#its like getting a rec from a friend with the BEST tastes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

Text

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 - yang jeongin x gn!fem reader, lee minho x gn!fem reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: sex with no strings attached between mc & jeongin, some boy x boy action, established relationship between mc & minho, smut mdni

synopsis: you and your favourite boy have planned to take apart the youngest member of the frat - but the question is, what has developed along the way? your hot bitch summer has a high chance of being fully successful, albeit with some new feelings.

a/n: THE LAST PART OF HOT BITCH SUMMER OH YEAH WOO YEAH EVERYONE ENJOY! smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: boy x boy action, threesome, dirty talk, sub jeongin then possibly a bit dom jeongin, jeongin's a virgin, loss of virginity, corruption kink if you squint, mc has a wap, oral (m rec), cumswapping if you squint, creampies, unprotected sex, sex with no strings attached

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were alarmed.

Minho had invited you over, claiming he had ‘something you needed to see’, and when you asked if it was his dick, he said no. For the short journey to the frat house, you couldn’t help but contemplate what it was. Why was it urgent, too? You’d asked if you could just go tomorrow, but he wasn’t having any of it, claiming it needed to be done today.

You opened the door when you got there, sniffing at the prevalent smell of weed. Of course, Jisung was perched on the couch cuddled up to Felix with his hand in a bag of crisps.

“Oh, hey,” He said, cheeks red. “He’s upstairs.”

You nodded, feeling slightly miffed that your best friends were getting high without you. It was whatever, really - guaranteed they’d be knocking on Minho’s bedroom door in an hour to invite you. When you entered Minho’s room, he was sitting at his desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper.

“You’re here!” He spun on his chair, giggling. Okay, now you’re even more alarmed. What is he so excited for? You didn’t think you’d ever seen Minho this excited.

“Minho, I’m currently terrified,” You said, feet planted firmly on the floor. He just smiled again, bunny teeth showing and hopped up from his chair like he really was a bunny. Before you could say something else, interrogate him even, he was dragging you to the upstairs hallway.

You watched in shock as he grabbed a ladder, positioning it underneath the small hatch in the ceiling.

“Minho, do I dare ask why you’re taking me into the attic?”

“It’s a surprise,” He huffed, the typical scornful look back on his face. “The surprise is in the attic.”

“Are you going to take me up here and kill me? I’d rather know beforehand, y’know, so I could prepare-“

“Honey, if I was going to kill you, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” He replied. Quick as a flash, the smile was back on his face, and he was creeping up the ladder to push the hatch open. You sighed as he pulled himself up and into the attic, and then he was poking his head over. All you saw were two dark eyes and a mess of dark hair, and you grinned. He was so cute. “Are you going to come up or just stand there?”

You scoffed, and then followed his steps, climbing up the ladder. Minho pulled a cord from the slanted roof once you were up there, and then you were gobsmacked.

Fairy lights were strung up around the room, adorning a sun and moon tapestry on the wall. There was a bed pushed against one of the walls, looking newly-built and never slept in with cozy light pink bed sheets on. Most importantly, a little bunny teddy sat in the middle of the bed, looking up at you with its beady eyes.It wasn’t a big bedroom, but it had clearly been renovated for some reason or other, and somehow decorated exactly to your taste.

“Minho-“

“Ssh, let me speak,” Minho came behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. You hummed, holding onto his wrists. You could feel the soft fabric of his dark green hoodie against your back. “You’re over here all the time anyway, right? I thought you may as well have your own space, should you ever need it. Like, if we argue or something.”

“This is for me…?” You asked, in a meek voice. You guessed as much anyway, but you needed it confirmed. Minho nodded against your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

“Of course,” He replied. Then, he shifted from behind you and coughed, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him, seeing the tips of his ears burning crimson and his eyes averted to the wall. “I mean, I just threw it together really quickly. We can redecorate if you don’t like it, or-“

“Minho,” You cut him off, kissing his nose. He scrunched it up, swatting you away playfully. “It’s perfect. I just feel so bad, you’ve done all of this for me when I spend most of my time here in your bed anyway.”

Minho chuckled. He pulled you over to the bed and you sat on the edge with him, giggling as he grabbed the bunny teddy and placed it in your lap. “It’s for if you ever need time alone, like I said. I know how nice it is to have a space to call your own, honey.”

Since fucking Chan in his car, one thing had been on your mind. You’d said you were close to Minho, and that had been how you’d put it. Now… seeing what he’d done for you, the bunny teddy included - it just looked so much like him - you needed to ask. So be it if it ruins the friendship - you’d harboured the feelings a bit too long to deny it. He’d been the one to start it all, kickstarting the crazy time you’d had in the frat and he’d been by your side all the way through it.

After all, all you’d really wanted was him.

“Min,” You began, emboldened by the sweet thing he’d done. Redecorating a whole attic must have been hard. “I… what are we, Minho? I kind of just need you to be upfront with me at this point.”

A beat passed, with no words spoken between the two of you. Your hands remained clutched around the bunny. Minho took a sharp inhale of breath. Then, he was laughing the type of full body laugh you’d only seen him do a few times. He threw himself on the bed, thrashing around in his laughter, and you swatted him.

“Don’t laugh at me-!” You squeaked, pouting.

“No, no, I’m sorry, honey,” He pulled you into him, chest still shaking. “It’s just really funny. I mean, I thought we were together this whole time.”

You blinked. Together? “But… I’ve been fucking your friends.”

“You’re the only one I’d trust to fuck all of my friends, dummy,” He said, kissing your forehead. “Also, God knows I get off on it massively. You know it’s a kink for me, my partner fucking my boys. It’s hot as fuck smelling them on you.”

“Oh,” You said, intelligently. Minho chuckled again, brushing your hair out of your face when you looked up at him. “So, we’re together.”

“I think we have been, haven’t we?” He murmured, eyes gazing directly into yours. It made sense, so you nodded. You’d just been extremely fucking dumb. What was new? You suddenly noticed your surroundings, though.

“Minho,” You began, and he hummed in response. “We’re on a bed.”

He blinked, and then he was smirking. “Yeah. That we are, huh?”

You licked your lips. “It’s a new bed.”

“Yup.”

“Let’s christen it.”

Minho practically pounced on you. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were in that exact room a week later, flicking through one of the romance novels Seungmin had recommended when you saw a head burst through the hatch. Unsurprisingly, it was your boyfriend. Minho fell onto the floor as soon as he came through.

“He said yes,” He breathed, panting heavily. You raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you panting so fucking hard?”

“I pulled myself up here without a ladder,” Minho explained, wiping his forehead. “I got too excited because he said yes. He’s pretty damn excited about it, too.”

You raised an eyebrow, bookmarking your page and shutting your book. Seungmin would murder you if you dog-eared his precious book. “Sorry, Min, what are we talking about again?”

Minho shot up, glaring at you. “Um, Jeongin? Obviously.”

You gasped. Jeongin had said yes? You were going to complete your hot bitch summer, and it would end in taking a virginity. But… was Jeongin seriously comfortable with it?

“Is he… is he sure?” You asked, uncertain. To some people, losing their virginity is a serious thing. Jeongin may be one of those people.

Minho scoffed. “He’s been hard ever since you started fucking around. He’s been waiting, honey. I mean, I think he would have rather been involved with the orgy we had, but…”

“Oh, fuck. We totally should’ve invited him,” You gushed. Minho nodded, shrugging. He was still on the floor. “Anyway, he wants you to be there?”

Minho nodded. “He’s pretty excited about that, too.”

Picturing the two men together, you couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so when? When does he wanna do it? Like, tonight?"

Minho shoved your shoulder gently, shaking his head at you. "He's not the only one who's excited, hm?"

"I'm not gonna pretend to not be excited, Min. We get to fuck a virgin together! I know you're fucking thrilled too, don't act so nonchalant."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "Anyways, tonight works for him, if you're up to it. Well, as soon as possible, really. You wanna make him wait for it?"

You considered this briefly. "I don't know if I can even make myself wait for it. I wanna shower first, though."

"Sure, go get ready." Minho began to head down the ladder.

"Don't you dare start without me!" You yelled down at him.

"Jesus, Y/N, some of us can keep it in our pants for twenty minutes," You heard him mutter snarkily as he descended.

The whole shower you were excited. It was hard to keep from slipping on the tiled floor as you rushed around, shaving and moisturising specifically to rock Jeongin’s world. You had to make his loss of virginity an amazing experience.

Arriving at Minho’s room in your towel, you opened the door and were met with a delectable sight. As the door opened, Jeongin sprung apart from your boyfriend with blushing cheeks and wide eyes. He looked flustered, caught in the act by you, and Minho sat nonchalantly.

You pouted, clutching onto your towel. Your hair dripped wet droplets from your shower down onto your chest, and Jeongin’s eyes followed the journey. “I told you not to start without me, Min. You said you could keep it in-“

“Couldn’t help myself,” Minho replied, shrugging. “He’s a good kisser. Also, nothing’s escaped my pants.”

You tilted your head to the side, sizing up Jeongin. He was cute, annoyingly so in his joggers and loose t-shirt, and he was pitching a sizable tent. You had to know what you were dealing with - a full on virgin, or had he done a little something before?

“Innie?” You mused, and he stared at you owlishly. “Have you seen a pussy before, baby?”

He shook his head. “Never. I really want to, though.”

“I bet you do,” Minho hummed, pulling Jeongin over to sit between his legs. You watched in awe as Minho kissed up the column of Jeongin’s throat, making Jeongin bare his neck in acceptance. His eyes were soft when he looked at you, but you could see something beneath them - something wanting, needing. Minho nipped at Jeongin’s earlobe, and then he spoke again. “Why don’t you drop the towel, kitty?”

You smiled, reaching up to undo the knot in the plush white towel. It fell to the floor in a heap, just in front of your feet and in between the two boys perched on Minho’s bed. Jeongin’s jaw dropped.

“C’mere, kitty,” Minho murmured, and you raised an eyebrow. “Come lay on the bed and let me show Innie how to play with a pussy.”

Well, you were definitely down for that. The blankets felt a little awkward with your body still being slightly damp, but you wriggled around until you were comfortable anyway, head back against the pillows. Minho’s bed was way too familiar to you now, and you revelled in the familiarity while doing something so new. You kept your legs shut, watching the two boys turn towards you with eager eyes.

“Spread your legs,” Minho commanded, and you obliged. You let your thighs fall apart and Jeongin’s eyes immediately fell to the wetness between your legs. “You see that, Jeongin? You’ve made it wet, yeah?” Minho chuckled and leaned in closer, his hand running up your thigh. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You felt yourself getting wetter as Jeongin's eyes watched the two of you kissing, his body shifting on the sheets.

You pulled away, grinning at Jeongin. “Do you want us to teach you what to do?”

“I- I mean, yeah, that’d be good,” He cleared his throat. “For future reference, and everything.”

“Okay,” You giggled, nodding. “Come and kiss me then. That’s a good start, no?”

Despite being the one to ask him to come and kiss you, you wrapped your hand in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him towards you. Jeongin squeaked, and fell on top of you, right between your spread legs. You let out an amused noise when his eyes seemed to dart between your face, your tits and your pussy, now pressed into his bulge, and then you were pulling him down by the back of his head.

Minho was right. He was a good kisser. He seemed to like the push and pull, being dominant one second and then letting you take the lead within seconds after. You let your hand run through his dark locks, pulling on it just a little, and Jeongin let out a low groan of approval. Minho chuckled next to you. Jeongin’s hands, however, seemed perfectly stationed either side of your head on the pillow. He was being respectful, but it was perhaps a bit too respectful.

“Jeongin,” You whispered against his lips. He raised his eyebrows, showing you he was listening. “Who taught you how to kiss? You’re an insanely good kisser.”

Jeongin laughed, a cute, melodic sound. “Hyunjin.”

Makes sense. “That’s cute, Jeongin,” You smiled. “Did he touch your dick, too?”

“Straight to the point,” Minho mused. You gave him a glare, side-eyeing where he was palming over his trousers. You wanted to touch him, but no - you had to focus on Jeongin for now.

“Mm, yeah, he jerked me off,” Jeongin nodded, and in a bold move for him, he leaned down to press a few kisses against the column of your neck. “Minho’s jerked me off before, too.”

You turned to Minho, lips parting in shock. Minho merely shrugged. “He has a nice cock. Jeongin, strip.”

Jeongin leaned up, looking at Minho in bewilderment. You chuckled, running one hand down his clothed chest. “I don’t need foreplay, Innie. Other people probably will, for future reference, but… I get too desperate and impatient. So, yeah. Get naked. Please.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, yeah,” You watched in glee as Jeongin yanked his t-shirt off, and then your jaw dropped. Jesus, was he always that built? You’d never really noticed, only seeing him as a cute guy with a lot of love for his friends and a hate for being called a baby. His skin was pulled tight around very, very sculpted abs - ones that could actually rival Chan’s if Jeongin decided to show them off more. You hoped he would. Letting one hand run down his abs, you hooked your fingers into his joggers, and pulled the fabric down - boxers too, because you really were known for being impatient.

Wow. Jeongin’s dick was hard and standing at attention. You licked your lips when you saw the short, dark curls at his base, framing a thick, average-length cock. The tip was ruddy, flushed and leaking precum in pearlescent drops that made you need him inside of you. You reached down and took him in your hand, stroking him lightly. He moaned in response, hips kicking up into the friction, and you pulled him closer, your other hand caressing his cheek. You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, feeling him harden even more in your grasp.

“I want this inside of me so bad,” You murmured. He sighed, although it was more like him choking on air. “Do you want to fuck me, Jeongin?”

“God, yes, but-” He cut himself off, turning to Minho. Minho raised an eyebrow, hand still stroking over his clothed erection. “Is it… okay if I go in without a condom? Is it okay with you?”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, Innie,” Minho chuckled, finally pushing his joggers down. Your mouth watered when you saw his erection, familiar and just as exciting as the first time you saw it. Jeongin turned back to you, his eyes fixated on yours.

“Fuck me raw, Jeongin,” You nodded. “I want to feel you, all of you.”

Jeongin sighed, and then he positioned his length at your entrance. His cockhead was thick, and you could feel the heaviness of it before he’d even pushed in and entered your pussy. He left it at your folds for a second, just resting against you, as if he didn’t know what to do. You shifted your hips, hoping to get him inside. The movement was too quick, however, and his cock dragged through your pussy lips without breaching.

“You’re too excited, kitty,” Minho murmured, hand stroking over your hair. You huffed, and he chuckled. “C’mere, let me do it.”

You watched in awe as Minho wrapped a tight fist around Jeongin’s length, positioning at your drippy hole. It was a shock when Jeongin finally let his sexual urges take over, pushing in fully and bottoming out in one thrust. You jolted, whining at the stretch.

“Fuck, Innie, you're thick. You've got a really nice dick, you know that?”

He let out a strained laugh, abs tensing above you. “I've been told.”

“Like this, Innie,” You went fully pliant as Minho pushed your legs up, letting Jeongin use his weight to enter you deeper. He started to thrust into you, sharp and strong albeit clumsy. The friction against your g-spot made you wail, eyes bleary with the feeling of uncalculated thrusts so deep inside of you. “Feels better like this, yeah?”

“Oh, this is wet,” Jeongin blurted, and it was almost like a question, his facial expression in disbelief. You really were wet, from the thought of taking someone’s virginity and the feeling of his cock pressing into you. Not to mention your boyfriend being so close to you, jerking his beautiful cock watching his girlfriend and his friend writhe in ecstasy. Jeongin was whining, hips sharply hitting against yours. “Fuck, I’m in so deep, it’s so good-”

It was good, almost too good - you loved watching Jeongin fall apart above you. It was like he couldn’t handle the pleasure he was feeling, little sighs and sharp grunts falling out of his lips. His eyes were dazed, staring down at you but unfocused as he focused on chasing his high. He had no clue what he was doing, but it somehow made the situation sexier - you were showing him how to fuck a pussy.

The knowledge that it was his first time, that you were corrupting someone previously so innocent and cute had you clenching around his cock tightly. You could cum just from this - something you’d discovered when fucking around with the others - and it wouldn’t take long, your thoughts running rampant and whines tumbling out of your mouth.

You whined when Jeongin slipped out from you clenching so tightly, his hair wet with sweat and his eyes watery. Minho scoffed, one hand on Jeongin’s hip to push him back in.

“Get back inside there, Jeongin,” He commanded, his eyes dark as he stared at Jeongin’s dick. It was wet with your essence, the tip leaking pearlescent droplets that you wanted inside. “You were going to make that pussy cum. You need to get back in if you want to learn.”

“I- I can’t, hyung,” Jeongin whined, shaking his head. He was crying now, fat tears dripping down his perfect skin. You moaned, one hand stroking his hair back to see his cute face. He was pouting, eyes sending a million apologies to you. “It’s too wet, I can’t. It’s too much, I’m gonna cum-”

Minho’s hand reached down and wrapped around Jeongin’s dick, pumping the length steadily. You gasped, lips parting as you watched Jeongin’s hips attempt not to fuck up into the tight ring that Minho had formed around the base of his cock. Minho gave him a few strokes, firm and tight, and then he was tapping the head of Jeongin’s cock against your clit.

“Ah, h-hyung, that’s good,” Jeongin wailed, and Minho smirked. His thumb swiped over the head of Jeongin’s cock, inadvertently rubbing over your clit too, and you jolted.

