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awrkive · 8 months ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!"

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that!

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away.

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him.

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com.

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless.

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes.

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you.

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either.

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you.

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost.

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed.

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck! Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

#fic: nb #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

3K notes · View notes

saturnsorbits · 10 months ago

Text

LiSyK: Lesson One

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Concubine Reader and Kirishima, Smut, Voyeurism, Unprotected Sex, Unprepared Sex, Cum Eating (Kinda). Word Count: 5k.

A/N: So, it's a series... No regular uploads, I'm just going to see where it goes.

Bakugo claps his hands, the sound echoing around the chamber like a rifle shot. 'You'll find my bed behind you.'

You blanch. 'Your bed, my lord?'

Concubines were a fixture of the royal rooms and have been for as long as anyone could remember. It wasn't unusual to see a collection of beautiful men and women lounging in living rooms or bedrooms, their skin almost entirely bare with only silk and gold to adorn them. Some, if favoured enough, were even gifted their own rooms were they could entertain their lord at their leisure.

And yet, it was unheard of to entertain a prince in his own chambers.

'Is there something wrong with my bed?' Bakugo's voice is a growl, low and deadly in the back of his throat. The idea of seeing you, the two of you, in his own bed sets up a stirring in his groin – one the demands to have its reward.

'No... No, I -.'

Kirishima's voice is an even timber when he steps in, easily picking up where your babbling had left you off. 'To share your personal bed chamber is a true honour, my lord.'

You curtsey, bowing you head low, thankful for the out.

The implications of Bakugo's excitement swarm in his head, but the buzzing never comes close to dampening his desire. Nodding towards the bed, he clenches his jaw tight. He'll deal with whatever fall out that comes later, right now... Both his heart and cock are set on this. 'Continue.'

Perching on the edge of the bed, you scoot backwards until your back presses against the plush cushions piled at the headboard. You can feel your pulse migrate, its steady rhythm sinking lower and lower until you're forced to resist the urge to cover your sex.

At the foot of the bed stands Kirishima. He smiles, soft and without his teeth, the apples of his cheeks swelling as he tries to render you at ease. The bump of his throat bobs as he leans forward, hands braced on the mattress as he prepares the advance on you, but before he can move, Bakugo's voice is ringing out clear from across the room.

Even across the room, Bakugo's throne feels far too close for comfort. He perches there, one knee raised with all the posture of a boy king. Atop his head the gold circlet of his crown sits off centre, the mess of his hair forcing it to tip towards his forehead. Beneath, his ruby eyes shine – deadly in their stare as he grips the edges of his chair with an almost white-knuckled force.

'Strip.' It's a command. One he's glad doesn't slip from his tongue with the anxiety that bubbles in his stomach. The acid is thick there, anticipation turning to bile as he fidgets, hoping neither of you can see his cock already raising to half mast under his trousers. 'Bare yourself to us.'

You swallow, tasting trepidation at the back of your tongue as you sit up and work at the straps of your covering. You'd been gifted new clothing after being chosen by the prince, upgrading your simple cloth rags for finer silks and golden bands. Now, a thin silken top cascades over your chest, the folds of the material deep and red, like waves of fresh fire licking at your skin. At your neck, a chain keeps the material from falling as it hangs from your golden collar.

The collar bares a series of symbols. Those for both the house of Bakugo, granting you movement throughout the entire fortress and those for the prince himself: a mark of his ownership. The chain wraps your back too, meeting in a clasp that you quickly undo, allowing the material to sink and expose the edges of your breasts as you work at loosing the chain to let the entire article slip away.

Kirishima's eyes linger. He can't help it. The fabric covering you slips to the mattress and immediately leaves you bare. Soft tits fill his vision, the gentle rise and fall of your chest making them jiggle slightly as you try and calm your breathing. His palms are sweating, making him thankful for the bedsheets under his hands and his voice demands he speak words of praise and devotion, even despite his not having permission to utter a word.

For the prince to be able to touch you seems obvious, for you're nothing short of a royal gift, but for him... He's not quite sure how he managed to get so lucky to be allowed to lay his eyes on a treasure such as you.

'Show him everything.' Bakugo clicks his tongue. His fist is balled in his pants, pulling them from his crotch to save their staining. Shifting in his seat, he attempts to hide his arousal. Not for the first time, he's glad he placed himself away from your gazes.

'Yes, my lord.' Your breathing catches as you unbuckle the silk skirt at your hips. You'd been denied underthings. Such items are inconvenient for the prince, should his cock wish to be buried in your tight heat at short notice. Instead, leather straps sit at your hips with long silken strips of material stitched to their edges. Falling to mid calf, the material flows effortlessly with your movement just as it drifts easily to the floor now as you unbuckle it.

'Knees apart.'

You comply, sensing the tightness in the princes voice and drop your knees, exposing the softness of your inner thighs and the sweetness of your sex to the air.

You're dripping. Even from this distance Kirishima can tell. There's a sheen coating your skin, a slick mix of arousal that gives off a heady scent. It infests his lungs, soaks into the roof of his mouth as he drags more of your aroma into him with each breath. His fingers twitch on the mattress gathering more sheet between them as he tries to stop himself from moving too soon and gaining the punishment of the prince.

Bakugo leans so far off his throne he's not confident he won't fall. He's never smelt sex before, but if it smells anything like you do, he's not sure he'll ever be able to be without it. Your musk is an aphrodisiac, making his mouth water and his cock twitch as he gives up attempting to hide his erection. Reaching for his belt, he loosens the buckle and reaches into his pants squeezing around the base of his cock as he pulls it into the air.

The princes cock is average in length. Delicate, almost, in how it bends slightly to the left – the rose petal head rounded and plump, dribbling more than it's fair share of pre-cum down the man's fist. Along the pale shaft, a series of purpling vein's break up the tone. Most are wide, pulsing with his heartbeat and splaying as they reach his base, where a delicate crop of blonde hair obscures the rest. It's darker than the hair on his head, closer to the brown of his fathers as it trails, reaching up over the muscle of his stomach and beyond.

Kirishima gulps, quickly snapping his gaze from over his shoulder and back to you. He can't say for certain, but he's pretty sure he has a bigger cock than the prince.

It should be an ego boost, something to brag about in those few moments of peace he's awarded outside of his royal duty, except there's just one thing he's worried about.

You.

'Stretch yourself...' Clenching his teeth, Bakugo refuses to show his breathlessness. His cock kicks in his hand, demanding a friction he withholds; but even with his precaution, there's no removing his affliction entirely from his visage. He straightens, rolling his shoulders to flatten against the back of his throne. Still, greed and longing sink into his tone. 'Let me see.'

Reaching between your thighs, you do as your told. The stickiness of your cunt clings to your fingers immediately, your clit twitching as clumsy fingers spread into a 'V' to expose your insides.

'Fuck.' The word trips from Kirishima's tongue carelessly and drops into the air like the last firework at new year. Around him, the world freezes – the muscles of his shoulders tense as he watches your abdomen hitch. He hadn't been given permission to speak. For all he knows, your allure has truly become the end of him. After all, it isn't unknown for rulers to punish their concubines for far less than speaking out of turn.

Bakugo clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and savours the knot that appears in the centre of Kirishima's back. The muscles bunch, writhing in a manner that makes him wonders if he could recreate it. 'Yeah...' He sighs. 'Fuck.' Coughing the delicacy from his voice, he licks over his lips before addressing the scene again. 'You. Kirishima. Strip.'

Kirishima complies in a heartbeat.

His loin cloth is much like yours in design, a thick strip of leather wrapping his waist just below his navel that buckles at either hip. Attached is the same material, thin and translucent and falling to mid-thigh; sheer enough to almost see the heft of his cock as it lays against his thighs.

Thick fingers work at the buckles, nimbly loosening the leather until he can swiftly shuck the material down his legs and discard it with a flick of his foot.

From his throne, Bakugo has to bite back the groan that threatens to rock through his chest and spill into the air. His mouth waters. Kirishima's cock is larger than he'd expected... A lot larger than he'd expected.

It bends under it's own weight, almost hanging despite his being fully hard. His foreskin is dark, a flush of deep mauve that slips back just enough to expose a slither of dark cherry head. Pre-cum leaks from him like a tap. It glistens on his skin, making the two thick vein's that raise from his skin just below his head glow in vague purple as they pulse. The crop of hair at his base is thick and black, a stark contrast to his own pale, downy hair.

Bakugo swallows, ridding his throat of the desire to be full. His tongue flattens to the roof of his mouth, his taste buds desperate for a lick of whatever divine nector drips from the pair of you. 'Go on then...' He barks, excitement flooding his bloodstream as he attempts to maintain some kind of dignity with his hand still squeezing the base of his cock. 'Fuck her.'

'I... Uhm,' Kirishima's cock bobs, threatening to steal his cohesion. He struggles to remember his teachings, a million and one things racing through his mind as he tries to remember the diagrams and words of the old mothers. 'I need to, to... Prepare her first.'

'Of course.' Bakugo frowns. He knew that. Of course, he knew that – he's eager, that's all. Maybe a little too eager.

'Can... Can I?' Kirishima's eyes shine when he brings them up to meet you. There's a gentleness there, a softness that barely disguises the blind pleasure that coils his stomach into knots. He reaches forward, a hand brushing the skin of your shin as his thumb draws an awkward half-circle in your calve.

You nod. With your fingers still spreading your cunt, you can feel the rush of slick that gathers there as you wait under his gaze for your devouring. It coats your fingers, leaving strings of pearl on your skin like jewellery.

Kirishima climbs up onto the bed, forcing it to dip under his weight. You feel bare laying there, exposed, as you watch his eyes dip between your legs and grows hungry. Fighting the urge to snap shut your legs and scramble away, you force yourself to relax. No-one has seen you quite like this before. Your intimacies have always been your own, exposed only to the King's consort Inko to confirm your virginity before a bright 'V' had been painted on your chest.

You wonder if you're pretty down there. If you look appealing... Fuckable.

A large hand wraps your thigh, a reassuring squeeze drawing you from your thoughts and back into the moment. Kirishima smiles, the tips of his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he reaches out with his other arm and hovers centimetres away from your sex. He catches your eye, eyebrows raising slightly on his forehead as the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. 'You'll tell me if you want me to stop, won't you?'

There's a trepidation lingering under his skin, the kind of anxiety that is laced with excitement and easily highlights his inexperience and yet, his movements are sure when he finally touches you.

The pad of his thumb swipes at your clit making your back arch. Your eyes widen as the breath is taken from your lungs, a soft gasp leaping from your mouth. You become aware of your body then, more aware than you've ever been as the tingles of pleasure begin to recede with his touch. It leaves you raw and desperate, hips lifting from the bed in order to seek him out once more.

'Louder.' Bakugo's voice is broken. His cock still sit in his hand, pulsing angrily at it's neglect. Already he can feel his balls pulling up tight against him, threatening an end to something he hasn't even been able to start yet. 'Make her louder.'

Kirishima repeats the action. This time, the pad of his thumb presses harder, circling, until he earns another gasp from your lungs. He's surprised to learn that you're soft. Softer than he'd expected. You're so wet he can feel it clinging to his skin, the heat radiating through his thumb and making his mouth water. Against the mattress his cock stirs, smearing pre-cum against his stomach as he grinds down, offering himself only the smallest amounts of relief. He licks his teeth. 'Can...' His thumb moves lower, slipping off the wet hood of your clit and hovering over your entrance. 'Can I?'

'Please.' Lifting your hips from the bed, you attempt to rub his thumb back over your clit, desperate for more of his touch. You don't know what he's offering, you're not sure you care as long as it means you get to feel his hands on you again. 'Please...'

With your permission, Kirishima presses into you until you squeeze around the base of his thumb. You're hot inside, your walls silken and soaking, tightening around him as he pulls back out, testing your reactions. His eyes flicker to yours, a quick check in before he twists his wrist and offers you two fingers. This time you struggle with the stretch. He can feel it, the flutter in your walls as you breathe through the intrusion, but soon enough, you're relaxing, sucking him in and whining soft and breathy above him.

Your voice doesn't feel like your own. Each noise that escapes you is new, sinfully sweet as it escapes your throat and floats through the air. The women at the temple may have trained you, but they had never prepared you for this. Their lessons had always been focused on pleasing, not being pleased – the pillow dances and allure routines, all of it was useless here with you on your back and a man's thick fingers pressing up into the spongy roof of your cunt.

You writhe as a pressure builds below your pubic bone, encouraging a series of moans to leak from your mouth. It feels as though you might burst as your cunt clenches, but before you can discover just what comes next Bakugo's voice is spilling into the room and Kirishima's fingers still inside of you.

Bakugo is hanging on by a thread. His cock has gone pale with his grip around the base, his balls pulled so tight he can feel his pulse beating through them. Still, he refuses to embarrass himself. Not without seeing what he came to see. 'That's enough...' He speaks through his teeth, gritting out his words. 'Fuck her already.'

Kirishima looks to you before he moves. His brow is set, his eyes cool as he waits for your permission once again. He crawls over you until his arms bracket your shoulders, your chests almost level.

You look stunning like this, your lips shining, eyes wide and watery as you heave in deep, steadying breaths. There's no denying that he wants you, the sheer fact he's been allowed to touch you alone has his cock jumping against his stomach, but his mother's taught him to be respectful before anything else and so, he waits...

'I said...' Bakugo growls, but before he can finish his sentence, you're shifting.

Looking between you body and Kirishima's, you stifle a squeak as you see just what you have to contend with. Lined up as he is, it seems as though he'd reach your navel with ease – a far from appetising idea and yet, there's a yearning that spreads from the curve of your stomach to the depths of your cunt. One that has your insides tingling.

You don't care how big he is.

Don't care if it'll hurt.

As a matter of fact... A small piece of you wishes it will.

You reach between your legs, petting over your pubic hair until you can smooth your fingers across the twitching peak of your clit. A breathy whine slips from between your lips, but you continue, denying yourself in the quest for something more. Slipping further, you take two of your own fingers and arc your spine, feeling the beating of your cunt squeezing around you softly. With the other hand, you lean forward, taking Kirishima's cock in your palm and giving it a slow, gentle tug.

The man shudders at your touch. His whole body quakes at the faintest gripping of your fingertips, thick muscles rippling like he might collapse. Locking his elbows, he narrowly avoids falling on top of you as you ease him down and press his tip to your clit. He's panting openly now, his chest heaving as he struggles against the sin of your hands. If he's like this now, he dares not to think of what the tight heat of your cunt will do to him.

Tapping him against you once, twice – you enjoy each jolt of pleasure as it zips down your legs. It leaves you tingling and wanting more as you finally, finally line him up with your entrance. His cock catches against you, but before you can bask in the power you hold over him, Kirishima slips his hand between your bodies and collects your wrists in one, large palm.

He doesn't speak when he pins your hands above your head, he doesn't think he can. Instead, he holds your eye and hopes you can see what you're doing to him. Shifting his hips, he rocks into you and almost sees the Gods when the head of his cock sinks into you. You feel divine, hot and wet and tight and begging for his release. He breathes, unsure just how long he'll last. For a moment he waits, giving you just the tip and nothing more, waiting for the both of you to adjust.

The stretch he gives you is impossible. Even with so little of him inside of you, you feel full, incapable of taking the more you know he's going to give you. There's a burn radiating through your pelvis, a persistent, but delectable pain that subsides only as you breathe through it. You moan, a pretty noise escaping your throat as you feel him rut just a little deeper, taking the air from your lungs. Fisting your hands in whatever bedsheets you can find, your ribcage lifts from the bed, tits pressing flush with Kirishima's chest.

Bakugo thinks he might explode. He can see the rim of your cunt, Kirishima's cock stuffing it full and barley a quarter in. It's exhilarating as he watches both of you shiver, trying to hold it together as much as possible. Loosening his grip on his cock, he chances a slow, but firm pull upwards and quickly regrets it.

