States. In her experience, though relatively brief, Y/L/N proved to be excellent enough to make herself a way to the highest position a lawyer can get in the government as a direct advisor to the POTUS.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes has a significantly different background, even outside the law for a long time. Formerly serving the country as Sergeant during World War II, Barnes was believed to be dead until he was identified as the Winter Soldier, a Super Soldier and war weapon under the manipulation of HYDRA. After being wrongfully blamed for having caused the attack on the United Nations Assembly that resulted in the death of the late King T'Chaka of Wakanda in 2016, Barnes joined the party against the Sokovia Accords led by Steve Rogers, former Captain America. Having disappeared for some time, he was reported as a part of the Avengers when fighting the extraterrestrial threats that led to the Blip. In 2023, when he along with half of the population came back, Barnes received a Presidential Pardon that allowed him to reintegrate himself to society. Earlier last year, Barnes obtained the position of Congressman, representing Brooklyn. His performance? We suppose it might be too soon to tell, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Now, the pair had never shown themselves as anything more than colleagues. The former's endorsement on Barnes’ campaign was present, but never thought of anything further than that. Therefore, it was quite the surprise when this very morning their teams announced that they have been engaged for a month as of today and in a relationship for a year.

The couple is set to make their first official appearance on Friday's UNICEF Charity Gala.

Matt's blood boiled at the thought of you being with someone else.

While it is true that after Foggy's death he became distant and had a one hundred and eighty degrees change, the only constant part of his life was loving you since you were in Law School. It was you, him, and Foggy since day one, and now it was only him. He knows he is at fault, but he wasn't prepared to receive such a low blow on a random Thursday morning.

“Hey, Kirsten,” Matt left his office and met his partner right outside. “Are you still more than friends with the UNICEF guy?”

She sighed. “You heard the news?”

“I just-”

“Are you trying to win her back or something? Because I support that, kind of.”

“You do?” Matt asked in disbelief.

“Look, Matt, I'm not normally the kind of friend that likes when her friends get back together with their exes, but you clearly still love her. Even when you were with Heather, that day at the hospital? You said her name like an innate reflex. If you need her to be at peace with your life, proceed by all means. Damn, I'll get that invitation right now and take you myself.”

“You're an angel, did you know that?”

She shook her head and chuckled. “What would be of you without me, Murdock?”

“I'd be absolutely lost,”

“I know.”

Your dress was chosen by your team to draw attention. Silk as white as a bride and a fitted, column-style silhouette with a draped cowl neckline, and tie straps in organza at the shoulders falling as low as the floor-length dress received Bucky when he went to pick you up at your penthouse.

The bright reflection of the lights on the emerald-cut diamond in the engagement band on your ring finger, however, greeted him proudly. Surrounding the diamond at its center, a baguette-cut side stone joined it on each side. It was absolutely perfect for you, and made him wish you didn't have to call the wedding off eventually.

Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could earn a yes.

“You look so perfect in that dress it will be almost a shame to take it off of you tonight,” Bucky commented in your ear, leaving a provocative kiss on your jawline after inhaling the scent of Chanel's Gabrielle off your skin.

You shuddered in anticipation. “Don't spoil it all that much.”

Bucky smirked and offered you his arm.

“I've never felt more scrutinized in my life.”

“I've been through lots of shit,” Bucky mentioned. “And, somehow, being interviewed by a teenage influencer for a TicTac about how well you know your partner was worse.”

“TikTok,” you corrected him. “And kudos for guessing my favorite color.”

Bucky chuckled and took a sip of his champagne. “You mentioned your favorite color once.”

“Did I?” You frowned.

“Yeah, you were bickering with your niece for stealing your favorite color. We were at your place and your friend brought her kid.”

“Oh, that's true,” You smiled softly, moved at the idea of him remembering something irrelevant like that from a subtle interaction that didn't even have to do with him.

“Excuse me, Congressman Barnes, Madam Attorney,” a reporter interrupted your conversation. “Can I take your picture?”

Bucky's expression went back to serious as he nodded, but gave a faint curve of his lips when the reporter took the pictures. Even once, when you had thought the photoshoot was over, he kissed your temple. Later, you learned that that specific shot made it to the internet.

“I'm sure everyone out there is questioning how the hell I pulled you,” Bucky commented. “Maybe they think I threatened you.”

“With what? A good time?”

He chuckled, a little dryly. “With assassination or something.”