“I need it, Innie,” You pouted, staring up at him. He let his eyes meet with yours, his bottom lip quivering. “Please. Please, I need it, I’ll cum on your cock, I promise. It’ll get wetter, but you can handle it, I swear-”

“Fuck, fuck! Okay, okay,” Jeongin shook his head in shock, and then he let Minho push his cock back inside of you. Immediately, he was resuming a blistering pace inside of you, mindless and set on making you cum. Minho’s hand reached up to rub circles around your clit and you moaned loudly, trying to ignore the cramps in your legs from having them pushed back for so long. Jeongin grunted when you clenched around him, his facial expression wild and lustful. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to cum.”

“Make your partner come first, Jeongin,” Minho chastised, and you whimpered at the dominant tone of his voice. You could feel your eyes rolling back into your head, toes curling as you got closer to your peak. “It’s not gonna take long. See, look at their eyes.”

Jeongin blinked down at you, hands moving to your hips to try and keep a steady rhythm. He’d slowed down a little, trying to avoid his own orgasm, but Minho’s fingers more than made up for it. “You look so pretty.”

It was silent for a beat, until Minho chuckled. “Aren’t they pretty? Fuckin’ gorgeous, makes my dick so hard it hurts.”

“M-Min,” You whimpered, trying to focus on his body next to you. His fingers were slipping around on your bundle of nerves with how wet you were, but it did the job. “‘M gonna cum. Can I suck you, Min, please-“

“No. Focus on cumming on his cock.”

“God, if it gets much tighter I’ll cum,” Jeongin keened, his head dropping to your neck. You let your fingers run through his sweaty strands, kissing his cheek affectionately.

“Cum with me, Innie? I’m about to cum, you can let go,” You began, speaking through stuttered breaths. Jeongin’s hips hit a particularly hard thrust inside of you, and you almost screamed. “You can- oh, oh, I’m there, oh!-“

Jeongin groaned, eyes focused on you as he watched you squirm through your orgasm. You could feel the wetness gush from your core, soaking his cock until it was drenching the hair at the base. You wanted to lick it clean, but you couldn’t focus on anything else - because he was cumming inside of you. Hot wetness flooded into your core, gushing out to mix with your own and all you could do was keep yourself pliant and take it. His dick slid out of you with the wetness, your pussy clenching at the loss.

“Shit,” Your chest heaved, blinking over at Minho next to you. He rewarded you with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue swiping over yours. You moaned against his lips, hand moving to grab his neck and pull him tighter to you.

“Um, Y/N?” You pulled away, looking at Jeongin when he spoke. “I don’t know how, but… It's still hard. Can we-“

“You’re fucking the biggest slut I’ve ever met, Jeongin. Of course they’ll want to go again,” Minho mused, and you nodded, smiling. “Flip onto your front. Show him how deep it can go.”

You obliged, flipping onto your tummy and arching your back for Jeongin to slip back inside. The slide was wet, noises chiming around the room with the sound of yours and Jeongin’s cum mixed together. It was so dirty, and it had you whining into the pillow, reaching over to grab Minho’s hand.

“Please, please, Min-“

“I’m not fucking telling you again,” Minho grunted, his hand tight around the tip of his cock. You licked your lips, fixated on it. “Stop being so greedy. You already have a cock inside of you.”

You swore you could hear Jeongin chuckle, and then he was groaning. His large hands splayed across your ass, bringing you back onto his thrusts and you couldn’t help but moan - who the fuck taught him that? You let your hips bounce back against him, skin sticking to his with how fucking wet everything was. His thrusts increased in pace, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your head was spinning and your heart was racing as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming around his cock for the second time. You felt Jeongin's grip tighten on your hips, and you knew he was close too as you felt his thrusts grow more urgent.

“Minho,” You whined, looking over at him. He scoffed, and then he was moving, sitting in front of you with his cock in your face. He’d given in - you let yourself smile at the success, and then you were running your tongue over his balls, moaning. You engulfed his cockhead with your mouth and Minho’s hips bucked, his hand going to the back of your head with a groan.

“Look so pretty with a cock in your mouth,” Jeongin mused, his hands gripping your asscheeks. His balls slapped against your clit with a filthy wet noise, making you clench and suckle on Minho’s cock just a little more. “Can’t wait to fill you up again. God, you really are a slut, aren’t you? Do you want my cum again?”

“Jesus, Jeongin,” Minho chuckled, but his voice was strained. You giggled, dipping your tongue into Minho’s slit. “He’s a fuckin’ animal. I knew it. Smack her ass a bit, Innie.”

You squealed around Minho’s length when Jeongin raised one large hand to smack down on your ass, the flesh rippling. You bucked your hips back more, asking for another hit, and he obliged. His cock was so hard inside you and the slaps were heavy, painful on your smarting skin, and you loved it.

You didn’t think you could handle it much longer. Minho was so beautiful above you, his feline eyes narrowed and plush lips kiss-bitten as he stared down at you sucking his cock. His chest was covered in a blotchy red rash, showing his pleasure, and you let your jaw go slack.

“G’na fuck your mouth as you cum,” Minho groaned, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him this stuttery and horny in the whole time you’d been fucking him. He was falling apart. You hummed around his length, and he used your head to bob your mouth up and down on his cock. Being treated like a fuckdoll, spitroasted by your boyfriend and his friend was enough to have you clenching down tight on Jeongin again. Minho grinned at your facial expression, your eyes rolled back, tightening his fingers in your hair. “They’re gonna cum again, Jeongin.”

“Fuck. Yeah? You gonna cum again?” Jeongin asked, his cock repeatedly ramming into your g-spot. You didn’t even think he knew he was doing it, but you wailed in response nonetheless. “C’mon, flood my cock again. It felt so fucking good last time.”

You were done for. Your pussy clenched around Jeongin once more, walls fluttering as you let yourself go into your orgasm. Jeongin rewarded you with another smack to your ass, and the sensation had you cumming even longer - had it been a minute? An hour? You honestly weren’t sure, but it felt so fucking good you couldn’t find it in you to care. Minho grunted, and then he was holding your head down and spilling hot white warmth into your mouth. You swallowed it down dutifully, licking your lips, and then you were being flipped over again.

“Kiss me,” Jeongin urged, his hand pushing your thigh up again to fuck you deep. He was a quick learner. You grabbed him by his neck, letting your tongue lick over his. You knew he could taste Minho. That’s why he’d asked you to kiss him. Your pussy was sensitive now, after two orgasms, but you let him fuck you senseless nonetheless. Jeongin moaned, his lips barely brushing against yours in the exchange of spit and you could feel him getting close, his dick twitching in pleasure inside of you. You let go of his neck and grabbed his ass, pushing him in to cum even deeper than the first time.

He positively wailed as he came for the second time, his head dropping to the crook of your neck again. His body was squirming, twitching through his high, and he was gripping your hips way more than was comfortable - you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow, but it was worth it.

Once he’d filled you up, Jeongin dropped to your other side, chest heaving.

“Good first time?” Minho questioned, a smile on his face. Jeongin huffed, slinging one arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder. You accepted the cuddle, even more so when Minho sidled up to your other side.

“Good is an understatement,” Jeongin responded. His breath was so close you could feel it tickling your neck, and you giggled. “I’m still pissed off that I wasn't invited to the orgy.”

You hummed. “There’s always next time.”

Jeongin perked up at that, his smile wide. “You mean… you’re not planning on stopping even after having us all?”

Minho chuckled, kicking you playfully. “I don’t think they could stop even if they wanted to. My baby’s a whore.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You better not be planning on keeping that pussy all to yourself, Minho,” Jisung grumbled. He was shoving forkfuls of cereal into his mouth, and you had strong deja vu. You’d definitely been here before.

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Sungie,” Minho responded, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wiggled with glee from your position on his lap, and he chuckled. “I’m not planning on it, anyway.”

“Great,” Felix responded, elbowing your side softly. “I didn’t get my turn alone. People had to interfere.”

Seungmin scoffed. “You were touching each other up in the living room. Did you really expect us to turn a blind eye?”

“I suppose it’s better than a car,” Chan mused. You almost choked on your cereal, Minho patting your back soothingly. You heard Changbin mutter something along the lines of ‘or a gym’.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured into your ear. You smirked.

“I don’t think that’s something a normal boyfriend should be proud of, Min.”

“Yeah, well - we were never meant to have a normal relationship, were we? Remember, this all started from you saying you desperately wanted to fuck me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jisung giggled, beaming over at you both. “I still think that’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Look where it got us all.”

You hummed. You supposed you did have Jisung to thank for all of this - and your hot bitch summer had ended brilliantly, with a boyfriend you were borderline in love with even after fucking all of his frat brothers.

It couldn’t be any better for you at this point.

2K notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 2 years ago

Text

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍 drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 18.8k gdi

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However.

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you.

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck.

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it.

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.

“Who are you seeing?”

“Kook…”

“I wanna know.”

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.

“I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.”

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left.

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences.

But one thing you two have in common?

He’s just as stubborn as you are.

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,

“The fuck it isn’t—”

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything.

Except let you do this yourself.

“Please.”

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,

��You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck.

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”

He laughs again. So do you.

And the both of you break all at once.

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in.

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.”

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”

“I’ll be okay.”

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.”

“It sure as fuck was.”

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”

“But it’s true.”

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.”

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”

“Take you home?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.

If you didn’t have to wait.

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze.

So does time.

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons…

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.

“Fuck.”

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair.

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory.

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that.

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long.

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.”

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence.

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.”

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close.

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?

This can’t be it.

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”

“Until they realized we kept going alone.”

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”

True. “It could be worse, I think.”

“How?”

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.

Together.

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that.

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton.

“And leave this to us when you came back.”

So… He…

Holy shit.

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?

…Is he paying loans?

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”

“Empty?”

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.

And regret others.

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”

“All the time.”

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck.

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds.

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”

“Okay.”

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.

“Spoke to Kook.”

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.”

He what?

“Wait… You were?”

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.”

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—”

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh?

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean…

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start.

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.”

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”

“Mm.”

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”

Huh. “Me? How?”

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.

“Not even denying it. I like this.”

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.

“Break? Or what do you feel like?”

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”

“Mmk.”

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”

“You can definitely be upset.”

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.

Only warmth. And understanding.

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,

“What are you gonna say?”

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.

They’re lighter.

How is that possible? You’re still sad.

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.

“You will.”

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”

“Oh? The luckiest then.”

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.

“Maybe you’re right.”

One week turns into three.

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about—

Oh. Right.

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope.

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob.

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back?

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.

Three months.

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds.

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.

To the point where it’s starting to scare you.

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen…

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.”

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.

“Babe, tell me. Now.”

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless.

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.”

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”

“I just… You read.”

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there?

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?”

He freezes.

Which gives you a chance.

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet.

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.”

You do.

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.

“Please what.”

Everything you want.

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.

You don’t know what’s coming over you.

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.”

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.

“So fucking filthy...”

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.

“Don’t do that.”

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.”

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.

You know your panties are soaked.

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.

Perfect.

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,

“So fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.”

“Be for real.”

“Damn serious.”

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me like you missed me.”

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.”

“But—Yoongi!”

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops.

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?”

“Plea—Baby!”

“Huh?”

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.”

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?”

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.

“Then fucking beg.”

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.”

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.

Because his eyes speak volumes.

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.”

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.

It’s not.

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”

What is he—

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.

“Uh uh. Stay like that.”

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.”

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.”

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.”

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.”

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.”

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.

“Again.”

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,

“Again.”

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.

Oh, if they could witness you now.

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.

Yeah. Stuff like that.

“I’m her favorite.”

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.

Does he feel at home, too?

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”

“K.”

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“S’ok.”

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,

“I always do, babe.”

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.

“That’s my fault.”

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”

“You gave me tonight.”

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,

“A little longer is nothing.”

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.”

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.

“Not at all.”

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything.

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”

—

tbc. :)

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf) A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder. A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist

2K notes · View notes

hephaestiions · 16 days ago

Text

day 7 of @hprecfest — the best of your OTP

wit's end with this prompt, went through all my oldest bookmarks to pinpoint what about harry potter & draco malfoy sank its fangs into me eleven years ago and— look—

i can't remember the first h/d fic i read, but it would have been from @dictacontrion's daily drarry quotes initiative— a splendid system queueing delicious h/d snippets that ran from 2013 to early 2022. dicta wrote many of my early h/d favourites, the stuff that really got me into this ship, but the DDQ initiative was my first exposure to what prolific reading & fandom engagement looked like. DDQ led me to dicta's curated recs here on tumblr and here on LJ— gorgeous selections that were a crash course in learning my tastes.

hungry for more lists (still didn't quite trust myself with ao3/ffnet's search functions), i found @capiturecs' meticulous & immensely navigable LJ rec archive + rec tag & @gracerene-recs' drarry tag. i still go back to these, especially for older fics i don't see recced all that much anymore.

@drarryspecificrecs' reccing & fic finding catalogues running since 2017 are something else; their work on their main blog, on @drarryspecificrecsdaily & as part of @lostdrarryfics (if i'm not mistaken) is an enduring force in this fandom. their consistent contributions put so many underrated fics on my dash i wouldn't encounter otherwise, and it's always a joy to get the tag notif when i post something on ao3. (also here's a drarry reccers masterlist curated by LDF, i haven't checked out everyone on it, but go forth & enjoy!)

@bridenore has been reading fic on a scale i can only aspire to, their continuously updating rec tag is such a diverse list of reads across tropes & fests. @mxlfoydraco's one-stop-shop masterlist is also glorious.

@thedrarrylibrarian's friends of the library initiative is such a fun take on showing love to fanwork & building community— every rec, interview & adjacent commentary felt like having a warm mug of hot chocolate with a friend. here's the masterlist!

i'm also loving the collaborative brilliance of @drarry-reccage ('get recced!' is phenomenal energy)— seven pals putting time into fresh recs. individual tags: @cailynwrites' tag here; @dontthrowsticksatme's tag here; @garagepaperback's tag here; @kk1smet's tag here; @mallstars' tag here; @pl0tty's tag here; @sweatersinthesummer's tag here.

i also love @sweet-s0rr0w's recs (masterlist & tag); i love how inventive she is with themes (the collaborative sex scene rec initiative is fucking inspired). sweet is also doing recfest, check out the tag!

@ghaniblue's monthly reading lists are always fun & fresh + acari's rec tag includes their recfest entries, featuring some drarry, some other ships (including rarepairs), so go have a look!

in general, i've always loved creative recs, so @onbeinganangel's embroidery recs were some of the most fantastic stuff to ever cross my dash (i was lucky enough to get one for my birthday a few years ago & it changed my life). wistfulrats themed recs + commentary were also brilliant. this author list by @bogglebeans was also wonderfully unique & had great takes.

and! of course! @sitp-recs whose blog & person are both gems, whose participation in this fandom is an absolute beacon of light. liv reads & recs with such infectious enthusiasm & i only realised how much of a love song reccing could be for works & creators i enjoy and admire through following her. here's her masterlist of masterlists & every link is delightful. liv also runs incredibly, incredibly kind initiatives, the hidden gems series stands out, as does running @yours-drarry blog which is a platform to send appreciation to fandom participants, so if you've got some love to show someone this holiday season, hop on over!

this is by no means a comprehensive overview of all the reccing that goes on in this fandom, i'm probably missing much more than i've counted (speaking of, if you rec & i've missed you, let me know and i'll follow your tag). but among the many things i adore about h/d fandom, the robust reccing culture occupies one of the top spots, not only because it shows appreciation for creators but because it's such a distilled display of excitement for participating in fandom— all of us poking each other and being poked to go look at that cool, brilliant, fantastic thing, jittery to wax poetic about it. reccers held my hand in fandom when i didn't know what i was doing, relentlessly cheered (other) creators on, cultivated a participative space for readers & lurkers and set the bar in so many ways.

to everyone who keeps the h/d fandom alive— reccers, but also writers, artists, podficcers, fest moderators, editors, cheerleaders, readers, lurkers, everyone, everyone, past & present: you are the best of this ship.

for all the love, time & effort you've poured into this space, thank you.

#drarry #drarry recs #geets does hprecfest #geets recs #please tell me if my tags are broken tumblr is a mess #also once again #no i'm not three days late what are you talking about

87 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 2 years ago

Text

Good Dad, Better Daddy (m)

Pairing: Fem!reader x dilf!Mingyu

Genre: smut, angstish

word count: 8.4k

tags: plot rich, age gap, morally gray reader, medical student!reader, mentor!reader, best friend's dad!mingyu, kissing joshua and brief mentions of jeonghan, forced proximity, domestic au, mention of alcohol, spitting, oral (rec.), praise kink, pet names (good girl) pussy spitting, spanking, daddy kink, exhibitionism, face cumming, pearl necklaces, unprotected sex

Summary: you were hesitant when your friend said you should just stay at her house for the summer, especially knowing you can barely contain yourself with her hot dad around as well as the thought of not getting caught.

author note: so this one is real, as promised. its filthy. messy. and dramatic

@shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @onlymingyus

You had a pretty normal taste in men. It wasn’t extraordinary, like he had to be super talented at one thing or had to come from loads of old money. What you envisioned for yourself was a nice man with a humble heart, great taste in food–if he could help it–be fit and find you just as attractive as you find him.

Kim Mingyu, your college friend’s biological father, could not be this man. He could never be this man. Not for the fact that he is unattractive–good heavenly gods and goddesses, how does a man like this exist–because he is just that, incredibly gorgeous and big and tall and hot.

The point is, you’re still looking, and this summer was the perfect time to do that. The problem was that Minhee–the trustworthy underclassmen/good friend/daughter of the infamously hot dad that somehow surfaced all over campus–invited, well insisted, that you stay with her for the remainder of summer break.