You moan, eyes rolling as flick up your hips as harshly as you can. The movement sheaths him further inside of you, dragging a harsh grunt out of his lungs as he falters. His cock presses up into you, bringing tears to your eyes as he slides back out almost immediately, but his fullness isn't a sensation you're willing to give up. Desperation claws at you, begs you for more, for a release you're dying to experience. 'Please, please, please...'

You're incensed, but then again, so is Kirishima.

Maybe that's why he gives you what you want, despite knowing you probably can't take it. Dipping his head to your neck, he rolls his hips to fill you completely and hopes he he can hold out long enough to please both you and the prince.

Your body struggles, cunt pulsing with that familiar sweet throb as he stills his movements once more and waits. You feel light headed, your body pulled taught as you hiccup through your next few breaths.

Teeth graze the junction of your shoulder, a whispered 'Is it too much?' tickling your ear before you feel the slow sensation of him pulling out. You move instantly. Wrapping your legs around him, you stop his retreat and squeeze tight, anxious to keep him inside, to be stretched and full.

The moan he lets out is pure sin. It's deep, guttural, lingering in his throat as he rocks his hips back into you and basks in the heaven that your cunt provides. With your ankles locked at the base of his spine, he's forced to bottom out – his thicket of pubic hair brushing against your clit making you twitch and writhe against him.

A strangled whine leaves Bakugo's throat as he comes to terms with his nearing end. He fucks his fist, hips lifting from the cushioned throne seat as he quickens his pace, eyes glued to were your two bodies meet on the bed. It takes barely a handful of strokes, especially when Kirishima's hips begin to move earning a cacophony of moans from both of your throats.

You can't help it. Neither of you can.

Both of your eyes drift to the back of the room, stealing quick glances at the prince. He looks ethereal, lost to his own throws of pleasure with his eyes squeezed shut and his head tipped back. A trickle of moans sneak from his lips despite his breath catching behind his Adam's apple, making goose flesh prickle on both of your arms. It feels wrong, to watch him like this – to see him so vulnerable, throat exposed, cock in his hand and cumming in his own fist, but you swear you've never seen a more beautiful sight.

He cums in waves. His body shaking as he coats his fist, his hand still smoothing the rest of his orgasm from his body. Eventually, his breathing levels out, the faint tingle from his release making him loose and light-headed. His skin prickles. The odd tug of being watched itching at the back of his neck, but when he finally blinks open his eyes there's no-one watching him.

Kirishima groans. He could feel you, your cunt pulsing around him as you watched the prince come undone. It spurs something inside of him, calls on him to please you in the way your body so desperately wanted to be pleased. Spreading his legs a little wider, he forces your hips open allowing him to reach even deeper inside of you and begins to rock his hips.

Something spoilt bubbles in your stomach. Watching the prince has made you hungry, but before you can get carried away feeling jealous of his release Kirishima begins to fuck you. Each of his thrusts gets deeper, his pace quickening until it becomes hard to concentrate. His cock fills you perfectly, making your whole body raw in a way you've never felt before.

It isn't long before Kirishima feels the tell tale pit in his stomach begin to swell. His balls pull up tight, the muscle in his abdomen twitching as he holds onto his composure with his finger tips. Still, he knows exactly what he has to do. Angling his hips down, he ensures his pubic bone brushes yours with each stroke, the thick mess of hair at his stomach tickling over your clit with each stroke.

You moan with each of his thrusts. There's no pain now, no sharp stabbing as his cock presses up inside of you. Instead, there's the dullness of a rising pleasure, one that threatens to tip you over the edge at any moment as you hold on for dear life. With your wrists still bound in his, it's impossible to pull him as closely as you want him, but Kirishima seems to read your mind.

Without pausing his rhythm, Kirishima presses his forehead to yours. Your eyes lock, the wildness in your iris' laid bare for him as his brow scrunches in concentration. He learns more about you in those following few seconds than he has for the week you'd been sequestered together before the selection. It's as if he's attuned to every inch of you, every hitch of your breath, each twitch of your lip and pulse of your cunt.

That's why he sees it coming.

He watches as your eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back towards the ceiling of the bed chamber. Your chest heaves, breath lodged there as a wave of pleasure strong enough to steal your breath rolls through you. Your mouth drops open, lips spit slicked and shining.

And then, then he feels your cunt pulse.

You milk him endlessly. Tightening around him in a vice he's not sure he'll ever want to escape, your pleasure is the most delectable thing he's ever experienced. A groan leaves his throat raw, his biceps shaking as he keep fucking your through your high, prolonging it for as long as possible. There had always been talk of what it was like to make a woman cum, the teachings endless, but none of it had come close to the real thing.

'Not...' Bakugo is breathless. His crown is still lob-sided, his smile lazy and satisfied as he kicks a leg back over the arm of his throne. 'Not inside. Don't come inside of her. That's an order.'

'Yes... Yes, my lord.' With his composure waning, Kirishima waits barely a beat, just until your cunt relaxes, the ghost of a smile tugging at the side of your lip. And then, he pulls out.

You whine, lurching forward as your wrists are released, but you don't get very far before thick strings of pearl are being lashed over your tits. The liquid is warm and coats your skin generously, painting you in his release. Above you, Kirishima fists his cock. His abdomen is tight, his nose scrunched, eyes heavy and half-lidded as he fights to keep looking at you.

And then, just like that, it's over.

The prince allows you a moment of reprieve, a minute or two to bask in the enormity of what has just occurred. The deflowering of a concubine was often a ritualised event and yet, here you were, with the spend of another concubine on your chest having just been taken for the first time. Kirishima's palm curls around your shoulder, steadying you as your world spins. His comfort is welcomed, something you offer him back with a hand on his thigh.

Bakugo clears his throat. 'Go...'

Your head snaps towards him, eyebrows scrunched. There's a shake in your knees still, one you're not sure will support you if the prince chooses to toss you out of his chambers so soon.

Licking his lips, there's a new softness in Bakugo's tone when he speaks again, shifting in his seat as he does. 'Go clean yourselves up. There's a bath through those doors, the servants should have it warm by now. You're welcome to it and whatever you wish to use in there. Sooth your muscles and return to your own quarters. I'll call for you again tomorrow.'

Kirishima glances at you and shrugs. There will be time to talk about the princes strangeness later, for now, you're not about to turn down a chance for a dip in the royal baths. Scrambling to your feet, Kirishima supports you into a messy curtsey before the prince before you slip out of the room and descend upon a world of luxury.

The door to the baths slams shut behind you, leaving Bakugo alone once again. He shouldn't have let you in there either, people will certainly talk if you're discovered, but the servants are obedient folk and his harsh nature keeps away the other prying eyes efficiently enough.

Springing from his seat, he crosses the room in barely two strides before he's at the bed. He crawls across it, feeling the warmth of your bodies still radiating through the sheets as he goes, imagining what it will feel like to be caught between the scene he witnessed only moments earlier. There's evidence of the act. Dips where you'd been lying, the sheets rumpled and tossed, but the thing that catches his eye is the darkened wet patch clear on the bed.

He doesn't think, he just moves. His chest meets the bed, his tunic falling open to allow rosy nipples to rub against the sheets as his tongue slips from behind his teeth and drags across the wetness. The taste of you bursts across his tongue. A deadly mix of both you and Kirishima ensnares him, causing him to go back for more. He laps at the sheet until his saliva mixes with your essence overpowering your tastes, leaving him wanting.

Collapsing on the bed, Bakugo stares up at the ceiling and listens to the hushed tones and splashes of you in the next room.

Tomorrow. He thinks.

Tomorrow, he'll have you...

Or, at least some of you.

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#bakugo x reader smut #kirishima x reader smut #kiribaku x reader smut #mha smut #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles #LiSyK: Lesson One

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witchywithwhiskey · 3 months ago

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if the fates allow

pairing: avenger!captain america!steve rogers x tall!shield agent!female reader

summary: steve rogers accidentally got drunk at the avengers tower christmas party, and you're the one tasked with helping him get to bed. it's a good thing you have plenty of practice keeping your crush on him a secret.

warnings: sexual tension, steve is drunk, reader is conflicted (nothing happens while steve's drunk), feelings are expressed, kissing, sleepy cuddling, i think that's pretty much it!

word count: 2.9k

a/n: here's my december 13 fic for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!" tried to keep this one short and sweet so that i can catch up, so if something doesn't make sense, just ignore it i guess! also this is my first time writing a specifically tall!reader and that was nice since i'm on the taller side 😅 hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

“I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!”

Steve Rogers’ voice was louder than it needed to be, and so close to your ear that you winced a little. You kept walking, a massive arm looped around your shoulders while you half-carried the ungodly large body of Captain America and tried not to think about how good he smelled.

Why exactly you had been tasked with helping the very drunk Steve Rogers to his quarters after the Avengers Tower Christmas party was still a bit of a mystery to you. You’d seen Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark with their heads bent close, like they were conspiring about something, and the next thing you knew, Bruce Banner was asking you to help Steve get to bed.

The phrasing of the request had sent your heart skittering in your chest, even under the less-than-ideal circumstances of its reality. You’d had a crush on Steve Rogers since you’d met him as part of your SHIELD assignment to Avengers Tower, and you liked to think you’d kept it secret from everyone.

But, well, you did work with spies for a living, and you had a feeling Natasha and Tony’s conspiring had something to do with your predicament.

You’d tried to protest Bruce’s request. Sure, you were one of the taller female SHIELD agents, but you were by no means the strongest person on your team, especially when it included Brock Rumlow. But apparently everyone else had gone home or they were helping someone else, and you were the only one who could do it.

Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” had been playing from the sound system of the Avengers Tower lounge as you’d made your way over to where Steve lay sprawled across the entire length of a sofa. He was singing along to the Christmas song—loudly and off-key—and nerves and excitement had fluttered through your belly like snowflakes on a winter wind.

You’d shoved your emotions away and put on the professional mask you always wore around Steve, pasting a polite smile on your face as you leaned over him and told him, in a not unkind voice, that you were going to help him get to bed.

He’d given you a dreamy smile and did his best to help you lift his large body from the sofa while you’d ignored the way the snowflakes in your tummy had swooped at his happy expression and close proximity.

With one arm wrapped around Steve’s waist and the other holding onto his wrist so his arm wouldn’t fall from your shoulders, you lifted a leg and kicked the elevator call button with your foot, only remembering to check to make sure no one was around after you’d done so.

Oh well. If you’d flashed someone with the move, the most they’d see under the short skirt of your cocktail dress was the gun strapped to your thigh and the shapewear the tight, clingy garment had required you to wear. Thankfully, no one was around except the super-soldier draped across your shoulders, his head propped sleepily against yours.

“Of course it was spiked, captain,” you said, picking up the thread of the conversation he’d started. Your voice was patient and professional, if a little cold. “It was Stark’s Christmas party—he spiked all the egg nog with Asgardian liquor.”

The doors of the elevator slid open soundlessly and you huffed a sigh of relief as you dragged Steve in. You made sure he was propped up against the corner of the elevator, then stepped away to hit the button for his floor. As discreetly as you could, you wiped some sweat from your brow before turning back to Captain America.

The expression on Steve’s face drew you up short. He was…not frowning exactly. Was that a…pout?

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes poring carefully over Steve Rogers’ familiar features—the little pinched line between his brows, the dimmed sparkle of his blue eyes, the protrusion of his lush lower lip. You forced yourself not to linger on his mouth, even though it looked particularly inviting…

Yes, that was definitely a pout, you decided.

Before you could wonder about what you’d said to garner such a reaction from Steve, he was talking. Or, rather, muttering.

“I don’t like it when you call me captain,” he grumbled.

The elevator was nearing Steve’s floor so you moved closer to him again, ignoring the way your body warmed when you pressed into his side and lifted his arm over your shoulder. The fresh scent of him wrapped around you like the most delicious blanket, and you wanted more than anything to be able to breathe it in until it lived permanently in your lungs.

“What should I call you then?” you asked, mostly to distract yourself from your body’s reaction to Steve. He was drunk, and you needed to get yourself under control.

You tried to pull him out of the corner, but you didn’t have enough leverage and instead of budging the big super-soldier, you bounced back into him, landing against his hard chest with a surprised little “oomph.”

Before that moment, you’d known, in theory, that you were only a couple inches shorter than Steve Rogers. But it was easy to forget because he had such a large presence, and he could very easily toss you around that mats of the Avengers Tower gym with his super-strength.

However, in that moment you learned that the minimal height difference between you and Steve Rogers had a consequence you hadn’t considered. When you fell against his chest, your face was almost perfectly level with his—specifically, your mouth was almost perfectly level with his.

You could taste the Asgardian rum on Steve’s breath and the thought of closing the distance and licking it from his lips was far more tempting than it should’ve been.

“Steve,” he rumbled, his arm tightening around your shoulders and hauling you even closer. “You should call me Steve.”

Your soft curves molded to the hard planes of his body and your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced, trying to figure out what he was doing. His blue eyes were dark, even under the bright lights of the elevator, and they were fixed very firmly on your lips—but they were still glazed from all he’d had to drink.

“Steve,” you said, his name soft and tortured as it fell from your lips, your eyes dropping to his mouth.

You knew you couldn’t kiss Captain America while he was drunk, and you knew that if he tried to pull you any closer, you’d have to push him away. But you wanted so desperately to close the distance between your lips, the desire felt like it might incinerate you from the inside out.

The ding of the elevator arriving at Steve’s floor brought you back to reality and you jumped away from the super-soldier, shaking your head at yourself as you grabbed his arm and heaved his weight onto your shoulders. You dragged him out of the elevator on stumbling feet, your mind spinning with what you’d almost done—what Steve actually had done.

For all the time you’d crushed on Steve Rogers, he’d never shown any indication of reciprocating your feelings. He’d always been just as professional and aloof as you’d been, and you’d taken that to mean he didn’t have any interest in you outside of work. But you were beginning to rethink your assessment…

Thankfully, Steve remained quiet and well-behaved for the trip down the hall to his quarters, and getting him inside seemed a bit easier after your practice with the elevator. You half-carried him to his bed and it took only a little push to have him sit down on the soft mattress.

Somehow, the movement left you standing between Steve’s spread legs, his arm curled around your waist from where it had fallen off your shoulder. His face was close again—closer than it should’ve been as he looked up at you from where he sat.

“Pretty…” he murmured, the fingertips of his free hand reaching for you but hovering just a hair’s breadth away from touching you. “You’re so…pretty.”

Heat suffused your cheeks and you ducked your head. “Steve,” you whined softly, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, trying to extricate yourself from his hold. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said softly, your name falling sweetly from his lips. He brushed his thumb over your cheek so gently, it made your knees wobble.

You’d managed to get some distance from him, but the sound of your name made you stop. You looked at Steve, and his eyes were still slightly glazed from all the spiked egg nog he’d drank.

You huffed a laugh that was sad and humorless. Of course the only time Steve had shown any interest in you, he was drunk.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk and maybe I’ll believe you, Steve,” you said, a little forlornly, and pulled his hand away from your face, dropping it in his lap.

Stepping backward, you broke out of his hold, ignoring the way he was pouting again.

“Stay with me,” Steve said, his fingers catching the tips of yours as you turned away.

The desperation in his tone halted your retreat. When you looked at Steve again, his eyes were a little clearer, and his expression was pleading. You didn’t know if it was the best idea to crawl into bed with Captain America while he was drunk.

You were pretty sure he’d fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, so nothing would happen, but you worried about your heart. If you spent a whole night sleeping in Steve’s bed, breathing in Steve’s scent, it would be that much harder to pretend you didn’t have feelings for him. And you couldn’t seem to imagine he had feelings for you, despite what he’d said.

“Please,” Steve said, his voice cracking slightly. His face was washed in the dim light of the New York City skyline filtering in through the windows, and he looked like a work of art come to life, flawlessly gorgeous features and perfectly expressive eyes.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and were helpless to resist his request.

“OK,” you whispered, twining your fingers with his and giving his hand a small squeeze while you smiled shyly.

Steve beamed happily at you and then flopped back on the bed. A grin was still fixed on his face while he kicked off his shoes and fought to pull down the blankets so he could slide under them.