You snorted. “Look, I knew what I was getting into that night I kissed you. You know? The grumpiest, most annoying man I have ever met; but also, the sweetest, most thoughtful, and unconditional.”

That hurt. That hurt Matt Murdock like hell, overhearing as per usual.

“How am I annoying?” Bucky feigned offense.

You got closer to him, leaving one hand on the left part of his chest. Heart beating loud and nervous. “Well, you're always sarcastic and never let an opportunity to mock me slide.”

“I guess that's my love language.” He shrugged.

“It kinda sucks, darling,” You smirked. “But I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Bucky blushed and, very publicly, stole a kiss from you. One long and scandalous.

“I wanna tell-” you started to say, but were interrupted by a loud greeting.

You felt your breath hitch once you saw them.

Terry West was one of those celebrity Ambassadors of UNICEF. A well known actor with a savior complex most likely, standing beside none other than Kirsten McDuffie and Matt Murdock.

Bucky noticed your nerves, how you were paralyzed all of the sudden, and held you tightly against him. His left hand softly caressed your arm, soothing you.

“Every time I see you, you are three steps forward than the last,” Terry smiled widely, congratulating. “Let me know if President comes next. I'll get you votes.”

“Hi, Terry,” You pressed your lips together. “Thanks, but I think this is as far as I'll get.”

“So, hey. You know each other, or so I've heard.” he noted before you said anything else.

“We do know each other,” Kirsten smiled. “It's been a long time.”

“Quite a long time,” Matt completed.

You nodded. “Yeah. Uh, darling, these are Terry West, he's an Ambassador of UNICEF. Kirsten McDuffie and Matt Murdock, we've known each other for a while now. Matt and I went to Columbia together and were partners at Nelson Y/L/N & Murdock back in the day. This is my fiancé, James-”

“James Barnes,” he completed for you, offering his hand to Terry, Kirsten, and Matt, who didn't even pretend he couldn't tell Bucky was trying to give him a handshake. The contact was rough. Aggressive, even. “But you are her friends, so you can call me Bucky.”

Bucky's arm returned to your waist, holding you protectively —possessively?— and close to him.

Kirsten smiled. “So, we're gonna take our seats. It was a pleasure seeing you again. Don't be a stranger, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” You nodded, seeing her and Terry leave. However, Matt stayed.

“Uhm, I was wondering if we could talk. In private.”

Bucky shot him a look, one between nonchalant and surprised at his boldness—how shameless could your ex be to ask to speak to you in private right in front of him? Still, he said nothing; Bucky just stared as he always does: stern, threatening, but a glint of anxiety in his blue eyes. Dark, gloomy, uneasy.

“Matt-”

“Please,”

“Anything you wanna say to me, you can say it in front of Bucky.”

He shook his head. “Come on, just…”

“It's okay, doll,” Bucky said. “Sam said he'd be here, so I'm gonna look for him.”

You sighed, not very brave at the idea of facing Matt after so long.

“You alright?” he asked. You said nothing, hoping for your eyes to tell him no. “Hey…”

Bucky kissed your forehead and let go of your hand.

“You need this,” he whispered, not knowing Matt could hear. “I'll be right there if you need me.”

And Matt knew it couldn't be fake. He knew it in the speed of Bucky's heart, in the warmth of his skin, and in the way your shoulders relaxed when he comforted you. It was all real.

“So, you come to these events willingly now? Or was something at stake?”

“Both,” He exhaled. “I just… I heard about your engagement and I couldn't- it can't be like this.”

“Matt,”

“Just… don't do this. This- I've loved you from the moment I first met you and I haven't stopped since, I've loved you every second I've been beside you and every second I've been not. I've thought about you every single day of my life since I heard you fighting with Foggy about how his future roommate would hate his mixtape,” he began, taking a hesitant step forward. “Everytime I met someone, I thought that if I tried hard enough, I'd be able to make their voice sound like yours, but it never worked. When we finally got together, I felt for the first time that nothing was missing anymore. But you're now with someone else, and I- I can't take it. Don't make this mistake. Don't marry him. I know I don't deserve you, that you didn't deserve what I did, but… I can make this right, I swear I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Everything means nothing without you, sweetheart. I need you to be because I can't tolerate the idea of a life without you.”

