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roosterforme · 1 month

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With an uncertain future, Bradley gets ready to leave for Virginia. But he works on a plan to make sure you understand just how much he will be thinking about you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the stationery set. At this point, the only thing on his mind was quitting his job so the two of you didn't have to be separated. The paper looked expensive; he would have loved to sit in his bunk and write line after line to you and your class, but he wouldn't be able to do that at all.

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, giving him a little squeeze. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

He felt guilty even though he had no control over the scenario. His heart hurt with loneliness already as he set the gift you gave him on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. "Gorgeous. That's not gonna happen." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm confused," you said, hand still on his leg. He covered your fingers with his rougher ones and pulled gently until you climbed onto his lap.

"Oh, god," he groaned, giving you a kiss before linking his fingers with yours. "I love that set of note cards. I would have taken them with me everywhere during my free time, and I would have written to your class constantly. And you would have been the recipient of some rambling love notes to be sure." Your brow was still creased with concern as he said, "No outside communication. For seven weeks."

Your expression went slack as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley held onto your fingers as you whispered, "This keeps getting worse," through more tears. Your broken voice made his chest ache as you leaned closer until your cheek was resting on his shoulder. "I could go ages without you in person, but if I can't talk to you at all... Bradley."

Nobody else ever loved him the way you did. He'd be miserable without your letters, emails, dirty pictures and pretty face over video calls, but he finally had someone who would miss him equally.

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his arms around you. "It's seven weeks of nothing."

You were crying in earnest now as you clung to him. "Nothing," you sobbed. "I won't even know if I'm supposed to collect you in San Diego or Norfolk when your deployment ends. And I won't know where you're being stationed."

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gorgeous, when I tell you that nobody would have much cared where I ended up before I met you, I mean it." He kissed you as you snuggled tighter against him. "As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll let you know."

"Seriously," you murmured, voice shaky. "You better tell me as soon as possible if it's San Diego or Norfolk in my future."

Bradley didn't know what else to say besides, "I fucking love you." He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as he added, "Are you really going to fly out to Norfolk and collect me if they make me stay in Virginia?"

You pulled away from him, eyes puffy with a scandalized look on your face as you said, "Of course. What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?"

The kind he was going to upgrade to his wife.

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

When you finally stopped crying, you were on the verge of a migraine, but you felt a bit calmer. Bradley got up to gather together some Advil, a glass of water, and a small gift wrapped in hideous paper.

"Your early Christmas present," he said, handing it to you after you swallowed two pills for your headache. "Well, it's actually kind of another gift for me, when you really think about it." He dropped down onto the couch again with his arm slung around your shoulders, and unlike him, you tore into the paper. Inside was a leather journal with little hand painted airplanes all over it. "Will you write in it every day so I can read it when I see you again?"

When you opened it to the first page, he had written you a note.

Gorgeous, I miss you with my whole heart. I can't wait to read about all of your adventures when I get home to you. Love, Bradley

"Yes," you whispered, closing it again so you could wrap your arms around his waist. "It'll just be a bunch of pages of me telling you how I argued with Jayden about his sloppy handwriting and how I asked Nia a hundred times to return to her seat. But yes, I'll write in it every day for you."

"I will eat up every page."

After that, he kept you by his side for the rest of the night. Even when you tried to dig around in the refrigerator to see if there was any food left, he was grabbing for you and kissing you. "You have no food," you said with a laugh, turning to face him. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Hadn't thought that far," he muttered against your lips. "Just want you."

You took his face in your hands and ran your thumb along his scars. "If you don't eat, you'll get cranky. And you've got aircraft carrier food in your future."

Bradley grimaced and muttered, "Cabbage rolls," as he reached for his phone. "Let's get pizza today. And then maybe I'll try to talk the hostess at Salvatore's into letting us get takeout tomorrow. Then Thai on Christmas."

"And then you'll be gone," you whispered, dreading it all over again. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"You're stuck with me, Gorgeous," he said, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of apprehension.

"I am." You kissed him before you said, "Pizza sounds perfect. Then I can help you pack a little more."

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

The last thing Bradley wanted to do was finish packing his duffle, but every time you looked up at him, eyes full of emotion, he was struck by several things. One, you really were so good at folding up his uniform components, something he noticed a few days ago. Two, every minute or so, you wrapped your arms around him, which made leaving with uncertainty so much harder. And three, you were absolutely nothing like Vanessa.

Last time when he packed to leave, he was treated to her incessant whining over the fact that he didn't want to take her out to dinner. She was always annoyed with him wanting a quiet night in. She was always annoyed by his job. It was so obvious that she never missed him or loved him the way you did as he watched you carefully fold one of his flight suits before tucking it in his bag.

"Gorgeous," he murmured, and as soon as your gaze met his, you had your arms wrapped around him again.

"That's enough for the night," you whispered, voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, and he could hear you trying to keep yourself calm. And god, he hated doing this to both of you.

"I agree," he replied, keeping you close while he tossed a few novels he'd been meaning to read in as well. He'd have plenty of time to read a whole stack.

You wiped your eyes on his shirt as you said, "Make sure you read at night and stay away from all the women."

Bradley tipped your chin up so you were looking at him again. "Surely you're not worried about that." You shook your head. "Good. But now that we're on the topic... be a good girl and don't talk to horny assholes."

You started laughing as you slipped out of his grasp, wiping at your tears as you said, "Never. Now let me add one more thing to your bag." As you disappeared from the bedroom, Bradley put his bag on the top of his dresser. If he had time, he would move some of his clothing around so you had room for your things when your lease was up. Otherwise you were going to have to fend for yourself in his house and just make decisions for him. If he just had more time with you, everything would be easier. The one promising thing would be returning in time for Valentine's Day and Career Day at your school. If he was allowed to come back to San Diego at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, hating this unsettled feeling that was expanding in his chest, but as soon as you walked back in, he started to feel better. Seven weeks without you was going to be painful when he had such a visceral reaction to your touch and your words.

"Just in case you feel like jotting down your own thoughts every day for me to read," you said before tucking the stationery kit in next to his uniforms. You slid a large envelope that looked like it was bursting at the seams inside as well and simply said, "Some more reading material for you," before pulling him toward the bed.

And that's when Bradley figured out just how to make you feel a little less alone when he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

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

When you opened your eyes on Christmas Eve, you were already smiling. Your body was warm and tucked up against Bradley's, his big, heavy arm draped over you as he snored softly. You wanted to stay here and not move a muscle, because right now, everything was perfect. You could pretend like his duffle bag wasn't sitting on his dresser, mostly packed and ready to go. You could melt into the sweet ache deep inside from the hour he spent loving your body last night. You could close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Bradley's phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he groaned next to your ear. "Baby," he murmured, lips grazing your neck. "Don't get up yet."

You couldn't help but smile. "Your phone is vibrating. Not mine."

"Shit," he grunted, rolling away from you. Once he looked at his phone screen he seemed to wake up. "Nat's on her way to pick you up for girls' day."

"What are you talking about?"

You definitely hadn't planned a girls' day. Why would you want to miss out on any time with Bradley right now? You could have a day with Nat next week or next month when he was gone!

He had a little smile on his face as he pulled you close again for a kiss. "You better get dressed."

"Bradley! I'm not going out with Nat. You're leaving in two days!"

Naked and spectacular, he climbed out of bed and stretched. "Just for a bit. She wants to take you to get coffee, and if she tries to get me a Christmas present, I need you to make sure it doesn't suck."

"You planned this," you said, annoyed as he reached for you, pulling you away from the bed where you could pretend there was no scary uncertainty in your future.

"Just trust me," he whispered, holding you close. "Besides, I need some time to sweet talk someone at Salvatore's into letting me order dinner to-go."

You could handle an hour or two with his best friend while you counted down the time you had left before his flight out of San Diego. "Fine, but I'm wearing your sweatshirt, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Bradley sent you down the walkway with a kiss, and he waved from the front door in just his underwear as you climbed into his best friend's car. "I won't keep you out too long," Natasha promised with a smirk. "I can already tell you want to get back to him."

"Why did he plan this?" you asked, wanting the answers he wouldn't give you while trying not to be rude. "No offense, because I would love to spend an entire girls' day with you, but why today?"

She simply turned up the Christmas songs on the radio and headed toward Starbucks with a smile on her face. "I was thinking after coffee we could hit up the mall for a few minutes? I need to find something truly awful to get for Bradley. I'm thinking some pink running shorts to match mine. High visibility colors are very important when you're out running, and I just don't think he fully appreciates that."

You laughed. "If you buy them, he'll probably just wear them to try to embarrass you."

"I don't embarrass easily," she said smoothly with a devilish grin. "And dare I say you might like to pick out a little something that you could wear as a going away treat?"

"Wear?" you asked before you quite knew what she meant.

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to know any specifics about what the two of you get up to, because gross, but deployments are long and lonely, and you're definitely going to miss each other."

While Bradley had seen all of your cutest underwear at this point, you'd never worn anything that you bought specifically with him in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about it. Truthfully you didn't even own anything terribly sexy.

"What would he even like?" you asked softly as she pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

"On you?" she asked with a laugh. "Anything. Don't worry, we'll find something good."

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

When Natasha texted to inform him that you were on your way back to his house, Bradley quickly hid everything that had been out on his coffee table while he juggled his phone. The woman he was talking to on speakerphone wasn't falling for his lines at all.

"Listen," he told her, making sure there was no visible evidence of what he'd done in his living room. "I just really want tonight to be special for my girlfriend and I before I leave for my next deployment. Just one order of spaghetti and meatballs? That's all I'm asking."

There was a deep sigh followed by, "Be here promptly at 5:00 to pick it up. I'll take your credit card over the phone."

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, digging for his wallet. "The name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You walked in with shopping bags in your arms, and rushed toward him as he finished giving his credit card security code, and he pulled you in for a hug as he reassured the hostess from Salvatore's that he would be there at 5:00.

"Hi," he said, kissing you after he ended the call. "Did you have fun with Nat?

"So much fun," you told him with a smile. "We're going to try out a wine bar next week up in Oceanside." The idea of you hanging out with his friend while he was away made him feel calm, especially since Nat knew how important you were to him. "Also," you said, pressing your lips together nervously, "I think I'd like to sleep here for the rest of my winter break." Your volume dropped to a whisper. "I'm not sure if it will make me miss you more or less, but I want to be here if that's okay with you."

"I love that, Gorgeous," he replied easily. Hanging out with Natasha and then returning to his house where you belonged anyway felt right to him. "Knowing you're sleeping in my bed might result in some dirty notes from me," he said with a laugh as you bit your lip.

"Please," you whispered. "Yes. Write me dirty notes to read when you get back." Just when he was about to kiss you, he watched you bend and rummage around in a bag. "Also, this is your gift from Natasha." You handed him some bright pink fabric that he turned around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. "And she told me to hold up the gift receipt for you."

When he finally figured out that it was a pair of ladies running shorts, he grimaced. "She's so annoying," he groaned, reaching for the gift receipt, but you quickly chuckled and tore it up. "What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed to return them." You dropped the bits of paper, and he tossed the shorts onto the couch.

"Whose side are you on here?" he asked, peppering your face with kisses. "Don't think for a second I won't just put a jock strap on and run in those shorts."

"I tried to tell her you would," you laughed as he scooped you up. "I kind of want to see it."

"Play your cards right," he murmured, grabbing his keys and taking you out to his Bronco. "Let's pick up dinner."

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

Your belly was full of spaghetti and meatballs when you managed to sneak away to the tiny laundry room and quickly hand wash your new bra and thong set while Bradley loaded the dishwasher. Nat assured you that he would enjoy this tiny thing, and you were trusting her here. You set both items aside to dry before walking back out to the kitchen.

"You don't have a Christmas tree," you remarked, wishing you'd picked one up today from one of the many parking lots trying to unload them at the last minute.

"I told you I don't really celebrate holidays."

"You're doing a great job of celebrating this one."

He washed his hands and tossed the towel aside. It was barely seven o'clock, but he asked, "You feel like calling it an early night?" You agreed, ready to feel his warmth along your entire body as you fell asleep.

You got undressed and climbed in bed, and he did the same. Bradley's hands were everywhere, but his lips were gentle on your neck and shoulder as he whispered your name. "I love you. It's going to kill me inside when I can't talk to my favorite pen pal. Last time, you had my heart pounding every time you sent me a new email."

Tears stung your eyes in the darkness; you'd done a pretty good job of holding it together all day, but this was going to be your undoing. "I promise, every time you think about me, I'll already be thinking about you, too."

Bradley's arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your skin, soothing you along with his sweet words as you fell asleep.

When you woke up on Christmas Day, his body was still right behind yours where he belonged, but when you rolled over to look at his handsome face, you knew the hours were going to go by too quickly. "Morning, Gorgeous," he murmured, voice raspy from sleep as he cracked his eyes open. "Let's go see what Santa brought."

You didn't have any other gifts for him, unless you counted your new lingerie which you were saving for later after dinner. And the printer you bought so he could have some photos of you without his phone on the aircraft carrier. But when you got out to the living room, there was an envelope on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously as you picked it up. But your heart melted immediately. It was a gift card for the wine bar in Oceanside.

"There's enough on there for you and Nat to take a few trips up if you like the place."

"The two of you have been plotting, I see," you remarked, taking a deep breath before snuggling up against his chest. "But nothing will beat the horribly expensive bottle of wine I accidentally made you buy on our second date."

Deep laughter rumbled through Bradley's chest as he said, "The look on your face just made me love you more." You groaned thinking about it. "Come on, we've only got one day left and then seven weeks of nothing. Let's make French toast and have sex on the couch and eat Thai food and watch movies."

You wore his sweatshirt around all day, licked maple syrup from his lip and rode him until he was whining for you. The Thai noodles went perfectly with Home Alone. Then you took a shower together and deep conditioned his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp until his eyes closed.

"I'm going to miss this," he whispered after every single thing you did. When you toweled his hair dry, he looked at you with so much emotion. "I'm going to call you as soon as I know what's going on with the Pacific versus Atlantic Fleet. And either way, I'll try to be as patient as I possibly can, but I can't live without you, Baby."

"Bradley."

"Shit. Even the way you say my name makes me ache."

"I want you here with me. I already hate this." A sob escaped your lips without warning. "I want you to come back for Career Day."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he said, "I will be here for Career Day no matter what. Disappointing you is bad enough, but I don't want the eighteen kiddos to miss out on spending the day with their favorite Naval officer."

You laughed. "You're not disappointing me, Bradley. This is just hard, because I love you so much."

If you couldn't see a future with him, this would have been easier. He set you down on the bathroom vanity, and you watched him carefully shave around his mustache, kissing you randomly so you had to wipe shaving cream from your nose, and then he started collecting his toiletries for his duffle bag. He was naked and perfect as you stayed huddled in your towel, wondering if you could even manage to pull off wearing the items that were surely dry now and draped over his laundry room sink.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you ducked past him toward the door.

"Meet me in bed."

You rushed down the hallway and threw your towel in the empty washing machine as you took a minute to touch the pretty lace fabric before sliding the thong up your legs. Next you hooked the bra in place, and it didn't matter if you didn't look perfect, because you felt good. And you wanted him to have this memory.

When you cautiously strolled into the bedroom, Bradley was still naked, laying on top of the bedding, looking at a small piece of paper. "I'm just double checking my packing list, and I..." His gaze shifted to your body, and you did a little turn for him. The paper drifted to the floor as he sat up, his hand coming to rest on his cock. "Come here."

Biting your lip, you did as you were told. Bradley's feet swung over the edge of the bed, coming to rest on the floor as his cock bobbed between his thick thighs. "Here I am," you whispered, standing between his knees with your hands on his shoulders. "Your going away gift."

One strong arm wrapped around you, and you squeaked as he pulled you flush against him. He kissed the rounded tops of your breasts above your new bra, one after the other before looking up at you. "What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped, his nose running along the lace as his fingers tangled in your thong.

Already so turned on, you tried to answer him twice before words came out. "I wanted to give you a proper send off. Something extra special." Then he kissed your furled nipples through the flimsy bra cups and you moaned, "Something to think about when you're lonely."

His fingers were digging into your butt as he grunted. His wide brown eyes were fixed on your face as he parted his lips and sucked on your breast, the black lace wet everywhere now. He was being a little rough, but it felt like he was worshipping you at the same time, and when his lip found your neck, he asked, "Is this little getup new?"

"I bought it yesterday," you gasped as his fingers slipped inside your thong, stroking your wet pussy. "Just for you."

Then you were on your back with your head on the pillow, Bradley's heavy cock resting against your thigh as he hovered over you. "Just for me, huh?" he grunted, biceps flexed as he fought to keep his breathing under control.

You nodded, running your toes up along his calf and thigh until your leg was hooked around his hip, ready to give him whatever he wanted. "Of course it's just for you. I'll wear it again when we meet back in the San Diego airport or in Norfolk. And I'll wear it when you're away and I'm touching myself."

"Fuck," he growled, pulling your panties to the side and running his cock through your wetness before pushing himself so deep inside you that it took your breath away. When you whimpered, his lips crashed against yours as his hands dug beneath you to unhook your bra. "Touch yourself right now." When the flimsy lace ended up on the floor while Bradley fucked you, he guided your right hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before placing them on your breast. "I want to watch."

Bradley's pupils were wide, lips parted. When you looked down your body as his cock disappeared inside you over and over again, you felt even more turned on. When you ran your fingers along your nipple and up between your bouncing breasts, his eyes followed your every move. "Like this?" you asked, feeling bold as you added your left hand as well.

He gave you a harder thrust. "Exactly like that, Gorgeous. And what are you going to think about when you do?"

"My boyfriend," you managed before his mouth met yours in a deep kiss that only lasted a few seconds. "I'm going to think about my boyfriend. I'll miss you so much."

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

Bradley's hips slowed to a gentler pace as he listened to you gasping and panting beneath him. There was no way you'd miss him as much as he'd miss you. He closed his eyes and thought about returning home to your arms in seven weeks and heading back to work in the Pacific Fleet. He hoped you'd appreciate the little surprises he was leaving behind for you. More than anything he wanted you to think about tonight when you got yourself off.

His rough excitement at you in the new lingerie melted into something sweeter as he fucked you with long, languid strokes. Your lips were on his neck and collarbones as he whispered how much he loved you over and over. When you came, it escalated quickly, sudden and loud as he ran his thumb across your clip. He couldn't hold on after that, and he let your body hold him in place with soft squeezes as he caught his breath.

"I have one more thing for you to pack," you whispered, voice ragged as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you fit in my duffle," he mused, and you laughed softly.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "I bought a small photo printer since you won't be able to use your phone." He shivered at your words. "You can print out a photo or two of us together... or maybe you want to take a new one right now to print out?"

"Jesus," he grunted, kissing your lips. "You're spoiling me." He reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped a few pictures of your fucked out face and your body with his cock still buried deep. "I am very spoiled."

When you stood and plugged in the printer with lips puffy from his mustache in just your thong, he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had his photo gallery open on his phone and his arm around your waist as he selected the picture you sent him ages ago with the sun setting behind you. "This one is an absolute necessity. So is this one of us together. I don't think I should take any with me where you're naked, just to be safe," he mused, and you threw your arms around him.

"You'll just have to use your imagination," you told him as the photos printed.

"That'll be easy with this fresh in my mind," he murmured, looking down at your tits pressed to his chest. "I'll be thinking about you nonstop."

Bradley's hold on your body was unrelenting as he dropped the photos into his duffle and led you back to bed. It was getting late, and his flight to Virginia was early. You snuggled up on his chest with a soft smile on your lips. "I hope you do. I hope you think about me constantly and write me notes."

He kissed your forehead. "Not just you... your whole class. Have to keep them interested in aviation. But you're my favorite pen pal."

You laughed and buried your face against his neck, and he could feel your breathing grow a little more ragged as you whispered, "I love you so much. Just be safe. I don't really care if we have to figure out long distance or relocation as long as you're safe, Bradley."

That's how he fell asleep, wrapped up in your arms with your sweet sentiments in his ear. And the next morning, when his alarm went off, he welcomed your tears, because they made him feel like he was important to a woman for the first time in his life. You cried softly as you sat on his lap and went over his packing list with him one more time, and your cheeks were wet as you kissed him.

Bradley let you button up his khaki uniform shirt for him, your fingers shaking as you smoothed down the fabric along his chest. "Thank you, Gorgeous," he whispered, watching helplessly as your face crumbled into more tears.

When he drove the Bronco to the airport, your fingers were linked with his in the silence as the light from the rising sun hit the buildings downtown, promising to bring another perfect day to southern California. His hand tightened around yours, knowing he was going to be flying into so much uncertainty. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he parked at the curb under the signage for departing flights. "This is it. I'll text and call you as much as I can when I land before they lock me down, but this is it for seven weeks."

You crawled onto his lap, holding him tight as he kissed you, and now his tears mingled with yours. "I love you, Bradley," you promised, and he believed you as he held you in his arms and climbed down onto the pavement. He pulled his duffle from the backseat and dropped it to the curb as he held you against him, unwilling to leave before he told you a few more things.

"I'll keep myself safe, but you need to do the same. If you need something, you call Natasha right away, okay?" You nodded against him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "My stuff is your stuff, so do whatever you want at the house and with my Bronco. And tell me you love me every day in the journal so I can read about it when I see you."

"I will," you sobbed as he finally set you down. "And I'll be waiting to hear you tell me if it's San Diego or Norfolk."

He swiped your tears away from your cheeks and kissed you one last time before he picked up his bag and headed for the door. When he turned back one last time, you were clutching his car keys and crying. "I love you, Gorgeous."

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

We'll see how they manage apart. I think she might do a bit better than Bradley will. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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652 notes · View notes

intoxicated-chan · 1 year

Note

Breeding Kink Miguel O'Hara?👉🏻👈🏻🥺

We’re Both Sinners

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel couldn’t describe it, for the first time, he felt like he lost all sense of control.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ I gotchu! Inspired by “Sinners” by The Ari Abdul. Also, I’m sorry that this seems rushed, I haven’t written a lot of smut before so apologies!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 877

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, breeding kink, sexual content, p in v, pet names (Mi Amor), office sex, bruises, biting, nearly caught? Fingering… Please let me know if I missed anything!

The first time was a complete accident. Miguel had no clue that the condom broke so suddenly, he really shouldn’t be surprised since of how hard he was going. It took the cum leaking out of your cunt that sparked something inside of him.

Of course, he’d never do anything without your permission but every time, the words were at the tip of his tongue. How much he wanted to beg you to let him take off the condom and let him fuck you raw. He was getting harder and harder every time, he knew if he didn’t say anything soon, he wasn’t going to be able to control himself.

It was so distracting that he couldn’t even contain himself during work. The shame he felt during important meetings when he felt himself get hard by the simple thoughts. The embarrassment he felt when he was forced out of his thoughts and everyone was staring at his flustered face. Never again. He couldn’t let that happen again.

You noticed his distraction from day one. He seemed lost in thought and papers began piling up on his desk. You knew that it wouldn’t be long before Miguel returned to his home office and remained there late into the night.

It was supposed to be a simple visit. Bring him his lunch and talk with him. His office was dark, almost pitch black but it was normal. The only light was the very small lamp on his desk, facing away from him.

You set his lunch down next to his laptop and sat down at the chair in front of his desk.

You waited a few seconds before you called his name, “Miguel~” You waved a hand in front of his face, and it made him jolt, “I brought you lunch.”

“Uh, thank you, mi amor.” He smiles. You could see him avoiding your gaze.

“How was the meeting?” You begin to poke at him.

“It went well. We went over some numbers that an employee messed up. And-”

“Miguel.”

“Yes?”

“You do know that there was no meeting. Not a single one today.” You sigh, “What’s got you so distracted that it’s affecting your work?”

He glanced at you but immediately turned away when your eyes didn’t move from his. You leaned in, “Please, talk to me.” You whispered.

He felt his cock twitch, “Don’t say that.” He huffs heavily.

“Don’t say what?”

He hissed, “You don’t know how you affect me, do you?” He chuckled, “Teasing me and all.”

He suddenly reached over and grabbed the collar of your shirt, “You said you wanted me to talk, alright then. I’ll show you what’s got my head in a blender.” You can see his blood-red eyes seeping past his brown ones.

“Has anyone seen Mr. O’Hara?” One employee asked another, holding a stack of papers in his arms, “I have the papers he requested.”

“I was told not to bother him.” Another told him.

“Seriously? After I spent hours going through everything he just gave me.” He shakes his head and walks towards his office.

“I wouldn’t-” The employee ignores the other one who sighs, “Do that.” Leaving him to face the consequences.

The employee managed to free one hand and used it to knock on the door, “Mr. O’Hara?” Silence, “Sir?”

“I thought I made it clear that I am to be bothered,” Miguel growls.

“I’m sorry sir but-”

“Come back later!”

The employee huffed but walked away.

“Nearly got us in trouble.” Miguel seethed, feeling you tighten around him as he continues his brutal pace.

“B-But he didn’t hear anything.” His hand slaps over your mouth to silence you.

“But he could’ve and I can’t have that happening.” He whispers in your ear.

Miguel has you bend over his desk. Whatever was originally on his desk was now on the floor. One hand remained on your mouth and the other was gripping your hip.

Your neck is littered with bruises and maybe a bite or two from his fangs. Your hair is a mess from moments ago.

You continue to moan into his hand, “It’s like you want to be caught. Is that what you want?” He removes your hand and grabs a chunk of your hair, tugging, “You want everyone to see how much of a whore you are for their boss. I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

Miguel let his control slip, hearing himself groan and you cry… He pounded into you harder than ever. You felt another orgasm come and you completely lost count.

But it wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppy, and soon you heard him loudly groan, cumming inside of you.

He released your hair and his grip on your waist, but he remained over you. His hands support his tired body, “Still distracted?” You pant.

You try getting up but he pushes you back down, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“You still have work.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind having their boss without a few more hours.” You let out a yelp when you felt two of his fingers thrust into you, “Besides, I can’t have this going to waste.”

“But today’s meeting is important!” You retort.

“I’ve got two hours, you’ll be more than filled up by then.”

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guiltyasdave · 2 months

Text

a long time coming

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You were supposed to go to a concert with your best friend. You end up going with her dad instead.

word count: ~1.1k

tags/warnings: best friend's dad!Dave, fluff, allusions to smut, huge age gap, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, please be warned: Dave has inappropriate (though reciprocated) thoughts about his daughter's best friend - if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read

a/n: daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality and i were freaking out about those new photos of pedro, and because daphne apparently wants me dead, she said that it's giving bfd!dave who's at a concert with you and also provided me with a snippet that still has me in a chokehold and that's part of this story now. i am already experiencing heavy brainrot because i'm going to the eras tour in three (3) days and this was the final nail in my coffin tbh. i should be working on my dress, but instead i did this. the most self indulgent shit i've ever written lmao, please enjoy <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

“Please, daddy? Please?”

Dave sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Molly’s hoarse voice keeps pleading with him before it dissolves into a fit of coughs.

With a groan, she lets her head fall against the pillows, wide eyes still trained on him.

“No one else wants to go, and I can’t let her go alone, I’d feel terrible. Please?”

She pouts at him, knowing fully well that her father doesn’t deny her anything when she looks at him like this.

“Fine. If you’re sure that she’s okay with it?”

