#memory and you’re struggling to even remember what it felt like to be in those shoes and you don’t know how much is repressing trauma and | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simpjaes · 11 months ago

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PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM (l.hs)

You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.

៸៸៸ minors do not interact!

៸៸៸ simp gamer ! lee heeseung x afab reader

៸៸៸ wc: 30k

៸៸៸ tags: smut, sister’s boyfriend trope, exhibitionism and voyeurism, dom heeseung, he is also unemployed lol, gaming antics, discord streaming, sexting, sex bets, shameless behavior, food mentions, alcohol use, implied sickness due to said alcohol, jake, sunghoon, and jay as the gamer friends who have a bet going. also the guys who get to watch….kind of.

៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: cheating/infidelity, dubcon-ish at one instance, heeseung is mean and manipulative. instances where jake, jay, and sunghoon take advantage of a situation where reader is drunk (conversation based), the reader can be lifted, visibly marked, has hair that can have fingers ran through it, and blushes visibly.

៸៸៸ a/n: this fic was written for heeseung's gf @drunkhazed! i really loved the idea, as you can see, i kind of went crazy with it. i hope it lives up to your imagination but maybe not idk. you better love it anyway oomfie, bc i loved writing it for u. this fic was briefly edited but likely still has a million typos and grammar errors.

៸៸៸ nsfw tags below

៸៸៸ nsfw tags: 10” heeseung, dubcon-ish at one instance, masturbation, pillow humping, cum eating, degradation, hentai watching, sexting, sex on camera, blow job, voyeurism, exhibitionism, deep penetration, cream pie, breeding, blood and spit, one mention of piss but no actual piss (form of degradation), fingers down your throat.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Walking into an empty room has never felt so freeing, especially in knowing this is your space. Safe from your parents, bare and ready to be adorned with all of the things you hold dear to you. What’s even better? It’s bigger than your room back home, and you even have a little attached bathroom of your own.

Life is great. You think studying here will ease your mind and allow you to graduate top of your class by the time it’s all over and done with. If you could kiss your sister, you would, really.

You remember being kids and the two of you promising that when you grow up, you’d live together and never grow apart. After actually growing up though, she finished her degree and went off on her own, leaving you by yourself with no one to get you through the hardships of becoming a college student yourself.

With her working full time for several years and you struggling your own way to the top, she really did follow through with that young childhood promise.

“Why don’t you come live with me through college? I’m sure it would be easier than living with all those rules.”

You didn’t even think twice and had your bags packed a single day after the invitation. You stayed up all night getting it done, emptying your childhood room filled with both good and bad memories. Alas, you did have to wait until the spring semester was over though. Thankfully, you were only sleeping in a packed up room for about a week.

You find yourself here now, with your sister lovingly making lunch in the kitchen while her boyfriend, who you have only met briefly at holiday gatherings, stays in the office-turned-gaming room hooting and howling over some game he’s playing.

“Don’t mind him.” She half-smiles when he doesn’t immediately head for the kitchen, making her own plate and moving to the table with a sense of annoyance. “He’ll be out in a bit, it’s a pretty normal occurrence.”

“You don’t think it’s rude?” You furrow your brows now, automatically assuming that your sister deserves a man willing to work just as much as she does. Still, you don’t entirely mind that you weren’t forced into an official meeting of the man of the house first thing when you walked in.

“Nah, not really. Been dating him for years, I knew what I signed up for when I moved him in.” She smiles while shaking her head, seemingly accepting all of his positives and negatives.

“Does he not have a job?” You pry, picking at your plate and trying to memorize his actual name because for a little while, you really started to wonder if his name was just a variation of “honey” and “babe”. Thankfully not.

“He’s looking for one.” She says, looking at you and trying to read your judgment. “Before you say anything, he has money. Or–well, his parent’s have money. They pay his half of the rent right now.”

You shrug, noting that she really does seem happy and you’d be the best person to judge her level of fulfillment outside of herself anyway. You trust that she picked the right man, even if he’s still screaming in the other room with an empty stomach.

“By the way…” She says with a wicked smile, one that you remember growing up with. The other end of that smile always ends with some sort of…antic. “We’re throwing you a welcome party this weekend. Inviting all of our friends too, so it’s easier for you to start being social on this side of town.”

You would groan, but growing up in your childhood home with your parents never came with parties. No birthdays at home, no sleepovers, nothing. Hell, they wouldn’t even allow you to attend other parties as a child, and going to college parties was out of the question.

The only party you ever attended was during the time you snuck out. They made damn sure you never snuck out again after that mishap as well.

“Oh, really?” You chew and speak at the same time, not minding your manners at all considering you can get away with it now. “Is there gonna be alcohol?”

“Oh, yes, yes.” She smiles again. “Gonna give you a proper party since, you know.”

You nod to her and you both laugh together at the found freedom you share, and then, well, the king of screaming like a toddler walks in. His hair looks like shit, an indent at the top of the messy locks indicating that he must have had his headset on for a long fucking time. Loose shirt with the sleeves pushed up, eyes sleepy and red, probably burning from the sunlight coming through the windows, and some sort of smile on his face. He looks at his girlfriend with that tired smile, about to thank her for the meal, then his eyes trail to you.

“Oh fuck–” His hands raise to run his fingers through his hair, then both rest on the back of his neck as he lets out a big sigh. “Was that today?”

You give him the side eye of all side eyes at this moment. Reminding yourself how you and your sister spent all morning hauling your stuff in without his help. She also did say he would have put together your desk, dresser, shelf, and bed frame by the time you got here. Well, he didn’t.

“Yep.” She pops the p on the end of her word indicating passive aggressive annoyance.

“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, placing his empty plate right back into the cupboard and making his way to your room. “I’ll do it now. I’m sorry babe.”

Your sister nods triumphantly, watching your look of surprise in reaction to the way he instantly appears to fix his mistake without more than a single word from her.

“He knows when he fucks up. He was supposed to do it yesterday but as you can see, he hasn’t left his PC since like, nine o’ clock last night.” She shrugs.

You laugh, furrowing your brow at her.

“I really didn’t expect him to be so lazy, sis, I always figured you’d be dating a doctor or something.”

She brushes off her shoulders with a proud look, leaning towards you with a smile.

“He was working a really good job but I could see how unhappy he was. I’m giving him a year or two to figure himself out. He’s been back and forth trying new things, hasn’t quite landed on anything he likes yet though.”

She is a fucking saint. Honestly, Heeseung might be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman willing to do such a thing for him.

“Woah,” You start, taking a sip of your water. “He’s trying to make it as a streamer right now, I take it?”

She shakes her head with an eye roll.

“Not really, he’s just always spent as much free time as possible playing but, I trust that he’ll figure something out sooner rather than later.”

And you pry for a while longer. Learning about all of the things your sister and Heeseung do together, learning about her friends and his friends, the rules of the house, and the not-rules of the house. For instance, you’re allowed to bring home hook-ups or dates if you give a fair warning so she doesn’t have to hear it. However, the food in the fridge is for the house occupants only, and people need to ask before opening the cupboards and filling their plates. Of course, unless there is a party.

Another rule, which was a bit too much information but you figure it’s fair since everyone here is an adult. She and Heeseung apparently have a pretty active sex life and apologized in advance for some of the things you may end up hearing. She also noted that there will be ear plugs if you need them, but that she suggests throwing on some headphones and ignoring it. Fair enough, it’s her house anyway.

And after a few hours pass, Heeseung makes his way out of your room with a smile on his face. You remember seeing him maybe two or three times during the holidays but he never mingled with you. He never mingled with anyone, actually. He tended to keep to himself, with his loose fitting outfits always sticking out in the awkward family photos that your sister would sneak him into. That’s all you can really recall about him.

It is kind of strange seeing him in his natural habitat of your sister’s house. Already, you’ve seen more personality in him than you ever did during the brief meetings. It’s kind of nice to see him proudly nodding his head to your bedroom as if to invite you in properly like he should have done hours ago when you arrived. He took it upon himself to rearrange the room for maximum space. Arguably, you’re impressed.

“I unpacked some of your things too.” He comments as he hugs your sister from behind in the doorway. “Needed to make sure the dresser drawers wouldn’t cave in.”

Your eyes trail to the pretty dresser, painted white with even prettier trim on it. It’s the first time you’ve ever had a matching bedroom set. You head over and take a peek in the drawers, noting that he didn’t just haphazardly throw your clothes in there.

Top drawer, all of your undergarments are fucking folded. Second drawer, socks, tights, and leggings, third drawer, soft pajama sets also folded. And the fourth drawer remains empty.

You turn to look at him, embarrassed by the fact that he took it upon himself to do that. You can’t see a single shred of embarrassment in his own face though, and it appears he really was just being nice.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I do the laundry here so I’ll be folding those more often than you’d think.” He smiles, and your sister lends a chuckle.

“He’s gotta do something while I’m making most of the money.” She shrugs, totally fine with the fact that her boyfriend just handled every piece of underwear you own save for the ones you’re wearing.

“Closet too, hung up what I could but I’m like, really hungry so I figured I could leave the rest to you.”

You nod in appreciation, in awe of your new room and the soft, plush carpet on your floor. Your old room was hard wood with dust filled corners, it felt cold. Here though? You feel welcomed, warm, and cozy.

Hundreds of ideas flood your mind about how you want to decorate the room and as you go to start unpacking your miscellaneous items, your sister nods and backs out of the room with her boyfriend still hugging her from behind.

There, you’re left to your own devices.

Another thought crosses your mind when you hear the door close as well. The fact that you haven’t had a door to close for your bedroom since you snuck out all those years ago. The sound felt like music to your ears as you found yourself falling back on the bare mattress with a deep and relieved sigh.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

With all of the unpacking, wall art compositions, and napping in between, the week flew by quicker than you anticipated.

Waking up today, at half past two in the afternoon felt so good. Your duvet felt crispy, your room was completed and finally your own, and it felt safe. You could smell the breakfast cooking in the kitchen, and your sister’s voice paired with Heeseung ringing fondly at each other.

Little bit strange that you didn’t wake up to silence in the house, considering Heeseung is usually just now heading to sleep with that fucked up sleep schedule and your sister is normally lounging in the living room with a snack, iced coffee, and watching her favorite reality shows. Save for when she’s at work all day, of course.

Still, you slowly pull yourself out of bed feeling happy and refreshed, stepping into your attached bathroom to do your morning routine before exiting the room, and then heading into the kitchen with a small “good morning.”

“It’s nearly three in the afternoon.” Your sister smiles at you. “But good morning to you too sis.”

Heeseung, seemingly dressed for the day with a band tee and a beanie on, lends you a glance and a wave as he swings back and forth in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter in a bowl for your sister and unaware of the speckle of said batter stuck in a strand of his hair.

You lean over your sister’s shoulder after waving back to him, noting how she’s making little bite-sized pieces of pancake. Ah, this is the life, really.

“Well? Don’t just stand there? Pour some juice or something. We need a big meal before tonight.” Your sister laughs at your sleepy content hum from behind her, noting how you act much like she did when she first got out of the childhood home.

You take a step back, eyeing the room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together as to why Heeseung is awake and dressed and why she’s making a big meal to begin with. Both your sister and Heeseung note the confusion on your face.

“Ah, she forgot.” He rumbles with a smirk, not keeping his eyes on you for too long as his focus falls back to mixing.

“Did you really forget?” Your sister rolls her eyes with a spatula in hand, turning to you and putting her other hand on her hip. “Everyone seems excited to meet you, they’ll probably start pouring in around six or seven tonight.”

“Oh, right! The party!” You exclaim, shocked that you really did forget about it. With your sister’s promise of alcohol, you assume that explains the large breakfast, and also probably why Heeseung doesn’t look like a total slob.

“Yeah, the party.” Heeseung snickers, his back turned away from you but overall acting as if you’ve already lived here for months. Throwing the same sarcasm at you that your sister does.

“Now go pour some juice, we have to go to the store after this and pick out drinks.” Your sister finally says, turning back to flip the pancakes in the pan. “You have drank since I moved out, right? You never wanted to try anything with me back then.”

You reluctantly nod your head, and your sister gasps fondly.

“Someone got into the liquor cabinet?”

You nod with a laugh, knowing that you learned how to do it from her despite always being too chicken as a teenager to do it with her. The curiosity of being drunk didn’t outweigh the fear of being caught at all for you, at the time anyway.

“Sunghoon is usually the one babysitting us, so no need to worry about pacing yourself.” Heeseung comments along with his sneaky side eye at you.

You don’t notice him do it at all, and even if you did you’d just assume it’s a passing glance. After all, you did open the fridge a little too hard.

“Sunghoon?” You ask.

“One of my friends,” He raises his hand to his hair to try and shake out the now, obvious, speckle of batter that’s starting to dry in the strands. “By the way, when you go to bed tonight– make sure you lock your door.” He continues, turning around now and leaning against the counter just to watch you lift on your toes for some of the cups in the cabinet.

His eyes watch the way you lift, your calf muscles flexing, your back arching slightly as you try to reach…And, well, he’s acting much like any man would, if he’s being honest, but ultimately he keeps his eyes to himself when your sister is turned or looking at him.

“Noted.” You nod without paying much attention, pouring the drinks and now moving the filled glasses to the table.

You make brief eye contact with him, noting how he’s already looking at you while your sister is simply listening, facing the other way and mostly just focused on not burning the pancakes.

“I’m serious. Lock your door.” He repeats, scanning your body and judging just how dangerous it is for you to be living here.

Mostly because he’s always found you quite cute, and he’s very aware that his friends probably will too. Hell, he’s already crossed a line with you since day one of you living here, he’s shocked you haven’t yet picked up on it, and knows very well that his friends will make moves instantly if you give them a chance. And with all things considered, you seem a bit too unaware of how attractive you are.

“Hm?” You raise a brow as you make your way back to the kitchen. “I was going to, but now you’re making it sound important.”

“Well,” Your sister chimes in, stepping back once and holding out her hand. Heeseung is quick adjust his eyes, handing the fresh bowl of batter to her with a kiss to her cheek as if he wasn’t just eye fucking you. “All of them are single, and you’re just about as good looking as I am.” She laughs half-heartedly.

She’s not trying to have an ego, but it’s best to warn you now at least. It’s not that she thinks she’s hot or anything, but she knows they think she is. And if that’s the case, they’re gonna be drooling over the younger, more single, version of herself.

Heeseung rolls his eyes now though, leaning back against the counter and scanning you again the second your sister has her back turned. This time more blatantly. Eyes landing on the curve of your hips to the length of your legs.

“Yeah.” He says, sucking in a breath with a half lidded gaze, letting his eyes trail down. “I’ll try to keep them at bay, though.”

For Heeseung, there is nothing wrong with looking. For you? You feel very seen by him and it’s kind of throwing you for a loop. Your appearance becomes the main point of conversation and it makes you want to kind of leave the kitchen.

“I doubt that’ll be an issue.” You try to laugh it off.

“No, seriously.” Your sister says, turning to look at you briefly to give you a serious expression. “Back when I first met Heeseung, all four of them were after me. I swear, they’re more than just competitive with their games.”

“I always win though.” Heeseung nods triumphantly, now keeping his eyes to himself and focusing more on his girlfriend.

“That, you do.” She boasts for him, leaning back after moving the pancakes to a plate and landing a kiss on his lips.

You study how they move together. So in sync, not stepping on each other’s toes, ultimately moving in harmony. Likes it natural to them. She really does look happy, and he just looks like a guy who doesn’t know where to land his gaze.

A normal guy, you think, who was given the same freedom your sister gives to you. It really is just who she is to take care of people, and the harsh judgment you originally had about Heeseung kind of fades a little bit as you watch them.

You try not to study him too much though because damn, your sister knows how to pick them in terms of like, scale of attractiveness. Heeseung is the type of guy the two of you would giggle over at the mall. The type you’d silently bicker over from behind a store rack of jackets, or perhaps even fantasize about during a long and boring tv show with your parents.

It’s not strange to find him attractive, because, well, he is. But you know your place here, and you’ve grown up to the point to know that you can appreciate a person’s looks and not need anything from them at the end of the day.

However, you kind of hope his friends are at the same level as him. For one, to avoid having a secret crush on Heeseung, because who wouldn’t? And secondly, they’re single, just like you.

Apparently they’re also a threat to the “innocence” both your sister and Heeseung seem to want to protect within you.

“I’ll lock my door.” You say finally, receiving a happy nod from both of them as they continue their cooking and you make your way to the table.

And while you do plan to lock your door, you also plan to take your time in getting dressed for the party. You kind of do want to be pounced at, or at least, feel the freedom of knowing you can look however you want without your parents forcing you into the ugliest outfit known to man. You know how to dress yourself, you’ve just never quite been allowed to do it. All those sneaky clothes your sister bought for you can finally come in handy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When your sister mentioned throwing you a welcome party, you expected a gathering of friends standing around awkwardly sipping wine coolers. What you didn’t expect was for there to be mood lighting, music, an array of nicely dressed people, and a large gaming set up in the living room where the big screen television was muted and a maximum of eight at a time could go head to head on super smash bros.