You had gotten close with her over the school year as a mentor, working her though pre-med to prepare her for actual medical school, yours specifically since it was best in the whole ding dang country. You just happen to mention your parents lived out of the way and you couldn’t visit them this year, so summer break had been a fleeting thought in your mind. Minhee, irrevocably delightful and considerate, wanted to show thanks for all the time you put into helping her and mention the spare room at her home half an hour away from campus.

The same home with the incredibly gorgeous father of hers that you had the pleasure of meeting once at a college picnic. It was a hot day, and he wore a sleeveless tank top that was transparent from the sweat of several rounds of volleyball, clinging on to him like a thin additional layer of skin. Attention was on him like a single acorn in a field of squirrels, gnawing at the sight of such a specimen with abs and pecs so taut and round you could mistake them for the brioche buns for the grilled burgers you were all having. And now, you are going to have the pleasure of living in close quarters with him. Only God knows how this would go.

“Good seeing you again, Y/n. Need help getting that upstairs?”

Mr. Kim, who urges you to call him Mingyu instead, is pointing out the duffle bag the size of a human being loaded on your back that you physically struggled to carry in. You remember your mom once pointing out how it looked ridiculous strapped to you like that. That was the point mother. It eliminated any potential advances.

You grin back at him with wide, platonically amicable smile, “Nope, all good,” then made your first steps over to the stairs and you can practically feel his presence lingering behind you as you walked up, probably waiting for you to fall so he could catch you in his stupidly large arms.

“Are you sure? I’m all for being a feminist, independence and what not, but I don’t know if I can let a bag that big potentially get you to trip fall down these stairs. Just had them remodeled.” God, his smile was dazzling, and those pretty canines could mark you like a badge you’d wear proudly.

“I’m good, Mr. Kim. Your glossy wood boards are safe under my feet, I promise.”

He scoffs, following you back up the stairs. “What did I tell you about calling me Mingyu, hmm? Plus you’re a guest. Since I’m the one that’s paid off this house, that means something.”

Please. He’s so witty, funny, and charming in addition to being so, so hot. This was going to be a long summer.

You toss the bag on the bed in the room Mingyu had claimed would be your ‘home away from home,’ and you smile at him in gratitude for keeping the peace.

“While I appreciate it, it’s all good. Thank you, though.” You were painfully aware of your hair sticking out in the most unflattering angles, your cheeks warm and face sweaty from climbing up a flight of stairs, and your loud obnoxious pants that could compete with your old neighbor’s golden retriever that had breathing problems. Nope, not even giving him an opportunity to think about any potential of being in bed with him. The question was, were you trying to convince him or yourself?

“Well then, Minhee is with her mom for another hour, so you won’t see her until then. If you’re hungry I could always whip you something up in the meantime. Save you some lunch money.”

Before you could protest, the eruption of thunder in your stomach interrupts you, earning Mingyu your sheepish grin and you one of Mingyu’s know-it-all smiles. “I guess a sandwich or something couldn’t hurt.”

He beckons you with a head tilt. “Come on down, you can help me. We can make something for Minhee before she gets here, too.”

Let’s make things clear. When Kim “DILF” Mingyu asks you to follow him to hell, you follow him to hell. When he offers to make you food, you happily devour it. And when he asks you for help in the kitchen, you tell him “yes, chef,” like you’re his doting little follower. You convince yourself it’s because you grew up with manners in your household. Helping elders was the least you could do. Mingyu, being much older, just naturally fell into that category.

“So, Minhee has only good things to say about you. I can’t thank you enough for helping her.”

He shoves the fabric of his button up to his elbows and proceeds to grab things from top sleeves you wouldn’t otherwise reach, handing you a grater and block of cheese to conjure up some of his famous Kimchi pasta. You’re carefully holding the grater steady by the handle, taking the block from the tip and spreading. “Well, Minhee’s awesome, I can’t thank her enough for being amazing. Getting into medical school was insane for me and she’s just breezing through. You have a very intelligent daughter, Mr. Kim.”

“Mingyu.” He repeats, as if telling you once wasn’t enough.

You shake your head while scrunching your nose. “Doesn’t roll off the tongue for me, sorry.”

Pouting, he glances at you in a light-hearted glare. “Fine. Treat me like a stranger. Eat my food like I’m a personal chef. I'm just Minhee’s old man after all.”

You roll your eyes with a smile on your lips. “Fine. Mingyu. Happy?”

“Much.”

His tone is happy, playfully, yet effortlessly alluring. Especially as he strides your way, standing mere inches away from you to retrieve a bountiful cheese nestling inside the grater, which he scoops up into a bowl to put in his decadent red sauce simmering over the stove. He meets your eyes in a soft gaze, the one that makes you hear music in your head, politely asking, “more please,” and tossing bowel’s contents to the pan.

He wants more cheese, you’d grate more cheese. What you did not intend was a piece of your palm to get caught in the metal. You wince, causing you to drop the cheese grater and hold up your hand to examine the damage.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately comes back to your side and takes your hand in his large grasp, seeing the cut for the first time, fresh with red. “Be more careful, please.”

His eyes crinkle in concern, thumbing over the sensitive layer skin, and releasing a sigh from his lips. Your eyes flutter, startled at his quick return, feeling the tension of his forearms as it brushed against yours. He could’ve not looked more attractive than this very moment and now you were wondering how many accidents you can get yourself into before he starts suspecting they’re intentional.

“I’m okay. Just a bit of a scratch.”

The way his eyes flit back at you in disbelief, almost as if there’s anger in them, and that simple look makes something in your chest do somersaults. “Are you kidding me? You’re bleeding. I’m getting first aid.”

“Mingyu–”

“Sit down, Y/n.”

Why, yes, sir.

You take the seat on the bar stool, watching as Mingyu momentarily turns off the stove and grabs a little red box. He pulls it apart, setting most of the contents on the counter. He treats the cut delicately, quietly, gracefully. Making sure it’s properly clean from infection, he places a bandaid, trapping in the sensitivity.

“Thank you.” You squeak out.

He gives you a soft grin. “Not a problem. Didn’t expect to be babying two girls this weekend.”

Babying. That word lingered in your mind longer than it should have. It invades your brain, crawling into the inner workings of thoughts pushed aside and echoed in your head. It bothered you and you have the faintest idea why.

You snicker humorously. “I’m definitely not a baby.”

He shrugs, smoothing out the adhesive. “Of course not. Not many babies are accomplished enough to graduate cum laude to get into medical school with 4.0 GPA, while building a philanthropy for families that suffered from loss due to the worldwide pandemic.”

You shyly shield away hearing that. You hadn’t expressed that part of your life often with other people. Most of the time, you are found out, having people commend you when the topic is brought up. But you didn’t do it for attention, including Mingyu’s. “Minhee told you that?” You watch for his response, seeing his lips curl up in a foreign method.

“No, she didn’t.”

You shake your head, bemused. “How did you hear that then?”

“I did my own research on you. Making sure you weren’t some kid making Minhee out for a quick buck.”

“And?” You had a feeling there was more to it.

His posture has shifted, expression somewhat twisted, and eyes fixated on you. Like he is undressing you in his head as we speak.

“I wasn’t disappointed.”

A gust of wind expels from your lungs and despite the vagueness in both your words, it’s as if you were speaking your own language. He lets go of your hand, but visibly craves being closer. Cursing his better judgment, he doesn’t take the risk, and instead takes a step back instead. Your arm lunges forward, off your seat and towards Mingyu, and your hand wraps around his forearm. You trail over his expression, cautious and hesitation, and you let a digit impulsively run down his arms, now pebbling in goosebumps under your touch.

“Why do you look scared of me?” you ask, now grinning.

He looks as if he wants to brush off the comment, but his defense fails to let him. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“You tell me, Mr. Kim,” You raise a brow. “Or I’m sorry, Mingyu. Since that is what you like me calling you. Mingyu.”

He scoffs, feeling backed into a corner. The image was funny since he had the very build to do that same, but here he was. Trapped. Being interrogated. None other than a college student only a few years older than his daughter. “Can you blame a guy for wanting to make things less awkward?”

“What is there to be awkward about–I’m not awkward,” you lie through your teeth, pressing a palm to your chest, “Is there something you feel awkward about? Mingyu.”

His name burns on your tongue differently, stark in contrast to its original purpose of dropping formalities. Maybe it could drop pants instead.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Y/n.”

Looks like you’ve hit a nerve.

“I’m simply trying to get to know you better, considering that’s what it sounded like you wanted. Are you trying to get to know me, Mingyu? What things do you want to know?”

His bottom lip drops from the corner of his mouth, blinking back at your taunts in intrigue, and shifts the weight on his legs. He takes the moment to scan you from head to toe, deliberating your question, leaning closer against you until you find your back digging into the marble of the counter. His hands plant on either side of you. His warm breath fans your cheeks, spicy cologne surrounding you at all angles, and he ponders at you from the dark wisps of hairs that fell at his eyes.

“Are you ready for that answer? Truly?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, already caught in those eyes that now trailed over your body shamelessly. He looks at you as if he held back this whole time and has finally let loose of the reins. His hands smoothed over the marble, meeting each other, locking fingers, and trapping you in his careful embrace.

Your hand falls to his first chest, feeling the pure stone beneath the thin layer of fabric on top of him. You let out a shallow breath, eyes roaming over the man you so desperately wished wasn’t constantly in your mind. God, did he feel utterly exquisite.

Your hands trail up the nape of his neck, lifting yourself from your toes, and let your lips ghost over his. Your hot, anxious breath fans his face, and the pulse you feel under your palm heightens. “I think I have a right to know a lot of what you’re not telling me.”

‘Fuck me. Fuck me right now against this counter. I promise I’ll be good. Please lord, give it to me.’

Your wishes aren’t granted when you hear a car pull up and Mingyu immediately backs off, shaking his head like falling out of a trace.

‘No! No! Minhee. What the fuck? What the fuck? I was this close to fucking your dad and I was willing to do so much.’

You internally sob, hearing the beep of the vehicle go off, and a few seconds after a jangle of keys, the door swings open. “The prophetic child had arrived!”

You settle into the marble in defeat. Trying to muster up anything other than disappointment on your face as you watch Mingyu retreat from you and wrap his arms around his daughter. “Took you long enough, kid. Was thinking you forgot about me.”

“How could I even think about leaving the two of you alone in one place? You are embarrassing enough.”

His arm slings over her shoulders, planting an old fashioned noogie on the crown of her head. “Take that back. Say I’m the coolest.”

“Dad, what the heck? You’re so annoying!”

Minhee talks a lot of smack, but she smiles the brightest around her dad. Their smiles couldn’t be any more different, considering she got that from her mom, but you could see a lot of Mingyu in Minhee. Your stomach is now bubbling up in guilt, momentarily grim, before pushing yourself to meet her halfway. “Hi, Minhee.”

“Y/n!” She shoves Mingyu out of the way and grips you with so much force and warmth. “You really came! Gosh, this summer is gonna be so great.”

Minhee takes you aside, switches eyes back and forth from me and her father, chipper like an elf the day after Christmas. “My two favorite people in one summer. Don’t tell mom.”

“Why not,” he joins your embrace, fingers brushing against your bicep making your micro hairs stand stiff on your arm. “It could really bother her with this. I have every mind to.”

“Don’t you dare! Anyway, what's for lunch?”

Mingyu doesn’t pay the slightest attention to you during the meal after what almost transpired in the very place you prepared it. You fork over your food door in contempt, watching their animated conversation long enough to analyze their relationship. Minhee is as easy going as her dad, all smiles and radiance, and while Mingyu was well into his age, it doesn't appear so as he emits this natural youth that seems to combat age better than that of the most expensive, luxurious cream on the market. He aged incredibly. Even the smell of fermented cabbage couldn’t bring disdain to his presence.

“Hope dad’s been nice. He can be a lot.”

You’re pulled away from your thoughts and you smile back at the younger girl, not letting it reach near your eyes. “Oh, he’s been…inviting.”

Mingyu clears his throat at that, hands giving out in a slight tremble as he reaches over to retrieve his beverage.

“Probably overly inviting. He has a habit of that, but that is usually what scares the bad ones away. He’s always given my ex-boyfriends this illusion of comfort and hospitality, but then rips them apart when they say anything remotely critical about me.” She playfully shudders, “he can go psycho.”

“I am right here, darling daughter.”

“Good, because you needed to hear it.”

You chuckle in amusement, feeling honored you get to witness such a wholesome relationship. Their familial interactions eventually come to an end and dishes are gathered to get washed. You volunteer yourself to help, reasoning with the Kims that you were a grateful guest living here for free, and that this was the least you could do.

“Not with your cut.” Mingyu points out.

Minhee’s eyes shoot open at you. “You got a cut?”

“It’s fine,” you reassure, “I’ll wear gloves. Why don’t you get the movie ready that you’ve been wanting to watch?”

“I actually thought of taking us out, if that’s okay. We should spend the first night out, not at home. Silly.”

“Oh?”

You hadn’t thought about leaving the house much, only expecting a few dinners out when the night prompted, but it was a Thursday afternoon. What much was there to do on a hot summer weekday? What was even open?

“There's just this place I wanted to check out since getting back into town and I just know you would love it. Please?”

You were actually really hoping to finish that moment again with Mingyu, calling in a bathroom break when you’re really having him rail you down the stairs with his hand clamped over your mouth. “Sure. Why not? We deserve it.”

Minhee claps with joy. “Great! I’m gonna get ready.”

The girl makes her excited steps up the stairs, the thumps of her feet distancing from earshot as you come up over the sink. You pull the gloves over your forearm as warm water runs down the rubber. “I guess I should hurry up and get ready too.”

You peer at Mingyu from the corner of your eyes. For the first time, an unreadable expression is on his face, and he’s taken over in silence. He thinks to walk over, hovering his footing, and gradually approaching you in a smooth stride. “You girls have fun.”

That was a strange response considering your moment together. You direct your body to him, “Um, Mingyu, are you acting strange becau–”

“We should let what happened not come between us. Just a fleeting moment. Natural with two adults. You understand.”

With that he walks away from you, only having his back into view as tracks his way back to his room, leaving you abandoned, horny, ashamed.

Fuck it. You will have a good time.

As soon as you and Minhee were both ready, you’d have a great time out, and you’d make sure of it. You leave the house together, punching the thought of Mingyu away and enjoy drinks at the new bar located a short drive from her place. The atmosphere is lively and well and the drinks, although pricey, were delicious nonetheless.

The occasional image of Mingyu mere centimeters away from you would appear in your head and with that, you immediately swallow down your drink, drowning him until it’s a blur. It helps that Minhee liked talking, and you dind’t mind in the slightest. She was good company, one of the many reasons you like being around Minhee. It seems that you weren’t the only one to agree as you swarmed by company.

They introduced themselves as Jeonghan and Joshua, two gentlemen that planned on scoping out the location to see how it competes with theirs, evidently poaching new clientele. They urge both you and Minhee to visit their place another time, persuading you with a few free drinks and perks they were willing to give. You looked back at Minhee, seeing the same temptation in her eyes you felt in yourself, and you accepted, letting them know you’d be coming.

The rest of the time is a blur–enjoying the presence of the music, eating, drinking, enjoying your first night out in a long time–and you feel a body against yours. You turn your head to see Joshua, finding the warmth of his strong, thick body lost in yours. You indulge, feeling the sweet release of liquor on your tongue and allowing him to roam your body with no protest.

You let a few moans slip, his hand automatically creeping over your waist. He grins angelically, but him on you feels like a constant devil on your shoulder. “You’ll make it, right? I’ll only come into work that night for you.”

You giggle like he said the funniest thing in the world, turning to face him and putting your hands over his shoulders, staring into his big eyes. “I promise.”

He holds you close that night, like Mingyu should’ve, but it does not breach the point of dancing. You appreciated that. When the night came to a close, you and Minhee got your UBER home. You wave away that kept you both company tonight and come back to Kim's residence a little lighter. Mingyu was nowhere in sight when you got home, so you drag Minhee up the stairs before that happens.

It takes a minute to wash her up, but eventually she gets into bed, and falls into a peaceful slumber. You were ready to have your turn. Peeling off your clothes, washing your face, and showering everything off was going to feel like a reset. You weren’t going to let the disappointment from today dictate the rest of your summer. Kim Mingyu was not why you came here. You were here to have the time of your life with your closest friend.

Walking out in the hallway to retrieve toiletries and extra clothes, there he stood. Shirtless–of course, he was–tan, taut, large. This man was a fucking mountain. He drags himself over to you in his gray sweats. “You’re both home late.”

“Night got away, sorry.” You weren’t sorry.

“As long as you’re both safe,” he grins kindly, “How's your hand?”

You bring it up in the air for him to see. “Perfectly fine. Didn't even feel it.”

Doubtful, he gets to grab it, ignoring your feeble protest. He turns it from front to back, stepping closer to you, shooting electricity throughout your body. The longer he lingers in your proximity, another one of his senses takes over. Nose stifling breaths, he’s leaning in, inhaling the scent on your body. You feel heat running up to your cheeks, flustered by his sudden urgency. “Do you always wear men’s cologne?”

Confusion displays on your face. You pick up the top hem of your blouse for a quick sniff and there it was, the scent he was referring to. Some concoction of sea breeze and sage lightly coated your clothes. Must’ve been Joshua. “Probably caught it from someone from the bar we went to.”

“You met someone?” He asks plainly.

You shrug, an unsure smile on your face. “I don’t know.”

There’s an unreadable look on his face you catch until it turns solemn, dropping your hand. “Get some rest.”