You bit back a laugh at his gleeful reaction, shaking your head as you went to the bathroom to clean off your makeup and strip out of your gun holster and shapewear. Thankfully, your dress was comfortable enough to sleep in for one night.

When you returned, you found Steve passed out under the covers still wearing all of his clothes. You took a moment to appreciate his handsome features, softened in sleep, and then slipped into bed beside him, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.

It took you a little while to fall asleep, but the quiet, steady snores coming from Steve helped lull you, and eventually you drifted off.

The soft wintry light of the morning sunrise was just beginning to peak over the Manhattan skyline when you roused, your body bathed in a nearly overwhelming heat that came from something pressed against your back and banded around your waist.

It took you a long, groggy moment to realize the source of that heat was Steve Rogers.

At some point in the night, he must’ve moved closer and wrapped himself around you because one of his arms was curled around your waist while his broad chest was pressed flush against your back. You were so close together, you could feel his steady heartbeat against your spine.

You must’ve shifted even to wake him because you heard the tenor of Steve’s breathing change. He buried his face in the back of your head and took a deep breath before letting out a contented sigh.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, the words muffled and barely discernable. His arm squeezed tighter around your waist, dragging you even further into the wondrously warm cage of his body.

The sound of you sucking in a sharp breath was loud in the silent bedroom and Steve suddenly tensed. Quick as a flash, he removed his arm from around your waist and shuffled back a few inches, giving you space.

Cold flooded in, even while you were still buried under the blankets, and you had to fight off a shiver. You missed his warmth, but you also needed to understand what was going on. You took a deep, steadying breath and then rolled over, looking at Steve warily.

He was propped up on one arm, his blond hair mussed from sleep and his cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. But his blue eyes were clear and curious, watching your reaction with interest.

“What did you call me?” you asked in a trembling, hesitant voice. It probably wasn’t the first question you should’ve asked, but you had to know if you’d heard him correctly, and if he’d known he was talking about you when he’d said it.

Steve must’ve recognized the uncertainty in your voice or on your face because his expression softened and he lifted his hand, his fingers tracing the air next to your cheek. He was deliberately not touching you, and you had the urge to close the distance and feel his warm contact.

“You said to tell you you’re pretty when I wasn’t drunk anymore,” he said, his voice low and rough with sleep. His eyes had been wandering over your features, like he was trying to memorize the way they looked in the wintry morning light, but his gaze caught yours before he went on. “Well, I’m not drunk and you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Steve.” His name was a soft, desperate sound, your heart racing into a gallop as you tried to process the fact that Steve Rogers thought you were pretty.

Before your mind had caught up, your hands were moving, reaching for Steve, eager to drag him closer. Your fingers were curling around the lapels of his dress shirt and you caught a glimpse of his crooked smile before you were both closing the distance between your bodies, his mouth slanting to yours for a kiss.

Heat and pleasure filled your body and soul, and you kissed Steve Rogers for the first time, your lips pressed together ungracefully in your excitement. After a few moments of blissful fumbling, you settled into a rhythm that was as delicious as it was delightful, made all the more breathtaking by the way you could feel Steve’s reverence for you in the way he held you.

It was a long time before you came up for air, and when you did, you laughed giddily when you saw the way Steve’s eyes were glazed over, a dreamy smile curling his lips, and you knew your expression matched his. He was drunk on kissing you, just as you were drunk on kissing him.

Steve dropped one last sweet kiss to your mouth and then he rolled you onto your side, tucking you into the warmth of his body while you both faced the windows, watching the sun rise over Manhattan. You were for a moment quiet as you enjoyed being with him, but something still bugged you.

“I still don’t understand why Bruce asked me to help you to bed,” you said, your fingers playing with Steve’s hand that was clasped in yours. “But I’m glad he did, since it led us to this.” You pressed a kiss to his palm, marveling at how even that part of him smelled fresh and wonderful.

At your comment, Steve made a rough sound in his throat, something halfway between a cough and a laugh. It piqued your curiosity and you turned your head, catching his eye over your shoulder.

“That might be my fault,” he admitted, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I may have confessed to Nat that I think you’re pretty—and she’s been trying to set me up for ages.”

Suddenly, everything from the night before clicked into place. Natasha and Tony’s conspiring, the way your SHIELD teammates were all otherwise occupied, the fact that Bruce—the least devious, and therefore, least suspicious of all the Avengers—had been the one to ask you to help Steve.

It was all a very elaborate setup, and you had to feel a little impressed with Natasha, even as you rolled your eyes because it didn’t need to be so complicated. She could’ve just asked if you were interested, and then set you two up on a normal date. Instead, she’d concocted an elaborate scheme, just to get you and Steve alone.

But you had to admit, it did work…

“You Avengers can never do anything the easy way, can you?” you teased, grinning at Steve over your shoulder. You reached back, fingers twining in his hair and pulling him close enough to brush a kiss to his lips.

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Steve murmured playfully against your mouth, kissing you more deeply before settling back down on the bed.

For the next little while, you watched the December sunrise with Steve Rogers, basking in the feeling of being in his arms while he idly hummed “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in between brushing delicious kisses to your neck.

You did have yourself a very merry Christmas indeed.

december daze challenge masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #captain america steve rogers #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans fluff #christmas fanfiction #december daze #witchywithwhiskeywork #tall reader

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soulofapatrick · 29 days ago

Text

The Not-So-Secret Secret - Liam Mairi x female reader

Summary: Liam overhears you fantasising about him

Words: 3.6K

Warnings: none

Notes: Who wouldn’t want a friendship like this with Ridoc, Sawyer and Violet??

Y/N's POV

Lunch in the Rider’s Quadrant is supposed to be a brief respite—a small break from the endless training, a moment of peace before we're thrust back into the chaos of Basgiath. But, with my friends around? Peace is a joke.

Ridoc lounges across from me, his smirk too damn infuriating as he stirs his stew with far too much amusement. Violet props her chin on her hand, watching me like I’m the star of her personal comedy show. Sawyer, the unwilling participant in all our chaos, sits next to me, sighing deeply into his cup like he already knows what’s coming.

And, of course, as always, I’m the topic of discussion.

I glance around the crowded mess hall, my eyes scanning for the familiar form of Liam. I swear, I can’t stop myself from looking for him, even though I know full well I’ll just end up making an idiot of myself when he catches me staring.

But before I can spot him, Ridoc speaks.

“You’re so obvious,” he drawls, his voice lazy but laced with far too much amusement. He taps his spoon against the edge of his bowl like he’s conducting some twisted rhythm. “It’s almost painful to watch.”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sawyer huffs a quiet laugh, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You definitely do.”

Violet grins, leaning forward with that knowing look. “You want us to spell it out? Fine. You stare at Liam like he’s a godsdamned meal, you turn into a stuttering mess when he talks to you, and—oh, wait—didn’t you walk into a pole last week because he smiled at you?”

I groan, slumping forward and burying my face in my hands. “Once. That happened once.”

Ridoc snickers, not missing a beat. “You apologised to the pole.”

Sawyer shakes his head, clearly done with both of them. “You’re aware that most people just… talk to their crushes, right? Instead of ogling them like they’re about to go extinct?”

I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “First of all, I do not ogle him—”

Ridoc snorts. “Oh, babe. You do.”

Violet hums thoughtfully, a smirk playing at her lips. “I mean, to be fair, I’d ogle him too.”

Ridoc grins, his shoulder leaning back casually. “Same.”

Sawyer sighs, running a hand over his face. “I hate both of you.”

Violet nudges my foot under the table, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re so far gone. What is it? The muscles? The whole ‘dangerous but soft-hearted protector’ thing?”

Ridoc elbows her, joining in. “Or is it the way he looks like he could pick you up and throw you onto a bed like you weigh nothing?”

I shoot them both a withering glare, but they’re not even fazed. “You both suck.”

Violet just laughs, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “I bet he’s great in bed.”

And that’s the moment that seals my fate. Without even thinking, I let out a dreamy sigh, my voice soft and full of wistful longing. “Oh, definitely.”

Sawyer’s fork hits his plate with a loud clatter, his eyes wide with shock. Ridoc and Violet exchange delighted glances, both of them far too entertained by this.

“Oh, please,” Ridoc urges, leaning forward with far too much enthusiasm. “Do go on.”

I should stop. I know I should. But the words just spill out, and I can’t seem to stop myself.

“Okay, just think about it,” I begin, my hands moving as I get more caught up in my own thoughts. “Liam’s always in control, right? He’s always calm, always watching out for everyone. But I bet when he finally lets go?” I exhale sharply. “Gods.”

Ridoc presses a hand to his heart, pretending to swoon. “This is already my favourite meal ever.”

Violet grins wider. “Go on.”

And so, I do.

“He’s so strong,” I continue, eyes wide as I gesture in excitement. “He could pin you down so easily. Hold you right where he wants you.” My voice softens, turning almost reverent. “And he would—he absolutely would. And he’s so thoughtful, you know? He’d pay attention. He’d know exactly what makes you lose control, and he’d use it against you.”

Sawyer makes a strangled noise behind me, while Ridoc actually fans himself, looking delighted.

“I bet he loves praise, too,” I murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “He’s got that heroic streak—he wants to protect, wants to be good at what he does. So imagine what he’d be like in bed if you just—” I trail my fingers along the table, my breath hitching slightly. “If you just moaned his name and told him how good he was—”

Ridoc wheezes, barely able to contain his laughter.

Violet’s eyes are wide, fighting back her own amusement.

Sawyer groans, rubbing his temples like he’s in physical pain.

And that’s when my stomach drops.

I freeze, my mind going completely blank. The atmosphere shifts, and Ridoc’s laughter turns manic while Violet looks far too entertained. Sawyer—traitor that he is—won’t even look at me, staring at his plate like he’s preparing for my inevitable demise.

I slowly turn my head.

And there he is.

Liam Mairi stands right behind me, arms crossed, hazel eyes dark with something unreadable. There’s a slight flush creeping up his neck, but his lips are quirked in the faintest, most infuriating smirk.

I can’t breathe

For what feels like an eternity, there’s nothing but silence. The entire room seems to freeze, and my heart races in my chest like it’s trying to escape. I’m convinced I’ve just combusted, my soul departing from my body as the blood rushes to my ears. I feel like I'm suffocating, trapped in the crushing weight of my own humiliation.

Then, in a voice that’s far too calm, too collected, Liam says, “That’s quite the imagination you’ve got there.”

And just like that, I forget how to exist. My body goes slack, my mind blanking out in the worst possible way. I can't even form a coherent thought. It’s like the universe has decided to prank me on an existential scale.

Ridoc is the first to lose it. He collapses against the table, gasping for breath as he bursts into full-blown, wheezing laughter. I can feel the heat of embarrassment spreading across my face, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Sawyer groans in disbelief, slumping in his seat as though he's praying for an escape. And Violet? Violet just watches me with gleaming eyes, too pleased with herself as she waits to see how I handle this nightmare.

And because Liam is a menace, he steps closer. He leans in just enough that his breath ghosts over my ear, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. His voice is low, teasing, and he murmurs, “You could’ve just asked.”

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing entirely, my entire world shrinking down to that one breath, that one infuriatingly calm whisper in my ear. And then—like he didn’t just completely obliterate my existence—he straightens up, grabs an apple from the table like it's the most normal thing in the world, and walks away without another word.

I’m frozen. I don’t even know how I’m still upright. Every single neutron in my brain is fried beyond repair. The weight of my own existence crashes down on me, and I don’t know whether I want to crawl into a hole and die or just evaporate into thin air.

The silence is unbearable. It stretches on like a taut string, a physical thing, as though everyone else in the room is waiting for me to fall apart. And then—

“Oh, fuck, that was beautiful,” Ridoc gasps, still wiping actual tears from his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath. He barely manages to hold himself up, clearly on the verge of total collapse from laughter.

Sawyer exhales deeply, like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. “I think I need a cold shower after that.”

Violet is grinning like a cat that got the cream, her eyes dancing with wicked glee. “So… are you going to ask?”

I groan, burying my face in my arms on the table. This is it. My life is officially over. I’m going to die here, surrounded by the most insufferable friends in existence, right in the middle of the Rider’s Quadrant.

Ridoc is practically howling with laughter now, unable to contain himself any longer. He slides off the bench, clutching his stomach as he wheezes. Violet beams like she just orchestrated the most spectacular thing in the world. Sawyer—poor, long-suffering Sawyer—just groans, his face buried in his hands like he cannot handle the absolute chaos any longer.

Meanwhile, I am completely frozen in place, still reeling from the fact that Liam Mairi—the man I’ve been not-so-secretly fantasising about—just heard everything. And then, then, he had the audacity to whisper in my ear like he hadn't just obliterated every ounce of dignity I’ve ever had.

I am never going to recover from this.

“Holy shit,” Ridoc gasps, still on the floor, clearly out of his mind with laughter. “That was—I am deceased. Do not revive me. Let me die like this.”

Violet sighs dreamily, clearly still basking in the aftermath of the moment. “Gods, that was hot. The way he just—” She mimics Liam’s smirk, deepens her voice mockingly, “‘You could’ve just asked.’” She shudders, as though she felt it too. “I felt that.”

I groan again, shoving her arm away. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I never intended to.”

Ridoc finally manages to haul himself back onto the bench, though he’s still wiping tears from his eyes. “You know,” he says between fits of laughter, nudging me with his elbow, “if you want, I can go find him. Tell him you’d like to—what was it?—moan his name and tell him how good he is?”

My soul leaves my body. “Ridoc!”

He grins, unbothered. “What? I’m just being a good friend.”

“You’re the worst friend.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Violet, still wearing that insufferable smirk, tilts her head with a knowing look. “You do realise you now have zero excuse not to make a move, right?”

I blink at her, not understanding at first. “I—what? No, I absolutely have an excuse. Multiple, actually.” I start counting them off on my fingers. “One: I’ve just suffered a public humiliation the likes of which I will never recover from. Two: I am pretty sure I’ve spontaneously developed a heart condition from that interaction alone. And three: I simply cannot face him after that.”

Sawyer groans, cutting me off with a loud exasperated sound. “For the love of all that is holy, just go after him.”

I blink, completely thrown off by his sudden urgency. “What?”

“I cannot handle any more of this,” he grumbles, dragging a hand down his face like he's dealing with something far beyond his understanding. “I love you, but I am too straight to be forced to think about another man’s dick this much.”

Ridoc cackles like a madman. “You poor, poor thing.”

Sawyer levels him with an exasperated look. “You are thriving in this chaos. I am suffering.” He gestures at me, then at Liam’s retreating figure. “And she’s just sitting here instead of chasing after him like a normal person.”

I sputter, feeling like the world is spinning around me. “Chase after him?!”

Violet hums thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I mean… it would be the logical next step.”

I shake my head, my voice low and shaky. “No, the logical next step is that I pretend this never happened and spend the rest of my life avoiding him—”

Sawyer cuts me off with a sharp, pained groan as he shoves me. “Go.”

“I—”

“Go.”

“I don’t—”

“If you do not get your ass up and go after him, I swear, I will personally tie you to a saddle and deliver you to him myself.”

Ridoc perks up, like he's suddenly interested. “Oh, that sounds fun.”

“Not helping!”

Violet crosses her arms, clearly not letting me off the hook. “Sawyer’s right. You have a literal invitation to make a move. Are you really going to sit here and let it go to waste?”

I groan, slumping further down onto the table. “You all suck so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the worst,” Ridoc says, rolling his eyes. “Now go get your man.”

I lift my head just enough to glare at them all. “If this ends in disaster, I’m blaming all of you.”

Violet shrugs nonchalantly. “Fair.”

Sawyer gestures toward the door, clearly done with the back and forth. “Please just go before I hear one more word about Liam Mairi’s dick.”

“Don’t forget to suck his-“

I throw a one-finger salute over my shoulder, my heart already in my throat. The last thing I need is Ridoc making more of a spectacle out of this than he already has. Still, I can hear him laughing behind me, Violet trying (and failing) to stifle her giggles, and Sawyer groaning in what I can only assume is pure agony.