“She is! I already asked her.”

Dave cocks a brow at his daughter, earning himself an exhausted but triumphant grin.

“Don’t look at me like that. It will be fun!”

Admittedly, Dave really has much more fun than he expected when his daughter all but begged him to accompany her best friend to the concert that she wanted to go to herself before she got sick.

He knows most of the songs, has been witness to you and Molly singing along to the music while dancing through his kitchen often enough. It’s not bad music by any means, and the show is nothing short of spectacular.

It’s not the reason he’s enjoying himself so much though. He’s barely watching the show, eyes only occasionally flicking towards the stage.

His gaze is fixed on you, has been since before the show even started. Watching you interact with other fans, beaming smiles and giggles, eagerly exchanging bracelets, excitedly cooing at the especially pretty ones.

Meeting your eyes when you turned to him, not able to suppress his own smile at the sparkle in them. Suppressing the flicker of something in his chest when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging it closer to put a few bracelets on him as well. You don’t seem to notice the faint blush that’s rising up in his cheeks at the unexpected touch.

He’s watching you bouncing on your feet seconds before the show starts, snaps a few photos of the pure joy on your face without you noticing. Just to send them to you later, having enough experience from being the father of two daughters to know how much you’ll love them. After that, he’ll delete them from his own phone. Of course he will.

He’s watching you dance, your body moving to the beat of the music, your lips forming every word. Your silhouette shimmering with the lights reflecting off your dress. It’s mesmerizing. You dance with the girls beside you sometimes, shouting lyrics at each other. Other times, you turn to him. He doesn’t protest when you take his hands, starts moving with you without a second thought, starts singing the words that he knows along with you. You’re laughing, your eyes shining with pure happiness. It’s intoxicating, and he wants more, wants all of it, wants to be part of that happiness. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled this wide, the last time his body felt this light.

It takes a long time, longer than it should, until he remembers why this is bad. Until the weight comes crashing back into him. Until he remembers that he shouldn’t feel like this with you.

You’re so much younger than him. His daughter’s friend. His daughter who asked him to come here with you, because she trusted that you’d be safe with him.

Your brow furrows when you catch his eye and notice the change in his expression. No. He wants you to enjoy yourself, doesn’t want to be the reason for any kind of worry for you right now. He allows himself to drink in your energy right now, to let a smile grow on his face again.

There’s no harm in indulging just for one night. Just a little bit. No one has to know. Least of all you.

So he keeps singing with you, keeps letting you move with him. Keeps watching.

It’s easy, being with you, talking to you. Effortless in a way that he’s not used to.

It’s just because you’re at his house more often than not, going wherever Molly goes. It has to be.

But it’s different, your giggles ringing out in the confines of his car, not mixed with his daughter’s, the sound that he knows. And he’s the one who’s elicited those laughs from you.

"Explain it again, please. You’ve glued every single of these stones onto your dress?" He laughs and gives you another once over, glad he can disguise his inappropriate ogling with an appreciating glance. Act like he’s studying the intricate, shimmering patterns on the fabric. Not the way your tits are straining against the low cut over your chest. Not the way the skirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing a new inch of bare skin. "Great job, sweetheart. You look good. The dress looks good, too."

He wonders how the dress would look bunched up around your waist. Or on the floor of your apartment. If your skin is as soft as it looks in the dim shine of the red light he’s stopped at. How it would taste under his tongue. The sweet sounds you would make when his teeth dig into you.

You breathe a thank you and bite your lip at the compliment, and his cock twitches with interest. Wrong, wrong, so wrong.

He has to be imagining the way that you keep glancing his way, stealing looks when you think that he doesn’t notice. Wishful thinking on his part.

He pulls up in front of your apartment building, killing the engine and turning towards you. You’re already facing him, more shy than you’ve looked all evening.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say softly, lips pulling up into another smile. “I’ve had a great time. I— I hope you did too.”

His hand lands on your thigh before he can actively think about it. A soft gasp escapes you, but you make no move to back away from his touch.

“Trust me, I did.”

He doesn’t intend for it to come out as low and breathy as it does. Teeth dig into your lips once more. Your contemplative gaze burns into him.

You inch closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his face.

Wrong. He swallows thickly, forces his grip off of you. You blink, eyes growing wider, the growing tension’s fog lifting from you. Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

He needs you to leave this car. Right now.

You nod, shakily bidding him a good night as well.

He watches your retreating silhouette, finally able to exhale deeply when you enter your building.

He’s fucked.

comments and reblogs are love and make my day every single time <3

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #janas fics

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back2bluesidex · 10 months

Text

J-Hope Fic Recommendations (18+)

If you are already following me for quite some time then you should know that I am a massive masochist and I like to torture myself by reading and writing angsty stories. So, most of the stories that I recommended are angsty as well (might as well have sad endings). So please carefully read the warnings before proceeding. Have a happy reading.

And please don't expect much from me. There are several other rec lists far better than mine. The only motive I had behind creating this list to promote some of the stories, which I think are very underrated. especially angsty ones. These stories are beautifully written so.. I just wanted to let the authors know how phenomenal of a job they have done (As a writer myself I know how much this actually means). Thanks to these amazing writers and I am grateful that they decided to share their work here with us.

[Minors please stay away from my blog!]

Key: F - Fluff, A- Angst, S- Smut, Y- Yandere, *- Personal Favorite

Oneshots

1. Ash from his fire by @filmcrystal - A, implied S, cheating au

It will break your heart so please proceed with caution.

2. Forbidden Fruit by @deepdarkdelights - A, Y

This one deals with several triggering topics. Hence, read the warnings carefully. But I can say that you will love this twisted mafia Hoseok way too much!

3. Shadows by @borathae - A, exes au

One of the most underrated stories I have ever read! Yeah, it is very angsty and Hoseok is so cruel but... we all are masochist here. lmao!

4. Heaven sent by @aquagustd - A, F, S, f2l au

Sexy soccer player Hoseok is just another name for perfection.

5. Bound by @explicit-tae - S, kinda f2l

Talk abut BDSM! GOOOD Sweet Lord!!!

6. Jigsaw by @sunshinejunghoseokie - A *

I remembered crying after reading this one. So damn underrated that it physically hurts me!!

7. Delta Disorder by @bangtanintotheroom Y, S, Supernatural au

I don't usually read supernatural stuff but this demon Hoseok is way too sexy to skip!

8. Systems of Touch by @yeoldontknow - S, F, tiny A, S2l au

Beautifully written! The author used 100% of their capabilities to write this one. Perfectly drawn Professor Hoseok with a very attractive character of reader. Certainly a treat to read.

9. 2:00 AM by @likeastarstar - A, fuckbuddy Hoseok

Part of a series but can be read as a standalone. and Hoseok is a dick in this.

10. Love Quarrels by @mirahuyooo - A, F, mafia au

A cold yet soft mafia husband Hoseok chases behind his angry wife... could there be anything better than that?

11. The Hook Up ft. JK by @minisugakoobies - S

A little bit of a triangle.. but not love? if that makes sense.

12. Entelechy by @drmflm - suggestive (I believe)

Can't call this one angst and neither is this about Hoseok (he is there, don't worry). This one is more about the reader and her growth and it's beautiful.

13. Orgasms on the verge of a nervous breakdown by @sluttyandere - S, Y *

This is very dark and quite triggering, so please don't read unless you can handle those stuff.

14. For the night by @aseaofyoongi - A, S

I cried. that's all.

15. We Shouldn't by @beahae - S **

Hands down to one of my most favourite Hoseok smuts ever!!! This one has a Jimin follow-up so make sure to read that too.

16. Real or not real by @nmjoo-n - A, S, F **

Again one of the most exquisite Hoseok fics I have ever read!

17. Checkmate by @sunshinejoon - A, S

This was supposed to have a sequel but it is perfect regardless.

18. Do I wanna know - @yoongiphoria - A, f2? ****

Now, MJ knows how much I love this one. I often read this story and I never ever get bored of it! I love this to the core and you should too!

19. Scrap - @silv3rswirls - A, Y, S

Dark and sexy. Read the warnings carefully please.

20. It's a Promise by @sahmfanficbts - S, A, Arranged marriage au

Just read it.

21. Three by @hamsterclaw - S

Again.. VERY UNDERRATED!

22. Wonderwall by @kiara-ish - A with an open ending

Might not be for the faint hearted.

23. Infatuated by @bangtanfancamp - F

If you like high school love au then this one is for you.

24. Constellations of You by @persphonesorchid - S, F, established relationship au

This is so domestic that my heart almost exploded while reading!!

25. Burning flames or paradise by @/yoongiphoria - A, tiny f ****

MJ does magic.... that's all I can say.

26. Alone again by @archivedkookie - A, F

I loooove these kinds of stories. Just the right amount of despair with the right amount of hope... beautiful.

27. Feeling Good by @bonvoyagenoona - A, S

Everything I write about this will fall short.. so I will just shut up and let you enjoy the goodness.

28. Distracted by @dilfhoseokie - S

Ahem..

29. Drink Champaign in my airplane by @/bangtanintotheroom - F, S, F2l

Perfectly embodies a rich hot CEO friend Hoseok... a fun read.

30. Keynote by @missgeniality - S **********

MY MOST FAVORITE HOSEOK ONESHOT TO EXIST IN THE PLANET. yeah.. (this has a follow-up but I like this one better)

Series

The thing is that I don't usually read series. I just don't have that patience. So this list is pretty small and forgive me for that.

1. Transference by @dark-muse-iris - A, S, F, S2l *********************

[Completed]

I wasn't the same after reading this. I can't talk about this trantric therapist Hoseok, 'cause I will never shut up if I start.

2. Kanalia by @xjoonchildx - A, S, f (?) *********************

[Ongoing]

Honestly, who isn't a sucker for Lord Jung? You must be sick if you are not. (On a side note.. Kanalia is keeping me alive from jumping off trains on tough days)

3. Guarded by @/xjoonchildx - A, S, F, S2l

[Completed]

Mafia Hoseok with dogtags. I think that's enough of an introduction.

If you want to read the Hoseok stories I write, you can checkout my Masterlist.

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artdcnaldson · 4 months

Note

ok remember when I said that last ask was the horniest thing I'd ever written? Well scratch that bc this is a new record. (Obligatory disclaimer if you don't like it feel free to delete/ignore it)

Imagine- if you will- tashi bringing you to one of arts games. And you're in a sweet little tennis dress and you sit next to her and watch art, not even paying attention to the game just taking in his form, the shine of sweat, the concentration on his face, the little grunts and moans. And obviously you start shifting around in your seat, because, what are you supposed to be??? Dry???? No! So, it's the last break and tashi takes you to the bathroom and makes you lean over so she can check on the situation, and your white panties are so wet they're basically see through (in an ideal world she would've banned you from wearing any just to torture you but unfortunately they're famous and with the press and everything it's too much of a risk 😞 ) and you're really hoping she'll help you out but she just goes "hmm" and takes you back to your seat. And the breaks not over, arts noticed that yall were gone and he's making eye contact with tashi and she just. Nods at him. And he's already winning but for the rest of the match he's on fire, practically wiping the floor with the other guy.

After it's over and he's won and done all the press and stuff, you ride back to their hotel, with tashi in the middle bc she's the only one who can be trusted to keep control of herself. You and art are practically vibrating, with desire and exhilaration respectively. So you get back to the hotel room and tashi tells art to go sit on the couch. Then finally, she gives you a little jerk of her chin and you scramble to put yourself over his knee bc you know that he's always antsy after a win but tashi will want to go over everything while it's as fresh as possible, so you just hang out there and let him play with your sopping cunt and ignore you, just feeling him hard against your stomach but satiated for now since he has something to do while he listens to tashis critiques. When she's done she'll give you further instructions and maybe reward you for good behavior.

(am I gonna become a smut writer this is kinda fun)

I’m so fucking obsessed. I’m on my knees. Anything to keep Artashi happy 😁�� just look at them

Rating: E(18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v, face sitting, fingering, mild mommy/daddy kink, mild dom/sub dynamics) that’s it that’s the story. Just porn without plot

your brain is just sooo fuzzy and mindless while art’s playing with you. The cute shorts you wore beneath the dress tugged to the side, his fingers stuffed inside of you, your own juices smeared down your thigh, spilling more with each slow thrust of his fingers. It could be a few minutes, or an hour. You just know that you lose yourself in the rise and fall of Tashi’s voice as she runs through her notes, in the warm pressure of Art’s thighs pressing against you.

You must’ve gotten too loud, because Tashi’s kneeling in front of you— holding your chin in her hand, forcing eye contact. “Baby, how’s Art supposed to focus when you’re acting like this, huh? Tomorrow’s match is important, he needs to hear this.”

You whine. Big mistake. Tashi meets Art’s gaze, makes a face you don’t understand. And then Art’s slipping his fingers from your warm, needy cunt. “Clean him up,” Tashi instructs.

You wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking on them, cleaning any evidence of your arousal off. You take them deeper, feeling the brush of his fingers at the back of his throat. You moan softly— Tashi grabs your hair and pulls you off.

“Do you have any critiques for Art?” She asks. You blink slowly. Critiques?? What was there to critique?? “You were at the game. Show Art that you were paying attention.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times as you looked into Art’s eyes. God, he was so pretty. And then your eyes traveled down, and he was so hard in his shorts that it was tenting the fabric. You just wanted to mouth at him through them, make him feel good. “I— I don’t.”

Tashi sighed, almost disappointed, but not really. Tennis critiques weren’t what you were there for. “It’s a good thing you’re pretty.” She patted your thigh. “Go lay down on the bed.”

You obey so sweetly— hands by your sides, fisted in the duvet so you won’t be tempted to touch yourself. Your thighs rub together as you seek friction, need pulsing between your thighs, adding to the mess of wetness.

It’s five minutes (which you know, because you count) until Tashi and Art join you. Art’s down to the fucking obscene briefs Tashi makes him wear, straining against the fabric obscenely. And Tashi’s wearing fucking agent provocateur, so beautiful that you could die happy just at the sight of her.

“If you paid attention to the match, we would’ve been really sweet to you,” Tashi hums as she takes off your dress. The shorts are soaked so badly that she practically peels them away from your cunt. “But all you could think about was getting fucked, huh?”

You nod as she presses two fingers between your lips, pushing all the way until she hits the back of your throat and you gag around them. She stays like that, thrusting her fingers between your lips, smiling every time your eyes fill with unshed tears and your throat constricts. “It’s been a long day. Just let mommy and daddy use you.”

And you do, because that’s all you can really ask for. Tashi slips off her lingerie, putting on a show without even trying. She straddles your face, knees planted on either side of your head, and sinks onto your waiting mouth.

You moan at the taste of her on your tongue, hands eagerly grabbing at her ass to pull her closer. Usually she would scold you for being greedy, but it was the farthest thing from her mind while she was benefiting from said neediness. You eagerly alternated between lapping at her dripping center and giving her clit the attention it needs.

And then there’s Art. He pulls apart your thighs and pushes into the tight, wet heat waiting for him there. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as he sinks inch after inch after inch inside. He groans at the feeling of your pussy gripping him, pulling him in, in, in. His grip on your hips is so tight it feels bruising.

You lose yourself in the two of them— brain going fuzzy and empty. All you knew, all that mattered in the moment was Tashi, and Art, and how good you felt.

And Tashi’s moaning above you— relishing in your need to please. Even with her husband balls deep inside of you, even with your mind so fuzzy, you keep your attention divided so fairly. You were so fucking nice, she didn’t even have to take the reins— she just got to sit there and let you work her with your tongue.

You were in fucking heaven. Art wasn’t content just using— it feels better when you cum while he’s inside of you. He moves you like a pretty little doll, adjusting you just right. He puts your legs over his shoulders so he gets deeper, kissing your cervix with each deep thrust. His thumb presses against your clit, rubs in slow circles.

Tashi cums first— hips stuttering as she grinds against your face. You relish in it, licking at her center as she comes down, until the lightest brush against her clit makes her twitch with overstimulation. She moves off of you, kissing you with slow, sweet laps of her tongue. You give a shuddery gasp into her mouth.

“Is daddy making you feel good?” Her words are cooed against your ear. You nod wordlessly, only capable of pretty moans or needy whines. She turns her gaze to Art, who’s already close as is, without the attention of his fucking perfect wife.

“Close,” Art groans, meeting her gaze. Her lips turn into an amused smirk as she pushes his thumb off of your clit, and replaces it with her own lithe fingers.

Your back arches as she works you with her fingers, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. Art continues to fuck into you. Each thrust is accompanied by lead, near pornographic sounds— the squelch of your soaked cunt swallowing his cock, the slap of his balls against your ass, the fucked-out moans passing his lips.

Your climax overtakes you suddenly. Your back arches off the bed as you cum. Your pussy clenches around Art’s cock as he continues to fuck into you, and your release leaves an obscene, creamy ring around the base of him. Tashi’s lips are on yours, swallowing down the moans and cries falling from your lips as Art fucks you into overstimulation.

Art buries himself within you as he cums, spilling into you with a few shallow thrusts. You whine when he finally pulls out and some of cum dribbles out, making an even bigger mess of the duvet.

Tashi pets your hair sweetly, kisses your sweat-sticky forehead. Art leaves to grab a towel— you hear him dampening it in the fancy en-suite bathroom. “By the way, I thought you shouldn’t get to cum.”

Art laughs lightly as he returns, cleaning you up between your thighs. “I told her I’d throw the match tomorrow, it always works.” He kisses you deeply, and you moan against his mouth. God, he was a good kisser.

“I can always just stop believing you,” Tashi reminded him. “Maybe I was in a giving mood.” Art snorts, you meet her gaze through narrowed eyes.

She’s right where she belongs. Art’s head is on her shoulder, yours rests on her chest. You’re all just a tangle of sweaty limbs.

TASHI DUNCAN I WONT U SO BAD 😚🫵

Sorry to Art he truly is a racket and a dick in this fic

#Tashi Duncan x reader #Tashi Duncan #tashi duncan smut #art donaldson x reader #art Donaldson #art donaldson smut #my writing #blurbs

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cozage · 1 year

Note

Coza!! Congrats on your 2K followers. 🥳🎉🥂

I like your smuts and I’m having a hard time choosing what scenarios to request!! I’m so excited for this event you have no idea. May I request for the Option 1? Reaction of Luffy+ Sanji+ Zoro+ Law+ Eustass Kid + Killer to you reading smuts/hentai please? Thank you!!

A/N: Hi :) I wasn't able to do everyone, but I did a few! Minors…OUT! go on! Get! Scram! Also I won’t lie Zoro’s is based loosely off of the funniest comic I’ve seen in my life that stays living rent free in my head Characters: gn reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law Cw: smut and suggestive, NO MINORS ALLOWED ON THIS POST PLS GO AWAY Total word count: 900

Scandalous Reading

Luffy

Luffy’s head rested on your shoulder, his eyes lazily skimming the page that you were reading.

“Woah!” Luffy grabbed the book out of your hand and put it up to his face to get a better view of the words. “I didn’t even know this was possible!”

“Luffy!” You reached for the book, but he held it just out of your reach, still reading.

“I didn’t even think about trying-”

“Luffy! Give it back!”

His wide eyes peered over the pages, but he refused to hand it back to you. “Do you like this stuff?”

“I mean-I don’t-I just-” Your face turned beet red at the implication. “It’s just written really well!”

He gave you a mischievous grin and took off back toward his room, book in tow. “Come on!” he called. “I want to see if it really can work this way!”

Oh, you were in for a rough night.

Sanji

“My love, did you-” Sanji stopped, his eyes fixated on the book cover you were reading.

“Sanji?” you prompted, trying to get his attention.

“I know that author,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Where do I know that-”

“You probably don’t!” You slammed your book shut and shoved it behind your back. “What did you need?”

“Oh! Right! Would you like gelato or ice cream?”

“Surprise me!” you said, trying to get his mind off the book. “I’m sure whatever you make will be amazing!”

Sanji was in the kitchen when he finally placed it, and he almost collapsed from the realization of what he had caught you reading.

He brought you out the finest gelato he had ever made and set it down next to you. “So, my love,” he said, trying not to sound too excited. “How is your book?”

“It’s good,” you said. You set it down to grab your gelato, and Sanji lunged for it.

He skimmed the pages, confirming his suspicion, and tried his hardest not to pass out from the filth his eyes found. “You’re reading book porn!” he whispered sharply. “You always get on me for staring at-”

“That’s not the same,” you hissed. “These aren’t real people! It’s different!”

“It is not!”

“What am I supposed to do!?” you snapped back, glaring at him. “You’re busy in the kitchen, I have to entertain myself somehow during the day!”

Oh, that was a bad way of wording things, because the second the words were out, Sanji’s eyes lit up. “Are you telling me you want to do something like this? Because I would love nothing more than to treat you like the royalty I know you are.”

Zoro

“What are you reading?” Zoro asked, looking at your book cover.

“A book.” You tilted the book slightly to shield him from seeing any of the words.

“What’s it about?” He seemed strangely interested in the cover. “Swordmaking?”

Oh right, there was a sword on the front cover of the book. No wonder he was so interested in it.

“It’s called Swords and Snakes. It’s a book about…royalty, love, and betrayal.”

He scrunched his face in disgust and went back to resting his eyes. “Not really my kind of book.”

You grinned. "No, I don't think it is." You set your book down and stood up. “Do you want anything? I’m going to go get a snack.”

“Riceballs.”

You nodded and went to the kitchen to grab food. What you hadn’t been expecting was returning to Zoro staring wide-eyed at the page you had dog-earred.

He looked up at you in amusement, smirking at your anxious body language. “You weren’t joking about love and betrayal.”

“That’s mine!”

“More like love-making and betrayal,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know they wrote books like this. I didn’t know you would read books like this.”

“Well to be fair-” you snatched the book from his hands. “I didn’t know you could read at all!”

“Don’t be too bratty now,” he teased. “Or I’ll give you the same treatment that knight gave the princess.”

Law

You had only left your book laying on the bedside table for a minute while you ran to the bathroom. But damn that Trafalgar Law, he was so nosey.

“Quite the fantasy world you read about,” he hummed as you walked back into the room.

“What do you-” your words died in your throat, seeing him flip through the pages. “Oh, that.” You gave a nervous laugh, striding back over to your bed.

“Yes, this.” He slapped the book shut, peering up at you with such a predatory and lustful look that you almost took a step backward.

“I just picked it up at the last bookstore we went to,” you lied. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing you.

He handed the book back to you, and you quickly grabbed it. “Thanks,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

“Sure.” He stood to take his leave, heading back to the lab. He stopped on his way out, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“If you ever want to make it a reality, all you have to do is ask.”

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plussizefantasia · 5 months

Text

More Body, More Money

Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

warnings: Allusion to smut towards the end, references to a female body and that body being bigger

an: holy shit sorry for disappearing for so long. I make no promises as to when I'll come back as I seem to have a habit of breaking those. I've been in a Bridgerton mood recently though and typed this on my phone in like an hour so no promises that it's all that good. I will say though that I've been working on a request recently and it's currently at 4k and counting which is by far the longest fic I've ever written and I'm not even to the good part yet. I've also finished outlining the rest of the parts for my Kili x reader fic. I think that's it though, thanks for reading this far if you did and for putting up with my bs.

“Darling, could you come here a moment?” Your husband called from his desk. Recently you had taken to reading while lounging on the couch in his study. It was a great way to spend time with your busy husband while also letting him get his work done.

You didn’t exactly know what he was working on at the moment but apparently, your presence was needed to solve whatever issue he had stumbled upon. It wasn’t until you got closer to his desk that you noticed the receipts and ledgers sprawled across his desk. He was updating the families' books and tracking the spending that you and the rest of his family had done that month.

“Yes, my love?” You moved to rest your hand on his back and traced it across his shoulders and on his neck. It was as if you two were magnets, unable to keep apart for very long. If you were close enough then you would feel your hands gravitating towards him. And if the way his arm moved to rest on your back as well, he had the same urges when in proximity to you.

“I’ve noticed something odd in the charges from the modiste.” Anthony handed you the papers. Both you and Eloise had gone to the modiste at the beginning of the month to be fitted for some new gowns to prepare for her second season in the marriage mart and your first season as the Viscountess.

“I’ll admit to not being the most knowledgeable about gowns and other frivolities my love, but is it normal for the cost difference to be this large? I mean when Ben and I get new suits the price is almost always similar.” He pointed to the two prices listed on the bill from Madame Delacroix.

You didn’t know how to respond to this, you knew the reason behind the price difference between yours and Elioises dresses, of course, it was something that you had thought of already. After all, it was the same reason that your younger sister always got more gowns than you every season that the two of you attended growing up. You were larger, and as the modiste you had gone to grow up with had said “More body means more fabric means more money.” more money that your father had deemed unnecessary so you had only ever gotten one or two new dresses while your sister would be fitted for five or six of the newest and most flattering styles.

But how could you explain this to Anthony? That your dresses cost more than his sisters because you were bigger, and that meant more money.

You knew Anthony loved your body, he worshiped it often in fact but there was a difference between getting lost in the softness of your embrace and seeing the real-life sometimes the financial consequences of living in a bigger body.

“Oh, Anthony, it is uh- just a matter of resources I suppose.”

He raised a brow at you. “I’m not sure I understand. What do you mean by resources?”

“Well dear husband, you and your brother are very similar in height and build which means the two of you have very similar resource usage, whereas myself and your sister are quite different in the… resource usage department.”

“My love, I need you to speak to me as if I am an idiot.”

You deeply sighed and prepared yourself to have the conversation that you had been trying and failing to get out of. “Eloise is small, therefore it does not take as much fabric to make her dresses, whereas I am quite well endowed and my dresses require more material. More body means more fabric means more money it is as simple as that.”

“That is preposterous, are you both not getting dresses?” His tone was getting more defensive, and it warmed your heart to know that he was willing to get upset at the simple fact that Madame Delacroix had charged you more because your dress was bigger. You had expected him to be embarrassed, and deep down somewhat afraid that he would realize that he had signed himself up for these extra expenses for the rest of his life by marrying you.

“Well darling, think about it, would you expect to pay the same amount for a child as you would for yourself? Do you not pay more for your suits than you do Greg’s?”

“No, I see your point darling.”

“That is all this is my love, different sizes of clothing cost different amounts. If it is a problem I can just see about getting some of my old gowns altered to make them somewhat nicer for the new season, that way you would not have to spend as much.”

“What? No. Darling, this is not about the money, I was merely worried that that woman had tried to take advantage of you, charging you far more than Eloise for the same thing. I couldn’t care less about the money. In fact, I think you should get ten more gowns made, show everyone in the Ton that I am married to the most voluptuous, sensual, and desirable woman in the world.” He pulled you closer to him so that you were standing in between his spread knees, you still standing over him as he leaned back in his chair.

Anthony began training kisses up and down the arm that he had grasped within his hand. Turning your wrist over so that he could place one at the center of your palm.

“I do not need ten new gowns, Anthony, that is far too much.” You giggled and protested, feeling more enamored with the man you married with every word out of his mouth.

“Perhaps I shall buy you ten diamond necklaces then so that I can have an excuse to stare at your chest as often as I’d like.” You snorted and gently smacked the back of his head. “Anthony Bridgerton, that is scandalous talk and you know it.”