He trots off to his own room, his dark figure shrinking as he gets further away. You take a long sigh the moment he’s gone from sight, wallowing in that sinking sensation of knowing what had happened this afternoon. The position you place yourself in, the position he placed himself, was over.

After showering, you went to bed hoping the next day would be better. You shouldn’t have been sad. You had a decent night. Drank loads, danced all night long, mingled with people you don't feel guilty about. And tomorrow will be a new day.

Morning is spent with a Kim’s style breakfast, which means an abundance of anything they can make with leftover ingredients from the kitchen. Mingyu was bright and early along with Minhee, and she didn’t look like she lost one hour of sleep that night. She greets you as friendly as always and Mingyu follows.

You join the meal in silence, playing off as recovering from the night before–which wasn’t wrong–and eat your portion, feeling it fuel the unruly mood you were in. Damn, he was a good cook.

“You girls have anything fun to do today?”

Minhee answers with utter delight. “I’m taking Y/n to this other bar we were recommended last night.”

You nod in compliance with that.

“Well, if that’s all, why don’t we go grocery shopping? I’ve been setting all kinds of guest stuff at the house but forgot to stock up the fridge. You and Y/n can pick out whatever you need. I’ll pay.”

You look up, stopping him. “You don’t have to do that.”

He shares that kind of look he gives when he’s in front of his daughter, but a ghost of the lusty gaze was still fresh in your mind. “I’m not forcing myself to do anything. Just hoping to be a welcoming host. Think of it as a family outing. You get to be one of us.”

Minhee snorts at that. “Could you be anymore of a dad?”

“So what I’m hearing is you don’t want free snacks and sodas to have at the house?” He reiterates in hopes of tempting her.

“Well, I didn't say that.”

Mingyu laughs, turning back to you. “So?”

“Sure.” You respond with a forced smile.

Minhee made no concern about making a dent in Mingyu’s wallet and if he minded, he didn’t show it. You figured with the big house they have that this would be no different from a kid in a candy store seeing her spring everywhere and excited to show you local products only sold at this specific market. You would giggle at anything and all comments she’s made coming across something out of the ordinary and Mingyu would trail behind with his full cart like the dad he is.

“Oh my god, I think I just saw someone! You and dad, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Minhee trots off by herself, leaving you and Mingyu alone again in your awkward silence. Having nothing to say, you didn’t, and you assumed he wouldn’t either.

“I don’t want things to be weird,” he starts, “it was a lapse of judgment on my part.”

“Mingyu, please,” you whisper, “she’s ten feet away from us.”

“And I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he leads the cart so he’s walking beside you, towering over you like the skyscraper he was, “Coming on to you wasn’t the plan. Minhee respects you, cares about you. And why wouldn’t she? You’re amazing.”

You shirt under his words, dismissing it when you throw a family size bag of ruffle chips in the car. “Been wanting these.”

“I’m just sorry. I’ve clearly bothered you, disrespected you, and I didn’t intend for any of that.”

“Why are you saying this now,” you ask in a hushed tone, causing him to stop the wheels, “what are you even doing?”

He sighs, dropping his head in embarrassment, unsure either, but it seems as if he wanted to clear the tense air. You appreciated it. Most men that have done way more than what he did would’ve flat out ignored you regardless of the situation. Ghosting became a globalized norm. Mingyu’s confrontation, although stress-inducing, was somewhat refreshing. Different from previous men you’ve had relations with, platonic or not.

“Minhee is the most important thing in my life and you are someone very special to her, more than you know.”

You nod in agreement, understanding his sentiment. “She’s special to me. My best friend even.”

Mingyu sighs in relief. “So, we’ll forget what we had happened?”

“Forget what happened?” You grin in the end.

He smiles back, looking up as Minhee reunites with you and you feel as if things are back to normal. Minhee is still your closest friend. Mingyu is just her hot dad. And that’s it. That was that. You were fine thinking that for the rest of the summer.

The rest of the day was all leisure right up until the evening. As the light outside dimmed, You and Minhee were getting ready to go out again. The attire was slightly more done up than the previous night, boosting your confidence. You added a dark shadow paired with tighter clothes and Minhee couldn’t help but gush at your appearance. Loving this girl was too easy. You trade her the same excitement and bounced together in the anticipation of another exciting night.

You followed her downstairs, ready to leave, and Mingyu the last thing you see before you make your way to the door. “Have fun! Be safe.”

Leaving with a new life on lease, that seems to change when catch a glimpse at his face shutting the door. The darkness in his eyes, how they scan from up and down your body in a swift lick, burned in your memory. And you once again feel that feeting excitement he graced you once with.

You made good on your promise to the guys from the other night, and they were one of the first few faces you see as you enter. You join them, getting the free drinks they swore to give and experience more of the night life. Compared to the previous bar, this had been much more lively, rowdy, touchy. You made sure to be careful, carrying both your and Minhee’s drinks with hands hovering over their open lips. Minhee gathers her less than sober self to go to the restroom, insisting there's no need for you to come and that’d she’d be fine.

“Are you sure?” you ask in concern, and she repeats herself, pointedly shifting her eyes to the man behind you in mischief as she makes her escape.

Joshua meets your side similarly to last night, grinning that gorgeous grin, looking back at you with those pretty brown eyes, and large hands traveling over your body in a practiced-movement. “I was happy to see you came.”

“Oh?” you smile back, hands over his neck.

The small distance between you both leaves so little to the imagination and feeds some of that intimacy you’ve craved since coming to this part of town. You don’t look at him to know he wants you. From the way he cradles your sides, coming down‌ your shape, to how his hips lightly dip back to yours sensually, generously. You press up to his body in need, believing you want it too, but when you test your limits, you’re faced with reality.

The moment your lips meet, you hope to feel something–anything–but in the back of your mind a voice taunts you. It laughs back at you. Pressing the big red X button like it was broadcasted talent show.

It was a nice kiss. Somewhat decent, with nothing inherently wrong with it. But it didn't leave you wanting more.

‘He could never be him.’

You part from him abruptly and‌ in a few words of apology he understood, stepping back with a small smile. How you wish it could’ve been him. It would’ve been so much easier if it were him.

You go off to find Minhee, searching for her up and down. Going to the restroom couldn’t have taken that long, then there she was, dancing on the small stage right by the DJ. Everyone cheered for her as she did her performance, as did you, but it all came to a close as she tumbled right off, hitting the ground and landing on her side.

“Minhee!”

No limps were broken, no twisted ankle, or broken ribs, but drunk off her rocker, and it's proven true as you hear her slurring her words. You lightly slap sides of her face to gain back her consciousness. Not even seeing her flinch, you knew she was long gone.

“You probably get her back home safe in bed,” Jeonghan says stepping in.

You conceded, apologizing another time this night for things that should’ve been in your control. Mingyu was going to hate you for this, but you needed her home safe.

You wave at the male duo and a few other friends you made from the cab and tend to Minhee as she loses to sleep. You amble on to carry her weight back to the house, shuffling through her keys to reach past the door. Making too much noise and taking too long to find the right key, it open from teh other side, meeting Mingyu who stares back at you with startled eyes.

“What happened to her?”

There’s a calm fury in his voice, and guilt festers in the pit of your stomach. “Help, please. I’m sorry.”

He comes to Minhee’s other side, grumbling to himself as he helps guide her upstairs. She drops on her bed in heavy plop, her snores following. You both tiptoe towards the door and shut it quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

“Now, I repeat, what the hell happened?”

He had every right to be angry. You did this, you could’ve prevented this.

He lets you a deep exhale, quietly shouting his daughter's name in anguish. “Minhee, what the fuck?”

“She drank too much,” you admit, “She left to go to the restroom. I should’ve gone with her.”

“You think? You both could’ve gotten severely hurt, or worse.”

“Mingyu, I'm so sorry.”

He takes a moment of silence. “It’s not entirely your fault. Minhee overexerts herself sometimes. forces her to let loose twice as hard to make up for it. I wonder if I taught her that.”

“No, of course not. I'm her best friend. I should’ve kept an eye on her.”

“You were there to have fun, not babysit. Look, Minhee may be that right now but it’s because I couldn’t support her properly, because of me she has developed these unhealthy habits.” he sighs. “Though, after the divorce, I wonder if I was ever a good father.”

You tug at him in disbelief. “You’re a great dad! Minhee loves you so much. She talks about you all the time. “

His gaze softens, pulling lightly at his t-shirt, “She does?”

“Yes, like how you cook for her on sick days so that she recovers twice as fast. Or when she was little, she made a scrapbook out of the little lunch notes you made her. Or when you confronted her boyfriend at that picnic, getting in his face and yelling at him. Yeah, she was embarrassed, but she was more relieved that it got out there at all. You are the person she loves the most. You’re so amazing and sweet and kind…Mingyu, I don’t want to forget about yesterday.”

His eyes harden at your shift of tone. “Y/n, you promised–”

“Yeah, well, that was before yesterday when I didn’t think I had a chance with someone like you.”

You draw yourself closer to him, closing the gap, feeling him fall weak for a moment, reciprocating. His lips were plush and sweet as you hoped, stark in contrast to his firm torso you felt through his shirt. He pulls away, holding you at a distance.

“Y/n, we can’t—“

“I kissed someone tonight.”

He immediately tenses up, his hand overlapping around your wrist, speaking in a lethally soft voice. “What?”

“We danced, got super close, and we kissed.”

The moment you mention it, Mingyu immediately smells it. The dreaded cologne. He takes it in once again and grits his teeth in anger. Jealously quickly become a evil on his shoulder. “Same bastard?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, “but I wanted him to be you. I can't stop thinking ab—“

His lips fits over yours, his hand pressing into the arch of your back. He kisses you with so much carnal rage you can taste blood on your tongue and he launches you from the ground and around his waist. You dig your fingers into his scalp, kissing him deep, whimpers leaving your lips like a needy puppy.

“Not here,” he quickly states, before carrying you off to a room at the end of the hall. Fuck, was this a large house.

Once the door locks behind him, not bothering to turn on the lights in the almost pitch black of night, he takes your lips to feel his unadulterated power as he pins you to a wall. “Mingyu—“

“I’m not speaking to you, so you can forget about hearing a response.”

With much struggle, he pulls your panties out, or should you say tears it off of you as it drops tattered to the ground. That was fine. You can buy a million pieces of underwear, but there was only one Kim Mingyu. His pants fall abandoned on the ground, revealing his cock gloriously rock hard below you, looking even aesthetically beautiful with the moonlight peeking out from the window.

“You can speak now. Do you want me to fuck you, Y/n?” he asks menacingly, almost daring you to answer.

“Yes, Mingyu, please fuck me.”

He leverages you on the wall, fishing a condom out of a nearby drawer. Rolling it on, he lines it against your slit before he makes himself known. Your eyes roll back at the stretch, fingers digging into his shoulder as he bounces you on his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.”

Mingyu throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you.

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrived from it, came to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

He pays your climax no mind, pushing you off the wall and pushing you into the sheets face down. You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“You can look, but remember. Stay quiet. Got it?”

You nod back, obeying, biting into the duvet.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the bed. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could've been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into the rubber. The moment he pulls out, it’s over. It’s truly over. You knew it’d happen that way but the pain didn’t feel any less real.

“Wash up and get to bed before Minhee sees.”

The door shuts and once again, you’re all alone.

In that shower, you sob, washing away the remaining grime, filth, guilt. And after everything that’s happened, you still hoped he’d fuck you like that again.

The next few days goes by and you don’t get that opportunity again. Instead, Minhee took up most of your days. You’d go to the market, watch movies, meet her friends and make them your own, grabbing take out and dinner reservations until you’ve scoured every part of town. And Mingyu, well, he’s staying on the sidelines, observing, never mentioning the your night of intimacy.

You hide it through smiles, good food, good company, but you dying on the inside, thinking to yourself how things got this way.

You missed his body, his warmth, his cock fucking you recklessly, not caring if he breaks you. The guilt you had once for betraying Minhee deteriorated over time, replaced with Mingyu, and just Mingyu.

That’s then you made an opportunity. You just need Minhee out. Calling up the friends you made in the area, you arranged a time and place she'd be for an extended time without you. Your reason for staying in: medical program information. You expected her to understand, and once you told her, you were proven right.

She left as soon as your mutual friend had arrived, waving you off as she entered the car. An unsuspecting smile on her face before she closes the car door. What she won’t know won’t hurt her.

Now was the moment to put it to action. You’d have it that Mingyu couldn’t run, couldn’t avoid you, couldn’t ignore you. And you only had a few minutes until he got back from his run.

Hastily, you slip out of your modest clothes before getting into a skimpy one, deliberately showing off your assets. You take your place on the couch to wait, using channel surfing as a way to pass time.

Hearing the sound footsteps coming up the front door made your heart race, immediately going to position yourself at the entrance. When Mingyu opens to see you on the other side, he could hear his heart drop at your ensemble. His eyes fell immediately at every tiny piece of clothing barely covering you body, feeling his member harder quickly. He quickly shuts the door before anyone else can see what he’s forced to and glares at you. “What is this?”

“Welcome home, Mr. Kim.” you answer cheekily.

“Ming—where’s Minhee?” He shoulders past you, getting to the kitchen to get a drink.

“Out,” you answer, bouncing behind him shamelessly, “I told her I had something to do while she’s gone so I could stay behind.”

“Do what,” he grits, slamming the plastic bottle on the counter, “lie to her, do something that might hurt her behind her back?”

It stings, it really did, but you lacked more morals than you realized.

“It was the only way I could get you alone.” you step in front of him, twiddling your fingers.

“What is it you want, Y/n? Haven’t you done enough to me?”

You blink at him knowingly, thinking how dare he could play a victim. “You know better than anyone that it was a two-person job. We both wanted it.”

He rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Well, it was a mistake, and I should’ve quit while I was ahead.”

“I want more, Mingyu.”

He squeezed his eyes tight, slamming the empty bottle to the floor before responding, “Why are you being like this? What is wrong with you?”

He’s angry and rightfully so, but you wanted him, so badly you’d fight for it. No one–not even Minhee–at this point could stop you.

You latch on to him, not missing his lips. You pull yourself against his sweaty, musky form until you can feel the outline of his body on yours. He forces himself to pull away with a rough tug. There’s a moment of bizarreness on his face before giving in and reconnecting your lips, furiously kissing you as he places you on the kitchen counter. His tongue is quick to find yours and pulling your top over your breasts to play with them, squeezing them harshly in his hand before tweaking your stiff peaks between his fingers.

“Mmh, daddy…please, please fuck me.”

Mingyu pauses, returning twice as rough, pressing into the sopping core that seeps out your shorts, eliciting a whine from your end. The waistband of his sweats grinds into you like he’s a machine: starved, automated, merciless.

“You want me to fuck that bad? Hmm?” He tucks your legs around him, digging in you deeper, slapping the skin of your thigh that reached your ass. “You’re gonna be a good‌ for me to use? Let me fill you up with my cock?”

“Yes, I want your cock fucking me, please,” you plead in a high-pitched voice.

“Fine. This time and never again.” he lifts you off the counter and takes you to his room. Dumping you in bed, he pulls his muscle tank off and rips off your shorts from your body.

Right then and there, he claims the heat between your legs after spitting right into the center. He devours you, jaw gripping from the underside of your folds as his tongue runs rampant in your core. His face is damp in the matter of seconds, but your nectar is all he can think about as he fists his erection through his sweatpants.

“Daddy, your mouth is so good…you’re eating me so good.”

A hand comes on the skin of your thigh again, coming as both a warning and encouragement. He gets lost in you, inhaling you, falling weak at you. He swore he never would again. He’s already done enough thinking about you from that one picnic. The way your hair bounces in the light or how your clothes hug your body as a gust of wind blows past you. You radiated such light in stark contrast to the weak, needy beauty before him. It was on so many levels wrong, but he pointed it to all factors of being sex deprived. Of course, it was normal to find a younger attractive woman sexy. She was an adult, but wasted on him finding out how closely you work with his kid, the kids he loves so much and would kill for.

But you. God, damn it, you. He wanted you just for a second and he took it, only for you to come back wanting more. A mirror image of himself. Unlike his initial findings, he has more in common with you than he thought.

“I’m close daddy!”

His tongue runs faster, harder, feeling the taste of your core go from one taste to another, feeling the cum coat his mouth like liquid gold. With a last jerk to your legs, he moves over to tower at you, prying your mouth open and dropping your fluid in your mouth, seeing it seep out of the corner of your lips before kissing you. He drags the taste around, gripping you by the chin, grunting in your mouth.

He kicks off his sweats, pulling you up by the arm, and allows you to straddle his lap. His cock prods at your stomach, flicking back at the soft section of your stomach. You run your fingers through hair, hovering on top of him, mere atoms away from putting him in you. You had the mind to ask breathlessly, “Condom?”

“I’d have to get up.”

A quick moment of panic runs through your mind. “I’m clean, but–”

“I’ll pull out. And cum anywhere else.”

You take a hard gulp, but give a definite nod. Not letting go of his embrace, allow the round tip to slide over your wet slit–sweet mewls leaving your lips–before you let your walls hug around his raw girth. Initially frightening, given that you weren’t willing to take this kind of risk before–you were a med student and staying safe and clean was rule one–but every inch cover around your walls stretches euphorically.

You let out an anguished moan adjusting to his size, but with how wet you are, it wouldn’t be a problem for long. You roll your hips down, taking him all of him, incomprehensive mumbles leaving your lips while taking strikes against your ass, stinging with every touch. “Being such a good girl for me, letting me fuck you…”

He squeezes the flesh of your cheek, teeth pulling on the bottom of your lip. “It’s my pleasure, daddy…”

God, you loved it, every second.

