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yeojaa · 4 years

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come over, pt. i

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. this is pwp. smut in the forms of: kissing, oral (m/f), fingering, deepthroating, hickeys, protected sex. use of the pet name shy girl. wc. 6.2k. beta reader. @hobi-gif and @snackhobi aka the loves of my tiny life. author note. this is an adaption of an rp with my beloved @velvetwicebang. while the writing is all my own, i owe so much to loma for inspiring me and being such a wonderful partner. 💛 if you enjoy this, feedback goes a long way. tysm for reading! (and yes, there will be a second part.)

You’ve been friends for thirteen months, classmates for another three before that. You’ve worked on countless projects together, watched him fall off a roof, and have had to bail him out of campus security’s grubby little hands. Your friendship is easy, based on mutual suffering in Professor Kim’s class and long study dates spent in the library. He smuggled you chocolates in his pockets and you brought iced coffee to the 8 a.m. lecture you shared.

You’re not sure why you’re riddled with uncertainty now then, every nerve ending shot, lit up bright like the still-up mini Christmas tree sitting in the corner of your dorm room. (You know you should take it down but it’s so cute, slouched ever with a tiny gold star-shaped bell hanging from the end.).

Spending time with Jungkook was normal - a part of your weekly routine - but then again, you hadn’t somehow developed a weird little crush on him until recently.

(If you think hard, you could probably pinpoint it to a night a few weeks ago when he looked particularly good, fluffy powder puff of hair stripped of shadow and gleaming gold beneath the warm lecture lights. You’d never had a thing for blonds but he made it look good - surprising you when he’d dropped into his seat beside you and winked in response to your surprise.)

(It’s something you can't tear your thoughts from now, that infuriatingly charming smile burnt into your retinas. It sits at the forefront of your mind, stealing your attention from the movie that's playing on the television hung across from your bed. One of those blockbuster flicks, because who didn’t love gratuitous action and lens flares?)

A hand reaches for the chip bowl propped between you - homemade chex mix, because you’ve been obsessed with the recipe since discovering it a few weeks ago - and you flinch away when it brushes the hand that's already in there.

"Sorry!" You squeak before coughing, a quick-witted (but not altogether believable) attempt at hiding the sudden heat that flares across your cheeks. The same hand disappears between your knees, fingers curling into the soft throw laid over your legs. You tell yourself to relax at least three times before speaking, peeking at your companion from beneath a fringe of sleep-tousled strands. “Stop stealing all my chips.”

The boy beside you only grins, tosses that lazy smile in your direction before turning his attention back to the explosion on the screen, entire expression lit up by the fireworks that explode in flashes of colour.

You think you’ve gotten away with it - that he hasn’t noticed - and then he’s speaking again, pointedly staring forward, seemingly unbothered. (You know better though. Jungkook’s infuriating like that, picking up on all the little things despite the fact that he’s a dumb boy, too good at reading between the lines when he barely studies.)

“You’re blushing.”

The callout is, well, uncalled for.

You choose to ignore him at first, opting to shove two chocolates past your lips. They’re unbearably sweet, minty and cold - your favourite - and the richness spills across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum as your teeth buzz from the sugar. (Note to self: thank Jungkook for the chocolate later.)

“You’re blushing,” you retort once you’ve swallowed, cheeks puffed out and a dent gathering between your brows. “I’m just—“ Hand waves wildly - nearly hits him in the face with how wobbly it is - and you pretend-glare at him, faux affront laid in spades. “—hot.”

It comes snappier than you mean it to, spoken in something close to a pout. You aren’t actually. The campus is notorious for having garbage heating, floorboards more akin to packed snow in the dead of winter. It’s just annoying. You refuse to be another one of those girls.

(Not that there’s anything wrong with said girls. It’s more an issue with Jungkook, stupidly handsome and charming and far too popular for his own good. People already told you all about Jungkook’s escapades - even though you often heard them from him firsthand and in gruelling detail. One of the downsides to being friends with someone who, for all intents and purposes, carried the title of campus heartthrob.)

“Pay attention to the movie.” The same hand reaches for the mix again, careful to avoid brushing his this time. You think you’ve succeeded, snatching up a piece of pretzel, morsel halfway to your mouth when it drops to your lap.

The same lap that suddenly has a hand on it, palm warm over your knee.

If you’d thought your nerve endings were shot, now you knew they were. Every inch of skin was on fire - heat shooting up your spine and over your neck the moment his hand comes in contact with bare skin. Damn your need for comfort, damn your choice to wear shorts, damn his freaking hot tattooed hands—

You almost yell at him. The sound’s on the tip of your tongue when you bite down, stare trained wholly on the movie and the blood that splatters across the screen..

Really, you shouldn't be surprised. You’ve known Jungkook for nearly two years - okay, not quite. You’ve heard all the rumours about him, the whispered words that sound something like playboy and flirt and be careful. You know and yet you’ve found yourself in this situation, desperately trying to figure out what the hell is going through his mind as you stare straight ahead, refusing to move a muscle.

His profile is picture perfect from your periphery; he's focused too, acting like he's done nothing wrong. Sly as a fox, as always.

“Still blushing,” he repeats conversationally, as if he’s commenting on the colour of the sky or how cold it is in your room. Not as if he’s got a hand where it shouldn’t be, ink spilling over his skin in pretty patterns, burning the shape of it where he touches.

"I didn't blush.” It’s a retort made for only argument’s sake and even then, without weight. Feather soft and feeble in an attempt to keep your voice level. It's hard when you’re burning up, a livewire settled where you feel him. "I'm not blushing."

It's a lie - you can feel the flush, embarrassment flooding from your cheeks all the way down over your chest. It’s an inferno beneath your skin, lava coursing through your veins.

It spreads further and further, blooms somewhere new when his hand drifts lower, tracking across the soft inner of your thigh. Doesn’t cease even when his hand does, palm firm over your leg, the ghost of a touch passing so close to your core you can’t help but jolt. It’s as if he’s rearranged your pieces, mixed them all up. A brush of his finger over your clothed entrance feels like it hits you right in the chest, snaps your heart to attention. It roars to life, thundering madly, pulse erratic when he repeats the gesture, with that much more pressure.

You’re dripping, you realise to your horror, cotton of your thong sticking to your skin, grey of your shorts made darker by the arousal that spills over the one not-so-innocent digit.

A part of you wants to run from the room. Nearly do, heart hammering in your chest when Jungkook's face is suddenly too close, the warmth of his breath stifling against your neck. It feels good, anticipation and desire fizzing in your stomach like fountain pop. (The movie theatre kind, that’s somehow flat and too bubbly all at once.)

"Kook." You mean to say it reproachfully, with a hand pushing his wrist away. Instead it comes out like a whisper, a soft sigh of his name that sounds almost needy, laced with worry and anticipation that makes you want to tear your own hair out. Fingers remain locked around bone, other hand digging into the blanket and the linen beneath it, searching desperately for some form of composure beneath the material.

For the first time, you hazard a glance - know it’ll be bad for your own well-being - dropping your stare to where his hand rests. (You have to admit - you like the sight of those tattoos, a stark contrast to the unblemished softness.)

Like it almost as much as his kisses, the first of which lands exactly where you want it most. Delicate, polite, right on the junction of your jaw. A sigh escapes before you can help it. "Shy girl,” he coos, teasing in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I’m not shy,” you huff - try to, anyway, around the kaleidoscope of butterflies that are threatening to choke you. "We're watching a movie." You’re trying to redirect his attention, even as you’re desperate for it, even as you think you’d give your whole heart for it.

You’re this close to combusting, eyes widening the moment he extracts his hand and tucks it back into the bowl of chips. A part of you wants to yell at him - for starting this in the first place but mainly for leaving you high and dry, turned on and soaking through your underwear.

(It’s not fair, but then again, you’d never expected them to be. You’ve seen the rules Jungkook plays by - namely those of his own creation. Term paper due the next morning? He’d somehow pull it out of his ass that night. Break something at a house party? He’d be let off with a smile and a wave, those doe eyes of his utterly lethal when paired with his pout.)

“Watch the movie then.” He sounds almost bored, utterly unbothered as he seamlessly slips back into the proper role of friend, classmate, study partner.

"Let's." Without tossing another glance in his direction, you stare straight ahead, own hand delving for snacks. So what if you very purposely brush your fingers against the pieces he's just touched, popping the pieces into your mouth before slotting your thumb against your tongue, cheeks hollowing around to suck the last bits of salt and butter off.

Despite your nerves - you’re hoping he's watching - you readjust, bringing knees up, crossing legs until one is resting atop his own thick thigh. The full of your bottom lip disappears between your teeth, worried to within an inch of its life as you shift beside him, seemingly manoeuvring your shorts into their rightful position.

(You’re not. They’re hitched higher than they were, barely worthy of the title of shorts, more akin to a belt. So revealing it’s almost uncomfortable, wet of your arousal sticking them to your skin.)

(Two could play this game.)

(Maybe him better than you, but still.)

You know what you’re doing and yet you’re somehow surprised when he’s suddenly disappeared from your side and situated himself in front of you, eating up too much of the space on your small double bed. “What’re you—“ The question disappears in the same moment he does, unable to track his movements when Jungkook slips forward, pressing his mouth over yours.

You’ve kissed a lot of people. (Okay, not a lot, but enough.) You were a senior in college, where kissing was like talking and fucking happened more often than dating.

You’ve never kissed Jungkook before.

Why hadn’t you?

His lips are terribly soft, pink and pouted, slanting across yours as if he’s trying to devour you. There’s no semblance of delicacy, nothing gentle and sweet like those brushes against your neck. They’re forceful, demanding payment in full when his tongue glides over the seam, seeking entrance despite the fact that you think he might’ve slipped in anyway.

There’s not a single wall he couldn’t break down, not a lock he couldn’t pick. Not with how he moves, purposeful and reassured, tongue sliding over yours, sucking it into his mouth as if it’s something he does every day. (Which it very well could be - just not with you.)

“Shy girl,” he repeats with a mouth filled with affection, praise that pours over you honey sweet and sticky. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The thing is, you’re not pretending. You’re half-afraid this entire moment is going to explode into a thousand pieces, a dream shattered by reality. You hope it doesn’t. Couldn’t bear it when he feels so nice, hand spanning your waist, tucked beneath the safety of your shirt and the fleece blanket between you.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” There’s something in his eyes, something that coils heat in the pit of your stomach. You swear you can see the devil sitting on his shoulder, gleeful little smile rearranging his features. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

Did he? Of course he did. Had, even before you’d known him.

(You’d grown comfortable, though. Found a way to separate the popular heartthrob from your friend.)

But you’ve lost your marbles, gone certifiably insane when you make a noise that sounds nothing like you. Because you’re once again far too interested in the way Jungkook’s touching you, manhandling you as if you’re some sort of puppet. It really shouldn’t turn you on so much, slick coating your bare thighs when he guides you onto your back, pushes you back against your too many pillows.

He’s your friend and he’s told you all about the way he fucks girls until they can’t walk.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want the same treatment, though.

The moment Jungkook’s mouth finds your skin - sensitive and soft and so close to your soaked core - you keen, hands immediately flying into his silky head of hair. It threads between your fingers like fine silk, filaments of gold overlaid in colour by the movie that still plays.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, entire body arching off the back of the bed in an effort to bring some form of relief. You can’t help the heat that burns your cheeks or how you sound, begging and pleading as you tug gently at his blond roots. “Don’t tease me.”

You’re not asking very nicely but you figure Jungkook will give in. It’s his fault, after all.

His fault - which you don’t mind when he hooks fabric aside and drags his tongue across your slit, the flat of his tongue arching your back from the bed. Can’t mind when he does it again, rounded nose bumping against your clit. You’re trying to stay just a little bit decent, moans soft and caught between your teeth. You’re practically biting a hole through your lip in an effort to stay quiet, hands curled into fists. Gold spills between them and you imagine it hurts but he doesn’t stop, only works harder to drive you crazy.

Of course he’s good at this. Too good, if you’re being honest.

You’re dripping, legs trembling in his firm, unyielding grip. There's molten heat building in your stomach, creeping up your spine, and with each pass of his tongue over your sensitive core, it only expands. You want more - need it - and almost beg when he catches your clit between his teeth. A breathy baby spills out on accident when your eyes meet, gaze half-lidded.

It’s bad for your health, how good he looks right now, chin slick, lips rubied and pretty like jewels. “Shy girl sounds so pretty.”

There's something about his praise that completely ruins you, the words dragging a delighted, sexpot moan off your tongue. You want him to tell you how pretty you are now and later, over and over.

You want to be his pretty girl.

"I want you. I need more," you whine, hips rutting desperately, slick messy across your thighs and shining across Jungkook's mouth. He smiles then - brighter than the sun, utterly radiant, so devastatingly handsome you swear your brain short circuits - and then he’s doing exactly as you’ve asked.

He eats you out like it’s an art form, flicking his tongue over your clit with practiced precision, sucking the pearl between his lips. When he grazes his teeth over it - just the lightest pressure - you jolt, the feeling of a finger sliding into you stealing the breath from your lungs.

He’s always had nice hands, big broad palms and long fingers. They reach places you could never hope to, stretching you deliciously when he sinks another in alongside the first, exploring you with ease. The sting is slight, the fullness overriding any pain, further dulled by the suction of his mouth on your clit.

He even hums when he finds the spot he’s been looking for, hooking his fingers against it and pressing. (You swear you see stars; you know you feel him smile, lips spread like butter over your skin when you sob.)

You can’t help yourself, writhing and moaning, trying to ride his face with a desperation that has your chest heaving. It feels so good to have him between your legs. You almost miss the appearance of his other hand - in view for but a moment before it disappears past the waistband of his sweats. Dark as they are, pitch black like most of his clothing, it’s impossible to miss the way he touches himself. It has you even needier, pussy clenching at the thought of him fisting his own hard cock.

“Do you want a hand?” You ask as if you’re doing him a favour and not salivating at the prospect, eyes wide, blinking down at him from behind thick lashes.

“Fuck.” He’s sin incarnate, undeniable when he sheds his sweats, kicks them off with just one hand, other still slotted snug against your pussy. He never ceases his movements, fucking you on his fingers even as he sits upright, leaned back on his calves. “You want a taste? Shy girl wants a big fat cock in her mouth?”

There's something about hearing him so turned on, the expletive shooting a dizzying bolt of desire straight between yours legs. You’ve seen Jungkook worked up - he was awfully competitive, after all, dominating most intramural sports, breaking PR records in the gym - but it's something else completely when he's making you drip cum all over his hand.

"Wow.”

Jungkook's cock is pretty, flushed and glossy from the pre-cum he spreads with his thumb, massaging over the tip like it owes him something.

You want to taste it.

A contented hum rolls off your tongue at his question, though you don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. His ego's big enough without it and you’re much more interested in stroking something else. Still, you lean into his palm, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of it when he threads his hand through your hair, gathering it in his fist.

Then without looking away, your mouth falls open, tongue peeking past your lips to lick a fat stripe up the length of his cock, from base to tip. It's hot and heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum better than candy. You hum again, swirling your tongue around the head, and keep your gaze locked with Jungkook's, almost smirking when you drag your tongue over his fingers, gently grazing the edge of your teeth against the pad of his thumb.

“Please.” You’re usually far more reserved, not the kind to ask for more until you’re three months into dating and certain of where you stand. You simply can’t help yourself now, the feeling of your own wetness painting your skin, making you clench around nothing. "I need it."

The groan that comes sounds more like Christmas, a gift given by Santa Claus himself. It filters into your ears and has you grinning up at him, not even bothering to hide the pride that flutters your lashes and has you pursing your lips around the head of his cock.

When he speaks again, it’s dangerously quiet, low in his throat, laced with whatever same emotion that seems to shackle your limbs. “Open up, ____,” he instructs, though he offers little time to adjust, guiding his cock forward, stuffing your mouth full. “Show me how bad.”

You don’t mind. If you were to speak, it’d practically be a prayer, tongue tracing the veins that run the length. A chorus of yes please more when he takes just as much as he gives. You love the power that comes with Jungkook speaking so filthily, drunk on it when he continues, spewing filth in time with each rock of his hips.

Lips seal around the swollen head each time he withdraws, cheeks hollowing around the tip. Tongue passes over his fingers again before your hand rises, fingers curling around his wrist to pull his own away. (You probably shouldn't - it's too romantic - but thread your fingers through his in the same instant you sink down upon his cock, taking him halfway before pulling off with a pop!)

"Do you think you'll last long enough to fuck me?" You’re pushing his buttons on purpose, just like he had yours during the movie.

Something close to a snarl comes, a growl that reverberates out of that big cavernous chest of his, and he grips your hair tighter, tries to hold you still as he grins down at you. The expression is so at odds with the warmth in his eyes, the boyish tilt of his head.

You repeat the motion again and again, taking him a little bit deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, reflexively swallowing around the intrusion. He's still so long and thick you haven’t even taken him all, drooling around his length, breathing through your nose and pushing past the desire to gag. Then you relax your jaw just a little more, humming when your nose brushes the neatly groomed patch of hair at his base.

Your free hand slinks across his thigh, nails digging into the meat, delighted by the flex of muscle and sinew beneath your hand. He's so hard, both on your tongue and beneath your touch. It prompts you to shift forward just a bit more - you can feel the slick on your thighs, dripping down onto the sheets with each movement - and trace across his thigh to gently palm his balls.

If you could speak, you’d probably ask for more. For Jungkook to use and abuse your throat as much as he wants. As it stands, you can only moan around him, spit and his pre-cum smeared over your lips.

“Look at you.” He’s talking to himself, lost in his own world as he fucks into your mouth, soothes the pad of his thumb over your cheek. You adore the way he sounds now, dazed and a little messed up. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, ____.”

You can’t do much more than look up at him, batting your lashes when he compliments you, dragging your tongue everywhere you can reach as the head of his cock batters the back of your throat. It's not an easy feat, drool all the way down your chin, trailing down your neck and staining the silk of your camisole.

At some point, you’ll need to pull off - get a proper breath of air - but not now. Instead, you swallow around him, savouring the feeling of him filling your mouth, and squeeze gently at his balls. When you wink up at him, it's half-hearted and with moisture in your eyes, lining lashes in the form of little gemstones.

You do it again and again, moaning lewdly around his cock before it gets too much, pulling off of him with a gasping breath and tears down your cheeks. “Is it my turn yet?” You’re only half-joking, made needier by the soreness in your throat, the same you want to feel so desperately between your legs. Pressing a sweet, chaste peck to his head, tongue dipping into his slit to gather the pre-cum that leaks out, you offer the sweetest smile you can, saccharine sweet and soft.

“Your turn?” The way Jungkook snorts is derisive, playful. It pulls straight off his tongue - which finds yours, swapping spit as he guides you back to the bed. Teeth collide, lips grown swollen by the intensity of your kiss, and you startle when he nips hard at the bottom petal. “I thought you were shy.”

“I am,” you retort, returning the gesture, biting into the curve of his jaw with surprising repose. Colour blooms beneath the edge of enamel, a smattering of colour that makes you smile, eager to leave more.

Which you would do, if Jungkook weren’t stripping before you, peeling his shirt from his front, tugging it over his head in that weirdly hot way that somehow all boys did. It reveals skin in a single fluid pull, clothing discarded to the side before he levels you with a smile of his own, one that stirs to life the dimple in his cheek, eyes squinting with the intensity of his delight. He looks deceptively sweet this way, nothing like the demon who’d just stuffed his cock down your throat.

You’re not sure which version of him you like best.

Seeing him now, dressed in nothing but that absurd, devilishly handsome grin of his, you’re not prepared. You’re unsure where to look, gaze bouncing between the tattoos that crawl up his arms and span over his left pec, down the neatly defined ridges of his abs, and all the way back to his swollen, shiny cock.

“You’re drooling.” Of course it’s something he’d say - because he always knows what to say, plucking perfect words from thin air. The casual banter calms the rattle in your chest and refocuses it on his face that’s too close, looming over yours as his hands make quick work of your clothes, shedding the fabric from your form with deft, measured movements.

You’re ready to say something teasing - anything to distract from the fact that you’re still ogling him - when he catches you in another kiss, softer this time, infinitely sweeter. Suddenly, you’re shy - which really makes no sense, given what’s transpired.

"Don't make fun of me," you mumble, as bashful as you were during the movie, embarrassment burning across your cheeks. Arms rise to cover what little of your chest you can, folding around his broad palms that encompass them whole, tweaking at the straining buds.

“I’m not,” Jungkook reassures against your lips, face dropping into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles against you, sucking affection into the column of your throat, shamelessly laying a wreath of lust into the delicate skin. You wonder whether he can hear the stutter of your pulse, the reaction his next words elicit. “You’re pretty when you do it.”

You can’t quite pull your eyes away from his face, shrouded in lemon tart, so good-looking it’s unfair; his broad back and the muscle that threads it, undulating with each movement; or the way his thighs flex between your spread knees. You’re dragged through heaven and hell by the brush of his lips, each glide overstimulating your senses to the point of no return. You’re still burning up, all the foreplay leaving your legs like jelly, cunt dripping with need. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Probably not the best thing to say with the position you’re in but the reality of the situation is hitting you and you’re feeling a little vulnerable. Want an answer that’ll soften the sharp edges of his teeth, the intoxicating glint in his stare.

“No, just you.” Whether it’s true or not, you can’t say for certain. You hope it is - wish upon a star for it, laying all your hopes and dreams into the constellations in his eyes. They’re lovely, winking down at you from the darkest depths, guiding you home.

You don’t mean to scoff - really, you don’t. It comes of its own accord, spilling forth like a glass too full.

“You don’t believe me?” He sounds almost offended, the picture of innocence when he reaches down, hand scrambling about for pooled black fabric. Comes back up with a packet between his index and middle finger, held aloft like a prize.

How can you when he’s ready to devour you whole, primed to feast as he rolls the condom over his length, stroking himself once, twice, gaze never wavering from where it rests between your legs.

“Always prepared.” It’s scathing but somehow tender, too mesmerised by the way he fucks into his loose fist. You’d say more - maybe make a flippant comment about his reputation - but can’t find the words when he’s teasing you, swollen head tapping teasingly over your core. It feels like too much, leaves you breathless when he hikes your legs up and nearly folds you in half.

When he presses into you, the sound you make is sinful, a moan you can’t help. Jungkook’s so fucking big you’re sure you’re about to split in half, pussy clenching tight around the sudden intrusion. “Oh my god,” you whine, hands coiling into his hair, trying desperately to relax, the sting of the stretch battling the pressure that builds as he sinks further in. “You’re so big. I c-can’t—” You’re starting to babble nonsense and he hasn’t even begun moving yet, lips hot over the sweat-slick column of his throat when he bows, burning his presence into the grace of your neck. A hickey of your own creation blooms right where your mouth is, right over his shoulder. The salt of his skin distracts you, makes it easier to accommodate the fullness. “You feel so good, Kook.” You rock experimentally beneath him, clenching tight as if to draw him deeper. “Please, move,” you beg, aiming to form another bruise beneath his skin.

The first thrust chases all the breath from your lungs, a gasp ricocheting off your tongue and into the minimal space between you. He's absurdly big, stretching you out so well that every stroke feels like heaven. When he pushes back in, snaps his hips in that easy, effortless motion of his, you’re making the most obscene noises, words lost to his hair as he lavishes your tits with attention.

B-big! is all you manage to squeak out. It sounds like that, anyway. With how he's filling you, it's hard to speak coherently; you can practically feel him in your throat. (Or maybe that's just from choking on him earlier. You’re not really sure.)

Hands find their way around his neck, over his shoulders, periwinkle-painted nails leaving light etchings in their wake. They bloom colour over his back - not too hard, careful still, motor skills barely functioning - before you tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him recklessly close as the pressure builds and builds, flooding your abdomen in heat.

There’s slick all across your thighs. You can hear the wet sounds each time Jungkook slips almost all the way out and then rocks back in. It's terribly messy and so hot but you’re greedy, drunk off the feeling of having this Adonis break you in half. "Harder, p-please." Eyes wide, you tug gently at the soft strands at the nape of his neck, meeting his with a flutter of your lashes. "Please?"