I try to focus, pushing past the teasing and the anxiety building in my chest. I need to find Liam. I can’t even think about the fact that he—the person I’ve been obsessing over in the most embarrassing of ways—now knows exactly how I feel. I really need to see him again to figure out if what happened was as insane as I think it was.

As I jog away from the dining hall, the crowd thinning as I round a corner, I spot him just outside. His broad shoulders are visible before anything else—impossible to miss, especially when his presence seems to take up more space than necessary. He’s standing near the stone archway, arms crossed, with that familiar soft smile playing on his lips. I stop short, heart hammering in my chest, legs feeling like they’re made of lead as I stare at him.

What the hell am I even supposed to say?

Liam’s eyes flicker toward me, his smile widening slightly, as if he’d known I’d come running after him. He leans back slightly against the archway, his posture easy and relaxed, and I feel a flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with nerves.

“You know,” he says, his voice warm and inviting, “I didn’t expect you to come after me quite like this.”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Gods, help me. Instead, I shuffle on my feet, trying desperately to act cool, but I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. It’s almost like every ounce of confidence I’ve ever had is being sucked out of me by his gaze.

He pushes off the stone with one hand, his eyes soft but teasing as they meet mine. “I didn’t think I was that irresistible.”

I wince, my blush spreading even further. “You’re not—"

Liam’s eyebrow quirks up, his lips curving into that playful smile I know so well. “Oh, really? Because Ridoc sure seemed to think you were.”

And just like that, the air in my lungs feels like it’s been replaced with stone. Ridoc’s voice echoes in my mind: “Suck his dick, huh?”

Fucking Ridoc.

“I—” I stutter, trying to force words through the haze of panic, but they’re stuck somewhere in my throat. “I don’t—I wasn’t—”

Liam steps closer, slowly, his presence gentle but unmistakable. He reaches out, his hand brushing lightly against my arm, sending a surge of warmth through me. It’s soft, almost tender, like he’s being careful with me, like he’s waiting for something. But the intensity in his gaze tells me that he’s not the least bit uncertain.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost teasing, “I’ve been thinking about this. And I think we’re both tired of pretending we don’t want this.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. The heat between us is building, and my mind feels hazy. His eyes flicker down to my lips, and then back up, and I swear I see a flicker of something darker in his gaze.

Before I can process what he just said, his hand moves quickly—too quickly for me to react—and he pulls me closer, his fingers wrapping around my waist. My breath catches in my chest as he draws me in, his grip firm but gentle, like he’s in control, like he knows exactly what he wants.

Then, in a move so fast it almost takes my breath away, he spins us around, his body pressing me up against the nearest wall. My hands are pinned above my head, his strong grip keeping me in place. The world seems to stop as I feel the heat of his body against mine, his breath warm on my neck.

There’s no teasing this time. No playful smirk. His face is inches from mine, his expression serious, searching. “Is this what you imagined?” he asks, his voice breathless, a hint of vulnerability behind the intensity.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. The weight of his words hangs in the air between us, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him. This—this is different. This isn’t the playful Liam I know. This is something raw, something real.

The space between us crackles with heat, the air thick with anticipation, and when his lips finally crash against mine, it’s not soft or hesitant—it’s burning, desperate, and hungry. He moves with a primal need, as if he’s been waiting for this exact moment for far too long.

My breath hitches as his hands grip me, pulling me even closer, pressing my body flush against his. His lips are bruising, demanding, his kiss deep and relentless as if he wants to devour me whole. His tongue slides against mine, coaxing, urging, like he’s trying to erase every ounce of hesitation between us. I can’t think, can’t breathe—there’s nothing but him, nothing but the heat of his body and the intoxicating taste of his kiss.

I lose myself in it, my fingers tangling in his shirt as I tug him closer, needing more, deeper. His hand moves back to my wrist, pinning it above my head against the wall again, his grip tight but not painful, a reminder that he’s in control, that he’s holding me here, with him. His other hand slides down to my waist, tugging me even closer until there’s not an inch of space between us.

His lips shift, feverish, his kiss becoming more insistent, more demanding. His breath is ragged against my lips, each exhale a fire that only fuels the inferno building between us. The sensation of him, the taste of him, consumes me, and for a moment, I forget everything else—the world, the noise, the people around us.

Then, just when I think I can’t take it anymore, just when my mind is a haze of desire and need, he pulls away, his lips barely brushing mine as he pants against my face. His eyes meet mine, dark and heavy with unspoken questions.

“Is this what you imagined?” His voice is low, gravelly, the words thick with longing.

I can barely breathe, let alone form a coherent thought, but somehow, I manage to let out a shaky breath and nod, my hands trembling as I rest them on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart under my fingertips. I can still taste him on my lips, still feel the heat of him all around me. My head spins, but I can’t stop smiling. “Yeah,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “I think it is.”

Liam’s grin returns, wicked and slow, before he leans in again, his lips hovering just above mine. There’s something different in the way he kisses me this time—softer, more intimate, like he’s savouring every second, every breath.

But just as the world narrows down to nothing but him, just as his lips move with that same heated urgency, an unmistakable wolf-whistle pierces the air.

I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing as a familiar voice rings out through the silence, followed by another.

“Damn, Liam! Save some of that for later!” Ridoc’s voice calls out, his tone mocking but amused.

Sawyer groans in the background, dragging a cackling Ridoc and Violet behind him. The sound of their laughter cuts through the haze of heat between us, and before I can even react, Ridoc’s obnoxious whistle echoes again, followed by a loud, exaggerated "Woo!"

I pull back from Liam, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, my heart still racing from the kiss. But the moment has shattered, replaced with Ridoc’s teasing and Sawyer’s grumbling.

Liam chuckles softly, his breath still heavy, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes now. “I guess we’ll have to finish this later,” he murmurs, his voice full of promise.

I blink, disoriented, and turn my head to glare at Ridoc, my heart still pounding in my chest. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that?" I mutter, though a smile threatens to break through.

But I know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@caramelmacchiato07 @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @mariahoedt @marrass @honethatty12 @ladymacbabe

#Liam mairi #liam mairi x reader #Liam mairi x you #Liam mairi x y/n #Liam mairi fourth wing #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing Liam mairi #fourth wing Liam #Liam mairi fluff #Liam mairi smut #Liam mairi angst #Liam mairi one shot #Liam mairi imagine #fourth wing imagine

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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 months ago

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Royal Duty (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Apparently princesses aren't meant to fall in love with their lady's maids. If only someone had told you that. If only you weren't meant to be marrying someone else. If only you had a way out of it.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Possessiveness, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), marking, semi-public sex, teasing, jealousy

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly

“I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

You watched Agatha pacing in front of the fire she’d stoked not moments before. Lounging on your bed, having given up undressing when it became clear Agatha wasn’t going to be any help, you were watching her fume. She was stomping, teeth gritted, hair flying from where you’d let it down with deft fingers.

“Sweetheart,” you said, wondering if it would be possible to distract her before she really got going.

“It’s barbaric,” she growled, “don’t pretend as if you’re okay with this.”

“It’s not about being okay with it,” you said.

“And I’ve seen that so called princess. She’s puny. She can barely hold a sword. No one will ever find her intimidating,” she said, flinging the words out.

“Do we want her to be intimidating?” you mused, lying back to stare at the canopy above your bed.

“And you’re kidding yourself if you think her people will ever respect her. That advisor of hers is going to walk all over her until before you know it he holds all the power and you’re nothing but a puppet,” she continued.

“I’ll happily be a puppet if it’s your hand going up my skirt,” you said.

She paused, slow to spin towards you. You stretched your arms over your head, arching your spine, displaying yourself for her.

“Stop trying to distract me,” she said.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome to keep going.” Your fingers plucked at the strings of your dress, “but you’ll have to help me slip out of this while you do. I’d like to take my bath before the sun rises.”

“You’re playing dirty, pet,” she growled.

She advanced on you, blue eyes flashing. You grinned, raising your foot to press against her shoulder. Her fingers curled around your ankle, sliding it over her shoulder as she crawled towards you. Pushing the skirt up, her lips ghosted along the skin of your leg.

“It’s not dirty if you get what you want from it,” you sighed.

Her teeth nipped at the soft skin of your inner thigh. The noise you made only caused her to sink her teeth in deeper, most likely leaving a bruise. You loved when she got all possessive.

“If I was getting what I wanted, you wouldn’t be about to marry some idiot princess from the next kingdom over,” she said.

“Alright, you’re getting the second thing you want,” you laughed.

“Which would be?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

The heel of your foot pressed between her shoulder blades, guiding her towards where you wanted her most. The heat of her mouth on your most intimate parts was exactly what you were looking for. Fingers tangling in her hair, you kept her pressed against you. You’d always said she had one of the most talented tongues in the kingdom, and she was doing a good job at proving it.

You huffed when she pulled away, the throbbing between your legs demanding to be seen to. She dragged the back of her hand across her chin and climbed off the bed. You pushed up onto your elbows, staring at her as she stared down at you, eyes smouldering as she took in your sprawled form.

“Time for your bath, my lady,” she said.

You took her offered hand, letting her pull you off the bed. The fire in your veins made you unsteady on your feet, and as her nimble fingers unlaced you from your dress, taking the opportunity to ghost over your skin, you wondered if this was payback for not putting up more of a fuss about your upcoming nuptials. Your lips parted, watching her undress you, watching as her eyes darkened with each inch of bare skin she revealed.

She helped you into the tub behind the privacy screen. You settled in the warm water, leaning back against the side, head tipping back as you sighed. Her hands were gentle as they poured water over your shoulders. You closed your eyes, muscles relaxing under her care.

It was when they started wandering further down your body that you squinted them back open, watching her face. She wasn’t looking at you, focusing on your body. Hands stroked over your breasts, avoiding where you wanted her touch most. You arched towards her, offering yourself to her, urging her on.

She took her time, teasing you until you were begging her. Her hand slid down her body, finding the throbbing she’d left unsatisfied. Your head fell back, finding her shoulder as her finger began to circle your bundle of nerves. Her name was a soft sigh on your lips. Your legs fell open and she chuckled against your ear.

“Looks like you’re not getting any less dirty, my lady,” she murmured, “I suppose I’ll just have to try harder.”

Her thumb ground against your clit and your breath turned stuttering. You didn’t notice your door opening until you heard your mother’s voice ring out in your bedchamber.

“Darling, we have to discuss arrangements for tomorrow.”

You started, sitting up straighter, water sloshing over the side of the bath. Agatha grinned, her thumb pressing down. You grasped her wrist under the water, trying to tell her to stop. Her mouth attached itself to your throat, tongue running over your skin. Her thumb was making your thoughts turn hazy.

“Your fiancée will be arriving tomorrow morning.”

Agatha’s finger slid into you as her teeth sunk into you. You pressed your lips together, stifling the moan that wanted to break free. Your mother kept droning on about the preparation for your fiancée’s arrival and the wedding. In one week you’d be a blushing bride.

“And of course I have the seamstress coming to to fit you for your wedding dress,” your mother said.

Another finger joined the first and you couldn’t help your legs falling open again to Agatha. She was sucking at your skin, purposefully leaving a bruise to be found later. You were trying to keep your breathing under control. Her free hand tweaked your nipple, pinching, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.

“You will of course be retiring here for your wedding night,” she said.

Agatha’s palm ground against your bundle of nerves as her fingers curled within you. You gasped, making a small noise before you could stop yourself. It was hard to care when you felt on fire.

“Are you alright in there, darling?” your mother asked.

“Yes,” you gasped, “I’m fine.”

“Only fine?” Agatha murmured to quiet for your mother to hear, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “clearly I should start doing a better job.”

You whimpered, just the thought of it making your head spin. Her thrusts turned slow, each one drawn out, barely brushing your clit. You’d been close, worked up and on the edge. This was torture. Just enough to keep you panting, but not enough to be satisfying. That encapsulated Agatha perfectly; a tease.

“Now, darling, I’m afraid I have to tell you about the wedding night,” she said.

Agatha growled. Her fingers began to increase in pace, twisting and curling. The way her thumb was stroking over your clit had your hips meeting her thrust for thrust. The water was slopping over the edge of the tub, soaking the floor, but you couldn’t care. The heat was climbing in your veins, the coil tightening again.

“That’s really not necessary,” you gasped.

“No, no, I can’t let you be unprepared,” she said, “now, once you’ve retired for the night, it will be expected that you perform for your new wife.”

“Mother, I promise I know what’s expected of me,” you said before a soft moan passed your lips.

“And you’re rather good at meeting expectations,” Agatha whispered in your ear.

“You might know the theory but in practice it can be very different,” she said,

Agatha’s fingers kept hitting that spot within you that melted your tension away. Her mouth was back on your skin, sucking bruises, marking you as hers for the world to see. Her thumb was back to grinding against your clit. You were breathless, going mad, trying not to cum with your mother in the room. But Agatha was so skilled and you were losing control.

“I don’t want you to feel anxious,” she said, and you realised she was going to be there for the long haul.

“Mother, that is the last thing I’m anxious about,” you managed to say, breathless and desperate, “I promise.”

“Oh good, because if I’m being honest, this topic was making me rather uncomfortable,” she said, “now about your journey back to Eastview…”

“Can’t we discuss this tomorrow, Mother? I’m rather tired and would like to retire so I’m well rested for tomorrow,” you said.

“Of course, darling.”

You waited until you heard the door close again before a filthy moan passed over your lips. Agatha was laughing softly under her breath, fingers working you harder.

“Are you sure you don’t want your mother to explain how to please your wife?” she asked, “or do you think you’ve had enough practical experience?”

“Keep going and I’ll let you know if I need more hands on experience,” you replied.

When your orgasm crashed over you, you weren’t keeping quiet. Her name rang around your chambers, echoing as she brought you to the height of pleasure. Reaching up, you curled your hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her into a kiss. Her tongue was in your mouth, muffling your moans as you began to relax again.

Her hand retracted from between your legs, focusing on kissing you. Boneless and tired, you realised the water had cooled to a chilled temperature. Her lips brushed your temple.

“Shall we get you into bed?” she suggested.

“Are you going to be staying?” you asked, looking up into her sparkling eyes.

“Whatever you want, my lady,” she replied.

“Not quite whatever,” you muttered.

She helped you stand from the water, eyes sliding over your body with obvious appreciation. Holding out a towel, you let her pat you dry, enjoying the way it felt to be touched by her. You caught her face in both your hands, pulling her in for a lingering kiss.

She shucked her dress off, leaving her gloriously naked as she climbed into bed beside you. You curled up against her, cheek resting on her chest, arm thrown over her waist. Her fingers were stroking through your hair, untangling the knots left over from your long day.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” you said.

“I do too, pet,” she replied.

The next morning, sitting in the throne room, you were doing your best not to squirm as you thought about how Agatha had woken you up that morning. You’d been waiting longer than you thought you should have been. The contingency from Eastview was late. That was the only explanation. And while waiting, your mind wandered to the only woman who owned you body and soul.

You sighed, chin resting in your palm as you slouched in your throne. Your father’s advisor kept shooting worried glances at the door, his weight shifting from foot to foot. He snuck a look at your father who was looking more and more thunderous with every passing second.

A trumpet sounded, loud and jarring. You jerked up, straightening your spine, turning towards the door. They swung open, a large contingency of people entering. Leading the way, bright red hair and pale skin, Princess Wanda was looking furious. At her side, her brother strode, straight backed and regal looking in a way that you had never quite managed to capture. From the looks of things, neither had Wanda.

You were rushed through the introductions before you were thrown out to take a turn about the garden, chaperoned by Prince Pietro. Walking by Wanda’s side, neither one of you seemed capable of coming up with a conversation starter. The silence had settled over you and you weren’t sure how to break it. If it was any indication of how your future marriage would go, the years were going to be long.

You took a seat on a stone bench overlooking the lake. You’d spent plenty of summer days immersed in the cool water, hidden away from the windows of the castle. Long drawn out days with Agatha in the sun, being as lazy as possible.

“Your grounds are lovely,” Wanda said.

“Thank you,” you replied.