You found yourself enjoying it more and more as the night went on and you became more comfortable being greeted by strangers. Each drink you were handed mostly came from your sister, but by the time she stopped making her own drinks and began to drink whatever the hell-mix her friends were giving to her, Heeseung was the one handing you drinks.

“Come here–” Heeseung says over the blaring music, still floored by how good you look now versus how good you looked this morning. To him, the drinks he’s having paired with you running around looking like this? It’s even more dangerous than he thought as he continuously finds himself staring, and finds you seemingly still unaware of it.

“I’ll show you how to mix this one.”

Your sister was off somewhere in the house with her group of pretty friends, and you’ve really only briefly met everyone as they walked in the door. The drinks in your system make you want to actually mingle though. Everyone else is mingling, everyone else looks comfortable and happy to enjoy the party. It drives you to feel the same.

You nod to Heeseung with warmth in your cheeks, noting that he looks about as tipsy as you do when he stumbles his way back into the brightly lit kitchen with you. Your eyes burn at the light, as do his, and he groans at it before opening the fridge and pulling out the cranberry juice.

“Your sister said you’ve probably only chugged from a bottle, so I opted to give you the easiest drink to make.” He explains in a slight slur, setting the juice on the counter and ultimately knocking it with his elbow when he turns to grab the vodka bottle. “Cranberry juice and vodka.”

You feel endeared by his genuine smile and embarrassed laugh at the way he knocked over the juice, watching him in his own element and comfort zone. It makes you feel a little guilty that he’s been the one making your drinks, only because your sister must have asked him to by the time she got too drunk.

Heeseung seems to do just about everything she asks of him, and while you’re thankful, you feel a little bad that he’d probably rather be in the other room with his friends rather than trapped in this empty and terribly lit kitchen teaching you how to make a fucking mixed drink.

“I put about–” He starts, grabbing your cup and pouring it half full with vodka. “this much into yours.”

In your own state, it’s not like you’d know what’s too much or what’s too little to put into a drink, but so far everything he’s handed to you tasted good. So, you nod at him, attempting to focus in on the cup.

“And this much juice.” He continues, now pouring not enough juice into the vodka.

From this angle, watching him from behind, you pause for a moment in your tipsy brain. Distracted by the way his shoulders flex when he’s grabbing that big ass bottle of juice, but you’re quick to tear your eyes away. He’s just a nice looking guy, dressed up for the first time since you moved in, you can’t fucking help it. Surely your sister would understand if she ever caught you checking him out, right?

“Then just stir it.” He adds now, turning to face you and dipping two fingers deep into the liquid of your cup, swirling them, then handing you the drink.

He sucks the remaining mixture off of his fingers in a blatant show of his interest that you’re still far too aloof to pick up, watching you pretend he didn’t catch you staring. And with his fingers still in his mouth, he smirks around them, giving you a pleased expression when you take a sip from the cup.

You glance up just for a second when you taste the same exact drink he’s been making you for the past forty five minutes and nod, trying not to focus on the way his tongue darts between his fingers twice before he pulls them out of his mouth.

“Good?” He asks for confirmation, and when you smile and nod again, his eyes stare harder.

Surely it’s just because you’re drunk, but you swear he’s giving you bedroom eyes, and paired with what he just did with his tongue….well. He looks at you similar to how he did this morning. And when you moved in. And back during that one Holiday party he attended at your childhood home.

Definitely the alcohol. Like, he’s dating your sister. She’s the prettier one, the more successful one, the one with more personality. You’re just you. No way in hell is he really looking at you the same way he looks at her. It’s just your boosted confidence of finally being able to wear such a skimpy outfit. It’s just the liquid courage, that’s all.

“You know–” He starts this time, leaning against the counter like he did this morning while helping your sister cook, trying to appear casual, cool, and perhaps attractive in this stance. “When I was beating Jay’s ass on smash bros earlier, he mentioned you.”

You continue to sip your drink, feeling a buzzing in your chest and ears as you listen to him. Far more able now to have any conversation he could throw at you compared to any other day. Even with the thought in your head that he might be checking you out.

“Oh? Which one is Jay again?” You ask, leaning slightly to peek around the wall at the crowd of bodies just a room over. Interest peaking solely because the majority of people in this house right now are like, next level attractive. Maybe this Jay guy can take your thoughts off of your sister’s fucking boyfriend.

“The one with the sunglasses on his head, wearing all black.” He starts, leaning close next to you and pointing just in front of your line of sight. “He’s a fucking loser, though.”

You look at the guy, trying to remember the short greeting he gave to you. A nod of his head when he pushed those same sunglasses up and into his hair. He threw a very quick glance at you, to your face, chest, legs, then back to your face where he nodded again before making his way into the kitchen to make himself a drink. You think, maybe, that Jay guy judged you positively upon meeting you.

“He didn’t even tell me his name, no wonder I didn’t know which one he was.” You lend a drunken laugh as you check him out, sipping your drink again while listening to Heeseung laugh next to you.

His laugh sounds closer, which makes sense considering he’s now leaning his weight on you with his elbow on your shoulder, resting his head there.

“I thought he was that one–” You say, now pointing your own finger to the other guy you met briefly, the one with the longer hair, dyed blonde with hella untouched roots..

He had a nice smile when he greeted you, leaning in for a warm hug with a small “great to finally meet you.” His clothes drastically differed from Jay’s though. Far more casual and normal, loose jeans and a large hoodie just like what Heeseung seems to wear so often, except the colors were a bit brighter.

“Nah, that’s Jake.” Heeseung snorts, breathing in your scent as he leans into you as closely as he can, letting the stands of his hair poking out from his beanie tickle your neck. “Careful with that one, he’s a pervert.”

You’re quick to admit interest in this one too, swatting Heeseung’s hair from your neck without thinking much about it. Which, arguably, doesn’t quite sit well with him.

Not only are you almost entirely ignoring him now, but it’s his fault for pointing out his friends to you again despite his attempts at making them appear unappealing to you. It seems that his girlfriend’s little sister is a bit too eager to look at guys, yet not eager enough to look at him.

“Oh yeah?” You look for a little too long at Jake, in Heeseung’s opinion, as he draws his finger over to the very sober Sunghoon.

“You remember meeting him though, he made sure of it.” Heeseung rolls his eyes from beside you, leaning hard. “Also a pervert, just a little less obvious. I’d steer clear.”

“Is Jay the only one that isn’t a pervert?” You ask off handedly in a shy chuckle, bobbing your head now to the music bumping against the walls.

“God, did I not just tell you he mentioned you?” Heeseung shifts his weight to his other leg, skewing his head and looking straight down your shirt. “He asked if you were like your sister, the freak.”

He leans away from you at that point, noting that your drink is already near empty again and needing to refill it so that way he can push his own opinions into that empty little brain of yours.

“What do you mean, like my sister?” You ask, watching him take the cup from you and place it right there in front of the same ingredients he just used to make the drink before.

“Well,” He tilts his head back slightly when he turns to prepare the drink, eyes looking at you in a dark and somewhat scary way, still with a charming smile though. “Your big sis kind of got a little dirty on our first date. Guess Jay hopes you’re the same.”

Heeseung hopes you are too, but not for them.

And, for you? It’s not like you’ve ever been given a chance to do such a thing. However, upon meeting and then re-meeting his friends from afar, all of them really are quite attractive. Maybe you could follow in your sister’s footsteps just to say that yes, you fuck on the first date too.

“I guess I am a bit like her.” You say offhandedly, looking away from Heeseung and tipping your head back around the corner to check the three men out again.

And when Heeseung turns to give you another full drink, he snaps his fingers.

“Get back in here.” He says, and when you turn to face him again, his eyes land right back on your chest.

“I’d advise against it.” He slurs at seeing your curious gaze land on one specific friend, stirring your drink with his fingers much like he did before. “Jay is a slut.”

“All of them are, actually.”

Unfortunately, Heeseung’s warnings go through one ear and out the other. He can see it, especially with the way you place that drink up to your lips and make your way into the living room, leaving him behind without so much as a “thank you”.

And when you sit, directly between Jay and Jake, both of them turn their heads from the large TV screen, which allows Sunghoon to land some pretty major blows on them until he, himself, turns his head to witness two drunk idiots and a pretty girl between them.

“Heeseung said you asked about me.” You state boldly, leaning into the wrong person to say it.

“Well, he’s a liar.” Jake bellows out, studying how drunk you are and glancing up at Jay with a snide grin. Raising his brows and gripping his controller.

“That would be me who asked.” Jay pipes in, and it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice directly address you, but man, alcohol is fun. It makes you feel even more bold when you turn to look at him with a face that you assume shows interest.

“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” You ask, ignoring that you fumbled the greeting.

“You weren’t drunk enough,” Jay laughs, ignoring the screen as it gives Sunghoon his win. “I see now though,” He looks you up and down, slouching back against the couch and stretching his arm wide around the back of it, and you.” You’re definitely drunk.”

You nod happily, eyes turning to Jake, who is still just checking you out.

“Sure am.” You laugh, hopping up in one motion and turning to face them. “Heeseung also told me that you’re all fucking perverts, so.”

Jay and Jake both lend a “what the fuck, bro?” face at Heeseung, who was slouched against the wall, yet again, watching how you interact with his friends. He simply shrugs at them with a malicious smile into his drink. After all, he’s the one on top of the world right now. Not only does he have a hot as fuck girlfriend who lets him live and do as he pleases, but now he’s got a younger version of her running around, acting like she knows how to whore herself out.

He can tell you’re just like her in that regard. Ready, willing, wanting to experience everything all at once if the world throws it at you. From the way you sat between his friends to the way you snitched on him with a pretty smile on your face. Oh man, the guys probably love you already.

“So, what?” Jay rolls his eyes as Jake watches you stand on wobbling legs. “You don’t like to get laid?”

You bellow out a laugh that nearly throws you off balance, but Jake is very quick to lunge forward and grab your arm to steady you, forcing you to spill your drink all over yourself and him.

“Sure I do,” You ignore the blatant show of your mindstate and instead, remember how you’ve actually had plenty of sex during whatever time you could fit, in whatever place was hidden enough that didn’t involve your own home. “Why, you trying to get some?”

Jay smirks at you as Jake holds your half-spilled drink, listening to you flirt and smiling much the same way.

“Maybe.” Jay shrugs, side eyeing both of his friends. “You gonna give it up?” He adds, now blatantly checking you out from head to toe, liking very much what he’s seeing.

“Nope.” Heeseung suddenly cuts in, staring his three friends in the face as he grabs your drink from Jake and hands it back to you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pretending to be the knight in shining armor your sister wants him to be.

You look back at the three men as Heeseung leads you away, then you note that Sunghoon shrugs at you.

“What the hell?” You ask, slightly annoyed with Heeseung and the lights of the kitchen blinding you once again. “I was busy.”

“Busy doing what? Teasing my friends?” Heeseung shakes his head as he turns away from you, placing your cup down and opening the bottles back up. “You’re playing a dangerous game, babe, I’d stop if I were you.”

“And? Maybe I like it.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how the alcohol radiates behind your eyes and lends two Heeseungs to pretend you’re not attracted to. At least with his friends, you can be more open about it.

Heeseung stops making your drink and turns to look at you and the way your eyes struggle to adjust. He’s entirely floored by that statement. The fact that you’ve kept to yourself for the most part since you’ve moved in, and now you’re all cute and drunk in front of him revealing just how much of a whore you might be if you were given the chance? Damn.

“Your sister would kill you.” He says, turning back to your drink and knowing that your sister probably wouldn’t actually give a shit if you fuck his friends. He does though.

“I mean, I guess I won’t stop you.” He lies, now turning back to make your drink the exact same way and giving it to you despite knowing he shouldn’t be giving you more.

“Can honestly say you’re a bit too pretty for them, though.” He adds in a snide compliment, wanting so badly to flirt but doing his best to appear like it’s totally normal for him to say these things.

And as he notes your stare at him, processing the words, he takes this moment to grab a towel from the sink to dab away at the drink that you previously spilled all over yourself.

You look at him, watching him dab the towel against your arm. He seems focused on doing it, pretty face and clear skin shining in these morgue lights in the kitchen compared to everywhere else in the house. And then, you note how when he looks up, his eyes stop momentarily at the amount of cleavage you’re revealing for this occasion. Hah, he probably thinks his messy strands of hair hid his eyes from you, but you saw it.

“Oh, I get it.” You take in a deep inhale, reaching to pull his beanie over his eyes and letting out a bold laugh because really, you’re pretty drunk by this point. “You’re a pervert too.”

Heeseung shrugs, lifting the beanie back up and standing much taller in front of you. He skews his head down, looking right past your face and down your shirt this time. Proud of seeing the curve of them and the space between that could probably stimulate any cock you squeeze there.

“Maybe, yeah.” He smirks, taking a slight step closer and letting both arms trap you against the counter, hovering above you with an intimidating stance. “Maybe even more than they are.” He adds, already preparing himself to press his hips up and against you, uncaring of how it would look if he were to be found like this with you.

Unfortunately, he’s forced to care because there’s a happy pair of footsteps making their way to the kitchen, and he really should not have been about to do that in the first place. He stumbles back at the sound, smiling at you with a quick, tipsy wink.

It leaves you a little dizzy as you stare at him with a weird kind of aroused feeling in your gut. Surely that’s the alcohol too, it has to be. You’re very quick to shrug off the small intimate moment as you hear your sister’s loud and booming voice calling out his name.

You watch as she envelopes him in a fraction of a second, lifting on her unbalanced feet to immediately start making out with him.

You’re not sure why you stand there and watch for a second, a little zoned out before Heeseung opens his eyes briefly and looks at you throughout the bruising kiss he’s currently an active participant of.

There’s that same look again, only this time he’s doing it while licking into your sister’s mouth. You’re so fucking confused right now. All the signals have to be your imagination, right?

You snap out of the daze then, whispering a small “ill just go somewhere else.” before leaving the kitchen and finding yourself at the table just outside of it.

You try to keep your eyes to yourself at this point regarding Heeseung, feeling all of the buzz and heat in your gut at the idea of being allowed to be openly sexually attracted to just about any man you lay eyes on. He’s nothing special, just a handsome guy. His friends are just as attractive, right?

And as you trail your eyes around the room trying to find someone to go mingle with, you are instead surrounded by your sister’s friends. Still, when you glance to the living room, every single time, either Jake, Jay, or that other guy is watching you with eyes that you’ve read before from other men.

Arguably, the same eyes Heeseung gave you just a few minutes before. At least with them, you know you’re not reading those bedroom eyes wrong.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Give me a week.” Jake says, elbowing Jay in the side and taking a hefty sip of his terribly mixed drink as his eyes drift to the new girl surrounded by other hot girls. “I'll be in her bed before the week is up..”

Jay rolls his eyes, standing from the couch and stretching out his own tipsy limbs as he walks to Sunghoon and sits on that couch instead.

“Three days for me then.” He says, giving Jake a too-confident face. “I could go over there right the fuck now and have her on her knees, probably.” He says as he looks at you, fitting in so well with the group of girls. Possibly being the hottest one too. “Maybe.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at his slurring best friends, clearly drunker than they realize.

“You both take the wrong approach.” He says, stiffening his shoulders before slouching entirely against the couch, considering ditching the baby-sitting job and having a drink as well. “You think they’d just let you fuck her? I’ll get her to go on a date with me first. Get her legs open in my car after.”

“Quite frankly, Sunghoon, I don’t really give a shit if they’d let me. I’m going to get some of that.” Jay responds.

All three of them are staring at you, thankfully, you don’t seem to notice as you fall into a conversation with that same group of girls, plus your sister now. And just as Jake was about to add more to the conversation, Heeseung makes his way in.

“Don’t–” Heeseung slurs as he flops beside Jake, letting his heavy limbs hurt his friend. “–even think about it, Jakey boy.” He says, knowing for a fact what all three of his whore friends are thinking. They’ve been staring and glancing at you all night.

Jake avoids eye contact, because he’s definitely thinking about it.

“No worries.” Jay shrugs. “We’re just looking, that’s all.”

Somehow, someway, all three of Heeseung’s friends pick up on what Jay is putting down. Ah, a deal of leaving him out, they suppose.

After all, Heeseung already managed to bag your sister. They know he’d keep her little sister off limits to them too. Out of respect or some shit, probably. Bro code, all of that.

“Keep it that way.” He hums, shoving Jake and laughing. “She’s too hot for you guys anyway, just like her sister.”

There’s a shared look between the three as Sunghoon lunges for Jay’s drink and takes a sip of it.

“Heeseung, we’re crashing here tonight.” He bellows out through tangy lips.

And, well, Heeseung didn’t argue because he knows he’s not in a state to really give a shit at this point. The only thing he needs to be focused on right now is willing his cock to soften up a bit before he does something drastic about it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Heeseung thinks hard as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s seeing two of himself which is kind of funny in one aspect, but also terrifying because he didn’t intend to drink this much.

Why is he so upset to see his friends go for you? You’ve been here a week and he’s already feeling so jealous? Really? Then again, he knew from the moment your sister told him you were moving you that it was going to be either very interesting or incredibly difficult.