“Nothing is scandalous between husband and wife, especially when the two are alone.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and lifted the corners of his lips into a sultry grin, one that had your knees feeling weaker by the second.

“All I really need, dear husband, is you.”

A smile that you could only consider adoring spread across your husband's face.

“And I you, my love.”

“No Anthony, I need you.”

His grin turned to a full-blown smirk spreading across his face, “Well, what the Viscountess needs she gets…”

;)

#anthony bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x wife!reader #anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #plus size reader #fanfic #plus size!reader #fluff #requests open #requests wanted

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gyuwoncheol · 1 year

Text

Let Me Love You

Pair: Scoups x f!reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, established relationship, 18+ only (MDNI)

Summary: You just want to shower Cheol with all the love and softness in the world and he’s determined to do the same.

Warnings: sickening fluff, big dick!Cheol, porn with plot, very brief wrist pinning, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), nipple play (f. receiving), allusions to subspace, multiple orgasms, back scratching, grinding, unprotected piv sex (stay safe kids), creampie, bulge kink, begging, swearing, dirty talk, hair pulling, marking, pet names, crying during sex (only cause the dick is so good but not mentioned as a kink), just them being so madly in love. Lmk if i missed smth!

WC: 5.3k

Note: completely self indulgent because i’m down BAD for Cheol. Plus, I really do believe in getting your boyfriend flowers too. I know Cheol would just LOVE it.

“What are these?” Seungcheol started the moment your face appeared on his screen, waving the bouquet in his hands

“Well hello to you too” you greeted, “and those are flowers”

“For?”

“For you, silly” you smiled, leaving a very dumbfounded Seungcheol on Facetime. His brows knitted together even more, eyes questioning your answers and the fact that you’re so nonchalant about it all.

Just 10 minutes ago, one of the staff handed him a buoquet of flowers when they called for lunch break during rehearsals and had told him it was from you

“Ooooh, Coups hyung has floooowersssss” DK had teased, only to call the attention of all 12 boys much to Sungcheol’s chagrin

While Joshua complimented the pretty pink wrapper and yellow ribbon that wrapped around the lilies and carnations, the rest of the boys teased their leader playfully. With Seungkwan even threatening that Cheol might have forgotten an important anniversary date of sorts and this was your way of expressing passive agression.

That was when Seungcheol’s overthinking went into overdrive. He was about 500% sure that wasn’t it, he never forgets milestone dates with you, but then again he had been very busy the past few weeks as they geared up for their Japan comeback. Maybe, just maybe, he did forget something which is why he quickly ran to his studio, flowers in hand and your facetime already on dial, his lunch long forgotten.

“Jagi, i’m being serious here”

You giggled at the sight of your boyfriend’s pout, “I am being serious too! Those are for you, baby. Didn’t you read the card?”

“I did! But is this a prank? Did I do something wrong? I didn’t forget a date, did i? Are you mad at—”

“Woah woah, Cheol, slow down” you interrupted, “i’m not mad. You did nothing wrong. Am i not allowed to simply get my baby some flowers?”

“Uhh… yes??” He responded, the statement sounding more like a question

“Yes, i’m not allowed?”

“Yes— i mean, no..” Seungcheol stuttered, “well, okay but why?!”

“Just because!” You shrugged on screen, highly amused by the confusion written all over your boyfriend’s face

“But baby, i’m supposed to get you flowers, not the other way around” he explained, admittedly feeling a tiny bit emasculated by the fact you got him flowers. He was used to getting flowers when they won awards or attended shows but no one has actually ever given him flowers for him alone

“Hey now! There is no such rule that only boyfriends can give flowers! I personally believe that boyfriends deserve getting flowers too!”

Seungcheol was opening his mouth, about to retaliate when you interrupted him once more, albeit softer this time, “Cheollie, those are for you. From me. I know you’ve been busy and tired lately, so i thought sending you some flowers might brighten up your day… the same way mine always does when you get me some”

He glanced at the buoquet of flowers sitting on his desk and then at you, the sweetest smile on your face and your eyes filled with love and that’s when it really hit him that this truly was a genuine gesture from you. You saw through the screen how a light blush slowly crept on his cheeks, his face shifting from that of confusion to being flustered.

“So… t-they’re really for me?”

“Mhmm.. all yours”

The shyest smile erupted from your boyfriend, the crinkles on his eyes appearing, “i love you baby. Thank you for these.”

Cheol held the flowers close to him, inhaling the sweet scent of lilies and actually giving the flowers a good look this time, noticing that it was actually big enough to cover his face and then some more. He loved the flowers you picked and the foliage accents that came with it, noting that you thought hard about what to put together to suit his liking.

“I love you too, baby. I’m proud of you.” You reminded

If he wasn’t a flustered mess awhile ago, then he surely is now. It’s not every day he gets treated like this, and when he thinks about how most boyfriends don’t actually get treated like this, his heart skips a beat at just how special he feels to have you in his life, simultaneously making a mental note to return the favor and give you all his love too.

“Cheol?” You called out, stepping out of your shoes and dropping your keys by the bowl near the door. It was late but for Seungcheol to be home at this time was still considered early. It was usual for rehearsals these days to stretch into the wee hours of the night.

You cleared your throat again as you stepped into the kitchen where Seungcheol was humming along with the soft r&b music that flowed through the speakers, his attention being occupied by the whole chocolate cake he was pulling out the box

“Jagi!” He exclaimed loudly, arms already opening wide and approaching you for a big hug. Your feet lifted off the ground as Seungcheol effortlessly picked you up and peppered kisses all over your face, reducing you to a giggly mess

“Someone’s in a good mood” you mused as he sat you on the counter with one sweet kiss on your lips and his arms still around your waist, “and you’re home early”

“Mhmm. Told the boys i needed to do some damage control after you sent the flowers”

“Cheol, we’ve been over this, you didn’t do—“

“I know, i know” he squeezed you where his hand rested on your hips, “i just said that to get me out early” a proud grin on his face.

“Babe!”

“What? It’s okay… you know they hate it when i get sulky when we’re fighting. They basically kicked me out of there”

“But that’s a lie! We’re not fighting, and you’re definitely not sulking”

“They don’t need to know that. And it’s okay, we had perfected the dance already” your boyfriend smirked, just happy he finally got some time with you before bed “cmon, there’s lots to do”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like cutting this cake i bought for you” a sheepish smile on his face, “i tried to go get you flowers too but by the time i got there, they were closing down and didn’t have your favorite ones, so i got the next best thing”

You cupped your boyfriend’s cheeks, erasing the pout that formed during his explanation, “my favorite chocolate cake is most definitely the next best thing, and besides, you didn’t even have to get me flowers, honey. Could you please just let the flower giving today be for you? I just want to shower you with random gifts too without you having to do anything back. Just let me love you, pleaaaase?”

With a scrunched nose, Cheol buried his face on your chest, “i don’t knoooow” he whined, “just— just maybe not in front of the boys again? Your gifts make me shy”

The laugh you let out was boisterous and loud and shook the whole of your body, “aww, did the leader get teased by his members today?”

“Yes. And it was NOT fun! Mingyu even got mad at me before i left, told me i needed to learn to say sorry first when we have fights”

You cooed at your boyfriend’s words, always happy to know that his members also had your back whenever they think Seungcheol did something bad to you

“Hey, but isn’t that the same train you rode on to get out of work early today?”

“Yes, but i didn’t want to be teased” he sulked

“Okay, big boy. No more flower deliveries in front of your brothers next time. Now, can we please eat that cake already?”

The treat right next to you was calling your name, it had been your favorite since you were in university and when Seungcheol had quickly discovered that if there was one sure fire way to get your spirits up, it would be a slice of that chocolate cake, he always made sure to get it for you on every celebration and apology. He delicately transfered a massive slice onto a plate before feeding you a forkful of it, a smile on his face watching you devour it as your legs happily swayed from the counter.

This, right here, in this kitchen with you and your cake and him and his flowers is what it’s all about, Seungcheol thought.

“Baby…” your boyfriend started shyly, “will you help me fix my flowers?”

“Of course, my love. How do you want them?”

“In a vase, on my bedside table” he answered without hesitation “so that i can see it right away when i wake up”

“Wow, looks like you haven’t thought this through at all, huh?” You teased, happy to know that the flowers were a successful gift

“You can’t blame me! They’re so pretty!”

A deeper blush painted Cheol’s cheeks, he hated to admit it but he did absolutely love the flowers you got him. To him, it was ultimately the nicest random gesture he’s ever gotten from someone he loved. Now he understood why you— and most girls— loved receiving flowers.

The both of you fell into a comfortable conversation as you arranged his flowers nicely in a vase while he fueled you with never ending forkfuls of cake.

When you had both retired to the bedroom, dishes cleaned in the kitchen and lights turned off, you happily set the vase of flowers on his bedside table like he asked

“Is this okay?”

“Mhmm.. more than okay” Seungcheol’s strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, “they’re beautiful…” his lips ghosted on your neck as he admired the light colored petals

“You’re beautiful.” He said just slightly above a whisper with a wet open mouthed kiss on your neck

Your breath hitched when you felt him suck at the spot just below your ear, the air in the bedroom suddenly feeling hot and heavy. Sungcheol flattened his wet tongue on the spot to soothe it but only to resume sucking on it again. The repetitive motion surely leaving a bruise on its wake and making you weak on the knees as your hands gripped on his arms around your waist for support

“You like that, baby?” A low growl rumbled through his chest that sent tingles right between your legs

You wanted to say yes but all you could muster was a nod

“Words, baby”

“Yes!” You exhaled in a rush, rubbing your thighs together for reprieve

Your boyfriend squeezed your waist tighter, teasing “want more?”

You eagerly nodded, not one to waste time. Given Cheol’s schedule and your fair share of busy days in the office, it’s been a while since you both had been intimate

“I said, i need words”

“Cheollie, p-please” you whimpered so desperately

Luckily for you, Seungcheol had missed feeling you too and didn’t plan to tease you so much tonight. He pushed you onto the bed, and with way too much force, his hands pulled your dress shirt open, sending buttons flying to different directions

“Cheol!” You shrieked, but he couldn’t care less.

As one hand worked on getting you out of the blouse, his other hand skilfully unhooked your bra, exposing your breasts to him. You saw him lick his lips before hungrily diving in for your left nipple sucking and kissing and biting while his other hand all but traced the area around your right nipple lazily. The contrasting experience your breasts got had you writhing under his weight and clawing at his back to pull his own shirt off him

“Babe!” You called out loudly, snapping Seungcheol out of boobie land, “your shirt! Off! Please!”

A devilish smirk flashed on his face at your demand, he really loved it when you used your words in the bedroom. It had been something he’d taught you to do early on in your relationship when he realised you’d been biting your lips so much just trying to hold back from saying anything. He liked to hear you say what you want and did not want, and he especially loved it when you were being loud.

He reached over at the back of his shirt to pull it off in one swift motion, throwing the white oversized tee to the ground. Your eyes grew larger at the sight of his bare chest but before you could even do anything, his hand had snatched both your wrists and pinned them above your head

“Happy?” He asked, his biceps flexing above you as his eyes turned a few shades darker

“No” was the answer that came out of your mouth that shocked your boyfriend, “i want you to kiss me” you challenged

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips latching onto yours immediately with fervor, happy to have found that you had already given access for his tongue to explore your mouth. There was no point in fighting for dominance, you were happy to submit yourself to Cheol, happy to just be held and loved by him after a while. With every move he made, the more wetness pooled in your panties, and as you lifted your hips to gain some friction, Seungcheol was quick enough to push your hips back down to the mattress

"Easy, baby. Don't worry, I got you" he assured, finally giving you a chance to refill on oxygen and tangle your hands in his hair when your wrists were set free

He trailed down your body, covering every inch of your torso with wet open kisses, each second that held him back from where you wanted him just driving you crazy. And he knew this. You knew he knew it too, with the way he stopped right above the hemline of your pencil skirt only to look up to you with the most lust filled eyes

"Baby, please... I need you right now"

"Nuh uh" he chastised, his hands working on sliding the zipper down, loosening up your skirt so he could take it off you. "Need to taste you first" He said with another growl that has once again caused wetness to rush in your cunt

In a most lewd act, you stared dumbfounded at your boyfriend who buried his nose on your covered pussy, taking a deep inhale all while his eyes remained on yours, "You smell so fucking good, i can't wait to devour you"

And devour you, he did. Your panties coming off in record time, his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking like it was the last piece of lollipop on earth. His teeth grazed at the sensitive bud before soothing it with a kiss and a hard suck, something he knew would make your eyes roll back. When you felt his finger travel up your slit, a strangled moan ripped out your throat, making your boyfriend smirk like a mad man.

"God baby, you're so wet, you'll suck my fingers right in"

You would've disagreed if you didn't just hear the squelch that reverberated in the room when Seungcheol dipped his middle finger in your hole. Barely five pumps in and he thought it enough to already add a second digit, making your back arch off the mattress and tears prick in your eyes. A tight knot in your stomach making itself felt as you smiled, missing the feeling of an oncoming orgasm.

"Fuck, Cheol!" you said through gritted teeth, the sensation of his fingers massaging your walls and his thick lips tugging at your clit was nothing short of heaven. His long fingers grazing the rough velvety spot inside you was enough to make you see stars

"Babe, I-i.. W-won't last l-long" You warned, the knot on your abdomen coiling as tight as the grip you had on his scalp

"Hold on a little more, yeah?" your boyfriend requested, a determined look on his face when he looked up at you, a slight sheen on his face, "I Haven't even gotten a full taste yet"

"THEN HURRY THE FUCK UP, CHEOL!" You screamed, slamming your fists on the bed, making Seungcheol laugh at your frustration

"YES, MAAM!" he agreed, pulling his fingers out of you to form a perfect salute right before he sucked your juices from his fingers. Your whine at the loss of contact however, had quickly transformed into a moan when his wet tongue dove into your cunt. The slurping sound he produced being the most unholy thing you've heard tonight.

"FUUUUUUCK" You drawled out, shaking helplessly as you fought so hard to hold the orgasm that was begging to explode. You were right there, teetering off the edge.

But the idiot below you had other plans, detaching his mouth at the exact moment you were ready to fall. A struggled sob racked through you. The knot that was so tight started to feel like it was moving away.

"Cheooool" You scolded pathetically with a whimper

"You taste like honey" He declared proudly above your pussy, the widest grin plastered on his face. It would've been innocently cute if he just wasn't glistening with your juices and if he didn't just deprive you of the one thing you've been longing for for weeks now.

"I wanna cum" you sobbed. It was supposed to come out like a bratty demand, but alas, that attitude can only last so long. "Please baby... let me cum"

Bless Seungcheol's tongue, you thought. Because as quickly as the feeling went away, so did its return. And this time, with twice the intensity. He licked a fat stripe on the expanse of your pussy, stopping to swirl by your clit before diving back down to your hole.

It was when his thumb drew circular motions in sync with his tongue that you truly felt delirious

"Cum for me, baby" He said just above a whisper but it's all you heard. In mere seconds, the dam broke and your orgasm hit you like a wall, knocking the air out of your lungs and blacking your vision.

Your body shook and your thighs trembled, trapping Seungcheol's head in between. You wanted to push him away, fearing the overstimulation that you knew was fast approaching, but you were so far gone, like you had just ran 5 marathons straight. All while he was happily lapping up every single drop you were willing to give. Your orgasm seeming to last wave after wave sending you to a place only Choi Seungcheol could.

"Cheol, what the fuck was that?" You whimpered when your senses started kicking in and his face was now inches from yours

He hummed at the sex-crazed look on your face, "hmmm. just the best meal of my life" proudly grinning once again before kissing you on the lips

You moaned in agreement, tasting yourself on him, your brain still reeling from the orgasm you just had. Your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss when you started to feel the sensation of your limbs again. Admittedly, you were exhausted to your very core, but when you felt your boyfriend's painfully hard cock against your thigh, it's like your body willed itself to reenergize.

Seungcheol felt your fingernails trace his spine, his jaw going slack at the sensation, allowing you enough chance to have your tongue explore his mouth. He loved it when you scratched and traced his back. And he surely loved kissing you. As morbid as it was, he always said that he could immediately die after making out with you and he would die a happy man. So lost in the feel of your mouth on his, he slightly jumped when he felt you palm his cock through his sweats.

"Babe" he reprimanded, creating a small space between your bodies

"Cheollie" you whined, "you haven't— you haven't even..."

He chuckled incredulously at your words, surprised you still had it in you to go another round after he surely witnessed you cross another dimension from a long overdue orgasm, "Baby, it's okay. You're exhausted, and I can take care of this myself. Just want to make you feel good…. Jus’ wanna love you"

"Then do it" You replied breathlessly, "Make love to me, Cheol"

Your bedroom smelled of sex but when Choi Seungcheol looked at you, your eyes big and doey, full of love more than lust, the brightest smile grew on his face, his cheeks almost hurting. He couldn't even mask it if he wanted to. It's like time had momentarily stopped for him as you laid there bare against his body, caged in between his arms, face inches just away from yours that he could feel your every breath tickle his lips. His heart was exploding with so much love and care and happiness that he could hear his own heartbeat sync with yours. Make no mistake: your bedroom smelled of sex, but in that moment, there was nothing but pure love in that room.

"y/n, are you sure?" He asked one more time, cupping your cheek to make sure you were back to reality and you would answer him consciously.

You nodded softly at his words, your own hand coming to hold his, "Yes, I need you to make love to me, Cheol" you repeated loud and clear and with conviction, your hands pulling at the material of his sweatpants to get it off him

Seriously, his cheeks were hurting from smiling too much as he helped you get himself out of his boxers next. Your mouth immediately salivating at the sight of his dick slapping hard against his stomach. His tip was an angry shade of red, leaking with precum and god you just wanted so badly to suck him off. But that would be reserved for another time, maybe in the morning, you thought.

"I love you, baby" were the words that came out of his mouth when he once again lay atop of you, grinding his cock on your pussy to coat it with your slick

"i love you, too" You said with a whince when you felt his tip breach your entrance.

"Breathe, jagi. Breathe." Seungcheol reminded you as he slowly entered you with every inch. Sure he had just given you the best foreplay of your life, but he knew himself that his fingers were only a fraction to the size of him. He especially knew that it had been awhile since you both had sex so the initial pain was definitely to be felt. His eyes were trained on your face and he noticed every sharp inhale, every shudder and whince, and every lip bite you did as you patiently took on his hard cock, knowing that soon enough the pain would turn into immeasurable pleasure. Seungcheol was breathing loudly as he continued pushing in slowly, hoping to get your breath to sync with his.

"Doing so good for me, jagi" he whispered repetitively into your ears.

When he finally bottomed out, he stayed completely still for you, feeling your nails claw at his back as if finding something to ground yourself onto

"I'm right here, y/n. Right here." He reminded you with a call of your name, resting his chin on the crook of your neck which ought to do the trick for you. You were lucky enough to have your boyfriend know you like the back of his hand. It's what made sex with him always so intimate and sacred despite the very dirty things he was actually doing to you.

"Cheollie, please move" You whimpered when you couldn't take the stillness anymore

Your boyfriend grinded on you to make sure of your request and when you moaned out his name in pleasure, he was assured you had asked him correctly. Seungcheol withdrew his full length, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you before slamming back in. The motion alone sending you higher on the mattress which made him grunt at the sight.

"Fuck baby, you're so fucking tight" He groaned, the feeling of your walls fluttering on his cock just sending him into a craze of thrusting in and out of you

You could feel every vein on his cock, as he pumped continuously. His balls slapping against your skin just adding to the lewd noises that your pussy was making as it took in all of your boyfriend's girthy length.

He dipped his head low and captured your right nipple on his mouth during one particular thrust of his cock and the overwhelming feeling had your back arching off the mattress for the nth time that night, tears once again pricking your eyes at how good everything just felt

"B-babe.." you struggled to form words, "Ha..Hard—harder please!" You rushed out

He was done teasing you awhile ago, now, he was going to make love to you like you so politely asked.

"what my baby wants, my baby gets" Seungcheol said assuringly, like he was rallying a battalion of soldiers. In one swift motion, he hooked your right leg on his shoulders and thrusted in you so deep, a string of profanities leaving your mouth as your second orgasm washed over you without so much as a warning. You were rendered so speechless that your boyfriend couldn't help but chuckle

"Fucking you so good, you can't even tell when you're cumming huh?" He said with a cocky smirk on his face, completely driving you insane.

You wanted to form words, tell him how good he was, how good you felt, how you wanted to stop to process what just happened, but also needed more, but all your brain could do was form incoherent noises. This only prodded Cheol to grind his body on yours, leaving open mouthed kisses on your face and lips as you tried to make sense of that orgasm that came out of nowhere

“You like this baby? Like my cock inside your tight pussy?“ he continued, reveling at the fact that he had just made you cum for the second time that night

Your boyfriend hooked your other leg on his shoulder to effectively fold you in half with every thrust, hitting you so deep that you could feel him in your cervix.

"Cmon baby, one more yeah?" He asked with a deep groan.You couldn't even deny him of his favor, not when the new angle he's put you on already had another orgasm forming in your stomach so quickly.

He would deliciously shift between thrusting and grinding, you simply thanked the heavens you had a boyfriend who knew how to move his body so well.

You experimentingly pressed your hand on the bulge that formed on your stomach where his cock would hit and in a flash, Seungcheol felt his own orgasm hot in his heels. He was so focused in making you feel good tonight that he forgot just how much he needed to cum too. The sight of him so deep in you, your boobs bouncing with every thrust, it was the perfect recipe to just drive him off the edge.

"Babe— Baby... I won't last..." He tried to say, his attention focusing on hitting your gspot with every thrust to get you there with him

"I- I know babe" you confirmed, not a stranger to the way his hips would stutter and his left brow would rise when he was about to come undone

You tightened your hold on him, your pussy sucking him in so tight making it harder for him to withdraw. He loved feeling your hole spasm. You brought him down to you by the neck, your mouth latching onto his collar bone to suck intently, willing it to turn purple by tomorrow. Cheol whimpered at the sensation, feeling delirious himself.

"Babe—"

"Cum in me, Cheollie" you interrupted him, "Give me all your love"

Like magic words, Seungcheol came undone, his warm seed painting your walls white as he panted for air. His orgasm lasted so long that it set off your third one. Your cum mixed together as you both trembled from your own highs, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

When he felt his toes finally uncurl, he collapsed onto the bed but not without rolling you on top of him so that he was still inside you. You could already feel your mixed sticky cum slowly leak out your pussy and onto his thighs but you couldn’t bother for now. You just wanted to stay close to Cheol as much as possible, ghosting your lips at the expanse of his chest, leaving lovebites in your wake.

After sex cuddles with your boyfriend was always like getting your favorite dessert after a hearty meal. And you knew this one would be extra special, especially after having such an intimate time together after so long. Not to mention the precious after care Seungcheol would shower you with in a few minutes.

"I love you, jagi" you said, using the nickname he uses for you on him and adoring the happiness that adorned your boyfriend's face

His eyes smiled at you, holding you tight against his chest, "I love you too, baby"

A cold bed was not what you expected to wake up to after the night you just had with your boyfriend, but it seems that at 6:32am, when you finally shut off your alarm, and decided to open your eyes, it was what you were greeted with. Cheol wasn't in his spot. You groaned audibly, annoyed at the fact that you woke up alone, but moreso because everything just felt sore down there. You knew Cheol hadn't left for work yet, his phone was still on his bedside table.

Speaking of the bedside table, it looked awfully empty and that's when it hit you: His vase of flowers were gone. Did he suddenly hit them and break the vase? Surely, you would've heard it shatter to the floor if that was the case. The sudden curiosity in your mind was enough to get you out of bed, albeit, wincing at every step you took down the stairs.

"Baby?" you called out when you heard Cheol's distant humming

"Kitchen, my love"

You caught him redhanded as you entered the kitchen, half of his flowers outside the vase while he tried to rearrange the other half that's left in it. A sheepish smile on his face, "Good morning"

"Hmm... morning" You grumbled, immediately gravitating to his side to get some warmth, your face burrowing on his chest, "I wanted to wake up beside you" you complained

"Sorry, baby. I just got used to leaving so early for work"

"But you don't start until later at 9am you said. So why didn't you stay in bed?" You countered, not even caring that you were now full on whining like a kid throwing a tantrum

Your boyfriend felt bad but not as much as he was enjoying your little fit

"Sorry, baby" He said again, turning you to face him while he cupped your cheeks with his large hands, leaving a quick peck on your forehead "it's just that when i woke up the first thing i saw were your flowers— my flowers. And then I looked at you and I was just so happy, I can't even explain it. Like nothing could ruin my day. So I took the vase cause I want to transfer some of them. I'll leave half of them on my bedside table, and the other half i'll put in another vase I can bring to work and place in my studio. That way, i'll be reminded of you… and then work won't feel so gloomy after all" he grinned, more than proud of his wonderful idea.

With the way Seungcheol enthusiastically explained his plan, you couldn't be mad. It tugged at your heart strings how happy the simple gesture of gifting him flowers was. You pinched his cheeks softly, endeared at the handsome, happy face smiling back at you. "I love you, Cheol"

If every night ended up like last night and your boyfriend was this excited every day he got flowers, you made a mental note to make a subscription at the flower shop for flowers delivered especially for Choi Seungcheol.

2K notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 11 months

Text

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh. while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

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#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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oh-look-at-her · 7 months

Text

"I can do....terrible things to you."

Pairing: agardian!reader x Loki

Warnings: profanity, PinV, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it), oral sex(f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, use of pet names (Prince, princess, pet, dearest, etc), Loki is a warning in itself, degradation, mocking, name calling (just once I think), choking (for a little while), just smut in general

Author's note: I just wanted to say this is my first ever written fic so have mercy on me. I just really wanted to use that sentence from the Loki series🤭It was also supposed to be shorter...it did not keep to that. I also wanted to say that with the word "undergarment" I do not mean modern day underwear. I mean undergarment as in from the 1700's (like depicted in the photo underneath this text). Don't ask me why I decided to do that, I don't know. I think I've just been watching too much Outlander these last few days. Alr I'll stop my rambling now. I hope everyone enjoys♡

“Oh dear gods, another ball. How many of these are they going to organize?” Was my first thought when Thor asked me to go as his guest yet again the other day. I thought I wouldn’t be going.

And yet, here i am. Standing in a corner in the main hall of the majestic golden palace that the formerly mentioned prince calls home, with a glass of liquor in one hand and a small snack i grabbed from a faraway table in the other. Though i did want to support Thor in his victories of the week, that was not the true reason i came to another loud party.

“Quite the partygoer lately. Tell me, is it just because you enjoy being around obnoxiously drunk people or are you trying to charm my dear brother?"

And there it is. The infamous Loki Odinson, prince of Asgard, God of mischief and lies, to the irritation of many people. I know I wouldn't mind him getting mischievous at all though....

I eat the little one-bite snack in hopes of it distracting me from my thoughts, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Loki keeps talking with a grin on his face and a sultry tone to his voice.

"If it is the latter, I suggest you stop, since he seems to have quite the interest in that other woman he's been eyeing all night."

I give him the best cocky look I can muster and answer back; "Thor does not have any interest in me and neither do I in him. He gets to ogle whoever he wishes, I thought you would know this, being his brother. Tell me, where is the sudden interest in your brother's love life coming from, dear prince."