He acquiesces without hesitation, fucks you harder, deeper, like an animal in a rut. Grinds against you with each thrust, pushing you to your limits. Even has the audacity to push further, until the strain in your hips conflicts with the pleasure skipping up your spine, melting you into a boneless mass.

You’ve never felt like this, stretched out and used. You’re used to gentle lovers, sweet - if not boring - lovemaking. The way Jungkook's pounding into you is unheard of and you’re loving it, his name whimpered on a feedback loop. A steady Kook, Kook, Kook that twinkles in your ears, inarticulate and pleading as you rock shamelessly against him.

“You like that, ____?” It’s a question for his own ego, something he knows but asks anyway. (It’d be impossible not to know the answer when your cunt’s sucking him in, coating his cock in a pretty sheen.)

You’re nodding dumbly, breathless, eager to meet him each time he snaps forward. (It’s not easy like this, practically prone beneath him, twisted into a pretzel.) "Like it so m-much. Feels so good.” You can’t stop smoothing open mouthed kisses over his fluffy hair, basking in the sunshine that radiates off him.

There's an ache starting between your legs, pussy swollen around his thick length. You’re grateful for your natural flexibility, the hot yoga sessions you’d entertained on-and-off for years. You’re sure you’d feel it in your legs too, knees pushed all the way up by your ears, if not for that.

But still, you’re defenceless, made to experience each and every thing he has to offer: every vein and ridge, the head of his cock reaching so deep it's almost too much. With each stroke, Jungkook’s brushing against the sensitive spot that has pleasure skyrocketing, blossoming like a rose garden in spring. "R-right there," you manage, rolling your hips purposefully, nearly crying each time he brushes against your g-spot.

“Right there?” He parrots it back, infuriating and adorable, the teasing tenor dripping over you like raindrops. They settle beneath your skin, sinking into your bones as he rears back just enough, enough to steal a kiss that’s far more tongue than it needs to be.

It’s almost as if he’s trying to drown you, sink you beneath high tide.

Spit descends down your chin, trails over your neck and it’s a little gross but you don’t care. The attention he’s giving is shameless, passed over your cheeks, your throat, your breasts. He gives and gives, both with his lips and the praise that comes unfettered. “Perfect,” he hums, sucking your nipple into his mouth, worrying the bud until it’s straining and puffy, too sensitive when he kisses you again and your own thigh brushes against it. You whimper at the feeling, pulling softly at his hair, unsure whether you want less or need more. “So sensitive. Such a shy girl. Such a pretty girl.”

Every word of praise has you beaming, nearly purring with delight despite the pain that comes when he puts you through the same once more, laving over the other bud with abandon. He's sweat-slick, beads of it running down his neck, over the mosaic of bruises you’ve left behind. It's almost embarrassing how dark his throat is coloured, a dozen reminders left all over his skin.

(You wonder how long they’ll last, how many days will pass as the colour shifts, changing like autumn leaves. Whether they’ll still be there at your next lecture, if he’ll wear them with pride or cover up beneath one of his big baggy sweaters.)

(You hope it’s the latter.)

(Maybe he’ll let you give him more.)

(Maybe he—)

There’s a change of pace and you’re crying out, hiccupping with each thrust, the head of his cock finding your g-spot with unbearable, unrelenting precision. Clawing at his arms, long nails digging into the firm muscle of his biceps, something between a sob and a plea rolls off your tongue, over and over. "So big. It's too m-much.” And yet you don’t want him to stop, punch drunk from the way he reaches deep and pulls you tighter against him, hips risen off the bed.

You’re begging again, eyes rolled so far back in your head you can hardly focus, the coil in your stomach pulled so tight you know it's about to snap. When Jungkook laughs - a sweet giggle that proves his duality - you clench almost painfully, tears finally spilling over.

One last brush against your most sensitive spot, one last thrust of that monster cock, and you’re peaking, coming so intensely you feel as if you’re soaring. Everything's suddenly so much more wet, release soaking into the linens beneath you, coating your thighs and his legs and dripping between you.

You’ve never come like this before, without some sort of direct stimulation on your clit. It’s pleasurable in a different way, severing all your sensibilities, explosive in its magnitude. It tingles beneath your skin, flooding all your senses.

"Kook—please—come for me.” You’re rocking up, forward - trying to, at least, folded as you are - singing his name, pleading for him to fuck his cum into you (momentarily ignorant to the fact that you’ve been responsible, a thin wall of latex separating you from your fucked out fantasy).

Despite the sensitivity, you’re clenching around him, eager to bring him to his own high. You want to feel him come apart above you, eroded into a mess like you are.

He’s just as pretty reaching his peak as he is at any other time, handsome face screwed up as if he’s reached nirvana, bliss slacking his features the longer he rides it out, bucking into you as he fills the condom and still doesn’t stop. It’s almost unbearable, oversensitivity spilling into pleasure until he leisurely grinds to a halt, stops the inconsistent pressure against your bundle of nerves, the assault on your fluttering walls.

When he collapses against you, whole face squished between the valley of your breasts, you can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and endeared. “Are you okay?” You don’t mind where he is, weight comforting, skin sticky on yours. He’s unbelievably warm - a blanket fresh from the wash and yet so much better, lulling you into a sense of security.

“Better than okay,” he murmurs against your chest, smothering open-mouthed kisses over skin, snickering when you jolt at the feel of his teeth over your nipple one last time. “You’re welcome.” It’s an indulgent, facetious expression of gratitude, one that you haven’t asked for. You laugh all the same, ducking your head into the crown of spun gold atop his head.

“You too.”

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @codeinebelle

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

Text

Three is a Crowd

Pair: Remus Lupin x Reader x Sirius Black; he/him.

Summary: Sirius, you and Remus weren't scared to hide your relationship, but when it came to more.. Private matters, they obviously preferred keeping it personal. Plus, who doesn't love teasing Remus?

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), dirty talk, poly relationship, Wolfstar (but is that even a warning?), hair pulling, short mention of daddy. use of a collar at the end. If I missed any, please dm me.

Notes: Me, knowing damn well I have a busy life, but takes every request I get because I can’t say no. Oh, and the gif by me using other people's gifs- Might make a part two. Top Remus tho.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

It wasn’t hard to catch the boy's attention. James and Lily loved to joke that they were wrapped around your finger, which they were. All you had to do was sway your hips a little bit or bend over right or just lick your lips innocently. They really were, they weren't afraid to admit it and of course you used it to your advantage, but you still love them. That always came first.

Sirius and Remus had fallen head over heels for you during their time during Hogwarts. Both could pinpoint it exactly. The two men were already an item when you showed up at the school- a transfer student. You were introduced to them by Lily, something about you being a distant cousin of hers and you quickly became a new founded Marauder.

Remus fell for you first. It was around the time they were all studying to become animagus and he discovered you were bloody brilliant! After months of struggling with the stupid ritual, you were the final piece they needed to figure it all out. And you didn’t judge him over something he couldn’t control, so that was a bonus to him, of course. But how could you judge him for his lycanthropy? Almost everyone in the wizarding world hated him for this one simple thing,

Meanwhile, Sirius’ was a lot more simple. He noticed you by your slick comebacks. Like holy Merlin’s beard- Sirius was convinced your words could cause someone to physically combust. He’d never seen that happen, but he has seen you make 8th years cry. He’s also a hundred percent certain you have a thesaurus lying under your pillow. He didn’t know the word ‘imbecile’ had so many synonyms. And you helped him help his best friend so of course he fell in love with you.

So, when you fell for them, a natural love for being between both boys formed. This random craving would kick in whenever you were around the two of them. Whether it was you three walking to the next class or sitting in the Gryffindor common room, you just had to be between them. It was quite literally your favorite place on this planet. But there were rules- of course there were.

One of the main rules was no teasing in front of friends. Believe it or not, James had a limit on how much sexual tension he could sit through in one lunch period, so he enforced the rule, which was.. Unusual to say the least. Usually Remus created the rules to keep you and Sirius in check. He had a switch and a sub under his belt and it could be a struggle, especially when they were bratty and they’d team up against him.

Which is exactly what you two had been doing all day; harassing poor Moony despite whoever was near. During potions, Sirius had palmed Remus while you playfully whispered in the werewolf’s ear, calling him daddy and asking for help with your most innocent voice. Watching your boyfriend squirm and slap Sirius’ hand away was genuinely humorous. It became down right funny when he threatened to punish both of you by not talking to you, but you both knew he’d do more than that. Knowing Remus would drag you both by your ties to the dorm room and straight up ruin you two, you both eased off him, letting him continue his notes in peace, but once potions were over, the teasing immediately continued.

Soon enough, classes were over and the three of you were walking back to the dorms. It was easy to see Remus was sick of your shit, so while he led you to his prefect room, you and Sirius were looking at each other. Sirius shrugged, looking as laid back as he felt, but you were a tad more nervous. Sometimes Remus could be downright mean.

“You two are insufferable!” Remus hollered, his hand rubbing his temple as he shoved open his door. “I know you love my reactions, guys, but seriously? Was grabbing my ass over my robe necessary?” He had his arms crossed over his chest and turned around to glare at you and Sirius.

“You know it was, baby.” Sirius winked while shutting the door behind him. He walked around you, dragging a hand across your lower back before diving onto Remus’ bed. He laid on his back, spreading his legs and placing his hands behind his head. Your eyes shamelessly dragged across the sliver of pelvic bone peaking out under his white collared shirt.

“I thought it was a bit much.” You shrugged, looking over to Moony’s glowing eyes. A smirk grew across your lips when he pointed at you, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Being a kiss ass does not mean you’re free, mister. You’re in just as much trouble as that one.” His point moved to the man laying on the bed, who clearly couldn’t care less. He ran a hand through his hair and plopped down onto the edge of the bed. He even smacked Sirius’ hand away when it gripped his hip. “Down, boy.”

“Ouchies! My pride.” Sirius mocked your voice and rubbed his hand, a chuckle leaving his lips. He couldn’t help but lick his lips. His dark eyes flicked over to you, his smirk growing as he nodded his head in the direction of Remus’ back.

“Good. I’m mad at you.” The werewolf ducked his head down before running a hand through his hair, making the curly locks messier than usual. He beckoned you over with two curling fingers and waited patiently for you to stand in front of him. Once you were in arms reach, he cupped both of your cheeks in each hand and smiled at you, bringing your face closer to his. “What am I going to do with you?” He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips.

“I’m not sure, but I know Sirius technically did more damage than I did. I’m your bestest boy.” You grinned, grabbing his wrists and kissing a palm. Your grin turned into a side smirk when Sirius let out a weak ‘hey!’ behind your brunette boyfriend.

Suddenly, Remus’ arms were twisting around your waist and he was falling backwards onto the bed, taking you down with him. You let out a yelp while colliding with your soft boyfriend's chest.

“I think I know what I’m going to do with you.” Remus’ head was resting on Sirius’ tummy, allowing the animagus to run his fingers through soft hazel nut locks, which Remus easily ignored. Meanwhile, Lupin was cheekily slipping his hand under your shirt. His calloused palms glided across your skin, rubbing your hip gently before moving up to your belly. “I’m going to ignore the little bastard behind me and I’m going to focus on you, pretty boy.”

“Hey! (Y/n) messed with you too, Rem! You’re being unfair!” Sirius sat up a little, bracing his body weight on his elbows as he glared down at his freckle covered partner. His jaw dropped when Remus flicked his nose before skillfully tugging your shirt over your head. “Un-fuckin’-believable.” Sirius grumbled, laying back on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Your smart mouth is why I’m ignoring you.” Remus spoke nonchalantly, one hand slipped into your back pocket, gave your butt a tight squeeze, while the other steadily began climbing toward your chest. His hand in your pocket held your hips down while his hips grinded up into yours. His eyes darkened at the needy whine that left your lips when his rough thumb pad ran over one of your nipple.

See, Remus always enjoyed seeing you react to him. He could write down all of it. He could fill enough books with his favorite things about you to cause an empty Hogwarts library to overflow. How your eyes would roll back into your skull, how your jaw would go slack with need and how your breath catches in the middle of your throat, leaving you breathless, how you’d moan his name. He loved wrecking you, utterly destroying you.

His scar covered hand moved up to your hip, getting a steadier grip so he could really raise his hips and roll them against yours. The hand on his chest delicately rolled a nipple between the thumb and forefinger. He thought you were a piece of art, painted just for him. Your heart was pounding in your ears. Remus was quickly becoming the only coherent thought in your head. You could smell his perfume and it was only fogging up your head worse than his touch. You let out a moan, your eyelids drooping a tad.

"You like that, baby?" he whispered into your open mouth, kissing the corner before sliding his lips down to the corner of your jaw. He licked a fat, flat line across the point, running up to your earlobe before sucking on it.

The werewolf grinded up into you harder, a growl emitting from his throat that would scare even the toughest of creatures. He let out a loud, breathy loan when you nodded and copied his hip movements.

"Of course you do. You're not a brat or a whiney bitch- you're perfect."

Suddenly, Sirius was sitting up and Remus was going silent, almost frozen in his place. Both were listening quite intently over your heavy breathing when loud, stomping footprints made themselves known. Sirius watched in amusement while Remus threw you on to the empty bed space next to him and magicked a blanket over the both of you.

James was pushing open the door about as loudly and hazardously as his footsteps. The door bounced off the wall and collided with his still outstretched arm. You sat up, slowly coming back from the pleasure filled bliss, and slowly becoming more and more pissed you just got cock-blocked by one of your more oblivious friends.

“James, sorry, mate, we’re in the mi-” Sirius was rudely cut off by the messy haired idiot. Spit flew from James’ mouth as he spoke aggressively, his hand waving around as he spoke.

"Can you believe him?!" the Seeker hollered, acting as if his friends, best friends knew immediately what he was talking about. He strode into the middle of the room, pacing in front of the polygamous couple, clearly pissed. It didn't take long for Peter to follow in after, either.

"No, Prongs, you're not exactly telling us anything." Remus spoke up, acting as if he totally wasn't just grinding against you. He was good at keeping his voice level and that it had you confused.

"Little Sour Grape Snape thinks he can try to push that whole fiasco on me like I meant for it to happen?" James yelled out again, almost completely ignoring Remus. Peter sat on the bed across from the trio, his eyes glued to James as he paced. You looked at Sirius, who turned to you, and shrugged, scooting to sit right next to Remus.

"Wanna share what's goin' on, Pete?" Sirius asked, finally scooting to be face to face with the soft boy, and sitting on the other side of Remus. His hand landed on Remus' thigh, gently rubbing over the blanket.

The chubby boy played with his fingers, his mouth opening quickly to tell the tale of Snape and his stupid complaining and blood status shit. However, Remus, nor you, could focus because Sirius’ hand was moving under the blanket and going straight between Remus’ legs.

The sun was setting behind the vast forest, effectively blocking natural light, leaving the room slightly colder and darker than before. Sirius knew it was hard to see what was going on under the blanket, so all carefulness got thrown out the window.

Sirius' hand slid between Remus' thighs, using a hand to hide his smirk. He nodded his head along, as if he was really listening and invested in the story. You turned to Sirius, following his arm and the lump under the blanket and got the idea- and it only became reinforced when Sirius gave you a dramatic wink.

Your own hand slid under the blanket, landing on your werewolf boyfriend's knee, you thumb caressing it gently. Your hand didn’t stay there long. You began to move it up, moving slowly, just inch by inch, stopping suddenly when Remus’ hand clamped around your wrist.

“Boys, stop it.” Remus growled out, but it seemed more directed to Sirius. You were worried for a second that James or Peter heard, but when they kept going on and on, delving deeper and deeper into the story, you realized they were absolutely clueless. You decided to test the waters, slowly running your hand down and then back up, a tad higher, but Moony left his hand on your wrist.

“I said, cut it out. Now.” The brunette’s voice was deep enough to cause a shudder to go down your spine and it went straight to your dick. You jumped when his hand landed on your thigh, giving you a warning squeeze that you once again ignored and moved your hand closer to the inside of his thigh.

You felt fingers run over yours at the top of his thigh and suddenly Remus’ thigh muscles were tightening. Padfoot had run his fingers over his hard-on. You knew you were both pushing it, but you kept going. You heard the brunette groan into his hand, his eyelids fluttering for a second before his gaze hardened and he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. You could hear the low growl emitting from this throat.

So while James and Peter told their elaborate and stupidly long story, you both teased your partner, enjoying how he tried to sit still and refused to even look at you two. Remus’ jaw was pulled tight, his eyes darker than the night, and his lips drawn into a thin line. Eventually, it came to an end, and the two left, James complaining loudly that no one cared like he did and suddenly the blanket was thrown across the room.

Remus stood up, giving you a glare that you couldn’t help but find hot as hell. You always loved riling him up, but you also loved managing to wiggle out of punishments. Sirius always bitched about you getting away nearly scot free, but you’d just blow raspberries at him. It was funny, honestly, not that you were laughing now. It was clear both of you took it too far.

“You two are in a whole heap of fucking trouble. I can not believe you today, especially you. You’re such a bad influence on my baby.” Remus pointed at Sirius, his brows drawn tight together in pure anger. His eyes were lit up like with fire and the veins on his neck were protruding from underneath the skin in the sexiest way. The simple feature had you clenching your thighs, hoping to release some tension or get a touch or something.

“Our baby. Besides, you’re overreacting Rem.” Sirius shrugged, leaning back on his hands. He blew a stand of hair out of his face, acting like everything was fine and dandy while his boyfriend had steam blowing out of his ears.

His simple sentence caused the brunette’s eye to twitch and you knew he had dug himself a bigger whole. You put your hands in your lap like a good boy and sat, watching the two argue, knowing it was going to be a very long night.

“Oh. I’m overreacting, huh? Do you wanna say that again?” His tone was so flat, almost like he was talking to an idiotic teenager who did exactly what he was told not to do, the messy haired animagus was sitting up quickly, realizing he fucked up- again.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant, baby, you’re getting my words twisted. I meant it’s my fault and that you might be getting a tad carried away. Please don’t be mad at me.” Sirius put on his most dazzling smile and softest voice. He was trying to do what you did so well and wiggle his way out of punishments. “Have I ever mentioned how hot you look when you're mad?”

It was funny, really, how Sirius was saying exactly what you were thinking.

“No, dove, I’m not mad at you.” Remus threaded his hand slowly through Sirius' wavy hair, a small, sweet smile spread across his cheeks. Sirius let out a sigh, a huge grin matching his boyfriends, his eyes sparkling with pure joy in the dim light.

"I'm glad you're so understanding, honey bunches. I love you so, so, so much." Sirius spoke, leaning forward, lips puckered to plant a kiss to the brunettes. You really thought he had known Moony better. Moony very, very rarely let either of you off the hook for something like this.

However, Remus didn't let him move very far. His fingers latched onto the hair at the top of Sirius' head and ripped it back, causing his neck to bend backward and a whorish moan escaped his lips. Siri’s hands shot up to grip the one tugging his head back and he had to strain his eyes to look at his Moony.

"I’m fucking livid, Sirius. You're such a slut. Surely you know me better than that. Have I ever let you get away with behavior like that?” Remus waited for an answer. He wasn’t very patient though, because soon, he was pulling on the long locks again. “Well?”

“No.” Sirius groaned out. He seemed grumpy he couldn’t cute his way out of this like he was sure you could. You figured you could probably avoid the punishment by sneaking out, knowing Remus wouldn’t send a search party after you. And if you made a good enough excuse, he’d let you go with a harsh spanking and the promise of no orgasms for the day, which didn’t seem too terrible.

“Do I have to treat you like a slut?" his lips pressed against a pulse point but didn't place a single kiss to Sirius' lips. "Maybe I should put a muzzle on your filthy mouth and tie you up. Put you in the closet while I fuck our dearest silly, hmm?"

Remus pulled away, this time tugging Sirius' eyes level with his. The werewolf let out a snicker, enjoying the way tears of pain had gathered in his boyfriends eyeline.

"I should teach you who's in charge. What do you say pumpkin?" Remus turned to the spot where you were seated and noticed it was empty. "Pumpkin?" He turned around and saw you trying to sneak out of the dorms door.

He reached into his pocket, tsking all the while casting a spell that caused a collar to appear around your neck with a pop. You let out a squeak, your heads going to the new leather.

"Do I have to put both of you in your place?” Remus pushed Sirius away and walked swiftly over to you, grabbing the d ring on the front of your collar. He gave it a tug, effectively keeping your eyes on his. “You’re not being my good boy, are you?”

“No..” Unlike Sirius, you answered quickly. You looked up at Remus, eyes wide, owlish and feigning innocence. “But I-”

“Quiet. You’re usually so good for me, darling. I bet you picked up the disrespect from our boyfriend, didn’t you? I’m gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you.” He tugged on the d-ring, dragging you with him as he walked back over to the bed. “Sirius, against the headboard.”

Without hesitation, the niorette shuffled toward the headboard, resting his back against it. He learned quickly to keep his mouth shut. With the new space made, Remus pushed you forward and laughed when your hands came out in front of you to catch your fall, but slipped on the silk bedspread. Your chest collided with the plush mattress, a pained cry leaving your lips when your knees collided with the wooden floor.

“Owie, Rem!” You turned to look back at him, but he grabbed your hair and forced your cheek against the mattress. You looked back at him, your cheeks turning pink with embarrassment and you tried to pout your way out of this, like usual.

“Shut up, bunny. Daddy’s not going easy on you this time, so be a good boy and take what I fucking give you.”

#sirius black x male reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black #remus lupin x male reader #Remus Lupin imagine #remus lupin #sirius black x male reader x remus lupin #hp imagine #remus lupin smut #sirius black smut #james potter #male reader #x male reader #Ronny Writes #hp marauders #marauders x male reader #marauders imagine #marauders smut #wolfstar x male reader

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

The Chase - One Shot

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Rating: explicit

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You bet Mando you could last two hours on the run without him catching you. Reluctantly, he agrees to the bet.

Warnings: outdoor (rough & unprotected) sex, hunter and hunted type of vibe, mild choking, being gagged, size kink, mando talks a lot during sexy time, maybe slight dom/sub mentions?

A/N: this is just my take on the whole “bounty hunter and quarry” fantasy. also I basically wrote the smut and then added context around it. this is pretty much shameless smut ///

*Masterlist can be found here**

It started out as innocent banter.

“I definitely think I could last a couple days,” you told him, slouching in the passenger seat inside the cockpit.

The modulator scoffed at you. “No.”

“Are you doubting my skills?” You asked, eyebrow cocked.

He swiveled his chair around to face you. “That’s not it.”

“Then tell me what it is, Mando.”

Even though you weren’t able to see what his expression was, you could tell by his body language that he was getting annoyed. The way his hands fidgeted at his sides, the way he leaned his body back in the chair—something he did every time you tried to rile him up about something. Despite the fact that he hid behind the beskar, he was generally easy to read whenever he was irritated.

“I bet I can last two days.”

“You wouldn’t last two hours, let alone two days.”

Now that was a challenge you didn’t want to back down from. Anytime someone told you that you couldn’t do something, it scratched that itch inside you to do that exact thing. Your incessant need to prove people wrong sometimes got the best of you, but Maker, the satisfaction you got from it was worth the consequences.

“I’ll take that bet,” you said to him, feeling your stomach stir.

“I wasn’t—”

“Too bad, Mando. You challenged me and I accept.”

And then the rest was history. All you had to do was last two hours without Mando tracking you down and then you could die happy knowing you evaded the best bounty hunter in the parsec, even if it were for a short period of time.

You’re not sure what planet Mando lands the Crest on but it’s definitely one of the quieter ones because he’s landed the ship in a large clearing with only woods as far as the eye can see. It’s not a problem for you, though. Growing up on Naboo meant you were always exposed to forests and clear landscape. In theory, this is the best place he could have chosen, not that you’d tell him that.

“There are some ground rules for this,” he begins to say, standing in the galley of the Crest.

“I’m all ears,” you answer back.

Mando lets out a chuff of air that crackles up through his vocoder, like he’s still considering calling this whole thing off, but after weeks of still not finding a Jedi for the kid, you both need a little distraction.