Mostly because he’s stolen glances at you for years. Wondering when you’d ever come to visit, always looking so pretty and happy during those brief holiday gatherings. Oh yes, he’s had his eye on you for a fucking while. And now? You’re living here? And coming onto his friends right after he warned you not to?

For the past hour as he sipped and watched you roam the house, back and forth between the girls, your sister, and his boys, he couldn’t help but scoff at you for it. You haven’t spoken to him since the kitchen incident. A little bit of a blatant moment on his part, he admits, he even surprised himself with that.

Still, this protective feeling doesn’t come from being your future brother in law. Absolutely not. It stems entirely from the twitch in his pants he’s gotten nearly every single moment he’s gotten to take a long look at you.

It was manageable before, where he’d see you maybe once or twice a year. But now? It’s every single day, and it pisses him off that you’re not mingling with him during this party.

He stares at himself, bobbing his head to the music in the mirror before leaning forward against the counter and inching closer and closer to his own face.Finally, he can focus in and see only one of himself looking back in the mirror.

All he sees is a man who has managed to bag himself the perfect woman. One willing to coddle him and take care of him like a mother would, one willing to let him float through life unemployed for the time being, one that doesn’t entirely let him fuck the way he wants to solely because she’s far too confident in herself to let him pull such a thing with her.

Heeseung tilts his head at himself as he examines his face in the mirror, knocking his beanie off and running his fingers through his hair. Leaning back and once again to relish in his own doubled vision.

What he really sees looking back at him in that mirror is a man who bagged himself an almost perfect woman who appears to have a truly perfect sister. It’s the fact that suddenly, he can admit that he is bored in the bedroom, and a man who is far too eager to ignore that if he got the chance, he would be just like his friends regarding you.

He would be getting your number and asking to see what those tits look like under that skimpy shirt you’re wearing tonight. You’d probably show them too, considering the fact that you lived your entire life up until this point barred by church sermons and non-existent doors that offer no privacy to so much as finger yourself. You’re probably dying to experience all of the things you were already supposed to be well acquainted with at your age.

And as he thinks about it, head spinning in thoughts of what he’s already done just moments after you officially moved in, he slips his hand down. Groping himself through his jeans and staring down at the bulge that sits just above the counter.

He hangs his head, smirking and shivering at the small touch he lends to his own length. It’s the fact that he just got hard over the confirmation of being sexually unsatisfied in his own bedroom. The shamed truth that he stood here thinking a little too hard about what kind of nudes you’d send if he ever chose to ask for them, it’s not something he’s ashamed of either.

In fact, the thought of sneaking out of the bed while your sister sleeps just to slip into your room and cover your pretty little mouth in his cum? That’s more arousing than knowing he could just leave the bathroom right now and fuck your sister.

And he stands there for a few minutes testing that theory, running his fingers along the swollen inseam of his pants in a careful way, like his girlfriend does. He twitches once at the feeling, glancing up at himself in the mirror again, trying hard to imagine her in this bathroom with him.

Another twitch, weaker this time. He laughs at himself quietly in defeat before breathing in a deep inhale through his nose, allowing the muffled music just outside of the door to fade off through his hot ears and aroused mind.

He closes his eyes briefly when he grabs himself now. Rougher, harsher, messier. Trying to mimic the hand of a woman who probably hasn’t done this too much, trying to mimic what he thinks you’d do. His hips shift forward almost immediately and without intention, chasing the feeling of inexperience. Chasing the thought of someone that isn’t his girlfriend. He chuckles more now, confirming his theory.

Chasing it with his eyes closed up until he does open his eyes and sees himself looking so out of it for you. Knowing that you’re just ten feet away if he were to walk out of this bathroom right now, so drunk and cute, you probably wouldn’t think twice about giving it to him. Knowing that if he really wanted to, he could take you the way he’s always wanted your sister and you'd probably love every second of it.

He’d fuck you better. You’d be tighter, wetter, and louder for him than she ever has been.

And just as he goes to slide his hand down the front of his pants, intending to fuck his own fist to the thought of you tonight rather than turning that lock behind his own door to get between your sister’s legs, there’s a loud knock on the door. He jumps at the sound, adjusting his pants right back to where they belong before whipping around a bit too quickly and sending a bottle of perfume clattering to the floor in a loud POP sound.

“Shit-” He groans, smelling the intense aroma of what your sister wears, forcing his mind back to the reality of not being allowed to fuck you.

He tiptoes around the broken glass, nostrils burning at the strong scent before swinging the door open with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

“Heeeeeeeeseungie!” Your sister sings, fumbling over and leaning on him instantly with her arms circling his shoulders. She’s so gone that she doesn’t even notice the scent of her favorite perfume that just got destroyed.

“Hey honey,” Heeseung says calmly, appearing far more sober despite being a bit buckled at the knees. “Need help?”

She nods against his chest, unaware of his softening cock that wasn’t at all raging for her just moments before.

“There’s glass all over the floor right now, let’s go use your sister’s bathroom.”

The length in his pants shrank nearly instantly upon feeling her cling to him like this, with that cute, high pitched, voice she tends to use when she’s needy. He tries not to think about that though. Coming to terms with the fact that what used to get him off is currently turning him off? That’s too much of a dangerous thought right now.

“Mhm,” Your sister hums as he guides her to your closed bedroom door. “Wait!” Your sister panics, coming to her drunk senses for just long enough to blurt “She came in here with Sunghoon earlier, we should knock.”

Heeseung stiffens for a moment, pausing his step just outside your bedroom door. The weight of his own girlfriend against him should be something he loves right now, but he just finds himself wishing she’d get the fuck off of him.

The fact he’s somehow more pissed about you behind this door, probably giving it to Sunghoon, than he is in love with his girlfriend right now? Telling. He knocks once before immediately turning your door knob. Locked.

“Hey, your sister needs to use the bathroom.” Heeseung shouts right up against the crack of the door, wiggling the knob. “Open up!”

“Use the other bathroom!” You shout back in a muffled and far away sounding voice.

Heeseung stands there, pretending he doesn’t notice the sound of shuffling on the other side when the song booming through the speakers changes for a split second.

“Can’t use the other bathroom! There’s glass on the floor!”

Silence from the other side of the door for a brief moment then, click! You crack it open, cheeks flushed and eyes struggling to focus on him. Heeseung immediately pushes the door open to reveal not only Sunghoon, but Jake and Jay all three lounging around your room.

Still fully clothed, at least, but he can tell at least one of them appears to be struggling to hide his hard on. (Jake.)

Heeseung narrows his eyes at all three of the men. Jake sitting stiffly on the floor at the end of your bed, hands over his lap. Jay, lounging on your bed, as if he’s been on it a thousand times with a half-boner on full display. And then Sunghoon, clearly feeling some type of buzz as he’s the only one still drinking, leaning right up against the dresser that Heeseung built himself.

“Ooh,” Your sister hums, wiggling her finger at you.”Scandalous.”

You lend her a shy smile as you take a step back, willing them sooner rather than later to leave solely because you were busy in here.

Not like, fucking or anything. Just having a nice, innocent, conversation with three hot guys. That’s all. Plus, you’d never have been able to handle sitting alone in a room with these three if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system anyway. Especially with the way you initially only invited Sunghoon into your room to show him how you had the same style of socks he was wearing. Jake immediately followed both of you, followed by Jay, who was the one who closed the door and locked it.

And you pay no mind to Heeseung and your sister walking to your bathroom on unbalanced steps, you find yourself flopping back on the bed right beside Jay instead.

None of them have done anything at all to make you feel awkward or like this situation is dangerous either. In fact, the only thing you guys have talked about are the mutual interests that you share.

Poor you, so aloof when drunk. Unable to comprehend the fact that every single one of the guys in your room right now have made attempts to steer the conversation in their own way to things not so innocent.

You do try to ignore what happened in the kitchen with Heeseung though, avoiding eye contact with him as he makes his way back out of your room after helping with your sister. You think he’s glaring, maybe, but oh well.

“Anyway, back at home my dad would have never let me wear band shirts.”

“That’s tough.” Jay comments, side eyeing your chest in that top and low-key wondering how nice your tits would look braless, under one of his band shirts. “Bet he didn’t know he raised not one, but two sneaky daughters.”

You smile triumphantly, ignoring the shadow of your sister that they force you into.

“They made it really hard to break rules. Now though? I get to wear stuff like this and hang out with guys like you.”

“Yeah,” Jake trails off, turning his body to peek at you from the end of the bed. “Probably not the smartest move on your part.”

You bring your attention to him, seeing a blur of charming eyes and messy hair.

“What do you mean?”

“What he means is that, it’s probably not ideal to get shit faced then lock yourself in a room with three horny guys.” Sunghoon asserts, pushing off of the dresser and now setting himself on the foot of your bed. “You can’t tell?”

You, for some reason, are astonished at his words. Sunghoon, compared to the other two, seemed more quiet and reserved if you’re being honest. Then again, you’ve only known these guys for a few hours by this point. What you do know about Sunghoon, is that he’s horrifyingly attractive in the way he carries himself, which you can’t really say the same for Jake or Jay.

With his perfected dark hair and tall stance. he looms around with each expression on his face leaving little to the imagination in the way his eyebrows accentuate whatever thought flows behind his eyes. Somehow, he’s still the hardest to read, as you watch him assert his own form of dominance on your bed.

You’re blissfully unaware of how tame Sunghoon was actually being at this moment though. All three of them, they’re competing to see who fucks you first, and whoever wins? Ah, not only do they get a paid night at the bar out of it, but both losers have to fork over another sum of money equal to that of two seasons worth of battle passes to whatever game the winner may choose to play.

“I think this is a good time to hand you my phone, give me your number.” Jay cuts in quite quickly, ignoring the way Sunghoon invites himself into the space he created with you.

Jay doesn’t even let you process his words as he tosses his phone to the side and at you, watching it land on your stomach before sliding off to the other side of you.

“Ah, you’re cute.” He chuckles upon noting your terrible coordination skills of grabbing said phone.

“Well, I’m drunk, so.” You dead-pan, freezing when you feel him lean over you to grab the phone himself, staying there and hovering over you with it in his hand.

You let out a small gasp when you meet his eyes, staring straight through you.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at Jay’s blatant show of interest, and Jake simply watches. Studies how you react to the forwardness.

“Go on.” Jay encourages you, holding the phone directly in front of you, where your eyes are still glued to his confident face, as if he’s not practically caging you in on your own bed like this. “Type it in.”

You do. Somehow managing to type your number perfectly on the screen placed in front of you, and he’s quick to turn the phone to himself, flicking his eyes back and forth between you and the screen as he presses the call button.

Your phone vibrates from the dresser and Jay gives a victorious and somewhat dark smile.

“One for me, zero for the idiots.” He laughs, lending you one more glance, a squeeze of his palm against your waist, and then he’s moving off of you and your bed as a whole. “Call me when you kick them out, I’ll sleep in here tonight.” He adds, leaving no room for argument before leaving the room entirely.

That leaves Sunghoon and Jake, sitting there trying to pretend it wasn’t expected of Jay to at least get your number first. He always starts strong, then again, he also always fumbles hard when things get gritty. In game and out of game.

“What a prick.” Sunghoon sighs, flopping back on the end of your bed and forcing you to shift your legs up and press them together to make room for his broad body.

He turns his face to look at you from down here, watching you spread your legs to look back at him. The motion is innocent at best, because you seem to trust that he’s not trying to be a pervert right now. Oh, but he is.

He looks at you from this angle hard, realizing how easy it could be to shift just a foot in the right direction to have his face right where you’d probably like it.

And you note the way he’s looking at you.

“Do you guys like…” You glance away from him, over to Jake who is now making his own way onto the bed where Jay was lying before. You shift for a moment, feeling like prey. “Do you guys always share a girlfriend?”

Jake snorts.

“Share?!” He laughs at your question more before settling back against your pillows and landing his hand on your thigh. Easy, simple, and obvious. “We don’t share anything.” He explains now, feeling the fabric of your bottoms and pushing your legs closed so that Sunghoon can’t lay down there and think up all sorts of fantasies.

“You’re gonna have to pick.” Sunghoon says in an annoyed tone, glaring at Jake for closing your legs.

He lifts up on his arms now, raising a brow.

“I’ll give you some advice though.” He says, noting how you listen to him more than you do Jake. “Jay has the stamina of a dead horse.”

Snorting only for a moment, you think hard about Jay. Noting his cool and collected demeanor. Uncaring, somewhat cold, but his face seemed warm and endearing when he looked at you from time to time. You could sense the confidence in him from the moment he looked at you when he walked into this house. Instant attraction, without even knowing his name, is what you felt. With that sleek hair style and pretty hands gripping a full bottle of tequila. He probably has more stamina than Sunghoon gives him credit for.

“And Jake.” Sunghoon laughs this time, pointing directly at the guy lying next to you. “Two strokes and he’s out of the game.”

You laugh again looking over to Jake, who stares at Sunghoon with a dark glare.

“What the fuck dude? That was one time!” He defends himself, babbling about how it was the first time he ever had sex, and how he can go way longer now.

“Me, on the other hand.” Sunghoon perks up as he runs his hands through his hair before smiling at you. “I just want to take you on a date.”

Ding ding ding! We have a winner.

“Really?” You ask, floored over possibly landing your first date in years that your parents wouldn’t be attending.

“Of course.” He nods politely, ignoring that Jake is even in the room now. “I’m not the kind of guy who is just trying to get between your legs.” He lies easily, glaring at Jake again for closing your legs earlier.

“So, what do you say?” Sunghoon encourages you to pick him at this moment, and the nod you give has him pulling his own phone out, asking you to tell him your number rather than forcing you to type it into his phone.

You smile as you give him the numbers, not at all seeing Jake try to sneakily type it into his phone as well.

“Good.” Sunghoon says, flopping back on your bed and now using his own hand to part your legs again. You look at him from above and feel elated by how petty and clean cut he is. “Don’t call Jay when I leave, then.”

You hum a confirmation, stretching out your arms and feeling confident as all hell at the way tonight has gone. Up until, well, Sunghoon makes his way out of the room and tries to drag Jake with him. Only because he knows Jake is awful at talking to girls but man, do they swoon if they’re into desperate guys. You seem to be into just about anyone, if Sunghoon is honest with himself.

“Come on, dickhead.” Sunghoon gripes at Jake, grabbing his hoodie and physically trying to drag him out of the room.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jake says, pressing all of his body weight against your mattress and kicking Sunghoon away from him. “Play fair or I’ll tell her about last weekend.”

Sunghoon instantly avoids eye contact with him, knowing that if Jake were to spill the beans on how he forgot to leave the server during his uh…session, a date would be out of the question not only for now, but for good.

“You’re the fucking worst.” He grimaces before releasing Jake’s hoodie and stepping out of the room, only half wondering if he should truly let Jake shoot his shot as well.

Ultimately, Sunghoon finds himself stepping out of the door and directly into Jay.

“Well played.” Jay comments. “Guess I’ll just have to prove to her that you’re full of shit, won’t I?”

Sunghoon smiles a wicked grin, eyes narrowing at Jay.

“You won’t even get the chance.” He says, looking past Jay and down the hallway at Heeseung, who is shooting a death-glare at them. “Oh, check it.” He changes the subject by shoving Jay in the side to look at their friend. “He’s mad.”

Jay turns to look at whatever it is Sunghoon is talking about and simply laughs.

“He can tell something is up. Maybe we should tell him?” Jay asks, crossing his arms in interest.

“Eventually.” Sunghoon laughs as he pushes past Jay and makes his way to the kitchen for another drink.

Jake, on the other hand, is fucking vibrating as he sits alone in this room with you, dodging the questions about what Sunghoon did last weekend to cause such a reaction with an entirely made up sob story.

“Oh my god?” You coo out, turning to face him entirely. “That’s so sad!”

Jake mumbles, nodding his head as if he pities himself with a pout on his face.

“Yeah, I guess that’s just how things go for me though.” He shrugs, blinking at you with the biggest and softest eyes he can manage.

“I can’t believe she did that!” You bellow out now, entirely invested in the backstory of the love life he lost just a few months prior. “With her own cousin, too?!”

Jake nods again with that same pout, looking as defeated as he can, trying to be as charming as he possibly can.

You lean forward to give him a some form of hug at this moment, drunken emotion overtaking you as you sit and watch this poor guy pour his little broken heart out.

“If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend broke up with me because my dad threatened him.”

“No, that’s awful.” He chuckles sadly, shaking his head at you. “We’re both just unlucky, huh?”

He nods his head, seemingly to get you to shadow his actions, and as expected, you do. You nod to confirm his words, still invested in the fact that such a nice looking guy got fucked over like that, only to be made fun of by his friends for it.

So invested that you don’t note the way he keeps his hand on your leg or moves it upwards inch by inch.

“Can we change the subject?” Jake pouts harder, looking at you with sparkling eyes..

“Yeah, of course–”

“You’re really, really, pretty.” He suddenly blurts, looking you in the eye and using his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You totally believed his entire story, if the saddened look in your eye is anything to go by. “I think you should go on a date with me instead.”