"Oh please, a blind man would know he was shamelessly into her. Besides, how could I not be interested when my brother continuously invites the same woman to his... Celebrations."

He ogles me suspiciously, as if he doesn't believe I wasn't interested in that loveable blonde buffoon. I myself have a different type of God in mind. I opt to try and change his mind.

"Thor and I are friends. Why are you so interested in this?"

He hums dismissively and ogles the ongoing party.

"No interest in dancing?" he changes the subject.

"No, this dress is not a dancing type dress. Too tight and heavy. I should've opted for another, but it's too late now." he looked my dress up and down as I spoke, seemingly uninterested, though his tone of voice said otherwise.

"Well, beauty over functionality, isn't it? Seems as if you've succeeded in that area, at least."

My stomach flips and the corners of my mouth lift up into a faint taunting smile as I look up at him. "You think I look beautiful?"

He looks back at me, a faint trace of surprise tainting his expression. "Well yes, I wouldn't have said what i did if I did not think it. When have I ever been known to lie about my opinions, dearest?"

My mind jumps at the mention of the pet name and the compliment paired with it and although I tried to hide my surprise, the faint smirk on the God's face tells me enough. Nevertheless, I look at him with a playful light in my voice.

"Well, you are the god of lies. I would expect you to live up to this Title, as you do your other titles."

"Ah, and what titles are these, pray tell?" he asks as he looks at me with disdain, as if I offended him.

"Those of you being the god of mischief, as well as a relentless trickster. Though people say you usually can't do much harm." I chuckle at Sif's offensive words towards the prince of Asgard.

He chuckles with me, though I suspect because of something else, because his expression had turned darker, his gaze falling on mine again.

"Well, I assure you that I can do... Terrible things to you and anybody I wish."

He says in a low, dark voice, his unrelenting gaze catching the widening of my eyes and the heaving of my chest at his threatening words. Although his words do anything but scare me.

Is that a promise? I think to myself, my mind running wild with the different context his words could be said in.

He grins at me, still not letting his eyes wander from mine. "Do you want it to be?" he suddenly asks.

"What?" I manage to spurt out, shock and excitement having taken over my mind.

"Do you want it to be a promise?" he repeats his question with that same dark, knowing smile on his face.

Did I say that out loud? I'm certain I didn't.

"No, you didn't." he answers my thoughts once again and fear and embarrasment seep into my bones as I realize how he had known.

"How long have you been reading my mind?" I ask him with a shaky voice. He chuckles again, knowing he has the upper hand now. He drops his gaze to his shoulder gently touching mine. When did that happen?

"While you were inquiring why I was so interested in my brother's 'love life' as you put it."

Oh. My. Gods. He had seen and heard every single thing I had been thinking. How embarrassing. I wanted to dig a hole to Hel and stay there until I had melted into the fires forever.

"That's a bit dramatic." he tells me. I move away from him with a scowl, taking care that we didn't touch anymore so he couldn't read my mind any longer, but he already knew all of it. He had heard all my lewd thoughts about him and he thought it funny.

He still has that annoyingly handsome smirk plastered on his face as he gestures for us to move away from the busy crowd and into the halls that lead to various rooms. I decide to follow him. All the harm that could be done had already been done, so why not? He knew it all now. He is silent as we walk through the halls, muffled music still being heard from the party.

"You know, I would expect you to say something...." I trail off as he stops walking and opens a door we arrived at. He gestures for me to enter the room.

It is a lavishly elegant room, accents of gold layered the cream colored walls, a nightstand with multiple drawers and a bed with silky sheets line the left wall, while the other side of the room is dedicated to a roaring fireplace and two lounge couches in the same shade of green as the silk sheets on the bed. In the middle of the wall I am facing, there is a lavish balcony that had a beautiful view towards Asgard. Loki walks towards the bed and sits down on the golden bench in front of it.

I stay by the door, looking at him expectantly, hoping he would clear up the fact that we just entered (what I presumed is) his room without a word being said. He sighs and finally opens his mouth.

"Yes, you're right. I should say something." he pauses for a moment, looking me up and down, though this time not in a rude manner. No, this time it felt more like... Admiration. The God of Mischief and Lies is looking at me with admiration.

"You're a beautiful woman. I must say, I had my eye on you ever since you entered this castle for the first time. Though I thought my brother had claimed you for his own, due to him always inviting you to these gatherings. When you told me this wasn't the case, I decided to see if you were being truthfull or not. I must admit, it was an invasion of your privacy, but I do not regret it one bit."

He gestures for me to join him and sit next to him. I oblige and walked over to him, opting to stand due to the uncomfortability of my dress. He notices this and looked down with a smile gracing his lips.

"So yes, what I said is true. You are beautiful, though this dress could never do you justice. Plus, you seem incredibly uncomfortable in it."

I scoff at his words. "What, are you going to offer to take it off of me? I've heard that line a thousand times, it is not original. Besides, I very well think this dress makes me look exquisite. Why else would I wear it?"

"I did not say you didn't look beautiful in the dress. I am merely noting that it does not do you justice." he answers cockily

"And what would do me justice then, Prince?" I spit back at him, getting a little annoyed at his degrading tone, making my mind wander to unholy places once more.

His low chuckle echoes in my ears. Gods, that chuckle. It's so... Seductive.

"Won't tell, princess." the pet name surprises me. Sure, I had called him Prince, but he is a genuine Prince. I feigned nonchalance.

"Ah, there it is. Let me guess, you'd have to take off my dress to show me?" his playful expression turns into one of ice, filled with lust and seduction. It was a thrilling sight to see.

"You'd let me." he said, with full confidence, because he knew it was true. I didn't need to answer him as he stands and closes the small distance between us, making me look up because of his obnoxiously tall figure.

The playful twinkle in his eye had been replaced with something dark, possessive almost. My breath hitches in my throat as his hand ghosts up until it reached the dip of my waist, pulling me impossibly closer to him.

And I let him.

His gaze was ice cold as he inspected my entire face and figure again. Gods, I love it when he does that. He dips his head until I feel his breath near my ear.

"I know." he whispers into my ear. This asshole was reading my mind any time he could, but even if i could stop him, I don't think i would. He lifts his head to look at me again, this time a devillish smirk is playing at the corners of his mouth again.

Please kiss me already.

I beg to myself and I know he heard it. He finally dips his head down to my lips, I part them as I desperately await his kiss. He doesn't kiss me yet, though. He chuckles at my sigh of frustration, though it sounds more like a whine than I had intended.

His amused and torturous gaze lands on my desperate one. "What is it, pet?" he whispers against my lips. So close.... He knows exactly what he's doing. Of course he does. I'd waited so long, stayed up so many nights because of the thought of him being this close. Or closer....

My eyebrows furrowed at the thought of these nights and I know he saw. I know he knows exactly what I'm thinking, but I don't care. I want him. And I'll have him.

"Will you, now? Last I checked, I'm the Prince here. You are under my command, are you not?" he outright laughs at my attempt to kiss him, get him closer to me in any way. He moves away from me, opting to move towards one of the lavish Green couches on the other side of the room. He looks at me over his shoulder while he did so, plaguing me, teasing me with the distance he's creating.

I stare at my hands, nervously playing with my fingers whilst trying not to grieve the loss of his touch. His hand on my waist, His chest pressing against mine, his lips so close to mine... I hear him walking around for a bit while I'm still fidgeting with my fingers, not daring to look his way unless asked.

"Don't get shy now, pet. Look at me." I lift my head to see him sitting comfortably on the couch, his fine asgardian leather suddenly having been replaced with a pair of comfortable looking black lounge pants and... No shirt.

He's trying to get under my skin, I know it. But I don't care one bit as I let my gaze travel along the impressive muscle tone of the Prince, trailing from his shoulders to his chest, from his chest to his toned abs, from his abs to that perfect V-shape that's only disrupted by the thin fabric of his pants.

I let my eyes wander further up now, admiring the strong biceps and, Gods, those perfectly veiny arms. And finally those hands...i could stare at them all day, just the sight of them makes me almost want to drool.

He's so perfect. And he knows it as I finally meet his icy gaze and that same goddamn smirk that made my heart freeze and my hands tremble.

He knows it when he gestures for me to walk towards him and close the distance he so painstakingly created just a minute ago.

He knows it when he stands before me, pulling at the strong threads that were holding my dress together, making the first layer of my dress fall to the ground.

He knows it when he carefully unties my corset with gentle patience, unlacing it with his slender fingers and finally taking it off of me.

He knows it when I'm standing before him in my undergarment, looking me up and down, not with just hunger or lust, but with adoration and relief. The sheer fabric does nothing to hide my body, even showing off my nipples that had hardened due to the cold night air.

And gods, does he know it when he guides my arms to lay on his shoulders, peppering tender kisses onto every inch of skin he can find, pulling me closer and finally granting me the kiss I had been longing for ever since I had seen him for the first time.

His lips capture mine so perfectly in a dance of passion, not at all what I had expected from a God of mischief. I had expected something feral, completely driven by lust. Hel, I'm not sure I even expected him to outright kiss me. No, this exceeds all my expectations.

He carefully bites my lower lip, granting him entrance to lick inside my mouth and taste me, deepening the kiss. The feeling of excitement and arousal growing with every passing second.

He grinds himself into me, pulling me closer and closer. I can feel his cock getting hard through the fabric of his pants, making me clench my cunt around nothing. My hands roamed through his hair, not nearly as greasy as I had imagined, instead I am met with soft curls and a pretty sound coming from the Prince's lips as I tug at them.

He's everywhere. His arms around my waist, squeezing it tight and keeping me close to him. He overtowers me by far, and he has to lean down a distance even with me standing on my tiptoes to reach. His scent, his taste, his hands.

Gods, I need him. He breaks the kiss, but not without tugging at my bottom lip another time, a little rougher now, though.

His breath is steady, whereas mine is ragged and uncontrollable as he rests his forehead against mine, his lips still hovering so close to mine.

"I know, I need you too. You've no idea how long I've wanted you." he whispers, again answering my thoughts. I didn't mind this time, though. I want him to hear and see everything I am thinking. I want him to know what I want.

But that doesn't mean I'm not going to play first. He had been so gentle and loving and it feels so good to be worshipped, but that would have to wait for another time.

He lifts his head up to look at me. "What is it?" he asks, curiosity lacing his voice.

I smile at him, hoping it looks as seductive and entrancing as I want it to and take his hand, slowly guiding him towards the bed.

Upon reaching it, I lie down comfortably in the midst of the bed, tugging at him to do the same. He climbs on top of me, again ogling me with curiosity. This surprises me, if he was still reading my mind he would know what I am doing.

"Opting to not read my mind anymore?" I ask, with a smile.

"I thought it'd be more fun if I don't know exactly what you're going to do before you do it." he grins, seeing that this has pleased me. Now I can do what i want.

I tangle my hands in his hair again, watching his face as it contorts into a relaxed expression as I tug a bit at the strands again. I bring his lips to mine again, but this time, I want it to be different. I bite his lip roughly, making him open his mouth in surprise as I lick into him now, tasting berries and a tinge of alcohol on his tongue. I moan into his mouth at the taste and it seems he finally realized what I was trying to do. He kisses me back hungrily, seizing control again, much to my liking. He abruptly pulls away afterwards, much to my dismay.

He looks down at me with a knowing smirk on his face. "What's wrong, princess? Don't want me to be nice anymore? What do you want? Go on, say it. I know you know exactly what it is." he urges me on with a sultry tone to his words.

"Please...i want you to be mean to me."

"Really?" he feigns surprise, "whatever would you mean by that, darling?" he asks, starting to tease me by peppering kisses along my jaw.

"I want-" he shifts his body so he's lying perfectly on top of me. I can feel his cock rubbing against my clothed cunt and it sends a shiver down my spine. "Please just-" his kisses grow hungrier as he guides himself down to my neck. "Could you please be rough..." he bites down on my neck, emitting a gasp from me. I think that was his answer to my plea.

He is indeed rougher now, biting and suckling on the soft skin of my neck, gradually moving down... To my shoulder... To my collarbone... And then. The hem of my undergarment.

He looks at me while twirling his finger around the measly little thread. The only thing that's between him and my bare body. The only thing he'd have to loosen before slipping my last piece of clothing from me and leaving me bare. And that's exactly what he did.

He slowly, teasingly pulls at the thread and folds the fabric to the side, revealing my tits to him. He rips his eyes from mine and finally meets my bare chest, looking at it like a starved man would a plate of hot food.

He started where he left off, just below my collarbone he peppered kisses and bites again. Slow, agonizing, teasing movements until he finally reached my hardened nipple, waiting, aching for him.

He hungrily takes the sensitive bud into his mouth, suckling on it with rough movements, his hand coming up to cup my other boob roughly. I whine at the sensation, his tongue lavishly doing its job in pleasuring me.

After a while, he flashes me a devillish smile before moving onto the other nipple, suckling at the same pace, much to my relief as it is the perfect pace and he knows this.

I squirm underneath him, whining and moaning as he keeps suckling on my nipple, the sensation making me crave for more. I grind against his hard-on and I swear I heard a whimper coming from the Prince's mouth. He stills for a moment, his hands clawing at my hips to stop me from moving.

"Be patient, pet. Let me enjoy you." is all he says before continuing to suck on my tits, keeping me on edge and increasing my arousal a thousand fold while doing so.

His hands explored my body with rough motions. Grabbing my waist, squeezing it, fondling my tit. Finally he reaches my shoulders, his hands slide down the length of my arms and he grabs my hands before pulling his mouth off of my nipple.

He sits up straight and, while never breaking eye contact, brings my right hand up to his mouth and kisses it. A stark contrast to how he was sucking on my tits just a second ago, but not unwelcome. He kisses my wrist now, then my forearm, then my bicep, then my shoulder.

Then he switches his attention to my neck again, bruising and marking me, coaxing soft moans from me. There would be no way to cover up those spots, although I'm not sure I'd want to or if he would let me.

He continues his trail of kisses downwards again, this time dragging my undergarment down with him. He stopped for a moment to look at me again.

"Off." he gestures towards my undergarment. I obey and quickly slip off the feeble piece of fabric, discarding it on the floor next to his bed. Once I face him again, completely bare now, he looks at me with approval.

"Good girl." he whispers under his breath, but I heard. I smile at his words of praise as he looks me up and down hungrily. He leans down and, while maintaining eye contact, licked a stripe up my body from my hips to my chest.

I breathe out a moan at this scandalous action. He flashes me a cunning smile before biting my nipple gently, coaxing a surprised gasp from me. He continues biting and suckling on my skin, moving down... Down... Down. Until he reaches my thighs.

He wraps his hands around my knees and spread them apart as far as they'll go, slowly and teasingly he leans down again. He starts kissing my thigh, occasionally softly biting down to coax an unexpected whimper from me.

He finally inches closer to where I need him the most. He looks at my pussy with hunger in his eyes, licking his lips and looking up at me. He softly blows on it, making me moan from the sensation. I grab ahold of his locks again, hoping to be able to push him down and just make him have me already, but he doesn't let me.

"Impatient now, are we? I can certainly tell with how wet you are. Is this all for me, pet?" he asks me as his hands caress my thighs. I don't know how to answer him, so I just whine and buck my hips towards him, hoping that he gets the message.

He chuckles at my desperate attempts at seeking his tongue. "Please..." I beg, feeling nothing but longing for the god in between my legs in this moment. He sighs before demanding; "please what?"

"Please just take me already, Loki." I answer him in an annoyed tone, but before I can release a huff of annoyance, he licks a stripe from my hole to my clit. I moan languidly at the unexpected move.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes, Gods, yes." I sigh, throwing my head back.

He chuckles at my pathetic tone and starts lapping up the arousal that had been gathering all evening. He moans at the taste, reveling in it as he flicks his tongue over my clit.

His movements have me keening and bucking my hips as he fucks his tongue into me. People said he had a cunning tongue to him(although probably not in this context) and they were right. Gods, does he know how to eat a woman out.

His tongue laps at me at just the right pace, fucking in and out of my cunt, softly suckling on my clit. He brought his hand up to cup my tit as he did so, overwhelming my senses and making me grab onto his hair. This coaxed another moan out of him, sending vibrations throughout my body.

I can feel the coil in my stomach beginning to tighten. I'm close and he knows it, because he suddenly changes his original pace to a slower one, making me whine.

"Loki.... Don't be mean." I tell him.

He stops his movements altogether now, looking up at me with a cocky grin. "What's the matter, princess?" he feigns pity.

"You know exactly what, i was close." I huff, sexual frustration coaxing through my whole body.

He laughs at my attitude. "You don't get to decided when you cum, pet. I do. You are under my command now and what I say goes." he answers in a dark, possessive tone of voice.

His words make my stomach flip and my pussy clench around nothing. He's so attractive, I can't help it. He knows it, noting my reaction to his words. He lifts his head from between my thighs and climbs back on top of me, his face right in front of mine. I can't help but admire him, especially from this angle. His hair framing his face, his eyes piercing my own, his lips... In that sadistic smile.

"What? Do you like it when i control you? Do you want to be my toy, hm?" he whispers, looking me right in the eyes, never letting go of my gaze. He catches the widening of my pupils, the quickening pace of my breath, the desperation in my eyes. No, he doesn't need to read my mind to know how i feel.

He leans down, brushing his lips over mine. I try to catch his lips with mine, but he doesn't let me. He's teasing me again. I whine as he laughs at me.

He laughs at me. How dare he, when i want him so bad and I know he wants me too. How dare he, when he knows how desperate I am for his touch. How dare he, when I'm lying naked underneath him and he is denying me what I want.

"What is it? Annoyed? What do you want, princess?" he asked me tauntingly.

I lift up my hand to caress him. I let my hand slide higher up the back of his neck, having my fingers intertwine with his locks and pulling him down by them until my lips are right next to his ear. He lets me.

I lick at his earlobe experimentally and a soft moan comes from the God's lips that I enjoyed a little too much. I took his earlobe in my mouth and sucked on it a few times, making Loki melt on top of me.

I stop only to whisper in his ear; "I want you to fuck me." his entire demeanor changes as he looks me in the eyes. I'm suddenly hyper aware of my naked body and his hard length pushing against my thigh through his pants. The thought of him fucking me with it makes a pleasurable shiver run up my spine.

He flashes me a cunning smile and gets off the bed, leaving me cold and naked. His gaze scans over me while he takes off his lounge pants. My eyes land on his now bare cock, the sight making my mouth water and my pussy clench.

Gods, it looks delicious. I wouldn't mind having a taste of it. It's long yet still girthy and I'm suddenly nervous about the sheer size of it. He looks at me knowingly before finally getting on the bed again and on top of me. He settles in between my legs to admire me again.

"Turn around, pet." he commands. I do as he says and turn around, keeping myself upright with my knees and having my arms stretched out in front of me. He lets his hand travel the flesh of my thighs, the curve of my ass, the dip of my waist.

I can hear the sheets ruffling and I'm about to look behind me to see what he was doing, before I feel his tongue on my cunt again. I moan at the unexpected feeling. He laps at my pussy for a bit, drinking my arousal like it's his favorite beverage. He lets go of my waist and I feel his finger spreading my lips apart.

"So wet all for me. Look at that, pet. You're throbbing." fuck, and I can feel it as he uses his finger to spread my arousal through my pussy lips. The friction has me bucking my hips when i suddenly feel his finger probing at my entrance.

He pushes his slender finger inside of me, making me moan out his name. He curls his finger, making it hit that spongy spot inside of me. Gods, he's making me go feral. He pulls out his finger now, but before I can whine at the loss, he enters two fingers inside me.

He pumps his fingers in and out for a bit, but then switches to scissoring them inside my cunt, making me almost squeal in pleasure. He begins to lick at my clit again. The feeling of him sucking at the sensitive bud and scissoring his finger inside of me has me keening and the coil in my stomach quickly tightening.

My pussy clamps down on his fingers and he knows I'm about to cum. He suddenly stops all his movements, keeping his fingers inside my cunt, making me whine and mewl at my failed orgasm.

"Stop your whining. Didn't I tell you? I decide when you cum and I won't let you cum unless it's on my cock, do you understand?" I whine at his words, my mind being too far gone to string together coherent sentences to answer him.

"So pathetic for me. Look at you, lying there with your ass up just for me. And you like it, don't you?" I whine in response. "Of course you do, you're mine now. I'll do anything I want to you and you'll let me." he proves his point by spreading apart my ass cheeks and licking a stripe from my clit to my ass. I moan at the sensation.

"Do you want me to fuck you? Hm? Do you want me to make you mine?" he splays his hand down on my scalp, scratching it with his fingernails before tightly grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling me up against his chest.

"Yes! Yes, please, make me yours. Please, Loki." I beg pathetically, but I don't care. I want him to fuck me already and I'll say anything to make it so.

He harshly throws me down on the bed again, shoving my face into the pillow in the process. I yelp at the unexpected action. Loki's hand travels now from out of my hair, over my back, my waist, to my ass. His other hand pumps up and down his dick slowly.

He starts to tease me with the tip of his cock, guiding it through my folds and spreading my arousal and his precum. I moan at the feeling, bucking my hips because why is he not railing me yet?

He stops his movements, his cock stilling right where my entrance is. I'm about to ask him why he stopped when i feel the tip of his dick entering me. I let out a near pornographic moan. Fuck, is he gooood.

The stretch feels so good after all his teasing, but he's not pushing any more of his cock in. Instead, leaving just the tip and staying where he is. I whine when i realize this and he knows exactly why.

"What is it? You want more, pet? Don't be greedy, take what I give you." he says, with a degrading tone to his voice that makes my cunt squeeze down on him. He cursed at this notion, but stayed as he is. I try to buck my hips to get more of him, but his strong hands are keeping me in place.

"Please, come on, I've been good. Pleaseeee." I beg him. "Please, Loki, i-" before I can finish my sentence he thrusts his whole length into me in one swift movement, making me choke on a sob from the pain and pleasure.

He doesn't still to let me adjust. Instead, he sets a rough pace. Fucking in and out of me fast and deep. So fucking deep, I can feel him in my stomach. I'm sure that if I had the physical strength to reach, I would be able to feel a bulge in my stomach from his cock.

My curses are high pitched and incoherent as the snap of his hips continues. "That what you wanted? Did you want to be fucked like this, hm?" I sob at his words, too overwhelmed to say anything.

"Is it too much, pet? But you were just begging me to take you, begging me to make you mine."

"T-too much-" I manage to stutter out in between his thrusts.

"Shut up, you can take it." he says in a mean tone of voice that send a shiver down my spine. "You asked for it. This is what greedy whores get." my pussy squeezes him like a vice at the degrading name he called me. Fuck, did that turn me on.

"Oh, you like being called that, hm? You like being treated like a dumb bitch." he says, grabbing a handful of my hair again and lifting up my head. "Don't you?" he asks me, emphasizing his words with a deep thrust. I answer with a guttural moan. He seems content with that answer, though. A sadistic smile claiming his lips.

"Turn over." he says all of a sudden, pulling his cock out of me and I whine at the empty feeling before obeying his order and lying down on my back now.

He leans down again and catches my lips in an aggressive kiss. He licks at my bottom lip, into my mouth. He thrusts back inside of me fully, catching me off guard. He swallows the moan it coaxes out of me and starts thrusting at the same unforgiving pace.

I close my eyes, too far gone to keep them open from the pleasure. His hand snaked towards my neck and chokes me, making my eyes shoot wide open and my hand clamp on to his.

"There we go." he says with a smile. "Keep your eyes on me, pet." so I do. I try with all my might to keep my eyes on him. Gods, the choking isn't helping. My senses are all overwhelmed, completely focused on the feeling of his cock spearing into me.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

I hear him curse under his breath when i feel the coil in my stomach tightening for the third time this evening, making my pussy clamp down on him again.

"Fuck, so tight for me. You feel so good." he brings his free hand to my clit, rubbing calculated circles onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I wanna cum inside you. Let me?" it sounds more like a demand than a question, but I shakily nod my head anyway.

The coil in my stomach gets tighter by the second. The snapping of his hips, the squeezing of his hand on my throat, the circling of his thumb on my clit. All of it.

Tightening... Tightening....

"Cum for me, princess." he tells me.

The coil snaps and the best orgasm of my life rips through my body. My pussy clamps down on him like a vice, my eyes roll to the back of my head, my jaw falls slack. He fucks me through my high and I can hear him cursing at how tight I am.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum inside you." he curses, his pace growing sloppy as he's nearing his high. He keeps fucking up into me, making me cry out from overstimulation.

A string of curse words falls from his lips as I feel his hot cum painting my walls. He rides out his high, letting his body relax on top of me. He embraces me gently, a stark contrast to how he was fucking me just a second ago. His hips cease their rocking motion.

We lie there for a bit like that; Him carefully holding me, his cock growing soft inside of me. Our sweaty bodies unwinding and relaxing against each other. I come to after a bit, finally snapping out of my brainless daze.

"So you really thought that I was fucking your brother?" I ask him.

"Yes, I did." he sighs. I chuckle at his tired response.

"So what was your first thought when you read my mind and figured out I most certainly was not?"

"Surprise at the disgusting thoughts that courses through your head about me, mainly." he says tauntingly. "But also relief."

"Awhh how sweet." I coax.

"You know, I was right." he says in a cocky tone.

"About what?"

"That dress doesn't do you justice and I was exactly right about what does." he answers. I chuckle at his words.

"You know what I was also right about?"

"No, what's that, Prince?" I ask teasingly.

"You let me show you exactly what did do you justice, princess."

527 notes · View notes

soloroomies · 2 months

Text

lifemate (Chapter 12/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: the aftermath of your argument with him word count. 3.4k cw. marriage pact au, smut, fluff a/n. hi guys! it's finally the end of the story! thank u for everyone who's been waiting and enjoying this first fic of mine bc I really enjoy writing this, too!<3 see u on my other fics! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

Masterlist

As you slowly regain consciousness, the first sensation that hits you is the dull throbbing in your head. The room is dimly lit, and you squint against the soft light seeping through the curtains. Your mouth is dry, and there’s a sour taste lingering from too much alcohol. Your body feels heavy and sluggish, weighed down by the remnants of the night before. You blink a few times, trying to orient yourself. Fragments of last night’s events start to trickle back. Right. This is Tami’s hotel room.

You hear a sound from the bathroom, then Tami steps out. “Hey, you’re awake! Wait,” she says, grabbing a water bottle from the desk and fetching something from her bag. She hands you the water. “Here, drink this.”

She orders room service for breakfast, then sits next to you and places an ibuprofen on the desk beside you. “After you eat, if your head still hurts, you can take this, okay?” You nod while drinking from the water bottle she gave you. Your head is still throbbing. “Do you have a makeup remover?” you ask. The makeup on your face feels uncomfortable and greasy, and you can sense a breakout looming. Can’t wait to clean this all up.

“Yes. It’s all in the bathroom. There are also some toiletries from the hotel. You can use those,” Tami replies.

“Thank you.” You quickly get up from the bed and head to the bathroom. Removing your makeup, washing your face, and brushing your teeth, you feel a relief within you. Taking a shower would be refreshing, but you remember you didn’t bring any clothes and you don’t want to wear the same dress after showering. So, you decide against it.

When you step out of the bathroom, breakfast has arrived. You and Tami start to eat together. Thank goodness the throbbing in your head begins to subside. You sip on the coffee while zoning out, lost in thought. There’s too much to think about, and your mind feels cluttered with last night’s events and the lingering emotions.