“First thing, no guns.”

“Okay, that’s understandable.”

“Secondly, you keep the commlink open at all times,” he orders.

“Not a problem,” lips curling into a smile, you already feel the adrenaline pump through your veins, body itching to get this whole bet started.

“Thirdly, if you somehow manage to last the day, we check in once it gets dark.”

“Ouch,” you take a step back, slightly offended at his jab. “You have so little faith in me.”

“I’m not the one overestimating my abilities,” he jests. Who knew Mando could be so snarky?

“Do we call it off at night and wait till dawn?”

“If you want to make to things easier.”

Oh, so that’s how he wants to play.

“All right, Mando. We don’t stop.”

“I don’t know how safe this planet it, but you shouldn’t run into any trouble.”

“Okay, yeah Mando, let’s do this,” you’re basically shaking from the thrill of all this. You can’t wait to show off your evading skills.

“I’ll give you an hour head start. Put as much distance between yourself and the Crest as you can.”

“Don’t worry, Mando. This isn’t my first time running away from someone,” you say with a smug smile.

“Fine,” his voice terse.

Your turn your back to him and face the open ramp. With your heart banging against your ribcage and your palms damp with sweat, this might be the most exhilarating thing you’ve ever done.

“Be safe, I’ll see you soon,” He says with a hint of mockery. He’s so confident in himself, it’s actually getting under your skin.

Looking over your shoulder, you hit him with your own jab, “We’ll see about that,” and then you’re descending the ramp.

Once your feet hit the ground, you think of the best direction to head towards. In order to do this successfully, you’ll need to choose every single one of your movements very carefully because any slip up could end up hurting your chances to win.

You hear your named being called, so you turn around to look back at the Crest and see Mando standing at the top of the ramp.

“When I do find you, try to put up a fight.”

That sends heat right to the apex of your thighs. If you didn’t have enough incentive, that was the last nail in the coffin. You’ll make this as hard for Mando as you possibly can.

You shoot him one last devilish grin and disappear from sight, opting to go to your right. Once you reach the forest edge, you break off into a sprint, heading deeper and deeper into the foliage.

The forest isn’t too dense, but there are roots everywhere on the ground and you stumble on a couple of them, nearly falling flat on your face. The positive to having so many branches and roots in the ground means the chances of your footprints showing up in the mud are low but Mando’s got a heat tracker on his helmet, meaning he can still track your movements without actually seeing your prints.

The adrenaline keeps telling you to run, run as fast as you can, but the rational part of your brain realizes that no matter how much distance you put between you and Mando, it won’t matter unless you have a clear plan as to what tactics you’ll need to use in order to make sure he doesn’t find you.

Should you try to find the closest village?

Should you stay in the forest?

Think, think…

You continue to put some more distance between you two and when you feel as though you’ve made some progress, you check the clock on your commlink.

2:50PM.

In ten minutes, Mando will leave the Crest and begin tracking you. You’ll have to start making important decisions soon. When you entered the planet’s atmosphere, you tried to pinpoint a specific spot that might give you some kind of advantage. If your memory serves you correctly, you saw a small area that appeared to be some kind of canyon. Ideally, that might be the perfect spot to find some shelter. A hard surface means no footprints.

Now if you could only find out how far away you are from it…

As you take in your surroundings—which is basically just trees and more trees, you think about finding a high enough viewpoint for you to see where this possible haven could be. A few metres away you happen to see a tree that appears to be much larger than the rest of the ones around it. Its branches look sturdy enough for a human to climb and it doesn’t take you long before you’re heading straight for it. You haven’t climbed a tree in years but if there was a perfect moment to touch-up on your skills, it’s right now.

As you climb up the stump, the branches and leaves break apart, and the sky begins to get clearer and clearer. When you finally reach the very top, you’re so high up that you’re able to spot what you were looking for. It looks like it’s a couple more clicks away, but you were lucky enough to be already heading in that direction. The Maker must be on your side.

One more look at the clock.

3:01PM.

Shit, you have to start moving.

If you start to climb down the tree, you’ll end up losing precious time, allowing Mando to close some of the distance. It’s something you can’t risk. Eyes scanning the woodland between you and your hideout, you come to the conclusion that you’ll have to jump from tree to tree and pray you don’t fall and break any bones. It’s incredibly risky, and your inner self is warning you against it. If you do fall, you’re screwed, breaking a lot of the bones in your body. You’ll have to hope that these branches will be able to carry your weight.

Trying to balance yourself on one of tree’s larger arms, you crawl across it on your knees, knowing damn well if you stood up, you’d lose your balance and fall down, and it would be a pretty big fall. You’re easily fifteen feet off the ground, maybe more. Fuck, this might have been a horrible idea, but it’s frankly too late to turn back, you’ve made up your mind and you need to go through with it.

The jump from the branch you’re currently on to the adjacent one you’ll be jumping onto is about four feet, but it’s not the jump that concerns you. What concerns you is the sturdiness of that branch. Will the impact cause it to snap? Will it make too much noise, letting Mando hear it? All these questions are racing through your mind as you hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The longer you consider it, the more time you waste. You’ll just have to take the chance and hope everything works in your favor.

“Okay… I can do this,” you whisper, psyching yourself up.

As you slowly rise to your feet, your legs are buckling. You take one last look down, fully realizing that this idea is absolutely bonkers and jump.

When your body hits the branch, you latch your arms around it, landing on your stomach. To your surprise, the branch doesn’t break off, it barely even moves.

Success.

You continue to leap from branch to branch, until the rest of trees in your wake look too unstable for you to leap onto. Luckily, the tree you’re currently on isn’t too far from the ground, so you’re able to climb down it in under five minutes before reaching the ground. Keeping still for a moment, you wait to hear something.

A twig snap, leaves rustling, anything, but you don’t hear a single sound.

“Did you actually climb these trees?” You hear Mando’s voice through the commlink on your wrist, which startles you.

Is he already there? He’s already so close, how is he already so fucking close to you?

“Um, no?” You reply.

“That’s convincing,” he answers dryly.

If Mando’s already reached the tree you started climbing at, then he’s really not far behind. You’ll need to start sprinting again. Without trying to make noise, you begin to tiptoe around the forest, trying to be as quick and efficient as you can. It doesn’t take long until you see a break in the forest and somehow quicken your tread to the clearing.

Once you reach the wood's edge, you’re about to take a step into the clearing when you stop yourself.

Kriff, if you step into that open field, you’ll be sticking out like a sore thumb, which is a risk you cannot take. Instead, you’ll have to walk along the sides of the clearing, keeping to the trees and hoping you won’t be spotted.

“Are you really about to step into that glade?”

Your breathing hitches, everything inside you is burning up, adrenaline nearly making you shake uncontrollably.

He’s found you.

He sees you.

Keeping very still, you turn your head in every direction, desperately trying to see where Mando is but you can’t see a fucking thing. You consider making a break for it—which direction, though? Do you turn around and head back into the forest and hope that you’ll be able to lose him in the trees? Do you stick to your guns and continue to make for the mountains?

“Better make up your mind quickly, pretty girl. Time’s running out,” he’s fucking taunting you. Mando knows exactly where you are and is relishing in watching you struggle in deciding what to do next.

There’s something incredibly titillating knowing that he’s watching you, right now. Predator watching prey, observing your every move, waiting for the perfect time to ambush you.

“What are the chances I outrun you?” You breathe into the speaker on your wrist, chest puffing in and out heavily.

Mando doesn’t answer right away, mulling over your question. “Very slim.”

“But not impossible?”

You’re sizing yourself up. You know damn well there isn’t a chance you lose him, not when he’s got eyes on you, but you have an advantage on him. Carrying all that armor on his body makes his movements more abrupt, meaning he’s less agile and relies more on his weapons to catch a bounty rather than his own speed. All you need to do is outrun him, make yourself impossible to catch and then maybe, just maybe, you can reach the other end of the forest without getting snatched.

“What are you planning?”

“’Put up a fight’,” you repeat the last words he said to you. “That’s what you said, right?”

“Yes?”

“Well… Come get me.”

And then you’re racing into the glade, your legs moving as fast as you possibly can. The air whipping passed the burning hot skin on your face, lungs feeling like they’re on fire, you’re running so much faster than you ever thought you could. Maker, you didn’t even know you could sprint this fast. Taking one quick look back over your shoulder, you see Mando break out from the forest edge, racing after you. He’s a couple metres behind you, but he seems to be closing the gap between you quicker than your efforts to gain distance.

Starting to panic, you make a sharp turn to the left, hoping he’ll be caught off guard, giving you just a few more seconds to stretch out the distance.

“I’ll give it to you, you’re much quicker than I thought,” he pants.

You’re so close to the forest, just a few more sprints. With your legs burning and getting tired, these last few metres are either going to make or break you, but with the determination to prove him wrong, you refuse to give up. You can almost taste freedom… just one more step—

And then you’re falling to the ground. Face slamming into the grass so hard, your vision goes fuzzy, and your head is pounding, hearing a faint ringing in your ears. When you turn over on your back, you look down at your legs and see your feet wrapped up in grappling line. Still in somewhat of a daze, you try to unravel the coil from your ankles with haste before Mando can close in on you. The tall grass shields your view, stopping you from seeing anything until it’s directly in your face, which mean he can be just a few feet away without you even knowing it. If you have any chance at slipping passed him, you need to move very fast.

Just as the cord untangles from your legs and you jump to your feet, you see Mando standing in front of you, just a little further than arm’s length away. Standing in place, you freeze up like a prey animal being spotted by its predator. Maker, he’s intimidating, carrying himself with such confidence and gusto that it could make even the more fearless predator cower in his presence and because you can’t see his expressions, you have no idea what he’s thinking under that bucket of his.

“Well, you managed to last two hours,” he notices after checking the time on his vambrace.

Relaxing your shoulders and readying yourself to break off into a sprint for the woods, you cock your head to side and chuckle. “Technically, you haven’t caught me yet.”

He tilts his head ever so slowly to the side, chest puffing out. With caution, he takes a step forward and in turn, you step back, maintaining the little distance between you two.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself.”

“When have I ever made it easy for you?”

The visor’s locked on you. Both of you stand incredibly still, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“Don’t run,” he warns.

It’s impossible to ignore the stirring in your stomach. It’s time to face the facts, you’ve already been defeated. There’s not a chance in hell you can possibly win this. You fucked up, somehow. Maybe you shouldn’t have started climbing trees, maybe you should have gone left instead of right. None of those things matter anymore. The only thing that matters how is what your next move is.

“Isn’t this what you really wanted?” His voice hitting low in the register.

Oh?

Does he mean what you think he means? Your pussy gushes, and you’re hit in the face with reality.

You would have to be a fool not to notice the way Mando looks at you on the Crest, and how you look at him. There’s clearly chemistry between you two, maybe even infatuation. It’s been three months since you started travelling with him which means there’s been three months’ worth of sexual tension. Both of you felt it, the electricity in the air whenever you were alone together. The air would get thick, your heartrate would quicken, and you’d wait for him to make a move, but he never did. Whenever you felt like that day was finally the day he’d let go of his devices and fuck you senseless on his ship, he’d retreat to the cockpit and lock himself up for hours, leaving you to take care of yourself in the fresher. It was enough to get the job done, but you wanted him, and you know he felt the same.

So, yeah, you’d be lying to yourself if that idea hadn’t crossed your mind. Getting him in his element, force him to come after you, and when you finally gave in or rather, when he found you, he’d be so caught up in the moment that all the sexual tension that had been building up for the last three months would climax at this very moment. What you couldn’t have anticipated was Mando figuring all of this out and actually calling you out on it.

Slacking your jaw, you lick your bottom lip, staring at the ‘T’ of his visor, realizing that this whole bet was just a façade—that the real reason you started this whole wager was to rile him up.

Mando body shifts, his fingers flexing at his sides.

“Been wanting it for three months, Mando,” you challenge.

He makes a guttural noise in his throat, and now you know you’ve got him. It’s taken three months to get you where you are now. Three months of walking around the Crest, swaying your hips purposely in hopes he’d look at you as you walked by. Three months of not so innocent touches on whatever part of him you could touch. Three months of soft moans and groans, trying to get his attention.

All your hard work is finally going to pay off.

Mando tries to close the gap between you, taking a step towards you. Being the brat you are, you step back.

“You’re really going to make this difficult?” He asks—very much a rhetorical question.

“Come get me, Mando,” the words slip off your tongue, once again trying to entice him.

A game of chicken.

Who’s going to make the first move? Is Mando going to charge for you? Do you let him? Do you turn and try to run away?

In a flash, Mando leaps forward and you’re just quick enough to dodge him, whipping your body towards the forest’s edge and taking large strides forward. You barely make it three feet before there’s more grappling line squeezing your ankles together. Once again, you land on your stomach with just barely enough time to cover your face with your hands.

Now, you know there’s no way you’d be able to get up in time and still somehow slip through his fingers, not that it was ever the point of this bet. You thoroughly enjoyed the thrill of being on the run and having Mando chasing after you but you’re way more interested in what’ll happen next than actually winning.

It’s takes a few seconds for you to get your bearings, and as soon as you begin to push yourself upright, you’re being shoved back into the ground by Mando using his bodyweight against you. He straddles either side of your legs, pushing them together.

“If this is what you wanted, all you had to do was ask,” Mando’s voice suddenly whispers in your ear, pressing himself into your body. He bucks his hips against your ass, his erection nuzzled between your cheeks. Propping himself on his elbows so he doesn’t suffocate you with his weight, one of his hands grab hold of your waist, digging into your flesh.

Trying to arch your back, you push your ass out to grind against his cock even more. Maker, you want him so fucking badly. Being fucked in an open field where anyone could see you, it’s daring and intoxicating.

Your hands fumble to your pants, trying to unbutton them and slide them down your thighs. Mando senses your urgency and swats your hands away and then his body leaves you momentarily, just long enough for him to tug your trousers down to your knees. It’s rushed, and you’re already panting underneath him, the anticipation eating you up from the inside.

A leather gloved hand grazes your lips, then he’s pushing two fingers in your mouth. The tastes of earth and salt lingering on your tongue.

“Bite,” he instructs.

You oblige and the glove comes off, discarded just inches away from your face. Without skipping a beat, his naked hand travels down your side, and with your ass in the air, he palms your stomach, keeping you in place and forcing you to arch your back even more. The pool of arousal in your stomach is making you squirm, getting more impatient as the seconds go by.

Mando takes his time trailing your lower belly, fingers barely grazing your skin. Your breathing is completely erratic, panting heavily into the ground. When he finally cups your sex, your breath hitches, a sharp inhale escapes your lips.

“Stars, you’re fucking soaked already,” he admires, and then two calloused fingertips are rubbing tight circles on your clit.

Writhing underneath him, you can barely keep still. The pleasure is overwhelming, something you’ve been waiting for for so long, you can’t believe this is really happening

Your hands grab at his waist with haste, trying to remove his pants but because you can’t see what you’re doing, you’re just aimlessly grabbing at him. He sees you struggling and lifts himself off of you. Hearing a small scuffle, he presses his body into your back again, and you feel his freed cock between your cheeks. Maker, he’s huge… is it possible for someone to feel this big when he hasn’t even stuck it in you yet?

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks breathlessly, his own pants scratching low in his helmet.

“Y-y-yes, please,” you croak, your throat already bone dry.

Gathering as much of your slick on his hand as he can, you feel him smear it all over his length and with your ass still shoved up against him, he teases your entrance with his tip. Hands grabbing at his hips with urgency, he actually fucking chuckles and then starts burying himself inside you.

Stars, he’s fucking huge, it almost burns how much he’s stretching your walls. Your eyes wrench shut so hard; you’re seeing stars. It feels like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs, you can’t even make a sound as your jaw fucking drops. He buries himself deeper and deeper—kriff you’re not sure how much more you can take. Your body freezes once he’s fully inside you, teasing your cervix with his head.

“F-f-fuck, you’re tight,” he breathes out once he’s filled you to the hilt. Steadying himself on his palms, his cuirass leaves your back, but he doesn’t move. He just sits there, giving you time to acclimate to his size. “I’ll try to be gentle—”

“No,” you say, cutting him off. “Please, j-just, fuck—do what you want,” you’re basically sobbing already, and he hasn’t even begun to fuck you.

He slowly pulls out and when you feel just the head still inside you, he slams into you so hard, you jerk forwards and cry out, your whole body stilling from being so full.

“You have to be quiet, someone might hear,” he tells you gently, pulling out again ever so slowly.

In an effort to stifle your moans, you bite down hard on your bottom lip, and when he bucks his hips and crashes into you again, you’re unable to stop the shriek that escapes you. Balancing himself on one arm, he grabs the discarded glove by your face and stuffs it into your mouth, gagging you with it and then begins really fucking you.

He drives his cock into you at a grueling speed, stopping his rhythm momentarily to roll his hips against your ass, making sure you feel every fucking inch of him. Whatever pathetic noise tries to slip through your lips is muffled by leather and you’re grateful for it because your cries would echo through the field if not for the glove.

Mando drops his weight back on you, feeling his breastplate dig into your back. He lets his cock just sit there as his naked hand wraps around your neck, applying pressure with two fingers. He resumes his pace, jackhammering your pussy with so much force, his balls slapping against your skin echo through the clearing.

“Shit, this—this is what you wa-anted?” He hisses, never once relenting his rhythm.

You couldn’t have planned for how mind-blowing this is. The daydreams, the dreams while you slept, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. Nothing in your imagination even comes close to the actual feeling of Mando fucking you senseless in the middle of an open area. You’re so close to your climax already, something no other person has even gotten close to doing. Mando knows how to fuck, how to reach the right spots inside you, how to drive you fucking insane.

“Yes, ah-shit, yes Mando, please, please, it feels so good,” you babble, your mind unable to come up with a coherent thought; instead, you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, and when you squeeze your eyes shut, they begin streaming down your face.

“Be a good girl and come all over my cock,” he grits out between thrusts.

The grass is tickling your face, he pushes you deeper in the ground with every plunge, and then your orgasm rips through you, waves of white-hot pleasure crashing over you, electrifying your body from the inside out. Clawing at the ground and grabbing fistfuls of dirt, your body tenses and untenses at the same time, you can barely breathe. His hand is still pressing into your neck, making you dizzy from the limited air you can actually take in, as well as your climax punching out of you.

“Yes, fuck—ah shit—stars, you feel so fucking good.”

Mando doesn’t like to talk very much, only speaking when directly addressed, but now he’s a mess. He praises you, repeating words of admiration like it’s a prayer he tells himself at night and knowing you’re the reason for all this chatter just fills you up with pride.

He has incredible stamina, so he doesn’t need to pause in order to catch his breath very often. Mando continues to drill into you with such speed and force, you don’t know how much more you can take. It’s so much better than you thought it could be, you never could have predicted Mando to be so good at fucking you. He knows exactly how to treat your body, how to get the most pleasure out of you, it’s like he already knows you better than you know yourself. His cock rams that spot deep inside you that’s never been touched, nearly blinding you and causing your mind to go blank. You curse the Maker for making you wait this long. Both of you needed this, to take your frustrations and desires out on each other.

It’s primal, the way he thrusts inside you, feeling his cock pulse and twitch as your walls squeeze around him. Mando can barely shut up, if he’s not growling admirations in your ear, he’s keening into the helmet, his baritone hitting so low and rough, it only spurs you on.

The hand on your neck slacks, and then he’s pulling the glove out of your mouth. “Where d-do I—”

“Inside,” you manage to mewl, although your voice is barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“Ah—shit, you want me inside you? Fill your pretty little cunt with my come?”

You make a pathetic noise in your throat, the dryness of it too much for you to actually speak.

“Words, pretty girl. I need you to use your—fuck—words.”

You swallow hard, trying to get some dampness in your throat. “Y-yes.”

Mando growls contently and resumes his ruthless, hard pace. It’s no longer rushed, but with every thrust, he slams into your pussy so hard and hitting your cervix that your body jerks upwards, struggling to keep still. He grinds his hips a couple more times and then he reaches his own climax. You feel his cock throb inside you, filling you up with his seed.

“Fuck!” He snarls into the helmet, keeping it pressed against the side of your head.

You’re completely spent, you can barely move a muscle. Mando’s just fucked the life out of you, and you could lie here for the rest of your life, happy and satisfied. When you feel him start to pull out, with the little strength you gave—which is by no means a lot, you clench your walls around him, trying to keep him inside you.

“Don’t want me to leave?” He jokes.

“Want you inside all the time,” you mumble into the ground.

Mando hums, sheathing himself inside you once again.

“Pretty girl, I’m just getting started with you.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian smut #one-shot #pedrostories #fics

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bangteamhyuk · 3 years

Text

Seesaw (I)

Genre: Mature/Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Neighbors with benefits/Fuck buddies, Producer! Min Yoongi, Fuck girl! OC Y/N, Neighbors AU (a Spin-Off to “Moving On”)

Warning: NSFW! alot of kissing (torrid, soft, neck, and down under😉), protected sex (you can never go wrong with a rubber on, kids!), oral sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of nipple pierce (pls don’t kill me 😣), mentions of cheating, appears to be pwp but i swear there’s a plot in this..so bear with me please😖, elevator buddies (lol. thanks ggukieland for mentioning this) to eventual lovers. I’m ending this in good terms 😌

Synposis: His outfits are always in black, and if not black then it must be in dark muted tones. You pressed the button on the elevator floor, and positioned yourself at the edge. You watched his back from a distance, and turned away if he moved his head. You were always the one who start your small conversation with him: From “good day” to “good night” to “that’s interesting (whatever it is you find ‘interesting’ from him, even though you were interested in him more than the item)” and other things. You and your little crush to your neighbor who lived on the 18th floor.

Until one rainy night, all drenched and cold, and your eyes smudged all over with kohl, you found him waiting for you inside the elevator. His body slacked on the edge, hair unkempt, his jacket barely settled on his shoulder while holding on to an empty bottle of scotch.

“Rough night?” he asked while you moved to the other side of the lift, pressing the button from the elevator immediately closing its door.

“Yeah, seems you had one too?” you watched him attempt to position himself upright in amusement.

He drank from the empty bottle before he replied and realized straightaway that it’s been drained.

An idea came up to you suddenly and you asked: “I have more of that in my place. Wanna come over?”

A/N: Yoongi have been tormenting me of his visual for weeks and I just have to. Also I owe Producer!Min Yoongi to be happy. :( I hope you’ll enjoy “Seesaw” as much I enjoyed writing it. I decided to make it a mini-series because ideas are just piling up for the two.

And yep, mood song is “Seesaw” by Suga 💖

Word count: 7,190k

“Good morning” you said upon entering the elevator. You walked past him and placed your back on the steel wall for support.

“Good morning” he replied, eyes blinking.

You opened your insulated tumbler to drink your freshly brewed hot coffee you made before leaving your apartment, when you noticed something particularly interesting from the lone stranger you’re with inside the lift. “Nice bean hat” you complimented.

“It’s a gift from my friend” he looks up at the elevator screen, monitoring what floor you two are currently in before it hits the ground floor. “That coffee smells nice, Ethiopian beans?” he turned his head a little to your direction, but wasn’t trying to look back at you particularly.

“No, Tanzania Peaberry” you took a sip and levelled your eyes to the decreasing number before the elevator digital screen until it hit ‘Lobby’. “Well, have a good day!” you smiled at him as you walked past his side. Yoongi let you leave first, like a true gentleman that he is.

It was always the same dry and small conversation. Always the same feeling whenever he is around. Your little crush on the man living on the 18th floor.

——

It started about two months ago when he was running towards the closing elevator, asking for you to wait for him before you could push the close button on the lift. Normally you would mind, and would even subtly push the button hard (about once or twice) so the lift would close quickly before the other person could even enter.

But not this guy, no. The way his eyes looked at you for a second, there was something behind it, something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. When he reaches out for the door, you knew from that moment on, it was already over. He finally came in and pushed the ‘close button’ before you.

You were charmed.

“Thank you” he panted, as he tried to catch his breath from running and crouched down on his knees right when the elevator door closed. He was wearing a black oversized hoodie and dark blue fitted jeans and black canvas shoes, but were all dripping wet.