You break eye contact, looking down again and only just now noticing his hand on your leg. Only just now noticing that hard-on he’s sporting in his pants.

“Jake.” You say, lifting your eyes back to him. “Are you–hard?” You lift your brows in pity again with the subject change, drunken brain telling you that he’s probably crawling in his skin over how hard he is, and how sad everything is for him.

“Oh, over this?” He asks, dropping his hand and blatantly groping himself. “A little. It always happens when someone as good looking as you gives me the time of day.”

Oh, how sweet. How cute. The fact that Jake gets hard simply over someone being nice to him?

“Well, don’t worry!” You try to perk him up, not at all realizing that he’s full of shit. “I know it’s not because you’re trying to get into my pants or anything. I won’t tell anyone.” You nod to him with a smile before– Uh oh.

“Well, actually–” Jake tries to start, already about to make his move when he notices the color on your face change and you’re fumbling to the bathroom.

And just like that, Jake has failed, as he stumbles out of your bed and to your locked bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” He asks with a sweet and caring voice.

Silence from the other end save for the sound of your sink running full blast probably to mask the sounds of your stomach trying to evacuate the copious amounts of alcohol that’s been fed to you.

So much for the pancakes being a fix-all solution. And with that, Jake leaves the room while pulling out his phone, texting the number he stole when you gave it to Sunghoon.

Jake: hey, don’t be embarrassed about getting sick. I’m gonna crash on the couch so if you need me i’ll be there.

After that, the party is pretty much over. Everyone save for the three perverts, Heeseung, and your sister remain.

This leaves your sister already passed out and tucked into her bed by none other than Heeseung himself, Jay already asleep on the couch, Sunghoon piled up on the floor between the dining room and the living room. Probably to create a barrier that would wake him if Jay really tried to get into your room.

And poor fucking Jake, forced to actually pity himself as he curls his body up on the love seat in the living room, pretending that it’s totally big enough for him to be comfortable here.

Heeseung looms around the house once everything goes silent, checking to be sure no one has passed out or died in a corner before coming back to the living room and staring at all three of his bitch-ass friends.

On one hand, he’s glad they’re in the living room and not in your room. On the other hand, he wants to smother all three of them. One by one.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Heeseung is in his head for a solid three days after the party. So much that his focus is more on you than his games. Which is super fucked up when he thinks about it. That’s why, when your sister heads off to work, he’s plotting in his head every time. He needs you to like him somehow.

The thoughts loop in his mind. From images of him pinning you up and against that kitchen counter again, to the fantasy image of you dropping to your knees in front of him. If anything, it’s not that he needs to fuck you, he just needs you to want him to.

And this is why he finds himself orbiting you. Finding reasons to come into your room, or reasons to get you out of it.

“I’m gonna do some laundry, do you have anything I need to wash?” When you didn’t have anything more than what was already in your basket, he still washed your clothes. He also folded one of his own shirts into your pile just to see if you’d wear it.

“I made some lunch, come eat with me.” You already ate while he was in the office playing his games, which he should have guessed.

“Hey, can you help me wash the dishes?” You had nodded, but never left your room and he ultimately ended up washing and drying them all himself. Waiting, waiting, and fucking waiting.

All three times he tried today, you brushed him off with your eyes glued to your phone.

Something has got to give because it’s starting to get embarrassing how much he thinks about you. With the way he avoided sex last night with his own, very beautiful girlfriend, just to hide in the bathroom at four in the morning getting off with something he absolutely should not have in his possession.

He doesn’t know how fucking long it’s gonna take to get you to break for him but it’s going to happen one way or the other. You don’t have a choice in the matter at this point .

It looks like you won’t even consider him in that pretty little head of yours simply because he’s considered off limits. He’s gonna have to prove you wrong.

Still, he remembers the way you looked at him during your welcome party. So cute and sweet when you’re drunk, so willing to hang out with him. The interest was there. He knows it was.

And now, as he ticks away at the WASD keys on his keyboard, running his little pixel version of himself back and forth between headshots that he misses every time, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jay shouts through the headset. “He was right there!”

Heeseung knows his friends have every reason to rag on him right now. It’s the fifth lost ranked game of the day and he’s rotting inside at the thought of dropping back down to gold.

“Platinum my ass.” Sunghoon pipes in, slamming his mouse on his desk out of sheer annoyance at what happened during the last game. “You didn’t down a single person in the past three games.”

Heeseung sighs, ripping his headset off and closing out the game. He can feel it in his body. The frustration bubbling up to the point that he really only thinks about you and this shit needs to stop now before his precious rank drops so far down that even their bronze boy Jake could boast above him.

He ignores the annoyed shouts from his friends as he disconnects from discord, stands up, and practically storms out of the room and up to your door.

“I’m coming in!” Heeseung gripes.

This is your first time witnessing him in a bad mood, as he does exactly as he says and swings your door open for the fourth time today.

“You and me.” He says, pointing a finger at you “Right now.”

“Right now, what?” You ask in a nonchalant tone.

Which only pisses him off more because, fuck if he knows.

“Get off your phone. We’re hanging out.”

You furrow your brow at him, pointer finger locking the screen of your phone and hiding the string of texts you’d been sharing with one of his very own best friends. Your eyes scan him only for a moment, noting how rushed he appears to be while barging into your room like this.

Large hoodie covering the majority of his body, sweat on his brow probably from all of that screaming you heard in the office earlier, and that same very embarrassing dent on the top of his head from his headset.

As you look at him in all of his gamer boy glory you nod, only because out of all of his friends, you think you’d rather hang out with him because at least he’s not in your texts trying to land a date, or a hookup, or dropping dick pics by “accident”.

He’s just Heeseung, your sister’s loving and very hard to read boyfriend. Who you don’t happen to fully remember is capable of pinning you against the kitchen counter while trying to show you how much worse he is compared to his friends.

“Okay, what do you wanna do?”

He pauses, standing in your room and looking at you lounging on your bed. If he really told you what he’d like to do, it would probably scare you. He needs to think fast, not desperate.

“Uh,” He hums, glancing away from you and lifting his hand up to finally ruffle that embarrassing dent in his hair away. “Have you ever played video games?”

“Yeah. Not the ones you play though.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at sudden small talk.

God, he shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t think you could make yourself any more alluring to him after saying that. While his girlfriend has never once even considered picking up a controller, you have? Oh, shit. Man, that’s so hot.

“Oh yeah?” He perks up in genuine interest, taking a step forward and landing himself on your bed without invitation. “Like what?”

“Party games mostly, I guess. Mario Party, Super Smash Bros, Wii sports, Among us.”

He nods as you list the most mundane games in the industry.

“Did you pick up pretty quickly? Like, did you ever win?” He asks, unaware that this conversation feels like literal foreplay to him, pleased by the fact that there’s suddenly more to like about you than just those tits and face….and personality….and intense need to break rules…and–

“Yeah, I can be kind of competitive.”

“Mm.” Heeseung nods in approval, turned on by the very image of you staring into a screen with dead eyes, fingers smashing on buttons and intensely focused.

“Do you wanna watch me play something?”

“How is that hanging out?” You ask, scoffing at the idea. “Why would I want to watch you have fun?”

Heeseung looks at you. Yeah, that’s fair. He would probably end up ignoring you the whole time anyway, but still. Is it so bad that he asked simply to fulfill the fantasy of having a girl fawn over him and his successes?

“Okay, then what would you want to do?” He shoots back, knowing it’s fair but hating it nonetheless. Wondering if there’s a chance that someday you’ll pile up on his lap and watch him carry the whole team to victory. Boasting for him more than he does for himself.

“Horror movie. I’m sure she’s told you but our parents were very strict about what media we consumed. I have a whole list of horror movies I’m trying to work through, but sometimes it’s kind of difficult to watch by myself.”

Fuck yeah. Maybe it’ll end in that cringe and cliche scenario he’s used time and time again when flirting with girls. Images of you jumping from a jumpscare and grabbing him on instinct. Fantasies of you cuddling up real close. So close that he can smell how much you want him. He could get hard right now just thinking of doing this very thing with you. Plus, he fucking loves horror movies.

“Get your pretty ass in the living room then. ” He nods, smiling at you in a way that hides every thought behind his empty, horny eyes.

And he just gets up and walks out like calling you pretty just now wasn’t at all out of place, he fucking winks at you. It really does throw you off that he just did that so nonchalantly, like he talks to everyone that way when you know for a fact that outside of this house, your sister has to fight him just to get him to wave hello to someone.

You wonder why it feels like maybe you shouldn’t be spending time alone with him. Arguably, you don’t want to admit that it makes you feel good either. Already with three separate, very attractive people, in your texts insisting that you pick them, that you choose them.

All of it is very desperate. Almost as desperate as you are to give in to every single one of them, but you can’t just let them know how sheltered you were and how free you feel the need to be now.

Of course Heeseung, your sister’s boyfriend, calling you pretty would make you feel confident. Like maybe you could be with someone just as attractive as him, or perhaps no longer live in the shadow of everything you wish you could be.

Her. Everything was always about her.

“Oh, your sister got top of her class! She’s gonna be moving out soon!” She really just left you there to suffer alone.

“Ah! Your sister just bought a house! I heard she and her boyfriend might marry soon!”

You scoffed that day when you entered college, no one congratulated you for the countless free rides or multiple acceptance letters. No, it was all about her despite the fact that she lived an hour and a half away and you were right there.

She was only better than and outshined you because she was older and got there first. It was never competitive with you until everyone in your life expected you to outshine, outdo, and outwit her.

Still, you jumped at the opportunity to live here solely to get away from your parents. Solely to try and live outside of everything you could be, only to become whatever the fuck you want to be. And yeah, you love her immensely because she truly is the only person who never expected you to be her. There’s so much resentment but an equal amount of love within you for your sister.

And while Heeseung has no idea of this resentment you have rotting in your chest, you also have no idea that Heeseung believes the one thing you hold over your sister is the fact that you’re just her, except, well…younger, hotter, wilder, prettier, more inexperienced. Cuter voice. Snarkier attitude. Open, and perhaps, willing.

If you knew that, perhaps Heeseung calling you pretty as if it’s his natural born right would become something different in your head. Perhaps you’d want to live in your sister’s shadow just once more. Why not try and take what your sister has? Wouldn’t that be fun?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What a fucking bummer, Heeseung thinks, as he sits on one end of the couch with you on the other. He’s watched you more than the movie at this point, but the clock is tick-tick-ticking, and you’re just sitting there pushing through the horrors with a smile. Something's got to give.

Your sister comes home in three hours, leaving space for just one more movie and he is truly determined to score this win if it’s the last thing he does. The worst part? Morals don’t mean shit if you want him to fuck you.

If there’s one thing Heeseung hates more than losing, it’s one-sided attraction. He knows he’s not the problem, you are for not looking at him long enough. You are for not even considering that he could fuck you better than anyone in all of those porn accounts you follow on twitter. Not that he stalked it or anything (he did.)

And that’s why, as his stare becomes darker, he stands up and scratches the back of his head with a sigh.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, watching you wave him off as if you were totally paying attention to him.

That’s going to change right the fuck now.

He heads to his shared room with your sister, stepping into the walk in closet and examining himself in the wall length mirror before sighing.

Goddamn, he really stopped caring about how he looked once he finally got between your sister’s legs and locked her down. It’s no wonder you gave his friends more attention that night than you’ve ever given to him. He inspects his hair, messy and frizzy from his hoodie being pulled over and off of his head throughout the day. The cowlicks in the back leaving nothing to your imagination in regards to when the last time he washed the fucked-up locks was.

He sighs at himself, licking his palm and trying to tame the cowlick. God, a shower right now would seem ridiculous because he’s supposed to be on the couch with you, standing up the gore and death on screen so your hand will accidentally touch his dick or something.

No good. He needs to backpedal a little bit with his confidence, probably. He steps out of his room, taking his hoodie off at the same time. He rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt now, wanting to at least reveal his shoulders and arms to you. Wanting to parade himself around the house until you drip for him.

“Hey.” He walks back into the living room, still rolling the last bit of his left sleeve up and over his shoulder. “Can you pause the movie for like ten minutes and throw a pizza in the oven or something?”

You look up at him and the way he seems like he’s thinking about something far off from any situation that’s currently happening.

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “We could just keep watching while the pizza cooks though.”

He chuckles, knowing you’d say that and not at all having an excuse.

“I need to take a shower.” He dead-pans, as if it’s not sudden or weird that he’s decided to rudely interrupt the last movie of the night with a shower that could definitely wait.

“Just shower after we finish the movie.” You roll your eyes, still standing to your feet and heading towards the kitchen. “It’s not like your stink will get any worse in the matter of a few hours.”

Oh, so now he smells bad?! Is that why you aren’t into him?

“Or you could stop complaining and make the fucking pizza.” He snaps for the first time with a tone that indicates you should probably listen and do as he says.

“God, what’s your problem?”

“My problem? What’s yours?” He shoots back, far too annoyed that you play hard to get like this. There’s no way you seriously aren’t getting it. “You’re the one sitting around like you’d rather be doing anything else.”

You press the preheat button on the oven, and look at him shocked. Are his–feelings hurt? Are you really acting like a bitch, or uninterested in getting to know the man your sister will probably spend her life with?

Were you really acting like you weren’t having a good time? God, you must be such a drag.

“What? I was having fun, Heeseung, I like watching movies with you.” You try to explain, but he cuts you off.

“Fucking act like it then.” He gripes before turning on his heel and leaving you alone in the kitchen.

It’s not like you knew he expected you to be interested in friendship with him or anything. You were just…hanging out. You really didn’t know it was supposed to go differently in his head, and the fact that it appears that he does have a specific expectation? You wonder how to fulfill it.

After all, you’re trying to avoid showing all the interest you actually have for him when you’re hanging out. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? And well, by the time he’s out of the shower and presenting himself to you, you think you might have a better idea as to what he’s thinking. Is he trying to impress you right now?

You can smell his cologne mixed with a minty scented shampoo. His hair looks blow dried. His skin is glistening, and he’s fucking shirtless.

He watches when he sits down, this time closer to you on the couch presumably so you could share the pizza sitting on the coffee table just in front of you then he checks the clock. Only about thirty minutes wasted out of the remaining time he has with you alone, and then he checks you. Staring. Damn right.

To you, he looks different.

Not just handsome, or kind of endearing in a loser way. But he actually looks sexy sitting there, with those loose gray sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination in terms of size, and his exposed torso makes it harder to keep your eyes to yourself.

His broad shoulders seem to accentuate his neck much more than you imagined considering you never have seen him lounge around like this, and his hair is no longer dented. It’s washed, fresh, and looks fucking good on him.

Then, his smirk. It’s permanent on that knowing face of his.

“What are you looking at?” He side eyes you, totally ignoring the pizza because he wasn’t actually hungry.

He feels a victory welling up in his chest at the way you look at him though, seeing you already get so flustered? So easy.

“Um,” You pause, tearing your eyes away in embarrassment. “Nothing.”

He chuckles once in a short breath before stretching himself back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs wide and taking dominance over the space in the room.

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” He flirts easily, testing the waters of how willing you are to admit that he’s getting his way. “You were checking me out.”

You face forward now, shifting closer to the arm of the couch and pretending like you can't feel the warmth of the hot water he must have used radiating off of him.

“Of course not!” You laugh nervously, lunging forward for the remote again. “Why would I check you out?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes at your shitty attempt to lie.

“Because I took my shirt off for you.” He says, turning his head to look at you with a malicious smirk. “Was that not obvious?”

You turn to look at him in surprise. Why the fuck would he even say that to you?!

“Do you like me better this way? Half naked?”

“What are you talking about?” You avoid him like your life depends on it, not wanting to admit that you definitely find him more attractive right now than you ever have, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this only further pushes you to want what you can’t have.

“You think I’m hot, don’t you?” He presses, bouncing his leg and keeping his eyes on the way your chest heaves at his words.

“You want me, don’t you?” He continues pressing, repeating the question in a way that makes you feel forced to agree with him.

“You’re gonna think about me the next time you–”

“Heeseung!” You shout, turning your entire body towards him with heat searing on your cheekbones. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re dating my sister.” You try to bring both him and yourself back to reality with that statement, more upset internally at the fact that you’re right about it.

He’s dating your sister and yet, he’s…doing this. To you. And you fucking like it?

“Yeah, no shit.” He laughs you off, looking down at his lap and feeling a twitch at the way you don’t leave the room. Proving in some way that you definitely like it. “And I’m still right, aren’t I? You’re just playing hard to get.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded and utterly shocked by his blatant attempts to come onto you. Unfortunately, you’ve never been in this situation before and your eyes tell on you the same way your body language does. Of course he’s right, and you know you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it.

“Ah, Yeah.” He smiles, watching how you try to keep your eyes on his face but failing. “I’m right.” He continues, lifting his ass just slightly to accentuate the shape of his cock under these sweats for you to get a good eye full.

You swallow, looking away from him and squeezing your legs together. It feels like such a sudden change of atmosphere. What was once a deniable crush on him becomes a confusing whirlwind wet panties and zero morality.