Silence reigned.

“It’s wonderful to see how much chemistry the two of you have,” Pietro said.

You shared an embarrassed glance with her before staring out at the water again.

Dinner wasn’t much better and by the time you went to bed you were certain you were in for the quietest marriage of all times. Luckily, crawling into bed beside Agatha, you could drown your despair in the way she gasped your mind and praised you. At the very least, you knew you were wonderful at one aspect of marriage.

The next day wasn’t much better. You went from fitting to fitting, getting ready for the big day with your mother, Agatha trailing along behind. You made meaningless decisions about the menu and the decorations and the guest list. None of it mattered to you. But the way Agatha’s eyes darkened when she saw you in your wedding dress did.

By the time dinner came around you were exhausted and desperate to soak in the tub again. Ideally with a naked Agatha in your lap. Instead, you were sitting beside Wanda, wondering if you might manage to string two sentences together. Only she was staring into her plate like it had personally offended her. You decided to leave it be.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. The two of you were chaperoned everywhere you went together. You made preparations. You stopped caring, just trying to get through the day until it was you and Agatha alone together at night. The comfort you drew from those hours you spent with her was immeasurable. You wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Except the night before the wedding you couldn’t sleep. Despite Agatha’s arm thrown over your waist and the hours you’d spent tiring yourself out, you couldn’t manage to quiet the thoughts in your head. As you wriggled, trying to find a comfortable position, Agatha grumbled in her sleep, arm tightening around you. You stilled, burying your nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. You’d miss this. The quiet moments with Agatha were the ones you felt safest.

Slipping out of the bed, you tucked the covers around her before throwing on a robe and sneaking out of your bedchamber. The castle was quiet, not quite early enough for the servants to have begun preparing for the day, but not so late they were still retiring for the night. You let your feet lead you through the halls. The air was cool against your skin and the shadows were dark. The quiet was all encompassing, a shroud around your shoulders as you wandered the halls.

The library doors were already open when you arrived. You slipped inside, keeping them from creaking. On the chaise longue, a book open in her lap but her gaze staring out the window, your future wife had already made herself at home. You paused, watching her for a moment.

“I see you’re just as excited for tomorrow as I am.”

She jumped, whipping around to look at you. You offered her a strained smile, moving further into the room. Sinking down into one of the armchairs, plush and comfortable, you tried to work out what to say to her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said eventually, her shoulders relaxing when you made no further move towards her.

“Dreading the morning?” you asked.

“Why would you assume that?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips together to hide your smile. She wasn’t asking with anger, more confusion. As if she couldn’t understand why this marriage may not be the wonderful event your parents had even framing it as.

“I suppose because I think this is the most we’ve spoken to each other all week,” you said.

She stared at you for a moment before she slumped back.

“You won’t tell your father, will you?” she asked.

“It’s not as if I’ve been showing you my best, either,” you replied, “and I don’t need another lecture about royal duty and what it means to serve the people.”

“I don’t want you to think it’s because of you,” she said.

“Oh, I take none of it personally,” you said, “it’s not like it’s the ideal situation for me, either. Although I’m sure you’re lovely.”

“It’s not?”

“Wanda, I don’t know you. I certainly don’t love you. And the person I do love I can’t marry,” you said.

“You love someone else?” she asked.

You blinked at her. Clearly the conversation was not about what you thought it was about. The love sick look of despair as she’d gazed out the window had seemed cut and dry. You’d thought you were in the same position here.

“Don’t you?” you asked in return.

“Well, yes, but I thought I was the only one,” she replied.

“Who is it for you?” you asked, leaning towards her.

“My personal guard, Sir Vision,” she said.

“He’s very tall,” you said, nodding along, “I can understand why you’d be drawn to him. I bet he’s strong too.”

“Very,” she said.

“I’m sure he swept you off your feet,” you sighed.

“He did,” she said.

“Why didn’t he offer you his hand in marriage?” you asked, “a knight and a princess? That’s an acceptable match.”

“He did,” she replied.

“You didn’t say no, did you?” you asked.

“Of course not,” she said, sounding offended at the implication.

“So you have two fiancees?” you asked, straightening up. You felt on the edge of working out the issue but you needed one more puzzle piece to fall into place.

“Of course not. What do you take me for?” she demanded, “I have a husband and a fiancee.”

You stared at her, your mouth falling open. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. The silence stretched and stretched. Hope bloomed in your chest and you felt breathless.

There it was, the final puzzle piece.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she said, surging forward.

Falling to her knees in front of you, she grasped both of your hands in a vice like grip. You tried to tug out of her hold but she tightened her hands. You made a small noise, your circulation being cut off from how tight her grip was.

“Unhand her.”

You weren’t expecting the doors to crash open or the loud voice ringing out in the library. Wanda fell back, landing on her butt as a half feral Agatha rushed at her. Rising, you caught her around the waist, intercepting her before her nails could drag over the skin of the princess’s face. She snarled over your shoulder at the other woman.

“Agatha, stop,” you said, forcing her back a step.

“I won’t. You might have accepted that you’re going to be married off like some object to help ease into a political alliance, but I haven’t,” she growled, “she will never make you as happy as I can.”

“I know,” you said.

“You keep your hands off her. She’s mine,” she snarled.

“Of course I am,” you said.

“You can’t have her. I’m putting my foot down. She can’t have you,” she told you, finally looking at you again.

“Sweetheart, I’m beginning to think you might be a bit jealous.” You pushed her wild hair back from her face.

“Damn right I am,” she said.

“Well then, it’s good I’ve just found out some information that might lead to all of us being very happy,” you said.

“You… what?” You loved whenever you could surprise her into speechlessness.

“Yes, Wanda and I were just sharing secrets and it turns out any marriage between her and I may not be legal,” you said.

“You’re related?” she asked, eyes widening as she stared at your face.

“Better. She’s married,” you replied.

“Oh.” Blue eyes swept over Wanda, considering her with interest for the first time, “we can work with that.”

“You’ll do no such thing. No one can know,” Wanda said, straightening up as she glared at your lover.

“Wanda,” you soothed, letting Agatha go to approach her on slow feet, aiming not to scare her, “surely you don’t want to do this. You know neither of us will be happy.”

“It’s not about being happy,” she said.

“But imagine if it could be. We both have the means to be happy. We just need to work out how to have it without starting a war,” you said, gently taking her hands.

“I don’t see how,” she said.

“I do. We let the king know she’s already hitched and then you don’t have to marry her,” Agatha said, flinging herself down into the chair you’d vacated to keep her from scratching out the other woman’s eyes out and starting a war all by herself.

“Or, we all just disappear into the night and no one knows any better,” you said.

“Oh, when I suggest it you couldn’t possibly do it, but when you suggest it suddenly it’s a great idea,” Agatha grumbled and you just knew she was crossing her arms and pouting.

“I’m just saying, with the four of us we have a better chance of surviving and not being found,” you said, “he comes with a big sword.”

“You’ve never complained about my sword,” she muttered.

“I have an idea…” Wanda said, gazing out the window again, “but it might make everyone very angry.”

The next day, you were beyond nervous. If only one thing went wrong, then it would all be over. You were quiet as you were dressed, and you kept catching Agatha’s eye in the mirror. Her grin was entirely too predatory and you were certain she was going to give the game away, but your mother didn’t seem to notice anything. Not even when she slipped away

Walking down the aisle, you stared at the vision in white at the end. Large dress and veil obscuring her face, your stomach clenched. You held your breath, coming to stand across from her, wishing you could see the face underneath.

You did your best to get through the vows. The weight of so many eyes was making you feel twitchy. You grasped the hands of your bride, the callouses scraping against the palm of your hands. It helped settle you as you repeated your vows, squeezing her hands.

You tensed as she began to recite her vows, certain this was going to be the moment it all fell apart. But then it had passed and the end of the ceremony was approaching. When the priest told you to kiss the bride you held your breath.

Throwing the veil back, Agatha grinned at you. Swooping in, she dipped you, kissing you deeply, and despite your anxiety, you melted against her. You always did. Something about her had ruined you for anyone else.

Straightening, you heard the outcry from your parents, from Wanda’s parents, from all the people surrounding the two families. Agatha’s arm tightened around your waist, hauling you against her body. You stared into your father’s thunderous face.

“Sorry, Father,” you said.

“This… this…” He didn’t have the words to express how angry he was.

“I love her,” you said.

“What have you done with my daughter?” King Maximoff demanded.

“Sent her off on her honeymoon with Sir Vision,” Agatha replied, grinning at him.

The roar of voices shouting was loud. You flinched back. Agatha held you tighter as you did your best not to look like you were trembling.

“This is our cue to exit,” she whispered, lips against your ear.

You nodded. She grabbed your hand and then you were flying back down the aisle, leaving the madness behind. Agatha was laughing and you couldn’t help but join in. In the distance, you saw two figures on horses, making their way towards the road to the next kingdom over where a very nice inn was awaiting their arrival.

“Come, wife,” Agatha said, waving to the couple, “time to consummate this marriage.”

When your family finally thought to check your bedchamber for you, it was far too late to annul the marriage.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness #agatha all along #aaa week

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bradleysass · 12 days ago

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St. Mungo's - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 696 - CW: James has schizophrenia

James wakes up to the sharp scent of antiseptic and the muffled sounds of the psych ward at St. Mungo’s. The walls are white, too white, and the light above him hums just a little too loudly, like it's trying to whisper secrets only he can hear. He shifts against the stiff sheets of his bed, gaze unfocused as he scans the room.

And there he is.

Regulus.

James swallows, blinking hard, willing the image away. He’s not real. He never is. But the boy doesn’t disappear, only steps closer with that same careful expression, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe like he’s trying not to startle a wild animal.

“Morning,” Regulus says, voice low, careful, as though he already knows the battle James is fighting in his own head.

James exhales sharply. “Not real.”

A flicker of something crosses Regulus’ face, but he doesn’t argue. He never does—not in the way James expects. Instead, he drags the visitor’s chair beside the bed and settles in, too steady, too sure, even as his hands tremble slightly when he rests them in his lap.

James turns his head toward the window, but the outside world is distorted, like he’s seeing it through a warped lens. He taps his fingers against his wrist. Four taps. A pause. Four taps. A pause. The rhythm keeps him grounded. He counts the taps, the pause, the taps again.

“You do that when you’re overwhelmed,” Regulus notes, like he’s making a casual observation rather than dissecting James' existence. “You’re trying to remind yourself what’s real.”

James’ jaw clenches. “That’s ironic, considering you aren’t.”

Regulus exhales, a quiet, measured thing. “I’m real, James.”

James laughs, but it sounds hollow even to him. “That’s what all the voices say.”

Across the room, Barty lets out a dramatic groan. “Can you two stop your tragic romance for five minutes? Some of us are trying to enjoy our psychotic break in peace.” He’s lounging on his own bed, flipping through a battered book with pages torn out, his fingers twitching like he’s considering setting it on fire just to watch the flames. Evan, seated cross-legged on the floor beside him, nudges Barty’s foot with his own.

“Leave them alone,” Evan murmurs, not looking up from where he’s absentmindedly tracing invisible patterns on the tile. “Not everyone is content in their madness like you.”

Barty grins, wolfish. “Madness is only a problem if you let it be.”

James tears his gaze away from them, forcing himself to look at Regulus again. The boy hasn’t moved, still watching him with the same patient intensity that makes James feel like he’s being dissected. But not in the way Healers do, with their prodding questions and potions that make his head feel stuffed with cotton. No, Regulus watches him like James is something important, something worth understanding.

James’ throat tightens. He doesn’t know how to handle that.

“If you’re real,” he rasps, “prove it.”

Regulus leans forward, slow and deliberate. “What would it take for you to believe me?”

James hesitates. There’s no right answer, no proof he could ever trust. The delusions are always so convincing. But still—

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he challenges. “Something the voices couldn’t make up.”

Regulus’ lips twitch, something like amusement, something like sadness. “Your first memory of me isn’t the first time we met.”

James stiffens. “What?”

“You think it was fifth year, in the Quidditch stands after a match. But we met before that.” Regulus tilts his head slightly. “When you were eight, you got lost in Diagon Alley. You were crying behind Flourish and Blotts, and I found you. You wouldn’t stop talking about how your mum was going to kill you for wandering off.”

James’ stomach twists. He—he doesn’t remember that. And yet—

A flicker of something. A shadow of a memory buried deep in the recesses of his mind. A small boy with grey eyes, quiet and serious, offering him a Chocolate Frog while they waited for someone to find him.

His breath catches. “How—”

“I’m real, James,” Regulus says again, softer this time. “You just have to let yourself believe it.”

#marauders #jeggyverse microfics #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #rosekiller #james potter #regulus black #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #microfic

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

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Come to Bed

Summary: based on this request - a text from Azriel was meant to go to you, but went to his entire family instead.

Author’s note: I loved this idea this was so fun and definitely very on brand for the inner circle tbh

Az: Come to bed :(

It was a short message. Azriel had been sick for two days now, and since meeting you, he can’t remember how he’d just go on during his sick days.

He used to go to work just fine while sick. He’d wear a mask and keep his distance, but he’d be able to go no problem.

But ever since you came into his life, now he was too spoiled when he was sick to go anywhere or do anything. You had insisted that your cuddles would heal him, along with the various soups you made him eat every day.

Honestly? It was a little awesome. If it weren’t for how shitty he felt, that is. You rubbed his back until he fell asleep, whenever he got up to shower you washed his sheets, and you brought him medicine every few hours. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was soaking in every moment of your attention.

But now you were downstairs, talking with Elain about something or another. You had told him what for before you left, but his feverish haze had made him forget. He woke up alone, having dozed off in your absence, and all he wanted was you to come back. He had just texted you to come back to bed when his door creak opens.

Azriel pops his head out of the nest he made to find Cassian crawling up his bed on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around Azriel, and spooning him over the covers.

Azriel coughs, “what are you doing here?”

“You asked for me to come to bed.”

Azriel’s head hurts trying to figure out what he means when his door opens once more to Rhysand strolling through the room, lying on Az’s other side.

“Ah, come on Azzy. It’s just like when we were younger,” Cassian tells him, his body heat helping with the chills taking over Azriel’s body.

Azriel sniffles, “we were like eight years old.”

“Well, Cassian hasn’t matured much since then,” Rhysand chimes in, staying on the bed but not too close to Az. He’ll provide some level of comfort with his presence, but he’ll be damned if he lets his brother get him sick.

“Why are you two here?” Azriel croaks, every word hurting his poor throat.

Rhys opens his phone to show him the family groupchat they had, the last message coming from Azriel saying, “Come to bed :(“

Azriel groans reading it, “I’m sure you could guess I sent it to the wrong person.”

Cassian chuckles, causing vibrations through Azriel’s back. He’s too weak to fight Cassian off of him, and the weight of him actually feels nice. Maybe Cassian would make a great weighted blanket after all.

“I never second guess any texts I receive. I assumed you missed me, it has been days since you’ve seen my glorious face.”

Cassian and Azriel continue bickering while Rhysand watches in amusement.

Mor comes in shortly after, bringing a warm cup of tea for both herself and Azriel, handing one mug to him while lounging across the foot of the bed. The tea soothes his throat, and he hates to admit it, but he does appreciate the presence of his family. He had been quarantined for days, trying to keep to his room as much as possible. He had grown quite accustomed to his big, invasive family. Your company was more than enough, but he did miss Cassian’s daily debriefs of his day.

Feyre comes in, taking residence next to Mor, as Cassian tells them all ridiculous versions of how he managed to destroy that building in the Summer Court. Each tale more ridiculous than the last, with Feyre even adding her own absurd version of events.

“I heard that a dragon flew in and Cassian fought it off with his bare hands and the only damage was that one building!”

Their laughter rings in Az’s ears as he closes his eyes, dozing, but not truly asleep.

You were shocked walking back to Az’s bedroom to find both of his brothers, Feyre, and Mor all lounging in bed with him. Azriel perks up at your figure in the doorway, somehow knowing you were there despite his resting state. His voice crackles from his sore throat, “save me?”