Tami clears her throat and looks at you.

“You,” she begins.

“What?” you stare at her dumbfounded.

“Do you want to tell me something?” she asks, her eyes searching your face for answers.

You press your lips together, considering whether to tell her or not. Well, she noticed that something’s wrong anyway.

"I’m sorry for last night. I didn’t mean to be irresponsible like that,” you say, sighing and covering your face. “We were supposed to just have fun.”

Tami looks at you, concern written on her face. “Look. You can tell me anything. I’d be happy to help…” She holds your hand. “Kiyoomi contacted me last night. He’s worried about you.”

Shit. Kiyoomi. Taking a deep breath, you decide to tell her everything. Starting from the moment you got closer to him as a friend, to when you began sleeping together, meeting his family, your encounter with his past hook-up, and the arguments that followed.

Tami listens attentively, commenting occasionally, raging when she hears about what that woman said to you, and frowning when you confess your guilt about ‘potentially’ having romantic feelings towards him.

“Girl,” she sighs, “Don’t say ‘potentially’. You do have feelings for him.”

You groan. “That makes me feel worse, honestly.”

“And why do you have to feel worse?” she asks, confused.

“I just… That complicates everything. How am I supposed to be okay with him being with another girl?” Frustration oozes out of you. “I guess I was okay before with our rules. But now…” You rumple your hair with your hand.

Tami squeezes your shoulder. “Hey… He might return your feelings, y’know?”

“Tam. It’s just… I’ve never seen him like... have 'feelings' with anyone before. I don’t know what’s in me that might change his way.” Tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Don’t say that!” Tami hugs you. “There are tons of reasons,” she mumbles against you.

Stepping back, she observes your face. “I’ll tell you this honestly. With everything you’ve done, he really might return your feelings.”

“I don’t know, Tam. I feel bad. I– I should’ve controlled my feelings better,” you say, looking away from her.

“No, really. Listen to me.” She looks you dead in the eye. “You can’t avoid him forever, right?”

You shook your head.

"It won't be easier too if you choose to completely let go of your feelings for him. So…" Tami continues. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever Tami is about to say. “Before you decide anything further like divorcing him,” you widen your eyes at that. That actually is an option. But, for whatever reason that just feels so wrong. “Just tell him how you feel.”

Instantly, you close your eyes and huff.

“Hey! He knows that you feel weird about something. Maybe he has his own assumptions, too. If you tell him, there’s one possible outcome that you might like.”

“Yeah, but there are other outcomes too,” you counter.

“Even if he doesn’t return your feelings, what’s the worst that might happen? You really think he could be that mean to you?”

At that, you can’t say anything. She’s right.

“This is Kiyoomi you’ve known since high school,” she reminds you.

You remain silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is Sakusa Kiyoomi—someone many label as blunt and insensitive. But you know him better than that. He has never harbored ill intentions. If anything, the last six months of your marriage have further shown you just how understanding he is, how you can rely on him for so much. Every quiet gesture and every quiet word of reassurance.

“I’m not trying to force you or anything. Just… think about it.”

“No… you’re actually right, Tam,” you say.

“Wait,” you froze as you remembered something. Something important. Suddenly, you’re on your feet.

“What?!” Tumi hurriedly followed you to get up.

“What time is it?” Urgently, you look for your phone, and find it on the desk beside the bed. It’s fucking dead. You pull your charger from your bag and charge it quickly.

Tami takes her phone, “It’s almost 1.”

“Fuck. His match.” You grab at your hair in frustration.

“Wait, I fucking forgot too! When is it?!”

“It’s at 1pm,” you say with resignation.

“We can still go there! Let’s–”

“Shit! I forgot.”

"What again?!" she looks at you incredulously.

“I’m fucking stupid. His match is at 11am today.” You unlock your phone, seeing his missed calls and texts, and drop to your feet. How in the hell could you forget this? For whatever reason everything seems to be getting worse.

Tami crouches down beside you and puts her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I'll take you home. At least you'll be there when he comes back,” she says, helping you up. Then, Tami starts to quickly pack up her things, checking out from the hotel, and you both get in her car.

On the way home, the weight of missing his match settles heavily on your chest. It just further validates that something is wrong. Doubt gnaws at your thoughts, whispering that perhaps you are blowing things out of proportion.

When you finally reach home, you embrace Tami in a hug. She will return to her town as soon as she drops you.

“Thank you so much, Tam,” you say.

She nods and hugs you back. “I just hope everything turns out fine for you.”

You smile at her. “I’ll definitely keep you updated.”

As soon as you enter the apartment, you realize that Kiyoomi isn’t home yet. Quickly, you get in the shower, washing everything from the night before, trying to calm your mind. Afterward, you head to your room, put on some clothes, and start drying your hair with a towel while checking the news about the match on your phone.

It turns out that MSBY lost.

However, the good thing about this V. League Division 1 match is that the team who lost will not be eliminated immediately. Every team will have the chance to compete with each other. The standings are ranked by total points, and so far, MSBY is expected to qualify for the playoffs. Their score is quite superior. But, you understand that a loss is a loss and Kiyoomi is very ambitious about this. You’ve even seen how he reacted the last time they lost. Coupled with the little quarrel between you both that you’ve caused, you really feel bad for him. You had decided to confess to him, but seeing the situation now… postponing it seems like a better choice.

You walk out of your room, intending on snacking from the fridge when you notice Kiyoomi’s gym bag in the living room. Shit. It wasn't there earlier. You look closer to confirm it. Why didn’t you hear anything? A sudden panic washes over you as you quickly turn to head back to your room, only to find Kiyoomi standing before you, his expression inscrutable. Is he angry? You wrestle with the dilemma of explaining your absence or consoling him about his match. Frozen in the moment, mouth slightly agape, you struggle to find anything to say to break the silence. Anything.

Suddenly, Kiyoomi runs to you and hugs you tight. Your eyes widen. Out of all the reactions you predicted from him, this is not one of them. Your hands are still in the air, frozen, trying to process his action. He steps back and looks at you in the eye, his hand caressing the side of your hair, eyes exuding warmth and concern. He grabs both of your hands and kisses them. “Please,” you hear him mumble between the skin of your hands. You’re about to ask what he means when he continues, “Please don’t leave me like that.”

You stare at him, feeling guilty about sneaking out and not coming home last night. “I…” you try to explain yourself, but still can’t find your words. He holds your face gently.

“I’m sorry about the other night. I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt you,” Kiyoomi says, gazing intently at you, eyes glistening.

The truth is, Kiyoomi can't seem to think straight about anything other than you. Despite just losing an important match, it feels like a mere afterthought in his mind. He wants to berate himself for his lack of focus during the game, but how can he when your absence is what truly feels like a glaring mistake? This one match may be important, but his urgency lies in returning home to see you. He aches to beg for your forgiveness and release the pent-up feelings he's kept hidden. And now, you're here. In your shared home, the place that used to be his sanctuary, now feels incomplete without you. It's not just a living space—it's a home because you're in it.

You bite your lip, the emotions you’ve been trying so hard to conceal start to spill. “No, Omi. I’m just…” you begin, breaking into tears.

Kiyoomi guides you to the couch, where you both sit face to face. Considering all your options, you decide to confess. Right. Now.

“I want to be honest with you,” you finally muster up the courage to confess, your voice trembling with emotion. “I was jealous. I was jealous of that woman the other night. And I’m sorry if I’m jealous when I’m supposed to allow you to be with anyone you want but…” Tears start to well up in your eyes, the weight of your emotions becoming too much to bear.

Before you can finish your sentence, Kiyoomi silences you with a tender kiss, leaving you bewildered.

"I don't want anyone else but you," he interrupts, his eyes filled with sincerity. He takes your hand, placing it gently against his cheek as he continues, "There's nothing between me and her. It's always been you that I want. Just you."

As his words sink in, you're left speechless, your mind reeling with disbelief.

"I thought I wasn't enough for you. That’s why I initiated the rules," Kiyoomi admits, his vulnerability breaking down the walls between you. You’ve never heard him like this before—he always seemed so sure of himself in everything. “You kept trying to date other people not too long before New Year,” he continues, pain evident in his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped with me.”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You both had been struggling with the same insecurities, trapped in a web of misunderstandings and doubts. Tears fall from your eyes as you wipe them away.

"Omi, that's how I feel about you," you finally admit, voicing the unspoken thoughts that have plagued your mind. “I just don’t want to burden you with me as your option.”

“What?” he mumbles in disbelief.

You nod, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you lean in to kiss him.

As you both kiss, what started as a slow, tender embrace gradually intensifies into a passionate exchange. His lips move from yours to your neck, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. Gasping for breath, you grip his side, silently communicating your desire. Catching the unspoken message in your eyes, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you bridal style to his room.

You both continue to kiss with you sitting on his lap, your hands trembling slightly as you undress him. He reciprocates, removing your clothes with a fervor that sends shivers down your spine. His hands find your breasts, kneading them hungrily before his mouth latches onto your sensitive skin. You whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Omi..."

He hums in response, his voice a low, comforting vibration against you. He gently lays you on your back, eyes never leaving yours as he slides your pants and panties down. His fingers slip inside you, each movement deliberate and electrifying. He peppers kisses along your neck. “How do I deserve you?” he mumbles as he earns another moan from you, your back arching off the bed.

“Omi. I want you. Please. Now.”

His gaze is intense as he replies, "Anything you want," before kissing you deeply, his hands swiftly removing his own pants. Kiyoomi is about to grab a condom from his drawer when you stop him.

“No condom,” you whisper, smiling softly at him, not knowing the effect you have on him.

Ensuring you're ready, he slides his fingers into you again, making you gasp. He then begins to stroke himself, positioning at your entrance. "Please, Omi," you babble, barely coherent. As he finally enters you, a harmonious moan escapes both your lips. It always feels so good—you're no stranger to it. His stamina, coupled with his blessed size… he can always make you feel heavenly. But there's something about feeling him with nothing between you, being able to feel him fully, that sends waves of raw emotion crashing over you. You grab his face, pulling him closer until your noses touch.

“Omi, you feel so good.”

“You too, baby. Always so tight and warm,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. His eyes lock onto yours, as he increases his rhythm. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge.

"I'm close, Omi," you say, breathless, your body trembling beneath him.

He sucks his thumb briefly before rubbing your clit with it, your moans escalating. "Ah! Omi!"

"Good, baby," he mumbles, his words punctuated by tender kisses. Your body tightens, and with a final cry, you come hard around him.

You hold his face while he continues to thrust. This is the first time he feels you raw, and the moment he enters you, he’s afraid he’ll combust right away. Thankfully, he doesn’t. But you just feel so good and look so beautiful beneath him. He can’t believe his luck at being able to love you this way. Love. He feels it prickling on his skin. He’s never been one to cry during sex, but he feels like crying now.

You caress his hair, your lips finding his neck, and it’s enough to send him over the edge. He pulls out just in time, his release spilling onto your stomach. The two of you lay there, panting and spent, the room filled with the quiet aftermath of your shared intensity.

Kiyoomi lifts you gently, carrying you to the bathroom with him. He cleans your body thoroughly, keeping his touches innocent while kissing you occasionally. You’re still drying your body with a towel as he steps out of the bathroom.

When you return to his room, you notice he’s changing the bed sheets. He pulls you back onto his bed as he finishes, keeping your body flush against his. It’s funny how he used to maintain such a distance, but now, he can’t keep his hand off of you.

Kiyoomi looks at you adoringly. “Hey.” His voice is soft, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hey." You shift your whole body to face him, tangling your legs with his.

He looks at you with a mix of adoration and regret. "I’m sorry for not being clear with my feelings all this time."

“Me too," you admit, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

"I guess sometimes I do feel afraid at how fast my feelings escalate with you," he confesses, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I… I think I love you, ___."

Your eyes widen, the unexpected declaration taking your breath away. He quickly adds, "You don’t have to say it back. I just want to put that out there." He caresses your hair as he gazes at you like you hold the moon.

A tender smile spreads across your face. "I think I love you too, Omi." Realizing how new this is for both of you. He has never felt anything remotely close to this, and neither have you.

The joy in his eyes are unmistakable. Kiyoomi pulls you closer by the waist and kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry too for making you upset with what I did with Hiyori,” he mumbles against your skin.

You sigh, the memory doesn’t sting as much now. "I guess it’s alright. I didn’t know better either, choosing to avoid you when I should’ve been honest."

“Are you jealous of the fact that she used to be with me?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Um. Not exactly. I mean, everyone has their past, right? It’s more about the way she leaned close to you and touched you? It’s just… I know for a fact that you’re really particular about your personal space except with those you’re very close with.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that,” he says, frowning in disappointment with himself.

"It’s okay, Omi. You used to be close with her before, so you might not have noticed. I was just insecure because I didn’t know how you felt about me." You look away, feeling embarrassed.

He gently holds your chin, turns your face back to his, and kisses you tenderly. "I’m sorry. I’ll be better," he promises, wrapping you in his arms.

Then, out of nowhere, he says, "We should have a honeymoon."

Surprised, you giggle. “Really?”

He hums in agreement. “And restart our wedding night too.”

You look at him incredulously. “How?”

"Maybe you can try on that white lingerie gift first," he suggests, his eyes twinkling.

You gape at him and swat his arm playfully. “What the hell?! You remember that?”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek. “Matter of fact, I really want to see you in it.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, baby. Tonight,” you agree, kissing his lips.

The next morning, you receive texts from Tami.

Tami: hey Tami: are u feeling better?? Tami: is everything good?

As you read the messages, Kiyoomi pulls you close, kissing your shoulder from behind.

You: so much better You: everything’s good You: thank u sm, Tam. I owe you tons You: also You: it’s late but You: thank u for the wedding gift. he loves it.

Not even a minute later, you receive her replies.

Tami: OMGGGG Tami: TOLD U!

You giggle at her response. Kiyoomi peeks over your shoulder, smiling at the texts. You put your phone down and turn to him, marveling at how right everything feels. Seeing him in the morning like this is something you’ll never get used to. If you told your high school self about today, she would laugh. There’s no way you could have predicted this outcome. Making a marriage pact with your high school friend and actually doing it, only to find a love you thought you’d never experience. It’s one of the best decisions of your life, no matter how crazy it sounds.

Kiyoomi kisses your neck and looks you in the eye. “So?”

"Hm?" you murmur, still lost in your thoughts.

“Does Maldives sound good for our honeymoon?” he asks.

You lean in, kissing him softly on the lips. "It’s perfect, Omi."

Taglist: @wolffmaiden , @fiannee , @nightlydream , @choizzn , @peachyaeger @crxm-dollx , @marisabel14 , @yunskook, @reimiiko, @megumuro

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cuubism · 11 months

Text

I've written something very silly. Dating apps, texting fic, crack, smut. desire messing with dream. onlyfans creator hob. trans dream. Enjoy.

U up?

The notification from an unfamiliar app stared up at Dream from his locked phone screen. He frowned, perplexed. Nobody texted him. Certainly not with such vernacular.

Dream opened the notification. It pulled up the messaging page of a dating app, one he himself had certainly not installed—

Desire. He grit his teeth. Unfortunately, they weren’t nearby to receive his ire.

Dream looked again at U up? on the message interface. He clicked on the profile of the man who’d sent it, a “Kyle” who would not have looked out of place shotgunning a beer at a rager. Of course, Desire had not only gone to great lengths to establish him on this insipid app, but had also spent time matching him with the exact opposite of his type, presumably to cause him never-ending grief and annoyance. As usual.

Dream should probably have just deleted the app. Instead he responded, For?

What he received in response, a few minutes later, was a poorly-lit photograph of Kyle’s penis. Dream pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger with a sigh. He should have known.

I have seen better, he replied, and closed out of the app.

He had been back at his writing for ten minutes or so when his phone buzzed again. He checked the notification.

Brad: you could be MY good boy, kitty cat 😽

Dream gagged, but opened the man’s profile out of perilous, morbid curiosity.

Brad, 28, Hedge Fund Manager, “Looking for something casual on the DL”, likes golf and cryptocurrency— oh, dear. Somehow, Dream doubted this Brad truly wanted Dream to become a part of his life. Nor did Dream want to be his ‘kitty cat’.

He was going to have words with Desire.

You strike me as a man who brings choking into the bedroom without knowing what a safe word is, he wrote. Am I accurate?

I can choke you if you want, baby 😜, wrote Brad. Which may as well have been a yes.

Dream did not think that Brad was the person he wanted that from. Not to mention that his utter lack of kink safety knowledge would probably land Dream in hospital, and there were more interesting ways for that to happen than mediocre sex in a finance associate’s penthouse.

I would prefer to keep my brain cells, he wrote, and closed the app.

Over the next few days, Dream fielded many strange, annoying, and obscene messages from people on this app. He certainly had not “swiped right” on anybody himself, so he could only assumed Desire had done so on his behalf and had now left him to suffer the consequences of “matching.” By all rights, he should have just deleted the app off his phone. But Dream rarely communicated with anyone, certainly not strangers, and there was something a little bit entertaining about seeing what kind of drivel was being thrown his way. Was this how people attempted to court over the internet? Or perhaps Desire had merely “matched” him with the dregs of humanity.

By the end of the week, Dream had received seven “dick pics”, four offers to share one or more of his body parts in exchange for cash, and a request to become a seventy-five year-old man’s “sugar baby.” He was uncertain precisely what that entailed, but he was fairly certain he would not like it.

He had also received a text from Desire that read, enjoying yourself? ;) to which he did not respond.

His meager entertainment expended, Dream was on the verge of finally deleting the app when he received a different message:

Hob: Do you think it’s possible to cheat death by force of will, or are you too busy craving its sweet release to consider it?

Dream frowned, perplexed by the specificity of the message. Finally it occurred to him to actually look at the profile Desire had made. He swiped over to said screen, and sighed in aggravation.

Desire had, at least, chosen flattering photos of him. He supposed if the goal was to have Dream sexually harassed over the internet, this would have been a requirement. The photos definitely suggested something other than “serious, committed relationship”, but they weren’t terrible, at least.

As for the text—well, Dream finally understood where some of the more unhinged messages he had received had come from. He read through the given prompts, and Desire’s answers to them:

Dating me is like: You found a stray cat and brought it home and fed it and you were going to take it to the animal shelter but now it won't leave. It’s pretty cute if a bit mangy but it won’t stop biting your hand and mewing pathetically. The sex is pretty good tho.

“Pretty good.” Desire had written all this and couldn’t even manage to make Dream sound like a satisfying hookup. Typical.

He read on:

I’ll fall for you if: You tell me I’m a good boy 😳

Things were falling into place in Dream’s mind now.

Hob’s strange message seemed to arise from the main part of Dream’s profile, where Desire had listed his “religion” as “worshipping l’appel du vide.” An interesting element for this “Hob” to focus on. Dream did not think it was typical for messages on these apps to open with a discussion of death.

He switched back over to the messaging page of the app, and replied: I consider death often. As to your query, it depends: are you thinking of death as an entity one could escape, or a force like gravity? Or perhaps a place one must go?

Hmm, Hob responded, good question. I think it’s like a state. But a state of nothingness. See, if I thought it was a *place*, might be willing to go, see something new and all. But what’s the point of nothingness?

Nothingness is its own satisfaction, wrote Dream. It seemed peaceful, to him. Quiet. The lack of need for satisfaction in the first place.

But you won’t be there, so you won’t get to experience it, said Hob.

Precisely.

Huh. The void really is calling to you. You don’t like experience, then?

Is that innuendo? Dream asked.

Could be. If it is, do I get to be part of the toxic codependent relationship that ends horribly for everyone?

Another reference to Desire’s profile choices. What Dream was apparently “looking for in a relationship.”

That depends on the quality of your experience, he wrote.

I’ve received good reviews, said Hob.

You’ve yet to call me “kitten,” so I suppose I must concur on that front, replied Dream.

You started that one, little stray cat, said Hob.

Technically Desire had started it, but Dream had to grudgingly admit that his profile did invite such comments.

Having a smashing time in your dm’s, then? Hob continued.

I have received several unsolicited pictures of genitalia, wrote Dream.

Oh yeah? said Hob. Anything good?

Random strangers’ genitals did not interest Dream. There was a reason he did not watch porn. Mediocre at best, Dream said.

There was a long pause, and Dream hastily added, Do not send me a picture of your dick as comparison.

My dick is already all over the internet, you don’t need to get it here 😛, said Hob.

Dream blinked several times at his phone screen, as if to clear away a fog before a message that might make more sense.

What, he wrote.

Before Hob could reply, it occurred to Dream that perhaps he should actually look at Hob’s own profile. He had gotten too caught up in the strange conversation to remember to do so.

He opened it and— froze.

Dream had already deduced that Desire had intentionally matched him with whoever they thought Dream would be least interested in. He could see why they had thought the same of Hob, primarily because he was very different from Dream. In the past, Dream had tended to have flings with people who were rather like him, in some respects. “Tortured artists,” Death would say.

This was not Hob. For one, unlike Dream’s pouty and morose profile photo, Hob was actually smiling in the first picture on his page. And what a smile.

He was handsome, too. At least, Dream thought so. Handsome in a homey, comfortable way, the type of handsome that suggested really good hugs, and coffee in the mornings, and someone to come home to. Dream scrolled through more photos, and caught the spark of mischief in his eyes that belied his easy nature. This best matched the way Hob spoke in his messages, he thought.

It was not so much that Hob was his usual type, and more that Desire had unintentionally uncovered a type Dream had not known he had. He swallowed hard. Scrolled back up to read the details of Hob’s bio, in search of answers to the strangeness of Hob’s response.

Ah. His profession was listed as “OnlyFans creator.” That would explain it. He supposed he could track down Hob’s profile on said app. Dream was historically not very interested in porn, however. But he was finding himself interested in Hob.

He moved back to the messaging page, and wrote, before Hob could question why Dream was confused about information that was clearly stated in his profile, Ah. I see. I’m afraid I don’t watch porn.

That a moral stance? Bcuz I get enough of that already, trust me.

Personal taste, said Dream.

Prefer to get it in person, eh? said Hob.

Yes.

You’d do numbers on OnlyFans just fyi, Hob wrote. If u ever wanted more cash. Or does Poetry & Malaise pay better than I thought?

Dream’s “career,” according to Desire.

He supposed Hob's comment was flattering, in a way. Is that your own bias, Hob? Or your considered opinion as a professional?

Both ;), said Hob.

If that is your situation, then why are you on this app, dare I ask? Most people I have encountered seem to just be interested in sex but I doubt you are suffering from a dearth of it.

What, porn stars can’t want to get married? :(

Dream could imagine his pout. It was surprisingly endearing.

THAT is why you are here?

Sure, be judgmental about it, mister “I want to get consumed.” Or was that about vore and I misread it as metaphorical?

Dream spluttered, though Hob was not physically present to see it. Indeed, Desire had written that Dream wanted “someone he could consume and be consumed by in turn,” which was surprisingly accurate considering its intention had been to mess with him.

It is not VORE, he wrote. Then followed it up with, I have frequently been accused of being intense, possessive, and overbearing.

Well then we have that in common, Hob replied. By the way, sex for work is not the same as sex with someone you really care about. Or would you feel emotionally fulfilled after fucking your colleagues?

I don’t have colleagues, said Dream.

Right, right. Poetry and malaise.

And have you achieved much emotionally fulfilling sex from this app?

No :(, said Hob.

You are too handsome for that to be the case, wrote Dream, and realized what he had said a moment after he’d hit send.

He panicked internally until Hob replied, And here I thought I was just annoying you 🥰.

I might be having a crisis over your photos myself, Hob added, but let’s not discuss it or I’ll embarrass myself.

We could discuss it in a different venue, Dream wrote, heart in his throat. I am interested also in hearing your plans to thwart death. Perhaps over drinks?

Thought you’d never ask :)

So they set a time.

Drinks turned quickly into tumbling into Hob’s flat turned quickly into Hob pushing Dream up against the door and kissing him senseless turned quickly into falling into Hob’s bed. Dream was feeling quite happy about his decision to go on a date with this weird, death-obsessed OnlyFans creator. He had been right about Hob giving good hugs, he had learned that when Hob had greeted him at the bar. He had also learned that Hob really knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob said, looking up at him, lips wet. He had his hands wrapped around Dream’s thighs and his face between Dream’s legs, and yes, Dream was feeling very satisfied with his decision, indeed. He might even have to send Desire a gift basket. “You taste so good.”

“Your mouth is ungodly,” said Dream, tipping his head back against the pillow with a groan as Hob continued teasing him with that mouth, swiping his tongue through Dream’s folds and sucking on his clit.

“Converted you to a new religion? You’re done with the void, then?”

Dream twisted his hands in Hob’s hair, holding on tight, thighs trembling, heartbeat racing in his throat. “Perhaps.”

“Is Dream your real name, by the way?” Hob asked, pushing one finger into Dream, and then quickly two, as Dream moaned and clenched down on him. “I kind of thought it was fake.”

“No,” said Dream, though it came out as another moan. “It is real.”

“Fascinating.” And he went back to torturing Dream with his mouth, fucking him deep on his fingers, until Dream was squirming and writhing under him, trying to get away from Hob’s relentlessness even as he wanted to throw himself into its fire. He felt hot, feverish, taut all over, Hob’s hands were so good, and his mouth—

“Hob,” he whined, “please.”

Hob paused, looked up at him, lips and nose wet with Dream’s fluids. Then grinned cheekily. “Yes, kitten?”

And why did something that had sounded so revolting coming from anonymous strangers only make Dream laugh when Hob said it? He laughed, a horrible, choking laugh, and Hob laughed too, incredulously. Dream could not remember ever laughing during sex, it had always been a torrid and serious affair. But Hob was so charming and handsome and Dream wanted to kiss him.

“Come,” he commanded, drawing Hob up towards him by his hair, and Hob went, and Dream brought their lips together. Hob’s mouth was slick and tasted of Dream. It was heady.

Dream wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together, and Hob ground his cock between Dream’s legs, between his folds and against his clit. He didn’t try to actually fuck Dream, though, which Dream figured was Hob’s professional good sense considering they hadn’t discussed birth control or anything in that vein in their haste. He imagined what might have happened if he had instead gone home with Brad of the un-negotiated choking kink, and laughed despite himself.

“What are you laughing at?” asked Hob, lifting his head to look at him. He really was so appealing, with his dark eyes, hair falling long over his forehead, his voice that was much more honey-warm than Dream could have imagined over text.

“I was thinking of the catastrophe that would have resulted had I slept with one of the questionable individuals I’ve encountered on that app, and my good fortune in finding you instead.”

Hob smiled, and kissed him, a proper first date type kiss, sweet and kind. Then he said, dragging his hand through Dream’s hair, tugging on it, “Don’t think about anyone else.” He kissed Dream’s jaw, then down his neck, nipping at his skin.

Dream dug his nails into Hob’s back, into his strong shoulders as Hob ground against him. He wished Hob was fucking him. His cock felt so good even just moving between Dream’s legs, and the weight of his body over Dream’s was so grounding. Next time, maybe.

He shivered as Hob moved faster over him, claimed his mouth with a hard kiss. “Come on me,” Dream urged, pulling Hob in tighter again with his leg wrapped around his waist. He reached between them and got his hand around Hob, and Hob groaned.