Does he get off on trying to rile you up? There’s no fucking way he’d actually go through with any of this. He’s just doing it because he thinks it’s cute that you want him. Right?

You know for a fact that if Jay talked to you this way, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. But this is Heeseung. Not Jay, not Jake, not Sunghoon, with their shitty attempts at trying to pull off the exact thing. Oh god, this is bad. This is so bad.

“I’m going to my room.” You swallow around the thick words, not at all wanting to leave the room solely because your body is giving in instantly to the fact that Heeseung is dirty talking to you for no goddamn reason.

Perhaps it’s the fact that the one thing your sister has that you shouldn’t ever be able to obtain is doing this. Never did you think a mere idea that he’s attractive would turn into a split second decision of wanting him to fuck you.

“No, you’re not.” He chuckles, spreading his legs a bit wider now and looking down at his lap, the same exact spot your eyes are looking at. “You’re going to try and keep your eyes on the screen, and we’re going to finish this movie.”

Safe to say, that was a harder demand to follow than you anticipated and he seemed to fucking love raising his brow at you each time he caught your eye on him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By the time your sister returned home and essentially tamed her boyfriend from acting out any longer, you felt…insane. She tamed him without even knowing that he was acting out, not double-taking at all when she walked in to him spread out and shirtless on the couch with you struggling to watch the movie. You felt his confidence radiating, making the living room feel suffocating and unstable in terms of if you belong there or not.

You find yourself in your room now, cuddling up in your bed with thoughts ruminating on how you have not one, not two, not three, but four men throwing themselves at you. You don’t recall ever actually giving them the idea that this is okay. Or maybe you did? You’re not sure.

You scroll through your text messages, old friends from back home falling into the background each time you open a message from Jake, or the other two that consistently check in with you like you’re some sort of prize to be won.

Maybe you want to be a prize for some handsome guy to flaunt though, and you embody all of that confidence you got from, somehow, having the one man you’re not supposed to ever obtain parading around for you.

You embody it to text back. To be bold. To give in to the arousal that just slammed you in the gut, reeling from the very idea that there are men in this world who want to fuck you and you’re about fed up with pretending it’s a lie.

You: are you done with your game?

You send the same message separately to all three of Heeseung’s friends, and somehow you’re still unaware that they all three share the information with each other in discord.

“Are you done with your game?” Jake mimics in a feminine tone. “She’s playing with all of us.”

Jay chuckles through the mic, damning them to be second and third place as he quickly texts back.

Jay: no, but I can be. Why?

“To be fair, we’re kind of playing with her too.” Sunghoon cuts in, responding in his own way to your text and telling you that he’s bored, that he’s waiting on you to give him a date and time to pick you up, that he’s annoyed with his friends.

“Well, yeah!” Jake bellows through the muffled mic. “I mean, look at her.”

“Oh, I’ve looked.” Sunghoon smiles at himself before snapping his eyes to the discord and noting how Jay has muted himself.

“That mother fucker.”

Jake follows suit, noting exactly what Sunghoon is calling out before lending a groan of his own.

“He’s trying so hard.” He rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that Jay is probably already mid text-conversation with you.

And he would be right, as you lay against your pillows and let Jay’s conversation overpower the two other unopened texts from his friends.

You: im a little overwhelmed right now, not sure how to explain it.

Jay: overwhelmed how?

You: well…

You take a second to yourself to breathe, feeling your entire body radiate with a feeling that can only resemble that of want, or perhaps need. You’ve sexted multiple times in your life, but never in a situation where you’re sexting because you’re overwhelmed more than just aroused.

It’s the fact that you’re bringing it up this time after playing uninterested since any of them started texting you. You’ve dodged Jake’s dick pics, you’ve pushed off the date you agreed to go on with Sunghoon, and you’ve even gone as far as telling Jay you’re not interested at all.

Now though? You can imagine what he’d think of you to see you bring it up. Do you care though? Not that much. After all, you’re single, you’re consumed by the ability to do whatever you want, and Jay’s hot.

You: im frustrated.

You: REALLY frustrated.…sexually

Jay: oh yeah? for me?

You stare at the screen, sending him an emoji that confirms your words for a third time before swiping away and looking at your inbox of available men. You know who else is hot? Sunghoon.

You: hey if we went on a date, where would you take me?

Sunghoon: probably a movie or something idk, why? what would you wanna do?

You: id wanna go to your house

Sunghoon: and why is that, cutie?

And as you pick up conversations with both men, reeling from the attention, you think…hmm, you wanna know who else is hot? Jake.

You: Jakeeeee

Jake: whaaaat :)

You: remember that dick pic you sent to me then begged me to delete because it was an accident?

Jake: …

You: i didn’t delete it.

Jake: you like it?

You: maybe.

And you guess this is who you are now, plotting and setting up some form of sexting situation with three different men, who are all very close friends, who all very much seem to reciprocate your advances.

It’s actually pretty cool, as you lay here reading words from a different man every two minutes. Jay telling you exactly how he could help you with that frustration, Sunghoon asking you to explain what you’d wanna do in his house with him, and then Jake blatantly sending his cock to you again like he has nothing better to do.

It’s all fun and games until things start to get real heated and you get kind of into it. Focusing on Jay’s little message of, “im helping you out here, you should help me too. send pics.”

You ask yourself why you consider doing it before swiping away and landing on a video of Jake, face bright and smiling before lowering the camera. Blatantly fucking himself just because you said he had a nice dick.

Your body is feeling permanent goosebumps because of those two, overwhelming you more than you could have imagined to see just how far they’d be willing to go to try and convince you to do the same for them.

Sunghoon brings a different form of arousal in his inbox though. Far more tame than the others, asking you to push, telling you to say all of the dirty things rather than him. Pushing for a date.

Sunghoon: keep talking to me like this, ill come get you right now.

You: not yet, just this for now.

Sunghoon: no pressure, are you touching yourself at least?

You: I am

Sunghoon: yeah? thinking about me too right?

You: yea

You’re lying. Kind of. Half-lying, at least, because you are thinking about him but you’re also thinking about Jake, and Jay, and sending nudes, and– Heeseung.

You’re thinking about Heeseung, and only because you can hear the shuffling in the room a wall over. Then? Thumping, right behind you as you lay in your bed. At this moment, you should be able to focus on the men blatantly trying to fuck you, but instead you’re reminding yourself of how Heeseung looked earlier.

And you’re listening. Thumping, thumping, thumping, until you hear–

“Don’t cover your mouth, she’s probably asleep anyway.” You hear Heeseung bellow out in a far-away voice.

Great. They’re fucking. Just fucking great. Well, now what? You think, as you thumb back and forth between messages with frustration.

Your mind reels as you listen though. Imagining Heeseung more than anything being the force behind those thumps on your wall. His voice almost croaked when he regarded you directly to your sister while fucking her. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? All it took was a single day of marathoning movies?! A single shower?!

God, you’ve got to seem desperate to be reacting this way. He probably thinks that shit is funny. And as you now shove your headphones in your ears so as to not hear anymore of it, you stand on your feet and walk to your bathroom. You’re too interested in being fucked now, might as well give the boys something to look at, right?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“She really is trying to get away with it.” Sunghoon says, dumbfounded by the receipts provided by all three boys in their own private group chat.

Without Heeseung.

“Yeah, but she sent me an ass pic.” Jay boasts, smiling to himself and silently saving the other provided images that you sent to his friends.

“Whatever, I’m picking her up today for what she wants to call a “date”. She literally said she wanted me to pull her hair.”

Jake gasps, offended.

“What the fuck? She said she wanted to pull my hair!” He groans. “Why am I the one she thinks would like that?! I have a big dick! I could–”

“Anyway,” Jay cuts him off. “She really is just like her sister. Heeseung doesn’t even know how I’ve seen his precious girlfriend’s pussy, only a matter of time before I’m seeing her little sister’s too.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, ignoring Jake’s huffing and puffing as he does his best not to laugh at Jay’s almost victory over your sister.

“Well, I’m getting the girl this time.” He says, opening his texts and reading through the presumed masturbation session he shared with you last night. “Said she couldn’t wait to see me.”

“I’m sure she could though.” Jay says, competitive, wanting to win. “You’ll see.”

Sunghoon can sense the competition in the air, knowing that Jay is probably coming up with some lame ass plan to get in your pants before he can even get the chance to pick you up tonight.

And then there’s Jake.

“You know, maybe she’s right.” He rambles on, thinking hard about how your dynamic with the other two seems to differ greatly from the way you speak to him. “I do have better hair than both of you combined.”

And they stay like that, roasting each other while simultaneously lusting over the same girl until Heeseung gets online and pings them in the regular group chat for a round of gameplay.

“What’s up, virgins?” Heeseung greets, booting up his game and noting the silence in the voice chat.

“I said, what’s u–”

“We heard you.” Sunghoon chimes in, preparing himself for a direct mission of humbling the fuck out of him. “Call me a virgin all you want, doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting my dick wet tonight.”

“Please.” Heeseung laughs, rolling his eyes as he waits for them to get into the game lobby. “Who would stick your dick in them anyway?”

“Your girlfriend’s little sister.” Sunghoon announces.

Excuse me?

“In your dreams.” Heeseung tries to laugh, but is interrupted yet again by his two other friends laughing first. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Sunghoon hums a confirmation, which leads Heeseung to wonder what the fuck happened in the span of one single night. He could have sworn he had you in the palm of his hand on that couch. He knew you heard how good he fucks your sister.

There’s no way.

“Nah, she’s already got a crush on someone else.” He continues to brush Sunghoon off. “And it’s not you.”

“Yeah, because it’s me.” Jay laughs, bombarding Heeseung with another low blow. “Why else would she take her shorts off for me?”

Anger? Yes. Jealousy? Also yes.

“Bullshit.” Heeseung calls out, staring at his discord and the way his friend’s names light up every time they laugh.

“What are they trying to do, Jake? Spill.”

Jake silences his laughing.

“Oh, you think he didn’t get nudes too?” Jay laughs harder. “She sent them to all three of us last night. Different pictures too, she wasn’t skimping on the goods, I can tell you that much.”

Heeseung takes a moment to breathe through his nose. “And just why did she send you nudes?”

“I didn’t even ask for them, Hee, honest!” Jake tries to get on his good side. “I guess showing her my dick did something for her though.” That did not get him on Heeseung’s good side.

“Why the fuck is she sending you guys nudes?” He asks again, this time slightly raising his voice.

You should have been sending him nudes to prove your insatiable lust that you must have. Right? Like, why not him? If anyone?

“Oh, right.” Sunghoon finally reveals the truth. “First person to fuck her wins.”

“Is that so?” Heeseung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes at their stupid usernames.

Competition is what he’s best at.

“Yeah.” Sunghoon confirms. “And by the end of the night, I’ll be the winner.”

“That’s what he thinks, anyway.” Jay snickers. “She’s already texted me a cute little good morning like she didn’t sext three guys last night.”

“Mhm.” Jake hums into the mic. “Me too.”

Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion at that, now checking his phone and noting that he hasn’t received his own good morning from you yet. Weird.

“You guys are aware that you can’t do that, right?” Heeseung chimes in, knowing that he’s playing their game now. And he’s good at playing games. “You seriously can’t be trying to rail my girlfriend’s sister.”

“Yeah. We are, actually.” Jay overtakes the conversation. “Besides, she wants it.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You wake up feeling insanely embarrassed by how you acted like night.

Tonight’s date with Sunghoon probably won’t happen. There’s no way you can live up to the confidence you showed him.

You: hey can we raincheck?

Sunghoon: no wtf?

He reacts negatively, because his victory is now being ripped from his hands by the prize herself. It’s not even just like, the fact that he wants to fuck you just to say he did it before anyone else could. It’s the fact that you’re kind of cool. Incredibly hot, and super willing to slut yourself out.

Just his type. He loves being able to tame girls and keep them locked between his legs, with his cock in their throat.

You: sorry i just don’t feel good today, can try this weekend?

Sunghoon sighs, sending you a short approval before focusing back on the intense game playing out on his screen.

“She canceled on me.” Sunghoon complains, shooting a player dead between the eyes before crouching and running off to find his next kill of frustration. “Jay, what did you fucking do?”

Jay snorts, smirking on his end of the screen, camping like an asshole in a bathroom and waiting for some unsuspecting dad of six to run by and get his cheeks clapped by some idiot with the username of DADDYJAY02.

“Told her I’d fuck her real good if she cancels.” He jokes, mostly focused on the current game at hand.

Heeseung is pleased to learn that you’re skipping the date though, leading him to believe that maybe he was right in thinking he’s got you in the palm of his hand.

Still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got nudes in your phone. Nudes that you sent to three fucking losers that couldn’t even come close to doing what he could do for you.

“He’s talking shit. She hasn’t left her room all morning.” Heeseung says. “I already told you guys that she has a crush on someone, and it’s not any of you. So, you can go ahead and kiss your bullshit sex-game goodbye.”

Jake pipes in now, listening to the sheer amount of confidence coming from Heeseung and Jay.

“I dunno.” He breathes, picking people off one by one in his own, less-than-great playstyle. “She’s still texting me and being all cute. Maybe she just thinks you guys are weird.”

“What did she say?” Heeseung asks, now more focused on what Jake might say rather than the fact that Jay just got downed and needs help.

“Something about how she feels embarrassed about everything but likes talking to me, heart emoji and all.” He says in a nonchalant tone, now being downed himself in game. “Me and Jay are down.”

“Stay down then.” Heeseung scoffs, ignoring both dying friends as he focuses on the win.

“Dude, fucking pick me up.” Jay now argues, throwing his hands up at the gameplay, watching Heeseung blatantly run straight past him. “Heeseung! Pick me the fuck up!”

He snickers in response.

“Stop trying to fuck her and I’ll pick you up.”

“I’d rather die.” Jay argues back, accepting his in-game death and instead pulling his phone out to text you. “In fact, I’ll text her right now.”

Sunghoon, listening to the chaos and still neck-to-neck in terms of kills with Heeseung, tries to ignore the fact that he’s losing the only game he cares about winning right now.

“All three of you are starting to get annoying.” Sunghoon mumbles into the microphone, killing the last remaining player and stretching his arms out in a sigh.

“You’re just mad because she’s ghosting you for me.” Jake sings out happily.

Heeseung listens, seething in his head about how they’re really just gonna keep doing this shit and decides, fine.

He’s already playing the game they’re playing. He’s been playing it for much longer, actually, with those panties he took from your dresser when he built it. With the way he placed your bed against the same wall his bed is against, just so you could listen and suffer for his cock to stuff you full instead.

If it’s a fucking competition they want, they’re gonna get it.

And with that? He logs off without so much as a goodbye before heading to his bathroom. For the first time in years caring more and more about how he dresses and carries himself just to see you want him.

He styles his hair, brushes his teeth, perfects his hair with the hood up on his hoodie, and then heads straight to your room.

“Hey, Sunghoon said he’s supposed to be going on a date with you tonight.” He says as soon as he gets to your door.

You look panicked.

“Oh, he told you?” You say, avoiding eye contact with him because goddamn does he look good today but also, what the fuck Sunghoon?!

“Yeah.” He answers in a less than entertained tone.

“Did he–” You pause, now looking at him and his stupid attractive stance against your door. “–say anything else?”

“Oh, he told me all about it.” He admits to you now, loving the way you curl into your own embarrassment. “I did warn you, you know.”

You blink at him, wanting to hide from the entire situation. Especially because the only reason you went for his friends was because he got you all choked up.

“Still, I thought you’d tame yourself a little bit. I mean– Jay too? Really?” Heeseung starts to pick you apart with the information he’s learned today. “And Jake?”

You groan out, covering your face with both hands.

“God, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You try to explain. “I just–”

“You were wet.” He answers for you, smiling at the way you try to run from the truth. “So wet for me that you ran to my friends?”

Only now do you move your hands from your face and look at him. Shocked that he got straight to the point, and is entirely correct.

“You got their hopes up, you know.” He continues, taking control of the situation as he crosses his arms and leans his head back and against your doorframe. “Right after getting my hopes up.”

“What are you–”

“You know what I’m talking about, and you know exactly what I’m doing.” He cuts you off, speaking for you, thinking for you, not letting you get a word in to doubt a single thing he’s saying. “You know what you’re doing too. So, look at me next time I come in here and call you out on your bullshit.”

Your eyes stay on him, full of embarrassment and a sense of guilt. You feel scolded, which is so fucking wrong and weird for it to come from him of all people.

“Time to stop pretending now, babe. If you want this–” He says, looking down between his legs and grabbing his bulge. “You’ll stay away from my friends.”

And then he just…leaves with a smile? Doesn’t even let you respond?

“I’m going to the store, we don’t have shit to eat in this house.” You hear him complain as he walks down the hallway, acting as if he didn’t just word-fuck you with the truth that you weren’t quite ready to accept.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re losing it. Truly, you’re losing every ability in your body to ignore the fact that you not only think about Heeseung in ways you shouldn’t, you want him in ways that should be a fucking crime.

Seeing him grab himself like that in your doorway? Fuck, if he hadn’t of walked away right after, you very well may have found yourself with your ankles up by your ears, begging him to use it on you.