You walk in, squeezing yourself between Rhys and Azriel, and your boyfriend melts in your arms, falling asleep quickly as his family still chatters around you.

The next time Azriel wakes up, it’s dark outside, but he’s still cuddled to your chest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you tell him, setting your book down. He practically purrs at you running your hand through his hair.

“Sleep well?”

He presses his face back into your chest. “I would have slept better if they weren’t all annoying.”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head.

“Poor baby with a loving family,” you coo, and he huffs.

“They’re not loving, they’re annoying busybodies. Except Feyre. She hasn’t gotten that bad yet.”

You smile, untangling his hair with your fingers.

“They might be annoying busybodies, but they love you and you love them.”

He squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sick. I only have so much love to give and it’s all going towards you.”

You laugh, your hand moving down to stroke his back. He relaxes in your embrace, your fingers soothing his clammy skin.

“Okay, you can wait until you’re feeling better to love them again.”

“Deal,” he tells you, eyes growing heavy once more. “Just - don’t tell Cassian. He’ll get upset.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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stevieschrodinger · 7 months ago

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Part One Part Six

Steve wakes with a start, yelping and then immediately panicking when the bed covers feel constricting – it passes almost immediately when he realizes where he is and what woke him.

“Hi Eddie,” Steve sighs, blinking the rest of the way awake. He rubs at his crusty eyes, the bedside clock glowing three forty seven at him. Great. “What’s up buddy?”

“Stee,” Eddie says quietly, like he somehow understands the sanctity of the middle of the night, “ow. Dead later,” and then he makes a noise like a fly buzzing. Or a bee. It’s a fair attempt at a gentle ‘bzzzz’ing noise.

Steve sighs, “okay buddy lets go.”

Eddie turns at the top of the stairs and goes down them on his butt, which Steve’s pretty sure he would find amusing if he wasn’t half asleep and half annoyed.

The ground outside is cold enough that Steve hisses when his bare foot hits it, and he does a silly hopping jog to follow Eddie onto the lawn. It is a bee, and it’s moving sluggish and confused on the grass. The weathers getting colder, the time of year plus...probably it’s old?

Steve knows fuck all about bees, but he’s pretty sure individual bees don’t live for that long, and that maybe they sort of hibernate in the winter? Or something? Isn’t that what all of that honey is for?

Maybe they could bring it into the warm and give it some sugar water or something, Steve’s pretty sure he’s heard that from someone, somewhere along the line, “okay little bee guy, here we go.” Steve uses a finger to encourage the fuzzy bee onto his hand.

Steve stands; there’s very faint, and probably first of the year, patches of frost on Eddie’s tent. It hasn’t formed anywhere else, so it’s probably not that bad yet, but still, it’s chilly enough that Steve hops back across the lawn with some urgency.

In the kitchen, Steve says, “here Eddie, you take him,” and transfers the bee into Eddie’s cupped hands. He mixes a tiny mount of sugar water in the bottom of a glass, with no idea at all if it’ll help or not. The bee should probably be asleep, right? Steve can’t remember ever seeing a bee at night, so he assumes they go to bed like sensible bees.

Steve drops a tiny bit of the sugary mixture onto Eddie’s palm, right in front of the bee’s face; he drinks it, so Steve does it again. “Okay, I think we should all try and get some sleep. Eddie, you want to sleep on the couch?”

“Sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah,” Steve rubs his arms, making ‘brrrr’ing noises and generally pretending he’s in arctic conditions. He points to the door, “cold outside. Warm here.”

Eddie cocks his head, but seems to get it, so Steve takes the bee, setting it dead center on a couch cushion, and goes back to bed.

Steve wakes again at a much more normal time; blinking at the nine thirty now on his clock and thinking that is way, way better. He wonders vaguely if the bee lived, but he doubts it. Eddie will probably be sad about it; like the bird.

If that was even sadness; if Eddie even understands the concept of death. Steve has no way to know what Eddie thinks about it.

He heads downstairs; vaguely planning his day. He needs a coffee and some breakfast, then get ready; they probably need some groceries. Working opposite shifts to Robin really sucks; he hasn’t seen her once yet this week. They talk on the phone though, and she swears she's working on Keith. He should check when he goes in later for a day they both have off so they can hang out; if such a thing even exists.

Maybe the kids will come over for a movie night; Steve does now have unfettered access to all the newest releases...and is it sad that Steve’s lonely enough that he wants to invite over that bunch of mongrels? Maybe, he’s not going to think to much about it.

Steve sets the coffee going then heads into the lounge; Eddie’s curled up into a tight ball, his spine bent at a really fucking weird angle and his tail wrapped around himself; Steve knows then that he’s never seen Eddie sleep before, because he’s definitely never seen whatever the hell is happening here. It’s like a cat. Or a snake, maybe. The way he’s all curled up tight on himself; makes Steve’s back hurt just looking at him.

At the other end of the couch is the sad, still, little body of the bee. Steve stares at it, listening to the faint noise from the kitchen; the coffee pot gurgles a little.

Eddie blinks awake, unwrapping himself.

“Morning Eddie.”

“Morning Stee,” Eddie blinks sadly at the bee, and then, very gently, leans over and nudges it with a claw tip, “dead?”

“Yeah buddy, I’m sorry. But at least he was comfortable, right? Warm and...sugared up.”

Eddie hums noncommittally, watching as Steve scoops up the bee and following him into the kitchen. Steve very nearly puts the bee in the trash can, but veers off at the last moment. It feels a little wrong, throwing the little dude out; he also doesn’t know what Eddie would thinks and feels vaguely like Eddie might...judge him.

Steve heads outside and deposits him in a plant pot instead. When he comes back in, Eddie’s raiding the fridge, “pear inied. Grapes inied. Celery inied.”

Steve sighs, “I know buddy, I’m sorry. I’ll go and get more, okay?” Steve goes out to the freezer in the garage and comes back with a whole bag of frozen peas, and that seems to completely make up for it. He pours Eddie a bowl of peas, and himself a bowl of cereal, sticking a spoon in both. He downs the coffee so he doesn’t have to make two trips.

“Couch, TV?”

Eddie nods, following Steve. Eddie turns on the TV since Steve’s hands are full, and they sit side by side on the couch, Eddie very carefully using his spoon.

“Called?”

“It’s a toothbrush.”

Eddie watches from his seat on the floor next to Steve; he’s high enough to easily lean his elbows on the counter top.

“Why?”

And ‘called?’ Steve can handle all day long, but ‘why?’ has rapidly become a tricky thing to navigate.

“To clean.” Steve grins big as he can, clicking his teeth together, “teeth.”

“Teeth,” Eddie snaps back, then turns to the mirror, clicking his teeth at himself. “Eddidie clean teeth?”

Steve snorts a laugh, and Eddie looks at him, tilting his head but smiling too. Steve figures that a solid ninety five percent of the time, Eddie’s just happy to be involved.

“Okay buddy I think I have…” Steve rummages in the cupboard under the sink, “ah ha!”

“Ah ha!”

“Here you go,” Steve unwraps the new toothbrush, really, really fucking glad it’s a different color to his own. “Steve’s is blue, Eddie’s is purple.”

“Purple.”

“You got it buddy,” Steve wets the bristles of both, and then puts the tiniest little dab of toothpaste on Eddie’s before putting the proper amount on his own.

“Here you go.” Steve hands it over, and then Starts brushing his teeth. Eddie holds his own brush, watching Steve closely in the mirror before attempting it himself. His movements are slow and cautious, be he definitely gets the idea.

Steve rinses his brush under the water, leaving it running as Eddie does the same. Eddie has no trouble dropping his toothbrush into the cup next to Steve’s.

Eddie explores the bath next; all this shit must have been here when Eddie spent a night in the tub, but Steve was beaten to hell and still a little fucking high on Russian truth serum when all that was going on, so he honestly doesn’t really remember much of those first couple of days. “Called?”

“Shampoo. It’s to clean hair,” Steve tugs on his hair to demonstrate, “hair.”

“Eddidie clean hair?”

“Uh. I mean, if you want to?”

Eddie gets the cap open, squeezing the bottle carefully and sniffing the hole, “good.”

Steve’s current shampoo smells like apples, and Steve realizes what’s going to happen just as it’s too late to stop Eddie from sticking his tongue out.

Eddie smacks his lips together, looking truly disgusted, “fucking gross.”

“Hey! Language!” Steve takes the bottle from a grinning Eddie. He looks so pleased with himself Steve can’t stay mad, “damn kids,” he sighs. Eddie definitely got that one from Max, the little reprobate. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, in the tub.”

Eddie points, “in?”

“Yup.”

Eddie manages it, hoisting himself up and the flicking his tail and sliding his ass over the edge, “Eddidie in tub.”

“You got it buddy,” Steve takes the shower head down, pointing it away from Eddie while it warms up, then moving it a little onto his tail, “feel okay?”

“Warm,” Eddie reaches out to feel the water, “good.”

“Okay, here we go then.”

Eddie sits patiently, head tilted back as Steve wets his hair down and then adds the shampoo. Eddie’s hair is thick, like, insanely thick, and it takes a bit for Steve to work the lather in. The individual strands are thick too, coarse and a little wiry. The back of Eddie’s scalp feels strange too, like his skull had ridges on it; lines that all join together right at the back of Eddie’s head. You’d never be able to see it through his hair.

Steve goes through half a bottle of conditioner on him, but Eddie sits patiently through all of it, flicking his fingers through the water, even when Steve combs it through and catches on snags, Eddie’s doesn’t complain at all. He tilts his head back easily when Steve directs him to, “okay, nearly finished.”

Once they’re done, Eddie climbs out of the bath and onto a towel, sitting on the floor while Steve dries his hair; he gets the idea and dries his arms and torso himself. Steve’s so used to looking at him that he doesn’t find the lack of belly button and nipples at all odd any more. Just looks normal. Looks like Eddie.

“Okay buddy, just let me grab a shower, and then you can help me write a grocery list,” Eddie follows Steve into the bedroom, watching as Steve grabs clothes before heading for his shower. Steve clicks the lock on just in case; Eddie’s not exactly worked out stuff like boundaries or personal space yet.

When Steve comes out, Eddie’s waiting patiently, sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed, wearing his yellow sweater.

Part Eight

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #pre steddie #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie #creature eddie munson #creature

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blaydie · 6 months ago

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ᥫ᭡ A FOOL’S MISTAKE — “It’s not like him to be so careless.” -> Dan Heng x GN reader.

Word count: 1.2k

Contains: Dan Heng x GN reader, injured Dan Heng, fluff, comfort, affection, reassurance, cuddles, kissing, indirect confession.

Sprawled across your bed, Dan Heng lays there, scrunching his brows when your hand rubs over the wound he received while with the crew. He was sent back to the Astral Express, advised by Himeko to rest for the remainder of this trip. You’ve been here for a while and are accustomed to everyone’s mannerisms, but even an outsider could tell how frustrated he was for letting his guard down so easily. It’s not like him to be so careless.

“I swear I saw you. You were there.” He grunts, his fingers creasing your sheets with the force he grips them. The ointment coats the damaged skin, aiding repair and prevention of infection.

Whatever he experienced out there has led to a set of delusions. He keeps repeating the same words as though he is in denial about the truth.

“I’ve been here with Pom-Pom the entire time. I haven’t stepped foot off of the Express since our last mission.”

“I tried to—”

“Himeko said you ran straight into the enemies. Mr. Yang called you back, but you didn’t listen to him. Whatever hallucination you had wasn’t real, Dan. I’m okay. I never left the Express.” You speak softly, attempting to calm him from his frenzied state.

“…” His eyes fluttered, releasing his clutch on the sheets. His index finger trails down the length of your arm, searching you for any wounds.

“I’m fine, I swear to you. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something like that.”

“It knew how to get to me then.” He mutters, leaving his hand flat on top of yours. “I thought you were going to die.”

“It was a cruel trick. You know the others wouldn’t let that happen so easily though.”

“Hallucination or not, I wouldn’t let you go like that. I couldn’t just watch it happen.”

“In future, please don’t rush into a hoard of creatures for me without double-checking with the others. You’re worried about me dying, but you could’ve been seriously hurt if that fight wasn’t wrapped up quickly.”

“I’m a fool.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I’m the only one who was unable to resist their manipulation. That hallucination. Everyone must have seen a different one.”

“You were just worried for my safety. I’m sure if anyone else witnessed one of us in danger, they would have had a similar reaction. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

A shaky exhale left his lips while his fingers locked with yours. His thumb brushed over the bumps of your knuckles, grounding himself from the extensive shock his body underwent. He remembers that day when he swore he would never let anything harm you, how you will always be the first one he saves. There was never a moment you doubted him, fully aware of how willing he is to throw away his own life if it means you get to live.

“I got you a change of clothes when I heard you were hurt. I had to search through your closet, I hope you don’t mind.” You sheepishly push a fresh set of clothes towards him—the ones you usually catch him lounging in while working in the archives late at night.

“No, not at all. Thank you. I’m glad that you’re the first person I saw when I woke up.” Discarding his sombre expression, his lips twist up slightly. A subtle twinge of colour spreads across his face, scooting you aside while he sits up.

“Is the bandage too tight? I can loosen it a little if you’d like.” You glance at his bare torso, eyes lingering on his abdomen for longer than you’d like to admit. Something was alluring about him in your perspective, something that others may not see.

“It’s fine. I appreciate the effort you put in to take care of me.” He stands to his feet, turning his back to you as he changes his attire.

When fully covered, he returns to your bed. Propping a pillow against the headboard, he pulls a blanket over himself, seemingly getting himself comfortable. It appears that he plans to stay here for the remainder of the evening, something he knows you won’t protest. Pulling you into his side, your head collides with his shoulder, a shared spell of laughter illuminating the darkness that was once cast in your room.

“I need to tell the group chat you’re okay. They were worried sick about you when you fell unconscious.” You reach for your phone, snapping a picture of the very alive Dan Heng beside you.

Within a few seconds, multiple notifications flood your screen, mainly March and Pom-Pom, the usual dramatics when something like this occurs. Himeko sends her best wishes while Mr. Yang writes a small lecture. He doesn’t mean any harm by what he said, it’s the instinct of being a parent—he will always look out for you all, whether you like it or not.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Dan speaks up when you turn off your phone, capturing your attention.

“Don’t be. All I ask is that you don’t die without me.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Weaving his arms around you, he held you close in an embrace, the only sound filling the room being your mingled breaths completely in sync. It’s no mistake that out of everyone on the Express, Dan’s strongest connection is with you. You’re the one he turns to when he feels no one else would understand his woes, you accepted him and his stoic ways into your life without trying to change him. For that, he’s grateful. You understand that not every issue can be fixed with a smile, a snack, or a nap.

Shifting his hand from the small of your back, he pushes your chin up. You grin at him, eyes crinkling as he stares back at you. The outline of your lips is a shape he learned how to trace, now able to reconstruct it using his memory when not presented in front of him.

“I’m glad you joined the Express. Travelling through the stars together is romantic when you view it the right way. I wouldn’t want to experience that with anybody else.”

Sealing his sweet speech, he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Allowing him more space, you open your mouth slightly. Dan adored every inch of you, being granted permission to be so affectionate was merely a blessing. The heat radiating from his palms made your skin clammy, a stark contrast to his usual cold hands.

Pulling away, your saliva remains at the corner of his mouth while he beams at you, his eyes half-lidded. His chest heaves, your lips more pronounced from the puffiness. The look in his eyes speaks words that he is not yet ready to admit, and you understand them all. When the time comes, he’ll tell you properly in the way he has planned.

Developing an attraction to you felt like a mistake at first, he didn’t want to let you down and paint himself to be someone he’s not. However, you proved to him that you can handle all of his issues and emotions. Every flaw he possesses you manage to see the beauty—memories which used to haunt him don’t dare reside in his mind when you’re nearby. You ease the pain placed upon him.

#💌 — writing pieces #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #fanfic #oneshot

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taegimood · 1 year ago

Note

How would the boys react to you wearing their boxers and shirts??