Minutes passed and he’s only pushed harder, plunge deeper, filling in that crevice of yours until you’re spent all over his bed. He bruises you, bites you, swelling your skin. He finally let go of all the inhibitions that once held him back. That’s when he gets close, cursing under his breath. You fall back on the bed as he pulls out, thick white ribbons shooting thin in the air to cascade over your face and chest, even on your tongue. He pants hard, unable to tear away from the decadent view he’s witnessing. You are usually lovely beyond compare, but you were absolutely breath-taking adorned by his cum.

He had to have more of you.

Although he told himself it’d be the last, that was far from the truth. Since that day, he took every opportunity to have you and without a word of defiance against you. You had your days with Minhee: breakfast, brunch, lunch, sometimes dinner. But he had you at nights, or at days the house was empty. He made it last. All of it. All of you.

Eventually, as school started up again, you’d have to leave, and he gave you one last moment in the shower to commemorate it, putting an end to this summer fling.

Despite missing Mingyu, you were excited to get back on track. You set your back in your newly leased apartment, smiling back at the memories you’ve made in the time you were away. As you were putting away the last of the things from your disgustingly big sack, your phone goes off, Minhee’s name brightly lit on the screen.

“Hey, Minhee. I just got in,” you greet grinning.

“Aw, that’s good. I think you left something behind, though.”

“Shoot,” You shuffle through your belongings, trying to think what that thing could be. “What did I leave?”

“Hard to tell, I think it’s…the truth?”

Your eyes shoot open at the sudden hostility in her voice. “Minhee, I—“

“Are you fucking my dad, you bitch?”

#svthub #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #seventeen kim mingyu #seventeen mingyu #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x reader #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x y/n

2K notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 1 year ago

Text

Call Me Babydoll

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After eyeing Patrick Bateman — your dad's best friend — for so long, you finally have the opportunity to get him in your bed. But what are you going to do when you realize that Mr. Bateman is not as pure intentioned and chivalrous as you first thought?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, non-con that transforms into dub-con, light degradation (reader is called names), use of pet names (babydoll, little girl etc), Patrick is a fucking creep and goes down on her while her father is still inside the house, corruption kink, Daddy kink, oral (f receiving), nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll X The perfect girl (slowed & reverb)

— A/N: Well, I've been thinking a lot about returning to this concept, and the time has finally come. So, for now, I intend to make this a multi-chapters series, and I hope to bring all my ideas to life! Before you read this, I highly recommend you to read the intro (link below), please enjoy!

— LINKS: [INTRO]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your heart was quivering in your chest like a caged bird, considering you had decided to take Bateman to your room while your father was still in the house doing something in his office.

As soon as you entered the room, Patrick hummed with amusement, hiding his hands in the pockets of his Armani pants. "Hmm, you like plushies, don't you?" He crooned, his voice filled with a strange excitement.

"It's none of your business, Mr. Bateman." You tried to avoid his provocation, ignoring the way your face blazed from within.

"It's Patrick, Babydoll," the pet name sent shivers down your spine. "'C'mon, I thought you already got that."

Cautiously, almost like a cat, Patrick approached you, his expensive cologne enveloping you like an intoxicating mist, messing with your thoughts in your head. Bateman couldn't deny that the more you got embarrassed, the more it fed his ego, his need for power, his primal desire.

"Why should I?" You rejoined him, pausing at your small bed, sensing his burning gaze between your shoulder blades.

He chuckled, so boyishly — you could even say it was quite cute, but this definition didn't really suit a man like him.

"Oh, dear," Patrick made that cocky sound again, before closing the mere distance between the two of you. "You know, I really like this little game of... pretending to be so fucking innocent and untouchable," Bateman punctuated the last words with a low titter right into your ear — damn, he was so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning along your skin. "But right now it's unnecessary, since I know how much of a slut you are for me."

With that, he suddenly grabbed you from behind, yanking your hair back to bring you closer, grazing your neck with his sharp fangs, and you didn't even have a chance to make a sound as his big palm was already flat on your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed in a husky voice, his heart about to burst through his chest from the sweet smell of your soft skin. "I'm sure you want this," his free hand ran shamelessly over your chest, teasing your already hard nipples, which only made him more cheeky as he mused. "Ah, Babydoll... you want to be corrupted, you want it so badly."

Hell no, you were not ready for this — Patrick's strong arms exploring your body once again, but this time more possessively since he was sure that no one could see you now. The way you shivered in his embrace made his cock twitch, and you could feel its hardness pressing against your lower back.

"Pat-Patrick," you managed to squeak softly before he pulled you into a hot, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding masterfully against yours, giving you no chance to resist, even though you were still trying. "My father—"

"Your dear father won't hear a thing if you keep quiet," he growled against your trembling lips, his self-control about to collapse at any moment as your taste drove him crazy. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

A sharp, almost choked moan escaped your lips as his warm hand snaked under your top to play with your swollen peak, twisting and pinching it, your legs giving way almost instantly and if Bateman hadn't held you tight, you would have just fallen flat on the floor. Almost affectionately, Patrick made you sit on your bed, the surrounding air electric with the fluids of lust and desire between the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he purred, kneeling down next to you, the cold metal of his gold Rolex brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, the brisk contrast in temperature forcing your toes to curl from your own arousal. "You're so sweet and cute," Patrick murmured briefly before planting a barely sensible kiss on your inner hip. "And so innocent."

"We.... We shouldn't be doing this," your breath hitched with the strange, tantalizing thrill. It was frightening, yet so fucking seductive that you were not sure whether you really wanted him to stop or never to stop. "My dad would be so mad!"

His sarcastic laugh bounced off the walls of your room. "(Y/n), you're a big girl now," he rubbed invisible circles into your tender skin, teasing you as skillfully as if he could read you like an open book. "You can make your own choices," Bateman's walnut eyes were so dark now, they glittered with undisguised lust and thirst — no one had ever looked at you like that before. "Besides, you don't have to be afraid, Babydoll. Daddy will just take a look."

"Daddy?" You asked, perplexed, but then you practically bit your tongue from the sudden burning sensation in your lower abdomen as his thumb reached your throbbing clit, rubbing it through the soft fabric of your panties.

Your shy reaction elicited a mocking chuckle from his plump lips, now curled into a super-arrogant smirk. "Uh, you're shaking already, and I barely touched you," he parted your legs wider so that your skirt was now pulled up almost to your waist. "Fuck, I really like your skirt… did you buy it in a kid's store? It looks so girlish."

"Stop it!" You scolded and strove to close your legs, but his big palm wouldn't let you.

"Or what? You gonna cry and complain to your father?" Patrick leaned down to your mound, holding your thighs tightly, and without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along your swollen lower lips, causing all your insides to cramp with unknown temptation. "I don't think he'd believe you, because you're just a little silly girl."

Enraged, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the tingling sensation of his hot tongue caught you off guard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you found yourself as hypersensitive as you had ever been. Gently, Bateman stroked your inner thighs, never losing his grip as he expected you to try to fight again, but he knew how to make you surrender, because after all — sex was his territory and he was prepared to make you vulnerable and spread out for him.

"P-Patrick," you gasped as he did that motion again, this time more persistently, your lace panties already wet from both your juices and his spit. "I... I can't—"

"Can't form words?" He snickered against your flesh, sending vibrations right to your core. "That's okay, my dear," Bateman's silky voice only made the current situation worse, as you were on the verge of losing it now and then. "But believe me, this is just the beginning. And I'm curious, what would you say when I fuck you senseless, huh?" He paired his questions with a suck on your blushing bud, leaving the squelching sound behind. You had to tilt your head and grab the nearby pillow as you felt something pulsing in your womb, like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "Fuck, if I keep going, I think I will get pussy addicted and your dad will really have to stop me."

With these words, Patrick stood up, only to throw away the pillow you were shielding yourself with, as he wanted to taste your hard nipples. Swiftly, he pulled up your top and growled as he saw your breasts popping out, his lips finding your little tip faster than you could even react. Whimpering softly, you grasped his head with how thirsty he latched onto your nipple, sucking it, trapping it between his sharp teeth, making you squeal every time he bit it, but as soon as he noticed your fingers tugging at his perfectly coiffed hair, Bateman finished his game with your tip, tugging it painfully before he mumbled:

"Keep your hands to yourself, Babydoll," he brushed your hands away roughly, but then he gave you a warm smile. "You didn't deserve to touch Daddy's hair, not yet."

After admiring the result of his work, Patrick looked around for a mirror to check his hair and fix his red tie. He didn't even say a word to you before he left. The oppressive silence hung in the air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you found it hard to breathe. The only things you could feel were shame and disgust, but thank God that bastard decided to stop and you didn't have to tell him that you were a virgin, because you couldn't even imagine how cheeky and brazen he would get when he heard that information. Panting, you could still sense the heat of his tongue between your legs, and as soon as you tried to get up, you fell back from the strange, throbbing feeling in your core. Every single part of your body where he touched you burned as if you had been consumed by fire.

What did this devil, named Patrick Bateman, do to you? Did he just bless you with the curse of being possessed by him? What would you do now to save yourself?

So many questions, so few answers.

It had been almost an hour since your father and Patrick had been drinking, discussing their business matters, and smoking their cigars in the living room of your not-so-fancy house. Embarrassed, you struggled to act natural whenever your dad asked you to bring him something, whether it was an ashtray or another bottle of whiskey, all the while keeping a straight face and ignoring all the playful glances Bateman was casting at you.

"You know, I'm so lucky to have a daughter like (y/n)," your dad suddenly declared as you handed him his favorite whiskey. "She's such a good girl, always so helpful and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Bateman murmured, grinning devilishly and scanning your trembling form with his dark eyes. "(Y/n), can you please do me a favor and bring me a glass of water?" He winked at you after puffing on his cigar.

Paralyzed for a second, you cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, of course, Patrick."

When you spoke his name, your father almost choked on his drink. "(Y/n)! Where are your manners? It's Mr. Bateman to you."

"Uh, sorry," you stammered as you watched Patrick's tongue swirl around the tip of his cigar in a way that only you could see it. "Just having a busy day… I'll bring you some water!"

With that, you stormed out of the living room faster than the speed of light, your heart pounding so rapidly that you could hear every beat in your ears. This man, oh fuck... this man made you feel so strange... so excited... so cursed.

In the kitchen you grabbed the first glass you saw and with trembling hands you started to pour some water into it, splashing it around a bit as the only thing you could see behind your eyes was his fucking tongue flickering around his cigar. And worst of all, you found yourself thinking, if his mouth felt so good on you through your underwear, what would it feel like if you were naked?

A loud clatter of broken glass echoed around the house as you felt cramps in your lower abdomen, causing you to cling to the surface of the kitchen counter. Breathing heavily, you heard footsteps approaching, and you had no idea who they belonged to.

To your dad or to your 'Daddy'?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update! Chapter 2 is here!💗

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

553 notes · View notes

giselleloversclub · 2 months ago

Text

jeno fics rec !

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

@thatsatricky1

Y/n didn’t have a lot going for her, rising student loan debt, a shared dodgy apartment and a shitty bank job that didn’t pay well. Could her life get any more downgraded? Apparently it could, in the form of a group of well known bank robbers deciding the bank she worked at was the perfect and simplest heist they could do for a change.

wc: 2k

! its just the preview i couldn't find the entire fic but just the preview is already too good !!

personal fav !

RIDIN' WITH YOU

@luvyeni

request. Can I request a biker jeno where the reader is almost ran over by him on a motorcycle and they start knocking into each other from there

streetracer!jeno x fem!reader

wc. 5.7k

! smut !

VOGUE LIKE THE LEE'S

wc : 3.3k

Genre: fluff, some angst, suggestive

lee jeno x carrie (oc)

SUMMER OF LOVE @lattaeyongs

The summer of 1997 was a weird time. As a person living in the modern era, you’d completely forgotten what it was like to live in the ‘90’s. In May 1997, you listened to the Backstreet Boys, flipped through TV Guide, and had an answering machine which seems so archaic now. But that isn’t the only reason why the summer of 1997 was weird. That summer was the time you fell for your brother’s best friend.

word count: 15.2k

personal fav !

MY FIRST AND LAST @leejenowrld

meet lee jeno, campus heartbreaker, fuckboy, secret nerd. he’s the notorious guy that everyone wants but he only wants you —a shy, introverted stranger who appeared from nowhere, turning his life upside down. what starts as a reputation-defying connection swiftly evolves from strangers to friends and to intense, immediate love. it’s a twist the two of you never saw coming, the opening of your hearts to someone unexpected. but as personal struggles and external issues threaten to derail your connection, the once-confident jeno is left shattered and ensnared in the tumult of a love story gone awry.

wc :37k

ALL NIGHT LONG

@writemekpop

You’re pregnant, and the baby’s kicking makes it impossible to sleep. Luckily, Jeno knows just how to take care of you.

Word count: <1k

AFTER ALL THIS TIME

@leejenowrld

you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

wc : 8.2k

! smut !

CRUSH CULTURE

@lulujeno

liking jeno was a mistake. kissing him didn't make it any better.

wc : 6.3k

LOVE IN A JAR

jeno loves you so much, it is hard for him not to find you in the smallest of things that surround him. he never thought he could taste love, until he fell in love with you.

bf!jeno x female!reader

wc : 1.7k

YOUR WOUNDS WRAPPED WITH MY LOVE PT2

@slytherinshua

fluff. tiny bit of angst. mafia au.

wc: 1.5k

fiancé!jeno x reader.

WHEN IT CLICKS

@lelengerine

jeno x reader

friends to lovers

wc: 1k

MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE ?

@cupofwyn

it was all self-inflicted pressure when the spotlight finally turned to you as the final member of the family to experience a love story—the miracle that has been passed down from your parents down to your siblings and the privilege of love in marriage that has been jealoused upon the ton of high society. though the world might have run out of love stories available for you when your family took it all to their delight, or so you thought.

⠀lee jeno!prince × fem!reader

wc : 10.3k

WASTED ON YOU

@ericscroptop

after a fun night out, your boyfriend takes care of you like the gentleman he is.

wc : 3.4k

bf! jeno x gf! reader

PRIVET BUT NOT SECRET @hhie

instagram story au ?

jeno x reader established relationship

SILVER PLATTER

@odxrilove

when you get confessed to in front of your friends and band members, not everyone seems to think it's funny.

jeno x fem reader

wc : ~3k

RISK PT2

@saythenametotheworld

Firmly convinced that Love-at-First-Sight is a hoax, you never expected to be proven wrong when the universe decided to throw you, quite literally, into Lee Jeno's lap.

Lee Jeno x Reader

wc : 14.7k

#Spotify #nct fic rec #nct u #nct #nct dream #nct fanfic #nct x reader #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno #jeno x reader

67 notes · View notes

starkeysmoon · 2 years ago

Text

୧ starkeysmoon’s avatar fic recs ׅ𖥔 ۫ ⋄ ᥫ᭡

includes (some of) the men of avatar — aonung, roxto, tonowari, and tsu’tey

rotxo !

lovely by @victoirey

preview: "be calm , y/n." he instructed, gently. you were meditating once again, with tsireya, lo'ak , and neteyam. you were doing good, so far — until rotxo placed his unbelievably soft hands onto your stomach to really get you to be calm. (one shot & fluff)

dating awa'atlu's resident soft boy by @jeojake

preview: rotxo takes a lot of pride in being reef na'vi—that's why he's assigned to teach the sully's despite not being tonowari's son. his abundance of knowledge and passion for his culture is invaluableand that's how the two of you meet (headcanons & fluff)

aonung !

a necklace by @neteyamslovrr

synopsis: y/n s not a well-known member of the metkayina, yet she yearns for the olo’eyktan’s son ao’nung, so she makes him a gift to show her affection towards the boy (one shot & fluff)

no ordinary love by @loakism

preview: "i love you so much that- that i'd- okay wait. let me restart. i lo-" you're rudely interrupted- far from the first or last time- by your clearly disrespectful boyfriend. his hand swats your own away from its resting place on top of his other hand. (one shot & fluff)

i see you by @aonungobsession

synopsis: you overhear aonung and his friends picking on the sully kid, and give them a taste of their own medicine. (one shot & fluff)

tsu’tey !

"dada??" " do i look-” by @victoirey

synopsis: tsu'tey as a father figure. and how he would react to being your father figure. (one shot & fluff)

domestic life with tsu’tey by @atokirina-writings

preview: you and tsu’tey grew up together as young hunters. you would train with him, fly with him, and most importantly be his best friend. (drabble & fluff)

tsu’tey being courted by a human reader by @kiiyevame

preview: after everything was said and done, you’d found the linkpod right in omatikaya territory. the others there accepted you, they weren’t heartless, and frankly you were not much of a threat. (one shot & fluff)

tonowari !

tonowari general headcannons by @harvensukehiro

synopsis: tonowari headcannons on what it would be like dating him (headcanons & fluff)

#avatar fic recs #avatar #atwow #tsu’tey #tsu’tey x reader #avatar the way of water #tonowari #tonowari x reader #aonung #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #aonung x reader #rotxo #rotxo x reader #avatar rotxo #neteyam #avatar (2009)#avatar 2022

2K notes · View notes

absolutebl · 6 months ago

Note

Do you have any recent recommendations for JBL TaiwanBL and KBL? Been rewatching only bls from 2021 2022 and I feel like I'm out of the loop for the more recent ones.

Maybe something from this year or late last year?