“Didn’t expect the rain too” You pulled out your gym towel from your bag. The one you didn’t get to use because, Matt, the cute guy your friend introduced to you during her wedding day, suddenly sent you a message asking if you had any plans for this afternoon.

Naturally, you cancelled your ‘gym day’ to trade it for one steamy workout session with him inside his car. Which leaves you now with your gym outfit and other stuff perfectly unused, including your towel.

“Here” you handed it over to him, feeling sorry for the situation he was in. Wet and dirty from running outside the street. He turned to you, confused, unsure whether to accept the towel you were offering or not. “Oh don’t worry, that’s a new one. I didn’t get to the gym today so it’s not used, like at all…” you smiled.

“Thanks” he bowed a bit and gently wiped his neck and face as he pushed the 18th floor button. He shook his raven short hair a little to his side and tapped it with the towel, hoping to reduce the water trickling from the ends of his straight hair.

You pushed 17th.

“New here?” you asked.

“Yeah, I just moved two weeks ago” he gently wiped each side of his cheek for warmth.

“Has anyone ever welcomed you here?” you took a quick glance at him and furrowed your eyebrows then retracted “Well, besides the management and the security guard?” you snickered, eyes still fixed at the elevator buttons and its screen.

He chuckled at your query “No, unfortunately.”

“Bummer. Well, let that towel be the ‘first welcome gift’ then. From a neighbor” You shrugged then turned to face him and smiled.

The elevator bell rang, ‘17th floor’. You put your feet forward near the elevator door, arguing in your head whether you should ask his name or not. Usually, you don’t ask strangers for their name, especially the ones you just met. You barely knew anyone in this building, except your next-door neighbor who frequently complained about the noises you make at night.

And It’s not like he owes you anything either, so you didn’t expect that he’ll do it so casually… and yet here you are, hoping.

At least, maybe he could ask you a thing or two about you and say ‘thanks’ one more time? That’s just wishful thinking though. You suddenly remember that you did mention the towel was a gift, despite not bothering to ask if he wants it or not.

You began to worry even more, and wanted to ask if he really wants to even keep it. So, you turned around to meet him the eye and “Ah w—”

“Thank you, neighbor” he smiled and held the towel to his ear. The elevator door closes before you, stunned to see him smile. Yes, that damn smile. The kind where you forget where you live for a second, and you just nod. Leaving him behind.

“What’s your name?” you asked no one, and sighed. “Whatever… you’re welcome, neighbor” you turned away from the closed door in frustration and walked along the hallway.

——

Boys are like games. You liked it when they made you scheme so that they could find you interesting, and then trap them once they took the bait. And leave when it becomes dull.

Every so often, you try to lure in guys that interest you so that you could spend about a week or two with them, to fill in the gaps of your own boredom. You despised monotony, the way you hated commitments.

Though you were not always like this before, you once believed in ‘true love’ and ‘fairytales’, until you’ve had your heart broken a few times (mostly due to one-sided love) and then that was it. You’ve had enough. Back then, you were still young and naïve, thinking men will come and save you from this cruel world. You’ve seen it in movies, tv dramas and heard countless songs play about it on the radio, you were hopeful.

Yet no one came to save you, not even one. You came to realize that only you could save yourself from making your life any more tragic. Men are never the key to happiness. Love is not the formula in living a good life.

You looked at your own reflection and marveled at the beauty you created for yourself. And that was the thing, you saved yourself way too perfectly that you just don’t believe in love anymore. And out of nowhere, men were starting to line up.

Not like the teen romance kind of stuff, where they literally line up for you because you started to look like Gal Gadot overnight. More like, you don’t seem to care whether you get asked out or not, either way, men like you because you are a challenge. And who doesn’t like a challenge?

Because men are dying to see one day, that all the walls you’ve built for yourself would fall for them. They wanted to see a damsel in distress behind that wall.

Because men always like their ego stroke, and they always want to have the bigger prize. Unfortunately for everybody, it’s not Princess Peach who they want to save on top of a tower, they just want the game. That’s it, they want to see whether you’d fall for them or not. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s why you never let it. You refused to get too personal and you renounced commitments. You’re too proud.

Because for you, commitments are the epitome of prison. For you, commitments are just a disguise for convenience. In the same manner, convenience is a sugar-coated word for validation, caramelized to perfection.

And for whose validation? For men? Maybe then, they could make you do their laundry, cook them food, satisfy their lustful desires? Are those really an act of love or selfish desire to make their lives easy? Clearly, your choice to keep yourself free from commitments isn’t an act of rebellion against sexims and double standards. It’s actually letting yourself be free from nuisance, which is what they call “love”.

That is why you remain in your stance, that you want men for your own pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. That you want to see them admire you, kneel if they must, before you. Cry desperately for your touch. Because you’re not giving any, not until a man who thinks the same way as you do, the ones who are smart enough to knock on your door and present to you his pure intentions.

Evidently, that’s impossible, with the way men are in this god-forsaken city? The closest thing you could ever meet to a perfect man is the cardboard stand of Park Seojun, smiling at the entrance of a restaurant beside you right now.

You pat the fabric from your dress, after looking at your reflection from the glass window. Joe, your officemate, from the Design Department, finally asked you out for a ‘little dinner nearby’.

“Y/N, you sure you want to eat here? We can go to some place fancier” he asked while he folded his long sleeves.

“Two seats please” you ignored his query as you grinned over the lady who took on the customer cue. She rolled her eyes upon seeing you again with another man.

Joe went to you close and whispered “Do you have any beef with the lady?”.

“Nah, we’re good. It’s her term of endearment for saying ‘welcoming back’. I’m a regular customer here” you winked at her “so I’m sure she’s delighted to see me every time” she groaned in annoyance and let you in. She remained polite by guiding you both to an empty table.

——

Obviously that’s a lie, because next thing you knew, you were already making out with Joe inside his car, barely reaching his apartment.

“Mmm” you shifted to his seat, knees in between his legs, as he unzips your dress on your back. You helped him pull the fabric down from your shoulder, exposing your lacy lingerie, exclusive for this occasion.

“Can’t you wait until we get into my place?” he parted, panting, leaving him breathless after that torrid kiss.

“I just wanted to give you a little preview with what I can do” you smirked, as you began to kiss his ears and traced it down his neck. “Will get there, don’t worry” you gently bit his ear lobe which made him groan in pleasure. Until, someone came knocking on his window. Joe moved from his seat to see who it was.

“Lara!” he immediately stopped and pushed you away.

“Lara?” you turned to face where he was looking, and to your horror, you saw Lara. Lara, your officemate and your best friend. Lara, who perfectly knew your history and the list of men you slept with. Lara, who stood by you even after office hours and saved your ass multiple times from your mercurial boss.

You didn’t have any slightest clue she was seeing this Joe from the Design department, yet you feel like you’ve done something terribly wrong.

You quickly pulled your clothes up, while Joe immediately left you in the car to talk to Lara.

“I can explain,” he pleaded, shutting the car door hard.

“I don’t need it” Lara shook her head and took a step back.

You pulled down the headboard mirror to fix your hair and lipstick for a moment and let the two do the talking first. You listened to them argue, rather faintly from the inside of his car while you tried to put on your heels.

After you gently pat your lips with your finger, you finally decided to leave the car and went to Lara so you could take on her side and put more misery over Joe, the canker cheater. Besides, isn’t it Joe’s fault that you are all in this muddling position?

“I always knew I shouldn’t be friends with a slut like you!” she spat a disgusted look on you.

Your mouth went agape, bewildered at her reaction “Excuse me? I didn’t know Joe’s seeing you”. You were expecting that above all, she would understand the current situation, that it was Joe and not you who started out all this mess. Why does it feel like you’ve put gas in to the fire? When the one who deserves all these words is Joe.

“So, is it my fault now? That I didn’t tell you I’m seeing Joe?!” she scoffed and folded her arms. Now she’s starting to piss you off too.

“Because I don’t know Lara? We’re best friends? We’re not supposed to hide secrets?” you gave her a sardonic smile, which peeved her even more.

“Of course I should, the way you sleep with everyone’s boyfriend without being sorry? I definitely think I should” she bit at you, barely quivering from the words she chose against you. You must admit, that definitely hurt. Not the words she chose, not the way she barely quivered, but because it came out from someone you trust.

Lara, was the least person you thought who could inflict a burn to your already-distorted ego.

You sighed, forestalling the tears that were slowly looming around your eyes “Right, well at least I learned something about you tonight. Have a great night with Joe, I hope you two sort out things…” you pulled your bag from your shoulder and walked away but then you remember something.

You wanted to slap Joe in the face so bad right now, that the only thing that’s stopping you is the idea of an eventual ‘Physical Harm Outside Office’ complaint against you from the HR Department, well if you were careless enough to actually do it.

“There’s a thong hidden underneath your seat, which isn’t mine by the way. I only wear Kiki De Montparnasse, don’t I Lara? Well, those are Victoria’s. You know I dislike Victoria’s ” you declared, before leaving, not turning your head to face them one last time.

“We’re over Joe!” Lara screeched, as Joe pleaded even more, their voices turning inaudible as you moved farther away.

Of course, that was a lie. There were no thongs left inside Joe’s car. Just the friendship you lost with Lara. And you wanted to retaliate hard, to put everything on equal footing. Except, it didn’t feel that way, because Joe took something away from you forever: Trust.

——

Someone knocked from Yoongi’s studio. “Excuse me sir, but Mr. Park and his fiancé are waiting for you at the lounge area?” one of the staff asked, sticking her head out from the door.

“Right, tell them I’ll be there in sec!” he pushed a few buttons on his keyboard and then left his seat to meet his visitors.

“Hyung!” Jimin stood up from his seat to meet him, together with his fiancé… Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend.

“Hey there kid!” Yoongi went to give Jimin a brief hug, and gestured to them to return to their seats. “Hey there” he nodded and smiled weakly to his ex, not that he’s sour or hostile towards her, but he was just in a tight position seeing the two of them together in one room.

“Hyung, I’ve been really meaning to ask you, but I know it’s pretty awkward considering the two of you well, you were once, you know” he scratched the back of his neck, trying to find proper words but decided to continue anyway “together… and I know this is sudden too, but we reserved a seat for you on our wedding day tomorrow, and hopefully as one of my groomsmen…”

Be there on their wedding day? Tomorrow? As one of his groomsmen? Is this a joke? He was baffled for a moment, but his face remained stoic. “I can’t. I’m sorry…” he nodded coolly.

Yoongi saw how she quickly held on to Jimin’s hand tight, to give Jimin comfort from the rejection they expected from him.

“We understand” Jimin breathed and faced the ground.

“It’s not like that” Yoongi lied. “You know that contract I just had for a soft drink commercial? Well apparently they wanted a full revision on the song, so I just had to finish it before the weekends”

“Oh” Jimin smiled shyly “that’s unfortunate…”

Yoongi turned to face his ex, who knew him fluently. He gulped and smiled weakly, hoping the message would come across to ‘Not tell Jimin’. She nodded, fully understanding what Yoongi had in mind.

He wanted to save everybody (especially her family who knew him for years, and their common friends who’ll come by) to see an uncomfortable scene on their special occasion: An ex on a wedding day.

Hours passed, and Yoongi politely offered to see them leave the office building while bidding them good luck for tomorrow.

“Excuse me, I just need to get this” Jimin took his phone to his ears and left them to receive the call from his manager. “Yeah, they’re there? All areas secured? Yeah, thank you. Hopefully, we can avoid paparazzi and obsessive fans at the wedding venue tomorrow…” Yoongi heard him say, his voice turning faint as he walked far.

“Yoongi” she quickly but subtly held his hand “Just say it…” she shut her eyes and pleaded him.

Yoongi knew what she meant, and even if he still feels something for her, he had to do it. “Don’t do this… I know it’s probably just wedding jitters, and maybe we really haven’t had a proper closure when we broke up, but Jimin is a good guy. He’s better. Please, be with him” he said softly, resisting to meet her eyes.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you that night, I should have stuck out to you then, and understand you, I really lo—“ she started to talk fast, while her eyes glistened.

“Stop” Yoongi, moved back, pulling his own hand away from her. “You made the right decision, and I also made mine. Everything falls perfectly, where it should be” Yoongi bit his lip, maddened to hear her regret. For what? What good does it make to agree with her and run? To destroy a relationship right before their wedding day? He’s not dumb to take the bait.

After years of being left behind, years of putting him in the dark after she left, years of hoping that the two of them can get back together. Only to find later, by chance, that she was already dating his colleague, Jimin. “Stop!” he repeated, taking another step away from her.

Jimin ran back to her side, clueless of what just happened between her and Yoongi. “I’m sleepy, love” she yawned, trying to mask her teary eyes that started when she pleaded Yoongi to take her back.

Yoongi nodded “I’m sure you two are tired from all the planning. I really appreciate you two for visiting. Take care! I need to get back to the studio, client’s calling too!`` He quickly turned away and left, digging his hand in his pockets to hide his shaking palms. The thought of almost agreeing to take her back, right on the night before their wedding, sends shivers down his spine.

He needed a drink.

——

You fumbled on your wallet and realized that you left your transportation card on the office desk. Honestly, you thought you wouldn’t need it when Joe offered to drive you home. “Please, at least a change, at least a change…” you mumbled it like a mantra, praying something helpful would appear, but didn’t.

Even when you dug deeper in your bag, there was no spare change in sight, only your credit card. You didn’t expect the night to turn out so bad. Even worse, it was starting to rain. It didn’t have an umbrella either.

You paused in the middle of the street to cry, not being able to comprehend the series of unfortunate events. You watched the rain flushed down your makeup from a convex mirror hanging on a pole. Your eyes were starting to look like raccoons. Your favorite dress is already drenched and filthy from street dust and smoke. Yet you remained walking, hoping that if you continued to raise your hand every so often, a taxi would come by and let you in.

But even after an hour, no one bothered to let a rain-drenched woman into their dry and pristine car. Until it took you long enough to arrive at your apartment lobby, and you sighed in relief. You shook your head when the security wanted to ask what happened, and declined when the service staff offered you a seat to wait on the couch and bring you a towel. You just wanted to get to your home quickly.

And there he was, inside the elevator, your little crush who lives on the 18th floor.

You saw him drink the last drop from his bottle before he pressed a button, when his eyes widened upon seeing you in a poor state. You walked towards him.

In an attempt to look sober in front of a stranger, Yoongi fixed his posture and quickly pressed the ‘open door button’ and waited for you inside.

“Rough night?” he asked while you moved to the other side of the lift and watched you press the ‘close button’ from the elevator, immediately closing its door. His body fell almost instantly on the slight movement of the lift that shifted towards the upper floors. His body slacked on the edge, hair unkempt, and his dark denim jacket barely settled on his shoulder while he held onto his empty bottle of scotch.

“Yeah, seems you had one too?” you watched his attempt to reposition himself again upright, in amusement.

He drank from the empty bottle before he could reply and realized straightaway that it’s been drained.

“I uh” he gulped “I met my ex a while ago, and she pleaded with me to take her back right before her wedding day” he drunkenly confessed, and giggled to hear himself say it.

“That’s rough buddy…” you folded your arms and watched the elevator screen, as usual.

“What’s your sob story?” he asked, blinking as he tried to mask his insobriety.

“Oh this?” you momentarily look at your drenched clothes. “Well I found out the guy I was out with, ‘double-dipping’ me and my best friend”

“That’s even tougher” he chuckled as he peered on to his empty bottle, wishing that a drop would magically appear out of nowhere.

“I think we’re even” you watched him silently, trying hard not to laugh to see him in his drunken state, until an idea suddenly came up. You asked: “I have more of that in my place. Wanna come over?”

——

The moment you two stepped out of the elevator, you found your bodies pressed together.

Lips knotted on each other, wet and tacky. You moved back while he pressed you forward along the hallway. He then moved to force you up against a wall, pressing himself to you even harder.

Yoongi didn’t waste a minute and pushed his tongue in between your lips, and you reciprocated. You roughly brushed your hand towards his hair, and pulled him even closer to you and deepened your kiss. Whatever it is you two were doing.

He parted and pressed kisses on your throat, his fingers reaching down to your waist and clutched your bottoms.

It was so sudden, so fluid, that you almost forgot that you were still outside from your place.

“Oh, bless you two!” your 60 year old next-door neighbor cried, who just went out of her door. Fidgeting while she tried to close it and ran towards the empty elevator.

“I’m definitely going to receive a house complaint from the management tomorrow” you chuckled. You parted for a moment, and stopped by your apartment door. You quickly entered your password on your lock screen, while he continued to press kisses on your neck. You didn’t mind if he saw it, since you were pretty sure he’s too intoxicated to remember every number.

Upon entering your door, he quickly discarded his jacket and left it on the floor, he kicked the door close. You didn’t dare break the proximity between you and him, even if it bears as a challenge to move back while taking off your shoes from the threshold, and still manage to wrestle with his tongue.

He cut the kiss briefly to remove his own shoes, but quickly as a fox. Like a clockwork, he continued where he left, back to hungrily pursuing your lips. You parted and watched your lower lip leave gradually from his soft bite. You smiled at him and began to trace kisses on his neck.

He closed his eyes and revelled from your touch. He then carried you over to your bare dinner table and hurriedly pulled your dress up, exposing your lacy underwear, while you helped him pull his shirt off exposing his pale chest. You pinched your lip, stared at him for a moment, all pleased to see him bare.

“What?” he nervously asked.

“Just thinking how I’ve always fancied seeing my neighbor naked come to a reality” you tilt your head, while your eyes remain focused on his chest.

“What a coincidence, I was thinking the same” he finally realized that you had a zipper on the back and pulled it down a bit.

“Careful, this one’s from Lanvin” you alerted him. He obediently followed and carefully pulled it down your waist. You gently pushed it away and threw it on the carpet.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you had your dress in Versace?” you laughed at his remark.

“Oh, so you could sing that Bruno Mars song? Kinky”

He chuckled at your retort. You then realized how charming he looks up close, his gums flashed before you as he grinned.

“Uhuh…” and just like that he swiftly changed from cute charming to a seductive one, as he shifted his position and watched you react to his finger pressed beneath your cloth that was keeping a barrier between your skin down below and his fingertips. “You’re wet”

You breathed at the sensation and nodded “You know for a neighbor, you are pretty friendly. Yet I never get to know your name” you whispered in his ears and unbuckled his belt. You help him pull down his pants from your seat.

He smiled, seeing you fairly repay his effort by finding your hands gently brushing his length beneath the fabric of his underwear.

“Yoongi” he replied, a bit groaning. You felt his flaccid length grow stiff at your touch.

You turn to look at it, then his eyes “Y/N” you smiled as you pulled it down and began stroking it bare. Nice and slow.

“Nice to meet you… God… that’s it” he shut his eyes and breathed, as he unclasped your bra and began cupping your breasts.

“Nice to meet you too Yoongi…” he opened his eyes, his right hand shifted to lick his fingertip and stick it between your lacy fabric down to your nub, brushing it quickly yet soft.

“That’s… yes…” you shut your eyes at the sudden contact. You were sensitive. “You know we are 3 steps away from my bedroom, why don’t we continue from there?” you gave him a peck on his lips and pulled his hand away from you. You jumped out from the table and waited for him to follow you to your bedroom door.

He just stood for a while and watched you slip your panty down, he gulped at the sight and immediately followed.

——

“Yoongi!” your toes curled, as he pulled you even closer to him. You heard him growl a little underneath you. His hands under your butt cheeks, caressing it gently while he sticks his tongue out for a taste. Seeing stars was underrated, if you must describe how wonderful his tongue techniques were when you are receiving him.

“Yeah, that’s pretty” He parted and licked what’s left of you on his lip while watching you shiver beneath him, slowly coming undone. You lost count how much you orgasm with his tongue alone. He then pushed two fingers in you and slowly stroked it in and out, and watched you unfold for the nth time to his touch.

God, you almost forgot that he’s been pleasing you for almost an hour that you forgot to return the favor. “Yoongi, stop… lie down” you gently pushed him to the side, letting him relax on his back, and began rubbing his length.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I want in” he stopped you before your mouth received him.

“Right now? You sure?” you asked, as he chuckled at the query.

“I’m fully erect, Y/N. What’s there to be unsure of? Lie down…” he commanded, and you gladly obliged.

“The condom is on the bed side table, first drawer on the left.” You pointed. He opened the drawer, and found one. He gently opened the golden foil as you helped him pull the rubber out and placed it on him.

He moaned to the cool sensation “Mmm…” he placed both your ankles on each side of his shoulder as he slowly moved inside of you.

You shut your eyes and opened your mouth wide, surprised to feel something fairly sizable and immense. He rests for a second, letting you adjust to him.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m tough, and I like it rough” you panted.

He chuckled momentarily, but his face turned earnest when he began to thrust inside of you slowly. From a steady placid pace, it gradually accelerated, penetrating deeper into you as he moved further. He wasn’t just hitting your sweet spot, he was unearthing everything within you. To say you’re pleased is an understatement, he definitely did more than that. “God!” he started to move fast to an inconsistent pace and finally came.

You followed.

He pulled out, and rested on your chest.

You gulped and found your throat dry from all that just happened “Want something to drink?” you sat on your side of the bed.

“No more scotch, just water. Know what? Fuck it” he pulled you back to the bed. Swiftly changed his soiled rubber to a new one. He took another condom from your bed side table and immediately entered back into you.

Turns out, the night ended unexpectedly great.

——

🎵 Love me special… love me special… love me special🎵

Your alarm resonated all over your apartment. “Alexa, stop” you commanded, as you shift from your bed and was surprised to see a motionless body you don’t recognize on the other side of your bed.

You slapped your forehead upon realizing who it was on the other end. Your little neighbor crush, now with a name: Yoongi. The song continued to play, stirring the stranger from his sleep “Nngh” he lazily scratched his neck in annoyance.

“Alexa, stop the alarm!” you exclaimed, blinking at the thought of rousing him further from his slumber. You didn’t want the idea of little chit-chats on the morning after sex. You disliked being demanded to answer questions like “how did I get here?” or “was sex good?”and etc., conversation like those are a total drag.

Regardless who it was, whether it was one night stand or a regular fuck buddy. You wanted to casually forget it by the day, then crave for it during the night. It is how you put up with stress from your work. You separate your professional life to your personal life, that’s how you endure having to face bullshit for years.

He turned around to see you put your clothes back. “Oh shit” he shut his eyes the moment his memories stirred him from his stupor.

“Morning. Look, I’ll go ahead? I’ll be late for work. You can stay as long as you like… but not too long… Whatever, just, don’t forget to take all your things on the way. I know where you live so don’t do anything funny” you put on your bra and underwear then quickly move to your open rack to take your satin robe with you to your bathroom.

“Wine” he sluggishly replied.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, you peered from the wall separating the bedroom and the baths.

“You were playing ‘Wine’. I made that.” He snickered lazily.

“Made what? Wine, this song?” you pointed to your speaker “It’s sung by a girl named Suran? Wait, are you still drunk? I have Tylenol inside the drawer– ” he smiled at the thought of you being kind and considerate. He then shook his head.

“No, I meant I produced that. I’m glad you like it enough to make it your alarm” he pulled down the duvet, exposing his bare chest. He sat up, but the brightness from your window made Yoongi squint his eyes.

“What are the odds” you chuckled, but only for a while, because when you took your phone and typed in the song on your search bar you found his name, well his other name that is.

“Suga? Are you Suga? Who named you that?” you smiled, as you turned away from him towards your shower but stopped midway.

“You produced a song for Jimin?! THE Park Jimin? the famous idol? The one who won KMA, MAMA, and Daesang… you made those songs?” you swiped further and saw a ‘breaking news’. You narrated it out loud “Look, you know about this? ‘Park Jimin just married his long time non-celebrity girlfriend’…” then paused. You remember the conversation you had with him last night, suddenly grasping and putting things together “Shit, she’s the ex, isn’t it?” you went back to face him, waiting for his response.

“Yeah” Yoongi sat up, eyes still listless. “Isn’t it Dispatch worthy?” he asked sarcastically.