“Dream—”

Dream pulled him off in time with Hob’s own thrusts, and soon felt Hob’s hips stuttering, his grip tightening in Dream’s hair. He came over Dream’s hand and stomach, breathing hard against Dream’s throat. But he didn’t pause very long to recover himself, instead slipping three fingers back into Dream, making Dream arch against him with a shout.

“Hob!”

Hob worked him mercilessly until Dream was clenching around him with a gasp, body shaking as his orgasm ramped back up and hit him, fast and hard. Hob grinned against his throat as Dream panted, then gently pulled his fingers free and raised his head to look Dream in the eye as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean of Dream’s spend. Fucking. Hell. And this man couldn’t find someone to marry him?

Hob kissed him again, and again it was sweet, and firm, like his hugs. Dream kissed him back, petting Hob’s hair. Pleased with the position he’d found himself in. Pleased with Hob.

“Good?” Hob asked, stroking a hand up and down his side.

“Very,” Dream sighed.

“Good,” said Hob. “For me, too.”

He kissed Dream’s cheek, and then went and got a soft wet cloth to clean them both up, and even brought Dream a glass of water. Truly Dream’s good fortune was unparalleled on this day.

Hob slipped back into bed beside him, and Dream laid on his side, head pillowed on his arm, gazing at him. Tucked an errant strand of Hob’s hair behind his ear. Ran his fingers over the stubble on Hob’s cheek. He really was quite handsome, especially mussed from sex, in the low bedroom light. Perhaps Dream was going to have to find his OnlyFans. Just so he could… take this home with him.

“You really are even prettier in person,” Hob murmured, studying him. “Although I don’t think the rest of your profile was really doing you justice.”

“That is because my sibling initially created it to annoy me,” Dream admitted. “However, I think I am the one who’s come out on top in the end.”

“That does explain some things,” Hob said with a chuckle. He took Dream’s hand and kissed his fingertips, met his eyes again. “I promise I won’t break your heart. If you stay.”

My BFF’s take on why you should date me, Desire’s profile fills had read: With luck you can be the next person to break his heart <3

Once again, it had not been entirely inaccurate. But perhaps it would be this time.

“I think I am inclined to,” he said quietly, and Hob smiled, that warm, endearing smile.

So Dream did stay that night, cuddled up in Hob’s arms. Feeling all warm inside, even when Hob had fallen asleep, and Dream was still awake, lying beside him. He often had a hard time sleeping, but he didn’t mind so much, right now. Hob was pleasant to cuddle up to, even if Dream couldn’t sleep. Hob was pleasant all around, in fact. Dream tended to fall fast and hard and he could already feel it hovering over him like a cresting wave. Fortunately, Hob didn’t seem inclined to be any more casual about him than Dream was feeling about him.

Dream thought he could get used to this.

With Hob’s arm still wrapped around his waist, Dream swiped his phone off the nightstand and opened his text thread with Desire, which still had enjoying yourself? ;) as the last message, as yet not responded to.

Having made Desire wait for several days already, Dream wrote, with a little smile, I think I am going to get married, and turned off his phone.

#yes i did create a fake hinge account mockup for dream. i will share it in a bit XD it's very silly. it took me 3 hours in photoshop #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #nsft

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thefallennightmare · 8 months

Text

Just Pretend-twenty

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: We worked so fucking HARD on this! Please appreciate it and please 🙏 pay attention to everything.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic

NOAH

I stood in front of the mirror, straightening out my shirt, and made sure my hair was perfectly pulled back into the low bun. Excitement filled my veins, making me jittery, knowing that Y/N would be showing up shortly. We all were ready to help her and Malcolm set up for Chase’s surprise birthday party.

Y/N had been texting me the last couple of days stressing out about every last-minute detail for this party. Chase was never big on celebrating his birthday but he was turning twenty-five so she and Malcolm wanted to make sure that everything went off without a hitch tonight.

I also was nervous to see Y/N again after our conversation at Davis’ house the other night because she knew the truth; most of it anyway. Bailey and I were done, something Y/N knew. But with the stress of the party, we couldn’t continue our conversation from the other night.

The nerves were eating away at me, like a disease, so I started pacing in front of the mirror, trying to hype myself up. I woke up anxious this morning and even after meditating earlier, I still couldn’t get rid of this feeling.

I pinched my cheeks and smiled.

“Hi Y/N,” I said to myself.

No, I sound like an idiot.

“Hi, angel. You look gorgeous today.”

Eh, a little bit better.

I continued to pace back and forth in my room, muttering words under my breath.

“Hi, angel. You look beautiful today. I’m happy to have the party here.”

My feet came to a halt as I snorted to myself. “I’m happy to have the party here. Who the fuck says that? That’s so stupid. It’s just Y/N; her. Why am I overthinking talking to her?”

I get those ridiculous butterflies, even in my current state. It’s like being in a botanical garden, waiting for them to emerge. Waiting for Y/N at any stage feels like that.

“Shit, that’s corny isn’t it?” I muttered under my breath as I ran a hand over my face.

Another thing I suppose I’ve noticed about myself all this time lately. Growth in words- is this maturity? A grown man with grown feelings.

I often saw my future as not so bright and wasn’t sure if this thing called life would work out. So, I stood here in front of the mirror in my bedroom and thought that maybe this life that I yearned for would work out and Y/N possibly, maybe, needed to be included in it.

With a final deep breath, I threw on my leather jacket and then checked myself over in the mirror one last time. The black shirt underneath the jacket was pristine, not a hint of hair or lint, and my white wash skinny jeans had a hole in the knee showcasing the rose tattoo.

Y/N would be here any minute. My mind went straight to what she looked like, what she’d be wearing, and how badly I wanted her perfume to penetrate my senses.

As I bounded down the first set of steps, I turned on the landing to retreat down the rest of the stairs but came to a halt when her presence was immediately felt. In the threshold stood Malcolm and Y/N, talking with Jesse who answered the door. The bright smile on her face made my stomach twinge in a good way as my breath caught in my throat.

Her long hair fell to the middle of her back in waves. The black dress hugged every one of her curves in all the right places, stopping right beneath her ass. Her tattoos were on full display tonight. The swell of her breasts poked through the mesh part of her dress that covered her neck and chest.

I wasn’t sure if Y/N having a glowing halo effect was normal, hence why the nickname I had for her only made sense.

Angel.

It began to feel like she was specifically meant to shine for me alone, a long time ago, even with that time we were distant. I couldn’t possibly imagine another man seeing it or enjoying the warmth Y/N brought. My palms were sweating, I knew this had to be it. I had to make the move.

“You’re such a sweet talker, Jesse,” Y/N giggled while playfully rolling her eyes, tapping his cheek twice.

As I took the last step, stepping into the living room, something fell from her bag causing her to bend over to pick it up. Orie snuck up beside me and tilted his gaze toward Y/N’s ass; something I noticed immediately.

“Orie,” I seethed low.

His eyes snapped over to me, a sly smirk on his lips. “Y/N looks good, huh?”

My jaw ticked but I let out a deep breath while counting to my ten in my head.

I’m not mad. It’s innocent. It’s Orie, he knows how I feel about Y/N.

As Y/N stood tall, a bright shine from around her neck caught my attention, and gone was the anger replaced with sheer adoration. She was wearing the necklace and bracelet I bought her for her birthday.

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes finally locked.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled warmly.

“Hi, angel.”

I shifted on my feet, suddenly hot under her bright gaze. She looked absolutely breathtaking in that dress and how it hugged her tits perfectly made my cock throb in my jeans. She softly tucked a strand behind her ear and our eyes never left each other. Malcolm looked between us, a sly smirk on his lips.

“Y/N, why don’t you hand me the bags? I’ll start getting things set up while Noah gives you the tour,” Malcolm said while taking the bags of party supplies from her.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Sure.”

As she walked past me, the scent of her perfume filled my senses and my cock now ached when I remembered how pretty she looked while sitting on top of me, her hands grasping my braids.

“Oh, you smell good,” Y/N smiled up at me as I began leading her to the kitchen so she could set down the rest of the bags Malcolm couldn't carry.

My cheeks warmed and I rubbed the back of my neck. “Thanks-uh, so do you.”

“Let me take those from you,” Jolly smiled while giving Y/N a friendly kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Jolly.” She smiled. “Did we get enough alcohol? I ordered the pizzas but I won’t have time to pick them up. Oh shit, I forgot to buy cups!”

Y/N went to turn on her heels but I gently grabbed her shoulders to keep her in place in front of me, her back to my chest.

“You need to relax, angel. You're trying to control so much of this party. Let us help you,” I rubbed out the tense muscles in her shoulder.

“I just want to make things perfect for Chase,” she relaxed in my embrace. “The last few years of his birthday have been filled with unnecessary drama.”

My nose brushed along her hairline. “It will be fine. Davis will pick up the pizzas and we’ll have Nick buy the cups.”

“Someone has to pick up Chase. If I go, he’ll be able to read me and know something is up,” Malcolm said while unloading all the party supplies.

“Fuck, I can’t. My car is filled with the balloons,” Y/N tensed under my touch so I was quick to offer a solution.

“Okay, so this is what we will do. Davis will pick up the pizzas. Nick will stop at the store to buy the cups. Michael and Orie are in charge of setting up the alcohol. Jolly and Jesse, you guys figure out the music. Folio will pick up Chase. Those two can talk about drums or cymbals.”

Y/N instantly relaxed once again and leaned her head against my shoulder. “Matt is picking up the cake.”

My hands rubbed her arms. “See? We have everything figured out. There’s no need to stress, angel.”

“I know,” she let out a deep breath. “Thank you guys for letting us have the party here. It’s a nice place, lots of space. ”

Michael chuckled while setting up the makeshift bar on the kitchen island. “You’d think so with the five of us but I’m starting to think we’re out-growing this place.”

“Soon, it’ll be four of you. I move out at the end of the month,” Orie said as he walked into the kitchen, giving Y/N and Malcolm a fast fist bump.

“Oh, that’s right. With the Mrs,” Jesse smirked.

Orie rolled his eyes with a small smirk. “She’s not the Mrs. Yet.”

Y/N watched my roommates bicker back and forth with a bright smile which in turn, made me hold onto her a bit tighter, not wanting to let her go. From day one, she always fit in with us, never once feeling left out. Everyone welcomed her with open arms and for that, I’ll always be grateful for that.

“Angel,” I said into her hairline.

Y/N eyes sparkled as she gazed up at me, a loose strand of silky hair fell into her face, so I brushed it away and let my finger graze over her cheek.

“Hm?” Her voice was quiet.

“Let me show you upstairs,” my voice matched hers.

The corner of her lips lifted in a smile. “I’d love that.”

As the others chatted amongst themselves, I led Y/N back to the living room, hand now on her back, and as we reached the stairs Bryan walked through the front door with Matt.

“Hi!” Y/N smiled and stepped away from my embrace to give them their own separate hugs. “Malcolm is in the kitchen, he can show you guys where to set everything up.”

Matt smiled while letting his hand rest in the middle of her back. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

I kept a watchful gaze on her, even though there wasn’t a need to.

“Oh, such a sweetheart,” she playfully pinched his cheeks. “You forgot to grab the cake didn’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he waved her off. “Davis will pick it up on his way over here; after he gets the pizza. I already texted him.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N turned her attention to Bryan. “Did you bring it?”

He held up his camera bag. “Everything is ready to go.”

“Awesome,” she clapped her hands with excitement.

“What are you planning?” I questioned while crossing my arms over my chest.

Y/N merely shrugged with a coy smirk. “Oh, nothing. Now are you going to finish giving me the tour or what?”

I held out my arm towards the staircase on my left. “After you, angel.”

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor only to be muted by the carpet on the stairs and I followed close behind her, Matt’s voice calling after us.

“Leave the door open, you two!”

Without Y/N seeing, I flipped off Matt and then led her down the long hallway, telling her whose room was whose. She walked in front of me, her scent filling my senses the entire time, and my hands ghosted over her hips as I led her to the last door on the left.

“Welcome to my abode! Mi casa su casa and all that shit,” I said as we came to a stop.

Y/N giggled. “And you said you couldn’t speak Spanish.”

“I tried, gave up,” I chuckled, now grasping her hips from behind.

With her standing in front of me, I stuck my arms over her shoulders to reach for the doorknob. But before I opened the door, I rested my chin on her shoulder, and Y/N immediately relaxed in my embrace.

“This is my room,” I breathed against the crook of her neck.

I saw her skin prick like a cactus as my breath tickled her sensitive skin. I only imagined her nipples probably did too but had to switch thoughts to avoid my cock twitching in case Y/N could feel it brush against her ass. I gazed down at her, my eyes immediately watching the rise and fall of her chest, and I licked my lips at the sight of them.

A light click sounded as I opened my door, gently patting Y/N’s thigh so she could walk inside. She took a few tentative steps but I didn’t let her go far without me right behind her. It’s been so long since I felt her this close and now nothing was stopping us.

My heart was so heavy with my devotion, that I nearly kneeled at her feet. If she only knew, I would do anything for her- to the fucking grave. Either way what bliss. This would be the best chance for me to explain it; to cave and tell her those three words.

I craved Y/N’s touch, her in this room was beginning to consume me and I’d fucking let her. I watched her eyes close and open slowly, her body movements so gentle she leaned into my tiny touches. The way my hand grazed up her back. The way my fingers danced with hers as we stepped through the threshold of my bedroom; her pinking hooking with mine. I was so close to forgetting what the event tonight was. All I wanted was her all to my fucking self and I wanted to throw her on my bed only to rip off that dress. My tongue craved to taste every single part of her.

Y/N’s eyes took in all aspects of my room; my desk with my computer.

“Levi, huh?” She smirked while pointing to my monitor.

Earlier, I was watching Attack on Titan and paused the episode, never exiting out of the app.

I shrugged while stuffing my hands deep into my pockets. “You know he’s my favorite, he’s pushing for Naurto to move for the top spot.”

“It’s the hair I bet,” she began looking around my room once again.

To the mirror, my bed, and the rosary beads. Her eyes darted from the bed back to me, a silent question.

I nodded, letting her know it was fine to sit, which she did by resting on the edge. I followed, not leaving any space between us.

“Shit,” Y/N cursed with a groan. “I don’t know why I even wore heels. They kill my ankles.”

Bending over, I lifted both her feet into my lap to remove her heels then set them on the bed behind me.

“But they complete my outfit,” she pouted.

I chuckled while tracing a finger over the small tattoo on her ankle, the one that mirrored mine in design and spot.

“Just rest your feet for a little while,” I suggested, eyes still on her tattoo.

Mine subconsciously began to itch with the memories of when we got the tattoos. Her birthday.

“Oh,” I said suddenly, remembering what I saw online earlier. “I saw that Hollow Souls are going on tour again?”

Y/N smiled brightly, pure excitement on her face. “Yeah. Who told you that?”

I waved her off with the hand that wasn’t grazing over her ankle. “Oh, must have been the little birds.”

“Sneaky birds. But did you see who we’re touring with?”

I hummed. “Nothing, nowhere. I bet you’re fangirling on the inside right now, huh?” I teased.

“Can you blame me?” She scoffed. “Joe’s been one of my favorite artists for years now and to experience touring with him, I haven’t stopped smiling since I got the call.”

When I first found out about this tour, I expected myself to get jealous at the thought of her being on the road with another man while being so far from me but surprisingly, I felt at peace. I trusted Y/N and knew that although she might have had an artist appreciation, I would have liked to think that her heart stayed with me.

“It will be a sick tour,” I nodded. “Maybe I’ll come out to a show and support you guys. How does it feel knowing this is your first tour as a three piece?”

Y/N played with the hem of her dress. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited; nervous but very excited. But it's still daunting to know that we have to go up there without a screamer, you know? Everyone seems to be loving our new singles but having to go out there and perform them is scary.”

“Well, if you’re ever interested in taking up screaming. There’s this great vocal coach that I’ve been looking into. She helps out a lot of artists and I have my first lesson with her at the end of the month,” I stated, fingers still grazing over her skin.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Mochi,” Y/N reached over and ruffled my hair.

I dragged my finger up her calf now, her skin pricking under my touch, and I dared a glance to her inner thighs and my cock was now aching in my jeans. Her head turned towards my mirror closet as she watched our reflections.

“Hm, a mirror right in front of your bed. Kinky,” she winked.

By now my cock was straining against my zipper and knew I needed to do something about it soon otherwise it would be an issue for the rest of the night. There it went again, my mind completely doing the opposite of what I wanted right now. All I saw were those erotic images over and over.

Y/N kneeled down on the floor between my legs and I shivered under her touch again as her nails raked up and down my thighs. I watched her actions from the mirror behind her, eyes drinking at the sight of her large back tattoo and the perkiness of her round ass. My cock twitched in front of her face as she gazed up at me, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’ve dreamed of the way you tasted, Noah.”

I shook the thought away but it didn't last long because another image of Y/N flashed in my mind.

A guttural groan sounded from the back of my throat and I titled my head up towards the ceiling, my long hair cascading down my back. I gripped Y/N’s head with a vise grip and guided her up and down; slowly at first until I reached the resistance of the back of her throat and buried my cock deep in there.

That dream was so vivid when I had it months ago, just as the memories are now.

Her pussy clenched over my cock as she came undone, her arousal spreading down my thighs. I hooked my fingers in her mouth to hold her up so she could watch us in the mirror now.

“Watch as I fuck your pretty pussy,” I ordered, long hair covering my face.

Y/N did the best she could to nod with my hooks in her mouth and my pace became relentless, slamming into her so hard and fast that the noises echoed throughout my room. The burning felt warm at the base of my spine as my heart pounded wildly in my chest, my own orgasm so fucking close to destroying me.

“Noah?”

My eyes snapped away from our reflections in the mirror to Y/N’s ethereal face, my fingers still grazing up and down her leg. “Hm?”

“Well, before you zoned out,” she giggled while removing her legs from my lap only to sit on her knees. “I was going to tell you, I love your house and your room! It’s- it’s cute. The LED lights are a nice touch.”

I smiled. “I love the way you look with them. Soaked in neon glows.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she looked over my shoulder towards the wall where I had old Bad Omens tour posters framed.

“No way,” she muttered while climbing off the bed to gaze upon the frames. “You kept the tour poster with Hollow Souls?”

I rose to my feet, brushing away any hair or lint from my leather jacket, and stood behind her.

“Yeah, it was our first tour together. It may not have ended in the best way but it’s where we met,” I brushed away her hair from her neck, seeing the tattoo of her large snake back piece peek through the top of her dress.

Fuck, this had to be my favorite tattoo of hers. It fit her back so well, each groove of her spine.

I really should book that appointment.

My fingers now grazed over her bracelet and I hummed low in approval. “These look really good on you, angel.”

“I wear them all the time now. I never take them off. Not even in the shower,” she winked while gazing over at me.

Fuck.

My cock twitched and I let out a low groan, imagining Y/N in the shower with her necklace and bracelet only on her unholy skin. I leaned my face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, and when my lips brushed against the skin behind her ear, Y/N shivered at my touch.

“Noah,” she breathed.

“I’ve missed the way you smelled,” my teeth grazed on the shell of her ear.

Slowly, Y/N turned in my embrace, now gazing up at me through those long lashes, and I sucked in a breath at her sheer beauty. That magnetic pull that we always felt between us began to vibrate within us, causing her to lean up towards my lips. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on the side of her neck briefly before cupping her cheek.

“Mochi,” she moaned softly.

I swallowed, my voice just above a whisper. “Angel.”

Y/N’s hands grasped at my arms, her nails digging into the leather of my jacket, and I continued to hold her face in between my hands. Our lips were so fucking close now, I could feel her warm breath fan across until the taste of raspberry lingered on my bottom lip.

“Hey, Davis is wondering if the pizzas are already paid for?” Jesse came barreling through the closed door.

My head snapped to the right, eyes narrowing at him as he peeled an orange with a smug smile on his face.

“Shit, did I interrupt something? I tend to do that. Just with different fruits,” Jesse popped a piece of orange in his mouth.

I sighed and let my hands fall from Y/N’s so I could point a finger at him. “You’re peeling an orange and the juices are dripping all over my clean floor.”

“It’s fine. See?” He wiped some of the juice with his foot, his sock getting citrus on it, smearing it all over the hardwood.

“Jesse,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “I spent all day cleaning and mopping this entire space.”

He rolled his eyes and finished the rest of the orange in one bite. “So, Davis.”

Y/N, who was stifling a giggle behind her hand, nodded. “Yes, the pizzas are already paid for. It’s under Malcolm’s name.”

“Cool. Speaking of which, Malcolm needs help with the banner.”

“Of course he does,” Y/N shook her head with a chuckle and began to walk away.

My hand reached for hers, locking around her wrist. “Do you want some help?”

She patted my hand lightly. “I’d love that, Noah.”

As Y/N put her heels back on, I pushed Jess out of my room, orange peels and all. Then I led Y/N back downstairs with my hands on her hips.

“I swear, I’m going to have to buy a lock for my door if Jesse keeps popping in,” I grumbled.

Y/N turned in my embrace slightly to smack my chest. “Oh, be nice.”

“And if I’m not?” I teased with a raised brow.

Just as her lips parted, another shrill voice echoed through the space of the living room; one I hadn’t expected to hear.

“Hi, baby!”

Y/N’s feet skidded to a halt and I nearly tripped over her since she was still in front of me.

“Surprise!” Bailey yelled while shaking her hands, standing on the other side of the open door.

Michael stood holding the door open, unsure what to do.

“That’s not until later,” Y/N snapped with fists clenched.

Bailey’s eyes landed on Y/N and I could easily see the way her jaw ticked. “What are you doing here?”

“Excuse me?” She scoffed.

Bailey pushed past Y/N towards me, trying to rest her hands on my chest; an action I quickly brushed away.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked dumbfounded.

Her brows furrowed. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

Bailey’s breath had a lingering scent of alcohol and I scrunched up my nose in disgust. She was a fucking mess; this whole thing was a fucking mess that I needed to rid myself and everyone else of.

I peered over her shoulder towards Michael and Y/N, whose eyes burned straight into my own; she was furious.

Angel- my angel. She was going to be so angry with me. I had to explain; fast. My feet couldn’t get to her fast enough

“Y/N-,” I began while stepping away from Bailey.

She shook her head, ignoring my pleas as she brushed past me. “Malcolm needs my help.”

READER

I’m angry-no, I’m furious.

Should I be angry? Do I have the right to feel this way? It’s not like Noah and I were together. I learned quickly what Bailey’s place was. He was clearly trying to make me jealous, and it worked.

I ripped apart a piece of tape to hand up to Malcolm who was standing on a chair to hang up the banner.

“What’s wrong, sweets?” He asked.

Grumbling in response to his question, I handed him another piece of tape just as Noah walked into the kitchen.

“Angel,” he reached for my arm. “Let me explain! I ended it!”

I ripped my elbow from his grasp to walk away from him, ready to help Jolly finish setting up the alcohol.

“I don’t have time for this bullshit, Noah. I have to finish setting up for Chase’s party. Not talk about unwanted guests or lies.”

His face fell. “I’m not lying. Please, can we talk?”

Malcolm stared down at Noah from the chair with confused eyes as Jolly’s gaze bounced back and forth between us. “What’s going on?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Chase will be here soon,” I ignored Jolly.

“Y/N,” Noah begged with a trembling lip as he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “The house is already ready. We need to talk.”

“I’m not doing this with you right now!” I spat with venom, eyes burning into his.

“Y/N,” he tried to reach for my hands but I smacked them away.

Jolly quickly picked up that something was wrong so after setting down the bottle of booze, he motioned for me to follow him.

“Let’s get some air, huh?”

Turning my back to Noah, I let Jolly lead me out of the kitchen onto their back porch, the cooling air of the afternoon immediately causing goosebumps to graze my skin; skin that Noah moments ago was touching with his lips.

“Everything alright?”

I began pacing, running a hand through my hair. “He lied to me, Jolly! He told me he broke things off but she’s here!”

He shook his head. “No, Y/N, I promise you; Noah broke up with Bailey. We can all vouch for that.”

“Then why is she here?!” I yelled with a hand extended towards the house behind him.

“She’s here to salvage whatever she can. But that’s not on him or you,” Jolly said with his ever-calming voice.

I swear, his accent is what always made any difficult situation easier.

“It's just-,” I sighed while falling onto the step, Jolly immediately following me. “Every time I think Noah and I are getting somewhere, some bullshit comes up to continue to keep us apart.”

Jolly nodded. “I can understand that, I get it. But it doesn’t have to be complicated. It really doesn’t, Y/N.”

“Then why does this keep happening?” I blew out a shaky breath while looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

I was so fucking tired of the universe trying to keep Noah and me apart. I was so fucking tired of trying to be happy for more than a mere moment before something came to crash around me.

Was I not worthy of a happy ending? After all the bullshit I’d gone through?

Jolly brushed away a stray tear, a solemn smile on his face. “Maybe the universe is-shit-I don’t know trying to humble you both first? Heal? Hell if I know, I’d kill to have that spark you two have. I don’t know shit about this, Y/N. But I do know Noah; he isn’t perfect. But he’s trying so hard to be. He also isn’t lying to you, he isn’t.”

Reluctantly, I nodded and rested my head against his shoulder. “Is it alright if I just sit here a minute with you?”

He patted my knee. “Take all the time you need, söt.”

“Huh?” I looked up at him.

With a chuckle, Jolly wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “It means sweet, in Swedish. Sorry, sometimes it slips out without-.”

“No!” I patted his knee now. “I like it.”

With a relaxed breath, I eased into Jolly’s comforting embrace, thankful that I had so many friends to confide in when things became tough.

MATT

So ‘distressed distraction mission fail’ was here. I chuckled to myself, my inner monologue taking over. I felt like it was closing in around me. In my mind, I was growing larger and larger, expanding with aggravation. If I say something too fast, to get myself under control, I’d explode and take the situation in my hands.

This wasn’t my fuckin fight, I knew that. But- once again, this girl proves to me she doesn’t belong here and surely, doesn’t understand the words no.

Stop.

Leave.

Noah ended this shit so why was she here? Dogs and fucking rabid raccoons understand basic shit better than Bailey.

I often tried to bite my tongue. I often tried to be kind when I didn’t need to be. It was important to be kind, however, not when you fuck with my family. Bailey didn’t get my message the last time. However, I knew tonight was going to be the last time she’d be around. I felt that shit in my gut.

Good fuckin riddance.

Noah was still in the kitchen and from the way Malcolm was laying into him about something, I knew he’d be held up there for a few minutes.

I walked up to Bailey as she was sitting on Noah’s couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” I taunted while crossing my arms over my chest, staring down at her.

Bailey rolled her eyes while taking a very long sip of her wine. “Matt, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Any particular reason you’re here tonight, trying to, I don’t know, ruin another gathering?”

“I just wanted to talk to Noah,” she slurs while slowly sanding to her feet, swaying slightly. “I think we can figure things out.”

My face scrunched in disgust. “Why don’t you sit down, no need to make a bigger fool of yourself.”

“‘M not,” the red liquid swirled in her cup as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry but have you been blind this whole time?” I wondered.

Bailey scoffed, suddenly falling back onto the couch and spilling a few drops of wine onto the couch. “I’m not blind.”