Great JBL, TaBL, and KBL from 2023 & first half 2024

asker added:

Genre = mostly anything. But pls avoid homophobic trauma (like Jazz for Two).

Fair. Okay here we go!

2023 Recs!

I picked mostly 9s and 10s for you with a few 8s I felt specifically might suit your taste.

I Cannot Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai

Japan Netflix

This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.

Our Dating Sim

Korea Viki

This is a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent.

I don't hand out 10/10 often (over 700 BLs watched, stil don't hvae 10 10/10s yet), these both got that from me in 2023. I consider both of them perfect BLs.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan Gaga

This style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that part is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan.

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku

Japan Gaga

A lonely salaryman (+ talented cook) gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. I was always gonna love this show if they stuck to the original yaoi (which is very dear to my heart). And they did! Paralleling it almost exactly. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me as the best of what Japan can do with softness (like Restart After Come Back Home). It’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, but that's OK with me. This is a very safe show for anyone to watch.

Jun and Jun

Korea Viki

A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. Others boys are sniffing around too. Operative word being "sniffing" as much of this romance involves smell. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and descent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching. With tons of rewatch potential (especially the last few eps), my only caution is this is for fans of the BL genre only, I don’t think it’ll work for anyone else.

Love Tractor

Korea iQIYI

Most of this country-set BL had me feral for the beautiful broken city boy and his hot young farmer. Hyung romance, puppy/cat pairing, open frankness meets jaded reserve, language play, water hose frolicking, only one bed, just all my favorite tropes. This show was basically a light-weight Restart After Come Back Home and I’m not even slightly mad about that. But (and you knew there was a “but” comg) something about the cringe of the final 2 eps and the impermanence of the ending (both of which highlight the fact that ultimately these 2 are I’ll-suited: too different and too far apart) left me with the feeling that they probably won’t last as a couple. However, in this case, rare for me, I forgive it this finale for my love of the rest.

The New Employee

Korea Viki

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss. As you do. Frankly? This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever! Directed by queer activist Kim Jho Gwang Soo (Just Friends?) partly set in the same neighbourhood as the To My Star house. Gotta love WATCHA (Semantic Error, Light on Me).

Unintentional Love Story

Korea iQIYI

OMG the plot, forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the eyes EMOTING at us in PAIN A boy who just lost his job due to faked corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was lumous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). I’m not sure on rewatchability, and it didn’t whip me into a verbal frenzy the way some KBLs do, but it still gets a solid 9/10 for those damn eyes alone.

A Breeze of Love

Korea iQIYI

Tsundere insomniac grump reunited with his sunshine jock ex (human sleeping pill) who now hates him. Basketball is also involved. While the simplicity of a reunion plot makes this more cohesive than most KBLs, it is a tad stiff and slow, never managing to lift itself out of "pretty and pretty enjoyable" - I liked it but I don’t think I’m going to remember much about it.

Bon Appetit

Korea iQIYI

Romance between an office worker the man from his past next door who cooks well. It was very sweet and cute tale of food as love in the All the Liquors family of KBL. I’m not wild about it, I did enjoy it, I was happy to have it show up on my dash, but ultimately it will simply become one of the KBL crowd.

Why R U?

(Korean adaptation of Thai original) iQIYI

Korea decided to remake, of all possible Thai BLs, Why RU? And that is exactly what we got: a short form, clean & pretty, slightly confusing, uneven chemistry, all the same tropes KBL that kind of cliff-noted the original but with none of the heat or complex relationship dynamics. I just … what world is this? Because it is BOTH bizarro land, and EXACTLY what I expected. How do I rate it? In the end I have to go back to simple questions: did I like it, would I rewatch it, and would I recommend it? Yes. Probably. And probably not. What the actual hell?

It did, however win my best kiss of 2023 which is why it's on this list.

Stay By My Side

Taiwan Viki

I wanted to pick SOMETHING from Taiwan but my other two options both had lots of trauma in them. So I'm going with this one.

This show was an interesting take on the "ghost boyfriend" trope. About a boy who is tormented by hearing the dead, except when he is around one other boy - desperation+proximity = love. Unfortunately, the story was erratic and waffled about. While the leads turned in solid performances and the sappy domesticity was off the charts, it never really had the strength of the narrative convictions such a strong concept should have supplied. Highly rewatchable and enjoyable for that sappy domesticity but not a whole lot more. Still I always give extra credit for the diabetes-inducing sugar content and rewatch capacity.

And some suggestions from 2024

I'm only suggesting stuff that has finished it's run and isn't currently airing.

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka

Japan Gaga

The promise of this show, younger cook courts older divorced office worker, should have been my catnip. I mean if someone pitched this to me in an elevator I would have downloaded it by the second storey. Unfortunately, it did not exactly fulfill that promise, not in the way I'd hoped. Did I still enjoy the ride, yes, but I feel just a little let down.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu

Japan Gaga

Kindly Ryota goes to uni and ends up rooming with his former childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend for, as it turns out, cute roommate reasons. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake, the framing is gorgeous and it is a stylish piece. As a friends to lovers cohabitation narrative this was a classic 2000s sweet yaoi. I enjoy that kind of tradition out of Japan even if it (and the characters) come off as a little slow as a result. Still, it's nice to get a traditional BL out of Japan that is satisfying, not slapstick, AND did not hurt us.

73 notes · View notes

lunarheslwt · 1 year ago

Text

Hi! Welcome to fic recs....of fics I've read over the past couple months ! I had started out doing these monthly but then life happened and I didn't read tons so basically here's everything I've read and loved over like 6-8 months? wanted to put them together for the last 28th appreciation of the year, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments!

⚡️Outside in the summertime by @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(2.2k | E | pwp)

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up in recognition, his lips curling into a smug smile. He brings his hand up to his mouth, taking a long drag, cheeks hollowing. His eyes never leave Harry as he blows out the smoke, the joint almost burnt out. Louis says nothing as he takes a last hit, holding the smoke in his mouth as he taps the end of the joint on the ashtray beside him. He beckons Harry closer with his hand, and Harry goes.

Thoughts: one word - beard burn. Why aren't you reading already?

⚡️Five zero five by @nooradeservedbetter

(2.5k | E | choking kink)

“So,” says Harry, and his fingers trail on Louis’ jaw, over his exposed neck. “I heard your cover tonight. Arctic Monkeys, really nice.” His fingers linger on Louis’ neck, stroke the Adam’s apple. (Or, they told us all they have a choking kink.)

Thoughts: stupidly hot, Louis is singing about being choked so really why wouldn't you read this

⚡️Like a fire burning in your veins by @nooradeservedbetter

(2.8k | E | pain play pwp)

But first kinks are never forgotten, so to speak, and Harry can’t help but go back to them, alone and with Louis, over and over again. Can’t help but ask for bruises and pinches and slaps, can’t help but get on his knees in a bathroom stall, mouth full of dick while Louis bites on his fingers to avoid screaming. (Or, the one with the pain.)

Thoughts: it's Harry and pain kink and hot smut and great look into his internal mindset literally what more do you want

⚡️Take the moment and taste it by @hellolovers13

(6.4k | E | meet cute and smut)

“You made him a bracelet?”

“Yeah. It’s a whole thing, people make these friendship bracelets and trade them at the shows. I got a bunch from fans while I was there, but I wanted to give Harry one, with my number on it.”

“Your number as in 28, your squad number, or your phone number?”

Louis smirked. “You know which one.”

or, Louis didn't get the chance to give Harry his bracelet in person, but Harry isn't one to leave fate alone.”

Thoughts: obsessed, cheeky Harry is such a delight, some of my fav characters I've ever read and fav smut I've ever read

⚡️True blue by maroonmoonlouis

(23k l E l established relationship)

Louis and Harry are the most codependent couple. Harry's life purpose is to take care of his omega & Louis' is to be doted on. After a few too many jabs from their friends and coworkers, Louis is determined to show Harry that he's capable of surviving on his own while Harry is certain that Louis is going to break up with him at any moment.

Thoughts: perfect, they are sickening and you'll love it, couldn't get enough of it

⚡️Let your damage, damage me by @outropeace

(57k / E / regency arranged marriage au)

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

Thoughts: I don't even have words actually, its perfect, I'll think about her for ages and firmly in my top5 fics.

⚡️Men of Steel, Men of Power by @nooradeservedbetter

(58k / E / political abo?)

Louis has one goal: survive this year unscathed to complete his grand plan, for which he has sacrificed his family, his friends. His identity. he's not expecting Alpha Harry, who manages to get under his skin and inside his heart. He suddenly has a lot more to lose, and a lot less control.

Thoughts: incredible plot, made me feel many feelings, layered characters and a story you can't put down. Bonus: animalistic sex?

⚡️Catch me if I fall by @shimmeringevil

(18k / E / enemies to lovers)

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

Thoughts: the enemies part? chef's kiss. The enemies with sexual tension part? chef's kiss. The sweet sweet lovers part? also chef's kiss. all of it really.

⚡️Don't want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit

(30k / E / royalty aranged marriage au)

It was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

Thoughts: their banter is unmatched, Harry is the sweetest little character and they're perfect just like this story is.

⚡️Makes me feel alive by @itsnotreal

(8k / E / pain kink)

Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

Thoughts: you cannot go wrong with a tattoo artist au ft pain kink. Naturally this is hot as hell so do yourself a favor!

⚡️But when we kiss by @indiaalphawhiskey

(24k / E / age difference, sugar daddy au)

Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous. “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap,” he confirmed. “Be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?” –– Or, while Harry and Louis adore the chase, they find they adore each other much, much more.

Thoughts: listen I love everything I read from this author. It left me gasping for air in the middle of the night and I don't have enough words for how perfect it is in every way. If I try I'll write an essay. Go read.

⚡️Vine ripe by @bluestgrey

(11k / E / mommy dom H, sub top L)

after a night out, Harry and Louis have a little fun.

Thoughts: Top 5 smut i have ever read, what are you doing if you haven't read it, so fucking hot and perfect I couldn't breathe etc 10/10

⚡️Apple pie baked just right by @28goldens

(99k / E / cottagecore farm boy x city boy au)

Louis has to get away. The news of his father’s terminal diagnosis, the loss of his job, and the breakup with his girlfriend leads Louis to leave for a life of slower things in the small town of Cedar Hills. His new neighbor is the Cox Family Apple Farm. Harry Styles, the oldest child of the Cox Family, might just teach him how to live life a little simpler, bake an apple pie, and breathe.

Thoughts: perfect, so warm and sweet and like a hot cup of cocoa while winter rages on outside. So comforting, I adored.

⚡️Play by the rules by @shimmeringevil

(21k / E / disaster dom au)

Fed up with the excess energy that’s wreaking havoc on his personal and professional life, Louis asks his boyfriend to dom him in the hopes that it’ll help him relax. Unfortunately, Harry is a bit of a disaster when it comes to being a dom. So, Louis decides to get creative to try and encourage the dominant side out of him.

Thoughts: best characters, the humor is top notch, and they have the most perfect dynamic. its a shimmeringevil fic, you don't wanna miss out.

⚡️Your eyes outshine the town by @insightfulinsomniac

(19k / E / christmas fic)

When a freak French snowstorm traps Harry's family in Paris, he's suddenly left flying home for a Christmas spent alone. However, everything changes after a chance encounter with an undeniably attractive, generous alpha who suggests that Harry join his family's Christmas celebrations. Against his better judgment, Harry agrees, and follows Louis back to Doncaster for the holidays. Little does he know, he'll not only become attached to the alpha, but to his entire family. Maybe his Christmas won't be as lonely as he expected. Complete and utter fluff ensues. Sappy Christmas tropes abound.

Thoughts: so utterly sweet and soft, perfect for the holidays but also if you're looking for the equivalent of hot cocoa on a rainy day. I adored it

I honestly wish I had read more, and hopefully next year I'll have actual monthly recs and more fics I devour. I'd like to send so much love to all fic writers who created something this year and even more to those that may have struggled this year. Your passion and work gives so much joy and fulfilment to so many. I'll love you forever, I hope the next year brings you so much creativity and good vibes. Anyways if you check these out please show the writers some love.

Happy new year (in advance!)

#28th appreciation #end of the year reads #fic recs #larry fic recs

120 notes · View notes

0v3rcast · 2 years ago

Text

Gnaw (6)

The bottom of the ocean is a cold, dark place. There is no light here, other than the faint glow of many bioluminescent markings on Osial's body. The sun's heat has never reached this deep, and the cold is so intense that you've shivered yourself to death repeatedly.

But with each death, you adapted. The icy temperature of these depths no longer mattered.

The crushing pressure of the deep ocean that once threatened to splinter your bones and crush you into a meatball now had no effect.

Gills just below your ribs filter oxygen into your body now that your lungs are useless.

"Great Storm, what are you thinking on so intensely?" Osial asks. "You have been silent and still for nearly three days."

You tell your newfound friend that you might have an idea of how to leave, but it will require his help.

"Of course. How may I serve my Creator?"

You ask for a bit of his flesh and explain that you gain energy from eating or from exposure to the elements.

You've already spent three days impaled through with stone spears at the bottom of the sea - you've probably absorbed plenty of energy and just need a catalyst.

His heads argue over who will be donating the required offering, but eventually settle on letting the central head bite off the very tip of its tongue.

A bit of glowing blue tongue drifts lazily on the currents and towards you. It's a chunk of flesh the size of a glass bottle, oozing a dark blue fluid.

You reach out with your unpinned arm and grip it, briefly cringing when it squirms in your grasp.

Once it's close to your mouth, you open up and bite into it quickly. This also means that you get some seawater into your mouth along with the bit of meat.

Gross.

The god-flesh isn't particularly appetizing, either. As you do your best to chew it, it writhes and twitches in your mouth. The taste is ponderously bland, though faintly fishy, and you're more than a little unsatisfied.

It takes you more time than you'd like to consume it, but once the last of it goes down, a feeling begins to flow through you.

A new sensation. Like there's a part of you that's just lost the pins-and-needles from being slept on and is back to normal.

Not just that, either. You feel revitalized, like the pains of your body are far away. You plant your palms against the seafloor, dig your fingers into the sands, and begin to rise. Osial looks delighted.

The spears of stone dig into your flesh, but you will not give up now. How can you? You feel unstoppable.

Electro energy arcs across your body and up the monstrous pillars, scorching them with such heat that they briefly glow.

You may be buried beneath the weight of a mountain... but faith can move mountains.

Through labored breathing, you ask what Osial desires most in the world.

"To sink Liyue to the bottom of the ocean, and see Morax take my place in the darkness below the waves eternally."

More personal than that.

"To hold Beisht, my beloved, in my embrace again."

...more achievable from his current position?

"Oh. Freedom, of course. To not bear these ridiculous spears in my back any longer."

And then, that new part of yourself flares to life. You smile through the pain of saltwater against open wounds and tell him you can manage that.

(Anemo smiles, eye glowing in the heart of the storm. A new bearer already? You're so kind.)

Mondstadt's suffering comes to an end, the haze of nightmarish heat finally lifting... but the winds are not the same.

The scent of sickness and rot no longer carries on the breeze because the breezes are so much milder.

Anemo visions dim, and then flare much brighter.

Less than an eighth of Mondstadt's population had succumbed to the heat, but many had become sick from an outbreak of food poisoning and the rapid onset of heat exhaustion. Others had become ill in the process of burying loved ones.

Their cries for aid went unanswered, and Venti's faith had been deeply shaken.

If their prayers were not reaching you... then who had they been worshipping all this time?

(He receives no answer, only the sounds of mourning on the wind as Mondstadt begins to burn the diseased dead.)

You stand at the bottom of the sea, hand against a stone spear weighing down Osial.

The electro in your body was refined and stretched into an axe, which you now used to hack away at the first pillar.

Every minute or so, you have him move slightly to see if the weight is becoming more manageable.

After four hours, each of them has been weakened enough for him to push off if he wasn't exhausted. Which he is.

You reach for your new power and then to Osial. Across the world, Anemo visions glow faintly. In Zapolyarny Palace, the Gnosis of the Anemo Archon unwinds into a soft breeze and vanishes.

Words come to your lips unbidden, a recital from a time you've forgotten.

"Noble beast. I, your maker, wish to form a pact with you."

Osial looks at you curiously, and then again in surprise when the Anemo Gnosis appears in your hand.

"You have shown me kindness in this dark place and given me the power to unbind us both.

You have been imprisoned beneath the waves for centuries by the one you hate the most, away from your lover, your goals just within reach but lost to you.

I have been hunted across the land I have traveled by traitorous mongrels and then abandoned here to rot alongside you.

With one look, you knew it was me. With but a single glance, you understood who now was at your side.

Your fealty to me is so very valuable, especially now."

You hold out the Anemo Gnosis in his direction.

"Become my Anemo Archon. The true God of Storms, and the symbol of destruction for all those who would rise against me."

He laughs with all five heads.

"I accept, my maker. The skies will be mine, and all who breathe beneath them will know you with reverence or know nothing ever again."

"This pact is sealed."

The sea burns bright with teal and blue light and then erupts into a monstrous storm, a hurricane screaming to life as a massive beam of energy pierces the heavens and vaporizes Guyun Stone Forest.

A new lord of the skies erupts from the sea with a joyous scream, stone pillars falling from his back, feathers and scales colored brilliantly.

"MORAX! I will have your head as a trophy for the All-Maker and your flesh as my meal! Face me and die, or watch me tear this miserable collection of insects apart like the coward you are!"

On his back is you, and in your eyes is a hunger for vengeance.