“No,” you replied dryly. “You know what is?” you rested your arm on the doorway from your bathroom and watched him react “Park Jimin, has a piercing on his left nipple. That’s why you never see him wear a fitted shirt” you raised one of your eyebrows and smiled.

His eyes, which looked formerly lethargic, became wide and lively.

“Wait, what? How? When?” he opened his mouth in shock.

“He was still a rookie then I guess? Anyway it’s been years… and was very single at that… He loves that left nipple a lot, you know? That he came by too soon. He wasn’t that great to be honest, you were better, well more than better to be precise… and I guess that’s what made your ex regret her life decisions?” you shrugged as you watched him laugh hard at your remark. “So don’t be too bummed, okay? You were definitely better, and you deserve the best out there” you smiled and left him there on your bed.

“Thanks” he spoke softly as he watched you close the bathroom door.

That was the very first time you talked with someone you slept with, the morning after. And the funny thing is, you never regret doing so.

——

You didn’t want to come, but you have to, it was such a horrible position to be sitting beside your now ex-best friend while you two try to remain professional at work.

It was the first time you weren’t left with a sticky note with a smiling face, nor placed a freshly brewed coffee for her, first thing in the morning on her desk. You were both working fine, but the relationship was beyond repair.

That night after work, you found Yoongi waiting in line to get a cup of java in one of your favorite cafes.

“Hey neighbor” he smiled. “Fancy meeting you here?”

“Well I was on the way home. Then I saw you. Have you eaten dinner?” you asked, you went beside him on the line.

“Is that an invitation or are you asking me out?” he squinted his eyes towards you, as you rolled your eyes.

“It’s the former. I thought it’s around dinner time by now, maybe we could share a meal? There’s a promo on one of the restaurants nearby…” you took your phone out to show him a copy of an electronic voucher they were giving for free online.

“Sure, I like promotions. The ones that don't require me to shell out a lot” he remained stoic, despite genuinely liking the idea of cutting regular priced foods.

“Exactly” you winked at him.

——

You brought him to a BBQ place, and saw him turn ecstatic to see them actually serving Kobe Wagyu Beef.

“I must admit, you know the perfect places to eat” he affirmed.

“Of course, I’m very particular in choosing my meat” you stared at him for a second, as he watched you chew a piece, your eyes still fixated on him. He gulped.

“Wanna come over to my place, after?” he asked.

——

UPDATE: Chapter 2 is HERE!

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 3 years

Text

The Buddy Fighters Tower, summit. There, there was a round arena surrounded by numerous pillars. Two statues, one of King Dedede with his hammer and one of Meta Knight with his sword, adorned either side.

"—You’re here, Kirby."

A voice was heard. King Dedede and Meta Knight came forth into the arena.

"King Dedede! Thank you for inviting me to such a wonderful party!" Kirby replied eagerly. His gratitude was sincere, but King Dedede became annoyed.

"Calling a serious decisive battle a party ... You’re real calm about this, aren’t you. Detestable brat ... " Then, King Dedede noticed Bandana Waddle Dee standing in wait behind Kirby. "Waddle Dee? What are you doing?"

"Great King, sir. I'm fighting, together, with Kirby."

"Fighting? You?"

"Y ... yes!"

"In short," Meta Knight said, "this means that you’re the buddy that Kirby chose?"

"Yes!" Bandana Waddle Dee nodded as King Dedede spoke up in dismay.

"That’s stupid! You can't fight."

"But I ... "

"This is the decisive battle tower where the real warriors fight. It's not the place for you. Back off so you don't get hurt!"

Bandana Waddle Dee, dejected, tried to pull back as he was told, but Kirby shouted, "Waddle Dee is my partner! We’re going to participate in the party together!"

"Kirby ... " King Dedede narrowed his gaze at him. "Why are you wearing such a weird mask?" he asked.

"This is a new copy ability ... " Kirby reconsidered his words.

If he said what he was wearing was the Wrestler Copy Ability, even though this was a party King Dedede went through a lot of trouble to prepare, it might really hurt the King’s feelings.

"This ... this is ... fashionable! It's a fashionable mask made just for parties!"

" ... What are you talking about, you runt?"

"Um, uh, anyways, let's hurry and start the party already!"

"Hmph. Do you really want to fight so badly?" King Dedede laughed daringly. "I feel the same. Alright, let's get this started!" He struck the floor with his hammer, as if to signal the start of the battle.

Kirby was surprised. "Huh!? What are you doing? I've exercised a bunch already. And even if I didn't, I’m still starving ... "

"Enough of the chitter chatter!" Bandana Waddle Dee quickly readied his spear upon hearing this. King Dedede glared at him. "You! I told you to back off!"

"I'm fighting too! Because I'm Kirby's buddy!"

King Dedede tried to shout at Bandana Waddle Dee, furious, however, Meta Knight stopped him. "Okay. Let's fight the both of you."

"Hey, Meta Knight! Are you for real!" King Dedede shouted, displeased. "Waddle Dee will just wander around or something! He’ll get hurt, for sure!"

"No, he’s Kirby's chosen buddy. There's no mistake."

"Anything’s fine for you as long as you get to fight Kirby!"

Compared to the Dedede-Meta Knight team who were quickly, once again, quarreling, Kirby and Bandana Waddle Dee were perfectly in sync.

"Let’s fight, Kirby!" Bandana Waddle Dee shouted. "That is the rule of this tower!"

"Really? I understand ... "

It seemed that it was necessary to fight in order to get the party started ... Kirby finally grew motivated to battle. The two exchanged a knowing look and commenced their attack at once, simultaneously.

"Take this! ROLLING SOBAT!"

"Let’s do this! SPEAR THRUST!" King Dedede and Meta Knight were taken aback.

"Mmmrgh ... " King Dedede groaned, "your movements are pretty quick! Damned Waddle Dee, you’ve gotten so strong, before I even realized it!"

Meta Knight pulled out the treasured sword, Galaxia. "Then I won’t go easy on you!" He slashed at Kirby, who jumped up and quickly dived feet-first towards his head.

"WRESTLER PINPOINT KICK!" Meta Knight jumped, falling back and evading.

King Dedede shot Bandana Waddle Dee a sharp look in the meanwhile.

"Do you want me to be your opponent, first of all?" he said. "Won’t be hard doing away with Kirby after that."

"Great King ... I’ll do this!" Bandana Waddle Dee thrust his spear with great vigor and skill. "Ei! MULTISPEAR ATTACK!"

"Ho-ho! You're persistent, aren't cha?" King Dedede laughed. "But something like that’s no match for me! Now, HAMMER SWING!" The heavy hammer came pounding down. Bandana Waddle Dee quickly dodged. "Hmph, you won't avoid what comes next! GIANT DEDEDE SWING!" King Dedede swung his hammer around, and Bandana Waddle Dee held his spear over his head and spun it at high speeds. Then, the spear became a propeller, and Bandana Waddle Dee’s body floated gently.

"WADDLE COPTER!" It was a light aerial technique that could only be done by the nimble Bandana Waddle Dee!

"W ... what!?" King Dedede was astonished at this move. He breathed roughly as Bandana Waddle Dee waited for an opening as he flew over him, realizing that he was planning to counterattack when he came near.

"Damn Waddle Dee! That’s a cheeky move you’re using!" King Dedede's eyes held a trace of a sinister light. The Great King raised a hand high and a Gordo appeared atop it. It was a dangerous living creature outfitted with countless sharp spikes. "Here! TAKE THIS!" King Dedede nimbly threw the Gordo up with a shout before striking it with his hammer. It headed straight at Bandana Waddle Dee.

"Waaaaah!" He hurriedly avoided it.

"Here! Here! Here!" His attack did not cease. King Dedede continued firing off Gordos in rapid succession, one of which struck Bandana Waddle Dee's spear and flew off in an unexpected direction.

It hit Kirby's head dead-on as he was fighting Meta Knight.

"OWWWWW!" Kirby screamed aloud as the thorns stuck into him. Meta Knight did not let the opportunity escape.

"META MULTITHRUST!" Kirby's face was grazed by Galaxia’s sharp tip.

"Uwaah!" He held his face back.

There was no injury, however, his mask was torn to complete shreds.

"Ah ... the mask!" Kirby returned to being ability-less. The Wrestler Copy Ability could be used no longer. Meta Knight shifted his grip on his sword.

"It seems the match has been decided. Prepare yourself, Kirby!" He raised his sword.

"KIRBY—!" Bandana Waddle Dee, flying overhead, raised his voice in a scream. He tried to help, but was unable to in time. The treasured sword Galaxia swiftly attacked Kirby, who was in a daze, unable to move.

In that moment of desperation, driven into a corner—a pitch black shadow fluttered down before him.

It was Shadow Kirby.

He wore a green hat and held a sword in his hand, the same as when he had first appeared, and caught Meta Knight’s strike.

" ... What!?" Meta Knight jumped back in surprise. Shadow Kirby turned around and looked at Kirby.

He was expressionless, as usual, however, he seemed to smile a little at him.

Shadow Kirby took off the hat he was wearing and handed it over. Kirby was speechless.

"The hat? You’re going to give it to me?" Shadow Kirby did not respond and jumped up quickly.

The next moment, he was already gone. Kirby blinked several times.

It was a momentary event, but as evidence it was not a dream, the green hat still remained in his hand.

Then, "Kirby, put on the hat! Quickly!" Bandana Waddle Dee shouted. "It's a gift from Shadow Kirby!"

Kirby hurriedly put on the green hat when he realized that. A sword appeared in his right hand and power surged through his body.

"It's the Sword Copy Ability!" Kirby shouted energetically as he held it up. "Bring it on, Meta Knight!" Meta Knight yelled in a bloodthirsty voice before bringing down his sword.

Kirby’s own sword repelled the blow that held all of Meta Knight’s might, and the battle grew fierce. Every time the two swords met, sparks scattered, crackling.

"What's the hold up, Meta Knight!" King Dedede shouted. "Why don’tcha leave it to the King!" King Dedede raised his hammer and jumped at Kirby. Bandana Waddle Dee landed in front of him.

"Your opponent is me, Great King!"

"You lil’ pest. Get outta here, Waddle Dee!"

"Eeeeeeeei!" Bandana Waddle Dee didn't flinch. He thrust his spear out with all his might.

"Gwuaagh!? Why you little ... WADDLE DEE!" A smile came to King Dedede’s face as he adjusted his grip on his hammer. "You’ve gotten so strong, before I knew it!"

"I became brave while fighting alongside Kirby!"

"I’ll give you credit for that, but you’re still a million years too early to go up against me! HRYAAH!" King Dedede swung his hammer.

Kirby, Bandana Waddle Dee, Meta Knight, King Dedede. It became a great battle of four.

"SWORD SPIN!"

"MOON DROP!"

"META SPIN SLASH!"

"DEDEDE HAMMER FLIP!"

Each of them gathered their strength and fired off their strongest moves in rapid succession.

Amongst them, Meta Knight’s drive was the best by far. He launched a focused attack aiming only for Kirby.

As expected, Kirby felt like he was becoming overwhelmed, losing ground. The treasured sword Galaxia repelled his sword and sent it flying.

"Wawawawawa ...! " Meta Knight rushed in and attacked Kirby, who had now lost his weapon! Bandana Waddle Dee, who was fighting King Dedede, shouted out in a daze.

"WATCH OUT, KIRBY!" He quickly flipped his spear and struck it into Meta Knight. "BACK THRUST!"

Meta Knight stopped moving for a moment due to the unexpected attack, and Kirby hurriedly picked up his sword and thrust it into him with all of his might.

"TAAAA—!"

Meta Knight, suddenly realizing what was happening, tried to defend against it.

But he couldn't make it in time. Kirby's sword struck his mask dead-on, breaking it into two equal halves.

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#kirby #bandana waddle dee #meta knight #king dedede #kirby fighters 2 #Kirby: Kirby Fighters the Destined Rivals!!#kirby light novel #translations #fun fact! i mean translator's notes #when dedede asks bandee if he wants to be his opponent #he switches over and refers to him with the second person pronoun omae #which is a little nicer than ddd's default (kisama)#i could probably count the number of times ddd uses omae on one hand #he never uses it so this is very conscious. make of that what you will

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idreamofplaid · 4 years

Text

What Tomorrow Brings

Square Filled: Opposites Attract for @spnfluffbingo & Bed Sharing for @spngenrebingo

Characters: Dean x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: oral (female receiving)

Summary: The reader’s been dreaming about Dean for weeks. She finally gets her chance, but she isn’t a one night stand kind of girl.

Word Count: 4134

Created for @spnfluffbingo & @spngenrebingo

It looked pretty much like all hunter’s cabins do. There was a small kitchen area with rustic wood cabinets and open shelves, suitable for preparing chili, sandwiches, or other simple food. The couch appeared comfortable enough and would serve the purpose of having a place to put your feet up and enjoy a glass of whiskey, just a little something to take the edge off that killing monsters created.

The cabin was typical with the exception of one major difference. In the sleeping nook, there was a bed that beckoned the weary and promised to restore what the constant stress of saving people took away. It was the kind of bed you’d find in a home, a real one, and it was to this bed that you were drawn.

You lay back on it, extended your arms above your head and stretched. With a lift of your shoulders, the muscles between your shoulder blades pulled, releasing some of the tension there. The pillow was soft, much softer than was to be expected in a cabin intended to provide shelter and not much more. You turned your cheek and nuzzled into it. The sheets felt positively divine. A contented sigh escaped from your throat.

Dean dropped his duffle on the floor with a thud, jarring you out of your temporary state of bliss. He had apparently been watching all this with interest because he lifted one eyebrow and a smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Looks like you’re really having a good time with that bed. Do the two of you need a few minutes alone?”

You picked up the pillow next to you and flung it at him. “This is the nicest bed I’ve seen in months, maybe even years. I’m not going to let you shame me out of enjoying it.” You could feel your cheeks beginning to turn pink. Dean was always so free and easy with the sexual innuendo. He was a walking tribute to everything sexually attractive in a man, at least as far as you were concerned. It wasn’t that his flirting wasn’t welcome, just the opposite. You’d been harboring a crush on Dean for months, but flirting just made you feel awkward.

Dean picked the pillow up from the floor. “Alright then. I’ll just ‘enjoy’ this pillow on the couch.” If he’d noticed you’d gotten flustered by his comment, he didn’t give any indication of it. He just walked his sexy ass over to the couch and started making himself comfortable. Realizing that you had been staring at his butt, you felt your cheeks flush again.

He might tease, but Dean was always a gentleman. Without a doubt, that was part of the reason you were falling for him. You transferred your attention from his more fantasy inducing attributes to notice the hint of dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well since you’d tracked down that jinn in Cheyenne. Jinn cases always affected him more than the others, or at least differently. He’d confided that to you once, telling you about the jinn who had shown him what his life would have been like had it been “normal”. In a moment of vulnerability, he had admitted how much he wanted the monsters to go away sometimes so he could have a real home and stop looking over his shoulder all the time. It was also that vulnerability that had you entertaining the idea of Dean as more than a friend.

He had become quite the distraction for you the past few weeks, filling your daydreams with surprise bouquets of flowers and sweet kisses in candlelight. No doubt, the things you thought about were a long way from what was between the covers of the “Busty Asian Beauties” magazines he tried to hide when you were around.

You sneaked another look at him laying on the couch, still in his clothes, arms crossed over his chest. He shifted a little and sighed. You tried to pinpoint the reason for that sigh. It could be several things. He could be thinking about his life as a hunter again and how he wished it was different; it could be because he was too tired to sleep, or it could be because he very much wanted to sleep, but his sleeping conditions were less than ideal.

He had driven all the way here, refusing when you offered to take a turn. So, you had gotten some rest sleeping in Baby’s backseat. Dean wasn’t generally one for sleeping on the road; you figured it was a control thing for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust you to drive his Baby; he did, and you knew that was huge. He just liked being behind the wheel, especially when he needed to clear his head; and you knew that, no matter how much he denied it, his mind was filled with plenty of things that needed to be cleared. He had told you enough to verify that.

You got off the bed and walked over to him. Dean cracked open one eye and looked at you. He opened them both when he caught sight of your serious expression. “You take the bed; I’ve had more sleep that you have.”

Dean thought for only a second before he answered. “Any reason both of us can’t sleep in the bed? I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He raised them in the air in a gesture of surrender to emphasize his point. The smirk was back. Was he trying to make you blush again? His next words made it clear that he was. “But you do have a perfect ass. So…” He dropped his eyes down and made a show of looking it over. That got the rise from you that he was looking for; you snatched the pillow from beneath his head and swatted him with it. Dean excused himself to take a shower with a smart ass remark. “If you’re going to be nice enough to let me be that close to you, I can at least smell pretty for you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs criss crossed beneath you, listening to the sound of the shower coming from the bathroom. It was impossible not to think about a naked Dean so near and running his hands over his muscled body while the water traveled down his chest and stomach in rivulets, down to….”

Stop. Your mind cannot go there. You jumped up from the bed and moved in the direction of the kitchen. You needed to do something, anything, to get your mind off that. Making coffee was a comforting routine for you, so try that; it could work. Never mind it was almost midnight, the smell of it was soothing. So, you opened the cabinet and started to search. There it was; it wouldn’t be a hunter’s cabin without coffee.

The smell of coffee had filled the entire cabin by the time Dean walked out dressed in a t-shirt and sweats that nicely hugged that backside of his that completely captivated you. Your eyes were drawn to it again. This was stupid, to let your mind run away like this. He’d never been anything more than friendly with you. Of course, he flirted. Dean was a flirt. That was what he did. Maybe he took care of you, letting you sleep when he needed it just as much, but that was just Dean too. Protective was part of his nature.

Stop it, Y/N. You stop thinking like this right now. This isn’t going anywhere. Any straight woman that laid eyes on Dean would think exactly what you’re thinking. That’s all it is. Hormones. Attraction. One sided attraction. Dean interrupted the lecture you were giving yourself. “What are you doing?”

You looked at him like you needed an interpreter to translate what he’d just said. Dean raised his hand in the direction of the coffee pot. “You’re making coffee at midnight.” His eyes scanned the counter. “Are you hiding some whiskey somewhere you plan on putting in that?” He knew you didn’t drink your whiskey straight, and it wasn’t unusual for hunters to have a nightcap to help get them to sleep.

“No, no whiskey.” You turned off the coffee pot. “I just like the smell.”

“O...kay.” One of the endearing things about Dean was that he wasn’t shy, and he knew how to smooth over a situation. He headed straight for the bed and turned down the covers. “Which side do you want?”

“Um...it doesn’t matter. You choose.” He’d spent more time sharing a bed with another person than you had, so he probably did have a preference. You could adapt. Dean chose the right.

The first few seconds in bed with him sent all kinds of thoughts shooting through your mind. What if you did try to pursue something with him? And what if he went along with it? What if you could touch him right now? What if you could cuddle up to him and feel how warm he is? What if you could put your head on his chest like a pillow? He was so close you could smell the lingering scent of the shampoo he’d used, and that did nothing to help move your mind in a different direction.

Your mind wasn’t even focused on sex right now. That was a different fantasy. All you wanted was to feel his arms around you while you fell asleep, hear the sound of him breathing close by your ear. Dean rolled over instead and faced his back to you. You sighed internally then rolled over in the opposite direction so your back was also to him. Damn reality, but he was still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

Dean filled your dreams that night. He made you smile. He played with your hair, twisting it around his finger. He kissed you with his lips that were far softer than you ever imagined. You looked at the stars together, and he told you he saw a future with you in it. You settled your head onto his shoulder and just let yourself feel the goodness of being with him.

The dream was vivid, so vivid you could smell the leather of his jacket. His arms were solid and strong; they made you feel safe. So, when you felt the real weight of his arm on your waist, you put your hand over his and pulled his arm tighter around you. “Y/N.” The sound of his voice woke you.

Your hand was on top of his. Still caught in the dream, you threaded your fingers through his while he spooned you. “I’ll do it next time. I promise.” What was he talking about? Then he kissed the back of your neck. Your breath hitched, and you stifled the gasp in your throat.

Before you could say anything, he did it again. This kiss was further up, closer to your ear, and he squeezed your hand. “Dean.” He was still kissing you. Since when was he such a heavy sleeper? You tried again, letting go of his hand this time. “Dean.”

You were trying to steady your breathing; there wasn’t much you could do about your fast beating heart. “Do you want me to stop?” His voice was low, sleep filled and sexy. Forget about trying to control your breathing now. He had woken up the first time you said his name. Dean knew exactly what he was doing.

You put your hand back over his. “No. Don’t stop.” Dean turned you in his arms so he could get to your lips. The first touch of his mouth on yours sealed your fate. You finished the fall you’d been making for weeks now; you fell completely into that place where you knew you wanted him, feared you’d never be complete without him. There was no denying what you felt for him anymore as you opened your mouth and let him kiss you deeply, moving his tongue around yours.

His arms were around you, holding you close. One of his hands had moved down to your hip, and he was pressing your body against the length of his while he kissed you. Thoughts swirled through your mind in a way that made you forget everything else but right here, right now, and him. This was the way books and movies portrayed moments like this, but you had never experienced it until now. Flashes moved through your mind of the times he’d cracked jokes and made you laugh, his smile, and the softness you sometimes saw sneak into his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

He stopped kissing you long enough to look at you that way now. You could fall in love with him very easily; you knew you could, and that was dangerous. Dean avoided commitment; you understood why, but you’d never had a one night stand in your life. That couldn’t start now, especially not with Dean. It would make him just that much harder to get over, and make a friendship you never wanted to lose so awkward that maybe you couldn’t even work together anymore. That couldn’t happen either; you had to be sure that this was something more.

Dean noticed the change in you. “Are you okay, Y/N? Do you still want to do this?”

Your feelings were churning inside you. “I need to know something, Dean.” You dropped your eyes from his; they were so open, so sincere. You wanted them to stay that way. “Will this change anything?”

You saw him lick his lips and bite the bottom one; he was thinking too, but he didn’t interrupt. “I mean I can’t do this if tomorrow things go back to being like this never happened. I can’t watch women looking at you and you flirting with them... or whatever.” Your next words came out in a rush. “I don’t have any right to ask you not to. If that’s what you want to do, of course you can keep doing it. It’s just that I…”

“Y/N, stop. You don’t need to say anything else.” He was smiling, a sad and thoughtful kind of smile. “If we do this, Y/N, if you still want to do it after what I have to say; it won’t be like this never happened. Those women can keep looking, but I won’t look back. I’ll need more than anything they have to offer.”

He took you in his arms, holding you, like he wanted that last intimate contact in case this didn’t happen. He rested his hand on the back of your head and let his fingers sink into your hair. Dean started talking before he let you go. “I want something more, something real, something that can last. I want a chance at that.”

Dean pulled back, brushed your cheek with his thumb, and angled his head so he could see you better. “I wouldn’t do this, Y/N, if I didn’t think it could be something past tonight. You’re not that kind of girl, and I wouldn’t want you to be.”

He held your face in his hand. “I’ll try. I promise you I will. You know all the crap I’m carrying around, but I’ll try to get past it. I just can’t promise I’ll be good at commitment, but I won’t cheat on you. I promise that will never happen.”

You nodded; he kissed you softly, thoroughly, promising you in the best way he knew how that he would try to give you what you wanted and needed. He’d already given you more words than Dean was usually comfortable with, and you knew how much that meant. Dean took your clothes off slowly, taking his time to discover your body. He kissed your breasts where they pushed over the top of your plain white cotton bra, making you shiver every time his lips touched your skin. You wouldn’t have worn a bra to bed at all if he hadn’t been there, and now you felt self conscious about the ordinary one you were wearing and how it looked, but he got hard like it was the sexiest lingerie you could have possibly bought.

When Dean reached behind you to unhook it and your bra fell away, you heard his sudden intake of breath. He sounded like he’d been captivated by another jinn’s vision or a witch’s spell. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” Dean kissed you again. It was tender and unhurried. He stopped long enough to take off his shirt and you felt your own intake of breath. You’d seen him plenty of times without a shirt, but what you saw had never been for you before.