“Matt, you did this,” you replied, as put together as you could, trying to remain strong as a tear escaped down the maroon lenses covering the eyes you once died in. “You ended it. This whole thing? This was what you wanted. I met you and you were all I wanted for the longest time. I was fine, and then you happened to me. I endured years of your mixed signals and seeing you with other girls, and, when we finally got together, I thought I was done. I thought I was finally where I was supposed to be, and even when you were gone for those five years, I never stopped waiting for you. Then, you came back. Despite everything I had built and how I almost didn't make it out alive, I went back to you because I loved you. And… Matt, when Foggy died, I died. All my life, he was my best friend, and you acted like your hurt was bigger than mine. You acted like I didn't need you, like I was a completely isolated entity, like I belonged to a different planet and had no idea about pain and grief and Foggy. I fought against you for so long, even leaving my pain aside because I wanted to be there for you, but you were never there for me. You pushed me away like I was nothing, you pushed me so hard that I fell and you broke me, Matt. I tried to justify everything in your grief, but I was grieving too, and I never treated you or anyone else like shit. I said, ‘he's gone through so much’, ‘everyone handles loss differently’, but you know what? He was there for me. He was there to tell me that grief isn't a fucking excuse for being an asshole with the one person who would've died for you. So, you did this, Matt. And today I can only thank you, because you taught me a lot. You taught me how to love and what I deserve, and especially what I don't. And even after everything, I can only wish you the best.”

He stood silent, and you knew what would follow. You knew what he would do as soon as he left the place. You knew there would be broken bones and screams, and you knew he might not get over this right now.

But there was a moment in which you couldn't handle the idea of a life without him, and he had all those months to come find you. Still, he chose to do so when you were with someone else.

He came back when you were finally happy.

Because even if the engagement wasn't real, Bucky was.

Bucky is the only real thing you have left.

“Do you want to talk about what happened with Matt?”

You looked at Bucky as you took off your earrings. “Buck.”

“Doll,”

“Let's make this real,” you proposed, sudden. He stared at you, dumbfounded. “If there's something that came out of this horrendous evening, that's that I realized how much I love you. God, I love you so much, Bucky, it's unreal. But it's real, you're real, you… you feel it, too, right? I'm not imagining this, we're not just two people who have sex and talk about our fears for the hell of it, are we? We're real, this is real.”

He stood up until he was in front of you. “You're not only saying this because of whatever Matt said, are you?”

“I'm saying this because it's what I feel. I feel it now, I'll feel it tomorrow, and I'll feel this way for always. I just need to know if you love me too.”

Bucky lifted your chin and left a peck on your lips. “Yeah, I love you, too.”

“You do?” A weight fell off your shoulders, and you felt like you could finally breathe.

He just nodded.

“I'm glad you didn't leave me for Matt, though,”

“Did you ever doubt me, James?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Well, he's a big part of your life, and I'm just me. I have so much baggage, there's so much work to do in me, and… let's be honest, I'm not very good at this whole Congressman thing, it's like I have nothing of worth to offer you.”

“You have the biggest heart,” You held his hands in yours. “And baggage is not as heavy when there's someone to carry it with you and help you unpack. This life is a journey I want to share with you, I want to be by your side and help you figure it out. You don't have to be a Congressman or anything you don't want to be. Hell, I'd provide for you and have you as my househusband just for your pretty face. The sex is great, too.”

He chuckled. “You can't just say stuff like that when we're having a moment.”

“What am I supposed to say? That I'll take you to some school's career day to see what you like?”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Why don't you say you'll promote me or something?”

“Maybe I'll give you a dictionary for your birthday and we can call it even,”

“Or maybe I could just fuck that attitude out of you, don't you think?”

“You're an asshole, Bucky. You know that, don't you?” you joked.

“And you still love me, so this is pretty much on you,” He shrugged.

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

“You love me.”

Sure you do.

Right when you thought it was all over for you, that maybe you didn't deserve love or a happy ending, Bucky was there to show you otherwise.

Accepting the idea of not being able to love and be loved ever was probably the hardest thing you had to do, especially while believing you had already lost who you thought was the love of your life. Learning to let yourself be loved by Bucky, however, came easily and unexpectedly.

And there he is. There. And he loves you just as much as you love him.

He is real.