-lias 💪 anon

hi nonnie!! i was just thinking abt you earlier hehe

BELIEVE ME when i say that this thought is my roman empire.. txt has my size kink going ABSOLUTELY CRAZY as a 5’2 / 157cm gorl myself. i can’t even imagine them standing around me. like soobin is basically an entire foot taller than me🧍🏻‍♀️good gracious just toss me around and manhandle me already

ANYWAY

──────────────────────

yeonjun would get such an ego boost from it.. his pretty little girl walking around in HIS shirt, coming out after a shower wearing HIS boxers.. like yeah, that’s right, she’s all mine <3 loves to tease you abt it by giving little tugs to the fabric, grinning at your little protests and harmless smacks to his arm. he just can’t help it.. guiding you in a kiss to the bedroom, fucking you from behind with the shirt still on, bunched up in his hand so he can see your pretty ass as he uses his grip on the fabric to pull you back and forth on his cock 😌 “you just love showing me off, hm?”

soobin would go absolutely crazy. a blushing mess the first time you stay over and come out wearing his clothes. his eyes would roam all over you, the way your little body drowns in his shirt instantly sparking something primal inside him as his bulge hardens in his sweatpants — he’s embarrassed at how easily you’ve got him turned on, but ig not embarrassed enough as he pulls you towards him by the waist from where he’s sitting on the bed - eyes and hands exploring you as he whispers “wanna keep it on for me, baby?” and proceeds to have you ride him with his hands gripping all up under your (his) shirt <3

beomgyu teases you for how silly you look at first (definitely makes an oompa loompa joke or two) but secretly his heart is pounding at the sight of his clothes on you. lounging on the couch together with your legs laid over his lap.. his boxers are obviously big on you, so it’s not his fault that he can see a peek of your panties past the leg hole every time you shift around. you catch him shamelessly staring when you notice how he’d stopped tracing his fingers mindlessly on your leg. eyes laser-focused on your lower half, he doesn’t even try to hide it.. gets you on his lap, the shirt gone so he can suck hickies across your tits as he has you ride his thigh with the boxers still on 🤭 “can’t stop until you cum in them, baby”

taehyun’s expression almost has you apologizing for changing into his clothes without asking, from the way he’s staring wordlessly with a completely level expression. is he mad at me?? does he not want me touching his stuff?? you’re already apologizing and heading back to his room to change again when suddenly a tug on your wrist has you turning into his chest and he’s lifting you up into his arms before you can blink, carrying you to his room.. “you wanna be a tease, today, hm?” as he rubs your pussy relentlessly through the boxers, only letting you cum that way before ripping them off of you along with the shirt to make you cum again on his cock. maybe even stuffs the boxers in your mouth as a gag 🫣

kai wouldn’t know what hit him. he was only trying to give you more comfy clothes that would be better for gaming in, but he didn’t realize how badly he’d immediately want to take them off of you. he’s stuttering a bit as you ask him what’s wrong, did he change his mind? does he want them back? shaking his head profusely as your game night is quickly forgotten when he’s telling you breathlessly that “i just need to taste you, baby.” a whole new kink is unlocked for him that night as he has you ride his face for ages, his shirt hiked up your chest so your pretty tits are on full display for him, your cute moans and gasps just spurring him on even further~

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reminiscingtonight · 8 months ago

Note

Vending machine, Jammed, Disbelief - Leah Williamson

Late Night Adventure (Leah Williamson x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s quiet in the hallways as you try to make your way to the lounge. It’s quite late, and you know if any of the staff catch you you’ll be in big trouble. But all you wanted was some hot water for a lovely cup of tea. And given that the electric kettle in your room was broken…

The last thing you expected was to stumble across a very familiar looking blonde staring quite crossly at a vending machine on your journey for tea.

Leah hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, angrily muttering under her breath as she kicks at the box in outrage.

“Woah there, careful with that golden foot of yours.”

Blue eyes look up frantically, relaxing slightly when she realizes it’s you. “What are you doing out of bed so late?”

You raise an eyebrow, not at all fazed by the hostility in Leah’s voice. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Your captain sighs, dejectedly thumping her head against the glass of the vending machine. You have to muffle your laughter at the whine Leah lets out. “It ate my five and won’t give it back.”

“Do you mind if I…” you trail off just as Leah huffs and steps back, not really expecting to get her money back or her snack, but not seeing much harm in letting you take a shot at it either.

Humming, you peer through the glass. Sure enough, Leah’s packet of crisps is sat diagonally, resting between its slot and the glass. Your want for tea is all but forgotten, the task at hand seeming much more intriguing than your inability to fall asleep.

Leah tsks when your fingers trail to the buttons, randomly pressing at the coin return in hopes that it might magically treat you better than the blonde.

“I already did that,” she sighs, frowning when you seem to ignore her.

You muck around for a little longer after that, fiddling with buttons, randomly seeing if your hand could fit through the chute. Everything you do is met with an equally as loud breath of impatience by your captain. Despite being a calm head on the pitch, it’s obvious that her patience didn’t translate well off the field.

In the end, all it takes is a well placed whack by the heel of your palm dead center of the glass.

Leah stares in disbelief as a whirring sound rings out, her packet of crisps dropping down the chute as distinct clinks of coins could be heard.

You fish out her snack and money like it’s nothing, smugly grinning her way. “Feel like I should take a finder’s fee, but I guess I’ll be generous this time.”

Leah rolls her eyes when you drop her things into her hands. “Gloating takes away from the actual feat, you know.”

“What? A hero can’t revel in their success?”

“‘Hero’ is pushing it.”

“Your white knight in shining armor?”

She doesn’t even bother with a response.

“The Spiderman to your Mary Jane?”

Leah’s eye twitches.

“The Superman to your Lois Lane?”

“You do realize the more you talk, the less attractive you become?”

Your grin widens. “So you think I’m attractive.”

Leah sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning on her heels. “Goodnight.”

“Hey! Where’s my thank you kiss?”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #3wp #Ace writes

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jyoongim · 1 year ago

Note

I loooooved your alastor x reader morning after post! Could you do another soft smut? Like passionate *love making* after a night out sort of thing?

Note: bit more of a fluffy smut.

Themes: established relationship, drinking, kissing, self-masturabtion, soft smut, very lovely dovey

The sound of slow sensual jazz played in the background as you swayed against Alastor. The drinks you had drunk filled your head with a buzzing as he twirled you around. He dipped you, bringing you back up and you wrapped your arms around him, head against his chest.

The two of you swayed on the dance floor, enjoying the ambiance of the lounge.

Oh how you loved nights like this. It was rare that the two of you had time to yourselves. The night had been filled with flirty banter, jokes, drinks, and dancing.

What a time!

You sighed happily, giggling as Alastor pressed soft kisses to your glossy lips. “How bout a nightcap ma cherie?” he suggested, voice low and soft.

You waved to Mimzy, who sent you a wink, as the two of you left the lounge.

The hotel was dark and quiet, everyone having gone to bed.

You hummed as you kicked your heels off and began taking your jewelry off. You tousled your curls, happy to have the pins out and hair finally down.

Alastor had removed his coat and bow tie, unbuttoned his dress shirt as he took a seat at the little table that was in your shared room. A bottle of whiskey appeared along with two glasses.

As you approached him, he pulled you into his lap, pouring the two of you a drink as some soft tunes played on his radio.

”Oh Alastor, I truly had a good time. Its been a while since we were able to cut a rug like that” you said sipping your drink as he curled an arm around your waist.

He hummed, downing his drink “I would have to agree my dear. Truly was an amazing night. You still got it.”

The warmth Alastor gave off and liquor had you purring as you relaxed into him.

You drank until half the bottle was empty.

Your body buzzed as you listened to him talk about the night.

Your head nuzzled into his shoulder, sighing content.

Alastor ran his nose along the column of your neck, peppering kisses from your shoulder to ear, sharp teeth softly nipping at the lobe, tugging at it.

”Alastor…” you turned in his lap, legs spreading on either side of him, your dress bunching at your hips. Big hands gripped your hips as you looped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a sultry kiss.

Your tongues danced as you slowly began to grind against him.

You mewled as you felt hands trail up your thighs and paw at your stockings.

You opted to trail kisses along his neck as his hips pressed up into yours.

Alastor purred “Let’s get a bit more comfortable shall we?”

Slipping from his lap, you began to undress. You shimmied out your dress, giggling as Alastor’s hands pulled your garter and stockings, kissing your thighs and ankles as your legs slipped out of the sheer material.

You tugged him by the pant loops to the bed as he shrugged his shirt off.

Your hands greedily roamed his exposed skin as he unbuckled his pants.

Your lips found his, pulling him down on top of you as you laid on the bed.

Your legs settled around his waist as y’all engaged in a passionate make out session.

You panted in his mouth as you felt his thumb rub on your clothed mound. Your thin panties doing little to hide your growing wetness.

”aah Alastor please” you begged as he pressed tight circles on your puffy clit.

”such a pretty thing you are” he gruffly said, pulling your panties down your thighs.

Your cheeks were red as he sat back on his haunches to take you in.

Disheveled, cheeks red from drinking, lips swollen from kissing, chest rising as you took deep breaths.

You truly were a beauty.

“What do my pretty baby want?” He asked, head tilting as a playful smile stretched across his face at your pout.

You slowly bumped your foot against his crotch, softly nudging the heavy weight that was restrained.

”You…Alastor i want you” you whined, hoping he wouldn’t tease you.

He slithered to your side, one hand cradling your head to look at him, the other palming a tit.

He pressed a kiss to the chub of your hot cheek, purring into your ear “Then show me how much you want me”

Your hand slowly trailed down your body, finding your hot heat.

Your eyes closed as your fingers coated into contact with your throbbing clit.

A gentle pinch had you open your eyes to see red irises staring at you intensely “Ah Ah keep those eyes on me mon cheri”

A whimper left your throat as you softly rubbed at your clit, electric shocks running through you.

You plunged two fingers into you, coating them in your slick.

You switched between fingering yourself and rubbing at your clit.Your back arched into Alastor, who began rolling a nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging as you moaned.

”ooohh fuck please please” your hips jerked as you felt your orgasm bubbling.

You never had Alastor watch you as you brought yourself to orgasm.

A tug of your nipple as you worked your clit sent you over the edge.

Your throaty moan was swallowed as Alastor clashed his lips to yours. Hand that was toying with your nipple quickly at your clit, flicking away as you grinded your hips to his fingers, riding out your release.

You panted as he chuckled at you, body spent and relaxing after your orgasm eased.

His cock was now tight in his pants as he watch you come down from your blissful high.

”That’s a good girl” he kissed your forehead as he situated himself above you. Pulling his dick free, he slide it along your sticky slit, coating him.

“Al…” you trailed off looking at him with lidded eyes as he slide inside you.

He let out a soft grunt as he eased inside you, burying his cock til his balls were flushed against your ass.

If he thought you were beautiful coming apart, you thought alastor looked his best when he was displaying more tender emotions.

His body lowered onto yours, covering your small frame as he softly thrusted into you.

”I love you” you said breathlessly as he rocked his hips into yours.

Usually sex with Alastor was rough, which you couldn’t complain about, but there was something about him being so soft that always made the activity a lot more enjoyable than usual.

He was extra attentive, muttering sweet nothings as he made you cry out in ecstasy.

Alastor smiled at your conviction and curled a finger under your chin to pull you into a soft kiss.

Your ankles interlocked around his hips as you moaned into the kiss. He tasted like the whiskey you had been drinking. Your claws dug into his shoulders as he whispered against your lips

“Let me show you my love” he thrusted up into you as he sucked at your neck.

The room was filled with your soft moans and his heavy grunts as you spent the night reassuring each other of your love.

Alastor mindlessly rubbed your back as you snored into his chest. He pressed a kiss to your hair as he watched you snuggle into him, a content smile on your face.

Oh how he loved you. He might not always say it but he always knew how to show you that his love was always there.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #alastor #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #Alastor soft smut #Fluffy smut

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forsakenmb · 7 months ago

Text

Best Friend's Brother

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x Reader

Word Count - 4.3k

Warnings - Dark! Rafe Cameron, Possessive!Rafe?, non-con/dub-con, violence, degradation, alcohol use, manhandling, unprotected sex, dacryphilia

“You should come over tonight” Sarah said through the call, “My dad, Rose, and Wheezie are out for the weekend, we could break into his liquor cabinet” she chimed.

“What about your brother?” you asked. Finals had just concluded, and you didn't need his shit today or any day for that matter..

Rafe Cameron, the Kook King, the biggest douchebag you've ever known. He hates Sarah, so he hates you too. He's called you many names ranging from: an attention-seeking whore, pogue trash, and the ‘Virgin-Mary’.

You've known Rafe and Sarah since you were thirteen, and he wasn't exactly nice to you back then but certainly not now. Since you turned fifteen your friendship with Sarah infuriated him, according to him you were just ‘trash’ that didn't deserve to be in the presence of Kooks.

“Forget about him” she groaned, she knows how much of an ass he is. “We can hang out in my room, watch movies, and get drunk”

Refusal on the tip of your tongue, she pleaded with you again, “Please!” she begged.

“Alright, alright” your relented, hesitation still stuck inside of you. A wary feeling deep in you peeking its ugly head out.

“Okay! See you later” she squealed happily, the call ending soon after.

By the time you were getting into your vehicle the sun was setting, casting hues of orange over the Island.

The drive was quiet and peaceful, the colorful sky now replaced with pitch-blackness as you pulled into the driveway of Tannyhill.

As you approached the front door you were going to walk in like you've always done. Whilst reaching for the handle, the door suddenly jerked open. You expected to see Sarah if anything, not Rafe.

He was standing in the doorway, moving through the threshold wasn't an option. His taller frame blocked you from entering the residence.

“Ah, if it isn't the pogue herself” he sneered, a wide smirk plastered on his face.

“Can you move out of my fucking way.” you snapped, your brows furrowed together in frustration.

“Don't get your panties in a twist” The oldest Cameron jeered, rolling his eyes. You wondered if he rolled them any farther, he could see his eye sockets. He moved aside just enough so you could squeeze through.

You glared daggers at him, but all he did was tap his foot impatiently on the floor.

Giving up, you wedged yourself past him; your front pressed wholly against his and you could've sworn he pressed his hips further into you.

Walking farther into the house towards the staircase, you felt his eyes boring into you. But when you glanced over to him it wasn't a glare, but something dark and depraved. Something you weren't too keen on discovering.

You practically sprinted up the stairs to Sarah's room, your heart racing in your chest. Why were you so scared? It was just a look, but it elicited such fear from you.

“What took you so long?” she asked, lounging lazily across her bed as you entered her room.

“Your brother” was all you said before plopping down next to her. The room was silent for a moment before Sarah sighed and sat up.

“He's an asshole” she said blandly, setting her phone down on the bed. “I'm going to grab the alcohol” she stated, getting up from her spot and walking towards the door. “You pick the movie” she told you before walking out of the room.

When Sarah returned she held two bottles; one held a bronze liquid, which looked like whiskey. The other held a clear drink, which was either Vodka or Tequila.

“What movie are we watching?” She questioned, moving towards the bed to lay next to you.

“Scream?” you ask, looking through your options. It didn't seem likely you'd find anything better at this point.

“That's fine” Sarah said, handing you the bottle of clear liquid. She settled down as you started the movie.

Taking a look at the bottle in your hand you saw that it was in fact Vodka. You screwed the cap open and took a swig from it. The burning taste of the liquor was strong, it left you viscerally cringing, a small cough rising through your throat.

Sarah giggled at you, then she too opened the top on the bottle she was holding and took a drink from it.

The night progressed smoothly, drunken giggles filled the room, the movie long forgotten and replaced by talking and chatter.

“I'm tired” Sarah drunkenly groaned, plowing backwards onto her pillows.

“Me too” you said, words slurring together. “But I'm so thirsty”

“Then go get a drink” she said, eyes already starting to drift shut, a small yawn slipping past her lips.