When he started kissing you again, your breasts were pressed into his chest. Your nipples rubbed against him and made you tingle in your core. They were hard by the time Dean moved down your body and took one in his mouth. His tongue was warm as it moved around your bud. He licked, nibbled, and sucked. It made you ache to be filled by him. “I need you, Dean.”

He made a trail of kisses down your body and swirled his tongue around and through your belly button. “Not yet, sweetheart. I’m not done tasting you yet.” The way he called you sweetheart was so tender. It had none of the cocky self assurance that usually came with that word when he used it.

Dean took hold of the waistband of your sleep shorts, and you lifted your hips to help him take them off. You were shaking on the inside, not sure if you were ready for this and wanting it more than you had ever wanted anything. Dean kissed you through your matching cotton panties. You weren’t self conscious about your underwear anymore; you were too focused on the way he was making you feel and wanting more from him. He whispered against your most private place, “You’re already wet for me, beautiful.” He took his time, kissing the insides of your thighs, before he took off your panties. By the time they were gone, you were even wetter for him.

Dean licked through your folds and teased your opening with his tongue until his face was covered with your arousal. When he finally locked his lips around your clit, you were desperate for him. He filled you with one of his fingers while he sucked at your clit. Dean started to move that finger, causing you to grab at his head and curl your fingers in his hair. “D...De...Dean.”

He kissed your clit even more slowly with his tongue, taking his time to circle and flick it just right. “That’s it, sweet girl, let go for me.” Then he speeded up the movements of his tongue and fingers. He moaned your name against your bud, and you came shaking and clutching handfuls of his hair in your fingers.

Dean kissed your bundle of nerves a couple more times as you came down from the high of your orgasm. His hand rubbed along your hip, grounding you, reminding you he was there. When he eased back up your body to kiss your lips again, his kiss was even more tender. He kissed you like a man who wasn’t still hard and needing, but you could feel his erection pushing against you.

He ignored it and kept kissing you. That could very well be the moment you fell in love with him. If it wasn’t, it surely happened with his next words. “We can stop; don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

You took his cheek into your hand and made sure he was looking right into your eyes. “Don’t stop, Dean. If you do, I’ll wonder for the rest of my life what it feels like to have you inside me.” Dean stared at you, and something flashed through his eyes that you couldn’t quite name. The next kiss he gave you was unlike any kiss you’d ever experienced in your life. You felt like you melded into him, became a part of him. You could taste him, feel the strength of his arms around you, and smell that fresh washed scent from the shower mixed with his own musk. He consumed your senses.

Your eyes were closed, and you were still floating in the bliss he had created around you while he took off the rest of his clothes. You didn’t see, only felt, how big he was when he entered you. The way Dean stretched you felt incredible.

You wrapped your arms around his back and accepted him, opening your legs wider. He moved inside you, stroking and hitting all the right places. “Dean.” You tightened your fingers on his back as he brought you closer to another orgasm. It was only after you climaxed a second time, that Dean allowed himself to come. The sound of your name on his lips was so raw, so real, and so good; you let yourself be amazed for a moment that you had given that to him, made him feel like that.

Dean took care of the condom quickly, so he could have you in his arms again. You fit so perfectly beside him; it was like you had always been there. You trusted him. You believed what he said when he told you that tomorrow wouldn’t only be a memory, not to be pursued again. You let that belief wrap closely around you, covering you with the reassurance it brought. But not a single thought you had ever had in your mind could compare to the way it felt to be in Dean’s arms.

You could still feel all of his body next to yours, and you were glad he hadn’t suggested a shower after sex as many of your past partners had done. This closeness and this quiet was important to you. It made you feel bonded to him somehow. Not like the sex had, it was different, but just as meaningful. It made like you feel like he was in no rush to end this, to move on from it. That made you feel comfortable, and it made you feel safe.

Dean played with your hair and ran his finger tips over your arm and shoulder the way he had in your dreams. After a few minutes, you felt your eyes start to close. You couldn’t let yourself go to sleep yet. You didn’t want this to end, and so far Dean hadn’t said anything. So you asked him, “When you said, ‘I promise I’ll do it next time’ what did you mean?”

His voice was filled with a smile. “It was fabric softener.”

You raised your head and looked at him, confusion all over your face. “What?”

He laughed a tiny laugh that was lighthearted and free of any and all the burdens he usually carried. “Yeah. I forgot to put it in the wash, and I know you love the way it makes your clothes feel.”

You squinted your eyes, still confused. “You were doing my laundry in your dream?”

Dean reached up to take a tendril of your hair and pull it through his fingers. “Our laundry. We were together. We had a place of our own. We were happy.” He glanced down, your hair was still between his fingers. “I told you when I came to bed, and I thought you’d forgive me if I showed you what you mean to me.” He looked back at you then. “So, I put my arm around you and kissed you. Only, that didn’t happen only in the dream. And once it did, I knew how much I wanted it to happen.”

“I did too, Dean. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.” You looked at his lips that you had kissed, his lips that had kissed you everywhere. “I just didn’t think it could happen, that it would happen.”

Moonlight was shining through the cabin window, and it illuminated his eyes showing how deeply green and beautiful they were. “It has now. How do you feel?”

“I don’t know if you want me to answer that question.” You bowed your head, and your hair fell into his face.

Dean’s voice was gentle and so quiet. “I know how it makes me feel. It makes me feel like I never want this to end.”

You put your head back on his chest. It was quiet again for a while. Then he spoke again, and the smile was back in his voice. “I get to wake up with you tomorrow.” You smiled too and kissed the spot over his heart. After that, you could sleep.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @waywardrose13 @theychosefamily @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @team-free-will-you-idjiot @ellewritesfix05

#spnfluffbingo #spngenrebingo #dean fluff #dean smut #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 30

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 12.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act four ➻ part five

“I hate playing a waiting game,” Jongho mutters as he runs a finger over the rim of his glass. The liquor inside trembles from the faint touch, small waves rippling over the surface before coming to a rest again when Jongho pulls his hand back.

You pay little attention to the movements. You’re far too preoccupied with the dainty hand-drawn map in front of you: the small blueprint you hastily drew before coming to the dingy bar thirty minutes ago. Too much of your time in the military is hazy, and the parts that are clear and at the forefront of your mind are most certainly not diagrams of whatever the military bases look like. You have little hope that your memory is serving you well, and even so, there is no guarantee that the military here on Kebos hasn’t changed their systems in the past few years. Jongho holds much more faith in your abilities, however, and he hums as he glances over your work.

“It looks good.”

You can’t keep from rolling your eyes at the tone of his voice, mostly thanks to the constant thrum of anxiety in your gut.

“There’s a big chance that this base won’t even be built the same as in the past,” you mumble. You retrace a few lines off to the side in efforts to busy yourself and quell your nerves, but it does little to help. Jongho shakes his head, and you catch the motion out the corner of your eye.

“This one has been standing for at least sixty years, according to Seonghwa. It’s merely been repurposed time and time again, so… layout should be the same. Even if it’s a little different, you know what you’re talking about. Surely Yeosang can manage it too with his experience.”

“No, he’s – he wouldn’t have spent his time in warehouses and inventory bases. Not with a royal background.” You blink down at the table with little interest, taking your lower lip between your teeth and gnawing lightly at it. “It’s too quiet. Isn’t it? Are San and Yeosang okay?”

A sigh passes Jongho’s lips as he looks over at you, then he shakes his head once more.

“They’re probably fine. They–”

As though on cue, the comm pressed to the shell of your ear crackles to life, and Jongho winces as his does the same, the suddenness of the action catching you both off-guard.

“Hey, it’s me.” You and Jongho both exchange a glance, one that holds a bit of disappointment as it’s only Seonghwa’s voice that crackles through the comms channel. “I’m just checking in – have you made it yet?” You know that the ‘you’ in his sentence is figurative — something to keep Hongjoong from catching onto what’s really going on behind the scenes.

“No, they haven’t – we, I mean, we haven’t gotten there yet,” you reply, keeping your tone to a quiet minimum.

“Can you hear me? Hello?” Relief finally comes, and San’s voice is like warm honey against your ear.

“San,” you exhale. Your jaw stutters a bit as you try to come up with something else to say, but San continues speaking before you get the chance to say anything.

“We just got past a radio barrier. I’ve been trying to reach you guys for at least ten minutes.”

“Well, comms are back online, it seems,” Seonghwa responds, voice fading a bad at the tail end of his sentence. Jongho extends a hand towards you and drops it atop your thigh. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, and you pass him a smile of gratitude.

“I told you not to worry,” he murmurs quiet enough to escape the comms. Your smile devolves into a slight frown, and you bring your chin forward again.

“That was the easy part. Now they need to get past the militia barrier and scanners.”

“You don’t have any faith in us?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that crackles over the comms this time, and you huff out a laugh.

“Stay quiet. There might be guards or patrols nearby.” You refuse your attention back to the map before you, trying to pinpoint where the pair might be at this point. “Hey, one of you look to the left. There should be a grey box on the wall. It’s a router to the laser scanners. Maybe tucked closer to the floor?”

“Yeah, yeah, I see one,” San responds quickly.

“Okay, you’ll need to shut that down by pulling a… um, hopefully a red wire out and cutting it? I never took care of these mechanics on jobs.” You swallow around nothing, feeling the heat of Jongho’s stare on the side of your head, but you try to push it out of your mind in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

“On jobs?” San echoes, curiosity clear in his tone. “You were a soldier. What use would have for jobs like these?” You inhale sharply, and the sound carries over the comms with haste.

“Focus, San,” Seonghwa cuts in without giving you a chance to answer his question.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll cut the wire righ–”

“No, no! Wait a second, you need to know something before going in. As soon as that wire is cute, you’ll only have a limited amount of time to get to the infirmary where the serums are stocked. The guards will notice that something is off and that there’s a break-in within the facility so speed is key,” you explain, maintaining your hushed tone from earlier as you trace a finger over the map on the table. “The infirmary will be straight down the hall, then you’ll need to take the first left, two rights, another left, and it’ll be the last door on the left at the end of that corridor. There is a chance that they don’t store the serum in the infirmary, but all new recruits are taken to one before going through induction. I’ve seen it happen too many times to forget it, so I’m fairly confident that that’s also where the operations happen and the serums should be there.”

“And what are we supposed to do if someone is there?” Yeosang inquires. You hesitate a moment, not realizing that he’s speaking to you and not Seonghwa until the lieutenant provides no response.

“Um… kill them,” you mutter. Jongho’s expression doesn’t shift in the slightest, and he remains unreadable as you search his eyes for some sort of reaction. The only response you get is from Yeosang in the form of a huff of air.

“That’s more like the killer I know you to be, Ghost.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” San sneers back without missing a beat. Yeosang hisses through his teeth – a sound that is nothing more than a whistle over the comms channel.

“Am I stepping on little lover boy’s toes, is that it? Seems like you need to bring that up with someone else before you go around claiming things for your own.”

A crash resounds, then a bang against metal that is so loud it rings in both your ears. You can only imagine what’s happening on the other side of the line, whether San and Yeosang are merely fighting with each other or in serious danger.

“Don’t you fucking call her a thing! Should I start referring to Wooyoung as ‘slave’ again?”

“You fuc–”

“Knock it the fuck off, you two.” Seonghwa’s voice growls over the line. His tone is so severe that both you and Jongho sit up a bit straighter in your seats even though he’s not referring to either of you. San and Yeosang fall silent at the sound of Seonghwa’s harsh tone, not daring to make a sound as the lieutenant continues speaking. “Fight over who has a bigger dick later. This is more important than fucking feelings.”

“I’m not the one having trouble keeping feelings in check,” Yeosang spits.

“God, Hongjoong is a fucking moron for putting the two of them on a mission together,” Jongho mutters as he rubs the skin between his eyes. “Like putting fire and ice together and asking them to cooperate.”

“Yeosang. Don’t make me tell you twice. Do not start shit, and get the damn mission done without further trouble.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” It’s more than obvious that Yeosang is biting his tongue through the words, holding back what he truly wants to say in efforts to be cooperative, and you almost respect him for it if not the preexisting annoyance you have surrounding the man.

“You two need to hurry this along,” you say once the silence becomes too palpable to handle. “It’s almost time for a unit to make the rounds and check the systems. You need to get going before the half-hour.”

You don’t get a verbal response from either San or Yeosang, and instead, a reply comes in the form of a loud clang of metal. The line falls quiet after that, not because it’s gone dead but because neither man is speaking anymore, and now it comes down to playing the waiting game as they make their way through the base. You drop a hand atop where Jongho’s rests against your leg and clench your fingers hard around his. The wait causes you to hold your breath. You expect the worst to happen, for one of the two to say that they’ve been caught, or that your map was wrong entirely and you’ve led them into a dead end. The possibilities of failure are endless, and your mind won’t stop running through all of them.

“You said the last door on the left?” Yeosang huffs, radio crackling with noise. You exhale a sigh of relief, and tension falls away from your shoulders once you hear San’s footsteps falling beside Yeosang’s.

“Yes, yes, at the end of the corridor.”

“Yeah, we’re in the right place.”

“Are you certain?”

“It’s a big white door with the word infirmary on it, I’m fairly certain we’re in the right place,” Yeosang retorts through a scoff.

“Well, be careful going in as there could be–”

A crash interrupts your train of thought, leaving you to cut off with a deep sigh, and you roll your eyes to keep from snapping at the pair on the other side of the line.

“Do you have to be so loud and obnox—holy shit.” San’s voice falls quiet, and the insult he threw in Yeosang’s direction must not process because the Elitist doesn’t say a word in reply.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s… There have to be hundreds if not thousands of vials in here. Hell, if only you guys could see this.”

“The serum?” You murmur even though you can assume what San’s answer will be.

“Every single one… all have this strange-looking blue liquid in them.”

A stab of a needle, a syringe going into your skin, a strange blue liquid being pushed into you. Warmth, then the feeling of your blood turning to ice.

Your eyes flutter shut. You bite the inside of your cheek sharply to ground yourself, keep yourself from slipping too far into the memory, and Jongho’s hand twists so that his fingers slip through yours. You couldn’t be more grateful for the gesture now; the warmth and comfort in it grounds you just enough to stay on track.

“That’s it.”

“You’re sure?” San inquires, more of a precautionary question than anything else.

“Positive,” you mutter back without hesitation. Seonghwa’s voice crackles over next, a coolly spoken command falling from his lips that has a chill running down your spine.

“Secure the package then.”

“You want us to destroy them all?” San asks. Something twists in your gut, something so unpleasant that you could vomit just from the thought of it. This was the agreement, was it not?

“As many as you can, yes.”

Morality is far too muddy for your liking. Too many hazy and thin lines, too many places where one should read between the lines, and far too many instances in which morals can clash. Life would be much easier if morals didn’t exist at all.

Of all people, you should want these vials destroyed more than anyone else. Yet you can’t shake the thoughts that intruded the precious day, the ones which haven’t left you alone since.

No matter which way you look at the situation, you can only see it as taking away Mingi’s choice. No one is asking him what he wants, and while you understand the reasoning behind that, you cannot grasp how this is the just thing to do. Whether you give him the serum or not, he won’t have a say in the matter. Where is the line drawn? When it comes to morality, when is it okay to take away someone’s consent and leave them with nothing? Surely when it comes to protecting them, but both these options... both can defend him. What then?

“I… Jongho, we – we can’t do this,” you stutter. Jongho’s hand slips away from yours as he turns to look at you. The confusion across his features is more than evident, and you wish you had a proper explanation for him, but your mind is running a hundred miles per second without slowing down. “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” Jongho’s tone holds too much warning in it. You ignore it all.

“Don’t destroy them,” you call over the comms. “San, Yeosang, don’t destroy them.”

“Why? This is what we agreed on! We were supposed to destroy them!” In the back of your mind, you wonder if San might hate you for this.

“I agreed to nothing,” you murmur, unable to keep your voice steady for much longer. Yeosang snorts.

“Then what was the point of coming here? We aren’t going to do anything except break in and leave empty-handed?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Jongho presses further, and his tone is much firmer than before. You can’t bear to look him in the eye – the weight of that feels too heavy on your shoulders.

“I – this is – I’m sorry. I’m sorry, J-Jongho, I–” Your words fail you. You want nothing more than to curl into a ball and shy away from Jongho’s lingering stare. There’s a certain kind of disappointment hiding behind his dark irises, one that takes you back to an all too unpleasant memory.

“How could you do this, Y/N?” This is the last memory you want to revisit right now, but you can’t keep it from overwhelming you in mere seconds.

“How could you be so selfish?” Iron bars separate you from the man, but it doesn’t keep you from catching the gleaming emotion in his eyes. “They won’t give you the luxury of death, don’t you realize that? They’ll take everything from you. Leave you as an empty shell. Throw you to the wolves. They’re going to take you away from us, Y/N.”

“Hyunwoo, I already said t–”

“Just give me some more time. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“How? There’s no fixing this, Hyunwoo! We were caught. I was caught! How do you expect to fix that?”

“I would rather die than see them take your memories of us away.”

Your chin falls to your chest. Your body no longer feels like your own, more like someone has possessed you and taken control, and that’s the only way you can justify the next words that tumble from your lips.

“Yeosang, secure some vials, as many as you think is reasonable.”

“What the hell are you thinking? Are you even thinking?” San’s words sink deep into your chest, penetrating your skin with a pain that’s worse than a knife or bullet. Out the corner of your eye, you can see Jongho’s eyes blow wide open as shock overtakes him as well. “This isn’t the time to joke around, Y/N!” You bite at the inside of your cheek, letting the metallic tinge of blood hit your tongue and swirl through your mouth rather than offering any sort of response to San.

“…Seonghwa?” Yeosang is asking for confirmation, for Seonghwa to overrule you or agree with you, and you don’t know what to expect from the lieutenant until he breathes deeply from his end of the comms.

“Do as told. Secure some vials and get the hell out of there.”

Yeosang is in the midst of replying to Seonghwa’s order when the sound of shattering glass resounds. You don’t need to be present to know what is going on, and Yeosang’s shouts confirm those suspicions easily.

“San, you fucking idiot, what are you doing?”

“I refuse to let this happen!” San counters, tone equally scathing and booming.

“I’m not – San, please, I’m not saying to give the serum to Mingi!” You argue. Every ounce of your tone is weak, too fragile to compete with the rage filling San’s, and you’re certain the words fall on deaf ears. “I can’t do – I can’t take away Mingi’s choice like this, San. If he wants it, then please. Please, if he wants it then we will need to have the serum on hand. If you would just listen to reason for a mo—”

A shrill ringing hits your ear so hard that you wince, and Jongho does the same at your side.

“He just triggered a fucking alarm,” Yeosang hisses through the din. “And won’t quit with his idiotic behavior of knocking the vials off the shelves.”

“You need to stop him, Yeos—”

“I already got three, Hwa. All that’s left is to knock the idiot out seeing as this was not part of the mission.”

“You – You can’t leave without him,” you stammer, head throbbing from the insistent blaring of alarms surrounding Yeosang’s voice.

“I know that. Your little lover boy will be fine once he’s done fucking things up royally.”

The table shudders and your cup clatters as Jongho pushes to his feet, thighs bumping against the lip of the metal, and you have to strain your neck to examine his face.

“Yeosang can’t get out of there with San alone,” he explains without sparing you even the smallest glance. Your heart strains painfully in your chest. What was the cost of your morality? To have Jongho not bear to even look at you? To hear San speak to you with such disdain in his voice? You cannot imagine morality is worth it at all if this is the cost.

“Please sit down,” you beg, hand stretching out desperately to catch hold of Jongho’s sleeve. “There should be – there’s a back exit across the hall, through the door and to the right. Yeosang, you can get out through there.”

“Easy enough. San’s like a feather compared to you, Jongho. I’ll be fine on my own.” The claim appeases the dark-haired Berserker for the time being, and he sinks back down to the bench without another word. You’re more than grateful for the huffs coming from Yeosang and ringing alarms in the background that fill the messy silence hanging between you and the man. “The exit is right here. Where do I go after?”

“Um, you take the first left you can find and follow the path you used to get there. You’ll recognize it, at least you should. Hopefully, all the guards will be inside thanks to the alarms. We should meet you near the hangar bay.”

“Meet him closer than that,” Seonghwa cuts in. His voice has fallen to whisper, no doubt to shroud the words from Hongjoong’s ears. “He can’t carry San the whole way back with the vials on his person too. He’ll need help getting back with both in one piece regardless of what he claims.”

“He’s right,” Jongho mutters. This time when he stands up, he takes hold of your arm and pulls you with him. The grip is surprisingly gentle and light, and for a moment it feels as though you have done nothing wrong in his eyes. “Can’t believe how quickly things went to shit.”

It is an opportunity to apologize. You recognize that much, but your damn pride screams at the edges of your thoughts and tells you not to apologize for doing the right thing.

“It’s fine,” you utter instead. Defeat creeps in like a plague. “Everyone got out in one piece.” Jongho’s gaze shifts to meet yours.

“At what cost? Hongjoong will tear the crew apart because he can’t think straight, and now – now you would join him in that? What are you thinking?” The confrontation hits you square in the chest, and you nearly trip over your own feet as Jongho continues to guide you along. For several moments, all you can manage are a few shakes of your head.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t the agreement for you to stay but… Mingi needs to make this choice. Not Hongjoong, not Yunho, not San, not you. It has to be Mingi.” Silence ensues between the two of you. You can only drink it in for the few precious moments it lasts before Jongho struggles through his next statement.

“Deep down… I know you’re right, and deep down I know that my desires are selfish and biased.” Jongho manages to maintain his steady pace, eyes so focused on the ground before him that he nearly walks into a wall before you move him aside. “But if I let him go through with this procedure, I don’t know what I will do. Remaking Mingi is a cost too high. I would not be able to have my redemption, I would not be able to see my family ever again, and I – I would not be able to forgive myself either.”

You come to a sudden halt where you are, and the pause forces Jongho to jerk back and face you at last. His eyes shine in a way that hurts to look at, tears that threaten to spill over, but he pulls them back before they can fall.

“Listen, Jongho, I don’t know what happened with your family, and I’m not asking to know that either. That needs to be something that comes from you when you are ready and no one else. But there are no rules for redemption. Believe me, I have tried to find them and I have tried to follow them. It can come from anywhere and anything. My redemption – mine is in the form of a handful of pardon papers with no signature on them, and I am waiting for the day where I can forgive myself enough to put that name on there and hand them over. That door – it has been closed many times, but that doesn’t mean that the door is locked. It means that there will be another opportunity in the future. The same goes for you and Mingi. Giving Mingi this choice could be your redemption for all you know. Helping him and making sure that he gets to do something for himself, that he gets to make a choice based on what he wants.”

“It’s… it’s always been about helping Mingi,” Jongho whispers. His lip quivers as he speaks the words, raw emotion pouring through, and in that moment you can truly see the level of restraint and control Jongho has over his emotions. Even when on the verge of tears, the Berserker exudes no anger, no aggression – merely pure and untouched feelings. As vulnerable as the moment is, you know that if you don’t get moving now, Yeosang will be at risk of getting caught especially with an unconscious San and stolen goods on his person. You force your feet back into motion, and Jongho moves alongside you with little resistance.

“There can be a solution then, Jongho, by making sure that Mingi is the one to make the decision.”

“You’re r-right. I know that that has always been an option but I fear what Mingi might say. And I fear the hold that Hongjoong’s word has on Mingi. I cannot trust him to make a completely individual decision without being influenced by Hongjoong in some way.”

“And what if Mingi didn’t know where Hongjoong stood on the issue?”

“That’s… a possibility, for sure. He may not know what Hongjoong would want or ask of him; he could only assume. But he doesn’t operate on assumptions, just as he doesn’t make choices for himself. How is he supposed to know which one is right?” You wish you had the time to stop Jongho again and look him in the eye.

“I can’t pretend to know or understand Mingi better than you do, Jongho. But of all people, you should be the one able to answer that question, no?”

“I should be, yes.” Jongho lets his sentence trail off with a sigh, and he brings a hand up to comb through his hair, pushing it off his forehead with the movements. “I know that Mingi will make the decision that feels best to him. I worry because there are so many unknowns involved. However, I-I want to give the choice over to him, and I want to give him a chance, if nothing else. At the end of the day, all I want is for Mingi to be alright.”