[chefs-other-corner]

Sick Days |Zoey|

☆Paring: Rumi x Zoey x Mira

☆Tags: SIck Fic, fluff, a pinch of angst, a dash of hurt/comfort, and just a shit ton of domestic fluff

☆Sum Sum: Zoey Gets sick this time, her girlys take care of her   ☆Word count: 714

☆Note: This was BASED AND FULLY INSPIRDE BY THIS POST, The one behind it is called fishsticks231 uhhh idk how to add it so I'll just (bloop) Here it isss ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Zoey had a system. Step 1: Pedialyte. Step 2: Saltines. Step 3: Vomit in private. Step 4: Bathtub nest. This wasn’t her first rodeo with bad street dumplings. It wouldn’t be her last.

She hated getting sick. Not in the “ugh, this sucks” way—but in the deep, gnawing, makes-her-feel-like-a-burden kind of way. Mira and Rumi didn’t deserve to deal with her like this. So she did what she always did when her stomach turned against her: she locked herself in the bathroom with a pack of granola bars, her water bottle, and every blanket she could steal from the linen closet.

That was around noon.

It was nearly 6pm when Rumi came home, pushing the door open with her shoulder, arms full of plastic bags from the pharmacy.

“Z?” she called. “Got the stomach meds. And the fancy crackers you like.”

No answer.

The light was on in the bathroom.

She walked in—and froze.

Zoey was curled up in the actual bathtub. Blankets, two pillows, a half-empty bottle of Pedialyte cradled against her chest like a baby. Face pale, lips dry, sweat sticking to her hairline. Fast asleep. She looked… wilted.

“Oh my god,” Rumi muttered.

She dropped the bag and stepped closer. “Zoey?” She reached out, touched her arm.

Zoey stirred weakly. “Mmph… I’m good,” she croaked.

“No, you’re not.” Rumi didn’t waste time arguing. She leaned down, scooped Zoey up bridal-style, and carried her out like a princess in crisis.

“Put me back,” Zoey mumbled, already burrowing into Rumi’s shoulder. “I had a system…”

“Your system sucks.”

By the time Mira got home, Zoey was tucked into bed, face flushed and furrowed in half-sleep. Rumi was perched on the edge with a cold rag in her hand.

“She was in the tub,” Rumi told her. “With pillows.”

Mira sighed like she expected nothing less. “Food poisoning again?”

“Street dumplings.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Zoey stirred, eyes slitting open. “Sorry,” she rasped.

“Don’t be,” Mira said immediately, crossing the room and setting down a tray with soup and toast. “You’re sick. You don’t need to apologize for needing things.”

“But I feel bad…” Zoey mumbled. “You guys are busy, and I—I hate when people have to do stuff for me.”

“You’re not ‘stuff,’ Zoey.” Rumi reached out, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead. “You’re our person. That’s different.”

Zoey didn’t say anything. But she looked away, quiet in that way she always got when her guilt was louder than her stomach.

It took both of them to lure her out again later when the nausea eased. Mira crouched in the doorway with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and said, very seriously, “Zoey. I will slide this under the door like a can of tuna. Don’t make me do it.”

Zoey opened the door five minutes later, still swaying.

“I brushed my teeth,” she announced. “And I gargled. I didn’t want to smell like barf.”

“Great,” Mira said. “Now you’re going to shower.”

“I already wiped down with a wet rag…”

“Shower.”

Eventually, Zoey was clean, redressed in Mira’s oversized hoodie, hair damp, breath minty. Mira brought her back to bed while Rumi went to reheat her soup. She still looked fragile—like one more wrong move would break her.

“Sit,” Mira said gently, guiding her down. Then she knelt behind her and picked up a brush.

Zoey stiffened. “You don’t have to—”

“Zoey.”

Her mouth shut.

The brush ran through her tangles slow and smooth, no tugging, no rush. Mira had always been careful with her like this—especially when Zoey was too tired to pretend she didn’t need it.

Eventually, Zoey relaxed. Her head tilted back slightly, her shoulders sank.

“You’re not too much,” Mira said quietly, still brushing. “You never are.”

Zoey didn’t respond. She just blinked slow, eyes falling shut, until her breathing evened out. Mira kept brushing long after Zoey was asleep, her fingers light in the hair she once dyed bubblegum pink just for a concert.

Rumi came back in and smiled when she saw them.

“She’s out?”

Mira nodded.

“She didn’t finish the soup.”

“She will in the morning.”

They climbed in beside her, one on each side, tucking Zoey between them like the most precious, pitiful stray cat who forgot how to ask for help—but still deserved it anyway.

Part one Part Three

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."