No self restraint at this point, and you don’t even care.

Your phone is long forgotten as you pace your room, wondering if you should leave the house too, just to find a sex shop that has a Heeseung sized and shaped cock for you to fuck yourself on in order to get this intense feeling of need out of you.

That’s really all it took for him to make you go fucking feral for it? A little bit of flirting? A little bit threatening? A grab of his cock, practically dangling it in front of you like the two of you are allowed to be having those kinds of moments together?

Fuck him for knowing how to get you horny more than you know how to do it yourself. Since when did you like men to act that way towards you? Since fucking when did you get off on a boyfriend that your sister intends to fucking marry?!

It’s so fucked up, and it’s equally fucking hot to you because it’s fucked up.

Out of everything your sister has that you don’t, Heeseung is the one you want most. And he’s just fucking…he’s just–

God damn it. You sigh, pacing back and forth, checking the time on your phone and ignoring all of your unread texts. Heeseung has only been gone for a total of ten minutes and it feels like you’ve been pacing for hours.

Throbbing between your legs at the small glimpses of his size under whatever pants he wears. With his hair, and his skin, and his stupid, shit-eating smirk that he throws at you. Telling you he knows. Showing you that he likes it.

You stop your pacing for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut tight to try and flutter the images of him out of your head. Trying to get the reality to come back to you.

What’s fucked up is that it is reality that he’s doing this to you. You can’t avoid it like it’s a guilty little wet dream you’d be able to hide.

It’s real.

And, well, fuck it. You love your sister just as much as you always have, even as you want to fuck her boyfriend. Even as her boyfriend seemingly wants to fuck you.

Even as you leave your room, entering their room for the first time.

Even as you inspect their bed, the placement suspiciously right on the other side of your own bed against the wall.

Even as you smell the familiar scent of Heeseung on one of the pillows and instantly throw yourself on the bed against it, shoving it between your legs in a desperate and obvious show of how much you really, really, fucking want it.

And if this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind? So be it.

His pillow is soft, offering little pressure to your clit as you writhe against it, but you moan louder than you ever have while pleasuring yourself. For once, the house is empty and for once, you have a point of arousal that doesn’t involve porn.

Your mind falls into images of him, and the way he moves his body during every day instances. Then, to the way he sounded when he fucked your sister in this very same bed. He must fuck hard, because that consistent thumping on your wall seemed to prove it already.

Fuck, you hope he fucks hard.

You saw the outline of it a few times by now too, so big even while flaccid and uninterested in you. He must know how to contain himself too. Real calm, real collected when it comes to how he’d probably use it.

The images swim up and down behind your eyes as you writhe your clit against the corner of his pillow for what feels like ages, knowing your panties are being pushed into the folds of your wet core, feeling your shorts skew as you move, back and forth, stretching with each grind forward.

You’re aware that parts of your pussy are out in the open between grinds, feeling the soft material of his pillow rub you only slightly raw with the force of your movements, and you simply don’t care. You’re home alone, remember?

Wait. How long have you been doing this again?

“Oh, fuck yeah.” You hear from behind you, startling you into a defensive position of curling around the pillow. “Bumping it real good, weren’t you? Right up on my pillow?” Heeseung laughs, standing just inside of the room with a step much quieter than he’d normally have when he’s walking around.

“Fuck, that’s so gross.” He snickers with hooded eyes and a triumphant smirk as he crosses his arms.

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Like I wouldn’t be able to smell it? I smelled you when I walked in.”

God, the fucking horror that replaces the arousal hits you harder than you ever knew it could as you jump to your feet on buckled knees and try to mutter out an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

He just said you were gross. He said he could smell you while scrunching his nose.

“I’m sorry, Heeseung, I’m sorry.” You continue, trying to make your way past him ultimately so you can lock yourself in your bedroom to never come out.

“Hmm, what makes you think you could just come in here and fuck my things?” He isn’t going to let you go that easy, of course he isn’t.

The thing about him is, he knows he’s got you now. That little sex bet going with his friends? They’re done for.

Full control of the whole situation is right here in the palm of his hand, and the proof is that embarrassing wet spot you left on his pillow. This was all he needed. You made him chase, and he’ll be damned if he gives you what you want now so easily.

It’s your turn to ache with the same feeling between your legs. You’re going to be fucking gone by the time he finally gives it to you.

“I thought y–” You try to explain, not looking him in the eye when he holds you in place by the arm from leaving.

“Thought I wanted you over her?” He mutters to you in a hot whisper, pulling you back and against him, dipping his head and chasing your line of sight to force you to look at him. “Oh my god, how sad.”

You try look away, entirely confused, embarrassed, fucking ashamed.

Never have you let guilt take you over like this because you’ve never allowed yourself to be in a position to feel so goddamn stupid.

He’s going to tell her what you did. You might as well go pack your shit now and get ready to go back home because this was not okay.

“I’m sorry. I misread…” You’re being forced to look at him, but you still keep your eyes on the bottom of his chin rather than his eyes, feeling his hands squeeze you, not at all noticing how rock fucking hard he is due to the sheer terror you feel at this moment.

“Mm, no you didn’t.” He explains, eyes scanning over your flushed face, tears prickling in your eyes.

And once again, fucking confusion. The weight of guilt lifts off of you at his words, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes this time. Urging him to tell you that he does want you. That everything you thought previously was true.

That he was trying to come onto you.

“You were throwing your legs open for just anyone.” He lands the blow harshly, with his breath hitting you square in the forehead. “I just wanted to see if you were really as slutty as Jay said you were.”

A direct blow to any confidence you ever could have had walking around this house.

You fell for it. Your sister is dating a piece of shit, and somehow you still find him so attractive. You still wish he was lying.

You still wish he liked you, or wanted you on some level.

“God, such a cry baby too.” He rolls his eyes now, breathing in deep before releasing his hold on you. “Go cry in your room, I’m sure you still have an orgasm to get, don’t you?”

You refuse the eye contact again as you try to walk away in a way that you wish could make you disappear. He’s making damn sure to shame you straight into the dirt, and it makes you feel so unclean.

“Don’t you?” He repeats with a louder voice as you walk away, stepping into your room, and closing the door behind you.

Yeah, you’re still probably going to get that orgasm. He knows it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Heeseung is a nightmare to be around. You’re annoyed that you didn’t notice it before and actually wanted to be around him before that mishap with his pillow.

You can’t read him.

When your sister is home, he ignores you for the most part. He spends his time on his PC yelling with friends, he scoffs at you, looks at you like you look and sound ridiculous any time you say something, yet, when he’s with your sister, he’s so, so, loving.

All over her, really. Hands on her waist, back, thighs, ass. He’s so sexual with her in front of you, to the point that you can’t make eye contact at all with either of them.

To the point that you miss it every time when he checks to see if you’re watching.

What’s worse about Heeseung is that you think now that he has no interest in you. Everything he did really was for an ego boost, or like some shitty game he was playing. It got to the point that, yeah, you’re sexting at least one of his friends as often as possible despite never giving them a reason to come over, and certainly not going to see them yourself.

It’s like a bandaid as you lay in your bed night after night listening to Heeseung on the other side of the wall draw you into a state of lust, pining, and absent passion. So vocal, when he’s fucking her. You always feel alone when he does it, with your fingers slamming away and offering pleasure that never gets you there. You always come up short, never being able to get off.

Even with all of that, he still flirts.

Which fucks you up even more. He’ll make you feel so awful about everything that’s happened, everything you actively say or do, and then turn around and smile at you when your sister is at work.

He’ll offer to make dinner for you. He’ll do your laundry and fold it, always mixing his clothes into the pile by accident. He’ll touch your waist. He’ll brush his hand past yours when he catches you in the hallway while walking by.

When you try to flirt back, or look at him for too long though? Hope in your eyes and weight lifting from your shoulders at his hidden actions? He shuts you down instantly.

Like this morning, when you left your room and went to the kitchen to make coffee, he was already there. He came up behind you real close, rubbing what you presume to be his soft dick against your ass as he lifted and grabbed the filters down for you.

And when you choked up and looked at him? He could see that little glint of hope in your eyes.

“I was just helping. Jesus christ, you’re more needy than your sister.”

Or that time yesterday, when you were lounging on the couch and he came out after a shower in those same fucking sweat pants, without a shirt again, and sat down next to you. Spreading his legs wide, smirking, and watching you try to avoid his eyes.

“Can’t even look at me without getting wet, huh?”

Safe to say, Heeseung is playing the game with his friends a little too hard. Knowing that at any point during the day if he wanted to push you to the floor and take you, he fucking could.

So that leaves you now, sitting here feeling about as crazy as you did the day you ran into his room and started fucking his pillow. Every day is felt with sexual frustration that you don’t know what to do with, even sexting his friends, even receiving their videos and hot words, even with their promises of multiple orgasms and hour long sessions of head, your frustration isn’t satiated.

You worry it never will be if Heeseung doesn’t move out, or like, fall out a window or something.

And as you leave your room to go back to the kitchen for a snack, of course you note the open door of the office that is far too silent compared to thirty minutes earlier.

Of course, Heeseung has trained you to be entirely too curious about what he’s doing at all times when the two of you are alone.

Of course, you don’t turn and walk away the moment you see his back turned, shoulder moving, and a brightly colored hentai flashing across his monitor.

In fact, you stand there solely because you can’t deny yourself of this.

“Was wondering if you’d come in here.” He mutters through a breath, turning his face for a moment before pumping his hand harder. “S’only fair that I let you watch too, right?”

He’s bringing up the pillow incident. Again. Like he hasn’t brought it up a million times since it happened as a form of shaming you. Telling you how it smelled, laughing and asking how many times you planned to do it behind his back.

You’re still frozen though, coming to terms with the fact that he could call you an ugly whore and you’d probably accept it at face value just to watch the very scene in front of you.

Are you selfish or are you just desperate?

Maybe a bit of both.

“Come over here.” He says to your silence, now swiveling his chair around and ignoring the animated fuck-fest on screen.

You take in an inhale, trying not to show it by looking away from him, but ultimately failing when your eyes fall straight to where his hand is in his pants. The tent created by the sheer size of him leaving far too much for you to think about.

Anyone in this situation would call him a loser. Jerking it to hentai? Looking the way he does? Being unemployed and doing this at like, eleven in the morning? You can tell he hasn’t slept too, and that’s entirely something a simp would do. Something a virgin would do.

But, you want him. You’ve never been so attracted to someone, actually. He sees you swallow at the image too, smirking and stilling his hand.

“Shit, you’re really just going to watch me?”

Yeah. You figured that was obvious to him, considering he already thinks you’re gross, embarrassing, and shameless. It’s not like you not watching at this point would change his mind about you.

So, you just stand there, watching, waiting.

Until he gives you a breathless chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Come on, get a better look then.” He encourages you through a soft moan, sliding his fingers on the underside of his length, feeling the pre-cum drip out.

There it is again. Him acting interested.

It’s really the worst because you give in every single time, clinging to the hope that maybe he really is interested this time, only to be shot down time and time again.

Right now is no different from the countless other times he’s flirted just to laugh at you trying to flirt back. Even as you walk towards him with shaking hands gripping the bottom of your own shirt for comfort, you know he’s probably just going to pull his hand out of his pants and probably present a very large cucumber or something before laughing at the fact that you really thought.

Except, he doesn’t do that.

You can see the wet spot at the top of the tent his cock creates, right where the head rubs up against the fabric and it proves that he’s really touching himself right now.

“Lower.” He instructs under hooded eyes, head leaned back against his chair, body slouched and relaxed. “On the floor.”

Ah, the fucking power he has is electrifying. You really just do everything he says in the hopes that someday, he’ll put it in you. In the hopes that someday, he will show you what it is that your sister loves so much about him.

The way you do lower yourself to your knees on his floor, sitting right there in front of him with your eyes glued to the hidden act of what he’s doing to himself? God, you’re dirty.

He chews on his lower lip as he works himself up to the image of you simply on your knees, gripping your shirt like it’s the only thing holding you from falling off of the earth. So pretty, so complacent, so willing.

Fuck, he knows his friends want you and he can imagine that they must furiously get off to this very image themselves, thought up all by themselves. Except they’ve actually seen your body, Heeseung hasn’t seen shit.

“Take it off.” He says through a breath, the words shaking with each pump of his fist as he tries to stimulate the whole length of his cock without pulling it out.

It’s a tight fit in his pants right now, but he isn’t going to show you a damn thing.

You blink up at him, your eyes shining and bright at the fact that you’re fine not seeing it. You seem totally satisfied just watching him pleasure himself.

Oh god, you’re fucking perfect.

Even more perfect when you do remove your shirt, tits sitting nice and naked for him to stare at harder. Big. Plush. Prettier than the ones that are drawn to perfection by horny men on his screen just to the side of him. Prettier than your sister’s, even.

“Ah, yeah.” He comments, hand pumping faster, cock leaking more. “Just sit right there and look pretty for me.”

And, you do. Hands now pressed into the carpet beneath you, gripping the texture much like you did your shirt just to press your tits together for him. Just so he wants you right now, even if he won’t ten minutes from now.

He really does just watch you too. The image of you alone like this seemingly just enough to get him there when you notice his head slam back against the headrest of his chair again.

Bottom lip bitten, eyebrows raised, a held breath, and then he’s releasing that same breath along with his cum. All into his hand and against his pants as he pumps harder through the sensitivity of his orgasm.

Eyes falling back to you, darker this time, he smirks as he slides his hand from his pants, careful not to lose any of that thick, milky, cum, and tipping his fingers at you.

“Ahh-” He opens his mouth, speaking to you as if he’s feeding you a snack, and for some reason, you mimic it.

Your mouth opens as you lean forward and he slips his fingers in, relishing in the feeling of your frantic tongue licking up the taste of him.

So desperate, god, you want it so bad and he can see it.

He can feel it.

And by the time you’ve licked his fingers clean, eyes tearing up because you know he’s about to mock you for how much you loved the taste of it, he pulls his hand back and says nothing.

He doesn’t even smile at you when he stands up, staring down at you like he owns you.

You’re just sitting on the floor shirtless, avoiding his eye contact and preparing for whatever fucked up thing he wants to say about it, salty sweet remnants of his flavor in your mouth, and near tears in your eyes.

“You really did that.” He says before stepping to the side of you and heading for the door. “Swallowed all of it too.”

You did, and of course you’re ashamed despite sitting here wet and aching. You nod as you stare at the floor in shame, hands clasped in your lap.

“Good girl.” He breathes out to you before leaving for the bathroom, not another word muttered to you.

And as Heeseung stands looking at himself in the mirror, chest heaving as he reels from what just took place, he smiles. God, the horror you must feel right now. If you knew how much he liked this and how willing you were to take what you can get, you’d probably be the happiest girl alive.

You’re so willing to feel ashamed, so willing to be shamed, just to look at him? Just to see him do this? Just to suck all of his cum off of his fingers?

You’re fucking crazy.

If you knew how he silently jerked off, breathing in that pillow you had against your pussy, you’d probably orgasm on the spot. If you fucking knew how he stole your panties the very day you moved in, you’d probably give him the ones you’re wearing now just to please him.

Ah, so perfect. It’s only a matter of time now.

Only a matter of time before he wins and shuts his friends up for fucking good, because honestly, it’s getting old now to hear his friends pretend they have a shot at this with you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Living with your sister became something you never meant for it to be. You’re not living with her, you’re living with fucking guilt, and confusion, and insatiable lust for the man she’s supposed to be pleasing every night.

In fact, the amount you see her is far less than you originally thought. She works so much, and when she’s not working overtime just to come home and love on her asshole of a boyfriend, and tell you sweet goodnights like you didn’t eat his cum off his fingers, she’s sleeping away the exhaustion of being the only good person in this house.

Unfortunately for her though, you don’t care.

You appreciate the freedom she’s given to you on a silver platter, with a nice new bedroom suite and good food in the fridge, but you know she didn’t bring you here with the intention of giving you this much freedom.

She gave you the ability to fuck and be fucked whenever and where ever you want, but the choice wasn’t meant to be Heeseung. With his ever changing moods, annoying gamer rage, and disconcerting need to flirt and shame you.

You can’t believe you’re sitting here across from her before yet another one of her shifts, drinking the same juice, eating the same breakfast, pretending like you haven’t tasted the same cum she has.

You can’t believe that while growing up, you always shared her stuff against her will. She hated finding you wearing one of her favorite tops, or her new pairs of shoes. She would get so mad and all you can think now is that, surely she would kill you if she found out what else you’ve used behind her back.

And when you watch Heeseung kiss her goodbye, he seems all too entertained with the situation. Watching you pretend like you don’t want him, watching your sister be blissfully unaware of who his dick twitches for.

Watching, watching, watching.

Staring, really, at you through the kiss. Up until she leaves for the day and you’re left staring back at him. Heeseung lends you a small wave with an uncaring face, wiggling the same fingers he fucked your mouth with in your face, almost seeming like he’s attempting to lure you to open those same lips again for him.

Almost as if to remind you that you’re pathetic.

And goddammit. You fucking are.