Fuck, if Noah wasn’t pissed with this girl before, he definitely would be now for staining his couch.

I bent low on my knees to make direct eye contact with her. “You keep acting like it, Bailey. You should have just taken the voicemail for what it was. Noah ended it with you; it’s done. What was the point of even coming over here? Because this thing with him isn’t going to happen. You're water and Y/N is milk.”

“What does that mean?” Bailey hiccuped, resting her head against the back of the couch.

I peered over my shoulder to point toward Noah, who was watching Y/N directly as she walked back inside with Jolly. She didn’t bother to give Noah an ounce of attention as she was led by Jolly into the dining room. The look of hurt and yearning from Noah made my own stomach drop. His usual stoic face was void, it was evident that his emotions were coming to the surface. Noah loved Y/N with his entire essence but this woman sitting in front of me was going to ruin it.

The hurt I felt for my friend; no, my brother made the tone in my voice turn to ice as I glared back at Bailey.

“Y/N is the fucking moon that lights his entire dark sky. Come on, stop playing stupid,” I stood to my feet and ran a hand through my hair.

Leaving her to sulk on her own, I motioned for Malcolm to come out front with me so we could talk privately.

NOAH

Music blasted throughout my house, the party well underway. Chase arrived about thirty minutes ago, not a hint of surprise on his face but still wore a happy smile. Somehow he managed to find out about the party, which immediately brought a sad smile to Y/N’s face; one I wished I could brush away with my thumb.

“Ah, it’s alright sweets. I really appreciate the effort,” Chase kissed her forehead before laying a kiss on Malcolm’s lips. “Thank you, guys. I love you.”

I tried talking to Y/N one more time before the party started but with Malcolm’s ice-cold gaze, I knew it wasn’t the right time. It would have to wait until later.

Something else needed my attention.

Bailey stumbled into the living room, red solo cup barely hanging between her fingers, as she was in a fit of giggles. I internally was smoldered with resentment as I watched Bailey. Rage flowed through me like lava because she came here and did this. I tried, I fucking tried. I realized this was the consequence of my previous actions.

However, have I not atoned?

I apologized. I-I tried, I called Bailey and told her I couldn’t be what she wanted. I ended it.

I knew she knew, she told me that night in the car. I had eyes for someone else.

I couldn’t allow her to destroy what I was working towards. I tried to swallow my frustration. Angel wouldn’t even look at me- I felt like I could die right here. I was sitting on the couch with my arms resting along the back of it, eyes watching Y/N’s every move as she talked with Davis.

Until Bailey fell onto the couch next to me. “I-I thought I haad a driinkie for you.”

My jaw ticked as I ran a hand over it. “Bailey, I’m sorry, but you weren’t invited.”

“Wha-what does,” she hiccuped. “That mean?”

I moved towards the other end of the couch to give us more space. “Bailey, I left you a voicemail!”

“I haven’t checked it! I have like 20 messages,” she waved me off before drinking from her cup.

“Bailey-.”

A mutual friend of Orie’s came by with a tray of shot glasses, one that Bailey reached for.

“Oh! Shots!”

Quickly, I pushed away the tray from her and dismissed the friend, stating we were fine and didn’t need anything to drink.

“Noah!” Bailey whined while cupping my face. “Why’d youuu do that? I’m thirsty!”

I smacked her hand away as gently as I could. “You’re drunk, Bailey. You’ve had enough.”

She, of course, ignored me and was fast on her feet to stumble into the kitchen. “I’m gonna go get another!”

A look of great bitterness swept across my face when I approached Bailey again and attempted to get her to leave. “Bailey, let me call you an Uber. You need to go.”

“Noah!”

She tried to push me away but ended up crashing into the kitchen counter, knocking over the vast variety of alcohol. The loud noise caught the attention of everyone around; Y/N watching Bailey with a look of disdain, never once looking into my eyes. I curbed the way my heart fell to my stomach only because I couldn’t focus on the pain.

I needed to get Bailey out of here.

“I missed you,” she slurred while running a finger down my chest. “I miss the way you fucked me. Can we try again?”

I threw her arms off of me as she tried to wrap them around my neck. “No, Bailey, whatever this was is finished. You need to go.”

“We need to talk right now, mother fucker,” Chase spat as he gripped my eblow to drag me to a far corner of the living room, away from prying ears.

“Man, not now,” I ripped my arm from him. “I’m fucking busy trying to diffuse this situation.”

“Bailey is drunk, Noah! What the fuck!” Chase ran a hand over his buzzed head. “You’re going to do this? Now? We fucking talked about this! What did I tell you? Get it together or leave my sister alone.”

He roughly pushed my shoulder and I took a deep breath to keep myself calm. From the moment Bailey showed up tonight, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and there was nothing I could do to stop it; breathing be damned.

“STOP!” I suddenly snapped, earning a few stares from people around us.

Nick R. went to step forward as he leaned against the wall with Nadia but I was quick to wave him off. I refused to ruin their night. His girlfriend was in town for the first time in a long time so the last thing they needed was to deal with my drama.

“Fuck!” I spoke. “I did! I fucking broke it off, it’s over! Bailey just fucking showed up! And I’d hate for her to drive and die. I do not need that shit on my conscious.”

“Noah-,” Malcolm stepped up next to Chase.

“I swear to fucking Hades himself, if you tell me to break it off with Bailey, I will lose my shit,” I snapped, the vein in my neck twitching.

“I’m not,” Malcolm’s voice was even, steady, almost a low whisper because he knew I was seconds away from sheer catastrophe. “Y/N’s fucking hurt, Noah.”

“I’m-.” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before Chase snapped.

“I know you’re fucking sorry, alright! But please for the love of fucking Neptune, get rid of her!”

“Working on it, man,” I reminded him as I turned on my heels to head back into the kitchen but came to a sudden halt.

Bailey was dragging a guy towards Y/N, her loud shrill voice echoing over the music.

“Y/N! This was the friend I was talking to you about!”

Friend? What the fuck?

The look on Y/N’s face was one of embarrassment and awkwardness. Not many could read someone from across the room but I could. I knew exactly what Y/N was feeling without an utter from her sweet lips; her body always gave her away.

JESSE

Oh shit, oh shit.

If only I had known how tonight was going to go.

Truth be told, I really wanted everyone out of my fucking house. I wanted to lock Y/N and Noah in the garage, not letting them out until they talked this shit out. Although, depending on what happens next, I might have to.

I leaned against the kitchen sink as I watched with careful eyes as Bailey approached Y/N with some guy in tow.

“Y/N! This is the friend I was talking about! The one I wanted to introduce you to! Jared, this is Y/N.”

My gaze snapped over to Noah just in time to see him crush the red solo cup in his hand.

“Oh, hi. Hello,” Y/N shifted on her feet.

“Fuck,” Jared licked his lips. “You know you’re really beautiful. You’re a model ain’t you?”

Y/N cleared her throat. “Musician, actually.”

Something was off with this guy so without them noticing, I took a few steps closer toward Y/N, just in case she needed me to step in.

“Wow a musician, that’s right! Bailey mentioned something about that. I have heard your band before. Souls Hollow.” Jared snapped as if he found out the answer for a million dollars.

“Hollow Souls”.

The loud pop of Y/N’s water bottle made me jump slightly as she crushed it between her hands.

“Right! Well, you have the face and the body for modeling if that’s something you want to get into,” Jared ran a hand through his short hair.

“No, not my interest or my forte.”

Somehow through her drunken state, Bailey was able to feel the sudden tension and patted the guy's chest.

“Jared, why don’t you get us a couple of drinks? I need to have some girl talk with, Y/N.”

Girl talk?

“Girl talk?” Y/N chuckled low.

Once it was the two of them, or so Bailey thought, I leaned forward on the kitchen island to listen better.

“You know,” Bailey threw her hair over her shoulder. “It might be good for you to blow off some aggression. He could be a good fuck.”

“Thank you for your interest in my well-being.” Y/N scoffed, ready to end this conversation, and went to walk past her.

“I’m just saying. I’d love to be fucked by Noah again, but he hasn’t been interested,” Bailey shrugged while leaning against the counter for support.

Oh. Fuck.

Y/N turned swiftly on her heels with a look of pure fury behind those eyes, the ones that drew Noah in that first meeting; something he told me many times before. I could see the hurt behind that fury though. It was clear that Bailey’s words dragged the knife deeper into her heart. But just as quickly as the hurt surfaced, Y/N was quick to close herself off by crossing her arms over her chest with wide eyes, internally going into herself.

The shit I just heard. Bailey did that on purpose, or she was so far gone on liquor she didn’t realize what she said.

No, it was both. Bailey came here to hurt Noah, that was obvious.

Daring a glance over to Y/N, I felt my stomach drop at what I saw. While it wasn’t easy for me to read her face all the time, that look was something I’d seen on Noah’s face one too many times.

She was passed beyond the point of disassociation.

Silence.

Y/N was silent. The calm before the storm.

“Shit, Noah.” I quietly said under my breath as I nearly sped to him.

He was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as they bounced wildly. Even with me approaching him with a fury, Noah’s eyes never left the two women behind me.

“Noah!” I waved my hand in front of his face. “Noah!”

“Not now man,” he waved me off, still not looking up at me.

Following his gaze, my shoulders slumped when I noticed that Jared had returned to Y/N and was trying to hand her a drink; one that she kept refusing.

Noah’s fists were balled tightly underneath his chin, his chest unmoving as if his breath was caught in his throat.

“Yes, now! Fuck, Noah. I need to tell you something.”

Before I could sit down, Bailey barreled her way past me onto the couch to plop down next to Noah, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Oh, don’t they look perfect together? I’d say I’m a great fucking matchmaker. Heaven knows she needs to get laid. She’s been so uptight since I’ve met her.”

Mother fucker.

All this time and Bailey still couldn’t read the fucking room.

NOAH

I shifted my body away from Bailey, her head falling away from my shoulder, as I glared at her.

“What did you just say?” I was eerily calm even though my heart was in my ears.

Bailey did her best to fix her hair, trying to make herself presentable. “Y/N looks so good with Jared! I’m so glad I set them up. It seemed like she’d been so lonely since the break up with Trey.”

Jesse sat next to me. “Noah-.”

Ignoring him, I kept my hard gaze on the mess of Bailey. “Why do you insist on bringing that asshole up in every conversation?”

“Why does her love life bother you so much, No-O-ah.” She hiccuped then let out a low belch, the smell rancid.

It disgusted me.

I was beginning to see slight parallels with this. Trey, Bailey, Trey Bailey. Drowning their demons. Once again confirming I will not be like this. I won’t become them. My demons won’t swim.

“Why can’t you mind your own fucking business? You don’t know shit about her or any of us. You think you do because of things you read on a blog?”

Fuck, Bailey was getting inside my skin and I wanted to scratch it away until it bled. I chewed roughly on the inside of my cheek, doing whatever I could to keep my anger under control. I couldn’t make a scene in front of everyone because of Bailey.

She took a large gulp of her wine and lazily shrugged. “Trey was a big part of Y/N’s life; I can understand that.”

Jesse reached past me to grab the glass of wine from her since she almost dropped it because of her weak grip. The sound of glass clanking on the table in front of me was a white noise in my ears.

“Oh, Jo-O-lly,” Bailey whined with a hiccup. “You’re no fun.”

“Jesse,” he corrected.

She ignored him with a wave of a hand towards Y/N and this friend. “Look at them. Y/N’s so into him.”

My gaze snapped over to Y/N expecting to see her all over this guy but breathed a little easier to see that there was a decent amount of space between them and her arms were crossed over her chest.

She was closing herself off from the conversation but ever the sweetheart, Y/N couldn’t find the way to end it.

“Hopefully, they’ll fuck. I mentioned to Y/N that we did as girl talk, so maybe she finally will too!”

My eyes doubled in size as my head whipped back to her, heart now leaping out of my fucking throat. All the noise around me fell away, the only thing I could hear was two words.

You’re fucked.

“You fucking told her we had sex?” I spat through clenched teeth.

“It was girl talk, Noah. You’re freaking out about nothing,” Bailey rolled her eyes.

Terror washed over me because there was absolutely no fucking way she told Y/N.

“She did. I was right there,” Jesse informed, almost as if he could read my mind.

The fine hairs at the back of my neck rose as the anger now ran through me in waves.

Bailey told her. She fucking told her.

Fuck!

My hands raked through my hair, ripping it from the low bun, and I vibrated with rage.

I should have told Y/N right after it happened. I shouldn’t have let it drag on this long. It would have hurt coming from me, yes, but now that Bailey was the one to tell her, I knew it was eating away inside of Y/N.

Idiot.

Asshole.

Fucking bitch.

My heart continued to pound rapidly in my ears. I wanted to scream; the sudden shock made my muscles tense. Innate fear was instinctive and hard-wired into my brain.

This kept fucking happening. Every time I thought Y/N and I were getting somewhere, something fucking came crashing into it. How did we go from almost kissing upstairs in my bedroom to now? She ignored me as another man was practically drooling at the sight of her.

Mine. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.

This feeling that burned low in my gut involved a fight-or-flight response triggered by a perceived threat; Bailey.

I hated myself more than I had in a long time.

A sudden thought crossed my mind which made me blow out a shaky breath. Was I the threat?

No. I broke it off.

Fuck this.

“Oh,” Bailey’s voice was sad. “I hope Jared won't mind Y/N’s scar, though. I never had the chance to warn him.”

“Excuse me?” I fumed, nostrils flaring.

How she continued to misread the room appalled me.

“Well, I noticed her scar during the pool day. It’s a nasty one. I can't believe she deals with that endo bullshit,” Bailey sympathized.

“Endometriosis,” I corrected but then shook my head with the sudden realization. “How do you know about that?”

“Why does it matter, Noah?” She shifted uncomfortably.

The only people who knew about Y/N’s scar beside herself were Malcolm, Chase, and me. It was a very sore subject for her, something she didn’t want brought up. It was from a procedure she had years ago, one to remove a thin layer of tissue that lined her uterus to help with her heavy bleeding.

I never noticed the scar however during our night together. My mind was elsewhere. I never paid attention to that, it could have been a stretch mark for all I knew. I was a little too occupied tasting her to care. So enamored in her, so thankful just to have every inch of her at all that night that I didn’t see it as an imperfection on her.

And I never would.

“It fucking does matter, Bailey!” I roared.

Jesse’s hand rested on my shoulder, his soft touch easing the rage slightly. However, out of the corner of my eye, something else caught the attention of my rage.

Bile rose in my throat as I watched Jared’s slimy fingers graze down Y/N’s bare arm towards the silver chain on her wrist; the bracelet I bought her. He twirled it between his fingers before flicking it away with a look of distaste. Y/N yanked her arm away from him, holding her wrist close to her chest.

My nostrils flared as my shoulders went rigid, my body going taught. Something cold and wet dripped onto my lips and the copper taste was bitter on my tongue. I could feel my increasing heart rate, the blood rushing in and out through my ears. I swallowed thickly with my dry mouth, producing no saliva.

My clenched fists were aching, I was sure to leave half-crescent marks on my palms. My jaw was tight as if it was wired shut and my gums must have been bleeding. I could taste it in my mouth as one simple thought continued to repeat in my mind.

Destroy. He’s touching what’s yours.

I could do it, it’d be so easy.

This piece of shit dared to look at something I gave Y/N with distaste and it made me bare my teeth.

“Fuck, Noah. Are you alright?” Jesse’s concern brought me back from seeing red. “Your nose is bleeding.”

I wiped my palm over my nose. “Is it?”

Crimson smeared all over my hand.

Fuck.

With every step back Y/N took, this guy followed in an attempt to close the distance between them. A muscle in her jaw ticked as her brows furrowed, eyes darting around the room to look for someone.

Chase and Malcolm were in the front yard with others playing one of the yard games Steven brought. Everyone else was scattered throughout the house which meant I was closest to her.

Perhaps this fear of loss is only proof of my love for Y/N, one that she will always depend on. The curse is the blessing. Blessed with a curse. Love is tough, but I’m tough enough. I needed to get to Y/N and get to her now.

Bolting to my feet, I moved like lighting and did not listen to Jesse’s protests as I reached Y/N in a few wide strides.

Even though she was angry at me, Y/N’s eyes lit up with relief as she saw me only for a moment.

“Everything alright?” I asked while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

Jared motioned towards Y/N. “I’m trying to get your beautiful friend from Sollows to go out with me.”

I ground my teeth while taking a step towards him. “It’s Hollow Souls. Hollow. Souls. You don’t even fucking know her band's name. Get the hell out of here.”

“Noah!” Y/N jeered from behind me.

“All I’m asking for is one date, dude. She’s hard to break down to agree,” Jared shook his head.

I stood toe to toe with this asshole, my words stone cold and stern so he understood completely. “She isn't available!”

“Really?” He scoffed while stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That’s not what your girlfriend told me. Why do you care so much about who Y/N talks to?”

“Bailey isn’t my girlfriend; not anymore. I broke up with her days ago, it’s not my fucking problem that she can't understand it,” I reiterated for what seemed like the tenth time today.

“Why is she here then?” Y/N muttered behind me.

Ignoring her, I continued to stand tall in between her and Jared.

“So again, Y/N isn’t available,” I repeated.

“Really?” Jared chuckled.

“Yeah, dude. Really.”

One step closer to him.

He outstretched his arms. “I don’t see anyone around to claim her.”

I despised the way he was talking about Y/N; someone that was mine.

“She isn’t a fucking object,” I hissed.

I studied him with unforgiving judgment, an icy stare bored into him, making it hard not to back away. I gripped the glass I had in my hand. My first thought was to throw it to the floor and smash it, but I knew if I did that, I wouldn’t stop until every glass in the cupboard was in shards and Jared’s face was pushed into it.

Violence never solved anything. I had to remind myself that this is not what I am. Not what Y/N would want. I had to keep my composure at best. I had to.

I also would never want to incite fear in Y/N. Never. I knew she wasn’t into him, but I couldn’t help but notice sleazy Jared letting his eyes roam her entire body, as much as she tried to hide herself away. His eyes went to her exposed legs, the colorful and detailed drawings on her right one.

I didn’t like that.

Y/N’s smooth skin. Her perky, round, and full chest was probably what caught Jared’s attention in the first place. At this moment, he became just another enemy. But nobody, not even him, was going to try and take Y/N away from me. Not when she was mine. I wanted her all for myself.

I inhaled and exhaled so harshly; like a fucking bull ready to charge

“I’m not saying she is an object. All I’m saying is-.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re fucking saying,” I barked “And I’m telling you Y/N isn’t available. She’s with me.”

Jared snickered. “If that’s the case then why did she spend the last ten minutes talking to me.”

“I’m right fucking here!” Y/N screamed while pushing past me to now step between us. “Stop acting like I’m not!”

Jared went to reach for her which prompted me to wrap an arm around her shoulder, ready to lead her away.

“We need to talk; let’s go upstairs,” I begged with wide eyes.

She hastily removed my arm from her. “No, fuck you! I have nothing to say to you. This conversation is over.”

“The hell it is,” I snapped while running my hands through my hair. “This isn’t over until we talk into the light. Please, angel. Let's go upstairs.”

Y/N pushed my chest. “Oh, you want to talk now? You’re bored with Bailey so yet again, I’m your second option?”

Jared shifted on his feet. “Am I missing something here?”

I glared at him over my shoulder. “Yeah, none of this concerns you. Fuck off.”

“Noah!” Y/N chastised. “STOP IT!”

My head snapped back to her. “No, don’t Noah me. We need to talk! Without this asshole.”

“Fuck you, man!”

Jared went to reach for me but I was a hair faster than him, pushing him back into the kitchen island. By now, our little argument caught the attention of almost everyone in the house, and the music ceased, an eerie silence falling around us.

“Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me or Y/N.” I seethed, my chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

So many different gazes burned into me but I didn’t give a shit about the scene. The only thing I cared about was Y/N.

“Angel, please can we-,” I turned back around just in time to see her bolt up the stairs, away from everyone.

“Shit,” I muttered while bounding up the stairs two at a time to catch her.

As I reached the landing upstairs, I caught her frame slipping into the bathroom but before I could reach her, the door slammed in my face.

“Y/N,” my voice was soft as my knuckles tapped against the door.

“Leave me alone!” She choked on a sob, it echoing through the wood

My forehead rested against the wall next to the bathroom, the rage and anger that consumed me minutes prior suddenly faded into the void, my heart only feeling one emotion; despair. I needed to feel Y/N in my embrace. I needed to console her and assure her that everything would be okay.

We will be okay.

“Noah, what the fuck was that man?” Davis demanded.

Turning my body around, I leaned against the wall with pure exhaustion and ran my hands over my face; images of Jared’s hands all over Y/N were clear in the darkness.

“He was touching her,” I chewed out. “His hands were-fuck!”

I pushed myself off the wall and began pacing up and down the hall, right in front of my bedroom.

Davis watched with his hands on his hips. “You need to pull it together. What the fuck was that downstairs?! Why hasn’t Bailey left yet? I thought you ordered her an Uber?”

“I’ve been trying!” I snapped while coming to a halt.

But when I saw the look on his face, I sighed while pinching my nose. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you but I’m just so tired of being accused tonight of shit that’s out of my control.

“It’s alright, man,” Davis reassured me.

“Fuck, where’s Chase? Or Malcolm? Maybe they can talk Y/N out of the bathroom.” I suggested.

“Chase is pissed. Malcolm had to hold him back to keep him from coming up here to kick your ass.”

With my hands on the ledge, I peered over it to see that Davis was telling the truth. Malcolm had Chase pinned against the front door, arms on each side of him in a way to lock him in a makeshift cage. It helped that Malcolm was a bit bigger than Chase so he couldn’t push past him, which I was thankful for because his usual bright eyes were dark with hatred. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about up here but I knew with the way Chase pointed up at me and the vein in his forehead throbbing that it wasn’t good. Malcolm rested a hand on Chase’s cheek, the latter immediately relaxing in the former’s touch.

“I never meant for this to happen,” I blew out a shaky breath, doing my best to keep my tears at bay.

It wasn’t fucking fair. I did everything right so why was it coming back to bite me in the ass?

“I know,” Davis stepped up beside me to lay a hand on my shoulder. “I fucking know this is killing you right now. But you have to move past this. Y/N doesn’t deserve this side of you. And frankly, neither do you.”

“I know I said I can wait for years if I have to, Davis. But fuck, I want us right now! I can’t see anything else but Y/N. I want her with me! I want all of her forever. It’s her and me I-.”

A sob crawled its way out of my throat. "I want all of her. Forever.”

“It’s okay, Noah,” he rubbed my back in smoothing circles. “It may not seem like it right now but I promise you, it will be okay.”

The soft click of the bathroom sounded loud in the hallway upstairs but when I turned towards it with a hopeful smile, it faltered when Y/N whipped past us, her hair flowing behind her in waves.

“Angel.”

I reached for her, only for Y/N to rip farther away from me, and retreat downstairs.

READER

Tears fell from my eyes as I hid behind my hair, heels reaching the bottom of the stairs. While my heart beat rapidly in my chest, my mind screamed one thing in my mind over and over again.

You need to leave. Get out. Get out.

I looked around with frantic eyes for Chase and Malcolm, knowing that I wasn’t in the best state of mind to drive. By now, the vast group of people that came for the party had dispersed only leaving our small group of friends. Instead, my gaze locked with Nick R’s and I nearly sobbed at the sight of him. I needed some sort of comfort from someone and it didn’t matter who it was; as long as it wasn’t Noah.

Before I could make my way over towards Nick R., a vice grip wrapped around my elbow to spin me around.

“You couldn’t stay away, could you?!” Bailey’s nails dug into my skin.

I hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Noah could have moved on with me! I could have made him so happy!” Her words slurred together, the heavy stench of alcohol on her breath. “But no, every time I was with him, there you were! You couldn’t fucking leave him alone!”

The tears tasted bitter on my tongue. “Excuse me?”

Bailey chuckled dryly, barely able to keep herself up on two feet. “You’re his fucking ghost. You’re here all the time. It’s a good thing I showed up tonight. I followed my gut. But I don’t know what hurts worse; you and Noah sneaking around behind my back or-.”

“We-.”

She stuck up a finger to hush me. “Behind my back or you both lying about your feelings for each other to my face. You’ve been in love this whole fucking time and I was only a pawn in this story.”

I slowly shook my head, suddenly feeling guilty. It was true, even though we didn’t want to admit it, but she was a pawn. An innocent person caught in the crossfire of a tangled mess of soulmates.

“Bailey.”

“No!” She screamed with her own tears. “What also hurts is that I can’t blame you! I can’t! But I truly don’t know how you’re going to be able to give him anything he needs.”

Pure venom filled her eyes; a snake ready to snap at its prey. “I-I don’t-I know everything and I can’t help but feel sorry for you. I know how hard it will be for you to have a child. How do you think Noah feels about that? You’re taking away his chance of having a family, any chance of normalcy!”

I nearly stumbled back, being smacked in the face with her words, and I blinked rapidly at her. “Wh-How do you know?”

Bailey ignored me by throwing up her hands. “So take him! Noah is all yours. You two fucking deserve each other.”

My eyes now sliced into her. “How the fuck do you know about that, Bailey?”

“He’ll never love me like he loves you, and it’s selfish of you to keep throwing him away.” She yet again avoided my question. “He wouldn’t touch me, never. Especially when you were around. Only that one time but all he thought about was you.”

“I’m not! You don’t know a fucking thing! Noah doesn’t love me! He doesn’t.” I bellowed as loud footsteps came running down the steps.

Noah’s frantic face pleaded for me to stay, to listen, but I refused; I was done with this entire day and wanted to leave.

“I’m leaving,” I said, turning on my heels.

“Angel, please wait!” Noah reached for me, yet again.

“Hang on,” Bailey stepped in front of him, blocking his path to me. “Y/N is Angel?”

I didn’t bother hearing the excuse Noah came up with. My only path was the front door where Nick R. stood, waiting for me with it wide open.

Somewhere an hour outside of Cheston, South Carolina in a nursing home, a resident named Duke was so enamored with the elderly woman that sat beside him. He read to her every day about a story of love, loss, and the power to fight for love.

“Did they love each other?” The woman asks, brushing away the graying strands of her hair.

Duke closed the book and smiled. “They didn’t agree on much. In fact, they didn’t agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common. They were crazy about each other.”

The older lady rested deeper into her chair, a faint smile on her lips.“I like these kinds of stories,”

“Yeah? Me too.” Duke smiled at her and set the book on the table in front of them. “Somewhere out there, I’m sure this exists. It did for me.”

THIRD PERSON POV

“Leave me alone!” Y/N screamed over her shoulder to Noah who was following on her heels.

He let her walk away so many previous times and he was done letting the cycle continue.

“You’re not leaving!” Noah ordered, his voice echoing into the night air.

Chase and Malcolm, who were sitting on the front porch, watched the entire scene unfold in front of them. Chase wanted to intervene, still reeling from what happened before the party ended but Malcolm held him in place with a hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“They need to figure this out on their own, Chase. We can’t keep helping them.”

Davis and Matt also wanted to intervene as they watched through the large window in the living room. They wanted to help, but even they shook their heads.

“This is it. The dam broke and it’s about fucking time,” Matt said while leaning against the wall next to the window.

“Let them hash it out. This is going to be cathartic for both of them.” Davis said while peaking through the curtains.