“Then be the one to give this to him, please.” Perhaps you are merely searching for some sort of justification, something that makes your decision okay and fair, and perhaps it is selfish of you to thrust this onto his shoulders rather than bear the weight yourself. But as Jongho nods, everything feels okay for that brief moment. Then the Berserker disappears from your side before you can blink, and a flash of blond appears in front of you. It takes some time for you to recognize Yeosang standing there, profusely sweating to the point where his bangs are glued to his forehead thanks to the moisture. You hardly process the limpness of San’s body around Jongho’s shoulders as Yeosang passes him over to the Berserker, and you think that if you dwell on it any longer, the pain will be too much to handle.

Then, all of a sudden, Yeosang is facing you head-on and it’s as though you are staring down the gauntlet of death just from the look in his eyes. It doesn’t soften even as Jongho shifts San’s weight in his arms and begins to guide the way back to the hangar.

“Did you get the serum?” You ask, tone so thick that your voice is hardly audible. Yeosang falls into step with you when you move to follow Jongho.

“Of course I did,” Yeosang scoffs as he exposes three vials of stark blue liquid. You blink away before the memory comes swirling back.

“Do you still think it was the right thing to do?”

“What of you? Was your decision the right one?” Yeosang counters without missing a beat.

“Of course it was. Actually giving Mingi a choice in the matter is what’s fair.”

“Then you are naive and narrow-minded, only looking at one part of a larger picture. Think about San’s reaction. Truly stop and think about it. Because of your decision and what you chose to do, you took away his choice in the matter. Jongho’s choice. Seonghwa’s. Mine. The people who didn’t want this did not get a choice, did they?”

“Sometimes, not everyone gets to make a choice. There is right and wrong, and the right thing to do was what I did. Jongho understands that and he agrees with me. He is willing to cooperate and talk with Mingi about this matter.”

“Would San think the same? It didn’t sound like he would earlier. In fact, it sounded like San was so vehemently adamant about it being the wrong thing to do that he was ready to do anything to stop it. You can handle me hating you but I wonder — can you handle San hating you?” You sink your teeth into your lip. The skin splits under the pressure, and you taste blood on the tip of your tongue.

“He will understand that it had to be done,” you whisper. “He has to.”

“Yet you only say that to save yourself from the pain of reality, do you not? You don’t truly believe it. Because after all that he’s been through, don’t you imagine that San finds more security in his own morals than those of others?”

“Stop.” You intend for the word to be spoken with force and anger, but the syllable breaks on your tongue as the corners of your eyes burn with unshed tears. Your lip quivers dangerously, and despite all your efforts, you cannot keep it from happening. Yeosang’s glare is nothing compared to the pain ripping through your chest.

“You don’t even try to pretend to be an Elitist. Perhaps Wooyoung’s suspicions were right.”

“What are you talking about?” You hiss between gritted teeth. Yeosang merely shakes his head and refuses to answer your question.

“To answer your original question,” he continues after a small pause, “yes, it was the right decision. It was the right thing to do. And you – you need to be secure in that. You need to stand by it and be strong. If you knew beforehand that you would not be able to stick to the plan, you should not have dangled opportunity and empty promises before San and Jongho’s eyes.”

“And what would you have done?” You spit.

“I would have done the same as you,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders as though it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I cannot pretend that I would not make the same mistakes you have for my weaknesses are far too obvious in that regard.”

“Wooyoung.” It is spoken more as a statement rather than a question, a mere confirmation of what Yeosang said, and his small nod only adds to that.

“It is clear that you care for San. Whether that care runs as deep as the care Wooyoung and I share for each other is yet to be seen, but I would encourage you to tread carefully. Most pain can be fixed with time, but certain mistakes are irreversible. You’re toying a dangerous line between what can be undone and what can’t.”

“Is this a warning, Yeosang?”

“Not one spoken out of spite, as surprising as that may be. One spoken from experience.” Yeosang’s tone falls a bit quiet with the words, and even though it lasts less than a second, you spot a flickering emotion in his dark eyes. The briefest moment of vulnerability that is gone before you know it. “Regret is a disease, Y/N. Once it blossoms even the smallest bud, it won’t leave as long as you live, even if the worst is yet to come. Even if you haven’t done what you set out to do yet. Even if you have only dreamed about crossing that line in your worst nightmares. It never leaves you, and I would not wish that pain on even my worst enemies.”

It hurts to swallow, like you are trying to down a brick that has somehow lodged itself in the column of your throat, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the silence. You don’t have to suffer in it for much longer either, because the shadow of the ship looms before you, tucked away inside the hangar and shrouded from prying eyes as it has been throughout your whole stay on the planet. Jongho shifts San’s weight on his shoulders as he slips through the airlock and turns to face you and Yeosang.

“I’ll take San to the medbay to let him rest. You two should probably head straight to the bridge.” His gaze lingers on your face for a little while longer. You wait, expecting him to say something more, but that never comes and you are left with his silence until he turns on his heel and heads down the corridor.

Yeosang doesn’t wait for you to gather your bearings before doing the same, walking in the opposite direction, and you nearly trip over your feet in your rush to chase after him. He provides no conversation, although given what he shared with you not long ago, you aren’t sure you even want to hear him speak out of fear of how much it might hurt. His warning has left the bitter taste of ambiguity and curiosity on the back of your tongue. It was always clear that he cared for Wooyoung more than anyone else, but for him to speak with such pain in his eyes – however brief that pain may have been – means that the pair have been through more together than you initially imagined. And if Yeosang could barely conceal his pain effectively as an Elitist, you cannot imagine what kind of pain you would have seen had Wooyonug been the one telling you that. And somewhere in the back of your mind, a vague and fuzzy image arises of San’s face, eyes filled with that pain and tears that you wish not to think about. You can at least be glad when you reach the bridge to find Seonghwa standing there alone, eyes watching the entrance with bated breath. He heaves a deep sigh when you and Yeosang step through, fists relaxing by his sides.

“Jongho and San?”

“Medbay,” Yeosang mutters, stepping around the lieutenant to get to Hongjoong’s quarters. Seonghwa lets him go without a fight, but the moment you try to do the same, he slips in front of you. Hands find your shoulders, and his grip hovers between a firm hold and a gentle touch. It is the most minimal form of intimacy, but it’s more than you have had from Seonghwa in at least a week.

“What happened out there?” You know what he’s referring to and what he’s asking but you cannot provide the answer he’s searching for.

“Nothing happened,” you mutter back. Seonghwa’s touch disappears, and you curse yourself for missing the warmth so much. It returns less than a second later as he presses his hands to the underside of your jaw and cradles your face as though you’re made from glass. He doesn’t utter a word for too long; instead, his gaze continues to trail over every centimeter of your features like he’s trying to memorize the sight in front of him or see through you to find the truth. You know it’s not logical but it feels as though hours pass before he speaks again.

“We can talk later. Right now we ought to see Hongjoong about this mess.”

“I would rather be anywhere else.”

Seonghwa tilts his chin to the side, pondering your words for a few seconds, and then he nods slowly. It’s like he can see straight through your walls without having to do more than blink.

“You should go see San. Check on him and see if he’s doing well. Yeosang and I can easily handle Hongjoong on our own.”

You return the words with a nod of your own and pull away from Seonghwa to do as told. You don’t get more than a foot away, however, Seonghwa’s fingers closing around your wrist and pulling you forward once more. Air catches in your lungs. Your eyes find his nearly onyx ones, refusing to break contact even to blink as he guides you back with hesitant steps. You gasp out a shaky exhale when your back hits the wall. Seonghwa doesn’t stop moving forward until he’s intruded on your breathing space, lips so close to yours that if you exhale too much, your mouths would connect.

“How foolish of me to think that I was going to… forgive me for being greedy, I – I missed this,” Seonghwa whispers.

“Being physical or me?”

“Need I remind you that I swore I would not have you unfairly?” Seonghwa tilts his head back only to huff out a laugh. When he returns to his original position, you are right there to greet him with a kiss, slotting your lips against his with a force that surprises the both of you. Seonghwa inhales sharply, and his shoulders tense from the shock of the action before he settles into the touch and presses back into your lips with equal fervor. You refuse to part until you’re desperate for air, pulling away to breathe in each other’s air. “I suppose that means you missed me as well?”

The question is meant to be teasing and nothing more. You are well aware of that, and yet it flips an invisible switch in your head that sends you reeling.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

Bright, bright eyes sparkling with all the love in the universe.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I would give my life for yours if you would just let me.”

Your chin dips closer to your chest, shrouding yourself from Seonghwa’s prying gaze until he shifts with you in attempts to make eye contact.

“I’m here, Y/N, talk to me.”

“Don’t subject me to a life without you in it, Jisung.”

Seonghwa’s fingers brush over your chin, and he lifts your face just enough to examine your distraught expression with one that is equally concerned and distressed.

“I-I…” The words you truly want to say die on your tongue.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

Gone.

“I’m here, Y/N.”

“Promise me that you won’t.”

Jisung is gone.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Perhaps promises are made only to be broken and that is the only reason why he could not maintain the one he made to you. You’re certain that your life could be described as the sum of broken promises, and all you can amount to is a gross combination of bitterness and pessimism. Even though Seonghwa says he isn’t going anywhere, you can’t shake the pain that has overstayed its welcome yet refuses to go away. You would put all your trust in him if not for that same pain. You owe him an explanation – a decent one in the very least, and a proper one since he’s been so patient and gentle with you – and yet all you can manage to do is slip out of Seonghwa’s grasp.

“I – Hongjoong needs you more than I do right now,” you whisper. Looking up at Seonghwa’s expression provides a completely new punch in the gut, and you could burst into tears on the spot just from the sight of it.

“Yet even if you did need me more, would you let me help you?’ Seonghwa asks. His tone does not rise about a whisper, and you know that is merely because it conceals most of the wobble in his voice.

“If I knew what I needed, then yes.” You release a dry laugh, and it sears your throat as it breaches the air before you, hand coming up to comb through your hair. Seonghwa says nothing more. It may not be an opportunity to leave but you take it as one, slipping back out through the corridor and leaving in the direction you came.

Each step away from the bridge seems heavier than the last. You aren’t sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up to you and hitting hard or if the emotional distress has caused it, but walking all the way to the medbay is a struggle of its own. The hazy thoughts that occupy your mind don’t help in the slightest, especially those surrounding the fuzzy and unwelcome memories of Jisung. Sheer willpower is the only thing keeping you on your feet at this point surely because otherwise you would collapse or pass out on the floor outside the door.

The metal door slides open to reveal the white expanse of the medbay, only disturbed by San’s presence on one of the beds and Yunho’s form sitting at the foot of his bed with a tablet in hand. Yunho snaps his chin in your direction the moment you step through, eyes flipping from apprehension to something more relaxed once he realizes who you are. San seems to be comfortably asleep with no wires or tubes connected to him. Just resting. You wonder how long it’s been since he had this sort of opportunity to rest without being disturbed.

“You just missed Jongho,” Yunho says, returning his focus to the tablet. “Couldn’t bear to be around me any longer.” A scoff follows, and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

“Is everything alright between the two of you?”

“I’m supposed to be the doctor, not you.” Yunho laughs, a sound that is loud and clear but does not disturb San’s rest in the slightest. Your gaze trails over the Spectre before coming to a halt on Yunho’s side profile. You shrug even though he isn’t looking at you, hoping that he will catch the motion in his peripheral.

“What happens when the doctor needs someone to talk to?”

“He goes to the captain.”

“What about now? Would you go to the captain now?”

Yunho pushes the tablet onto his lap. Sharp brown eyes flitter up to meet yours, and the first and only thing you notice is a certain lackluster gleam in them. The usual confidence and grandeur to his aura is dull and dismal. He nods his head towards a spare stool, and you’re quick to drag it forward and sit near the foot of the bed.

“No, I wouldn’t. But you’re probably wondering what I’m thinking too. After preaching about how awful the military was for taking away your choices, how could I of all people stoop so low?”

“Everyone sees situations differently.”

“I regret bringing it up and making it an option.” Yunho toys with a loose thread on the blanket under him as he speaks. You’ve never thought the man to be young – childish and immature in some regards, mostly thanks to his jokes and sense of humor – but he has never looked to be a child in your eyes.

Right now, with his legs pulled under him and hands clenching the white blanket, you can say with confidence that Yunho looks like a child. One who is lost and without direction, seeking answers to questions that he cannot ask. And yet, it only makes sense that he would appear that way. He mentioned how he grew up in his mother’s profession learning medicine and tending to wounded people day in and day out. The festival was a luxury he only got once a year, and from the way he spoke of it, it sounded like it was the sole luxury he had.

So no, you have never seen Yunho in this light, but now it is clearer than ever that Yunho suffers and struggles because he was a child who was forced to grow up too quickly.

“A good doctor wouldn’t do that.” He speaks in such a way that sounds as though he is trying to convince himself of that fact rather than you.

“Are you a bad doctor for one mistake?”

“I am a bad doctor for not being able to properly help Mingi.”

“Why is that your job though? Especially when Jongho says that he’s the one best equipped to handle it.”

“I witne–it’s just in my nature. I have seen too much pain in my life to sit idly by and watch others suffer. I have to help people, no matter who they are or what they are. I have to fix them because if not then — then I… what am I if I don’t? A failure of a doctor. So if this fixes Mingi then why would I not take that chance?”

“Would a good doctor take away someone’s choice?” You inquire. “Do you not give every other member of the crew one? Why is Mingi different?”

“Nothing else works. What am I supposed to do? All possible treatments over the past six years have failed. The progress we’ve made is minimal at best but Mingi is still in pain. As a doctor, I am supposed to take that pain away but I only see it getting worse and worse with time as he learns more and understands his feelings better. For what? I know that it’s because of me. I just… I want to take it away.”

“What are you trying to do, Yunho? Are you afraid? Is that it?”

Yunho doesn’t respond right away; instead, he glances down at San’s resting face with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His next breaths come in shaky gasps – desperate attempts to keep from falling apart. You have only seen him look so fragile and vulnerable once before: when he held a gun to a thug’s head and told him to move out of the way.

“I am only afraid of one thing and that is failure,” Yunho admits once the silence has dragged on for a bit. “And every time I look at Mingi, I see a reflection of my failures. Forgive me for doing things that will take away that reflection.”

There is a stark selfishness in Yunho’s words, an inherent interest to save himself rather than Mingi, and that sends a surge of anger through your veins. You huff air through your teeth, letting the sound ring before standing up and moving towards the door once more. You hesitate just before stepping out and turn to face Yunho head-on as you speak your next words.

“I won’t forgive you for being a coward who is afraid to face the thing he fears most or for being a selfish prick who only cares about his own pain. You can run all you want but don’t ask for forgiveness.”

It puts Yunho on the defensive; his eyes blaze and he sits up a bit straighter with a hardly concealed venom to his gaze.

“And you would know that feeling well, wouldn’t you?” He laughs, and this time the sound holds none of its usual mirth and brightness. “Running? That’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t outrun who you used to be because you are too afraid to lose it. Letting go and moving on is your biggest fear and the thing that holds you back the most. You can stand there and preach about how I should face my fears that are practically trivial compared to yours while you do what? Keep running and clinging to the past?”

You aren’t aware of the tears in your eyes until they hit your cheeks, leaving a path of messy streaks down to your jawline. Yunho has surely already seen the effect his words have on you, but you jerk your head away from his prying gaze anyway and glare at the metal of the door.

“So much for being a good doctor,” you hiss out with as much stability as you can manage. Then you are out the door and gone into the hall. There is nothing more to say, and his words have already taken root in your chest, stretching its reach far into your veins, and every fragmented memory and broken flashback you’ve had throughout the day comes rushing back with the force of a typhoon.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

“Promise me that you won’t.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Every muscle in your body feels heavier than lead, and you aren’t sure how you manage to keep pushing yourself forward without collapsing. The tremble in your fingers is a sign of what’s to come, panic surges through your veins and swells around your vision, and you reach out to brace yourself on the wall.

“Just give me some more time. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“How? There’s no fixing this, Hyunwoo! We were caught. I was caught! How do you expect to fix that?”

“I would rather die than see them take your memories of us away.”

What would they say if they could see you now? Perhaps you replaced them too quickly? You were quick to push them out of your life? What did Hyunwoo sacrifice himself for? Your self-destructive plan to pardon his crimes and put yourself back in jail?

The memories swirling around you are so vivid that you can almost feel Jisung’s hand in yours when he appears at the forefront of your mind. That vision doesn’t last for long though because something new and unwelcome hits you out of nowhere. It strikes with enough force to make you stumble and collapse to your knees, fingers clenching against the cold floor as a new image comes to life.

Everything is dark around you, save for the pale yellow moonlight that filters through a small grate in the ceiling. You can hardly see the scenery outside thanks to the puffy clouds covering the round and full moon. Your prison rattles as the driver hits a bump in the road, then a horse neighs, and you curl into yourself more. The shackles around your wrists are heavy, chains dragging on the floor of your walled cage, but the thick collar about your neck is the only one you can feel. It’s tight enough to choke you, letting you breathe just enough to stay conscious but nothing more than that. Somewhere off to your left, there is some whispering. You can’t understand it – the language is foreign and strange to your ears – but when you glance over, you find a child bearing similar shackles as you.

“Lasu – lasu kan tan wogo?”

You don’t respond even as her eyes meet yours.

“Lasu kan tan wogo?”

The image disperses, her whispers fading into a vague nothingness as you return to reality, and all you can see is the haze of the lights above you blurring with the walls. The edges of your vision are speckled with black dots, and your head hurts so badly you can barely keep your eyes open. You don’t have to for much longer because you can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, but just before you do, you see a pair of unfamiliar black boots approaching you.

Warmth. Everything is warm as strong arms slip around your body and lift you high with overwhelming ease. Nothing about the touch or scent of the person is familiar, and you know that it can’t possibly be Jongho or Wooyoung. It shouldn’t be San or Yunho either, but that’s more logical than a random intruder coming onto the ship. A hand brushes over your forehead, hot against your clammy and cold skin.

“I could sense your distress all the way from the cargo bay.”

A man. Cargo bay. Sensing your distress. A Berserker? A Siren? Seonghwa? Not possible, he wasn’t anywhere near the cargo bay.

“It’s okay; you can calm yourself some. Just rest for now.” His tone is so gentle and warm. He could put you to sleep just like this, and it only takes one more sentence for him to do so. “I’ll bring you to Healer.” Your body falls completely limp in his grasp and darkness takes over you, a pleasant sense of calm rushing to greet you as you slip into unconsciousness.

…

The walled prison has returned stronger than before. The road remains bumpy and rocky as you ride along in the darkness, the same child still sitting a foot away from you with her knees tucked close to her chest. You eye her form with a sense of wariness; her nonsensical mutterings haven’t ceased. In fact, they’ve only increased in both volume and quantity no matter how obvious you try to be about ignoring her.

“Lasu kan tan wogo? Cezi, lasu kan tan wogo?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter as a new word comes into her sentences.

“Hosun gatu lu!”

“I don’t know what you’re saying. I’m sorry, I-I can’t help you.”

“Lasu kan tan wogo?” Her ceaseless mutterings return, and you let her voice fade into the background as you look around the cell. You don’t know how long things carry on like that, with noisy chains and neighing horses drowning out the foreign words. When the prison comes to a halt at long last, you don’t know what to expect next. Ahead of you, a door bursts open to reveal several cloaked figures shrouded by the moonlight. One reaches forward and grabs hold of your chains, jerking you roughly. You blink against the harsh light filtering in behind them, unable to defend yourself as the person pulls you out of the cage.

More cages just like your own fill your vision. They are all around you, filling the rocky and flat terrain like they belong there, all containing people of all ages in chains like yourself. Another figure tugs your companion out of the prison, and her voice grows in volume as she continues to repeat her question over and over. No one answers her.

You don’t know what comes over you – perhaps a surge of panic and fear – but you yank against your captor’s grip with as much force as you can manage.

“H-Help! Someone – someone help!” You cry out, voice croaking like a frog, and your throat burns from the effort. One of the chained prisoners in front of you turns at the sound of your voice. Dark charcoal hair flutters in the still air as he whips around to face you, eyes wide and curious as they land on you. All the air leaves your lungs. Your heart constricts painfully in your chest, and you choke on nothing as his face comes into focus.

Wooyoung.

A cloaked man steps in front of you and effectively blocks your line of sight before you can examine the sight further.

Wooyoung.

A searing pain blossoms over your cheek, and it takes a moment for you to process that the person has just punched you.

Wooyoung.

Another blow comes down on your head. You feel your body go down before your mind catches up, and you enter a harsh freefall. Your chains clatter as you tumble to the ground.

“Y/N!”

“Wooyoung!” You jolt awake, chest heaving as you gasp in deep breaths of air. There’s only one person in the room with you when you wake up, and you don’t need to see him to know who it is thanks to the shrill yelp he releases upon hearing your outburst. He slips backwards and falls off the stool he was sitting on, ass hitting the floor roughly. Ironically enough, it’s Wooyoung who now sits on the floor with wide and curious eyes.

“Holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me!” He exclaims, lips folding into a soft pout. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be though. You haven’t even been resting for that long.”

You glance around the room, taking in the white walls of the medbay, and your gaze shifts to the bed where San had been earlier. It’s empty now, made in such a way that makes it look like no one was ever there to begin with.

“S-San? Where is he?” You stammer as Wooyoung pulls himself back to his feet.

“He woke up not too long ago and went straight to the bridge to talk to Hongjoong.” Wooyoung brushes his hands over his thighs, rubbing the fabric of his pants until it’s clean of dirt. When he sits back on the stool, he folds one leg under him and peers at you with a skeptical gaze. “Why’d you say my name when you woke up?”

“I…” How are you supposed to explain your dream when you don’t understand it yourself? The strange language, the weird scenery, Wooyoung – you aren’t sure where to even start with it. “Di-Did – I, um, have a question. Did w-we know each other at one point?”

Wooyoung’s frown deepens. He leans back a bit, eyes scanning your expression for any sign of humor or sarcasm there.

“Did you hit your head or something?”

“No, no, just – did we know each other at one point?”

“Um… before you came to the ship, I had never seen you or known who you were. I only heard about you through word of mouth and bounties. Why do you ask?”

“I had t-this dream, and you were in it. In chains and a collar like the one you have now, but… but I was too? I don’t know what it means.”

“It was just a dream, Y/N,” Wooyoung says. He shakes his head a bit, bangs shifting on his forehead, and the image of him whipping around to face you in that misty landscape returns.

“It felt real. It didn’t feel like a dream – more like a memory.”

“I really didn’t know you before you came to the ship, Y/N. I don’t know what you think – who you think I am, but… I don’t know. Maybe you heard me and Yunho talking while you were asleep? And that’s why I showed up in your dream?”

That is debatable at best, but you opt not to voice your doubts.

“Where is Yunho anyway?”

“Ah, he didn’t want to be here when you woke up. Thought you wouldn’t want to see him.”

“It’s probably the opposite actually,” you huff.

“Yeah, I – Yunho told me what happened,” Wooyoung explains. He tilts his head from side to side as he ponders his next words then slides his stool forward so that he can prop his elbows on the bed. “You know Yeosang and I have spent a lot of time together. Lots of years at each other’s side and lots of time in each other’s space. We’ve said a lot of things that were harsh. We’ve been cruel to one another with our words and what we say. Been hurtful and mean and torn each other apart. Not because we don’t care – quite the opposite really. Sometimes our fear overshadows how we feel about one another. Misunderstandings happen, tempers flare, people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. But that doesn’t mean that it should or will ruin your relationship with them. Hell, Yeosang is an Elitist. He barely shows an ounce of emotion most of the time, and I struggle with that because I just have to take his word for his feelings. I don’t get the pleasure of seeing how much he cares about me all the time because he can’t always show it. We’ve struggled with that together and individually, but we never let it destroy us.”

“You and Yeosang must really love each other if you’re so confident about that.” Wooyoung offers a weak smile in response to your words, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes.

“We do…”

“Why don’t you sound certain then?”