That’s why, of course, you’ve found yourself time and time again in these same text messages. Fully guilty of leading these guys on but not nearly as guilty as you feel each time you show how bad you need it to the one man who doesn’t deserve it.

Jay, if he could, would probably fuck you right on the doorstep by this point with the amount of nudes, phone calls, and blatant shows of sexual interest. You can sense how annoyed he is with cumming all by himself using your photos, but like, that’s very attractive of him to wait.

Sunghoon? So frustrated with you for never following up with him, but entirely willing to fuck you with his dirty words and images of what he’d love to do if you’d just get the fuck out of the house for a day.

And Jake, ah, Jake. The cutest. One you’d take all of this frustration out on, the one who would probably apologize to you for everything bad that’s ever happened to you mid-orgasm solely because he wouldn’t know what else to say or do when he’s feeling so good.

Sexting any of them, or all of them, is really your only relief from the man who looms around this house. But at this point, even that is doing nothing for you.

Even as you read Jay’s texts, knowing he’s actively playing video games at the same time and not jerking off like he claims.

Jay: take a new one, i want more material

You: you’re not even touching yourself, you know I can hear heeseung yell at you right?

Jay: what? you think I can’t multitask?

You: is that why he’s yelling then?

Jay: one handing it and still got more kills than him, yea

God, he’s too confident while being such a fucking loser, but yeah, you’ll send him a new picture. You’ll go ahead and send it to Jake too. And Sunghoon, of course.

Then you pause with your fingers on the screen, zooming in on your body and checking it. Only half wondering what would happen if you took a pussy picture. Only half thinking of sending it to Heeseung. Not the other three, just him.

Half wondering turns to full wondering, as you listen to him yell something about Jay going down again mid match, proving that he probably was, in fact, fucking his fist mid-game and absolutely not getting more kills.

Heeseung’s voice sounds so full of anger. So loud, cracking in pitch even. It’s hard to imagine someone sounding so stupid being able to act in a way that’s made you feel so lost and ashamed of wanting him.

Yet, he did. And that’s why you decide right at this moment, you’ll always give in to his flirting even while knowing he’ll mock you and make fun of you for it. You’ve already dealt with it to the point that you’re used to it. At least you still get something out of it, right?

At least, maybe, he’ll give you something else to feel ashamed of today, right?

And as you take that photo, lying back on your bed, shifting your panties to the side and spreading your lips open for the camera, you snap a photo of your hole for him. Right there, already wet just imagining him thinking you’re pathetic for doing this.

At this point, you’re not feeling too ashamed of it right now. After all, he jerked off looking at you like there wasn’t at least three holes being fucked and filled on the screen behind him before. So…

You send the photo to him, ignoring the displayed message from Jay stating, “you only sent this one to me, right?”

And then you wait.

And you wait.

And wait.

You can still hear Heeseung yelling his gaming talk, but you watch his text messages like a hawk. Feeling nervous, terrified, embarrassed, shamed, turned on, curious, wet.

Each time he’s silent, you stare at the messages, up until you notice that he’s opened it.

He saw it.

You wait for footsteps, you wait to hear him tell his friends that he’ll be back. You wait for him to stomp in here and call you gross.

And you wait more.

And more.

Up until you can’t wait any longer and you find yourself shifting up and off of your bed, leaving your phone behind as you make your way to the office. He’s facing away from you as usual, the character on screen on a swivel as the scope of the gun searches for a head to shoot, and then– his phone.

Right there beside him, open, the image pulled up.

“What are you trying to do?” He says, but you can’t tell if it’s for you or his friends.

You stand there, pussy looking much the same as it was in that photo, except now with your shorts back on you, and panties back in place.

“Trying to fuck me over right now?” He continues when a kill screen shows up and he’s got a few seconds to lift his hand from the mouse. Not even looking at you, he beckons you with two fingers and pushes his chair back just slightly.

By the time you get up beside him, he puts his fingers over his mouth, glancing up at you, then down at his phone and tapping it. Immediately after tapping, he points to the floor in front of him, scooting back more to make room for you.

The silent conversation is loud as he narrows his eyes at you when you sink to your knees on the floor in front of him. You crawl under the desk, legs quivering at the idea that he’s absolutely ignoring you, but also inviting you.

As if he’s feeding you what you want. As if he doesn’t need this too.

And maybe he doesn’t, you think, as you carefully reach forward to his knees, feeling him push his chair in and trap you under the desk. He doesn’t look hard, proving that he’s simply allowing you to quench your thirst for his cum, surely.

Allowing you to be pathetic.

Allowing you to see it.

And finally, you do. He’s even polite enough to lift his ass up a bit just to let you pull his sweats down to get it out. Slowly growing at the feeling of your breath against it.

You breathe deeply before you press your lips against it instantly, darting your tongue out curiously and closing your eyes to relish in the first taste of his skin. It’s a clean taste, and despite him not being fully hard for this just yet, it only drives you to do better, to do more, until he actually wants you to do this for him, not just for you.

You could argue that it seemed much bigger when he was jerking it off in front of you, then again, he’s still not fully hard yet.

It actually hurts your feelings that you’re the one needing to get him horny right now. After all, you are clearly hungry for it, not him.

And you take him into your mouth again, and again, feeling him stiffen by the second. Still, his focus isn’t on you or what you’re doing down here.

Until it is, anyway.

By this point, you’re actually struggling to take him into your mouth, and you can argue he’s only at half-girth as you try. The top of your head bumps his desk every few seconds, which forces you to keep him in your mouth.

Kind of terrifying actually, to have put something in your mouth so readily only to regret the fact that his cock is essentially locked in by the small pace you’re trapped in, and it’s only swelling up more and more by the second.

Hardening until your throat is constricting around it, forcing you to gag and search for breath.

It’s hard to breathe as you cough and drool around him, frantically trying to pull off of him and hitting your head hard against the desk when you do.

He fucking chuckles at it before you feel his hand slip under the desk with you and grab his now fully hard cock. What does he do with it? He fucking slaps it straight across your face before forcing it right back between your lips.

You hate to say how wet that made you, and you hate even more to say that you kind of like the feeling of your throat getting bruised. Willing yourself to gag around him again, trying to twitch your tongue against the weight of his far too big length in your mouth.

You don’t want him to laugh though, you want him to fucking moan. All for his friends to hear. After all, it’s the first time you’re going down on him and it’ll probably be the last time too, right?

Not to mention, you’ve barely had experiencing sucking dick as it is, he should he fucking helping you get through this.

But he’s not. He’s just…playing his fucking game. Hell, the twitches of his length against your gag reflex is probably more for the kill he gets rather than the way your dripping spit all over and down his balls.

This is embarrassing, and yet– you love it. You fucking adore it, with the way your clit aches just at the thought that he’s letting you put your mouth on him at all.

Maybe it really is for you, and not for him.

“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung groans, probably more to his game than to you.

His hand shoots under the table, right to the top of your head as his other balances himself on the seat of his chair. There, he holds your head down on him and angles his hips just slightly to fuck up. Gaging you repeatedly, holding back his own moans at the way you’re just going to let him use you like this.

And as quickly as it happened, that short grunt from him not going unnoticed, he’s drawing his hands back above his desk, relaxing his body, and giving back the control.

Already, you can hear his fingers against the keyboard again.

“Back in the game, Jay, to the right!” He shouts, showing you that he absolutely just fucked your face because he got fucking downed in the game.

And you continue, trying to give him that same feeling that he forced on you just now, and never quite getting the same force behind your lips or tongue for him. His cock is throbbing though, choking you with each dribble and spurt of precum, up until he’s pulling the same trick.

Fucking up, holding your throat down on him, for just a bit until he’s back in the game and playing.

This happens for what feels like forever. To the point that surely, you’re drenching the carpet under you, and you’re starting to feel insecure in the fact that he hasn’t cum yet. Are you really just…bad at giving head?

Heeseung’s legs shift as you continue, slowing your pace and trying to rub your jaw through it with your free hand that’s not gripping the fabric of his lowered sweats. You do this up until his cock is suddenly sliding further and further out of your throat when he rolls his chair back.

Ah.

Oh.

Oh, my god. You think, getting the first glimpse of his face since you started. Blown out pupils staring down under his desk, hair a mess, mic right up against his smirking lips.

He looks…like he enjoyed it? Maybe? Are you getting ahead of yourself?

“You want more?” He asks, straight into the mic and confusing his friends. “I can see how much you want it, baby, come on. I’ll give it to you.”

You stare up at him, pretending that when you crawl out from under the desk and try to stand, you can’t hear the way he turns up the volume of his friends responding in confusion.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You hear the familiar voice of Sunghoon. “If you’re gonna fuck your girlfriend, at least mute yourself, dick.”

You nervously glance to his game that’s still full screened. You knew he was gaming with his friends since this morning, but for him to talk to you like this as if they can’t hear him?

“They’ll want to hear you.” He comments now, alerting his friends that he’s obviously not talking to them. “Trust me, they don’t fucking shut up about you.”

That’s when they realize.

“No fucking way.” Jake blurts. “There’s no way.”

Jay remains silent, staring at his unanswered text message before minimizing his game and dropping his mouth in surprise.

“Come on then, you already let me fuck that pretty mouth, might as well, right?” He says to you again, this time lifting his hips and tapping his desk. “Bend over for me.”

What you think is just an unmuted mic, unfortunately, is much, much more than that. You see, Heeseung likes to stream to his friends, back and behind his full screened game was the image of him suffering through your need to deep throat him half to death.

He remained calm, at first not exactly wanting his friends to know. Not wanting them to see you like this, and most certainly not wanting them to have any images of you to get off to. But now? Oh, to win their own game in front of them?

‘Fuck, look at that.” He says, watching you take the spot in front of him and bend over his desk, keyboard buttons pressing in and glitching the screen out momentarily due to your tits lying against it. “Now look up.” He instructs.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Jake blurts again once he minimized his game and instantly saw you on the camera, looking so out of it, so unaware. “Sunghoon, are you seeing this?”

Jay was still watching with his mouth agape, cock leaking as it always does for you except now? It’s the fact that Heeseung is really just gonna do something so awful to your sister? He’s really going to fuck you right here, right now? With proof?!

“Heeseung, don’t.” Sunghoon warns, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen in front of him.

“Don’t what? Sunghoon?” Heeseung smiles as he reaches his hands around the front of you, pulling you back by groping both of your tits. “Fuck your girl in front of you?”

You just listen, shocked that Sunghoon is actually asking Heeseung to stop. Shocked that they apparently have beef or something, over you? Surely not.

“No–” Sunghoon chokes back. “Don’t turn off the camera.”

“Camera?!” You panic, trying to break free of his grip on your chest, but he holds you there, pressing you closer with your back to his chest, his cock throbbing under your thigh.

“What? Now you have an issue with cameras?” Heeseung seethes sarcastic words into your hair, squeezing your tits harder now. “Relax, baby, I know they’ve already seen you like this.”

“Right?” Heeseung now directs his attention to the screen, lunging forward to quickly minimize the full-screened game, getting a good look at his friends and you in the camera against him.

The image is wildly attractive to him for many reasons. For one, he can see himself on the screen with his point of desire sitting right here on his lap. Secondly, his friends are awestruck by what he gets to have right now. Shamelessly watching, biting their words back, taking in deep breaths. And lastly, he can tell that everyone on camera right now either wants to be him or be fucked by him.

What’s not to love about this?

And Heeseung is quick when he flashes his eyes away from each of his friends, straight to you in the camera, watching you avoid looking at the screen. He moves one hand from your chest, pushes his chair back, and immediately cups between your legs.

“You show them this too, or was that just for me?”

You shake your head at Heeseung, reeling with embarrassment and arousal as you try to squeeze your legs closed around his hand. You feel choked up, throat sore, legs buckled, clit throbbing for him to dig his palm against it.

“Mm, you see that Jay?” Heeseung moves his eyes to his friend on screen. “Couldn’t even get her to show her pussy for you?”

Jay appears entirely tuned into the situation, eyebrows sitting furrowed and focused on you. God, if only he focused that much in game, Heeseung thinks he could probably out rank him if he wanted to.

“Jake?” Heeseung trails to his other friend, making sure each and every one of them hears and sees exactly what he’s doing.

Your eyes follow the names Heeseung calls out. Shyly, somewhat dazed. Tearing your eyes from Jay was already hard enough as is. After all, seeing his blatant attraction to you right there, in front of everyone? Maybe you should have let him hit, even just once because damn. It’s almost pitiful, that look in his eye as he watches you.

Jake on the other hand? You can tell he lets his hair fall partly in front of his eyes but he smiles to himself while watching. Something about seeing him like this makes you feel like you’ve just experienced extreme whiplash. It embarrasses you more knowing that you figured Jake was too inexperienced to know how to fuck a girl. He was too sweet.

Too soft.

Too different from his friends.

As you look at him now though, you realize he isn’t different at all. In fact, he might have been more full of shit than any of the others as you stare at his wicked eyes and nod of approval at Heeseung.

Hell, he’s even the one who mutters out a small, “Show us her tits.”

The only reason Heeseung does as Jake asked is because he can’t help but relish in the look on their faces of seeing what they could have had, but now never will. To see them lose. To witness him win.

They’re pathetic. Truly, when he drags your shirt up your belly and over your chest. Already braless, of course. And honestly, you’re shocked that they all react this way like you didn’t just send them tit pics but–

This is more embarrassing somehow. Four pairs of eyes are on you and only one pair of hands. You want all of their hands.

“I fucking knew you’d let me do this.” Heeseung chuckles against your ear, cupping his hands under your tits and presenting them to his friends. Bouncing them, rubbing them, pulling on both nipples before releasing them and letting your tits fall into their natural position. “Knew you were a slut the moment I saw the kind of panties you had hidden in that suitcase of yours.”

You glance away from the camera now, knowing Heeseung is right with his words.

“You should be fighting me, not dripping that pretty pussy all over me. Am I wrong?”

You should be fighting. You shouldn’t be okay with this moment being broadcasted to three different people that you’ve been leading on. And yeah, you should hate him for all of the confusion and mental anguish he put you through.

Yet, the arousal you have for him outweighs all of it. The arousal you have for this situation in general outweighs any shame you could feel, or the shame that comes after it.

Being wanted like this by four men who you find incredibly attractive?

“What more could a girl want?” You murmur in a hushed tone, rolling your hips just slightly on his lap, letting him feel the warmth of you seep into his sweatpants. His cock still hard and raging from your previous actions of choking on him.

Those words shock him as his eyes glance to the screen, noting how you’re writhing your body on him, totally shameless, totally fucking perfect with your tits out and on display, only pushing for more. It’s the fact that he fucking forgot he had his head set on for a moment and didn’t even catch that you whispered that shit straight into his mic.

He only realized it when he saw three faces on screen drop to a slack jawed expression and Sunghoon immediately leaned forward with a groan of “spread her legs.”

On any other day, for Heeseung, Jake, or Jay, seeing Sunghoon clearly push his pants down his thighs off camera would make them recoil and make fun of him. But they’re not right now, because the focus isn’t on any of the cocks being openly hard in this shared online space.

The focus is on you, and the way Heeseung absolutely spreads your legs and pushes your knees up by the thighs so that the flat of your feet are resting on his knees. There, he drops his hands from your tits and reaches around you, rubbing the line of your shorts on the insides of your thighs just enough that glimpses of your panties flash every few seconds.

From back here, the camera offers Heeseung the same view but it hits him differently because he’s the one doing it. He’s got his head resting on your shoulder as he watches, noting how you lean your head back against his own shoulder and breathe through his guided touches.

“Look at yourself.” He turns his head to whisper right against your cheek. “You’d let us all take a turn, hm? Wouldn’t even know which dick is in you.”

Your eyes open in a roll, landing your gaze on the screen and feeling flushed at the image. You don’t care how embarrassing or pathetic you are for this. No, because, look at them. Everyone wants you to act like this.

“Probably wouldn’t even care either, as long as you’re being fucked. Yeah, that’s right.”

Nodding in a daze against him, you roll your hips harder, trying to bump his hand against your pussy, trying to prove to everyone that you have three holes and two hands for a reason.

You don’t flinch when he slides his hands up the leg of your shorts either, pulling them to the side to reveal how wet you are to everyone. Listening to your body and the way it sings to him, brushing his knuckles against the swell of your clit, tapping the space where your hole sits and clenches to be seen.

“Ah, fuck.” Jay finally lets out in a shaky breath, hand clearly still working himself because, well, he was half hard before you made an even appearance on camera. “It looks like she pissed herself–”

Heeseung laughs as he drags his eyes to the image between your legs, so wet, entirely drenched through your nearly see-through panties at this point. Jay is right, it does look like you’ve pissed yourself, which only makes his cock throb more. That you’re so wet for him? So fucking drenched? God, he doesn’t even need lube with you.

You slick up so nice for him, it’s actually becoming painful not to test the stickiness, the slide it offers, the warmth. With this much pouring out of you, like you’ve already squirted, surely you could take all of him.