Steven almost popped out of nowhere with a sigh. “Here we go.”

Suddenly, the dark sky above cracked with a bright light, rain immediately falling from the clouds and soaking Noah and Y/N as they continued their stare off in his driveway.

“Have you been paying attention to anything happening?!” Y/N accused, wet strands of hair clinging to her face.

“No, I guess not!” Noah retorted back. “I must have misread every fucking signal!”

“Guess you did!” Y/N scoffed while turning back on her heels, the loud clicking being muted by the sounds of the onslaught of rain and thunder.

When she opened the door to her car, Noah was quick to slam it shut. “You’re bored! You know it and we wouldn’t keep doing this if something wasn’t missing! But you don’t fucking get it!”

“Get what?” Y/N questioned while trying to open the door again.

Noah slammed it shut again, not allowing her to leave. “WHY?! Why am I not worthy?”

As he screamed those words a few more times, his despair was heard by everyone inside the house who watched with broken eyes, the yellow hue of the street lamp casting him in his own angelic aura.

Y/N’s lips mimicked a fish out of the water, despite being drowned under the rain

“This whole fucking thing of hot and cold with you! You’re being a pain in the ass!” Noah rested his arm on the top of her car, bright eyes burning into hers.

Her eyes bulged out of her head and she gave a hard shove to his chest. “Excuse me? You arrogant son of a bitch, you tell me all this shit! I sit there and tolerate this distraction of yours, who sits there and tells me little theories and fucking intrusive bull shit. She pries into parts of my life; parts she shouldn’t know!”

Noah’s face softened, immediately knowing what Y/N was referring to. “I didn’t tell her, Y/N. I swear to Hades, I didn’t tell Bailey about your endometriosis.”

“Then how does she know? It’s not public knowledge!”

He tried to reach for her but Y/N pushed him away with yet another hard shove. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Chase went to bolt outside into the onslaught of the storm to protect his sister but Malcolm was quick to bring him back inside. Unfortunately, this wasn’t their fight anymore. It was up to Noah and Y/N.

“Angel, please,” Noah begged with a trembling lip. “Come back inside so we can talk about this.”

Y/N ripped her hands through her hair. “There’s nothing to talk about, Noah! Don’t you get it?! We keep running in circles with no positive outcome. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t.”

They both were drenched, limbs shivering from the cold wind and rain, but neither of them made the first move to falter; to end this fight.

“Stop acting like I don’t care about you; about us!” Noah snapped.

“I never said you didn’t! If anything I felt the same way you fucking idiot! I-I’m-.”

The words died from her lips, unable to finish her sentence due to the fear of Noah not feeling the same.

“You what?” He urged while taking a step towards her.

Y/N wildly shook her head as her make up ran down her face, staining her cheeks and neck in mascara.

“I-I can’t.” Y/N pressed her palm into her forehead.

“Yes, you can,” Noah licked his lips in anticipation. “Fuck, Y/N! YOU WHAT?!”

“I’m in love with you! Okay?! I fucking love you.” Y/N turned on her heels to walk down the driveway but stopped, quickly turning to Noah.

Everyone inside the house gasped, all looking at each other.

“Did she?” Folio wondered.

Malcolm had a hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, she did.”

“You always just pretend that everything is fine when it’s not!” She pointed a firm finger at him. “Then you stand there and have the right to say I’m the pain in the ass? Fuck you, Noah! I’m so tired of you pretending that you don’t have feelings for me.”

Noah’s eyes widened with furrowed brows and his jaw slacked. “You-You-’re-wait!”

He shook his head in disbelief but then confusion etched over the features of his face. “I’m pretending? I’ve been trying to tell you for months! But I don’t know how to do any of this, okay? These feelings are new for me and I don’t know how to deal with them!”

“This isn’t going to work,” Y/N sobbed while holding her arms close to her chest, whether it was due to the cold or to protect herself from the feelings, no one but her was sure.

Noah gapped at her. “We haven’t even started anything! And I’m fucking sorry about everything and Bailey! I’m so fucking sorry! I should have never even walked into the record shop that day. My head was a mess after seeing your instagram post and I lost it.”

“Wait,” Y/N shook her head. “What Instagram post?”

Noah ran a hand on the back of his neck. “The one you posted in Japan. I-I thought you found someone there that could get you actual ramen.”

Y/N couldn’t help but internally snicker at that but the anger and hurt she felt outweighed that glimmer of humor.

“So you dated someone because you misunderstood a fucking Instagram post?!” She pushed Noah once again.

However this time, he grasped her hands so she couldn’t pull away. He held them against the beating pulse underneath his soaked shirt.

They were exactly alike. In every aspect. Mannerisms, interests, and their souls were the same. Which is why they always seemed to find their way back to one another, no matter the outcome.

“Just fucking stay with me, Y/N! Stay till the morning and we can figure this shit out. Please,” Noah begged with trembling lips.

“Stay with you?” Y/N pushed away then pointed between them. “Look at us, Noah! All we’ve been doing is bickering and fighting!”

“Well that’s what we do. We fight. You tell me when I am being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you’re being a pain in the ass. Which you are, 99 percent of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a 2 second rebound rate, then you’re back doing the next pain-in-the-ass thing!”

By now, the rain was a terrental down pur, branches of the trees swaying widely in the wind as the sky cracked loudly with lightning and thunder; it shook both Y/N and Noah to their bones.

“So what?” Y/N scoffed. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I fucking love you, angel!” Noah blurted out.

He planned on telling her how he really felt from the moment the feelings clawed their way to the surface but something always managed to get in the way of it. But here, now, outside his house with all of their friends watching, he admitted it to her.

And he’d spend the rest of his days shouting from the rooftops his love for his angel.

“This shit is hard for me. I’m being vulnerable, but fuck, man” Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling his breaths; like Dr. Poulos had told him to do so.

Y/N gazed up at him with a fixed gaze unable to move. “What?”

The onlookers had their ears peeled to their spots, doors and open cracks of the windows.

“Oh thank the gods.” Michael breathed out

“Fuck!” A low clap from Jesse.

Noah stood no less than a few inches apart from Y/N and his arms fell to his sides.

“I love you! I’ve loved you since I heard your fucking voice for the first time through my Ipod that night on Nick’s couch. The first day of the tour when I got off that bus.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered. “You love me too?”

“Yes, angel. I want all of you, you and me! Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? Five, ten years from now. What does it look like? If it’s not with me then, go. Go!”

Noah smacked the hood of Y/N’s car. “I lost you once. Shit, twice. I think I can do it again. If I thought that’s what you really wanted. But don’t you take the easy way out.”

Chase, yet again bolted up from his spot from in front of the window, ready to run outside to protect his sister but now it was Nick R. who stopped him.

“Move,” Chase spat through gritted teeth.

Nick R. shook his head with a stern face. “We can’t intervene anymore. This has to be between them and them alone.”

“He’s getting violent! Noah just punched her car!” Chase yelled, not bothering the sleeping drunk on the couch behind him.

Nick R. stood his ground. “We all know that Noah would never put his hands on Y/N.”

Reluctantly, Chase nodded with a long sigh. “I know, I know. He might be your brother but she’s my sister. I’m just tired of seeing the same scene unfold between them.”

Malcolm gently reached for Chase’s hand and brought him back to the far corner they were seated in.

A loud crack of thunder made Y/N jump closer towards Noah, who instinctively reached for her but held back, not wanting to push her farther than she could handle.

“What easy way, Noah? This isn’t easy!” Y/N sighed. “None of this is easy!”

“No it is, actually.” Noah nodded. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. What do you want from me? What do you want, angel?”

She rapidly shook her head, choking on a sob. “It’s not that simple.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” Noah enunciated every word with a pound fist to his chest.

When Y/N remained silent, Noah grasped her face to bring her into his warm embrace, even with the rain. “God damn it! What do you want?”

Her eyes darted between Noah’s and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He watched as she swallowed thickly, anxiously awaiting her answer.

“I think-,” Y/N stumbled over her words. “I need to clear my head right now.”

Noah’s shoulders drop, disappointment clear on his face. “Are we doing that? Are we back there? What about everything we feel? What about everything that happened hours ago and beyond that. It happened, you know. They’re going to keep fucking happening. We belong together, Y/N.”

The grip on her cheeks tightened, his thumb brushing away the tears or rain, he couldn’t tell, from her cheeks only smearing her make up even more.

“No! I don’t want to go back there. Noah,” she shook her head the best she could in his tight grasp. “I-I need to grasp all of this! But there’s one thing I know for sure; it’s always been you, Noah.”

The crushing weight around his heart lifted at hearing her words. Noah’s thumb brushed along her cheek bone.

“I can stay away if you want me to, but I don’t want to. I know you don’t want me to,” he whispered.

Y/N whimpered while holding onto his wrists with a tight grip. “I love you, Noah. It was never really over for me.”

“It wasn't over and it still isn’t over,” Noah declared while crashing his lips to hers, locking her into place against her car with his hips.

Moving fast, sensual, soft and moist and hot and breathy, not trying to win a battle but seeking union and closeness and the sharing of one breath. One sensation. One timeless and passionate moment. Their hearts were electric as the familiar scars faded with their lips upon each other.

The heat rose in Y/N cheeks as her tongue touched Noah’s, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined. More curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of them.

His hands were so soft despite the callous’ on his fingertips. Holding her face so delicately but with pressure.

The others in the house felt as if they should look away, however, given the rollercoaster they were on, they earned a peek at what their inner hearts also yearn for.

Noah’s hips pressed deeper into Y/N and he swallowed her moan, drinking in every part of her that he craved all this time. Her hands tangled through the strands of his hair, secretly reveling at the length. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Noah could pull off any haircut but deep down, she was thankful that the moment she met him, his hair cascaded to his back in glorious dark waves.

She pulled on the lapels of his leather jacket to bring him closer, her teeth grazing over his bottom lip.

“Angel,” he moaned into her mouth.

“Mochi,” she breathed when his cock pressed against her heated core.

The storm suddenly ceased as soon as their lips met, thunder and lightning no longer.

There was a commotion coming from inside the house, one that went unnoticed by the two forms molding together; their souls connecting in a way that they so desperately needed.

“Noah!”

He pulled away from Y/N, hands still on her face and lips parted, drops of the rain falling into his mouth. One more quick kiss upon those bruised lips, he looked up towards Jesse.

“You have to deal with Bailey.” He said with a stern face. “Now.”

Cursing under his breath, Noah looked back to Y/N. “Don’t leave, alright? Give me a few minutes to deal with her. But I promise, we’re going to finish this.”

Y/N sniffled while wiping away the rain and make up from her face, giving him a slow nod.

With one final peck, savoring the sweet taste on her lips, Noah bounded up the yard with Jesse in tow. However, Nick R. met him half way.

“I know,” Noah held up his hand. “I’m dealing with it now.”

“Good,” Nick R. nodded. “Because Bailey locked herself in the bathroom and won’t leave until you talk to her.

However, unbeknownst to Jesse and Noah who slipped back inside, Bailey managed to exit through the back door unseen. She had her gaze on one person, making a beeline towards her.

“Like I said, you can’t stay away from him!” Bailey screamed.

Y/N was touching her lips softly, as she remembered the kiss, but looked towards Bailey as she stormed into her. Nick R. was ready to head back inside with the rest of them but as soon as he saw Bailey push Y/N into her car, he quickly changed his path. He couldn’t leave the two of them alone, not when Bailey was drunk and actions were unknown.

NICK R

I hung back off to the side but not too far as I watched Bailey and Y/N finally have words with each other.

“You ruined everything!” Y/N brushed Bailey off of her, standing her ground. “This party was for Chase but you couldn’t handle your fucking booze as usual and had to run your mouth!”

“All you had to do was stay away! Why couldn’t you let Noah be happy?” Bailey accused.

Oh, please. The only time the last time I’d seen Noah happy was when he was with Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Y/N scoffed with a dry chuckle. “You were the one that was brought into something you couldn’t understand.”

Something flashed in Bailey’s eyes which made me stand taller in attention. I’ve read the signs. I’ve heard them before. That’s what Bailey didn’t understand. This wasn’t a fling, or a feeling of empty love lost. This was something created by a force no one was sure existed. This wasn’t anyone’s intention. They can’t be apart for too long, the anguish will swallow them whole.

When passion generates within the relationship flows into other areas of life. Bailey disrespected my friend. My best friend’s other half. That just wouldn’t do.

She could yell, scream, and curse the ground Y/N walked on. It wouldn’t change anything. It will never change the course this is.

It’s always Noah and Y/N.

“You want to talk about things you don’t understand? You’re delusional if you think your band can hack it without Trey. He was probably in his right mind to leave and do his own thing.”

Fuck.

I gazed over towards Y/N and my stomach fell at the broken expression on her face.

Bailey continued her onslaught, not caring how deep her words were cutting. Noah told me months ago how fucked up Trey was and how long it took Y/N to over come how far he dug himself into her mind.

“You guys want to be innovative! And be the next big thing but guess what, you’re just going to fall on your face. I got news for you, next time I see your record? Clearance it goes.”

Y/N took a step forward which in turn made me reach and arm out to keep the space. Her eyes flashed to mine but with a curt nod from me, I allowed her to continue what she was going to say.

“You don’t know shit about my life or my music,” she hissed with venom. “What, because you read some blogs online and work in a music shop you think you know what’s best?”

Bailey tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t need to know the little details. I know just enough to know you’re never going to make it and you’re gonna ruin Noah’s life.”

“News flash Bailey, I’ve already fucking made it. With or without Trey, Hollow Souls is where it’s at because of me.”

Y/N stabbed a finger into her own chest and I couldn’t help the proud smile that played on my lips.

“And it will continue to thrive because of me. And Malcolm. And chase. Not some girl's opinion who thinks she knows everything because she’s been in our inner circle for all of two months.”

Bailey opened her mouth to retort but Y/N pushed past my arm so she could get right into her face.

“I would rather chew concrete than ruin Noah’s life. I love him, I’ve loved him for a long fucking time and fuck you for thinking I’m going to allow you or anyone to intervene. Never again.”

With a hand on Y/N’s lower back, I motioned towards the house. “Bailey, I think you’re done here.

All the fight that Bailey had left in her seemed to falter and reluctantly, she turned to retreat back into the house. To do what, it didn’t matter to me. I needed to make sure Y/N was alright.

“Hey,” I finally forced her to look at me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh,” she let out a shaky breath while wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. “No. I’m not. It’s been a shit night.”

“Do you want me to see if Nadine has some clothes for you? Get you out of those wet clothes?” I offered.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I think I’m going to leave.”

My stomach dropped for Noah, knowing that he wished for her to stay. But I wouldn’t force Y/N to stay. But what I could do was give her some sense of reassurance.

“You want to know something cheesy? Something- a little too cliche?” I asked.

“What’s that?” Y/N sniffled with a slight chuckle

I leaned against the car next to her, both of us staring up at the sudden clear sky; stars sparkling upon us.

“The reason why it hurts so much is because your souls are connected.”

“Nicholas-.” Y/N started.

I turned towards her now. “No. No, I’ve been studying up on things like this, purely out of fun; Well, interest? Maybe genuine boredom but that detail doesn't matter. I’ve watched you both for a while now and it’s clear the two of you were always meant to find one another. I thought this kind of shit only existed in books. Turns out, I’ve watched it happen to my best friend. Noah found you. You’re his other half.”

She sobbed quietly. “And he’s mine.”

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “He fucking smiles with you, you know. He laughs with you. You mean everything to him. I’ve known this kid since he was 12-.”

“Did Noah put you up to this?” Y/N questioned.

I shook my head. “No he didn’t tell me to talk to you but as his brother I needed to.”

“I just need-I need a space from this right now, just to get my head together.” Y/N said after a few beats of silence.

I had some reservations about that, ones that I made clear as I opened her car door for her, letting her drop in with a huff of a breath.

“It didn’t work out so well the last time you two had space. So please don’t wait too long, Y/N. One friend to another, I’m begging you, please, don’t break him. You both love each other. Noah can’t stay away from you and you can’t either.”

“I know, Nick, I know. I love him, I- just-,” she rested against her head rest.

I lent in her car to start it, quickly turning on the heat, before leaning over the open door once again.

“Work on your record. Get all this angst out. But don’t make him wait forever,” I said.

“It won’t be, I promise,” Y/N smiled up at me. It was weak and faint but it was there. “Can you tell him I had to go but we’ll talk soon.”

I buckled her seatbelt, making sure she was safe. “I will. I’ll let Malcolm and Chase know you left too.”

“Thank you, Nicholas.”

“Oh Y/N?” I hesitated before shutting the door.

Broken but hopeful eyes stared up at me. “Hm?”

“The album release- we’re only a few songs away from mixing and mastering. It’s almost done. Keep an eye out of those deets,” I pointed a playful finger at her.

She smiled again, this time large and bright. “Noted.”

I stood with my hands in my pockets as I watched her pull out of the driveway, giving one final wave as she turned down the block. With a deep breath, I focused my attention on another friend that needed my help. I know that he was dealing with a huge issue inside and he needed to know the truth.

As I stepped back inside the house, it didn’t surprise me to see that everyone in our inner circle had filled the kitchen as they watched the scene of Noah and Bailey unfold in front of them.

Chase went to rise to his feet from the kitchen island but I assured him with a tigh smile.

“She’s okay. She went home,” I mouthed.

That eased Malcolm and Chase only slightly as they went back to watching this mess unfold.

Bailey looked my way but my eyes were locked on Noah and I could see he was one more blow away from breaking.

It’s intervention time.

I knew where Noah was headed and it wasn’t good. Bailey let into him, and had no qualms on what she said to Y/N.

If looks could kill.

No scratch that. If Noah could change into a werewolf I think he would. The rage he held in his shoulders was proof enough.

NOAH

I felt that rage burning low in my gut again as Bailey stood in front of me. I wanted to kick her out, have her find her own way home, but the good part of me knew that it wasn’t right. She was drunk and it was late, something could happen to her and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Thankfully while I was outside with Y/N, Matt called Bailey an Uber that was minutes away.

A few more words and this whole mess would be done and over with.

“Bailey, you need to tell Noah what you said to Y/N,” Nick said as he came up next to me.

My eyes snapped up from the old, worn, floors and up to her face. “What is he talking about?”

She shifted on her feet with hesitation before she explained every mean and hurtful thing she told Y/N tonight; no ounce of regret on her face.

“How could you say that to her?” I snapped while running a wild hand through my hair. “Why?! You think you know everything but you don’t know a fucking thing. My god, you were one of my biggest mistakes. You need to get the fuck out of my house and life. I’m serious.”

Except, she ignored me and rested her hands on her hips. “Y/N is Angel?”

My brow furrowed. “Why the fuck does that matter?”

“Uh,” Bailey hesitated, fidgeting with her nails. “I thought that’s what you called me because when I saw the contact in your phone-.”

“What the fuck,” I doubled back, head swirling in disbelief. “You went through my phone?”

A low whistle sounded from the kitchen but I didn’t have to look to see that it came from Matt.

Betrayal dug its knife deeper into my chest.

“I-I-just wanted to see what you were hiding-,” Bailey stammered. “I looked through your phone. I had this feeling you were hiding something from me. I thought it was my name but the texts didn’t match up.”

Suddenly, the little light bulb in my head clicked on.

“That’s how you know about Y/N’s endometriosis. You saw the group chat with me, Malcolm, and Chase?”

Bailey remained silent, only nodded to give me an answer.

“What the fuck, Bailey?! You know how private I am but yet you still went through something of mine!” I began to pace the room, running a hand over my face.

“I heard the voicemail, Noah! I just thought if we talked it out- I don’t know. We could work it out,” Bailey blew out a shaky breath.

I came to a halt in front of her. “There’s nothing to work out, Bailey. We're done; finished. You never should have been in the picture to begin with.

“Noted,” she nodded. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it? It’s always about her! I knew it. I should have followed my gut!”

A look flashed across her face. “You’ve thought about her..with me didn’t you?”

Everyone’s eyes landed on me like a burning itch to the back of my neck.

“Bailey,” I sighed, suddenly done with this conversation.

“She’s the one, isn’t she?” Bailey questioned, all the anger gone from her eyes and voice.

There was no use in denying the truth any longer. Y/N and I confessed our love for each other, it was time everyone else knew about it. Although, I’m sure they already did.

When I finally nodded to Bailey, it hit like a ton of bricks. She said those things, she uttered them. She spit at the face my soul was intertwined with.

I dare put my angel through this. That’s over now; never again will I put in the crossfires of someone else’s demons. This was my last battle. I could sense Bailey understood, but she wasn’t grasping with the idea that I wasn’t hers. She needed to let go.

There was something in the way I shouted at her earlier, a pain behind it. “How could you speak to her that way?”

My heart hurt, my hand clutching my chest in anguish. It’s as if I could feel her pain physically.

Must be a soulmate thing.

Nicholas watched me, he watched my eyes then he knew.

The anger was nothing but a shield for pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life, lonely, desperate. I breathed in real slowly.

What if nothing blew up? What if Bailey just truly didn’t grasp this?

With a deep breath, I rested my hands on my hips. “Bailey. I’m sorry. I wish I could give you what you’re looking for but I can’t.”

Once again my emotions turn jagged and my insides tight. I waited, wide eyed and heart in my mouth, hoping for kindness, when I explained this again.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. It was never my intention. I sincerely apologize,” I continued. “I fucked up and admit that. It was never supposed to get this far. I just-I’ll never get over these feelings for her. She’s all I think about. I love her and although I'm not proud you were caught in the crossfire. I’m not sorry for who I love. It’s always her, that’s my angel.”

Finally, a hint of a smile cracked on her stone face. “I already know what this was. There’s a part of you that you kept closed off from everyone, including me. It’s as if I wasn't the one you were really with. Your mind was always on her.”

My face twitched as she cupped my cheek “Don’t let her slip away, Noah. It will be the biggest regret and I don’t want to see it destroy you.”

I gently removed her hand and nodded. “Thank you. Again, I’m sorry.”

“I apologize for the scene I caused tonight. That wasn't mature of me. I was hurt but this wasn’t fair to any of you,” Bailey began to sober up. “I also owe a big one to Y/N.”

“Well make sure to let her know.”

“Uber is here,” Matt shook his phone while walking to the front door, opening it for it.

With a tight smile, Bailey grabbed her things and quickly ran out the door. Matt, with a two finger salute, kicked the door shut and locked it for good measure.

“Good fucking riddance,” he muttered under his breath.

“Wait, Y/N’s still outside,” I shed off my jacket, tossing it on the railing of the staircase. “Let her in.”

“Noah,” Nick spoke up. “She left.”

My eyes snapped over to him, heart rate intensifying as my breathing became harsh and ragged.

“She told me she’d stay,” I swallowed thickly.

My ears rang with white noise as the room began to close in around me.

“Don’t panic Noah, I spoke to her,” Nick reassured me with a hopeful smile.

“But-,” I shook my head.

“It’s okay. Y/N just needs to work through this. It’s a new phase Noah. You both have to get passed through some shit. You love each other. You are going to be together. Just have some hope.”

Knowing there was nothing I could do at this moment, I nodded and thought about that one word.

Hope.

Hope is in the way I feel like I can smile, in the way we are quiet when she can reach out with her eyes.

Gathering strength to make a better choice, to breathe and let love have a moment to guide me, to guide us.

I knew Y/N needed a little space after this. I knew that, perhaps I needed space as well. To feel love and be loved back.

We love each other. We love each other.

I still had a few things I needed to work out, and I think she might too.

Hope is in that soft shrug of hers, the playfulness of her smile. Every time we reach for the sun.

Maybe when we’re not so different, we will make amends and no longer having to pretend.

Nick’s voice was faltering as I sped up the stairs towards my bedroom where my phone was, still perfectly perched on my desk; almost as if Bailey set it back in the exact spot it was before she looked through it.

Me: Why’d you leave?

Message Undeliverable.

“What the fuck?” I muttered while sending another text.

Me: I understand you have some things to work on and so do I. But please don’t stray too far, Y/N. I’ll wait for years if I have to.

Message Undeliverable.

Fuck.

There was a chance her phone was off but that didn’t deter me from stopping.

Me: I love you.

I breathed out a chuckle when I saw the text bubble turn blue, meaning the text went through.

Angel 🪽: I love you too, mochi.

The corner of my lips curled up in a smile as that word echoed in my mind again.

Hope.

As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror shirtless and a pair of warm gray joggers, sometime after setting my phone back down, I had the scissors on one end of the counter and a buzzer on the other. A soft knock sounded on the opened door and I gave a weak smile to Folio.

“Are you doing alright?” He questioned while leaning against the doorframe.

“It hurts, knowing that once again there’s this space between us but the outcome is different this time around. For once, there’s hope.”

“It’ll be okay man,” he assured me.

“I know.”

Folio pushed himself off the door frame to hope up on the bathroom counter. “There’s no fucking universe where yall don’t end up together.”

“Thank you for your optimism,” I smiled lightly.

"It’s true! Somehow in every universe you end up together. Whether you two are married with a son named Kenji or she joins us on the road together after the two of you spend one night together."

My heart fluttered at the sound of those alternate lives. “Kenji? Let me guess-we kick Matt’s ass in Mai tai?”

“Yes, bro!” Folio smacked my chest. “ Y/N is always meant to be there, Noah.”

I leaned against the opposite wall. “It’s wild how thought out you have this idea of me and Y/N.”

“Ah, I don’t know,” he shrugged with that goofy smile. “I can see it. There’s other universes out there, you know? I watched this special about it on Discovery+ or some shit.”

“That so?” I raised a brow with a chuckle.

“Yeah, who knows. But I believe y’all will be.”

We fell in silence for a long beat before it was me who smacked his chest. "Michelle has you watching these specials, huh?”

Folio scoffed while rolling his eyes. “She barely pays attention after she asks to put it on.”

I couldn't help but laugh, imagining Y/N snoozing on my lap after we watched another episode of I Think You Should Leave.

“I can’t wait to have that,” I admitted.

“In time. I promise you. I'm your friend, and I know. Take the time you both need. Heal. I’m a firm believer in patience when you’re trying to catch a good one. Trust me, I’m a fisherman,” Folio grinned while adjusting his fishing cap.

“Fucking fishboy,” I rolled my eyes with a smile.

A hopeful one.

“So what’s with that?” He pointed to the scissors.

I shrugged while holding the scissors now. “I’ve had all this weight at the back of my neck for years now. I need something new, a breath of fresh air. I’m suffocating. I need to see the back of my fucking neck, man.”

“I’m not going to be here in case you regret that decision,” Folio patted my shoulder before jumping off the counter, leaving me alone yet again.

With a long breath, I gathered my hair in a low ponytail, keeping it in one hand while I brought the scissors to it, the sound of chopping echoing in the small bathroom.

“Hang up my shame on display for you,” I sang low as I held up the cut ponytail in front of my face.

I shivered when a cold breeze brushed against the nape of my neck, reveling in the feeling.

When there was no light, when there was nothing beyond the boundaries of my skin, hope was a ladder woven of heaven’s vibrations that spoke right to my healing soul.

Hopes was a ladder that both Y/N and I could make it to the top. Because I believe it's destined in our hearts.

All I knew is that Y/N loves me back.

She fucking loves me.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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ugh-yoongi · 7 months

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the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin��s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. “Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. <3

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