“Okayyy, I'll be back” you groaned, stumbling lightly as you stood. You made your way out of Sarah's room and down the hall to the staircase. Gripping the railing you were about to start the descent when a pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you backwards.

You didn't need to turn around to know it was Rafe Cameron. “This isn't funny Rafe” you hissed through gritted teeth, squirming in his grasp to get him to relinquish his hold.

It was quiet for a moment, his arms around your torso still firm even as you continued trying to worm away from the taller man. His breath fanned across the shell of your ear, then a deep chuckle vibrated through your skull, “I'm not trying to be funny ”.

“Let me go!” You growled, your voice rising in volume, as you began to thrash around. Before you could say anything else, Rafe moved to pull a hand over your mouth, his other arm still wrapped bruisingly tight around you, pressing you deeper into his body. Like a boa constrictor engulfing its prey.

Fear gripped you, your heart pounding in your chest. Struggling harder than before, you began to try and kick, hit, and bite, all futile and in vain.

The hand over your mouth slithered its way down to the column of your throat, gripping it tightly and cutting off any airflow in its wake. The shock alone made you go as stiff as stone, you could hear your heart in your ears and tears started to crowd your waterline.

“R..afe” you choked up. You couldn't breathe at all, it was getting harder to think as the seconds passed by. Your hands weakly reached up to scratch at the limb that was crushing your windpipe, but with the lack-of airflow the only thing you could manage to do was dig your nails into his wrist.

Black dots started to adorn your vision, your mind consumed in a fogginess you couldn't escape, just like you couldn't escape Rafe. As you were about to lose consciousness the iron grip on your throat loosened, you let in a sharp breath, your lungs not getting enough of the oxygen you were consuming.

The hand still holding your throat snaked away and roughly grabbed the back of your neck, the one around your torso gone. “Now fucking walk.” he hissed into your ear through gritted teeth.

A numbing fear spreading throughout your body, your legs wouldn't move an inch. Behind you a scoff could be heard before you were shoved forward roughly, your feet barely catching you before you hit the ground. Your legs shaking violently as you began to slowly move forward to where he was pushing you.

Rafe Cameron's a lot of things, a drug abuser, a belligerent person, but never in your life did you think he'd do something like this.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when your walking was halted, the hand on your nape gripping tighter. You were in front of his bedroom door, you'd never been in there before, he might have killed you if you went in there, but he might also kill you now.

His free hand opened the door, the other shoving you through it. This time you couldn't catch yourself before you collided with the floor. Although you felt sober, the alcohol still in your system made getting up hard. Tears began to flow down your face, your whimpers and sobs the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

“Get up” he said, anger and hate dripping from his deep baritone voice.

“I -I” was all you could get out before more sobs racked through your body, hyperventilating from the situation you were in. He was standing in front of the door, looking down at you like you were the bane of his existence.

“Don't make me ask again” he said, his voice rising just enough to make you flinch. But still you sat on the floor, crying harder than before.

Heavy footsteps began to approach you, before you could look up to see him towering over you a hand knotted itself into your hair, yanking you upwards onto your feet, a loud cry escaping your lips. “You just love being fucking difficult, don't ya?” He jeered, yanking your head back by the roots of your hair.

Gripping at the short sleeve shirt he wore, you cried out, “N-No, I'm sorry Rafe, I'm sorry” you were an inconsolable mess, you didn't even know what you were apologizing for.

“No you're not” he said pulling your face closer to his, “Not yet”

Closing your eyes as more tears bled down your face; fear bubbled inside of you, nausea swirling in the pit of your stomach.

His other hand grabbed at your chin, “Look at me” he sneered. Even though it was asked like you had an option, you knew you didn't.

You peeled your tear soaked eyes open, and looked up at him. His face was deadly, he looked murderous. Ready to kill you if breathed the wrong way.

“She learns” he sneered, a wide mirthful smile spread across his face. “Now, since you like to walk around this island in these skimpy shorts..” he said, the hand in your hair moving quickly to grope your rear through your biker shorts.

“Rafe… stop” you sobbed, the feeling of his large hand gripping your behind causing you to shiver in his hold, the nausea in your stomach worsening.

“You don't get to tell me what to do” he said, the faux smile now replaced with a look of anger again. He started using the hand on your chin to back you into a wall, pressing your back flat against it. “Here's how things are going to go, you're going to shut up, and stand there, got it?” he said, tilting your head back as far as it would go.

More tears came rushing to your eyes, your bottom lip trembled as you watched Rafe stare down at you like a predator hunting his prey. The hand previously on your ass was now slithering its way up your sides, and under the edge of your crop-top.

His hand on your bare skin felt like fire engulfing every area he touched, then he slid his hand over the whole of your breast, giving it a rough squeeze: then circling his thumb over the bud of your nipple. A deep groan rising in his throat.

Something about his reaction to your fear and body reignited a flame inside of you, “Rafe, I said stop!” You said, shoving him away to the best of your ability.

That same flame snuffed out seconds later when he grabbed your throat harshly and slammed you into the wall, your head knocking against it so hard pain started to bloom in your skull immediately.

“Are you stupid?” He said, pressing you harder into the wall by your neck. “Fine, be difficult.”

His second hand came up to your face, grabbing your cheeks and prying your mouth open before shoving his index and middle fingers down your esophagus, effectively gagging you. “If you bite me, I'll knock your teeth down your fucking throat” he warned, and from his tone of voice this wasn't an empty threat.

The digits lodged in your throat caused you to gag and choke around him. He resumed his ministrations on your breasts, grabbing and groping until he was satisfied.

The hand under your shirt slipped out, and began traveling down your stomach to the hem of your shorts. You tried telling him to stop again, but only incoherent gargles were made out.

“What did you say?” He taunted, the tips of fingers sliding just below the fabric of your shorts. More tears bubbled up to your waterline.

Fighting him is useless, all you could do was stand there and take it. Before his hand traveled any further, it retreated, as did the fingers in your mouth.

His hand grabbed your chin again, but this time almost gently. Then his lips smashed onto yours in a hungry, aggressive kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. His hand grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you closer to himself.

Pulling away, he whispered in your ear, “I'm going to ruin you so well, that no guy within a twenty-mile radius will want you” he sounded crazy, he knew he sounded crazy.

“Rafe..don't, please” you pleaded again, sinking further into the wall as if it were going to consume you.

“Sh sh” he cooed at you, “You have no reason to be crying, not yet”

Brushing a couple strands of loose hair away from your face, he took a good at you; your disheveled hair from when he yanked you off of the ground, your tear stained face and fearful eyes, how your bottom lip is still trembling, the way your chest was rising and falling rapidly. “On your knees” he told you.

Another soft sob left your lips, your eyes falling shut. Sinking down onto your knees in front of him, a laugh sounded from above you, a genuine, hearty laugh.

“I always knew you were a slut” he said, his voice laced with a noxious venom that was seeping into your bloodstream. “I told you to look at me” he snarled, a hand again gripping the roots of your hair.

Looking up at him through watery lashes, he groaned again. One hand still planted firmly in your hair, the other coming up to the waistband of his pajama pants and tugging them down just below the bulge in his boxers. "You should consider yourself lucky" he chuckled, also pulling down his draws enough to take out his cock.

There it stood, fully erect; he was huge, the tip an angry red, veins trailing up and down the length of it.

He gripped the base of his cock with his free hand, pumping it lightly, dragging you closer by your hair until you were face to face with it, “I don't wanna-” before could finish your plea he thrusted his cock into your mouth and sank in as far as he could. Your gagged chokes were the only thing heard as he thrusted into your mouth once more to the hilt of his cock.

“Fuck..” he growled, pulling out and thrusting back into your mouth. He was too big, your throat is already getting sore from his treatment. Before long he set a harsh pace, fucking into your mouth over and over again. You couldn't breath with the way his cock was being lodged into your throat repeatedly, another round of heavy tears crowded your eyesight forcing their way down your cheeks, though you still kept your eyes glued to his. Tears and drool meet at your chin, dripping down your neck making a horrid mess.

It felt like hours were going by as he continued to use your mouth for his pleasure. His grunts and groans became more frequent the longer it went on, drips of pre-cum coating your tongue with every rough thrust. “Fuuck” Rafe moaned, his head dipping back as his movement stilled and he held you in place on his cock. His length throbbed inside of your throat, and after a couple of moments cum was filling your mouth, and airways; with his hand still planted in your hair, all you could do was choke it down.

He pulled out seconds after, you inhaled in a gasp, coughing and choking on the build up of saliva. More tears rushing to the surface. The hand in your hair now gone, but he still stood over you glaring down.

“C-Can I go now..” you asked in a quiet sob, your voice weak and sore. You looked at the floor, the feeling of his eyes on you too much to bear now.

“God, you really are fucking stupid” he laughed, stripping himself of his pants and boxers. “No, you can't leave,” he barked. “Now stand up”

A whimper escaped past your lips as you slowly stood up, leaning against the wall for support, still staring down at the floor.

His hands came up to your top, pulling it up and off of you. Next they came down to the band of your shorts, this time you weakly grabbed at his wrists, a pathetic attempt on your end. Still he ripped them halfway down your thighs in one go, then yanked them down in another motion, left pooling around your ankles.

The only thing you wore now was your panties, all he stood wearing was his short sleeve shirt.

“Go lay your ass down,” he said, pointing at the bed behind him. You didn't say anything as you took slow steps towards the large bed, which seemed to seal your fate.

Going to lay face down on the mattress a tight grip was placed on your shoulder. “On your back” he demanded, his temper seeming ready to snap again.

Turning around and sitting on the bed in front of Rafe, your gaze remained on the floor. Before you could lay back he shoved you onto the bed, a gasp getting caught in your throat.

He began trailing his fingertips up your thighs slowly, the feeling sending shivers down your spine, chilling you to the bone. They dragged up the sides of your thighs, your hips, to the hem of your underwear; then gripping it and pulling them down your legs slowly.

Your body finally bare to him, he looked you over completely. “Spread your legs” he commanded, hands traveling back down to your thighs, tapping on them impatiently. Still you kept them squeezed shut, refusing to give him what he wanted.

“You must love it when I'm rough with you” he growled, gripping your thighs and prying them apart against your will. Squeezing between them, his hips made it so you couldn't possibly close them now.

His cock laid against your stomach, making it look bigger than before. Pulling back a little, one of the hands on your thigh slid farther up until he was practically cupping your cunt.

A scoff escaped his lips when he slid a finger through your folds. “Y'know, you keep begging me to stop..” he said, bringing his fingers to your mouth and shoving them back down your throat so you could taste yourself coating his fingers. “You're awfully fucking wet”

Humiliation and embarrassment swelled inside of you, a deep red spreading across your face with his finger still inside of your mouth.

After a couple seconds of holding his fingers down your throat he dislodged them, then moved the hand from your face down to your core, spreading your saliva across your folds before suddenly plunging a finger inside of you.

A loud cry left your lips, following that, a sharp sting spread across your face as your head snapped to the side with the force of the impact. He slapped you.

“How many fucking times do I have go tell you to shut up” he barked, punctuating his sentence by pulling his finger out of you and roughly pushing it back in. A cry getting caught in your throat, you managed to keep quiet by biting down on your persistently trembling bottom lip.

Again, he slid his finger in and out of you: when it became easy to sink his digit into you he added another. You could feel yourself dripping onto his fingers and down onto the bed sheets. A muffled whimper escaped your mouth and that only seemed to rile Rafe up more, as he began thrusting his digits into you harder, rocking your body with every motion of his hand. His thumb ghosting lightly over your clit, before rolling the bud under his finger.

A moan clawed its way up your throat and out into the open, though he said nothing, Rafe leaned down and caught your lips in a bruising kiss, shoving his tongue back into your mouth.

He sped up his ministrations on your cunt, finger curling and hitting spots that had you shamefully wet. You didn't want this, but your body was betraying you, reacting to everything he's doing to you.

You felt your cunny squeeze around his finger, suck them in greedily. Rafe pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. “You're gonna cum already?” He asked almost mockingly, a laugh on the tip of his tongue.

Shaking your head quickly, you knew it was a lie. The tightening feeling in your stomach, the way you could feel yourself throbbing around his fingers. You were sure he could feel it too.

“Liar” was all he said before drawing tight small circles on your clit, fingers moving faster, if possible. It didn't take long before the tightening feeling in your core snapped; a long whimper escaping your bruised lips.

Your hands gripped the duvet covering the bed, thighs attempting to close without success. Heavy breaths leaving your mouth.

Your core tightened around the fingers inside of you, still pushing you through your high.

Slowing his movements down but never completely stopping, he looked at you intensely: watching every face you made in your post-orgasm state.

He practically ripped his fingers out of you, and removed the shirt he wore. Leaning over you, one hand next to your head to steady himself, the other grabbing the base of his cock and moving to slide the tip through your folds, spreading your slick against the crown of it.

“You should be thanking me,” he said, pressing his cock-head harder against your core, just enough pressure make you squirm.

With the remaining energy you had, you looked into his eyes and sneered, ”Fuck you “ through gritted teeth.

Thrusting into you in one quick motion, he laughed, “No, I'm fucking you. “ A sharp cry was forced out of you, more tears rushing down your face. It didn't matter how wet you were, it felt like he was splitting you in two.

Giving you no time to adjust before he gripped one of your hips and harshly started rutting into you with reckless abandon. Your cunt was throbbing with pain you'd never felt before.

“Rafe! Stop, it hurts!” You cried out, your hands letting go of the duvet to push at his chest.

Again he laughed, “Good, maybe you'll learn to keep that mouth of yours shut” he seemed genuinely amused by the pain you were in, the pain he was putting you through.

The burning sensation between your legs was unbelievable, but what was even more unimaginable was when the sharp ache between your legs was replaced with pleasure that was spreading through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve in your body.

A moan ripped through the air, instead of pushing at this chest you resorted to digging your nails into his biceps, the only thing you could manage in your state.

“What a whore” he groaned, leaning down and taking one of your nipples in his mouth; releasing it, then nipping roughly at the bud. Another soft moan left your lips. “You fucking love this, I feel the way your pussy is pulling me in” he said, leaned closer into you, watching as tears slid down your rosy face.

“Fuck” he grunted, leaning down and catching your lips in his again. The kiss was scorching hot, melting almost. Your lungs left empty from the way he was fucking into you, now you thought you were going to asphyxiate.

He started to trail the kiss to the corner of your lips, to your cheek, down your neck to then start sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin, leaving hickeys in his wake. More low moans and whimpers spilling from your mouth the longer he's inside of you.

“Rafe… please” you whined, hips bucking upwards involuntarily, your eyes screwed shut from the unwanted pleasure coursing through your veins.

“That's it, fuckin’ beg for it” he growled, hips slamming into you at a brutal pace. Lifting himself to lean back on his haunches he gripped your hips and dragged you down onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

Sweat gathering at your hairline, too fucked out to do anything other than lay there and take it. One hand left your hip to start drawing random shapes on your clit.

“Rafe…don't” you gasped, your orgasm building up quicker than the last. Your throat hurt still from his earlier treatment of it, and your strained moans only came to irritate it more.

“I'll do as I fucking please” he snarled, giving you a particularly rough thrust to get his point across. Beads of sweat snaked down his forehead as he continued to fuck you hard enough to make the bed sway back and forth.

An incoherent moan left your lips as the first waves of your orgasm washed over you, drowning in a sea of pleasure you never asked for.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy and his pace long forgotten, his only goal was reaching his peak.

Before long his hips stilled, his cock sunk as deep it would go, kissing your most sensitive spot when warmth spread through your cunt as he filled you with his seed, dripping out from around him and onto the bed below.

Your eyes widened as you looked at Rafe like he had two heads, “D-Did you-” disbelief filled you as he smirked down at you with that same mirthful smile.

“What do you think, baby?” his use of the pet name making you sick, his cock still deep inside of you.

Moving in every way to try and squirm back from him, all he did was press you into the mattress by your hips and muttered a simple, “I'm not done yet”

The End

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #dark rafe cameron #dark rafe x reader #dark obx #outer banks smut #obx #tw noncon #dark fic

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