“I love him, and he loves me. That’s it. It can’t go anywhere, and we don’t put a label on anything because we simply can’t.” Wooyoung stops himself from saying anything else, and his gaze drops to the mattress.

“Why not?” You don’t get an answer straight away, although that isn’t Wooyoung’s fault.

“Crew to the bridge.” It’s Seonghwa’s voice, as even and steady as ever, and both you and Wooyoung glance up to the speaker in the corner of the room. Wooyoung doesn’t move a muscle, however, and he continues to stare at you with an unchanging expression before he answers your question.

“We went to a fortune teller once – just the two of us before we even joined the crew or knew anything about pirates. To see my future, not Yeosang’s, but… when the woman looked into my future, Yeosang wasn’t in the picture. She said that we were not meant to be in each other’s lives. Our meeting was a mistake, and it was not what fate had planned for us. And as such, any attempts we made to stay close to each other would inevitably end in flames. All because the stars didn’t align for us.” Wooyoung laughs weakly before he glances back up to your face.

“Do you truly believe it?” You inquire in a quieter tone, matching Wooyoung’s solemn expression. The man heaves a deep sigh. A smile stretches his lips but it isn’t kind or humorous in the slightest, merely painful. That thought you had of seeing how much pain Wooyoung would be in when speaking of Yeosang suddenly comes to life before your eyes, and it is far worse than you imagined it would be.

“Every time I kiss him, it feels like someone is digging a hole in my chest and prying my ribcage open so they can carve my heart out. Does that sound like fate to you?” Wooyoung pulls himself up and sits straight as a board. “I don’t care for fate or destiny. I would rather it not exist, but I can’t deny the feeling that I get in my chest in those moments of intimacy. In a perfect world, I would get to call him mine without worrying about what fate has planned for us. But this? This is far from a perfect world.”

Whatever words you thought to say die on your tongue in the face of Wooyoung’s dismal explanation.

“Crew to the bridge,” Seonghwa repeats, sounding a tad more exasperated this time around.

“Come on, let’s get up there before we make them mad. You’ll be okay to walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a nod, letting Wooyoung pull you to your feet. “Who was it who brought me in here anyway? I think I passed out before I saw.”

“Mingi!” Wooyoung beams, and his smile stretches so wide that his nose scrunched up and his cheeks shine. “I stepped out of my room right as he was walking by with you, and he told me that he found you having a panic attack in the hallway.”

“All possible treatments over the past six years have failed. The progress we’ve made is minimal at best but Mingi is still in pain.”

“It’s amazing, honestly. A few years ago, he probably would have killed you to put you out of your misery had he found you. But now – now he knows how important saving people is to Yunho, and he understands it even if he doesn’t agree with it.”

“And every time I look at Mingi, I see a reflection of my failures. Forgive me for doing things that will take away that reflection.”

It is clear to you in that moment that somewhere along the way, Yunho got things twisted. He viewed progress and growth in terms of the amount of pain a person was in, not the shifts in their decisions and opinions. And surely there are reasons for that – perhaps that story Hongjoong mentioned of how Mingi killed Yunho’s lover affected things in some way – but you cannot shake the feeling that it runs deeper than that. The boy who grew up too fast thanks to his profession as a healer is all too similar to the one who was robbed of his childhood to be a killer.

You and Wooyoung are the last to reach the bridge. The crew is spread out more awkwardly than the last time you all were here together: San and Yunho linger off to the side with flat expressions while Mingi and Jongho stand closer together, and Yeosang stands near the captain’s chair, keeping his hands folded neatly behind his back. Seonghwa is on the opposite side of the chair, and he bears a similar stance to Yeosang except he rests a hand on the back of Hongjoong’s chair. It’s close enough to brush over the man’s shoulder, but Seonghwa opts not to and keeps the distance he has currently. You try not to let your thoughts wander back to your exchange with Yunho. He glances up at you when you step onto the bridge though, and the neutrality in his visage crumbles into regret and guilt the moment you lock eyes. Wooyoung has to nudge your arm to get you to continue moving.

“Right, now that we’re all here…” Hongjoong clears his throat and sends a pointed look toward you and Wooyoung that has you both mumbling quiet apologies. “And now that Jongho and Mingi have had time to speak one on one, we need to come to a decision about this whole ordeal prior to leaving tomorrow morning. After no shortage of discussions with the lieutenant, we at last reached an agreement to allow the choice to be Mingi’s and Mingi’s alone.”

Wooyoung’s hand darts out to grab yours, and you’re just as caught off-guard as he is. While he releases an audible gasp, your lips part in a silent one that has you looking over at Seonghwa to gauge his expression. Despite the exhaustion, you find a certain degree of relief there along with a faint smile that blooms when he blinks down at Hongjoong’s head.

“And I believe you’ve explained everything to him, Jongho?”

“I have. As promised, no biases.”

Hongjoong nods only once then turns to Mingi. He stretches a hand out, fingers unfurling to reveal two vials of blue liquid in his palm.

“What would you have me do, Captain?” Mingi inquires the moment Hongjoong reaches forward. For a moment, you think Hongjoong will answer that question truthfully. However, all he does is offer a tight smile.

“I would have you decide what’s best for yourself.”

The tension throughout the room is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand increases with each second that passes in silence. Anxiety still bubbles in your gut despite the fact that you got what you wanted. You wanted this for Mingi, you were so desperate for it, but you can’t keep yourself from wondering if it will all go to waste when Mingi makes the choice.

“I… don’t like being in pain,” Mingi starts. Hongjoong’s jaw shifts and his hand wavers, but he manages a steady nod. “And I do wonder what it would be like if I took the serum but… at the same time, I have memories I do not want to let go of. All that’s left of my father are my memories of him. Even if I should despise him for the choices he made, I would not like to forget those things. I have many regrets and have made many mistakes as well but – those are not things I would like to forget. I need them to learn more and better understand why they are mistakes and why I regret them. But I can’t pretend not to know that you would rather me put it behind me and move forward without having that hold me back.”

“I wou–I will not share my bias,” Hongjoong says, lips pressed tight together.

“Even if you did, my decision would remain the same. I don’t want it. Captain, I – Hongjoong, I would rather they be destroyed.”

Hongjoong’s face falls so flat that it terrifies you. You cannot read his next move, whether he’s angry or relieved, any of the thoughts running through his mind are lost on you in his stillness. There are signs of relief on San’s face, as well as Seonghwa’s and Jongho’s, which you expected from them. Yeosang seems to be thinking of something else, and based on Wooyoung’s wavering hold on your hand, he is grateful to hear Mingi’s decision as well. Yunho won’t look up from the floor.

Hongjoong stands up slowly then steps down from the chair to be face to face with Mingi. The Berserker towers over him, but when Hongjoong looks up at the man’s face, you see zero intimidation or fear in either one of them. He lifts one of Mingi’s hands and pushes the two vials into his palm, closing his fingers around Mingi’s.

“However you see fit to destroy them, I would only ask that you be the one to do it.” Hongjoong pulls away from Mingi after that and returns to the captain’s chair to sit back down. “Lieutenant Park constructed the plans for if this was Mingi’s decision, so… he will provide the details himself.”

Seonghwa pulls his arm off the back of Hongjoong’s chair to stand up straighter, nodding to the captain before speaking himself.

“The planet is home to many bunkers thanks to the asteroids circling the planet. In the event that these asteroids fall into the atmosphere and collide with the planet, the inhabitants are to use these bunkers as safe havens to protect themselves from harm. Over time, many bandit crews have taken to claiming bunkers for their own, including our allies in the Bloodletter Crew. I exchanged a call with them last night to discuss the usage of one of these bunkers, and we came to an agreement about allowing Mingi to reside in one of their bunkers for as long as we are out on this mission. It will prevent him from having to go see Vladimir with us, but also protect him from Vladimir’s men circling the ship while we’re gone. They will also take some of the cargo off our hands as that was the price they named for this exchange. A bit of lost money in the long run, but well worth it for the safety of the crew. The bunker they’re providing is not far from our destination, so San and Jongho will accompany Mingi to the bunker and reconvene with the rest of us outside. From there, we conduct the mission as discussed. San and Jongho will take left-wing while Yunho, Wooyoung, and Y/N maintain the right. Yeosang and I will accompany Hongjoong to meet with Vladimir. The wing teams are merely there to watch for any tricks Vladimir might have up his sleeve. He is not beyond assassination attempts in plain sight, so all of you need to be as alert as possible.”

“Is that all?” Hongjoong asks, glancing up at the lieutenant.

“Yes, Captain, everything as we discussed.”

“Very well then, I would advise you all to go and rest now. It’ll be an early morning and a long day tomorrow. And Jongho, if you please stay a moment so we can talk in private. Mingi as well, if you would.”

“Okay, can we have a celebration dinner right now, please! If Jongho is gonna be a while that means he doesn’t get to cook!” Wooyoung exclaims as he tugs his hand away from yours. “Seonghwa, please give us a decent meal for once, I am not too ashamed to beg for it.” The lieutenant snorts and rolls his eyes but steps down from where he’s standing nonetheless.

“Unlike Yeosang, I would not like to hear you beg for anything. I’ll still treat you all either way though.”

Wooyoung sputters at Seonghwa’s comment, cheeks flushing a bright red in seconds, and you can’t keep from smiling at the small exchange. San moves with Seonghwa when the man steps forward, and Wooyoung returns to grab your hand before trying to drag you from the bridge in his excitement. Jongho stays behind as asked, and Mingi lingers at his side as asked. Yeosang is the last to move, waiting for Yunho to catch up before falling into step with him. You are about to bring your chin forward to focus on making sure that Wooyoung doesn’t guide you into a wall, but something happens to keep you from doing so.

It is as discreet as possible, but you catch sight of the exchange nonetheless. As you do, your breath hitches in your throat and you forget how to function for a moment. It's the flash of blue that passes from Yeosang's hand to Yunho's, slipping under sleeves with haste so that no one sees it, and the hushed whispers Yeosang hurries to send in the healer's direction. You don't know what they're talking about, but there is a growing hunch that it has nothing to do with Mingi or Hongjoong. Yeosang would not be this secretive if that was the case; no, this is something quite different, something outside of the current situation entirely, and that scares you more than anything else.

✧✧✧ a/n: lmfAO 12K?!? bITCH HOW!!! okay but anyway i honestly forgot what to do with myself it feels like it’s been years since an update and i was so anxious to get this one out and it ended up being !!! 12 fucking k!!!! what the hell!!! crazy stuff fr oml i hope you enjoy seriously, this one was a joy to write and i enjoyed it so much so i hope that translates and you enjoy as well!!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @takitaro @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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leviiattacks · 4 years

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Two Faced | Chapter Five

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc word count :: 3k author note :: just got diagnosed with covid so i have a lot of spare time on my hands so ummm send in any requests you have into my ask box i’d love to try doing headcanons!! → next part is here!!

Erwin sees the confused look you have and now he too seems lost as he shifts his line of vision to Levi. At that moment your husband slams his heel and grinds it onto your foot. Squirming around in your seat dealing with the stinging pain you catch on that you can't let Erwin think you're clueless.

Quickly, the look of confusion washes away from your features and you return his smile. "I'm willing to do what I must."

You think you've ruined this entirely because Erwin's eyes dart suspiciously between you and your husband. However, Hange intervenes, the interference seems to be enough for him to shake off any skepticism he senses.

Two hands hold onto your frame and squeeze your shoulders. Hange is standing up and seems ecstatic."You two are just so evil." they cackle to themself and you play along laughing too. You are not giving Levi the opportunity to ram into your foot again. Hange who is practically a personified ray of Sunshine at all times does still seem a little down, you did pick up on it when you entered the room. Maybe it was just you overthinking, that's what you assure yourself with.

Then it settles in your bones. Evil? Blinking you turn to look at Levi hoping for some sort of indication about whatever is going on.

"She wouldn't listen to me at all, said she felt the need to step in and help the Empire in some way." His tone is monotonous, still not sparing you a glance and you want to kick him in the shins. He's usually much more affectionate and you're afraid Squad Leader Hange and Commander Erwin will figure out this is all a facade.

"It's a noble commitment to put yourself forward for such a risky position, I see why you and Lance Corporal Levi are a sound match." Erwin isn't smiling this time but his tone is content.

Mind now buzzing with ideas you want to fall face first into the carpeted floor of the office spread out like a starfish. You would prefer that instead of being left in the dark. Could they simply mention the name of whatever it is you've apparently offered to do?

Levi's clearly grimaces but then he moves to hold your hand rather boldly. Shaking him off isn't an available option because of his strong grip. "She wouldn't listen to me at all. If I had it my way she wouldn't step anywhere near enemy soil." He grumbles.

The fake concern he's trying to lace in his voice is having an effect on his two colleagues, they're eating it up and believe this act.

Enemy soil? Risky position? He has to be stealthily plotting your death because you see no other reason for why you would be sent off to venture anywhere near the enemy. You aren't even apart of their regime, or any regime for that matter, you're itching with nervousness and want to free your hand from his desperately.

The only emotion this man is good at feigning is straight boredom, he ignores the way your hand shakes and squirms, ignores how your palms are dampening with sweat, instead the way he holds onto you only strengthens. It's surprising that no one has said a word about the lack of chemistry between the two of you.

Suddenly Hange looks down at their pocket watch and hurriedly gets to their feet dragging Erwin up with them too. "Y/N, I have something to tell you later on, please do stop by HQ when you can, I expect that will be soon." They then tell Erwin that there's no time to loiter and that there are more important meetings to attend to.

Erwin leans into your ear and whispers. "He seems disturbed that you're putting yourself at risk. He means well." You wish that were the case but it isn't. Despite that the way Erwin tries to explain Levi's behavior is sweet.

Hange gives you a cute thumbs up but makes it a point that you need to speak later on, even as they're both walking out the door Hange keeps reminding you to meet up later on. The abnormal behavior between you and Levi may have been noticed but you know if that were the case Hange would have been more vocal about it.

"Combat classes start soon. We know this will all be difficult, building you up from scratch is hazardous but all in good time you will serve a key role in the liberation of Paradis."

Erwin's parting words are gracious.

And then both the Commander and Squad Leader leave, the room is empty but Levi doesn't even wait for the door to shut behind your two visitors.

He makes it a priority to throw your hand away from his, he's now methodically using his handkerchief to dust his fingers off. It's oddly ironic and enrages you because he's the one who grappled your hand into his grasp. What's the point when those same hands until recently looped around your waist in the middle of the night?

He thinks your hand is filthy, that you yourself are filthy and disgusting. At least that's what you think he thinks.

Crossing your arms over your chest you make your feelings known to Levi. You're frustrated beyond the way words can describe, it's not about how he refuses to touch you. Admittedly that does hurt you, makes your chest swell in remembrance of the old days but you really just want to know what he's put you up to without your permission.

Not speaking you wait for him to take the hint but he doesn't get it or he refuses to acknowledge your existence, something tells you it's the latter because all he cares about is sanitizing his hands.

He always had been a clean freak but when he was enchanted it didn't take much for him to touch you. Part of you wonders if it's the nature of the touch that he wants to exterminate or the fact it's your skin he's come in contact with which is bothering him.

"Care to explain?"

"Touching someone such as yourself romantically gives me the urge to retch." The confession is as acidic as the after taste one has after a late night of drinking, but he has no problem telling you the blunt truth.

"I see." You shortly reply, you weren't asking about that, your question was directed more towards the conversation which just took place with his colleagues but now knowing he doesn't want to touch you has an emptying effect on your chest.

A silent minute passes, maybe two minutes, you're not sure all you're doing is eyeing the carpet thinking about how you would like to be asphyxiated and brought to your end, you can't handle this for much longer.

"Sign these papers, we need your written consent." His voice shows no hints hints of Lev. Last night may have been the last time you had a chance to witness him.

A stack of documents is thrown in front of you and then you see it right at the top of the pile. A sheet filled with general information, eyes skim over the "Purpose of employment" section and you don't know what churns in your stomach. Is it Exasperation? Nerves? Grief? It can't be pinpointed, it could be a mix of all three.

"An Informant."

Rereading the title you hold the paper in disbelief between your palms. "You told your regiment that I would be willing to spy in on enemy kingdoms?"

His hands rub at his forehead, he's not perturbed at all. "Is it in your blood to be ungrateful?" Brutally cynical his tone is rocky.

He moves - not even towards you but for some reason you flinch stopping him in his tracks almost immediately. Narrow ice cold eyes trace your face carefully for any signs of manipulation or deception. Gulping anxiously you know you have to be careful with what you say or do. Getting too comfortable or casual around him is a risk you are not willing to take.

"I don't think you understand. I do not have the abilities nor the skill to do this. I would cause more issues." You cautiously move to grab his arm but before you get there he takes a wide step back. He's clearly defining that there's a boundary. You won't step into his territory not when you've already invaded a large portion of it for so long.

"I am no witch. I still don't understand what happened." You mutter hoping he believes you or at least tries to.

"Then die." Levi hisses. He fixes you with his poisonous stare. "Make it quick."

Curse yourself to a life with this man who every step of the way is hoping for your death - maybe he'll even push you towards it purposefully one day. The alternative choice available is to die by the hands of that same man right now.

Guilt and regret are what you feel, you can't look death in the eye proudly. Not right now. If you can't commit to the promise you made mother then there is truly no point in making your way to the afterlife.

Cowardice is not the cause of death you want to present her with.

With a heavy heart you sign the papers.

It's been a few days since then, you've received training from some of Levi's squad, at first the combat is nerve wracking but you get to a level where you feel comfortable in terms of defense.

Oluo is slow, you've picked up on the way his stance predicts every move he's about to make. You're thankful for that because it makes training easier, he's oblivious to just how easy it is to read his movements and you snigger at that. Today he's trying a new technique, it consists of attempting to dive in the direction of one of your shoulders and suddenly darting at the other. It catches you off guard for a second but it's simple to block him. Jumping back from another surprise attack you lunge forward as if you're aiming for his face. He lights up thinking this is his chance unbeknownst to him you've already seen the open opportunity you've been waiting for. You can change the wager in this brawl. Swiftly ducking you undercut him with one of your legs, his balance has been knocked and he stumbles teetering by a thread.

A solid kick to his stomach is all it takes for him to collapse to the ground grumbling in vexation.

Mikasa has been helping you with one on one combat and the extra hours of training behind the stables has clearly been of benefit.

Thinking back to your training sessions with Mikasa you frown, not because of the way she flipped you and shoved you into the dirt, no that part was quite exhilarating. It's Sasha. She's been on your mind. She has to be feeling left out, that's your fault you've kept her in the dark about joining the regime, how could you attend training with her? Your maid waiting on you whilst you were training? Impossible.

The last problem you wish to arise is everyone finding out you're Duchess Ackerman. No one has to know about that minor detail, in fact when you informed Hange and Erwin of your decision they strongly agreed it would be best to hide it.

"I think we should get you strapped into some gear. See how good you really are in the dexterity department." Oluo is spitefully mumbling under his breath red faced.

Offering him your hand he looks like he wants to smack it away, You don't have time for this, you were planning on dropping by and paying Hange their more than overdue visit after training hours were up.

ODM-gear doesn't look too hard, you're sure you can work out the mechanisms if given some time. Calculating and shifting time blocks in your head you can come to an end at Six, if and only if you're able to rush past ODM training.

"Okay, I admit you were tired today I could tell. I'll strap myself into some gear."

At this new new challenge Oluo willingly takes your hand and you heave him up.

He's got a cocky shit-eating grin sprawled across his face as he pats your back enthusiastically.

"Good luck, you're in for one hell of a ride."

Three dimensional ODM-gear, a contraption that is very different to a sword or dagger. Most soldiers find it difficult to master the balancing of all their body weight whilst simultaneously gliding through the air with the grapple hooks. This is why introductory lessons in balance, momentum and effective weight distribution are a must.

It's been instructed that you won't be using ODM-gear nearly as much as other members of the regiment, you're training to become a spy after all and ODM-gear is very obviously visible when a person is strapped into their uniform. Nevertheless it's still a requirement to be able to use it. It's a hurdle because it's not your forte by any means but you can't continue avoiding it.

When living as the Duchess you deemed it pivotal to only interact with a limited number of Levi's colleagues, those who worked at the estate couldn't be avoided such as Mikasa but apart from that Hange was the only outsider you spoke to (Before Erwin had come along). You don't know if you regret that decision because it's definitely why everyone is cackling as you thrash around, they have no idea he has a wife and if they do they show no inclination of knowing you are that woman.

Sniggers can be heard as you struggle to center your strength fully, your instructor bellows at you. "No, come on. STOP FLAILING AROUND!" Particles of his saliva fly in your face and that only feeds into your embarrassment. Paralyzed you don't know what to do, he tells you to not move around then the next minute barks at you to not give up, repeats that you have the agility level equivalent of a sick child.

You've been stuck in this upside down position for more time than you can imagine, at some point a large majority of the scouts including Oluo double down in laughter whenever you make a mistake - they berate you when you are trying your best.

Legs kicking out you're panicking and want to escape the harness you're in.

Oluo was right, nothing could prepare you for this.

Mikasa when she isn't busy assisting Levi is a part of the regime too, that's why she's grinding her teeth this morning when she walks into the training grounds and sees the whole scene play out right before her eyes.

She wants to desperately step in and stop this because you being forced into ODM training without having your core strength developed is unfair.

Then a yell is heard from the crowd "GO Y/N!! LISTEN TO ME ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS KEEP CALM!" Both you and Mikasa turn to see Sasha standing next to her.

Sasha? Mikasa knows very well how you forbade her to follow you today, you gave her the day off to visit her family.

"I thought Y/N warned yo-"

"I am dedicated in my service to the Lady, if she chooses to do this I will be by her side to support her. She does not have to feel embarrassed."

Members of the corps are eyeing her weirdly when she says "Lady" she doesn't know you're keeping your identity secret, that was the reason for giving her time away, you were afraid she'd slip up and expose you but simply hearing Sasha proudly announce her commitment for you in front of all these people knocks the wind right out of your chest. You've never felt this much importance before.

Sasha's motivation is all you need because by a miraculous turn of events you manage to steady your breathing pattern and find it within yourself to focus on your core. Wobbling shakily the transition is far from smooth but you flip yourself right side up, the muscles in your calf ache and throb with pain but you've done it.

Grinning from ear to ear at your two friends you feel light-headed with relief.

"Took her long enough." Levi sneers. He's made his way to the front of the crowd, you wonder when he got here. Beaming at him you think your presentation might be enough to discourage his usual response. You're incorrect.

"She's a shame to this squad, there is no need in motivating someone of her rank." Shallow breaths puffing out of you it comes to your attention that he's addressing Sasha.

She ignores what he has to say about you and stays silent, any normal person would have their head hanging down in shame but she looks into his eyes with a determination that takes your breath away.

He pays her no mind after that and turns back to where you're still struggling to keep steady. "Don't think you're hot shit." Your bottom teeth dig into your lip, and your throat suddenly clamps down on you restricting your breath. "She's no good at combat, no good at using her gear. Do you only excel at spreading lies, Cadet?" The way he's now completely indignant in the way he speaks stings. He doesn't even bother to sound normal in front of Mikasa or Sasha anymore, it makes you manually hollow your cheeks trying to keep your tears at bay.

Lies, you know what he's referencing. You want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw him to the muddy ground. That's what he deserves for prodding and poking at your vulnerabilities.

He doesn't understand the degree at which all these sudden changes are affecting you, in his eyes this is light work and shouldn't impact you at all, that's why when you feel a muscle contraction and reel backwards, rapidly falling back into that cursed upside down position. He scoffs, doesn't even move to check if you're okay.

Whispers circle around you and even some of the cadets who participated in ridiculing you step forward to take you out of your harness. However, Sasha and Mikasa get there first and shoot them with their intense glares, the both of them work on hoisting you out of your gear.

Levi takes one last look at you before he storms away convinced you're faking, what else would a runt like you do to escape the situation?

In his mind you lost your momentum and your ship capsized because of your own self sabotage.

Little does he know all that has truly lost momentum is the inner-workings of your heart and that is all thanks to him.

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