Your power fills the hurricane. Vast blades of lightning ready to fall at your command. Screaming winds coalesce around Osial. Arcs of plasma line his new fangs.

Liyue will pay for its actions, and the two of you will be collecting with interest.

((Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead @call-me-shroom @evqnescents @valeriele3 @mochicurls21 @sinnful-darling @fleshdotmp4

#genshin sagau #reader has a terrible time #sagau gnaw #genshin angst #hopefully one of you likes this #osial is a good child #quetzalcoatl osial #quetzalcosial???#whatever hes cool

369 notes · View notes

badathumanemotions · 5 months ago

Text

Blood Lust

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Category: Angst, Bit of Fluff, Mostly Smut CW: Vampires, Biting, Angst, Blood Drinking, Sort of Sub Spencer Reid, Dominate Reader, Oral (M rec.), Riding, Leaving Marks, Aftercare. WC: 7,981 Reader is turned into a vampire, she tries to get by on animal until it no longer sates her. She feels drawn to Spencer wanting his blood. She distances herself from him in fear of hurting him. Spencer is insistent on finding out and fixing what's wrong. I couldn't figure out a way to differentiate the bite that turns Reader and the regular feeding bite so just ignore that inconsistency. (Not Proof Read) Master List

Y/N hurried through the quiet streets, the chilly night air piercing through her thin jacket as she clutched the grocery bag tightly to her chest. The neon lights of the convenience store she'd just left cast a faint glow, but the shadows grew longer with each step she took away from its comforting embrace.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the alley ahead, moving with an unnatural grace that sent a shiver down her spine. He was tall, dressed in black, and his eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that was all too familiar from the cases she'd worked on at the BAU. Before she could react, he was upon her, his hand clamping over her mouth to muffle her scream.

The world went dark as he dragged her into the shadowy alley, his strength overpowering her resistance. She felt the sharp pain of fangs sinking into her neck, the warmth of his breath against her skin, and the coppery taste of her own blood filling her mouth. Panic flooded her, but it was quickly replaced by a strange, euphoric feeling that washed over her like a wave. Her body went limp, and she felt the world around her start to fade away.

When she came to, she was lying on the cold, hard ground, her neck throbbing with pain. The figure was gone, leaving only the echo of his sinister laughter in the deserted alley. She gingerly touched the bite marks, feeling the tender, swollen skin.

Her heart raced as she stumbled back to her apartment, fear and confusion swirling in her mind. The night had gone from ordinary to bizarre in the blink of an eye. Inside, she collapsed onto her couch, the groceries scattered around her. The TV flickered, casting eerie shadows across the room, but she couldn't focus on anything other than the burning thirst that had taken hold of her.

Days passed in a blur of feigned normalcy. Y/N went through the motions at work, hiding the dark circles under her eyes with copious amounts of concealer and her newfound strength with careful control.

At night, she found herself drawn to the quiet parks and deserted alleys, the urban jungle teeming with unsuspecting prey. She'd started with small animals, their blood a meager substitute for what her body truly craved.

But it wasn't enough. The thirst grew stronger with each passing day, and Spencer's scent—his warm, tantalizing humanity—was becoming an obsession she couldn't shake. She tried to keep her distance, afraid of what she might do to her best friend if she lost control. Yet, every time she saw him, the urge to sink her teeth into his neck was almost overwhelming.

During briefings, she'd stare at the steady pulse in Spencer's neck, her eyes unconsciously tracing the blue veins that lay just beneath the surface. She'd sit in her chair, her heart racing, her fangs threatening to extend as he spoke, his words a dull buzz in her ears. She'd imagine the taste of his blood, rich and potent, and the way his body would arch beneath her. The other agents didn't notice her distraction, too engrossed in their own thoughts and the grisly details of their latest case.

One evening, as they were wrapping up a particularly harrowing profile, she caught Spencer glancing at her, his gaze lingering on her neck. She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't even noticed her hand had been absently tracing the scar from her own transformation. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she quickly turned away, hoping he hadn't caught on to her secret obsession. She was seriously starting to think she was forming a kink for his long, graceful neck. It was all she could think about—how it would feel to have her teeth sink into the soft flesh, to hear the gasp of surprise followed by the sweet sound of his pulse beneath her fangs.

But she knew she couldn't let that happen. Her resolve grew stronger with every passing moment. It was becoming too much, and she had to put distance between herself and Spencer. If she didn't, she was afraid she'd give in to the hunger that gnawed at her insides. So, she started making excuses to leave early, avoiding being paired up, and taking her breaks at times when she knew he wouldn't be around.

Spencer noticed the change in her behaviour almost immediately, his eyes searching hers for answers she couldn't give. His hurt was palpable, a silent accusation that she felt in the pit of her stomach. He'd always been there for her, through thick and thin, and now she was pushing him away. But she had to protect him. If he knew what she was, he'd be in danger.

One evening, as the rest of the team packed up to leave the office, Spencer approached her desk with a hopeful smile. "Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if you'd like to come over tonight. We could order pizza, maybe watch a movie?"

Her heart clenched at the genuine warmth in his eyes, and she felt a pang of guilt for the way she'd been acting. But she knew she couldn't risk it. The hunger was too strong, especially when she was around him. "I'm sorry, Spencer," she said, her voice tight. "I can't. I've got a lot on my plate tonight."

Spencer's smile faltered, and she saw the flicker of hurt in his gaze. "Is everything okay?" he pressed, his concern unmistakable. "You've been acting weird lately."

Y/N's jaw tightened, and she forced a smile that felt brittle on her lips. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a lot going on." She packed up her things, avoiding his eyes. "But thanks for the offer. Maybe another time."

Spencer watched her leave with a frown, his concern deepening. He'd noticed that she'd been paler than usual, and she'd lost weight. The dark circles under her eyes were a contrast to her normally vibrant features, and she'd been more irritable and distant. It was as if she was hiding something, and it was eating away at him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something wrong, that he'd unknowingly hurt her. His mind raced with possible scenarios, trying to piece together what could have changed so drastically in such a short time. He knew he couldn't just let it go, not when it came to Y/N. They'd been through too much together, and he refused to let her slip away without a fight.

So, Spencer started doing little things for her, hoping to bridge the gap that had opened between them. He'd slip a steaming cup of her favourite coffee onto her desk first thing in the morning, the rich aroma wafting up to greet her. He'd bring her books he thought she'd enjoy, leaving them on her chair with a sticky note that read, "Thought you might like this." He even picked up a small, intricate trinket from a local antique shop that reminded him of a case they'd solved together—a tiny, gleaming star with a hidden compartment. It was a subtle reminder of their shared history, a silent plea for her to open up to him.

Y/N's heart ached every time she saw his thoughtful gestures. The kindness in his eyes was almost too much to bear. She knew she was hurting him, and she hated it, but she also knew that the truth would only make things worse. So, she accepted his gifts with forced smiles, her hand shaking slightly as she took the warm mug of coffee, feeling the heat seep into her cold skin.

Her nightly hunts grew more desperate. The animal blood no longer sated the ravenous hunger that gnawed at her insides. She'd wake up in cold sweats, dreaming of Spencer's neck, his pulse beating like a siren's call. Each day, it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to just give in, to take what she needed from him. She tried to focus on her work, throwing herself into the cases, hoping that the adrenaline rush would dull the pain, but it was a futile effort.

The smell of Spencer's blood was everywhere—lingering in the air around him. It was a constant torment, a reminder of what she was now. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to tell him. The fear of losing her job, of being studied and locked away, was too great. So, she suffered in silence, her strength waning as the days went on. Her body craved the rich, potent taste of human blood, and specifically, Spencer's.

One night, as she prowled the streets, her senses heightened to an unbearable degree, she stumbled upon a bar fight. The scent of blood was thick in the air, and the sound of breaking glass and grunts of pain was music to her ears. She approached cautiously, her eyes scanning the chaos for an opportunity to satisfy her hunger without killing..

Her eyes fell on a man stumbling away from the main scuffle, his arm gushing with blood from a deep gash. He was perfect—alone, inebriated, and unlikely to remember the encounter. She moved swiftly, slipping into the shadows as she approached him, her fangs elongating with anticipation. But as she was about to make her move, she saw Spencer's face superimposed over the man's, and she froze.

The clarity hit her like a sledgehammer. If she didn't get away from here, she'd end up attacking someone, and it could so easily be Spencer. She couldn't risk it. Her humanity was slipping away, and with it, any hope of maintaining the friendship she cherished most.

Y/N stumbled her way home, the thirst gnawing at her with feral intensity. She clung to the hope that somehow, she'd find the strength to resist. But the moment she reached her apartment complex, she knew she was in trouble.

Spencer was waiting outside her door, his eyes full of worry and a hint of suspicion. He'd probably noticed the way she'd been avoiding him and had come to check on her. Her heart sank. He was the last person she wanted to see in her current state, especially when the scent of his blood was driving her mad with desire.

"Y/N," he called out softly, "are you okay?"

Her eyes snapped to his, the hunger warring with the guilt and fear in her gaze. She tried to shake her head, to tell him to leave, but her mouth was dry, her voice a mere whisper. Spencer's eyes searched hers, and she knew he saw the turmoil within.

With a sigh, he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to her. "Please, let me in. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Y/N's hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, her eyes never leaving his. The hunger was a monster inside her, demanding to be fed, and she knew if she let him in, she might not be able to resist. But she was so tired of lying, of hiding. The weight of her secret was crushing her, and she craved his understanding more than anything.

With a defeated sigh, she opened the door and tried to shut it in his face, but she was too weak. Her body was screaming for sustenance, and she could feel the warmth of his blood from where she stood. Spencer's eyes narrowed, and he gently pushed the door open, stepping into her apartment. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

Her knees buckled, and she stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor. Spencer rushed to her side, his hand on her shoulder, his pulse beating a rhythm she desperately wanted to sync with. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and fear. "I can't tell you," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You wouldn't understand."

Spencer's gaze searched hers, and she could see the wheels turning in his brilliant mind. "You're not making any sense," he said, his voice filled with concern. "What's happening to you?"

Y/N's eyes fell to his neck, and she swallowed hard, trying to push down the hunger that was building within her. "It's…complicated," she managed, her voice thick with need.

Spencer's eyes followed her gaze, and understanding dawned on his face. "You're not okay, are you?" He leaned in, his hand moving to cup her cheek. "You're not well, and you're hiding it from me."

Her eyes searched his, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek. "I don't want to be this," she murmured. "I don't want to be a monster."

Spencer's grip on her cheek tightened slightly, his thumb wiping away the tear. "You're not a monster," he said firmly. "You're my friend, and I trust you. Whatever it is, we can figure it out together."

The sincerity in his voice almost broke her. She wanted to believe him, wanted to confide in him. But the fear of his rejection was too great. "You don't know what you're saying," she protested weakly. "You don't know what I've become."

Spencer's eyes searched hers, and she saw the determination in them. "Tell me," he urged. "I've seen a lot of things, Y/N. Nothing you say will change how I feel about you."

With trembling hands, she reached up and pushed him away gently. "You don't understand," she whispered, her eyes pleading. "I'm dangerous."

Spencer leaned back, his eyes searching hers. "Dangerous how?"

Her breath hitched in her chest, and she forced the words out. "I'm a vampire, Spencer."

The silence that followed was deafening. Spencer's hand fell away from her face, and his eyes widened in shock. "A… a what?" he stuttered, the color draining from his cheeks.

Y/N nodded, her gaze never leaving his. "A vampire," she confirmed, her voice barely a whisper. "I was attacked a weeks ago, and now… now I crave human blood."

Spencer stared at her, his mind racing with a thousand questions. But instead of the horror or revulsion she'd feared, she saw something else in his eyes—curiosity. "Is that why you've been so distant?" he asked, his voice still calm.

Y/N nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. She'd expected disbelief, fear, maybe even disgust. But Spencer just looked… intrigued. "I didn't want to scare you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Or for you to think I'm some kind of freak."

Spencer's eyes searched hers, and she could see the cogs turning in his mind. He was piecing things together, considering the evidence. "You're not a freak," he said, his voice firm. "You're still you."

Y/N couldn't believe his calmness. It was as if he was analyzing a case, not the fact that his best friend had just confessed to being a creature of the night. "How can you be okay with this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Spencer took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Because I've seen worse, Y/N," he said gently. "I've seen people do unspeakable things in the name of sanity. If this is what happened to you, if this is what you are now, I'm not going to abandon you."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. No one had ever accepted her unconditionally like this, not even when she'd confessed her darkest secrets. "But I could hurt you," she whispered. "I could—"

Spencer cut her off with a firm shake of his head. "You won't," he said, his voice filled with unwavering belief. "You're stronger than you think, and we'll find a way to manage this together."

Y/N stared at him, her eyes wide with shock and a hint of disbelief. Why wasn't he running? Why wasn't he screaming for her to stay away? The ease with which he accepted her new reality was unnerving, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was just trying to placate her, if he was just biding his time until he could report her to the proper authorities. But the sincerity in his gaze was too much to dismiss, and she felt the first glimmer of hope in what felt like an eternity.

"Thank you," she murmured, the words thick with emotion. "But it's not that simple. I can't just tell everyone. They'll think I'm crazy, or worse, they'll lock me up and study me."

Spencer nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I understand," he said. "But you can't keep going like this, Y/N. You need to feed, and I don't want you to hurt anyone else."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of fear or revulsion. But all she saw was compassion and concern. "I don't want to," she admitted, her voice cracking. "But the hunger is so intense, and I've been trying to hold out, to not give in to the urge."

Spencer's hand slid from her cheek to her neck, his thumb ghosting over the pulse that beat steadily beneath his fingertips. "You're starving yourself," he murmured. "That's not the answer."

Y/N's eyes filled with unshed tears. "What choice do I have?" she asked, her voice raw with pain. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Spencer. I've seen what they do to people like me in the cases we've worked on. I can't let that happen."

Spencer took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew what he was about to say was risky, but he couldn't stand by and watch her suffer. "Feed on me," he offered, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. "Let me help you."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock, her fangs elongating slightly at the thought. "What? No, Spencer, I can't," she protested, her voice shaking. "I can't risk hurting you."

But Spencer's resolve was unwavering. "You won't," he insisted, his eyes filled with a gentle conviction. "You're in control, and I trust you. You need this, and I want to help."

With trembling hands, Y/N reached up to cup Spencer's cheeks, her thumbs brushing against the stubble that lined his jaw. His eyes searched hers, and she knew he meant it. He was offering himself to her, willingly, without fear. It was a gift she hadn't dared to hope for, and she couldn't refuse it.

Slowly, she leaned in, her breath hot against his skin. She could feel the pulse of his blood, the life force that called to her in a way nothing else ever had. Spencer's eyes closed, his breath hitching slightly as he tilted his head to the side, exposing the long line of his neck. The scent was intoxicating, and she knew she was lost.

With a gentle nudge, he guided her head to the spot just above his collarbone, the vein pulsing beneath his skin like a siren's song. Her fangs ached to pierce his flesh, to finally taste the sweet elixir she'd been denying herself for so long. With trembling hands, she held onto his shoulders, her breaths coming in short gasps as she tried to maintain some semblance of control.

Spencer felt the tip of her fangs graze his skin, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He knew this was a moment that would change everything between them, but his concern for her overrode his fear. He took a deep breath and whispered, "Do it."

With a gentle sigh, Y/N sank her teeth into the soft flesh of Spencer's neck. The instant her fangs pierced his skin, a wave of euphoria washed over her, a sensation so intense it bordered on sexual. Spencer's blood was a symphony of flavors—sweet and warm, with a hint of something rich and metallic. She'd never tasted anything so potent, so alive. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips as she took her first real drink.

Spencer's body went rigid with shock, but then he relaxed, his breathing deepening. The pleasure that flooded through him was unexpected, a warmth that spread from the bite site and pooled in his groin. His eyes rolled back in his head, and a soft sound of contentment slipped from his lips. The sensation was so overwhelming, it was almost as if he could feel her hunger, her need, and it filled him with a strange, heady power.

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as she drank from him, the warmth of his blood suffusing her cold body. It was everything she'd been craving, and she felt her strength returning with every swallow. The taste was heavenly, the rush of his life force more intoxicating than any drug she'd ever encountered. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, and she felt his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips.

But then she felt something else—a pressure against her thigh. Spencer's body was responding to the intimate act in a way she hadn't anticipated. He was getting hard. The realization sent a thrill through her, mingling with the hunger and the pleasure of the feeding. She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his for any sign of discomfort or fear. But all she saw was the same gentle concern, the same unwavering trust.

Y/N swallowed hard, her own body responding to the sudden shift in the atmosphere. She couldn't ignore the heat that had started to build between them, the way her own breath had quickened. Her grip on his shoulders tightened as she straddled his lap, her legs trembling with the effort of restraining herself from biting deeper.

The air around them was electric, every touch a spark that set their nerves alight. Spencer's hands slid up her back, his thumbs tracing the outline of her spine, sending shivers down her body. She moaned against his neck, the sound muffled by the mouthful of blood that she was trying to swallow.

Her eyes flew open, and she saw the dark hunger in his gaze. He wasn't just okay with this; he was enjoying it. The realization sent a jolt of arousal through her.

Slowly, she licked the puncture wounds on his neck, her tongue swiping over the crimson beads of blood that lingered there. His skin was warm and salty under her tongue, and she felt his pulse steady as the wounds closed under her ministrations.

It was so erotic to Spencer, the way she tended to him with such care, the intimacy of her mouth on his skin. His body responded to the sensation, his arousal growing with every passing second. He had never felt so alive, so connected to someone.

Y/N felt the shift in Spencer's demeanour, the way his hands slid down to her hips, urging her closer. The pressure between her legs grew more insistent, and she couldn't help but lean into it. She pulled away from his neck, her eyes meeting his, and for a moment, she was lost in the depths of his gaze. And then, without a word, she claimed his mouth with hers.

The kiss was fiery, fueled by the potent cocktail of blood and desire. Spencer's arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his chest as their tongues danced together. Her hips began to rock against his, the friction of their clothes providing a delicious form of torment.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N panted heavily, her eyes half-lidded with passion. She felt the desperate need to feel his skin against hers, to erase the barriers that still remained.

Spencer seemed to understand, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt. His eyes searched hers for permission, and she nodded eagerly, her cheeks flushed with arousal. He lifted the fabric over her head, revealing the black bra that barely contained her breasts. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before his gaze returned to her eyes.

Y/N felt a pang of insecurity. What if this was all just a side effect of the bite? What if Spencer didn't actually feel the same way she did? She'd harboured a secret crush on him for so long, and now that they were crossing this line, she didn't know if it was real or just the influence of her vampiric nature.

"Spencer," she whispered, her voice still thick with the aftertaste of his blood. "Do you… do you really want this?"

He searched her eyes, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the fog of desire. "More than anything," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "But only if it's what you want, too."

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion. It was real. Spencer truly desired her, not just because of the vampiric allure. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over the stubble. "I want this," she assured him, her voice a breathy whisper. "But I'm afraid…afraid of what the bite does to people."

Spencer's eyes searched hers, understanding dawning. "You think it's just the blood lust?"

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. "I don't want to manipulate you," she whispered, her voice tight with anxiety. "I don't want you to feel something you don't truly feel."

Spencer's hand stilled on her hip, his gaze never leaving hers. "I'm not a puppet, Y/N," he assured her, his voice firm. "My feelings are my own, and right now, all I can think about is how much I want you."

The sincerity in his words washed over her, easing the fear that had taken root in her chest. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his as she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. It fell away, and Spencer's gaze dropped to her breasts, his pupils dilating with desire.

With trembling hands, he traced the contours of her rib cage before cupping her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her sensitive nipples. Y/N arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sensation was exquisite, a stark contrast to the painful thirst that had been consuming her.

Spencer's eyes never left hers as he leaned in, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasped, her back arching further, as he sucked and teased the sensitive peak. His other hand slid up her spine, tangling in her hair as he held her to him.

The feeling of his warm, wet mouth on her was intoxicating, and she couldn't help but moan as he switched to the other side, giving it the same attention. His teeth grazed the sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

With newfound strength, Y/N's hands slid down to the button of Spencer's shirt, her nails scraping against the fabric as she yanked it open. Buttons flew in every direction, and she didn't care. She needed to feel his bare skin against hers, to claim him as surely as he'd allowed her to claim his blood.

Her eyes raked over his chest, taking in the sight of his muscles, the smattering of freckles she'd never noticed before. Her hunger shifted, morphing from the need for blood to a desperate craving for his touch. She leaned in, her teeth grazing the soft skin of his neck, and Spencer's grip on her hips tightened.

Suddenly, she pushed him back with surprising strength, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilating with a mix of arousal and curiosity.

"You're mine," she murmured, her eyes flashing with a predator's possession. "Mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to…consume."

Spencer's eyes darkened with desire, his body responding to the primal claim in her voice. He didn't resist, his wrists flexing against the floor as she held him in place. The power exchange was as intoxicating as the blood they'd shared.

Y/N leaned down, her mouth hovering just above his. "And you're mine," she whispered, before claiming his lips in a kiss that was both demanding and gentle. Spencer's body responded eagerly, his hips bucking up to meet hers.

Her hands moved with surprising speed and strength, ripping his belt from its loops with a sound that echoed through the silent apartment. The leather strap slapped against the floor, forgotten as she tugged at his pants, desperation driving her to get him naked as quickly as possible. She needed to feel all of him, to possess him in every way she could.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, but his body responded eagerly to her urgency. He lifted his hips to help her, his mind racing to keep up with the sudden turn of events. He felt exposed, vulnerable, but the thrill of it only added to the intense arousal coursing through him.

Her tongue was like liquid fire, tracing the length of his erection with a slow, deliberate stroking motion that had him groaning into her mouth. She took her time, savouring every inch of him before finally drawing the tip into her mouth, sucking gently. Spencer's hips jerked upwards, and he couldn't hold back the low moan that escaped his throat.

Looking down, he saw her fangs poking out slightly, and a dangerous thrill shot through him. He'd never felt so alive, so connected to another being. The sight was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

Her mouth was warm and wet, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock as she took him in deeper. She sucked hard, and Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head. Her grip on his hips was like steel, holding him down, keeping him from thrusting into her mouth. He could feel the power in her, the strength of her newfound nature, and it was intoxicating.

Spencer's hands tangled in her hair, his hips straining against her grip. He didn't know if he wanted to push her away or pull her closer. The feeling was overwhelming, his body responding to her touch in ways he'd never experienced before.

With a low growl of warning, she removed one hand from his hips and taking a hold of his wrists. "No," she murmured against his skin. "You're mine to pleasure, not to touch."

Spencer couldn't help but whimper at the loss of contact, his body straining for more. The hunger in her eyes was matched only by the need in his own, and the sight of her fangs elongating slightly was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. He'd never felt so alive, so vulnerable, and it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. The scrape of her fangs against his inner thigh was a delicious warning, a reminder of the power she held over him. And with every touch, every suckle, every flick of her tongue, the barrier between them crumbled a little more.

The room was thick with the scent of their desire, the warmth of their bodies mingling with the faint metallic tang of his blood that still lingered in the air. Y/N's eyes never left his as she took him deeper, her mouth moving in a rhythm that had him panting and begging for more. His hips bucked, trying to match her pace, but she kept him pinned, her grip unyielding.

And then, she began to hum, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure zipping up Spencer's spine. He arched off the floor, a strangled cry escaping his lips as the sensation grew more intense. It was as if she'd found a button that no one had ever touched before, a spot that sent his body spiralling out of control.

Her mouth grew wetter, sloppier, as she sucked him with an insatiable hunger that mirrored the thirst she'd felt earlier. Spencer could feel the tension coiling in his belly, his body tightening with every stroke of her tongue. He was so close, so very close, and he didn't know if he could hold on much longer.

Y/N's eyes never left his, the dark pupils blown wide with desire as she felt him get closer to the edge. She held her head down on him, her cheeks hollowing with every suck. The sound of her mouth on his skin was obscene, wet and sloppy, and it only served to drive him further into a frenzy.

Spencer could feel his orgasm building, his body tightening as the pleasure grew too intense to bear. He tried to warn her, his breaths coming in harsh pants, but she only took him deeper, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock. And then, with a final, desperate thrust of his hips, he came.

The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before—his body arching off the floor, his back bowing as he spilled into her mouth. Y/N swallowed greedily, her eyes never leaving his, the intensity of the moment searing through any remaining inhibitions.

The sudden shift in their dynamic was palpable as she sat back on her haunches, her eyes blazing with a feral hunger that was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying. Spencer's eyes fell to her chest, the sight of her bare breasts rising and falling with each heavy breath she took, the points of her fangs still peeking over her bottom lip.

Without another word, Y/N reached down and shimmied out of her pants and underwear in one fluid motion. Spencer watched, his own arousal growing with every inch of bare skin revealed. And then she was over him, straddling his hips, her own wetness coating her thighs.

Her eyes never left his as she lowered herself onto him, his cock sliding into her with a wet heat that made him groan. Spencer's eyes went wide with shock and pleasure, his body jerking with the sudden intrusion. It was a moment of pure, unbridled passion, and he could feel every inch of her as she engulfed him completely.

He watched, transfixed, as she leaned down and pinned his wrists to the floor once again, her strength surprising him even as his body responded eagerly to her dominance.

Her hips began to move, rocking against his with a ferocity that seemed to belie her earlier weakness. Spencer felt his heart race, his body straining to keep up with the pace she set. Her eyes held his, a fiery determination burning in their depths.

The pressure built inside him, the friction of their bodies driving him closer and closer to the edge again. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her own orgasm just out of reach. And then she leaned down, her teeth grazing his neck once more. The threat was there, the promise of another bite, and it was all he could do not to beg for it.

Spencer's hips jerked upwards, meeting her thrusts with a desperation that surprised him. The pain-pleasure of her fangs against his skin was a heady mix, one that had him panting and straining against her.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. "Please…"

Her fangs grazed his neck once more, the pressure almost unbearable. Spencer's body was on fire, his blood racing through his veins with the anticipation of the bite. He'd never felt so alive, so utterly consumed by desire. He arched his neck, silently begging for the release he knew her bite would bring.

Y/N's eyes danced with mischief as she leaned in, her full lips brushing against his pulse point. She kissed the spot tenderly, her tongue flicking out to taste the salty-sweetness of his skin. Her teeth scraped lightly against the sensitive flesh, and Spencer's hips bucked, his body desperate for the painful ecstasy of her fangs.

He felt her smile against his neck, the pressure increasing just enough to make him whine. "Please," he begged, his voice a raw rasp.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "Patience, Spencer," she murmured, her voice a low purr that sent shivers down his spine. She kissed her way down his neck, nibbling at the soft skin, her fangs scraping against his collarbone.

The wet sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of passion that seemed to echo off the walls. Spencer's eyes rolled back in his head, his hips bucking up to meet her with every downward thrust. He could feel her tightening around him, her walls pulsing with the need for release.

Y/N's movements grew more erratic, her breasts bouncing with the force of their lovemaking. Spencer's gaze was drawn to the sight, the way her nipples had hardened into tight points, begging for his touch.

He tried to tug his wrists free, desperate to run his hands over her body, to feel her soft skin against his own. But her grip was like iron, unyielding and unbreakable. It was a stark reminder of the power she now wielded, and it only served to make him want her more.

Spencer lay back, his body stretched taut with need, as Y/N continued her relentless rhythm. Her movements grew more frenzied, her hips grinding against his in a delicious dance of dominance. His eyes fell shut, his head lolling back as the pleasure built within him.

The sound of her moans grew louder, filling his ears and fueling his own desire. He could feel the tension coiling in his belly, his body straining towards the precipice of release. He arched his neck, baring his throat to her, the silent plea clear.

And then, with a snarl of pleasure she bit down. Spencer's eyes shot open, the sensation of her fangs piercing his skin unlike anything else he'd ever felt. The pain was a white-hot brand, searing through him, but it was quickly swamped by the rush of pleasure that followed. His orgasm hit him like a freight train, his body convulsing as he came harder than he ever had before.

He felt his vision swim, the edges of his consciousness going dark. But even as the world around him blurred, he could feel the warmth of her mouth on his neck, the way she licked greedily at the blood that flowed from the wound she'd made. His hips jerked, his body responding to the pleasure that flooded him with every pulse of his heart.

The sound of her moan was like music to his ears, a symphony of desire that matched the tempo of his own racing heart. Spencer could feel her body tighten around him, the walls of her sex pulsing as she took her own release.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she threw her head back, a keening cry tearing from her throat. The sensation of her climax was like nothing he'd ever felt before—it was as if she was squeezing him from the inside out, her body milking every last drop of pleasure from him.

And then she collapsed against his chest, her breaths coming in heavy pants that matched his own. Spencer felt the sticky warmth of their combined releases on his stomach, a tangible reminder of the intimacy they'd just shared.

Her head rested on his shoulder, and Spencer wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. The beat of his heart was like a drum in his ears, a steady rhythm that matched the pulse of the blood that still flowed through her veins.

Y/N felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. The world had gone quiet, save for their ragged breaths and the distant sounds of the city outside. It was a peace she hadn't felt in a week, not since the night she'd been turned.

Looking up, she stared into Spencer's eyes, searching for any sign of regret, any hint that he was feeling coerced. But what she found instead was admiration. His gaze was filled with a newfound respect, awe even, at her strength and control. It was a heady feeling, one that filled her with a warmth.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, her voice filled with genuine concern. "Do you need anything?"

Spencer's eyes searched hers, his chest still heaving from the exertion. He felt…sated. More than that, he felt alive in a way he hadn't since he'd learned about her condition. "I'm…good," he managed, his voice still a bit shaky. "Just…wow."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at his response. She pulled back to look at the bite marks on his neck, already starting to heal.

And then she saw them. The bruises. They were faint, but they were there—a smattering of dark purple and blue blossoms scattered across his neck, chest, and wrists. The evidence of her hunger, of the power she hadn't been able to fully control.

Y/N's eyes widened in horror, her smile fading as she took in the marks she'd left on Spencer's body. She'd been so lost in the haze of passion, the desperate need to satisfy her thirst, that she hadn't noticed the damage she'd done. Her stomach twisted into a knot, and she scrambled off of him, her eyes darting to the various points of impact.

"Oh my god," she breathed, her voice shaking. "Look what I've done to you."

Spencer's eyes searched hers, his expression gentle as he reached up to cup her face. "I'm fine, Y/N," he assured her, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped her eye. "I'm more than fine."

But she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that had settled in her gut. She'd taken so much from him—his blood, his trust, his body. And now she'd left him marked, marred by her hunger. "I didn't mean to," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Spencer sat up, reaching for her. "You didn't," he said firmly, his eyes searching hers. "It's fine, I promise."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes wide with fear and regret. "But the bruises," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to leave them. I'm so sorry."

Spencer's gaze fell to the faint marks on his hips, the fingerprints standing out like dark little badges of their shared passion. He reached down and gently traced one with his thumb, his eyes meeting hers. "I like them," he murmured, his voice low and serious. "They're a reminder of what we shared."

The tension in the room shifted, and Y/N felt a swell of relief wash over her. "You liked it?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Spencer nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I did," he admitted shyly, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. "It was…different. But in a good way."

Y/N searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deceit or discomfort, but all she saw was truth. The revelation took her by surprise, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest. She hadn't expected him to be okay with her dominance, let alone enjoy it.

Spencer's voice grew softer, his eyes never leaving hers. "I liked feeling…claimed," he confessed, his cheeks flushing deeper. "It was like nothing I've ever experienced before."

The admission hung in the air, thick with emotion. Y/N felt a strange mix of relief and excitement, her eyes roaming over the bruises she'd left on his body. They were a map of their desire, a testament to the intensity of their encounter.

With a gentle touch, she helped Spencer to his feet, her vampiric strength supporting his wobbly legs. "You need to sit down," she said firmly, guiding him towards her bedroom. "I'll grab my first aid kit." She could see the marks on his wrists and hips, stark against his pale skin, and she felt a pang of regret. But she knew she had to make sure he was okay, that she hadn't hurt him too badly.

Once he was seated on the edge of her bed, she disappeared into the bathroom, her movements quick and efficient. The sound of her rummaging through cabinets was the only noise in the apartment, save for their heavy breaths. Spencer leaned back, his eyes never leaving the doorway, watching her silhouette as she moved in the light from the hallway.

When she returned, she was holding a small first aid kit, her eyes filled with a gentle concern that made his heart ache. She knelt before him, her knees pressing into the plush carpet, and took his hand in hers. Her touch was cool and soothing, the perfect balm to the heat that still lingered in his veins.

Gently, she unfurled his fingers and began to rub the soothing cream into the bruises on his wrists. The pressure was just right, firm enough to work out the tension but gentle enough to be comforting. Spencer watched her, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face, the concentration in her gaze as she worked.

Her touch was tender, the pads of her thumbs moving in slow, soothing circles against his skin. He couldn't help but lean into her touch, his eyes slipping shut as she worked. The cream smelled faintly of lavender, a scent that seemed to fill the room and ease the last of the tension from his body.

When she was done with his wrists, she moved down to the bruises on his hips. Spencer's breath hitched as her cool fingers traced the marks she'd left there, the pressure slightly firmer as she worked. He could feel the heat of his own arousal stirring again, despite the recent release.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks burning. "Y/N, you don't have to… I can do that," he mumbled, his voice thick with embarrassment. His cock had begun to harden again, the sight of her kneeling before him, her eyes filled with such tender concern, sending a fresh wave of desire crashing through him.

But she just shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. "Let me," she murmured, her voice a soft command. And Spencer found that he couldn't deny her, couldn't bring himself to pull away from the gentle ministrations of her hands.

He watched as she squeezed a dollop of the cream onto her fingertips, the cool gel glistening in the soft light. The sight of her touching him so intimately, caring for him in such a primal way, had his erection thickening even more. He felt a flush creep up his neck, his face growing hot.

"Y/N," he started, his voice cracking slightly. "You don't have to—"

But she didn't let him finish, her eyes flicking up to meet his before returning to the bruises she was tending to. "Spencer," she said firmly, her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down his spine. "Let me take care of you."

He swallowed hard, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "I'm fine," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really."

Y/N's eyes searched his, looking for any sign of pain or discomfort. Finding none, she nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice soft. She leaned back, her hands dropping to her sides. "But if you need anything, I'm here."

Spencer reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer. He just wanted to hold her, to bask in the afterglow of what they'd just shared. It was a feeling he hadn't expected, a gentle peace that seemed to wrap around him like a warm blanket. He could feel the steady throb of her pulse beneath his fingertips, the reassuring beat that reminded him she was alive, that she was with him.

Her body melded against his, and he felt her sigh contentedly, the tension in her muscles easing as she relaxed into his embrace. Spencer's heart swelled in his chest, the warmth of her skin seeping into his own. He didn't know what the future held for them, but in that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the here and now, the way she felt in his arms.

51 notes · View notes