In an instant he pushes you from his lap, making you feel dizzy and light headed because suddenly you’re on your feet in front of him again. He gives you no time to balance yourself when he’s pulling your shirt up and off of you in a huffed out sigh, holding you in place by your tits to keep you from toppling over and breaking his monitor.

And when you steady out, his hands run straight down, shoving your shorts and panties down in one go before immediately pulling you back to his lap, holding your arms behind you, and spreading his own legs to force yours open for his friends.

“Take a good, long, look.” Heeseung directs towards his friends, sliding his hand in front of you and using two fingers to present your hole to them. “If you think she’s pretty, let her know now.”

It’s the way Heeseung moves his hand from behind you just to set his headset on your head now, quickly pinning your arms in place again and allowing you to listen to his friends do just that.

Immediately, pussy spread and unintentionally clenching in the camera, one of your senses is enveloped with the sound of Jay’s palm shamelessly dragging up and down his hidden cock. Then, the sound of Jake and his deep inhales paired with slight cracked whines, just as shameless, doing much the same.

Then, Sunghoon.

Fucking Sunghoon. Barely moving, but more willing to talk to you with that headset on your head.

“This why you didn’t come over?” He asks you blatantly in a breathy voice, glaring at the fingers of Heeseung holding your cunt open for him. “That could be me right now, but you’re really just going to fuck him? Of all people?”

You groan, lifting your head to give a proud nod and accidentally bumping Heeseung in the chin with the action.

The bump forces him to bite his tongue, a metallic taste of the small amount of blood flooding his mouth mixed with saliva when he dips his head, grabbing you by the hair and forcing your mouth to his.

You can taste the blood too, when he presses his wet tongue past your lips without so much as swallowing the mixture first. Practically drooling and spitting into your mouth through the rough kiss. It feels like your drowning, kissing him back like you’ve always wanted to, tasting him in a new way now and moaning into it.

Like a slut, really. Just fucking moaning. And he only forces more out of you too, as you feel him adjust his hands, holding you here on his lap, rough tongue bleeding against yours, sliding two fingers into you with one push.

God, finally. Fucking, finally.

Your mouth falls open in a sharp inhale of feeling his fingers, his lips turning to a smirk at hearing one of his friends audibly moan at the image on screen for them. You just showed how much of his saliva you were savoring, diluted red in the drool dripping down your chin through your moan.

You’re dirty, all four of them can see that much. But only Heeseung gets to feel it.

His cock throbs at the image when he strains his eyes to the screen, plunging his fingers in, out, in, out, until he pulls them from you entirely, thrusting them into your open mouth instead.

You squeal at the intrusion of his sudden fingers against your tongue, offering a third taste in your mouth. Yourself.

“Mhm,” Heeseung encourages you. “Suck it up like you did for me the other day.”

You hear Jake gasp at the idea that you’ve already done this for Heeseung before, probably leading him to believe that Heeseung has also probably already fucked you.

And hell, with how it’s looking, none of them would be shocked if that were the case.

“You’ve been doing this while talking to us?” Jake tries to confirm with you through a breathed sigh, groaning and unintentionally showing that he…wouldn’t mind.

“God, I don’t even want to fuck you now.” Sunghoon on the other hand, isn’t so willing and lies, absolutely wanting to be the person fucking your lips with his fingers. “After Heeseung? Disgusting.”

Oh, they think he’s fucked you already?

You shoot your eyes open, trying to shake your head in a “no” at them but still suckling around his fingers.

“Goddamn,” Heeseung grunts, rutting up against your back, letting his cock leave leaking little spots of his precum against your lower back. “Your sister would never act like this.”

“You should be ashamed, but you love it.” He continues, talking, talking, talking. Shoving his fingers deeper, deeper, deeper. “Work that tongue like a good girl.” He continues to whisper from behind you before–

You’re gagging. Feeling his fingers reach deep into your throat and press your tongue down to the point you’re forced to open your mouth wide. Exposing not only your finger-fucked pussy to his friends, but now your open and constricting throat.

Sunghoon immediately regrets his insult at you, seeing how wide and open your throat can be. Gagging openly with very little sound as Heeseung compresses your tongue through it.

You’re drooling again, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if you could possibly find a way to drink away your tears.

That’s about as much as Jay can take, gripping the base of his weeping length, willing it to stop threatening him with an orgasm before Heeseung really gets you looking pretty. He chokes up through the mic, and the sound runs straight through your body.

There, he watches you moan through an open and dry mouth, throat muscles tensing just to get the sound out. He grips harder, needing to pull his eyes away but struggling so hard to fucking do.

“Shit, baby. Stop.” Jay calls through the microphone, forcing his friends eyes on him, yours included, as all of you watch him vibrate in his seat in an attempt not to cum. “Stop moaning.”

Heeseung hears him say it, and intentionally gags you again instead. Bumping his fingers at the back of your throat with a smile on his face. Glancing between all of his friends, seeing how pathetic they are for what he does to you.

The fact that they’re sticking around at all? Both great and fucking embarrassing. Even more embarrassing than you.

Then Heeseung focuses back on you, tears running down your pretty cheeks, mouth agape, throat struggling to adjust still to his fingers despite taking his cock like that’s the only shape or size it wanted.

Ah, your body is so pathetically telling, and he grants you the release of another gag by sliding his fingers out of your mouth and straight back to your warm, pulsing, hole.

Right back in, one hole filled at all times it seems, as he feeds into the whiplash he’s able to give you. You didn’t even notice how he shoves you off of his lap until you can no longer see the screen in front of you and are face to face with his keyboard. No frustrated face of Jay, no forced calm and collected expression from Sunghoon, no blatantly bitten lips of Jake.

No, only the feeling of Heeseung chasing your hole with his fingers, your hips running from the touch due to sensitivity and buckled knees. He holds you there against his desk, standing behind you and pressing his cock between your ass cheeks. Fingers roughly rubbing your clit, sliding down to fuck into you, then out again to rub you harder.

His friends watch you try to run your lower half away from him, but his eyes stay glued to the camera, as if he’s staring into the soul of his friends.

“You guys wanna see me fuck her?” He comments in a sly tone, cock grinding against you. “I can fuck her.”

“Ah, Hee–” You groan as a response, listening to the slapping of palms against cocks only grow more furious and finally relaxing your body to now search for his fingers, just to push yourself back on them. “Please.”

He snickers from behind you, grabbing a hand full of hair at the back of your head as he rips his fingers from your needy hole, wiping them along your cheek as he forces you to look at him.

“Again.” He demands, now pinching your cheeks with one hand, arching your back more by the pull of your hair. “Say, “Please, Seungie, fuck me.” He whispers into your mouth, loud enough for the mic to pick up the way you swallow around his words.

“Say, “Please, Hee, give it to me.” He continues, making his voice higher pitched as if to mock your moans.

Sunghoon watches and listens in shock, never once wanting to know that this is how his own friend fucks someone, but goddamn. It’s like he’s just found the video on page 86 of pornhub that hit just right as he watches. Fucking up and into his fist like his life depends on it, waiting, waiting, waiting, for you to moan out just like Heeseung is telling you to.

And it’s the fact that you fucking do, Heeseung watching the way Jake presses his entire body into his chair, staring down at himself with a fast moving palm, so fast that he can see his friend lose himself to the pleasure.

Jay, near tears in his eyes as he watches, probably moaning in your ear like a mad man right now.

You fucking say it.

You say both, moaning in a choked gasp when you feel him stick his tip in you at it.

“Please–” You hiccup as you try to repeat the words again and again for him. “God, yes.” You rasp out in a deeper tone at the feeling of him slide in.

And he keeps sliding in, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes back when he bottoms out and feels your cunt clench him as if you’ll never let it go.

And then, one quick thrust, holding your hair in his hands, arching you harder, his other hand reaching for yours and holding them behind your back, he fucks forward.

Your tits bounce with the movement, neck strained to keep your eye on his face as you try to adjust to the full size of him entering you.

“She just takes it.” Heeseung grunts with a choked breath. “Shit, so goddamn tight.” He murmers again, nearly unable to stand on his own two feet how tight you are.

He forces you to look at him through it, squeezing your hands together so tightly through it that you can barely focus on the pain of your positioned body against the feeling of his cock splitting you open with each hard thrust.

And then, you let out the most filthy, wet, pornographic cry.

Heeseung then brings his attention to his monitor one last time, watching the pathetic mess of people in front of him getting off entirely on his cock driving into you.

“I win.” He says with one pointed thrust, keeping his hips pressed against your ass and only pressing in harder, trying to reach another inch in, trying to break past whatever wall inside of you keeps him from impaling you entirely on him.

All three friends burst into a feeling of realization, Jake already mid orgasm at the sound of that moan you just cried out–

Then theres….nothin but the feeling of Heeseung releasing your hands and allowing you to grip his desk through this deep hold of his length inside of you.

Suddenly, no sound through the headset, the light of the monitor in your peripheral vision goes off, and Heeseung is breaking his demeanor just to moan out in full again.

“Drove them crazy,” He chuckles through a wet groan, now snapping his hips back and leaning forward just to push back into you, deeper, deeper, until his desk ruts against the wall with the tight hold on you. “Driving me fucking crazy.” He whispers, holding his open lips right against your neck when he hunches over in this paused thrust.

“You looked so good.” He says again, suddenly praising you, suddenly able to relish in the pleasure he’s giving you rather than pretending it does nothing for him.

You blink away tears, feeling your twisted and turned body, still trying to look at him through this even if he’s released your hands.

He can see that look of realization on your face and smiles at that too before shooting his hands to your middle and forcing you back and against him.

He keeps his dick in you, too obsessed with the drag your walls offer to him, and holds you against him just to shift to the side and press you back on the misplaced couch in the room. Man cave stuff, and alla that.

You watch him guide you face first into the cushions before he is grabbing your hands again, holding them right back in pace behind your back with one hand, and the other pushing your face even further into the pillows.

“You have no fucking idea, do you?” He grunts, slamming into you again, eyes glued to the way your body strains to accommodate the position he wants you in. “How much better you are?”

Oh. Really now?

You smile through suffocated breaths, the fabric of the couch invading the taste of your own breath and forcing you to love it just as much. You bite down, listening to his spilling words.

“Begging me like that for my friends to hear, like you didn’t know I wanted to do this?” He continues, burying himself deep again and holding it there again. “Fucking my pillow instead of me.”

He seems a little more angry now.

“Turning my friends on when you wanted me,” He grabs your hair again, pulling you back into that same painful arch and forcing you to stare up at the wall. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart, I would’ve given it to you every time.”

The reality that this is not your boyfriend is so far from you right now. The fact that your sister is working away right now to pay the light bill, gonna come home later and share a bed with this man? You’re not even jealous.

In fact? You’re on top of the world listening to him want you more.

And at this point, Heeseung can tell you’re smiling, looking blankly at the wall and totally lost from this world. This is exactly what he wanted.

Such a pretty little sister, winning him over the bitch that won’t even choke on his cock? It could have been so much easier for you. But this was fun for him, watching you want him and know you couldn’t have him.

Despite him proving that you could have had him any day of the week.

“All you had to do was ask.” He repeats into your ear, now slowing his pace until he pulls out.

He takes a step back, gazing at the way your open pussy still clenches for him, the way your ass shakes slightly with your legs.

“Aww,” He coos, blinking at you from behind and reaching forward to flip you over. “You wanted it so bad too, can’t believe you waited.”

You see him now, fully in person rather than through the image on his monitor. His skin looks so much more full of life, cheeks tinted and hair more fucked up than you’ve ever seen it. Cock huge, weighed against his leg.

You’re shocked you took all of it like that previously, unable to relish in the pain of it because your senses were overloaded with moans and his own boasting.

“Your sister doesn’t have to know.” He says now, eyes trailing your body.

“Ah–” You wince when he licks his fingers and lowers his hand to your clit, one hand spreading your legs out now that he’s got you on your back. “I really didn’t know.”

Heeseung chuckles, finding you entirely too cute and endearing as you look up at him with those fucked out lips trying not to quiver at your sensitivity.

“You were too dumb to take a hint.” He leans forward, now, using his hand to lift your leg up to your chest, rubbing his cock right against your hole as he pulls his other hand up now, propping up your other leg. “Too stubborn to realize.”

You nod in a slightly broken way, unsure of if you were the one putting yourself through torture, or if you really were too dumb to notice he was trying to get you to go insane for him.

He wanted you to jump on him. He wanted you to take it like this.

“And you won’t tell her?” You whisper now, losing the ability to think much more when he grinds himself down, keeping eye contact with you, that same smirk you both hated and loved.

He shakes his head at you, almost sweetly when he adjusts his cock to slide in again, knocking the breath out of you with a choked moan.

“She won’t find out if you can be quiet when she’s home.”

Oh fucking no. He wants to…continue this? This isn’t a one time thing? He’s going to try while she’s home? While she’s gone? Arguably, you’re fucking glad.

“When she’s–?” You try to question, stopping short when he bottoms out in a groan, breathing in through his nose before lending you a tight, short thrust.

“Mm, yeah, I’m gonna be in you every day.” He moans, thinking about the image alone of sneaking into your room while his girlfriend is fast asleep.

Fucking you in his bed. In your bed. On the shared couch. Everywhere. Everyday.

“God, she’d hate us both.” He chuckles through the same moans he can’t stop from spilling out of his throat. “Finding out I’m so deep, so raw like this.”

Fuck. Right.

“Wait–” You come to realization, clenching from panic at the fact that a condom didn’t even come to mind. “Fuck, Hee, wait!”

He only presses harder now, smiling at how you’ve finally managed to come to your senses. Fucking you faster when you try to wiggle your hips away. Fucking you harder, pressing his entire body weight against the back of your thighs just to force you to stay in one place. Pussy open and spread out, clenching his cock so nicely.

“Gonna fuck you full,” He kisses your forehead with the horrifying words. “You’ll do it for me right? She won’t let me.”

Those words ring in your head. If she won’t let him, you sure as fuck will. You can deal with the consequences later. You no longer fight to pretend he’s not ramming your g-spot, forcing your voice to shake through a cry of his name.

“I’m not–” You choke out through cries, feeling your body tense up. “I’m not on birth co-”

“Fuckkkk, yes.” He rolls his eyes back at your half spoken words, losing it at the thought of dripping his seed into you and knowing he’s sterile enough to scare you both for good. “Take it,” He thumps his cock as far into you as he can, willing you to nod your head, willing you to love this as much as he does.

It’s the fact that you’re not trying to wiggle away now, he can feel your hole pulse at hit words, the way you want to be better than your sister, the way you’d truly let him.

Even more the fact that you’re not the one he should be shooting his seed into. It should be your sister, the woman who wants to marry him, the woman who said she simply wasn’t ready to bear his child. Not that you want to either, but goddamn do you want to be fucked full of the possibly, you say it yourself in a harsh grip around his neck, tugging at the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

“Do it.” You whisper through hiccuped moans, his thrusts scooting you up and down on the couch at the sheer force of them.

“Yeah,” He nods his head, pressing harder against your legs as he chases the very high you’re asking him to give to you. “You want it?” He encourages you to keep telling him. He needs you to tell him.

You nod frantically, feeling your body tense up again, trying to reach your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit. Shockingly, that simply touch of your fingers sends you straight over edge, cumming so hard around his deep thrusts that you can barely hear him praise you through it with drawn out groans of “Ah, you’re squeezing me–” and “Just like that, I’m–”

His voice is clear though, when his hips stutter in place and he’s holding himself still. You can feel the pulse of him releasing into you through the last moments of your orgasm.

“Take it.” He moans. “Take all of it.” He continues, pulling out half way so that his cum drenches every part of your hole.

There, he uses his hand to milk the rest of it out of him, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the sensation of your own orgasm only slick up the inside of you more than he is, and then– he rams back in. Pushing his cum deep. So deep that you moan at the feeling, knowing the mess is dripping down your ass, and being shoved so far against your cervix that– Well. You panic.

Arguably, Heeseung should panic too, but he doesn't as he heaves in a deep and relieved sigh, sliding out of you once and for all.

He just looks at you, a mess on the office couch, pussy pumped full of him, swollen, still pulsing.

“Can I be honest?” He breathes out after running his hands through his sweaty hair, dropping them down with a slap to your now relaxed legs.

At your silence, he continues anyway. “You’ve never looked prettier than right now.”

And, well. You realize that with those words alone, selfish and self absorbed as you relish in them, you decide you don’t care that he’s just fucked you raw without a care in the world that he just cheated on the supposed love of his life. You both have won in this situation, and pregnancy isn’t such a scare anyway when he walks away a mere minute later and comes back with a fucking Plan-B pill.

You’re confused by it at first, popping it into your mouth and looking at him with raised brows.

“Why do you just have these?” You ask, still catching your breath.

“She takes one every time we have sex, even with a condom.” He rolls his eyes. You smirk, noting how if there’s anything you do better than your sister…It’s fucking her boyfriend.

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #lee heeseung smut

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milo-is-rambling · 2 years ago

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Redyed my hair (a slightly deeper pink shade but basically the same) and now I’m laying in bed thinking about all the ways I’ve changed who I am and what I believe over the years and I don’t recognize who I was when I was young but I sympathize with them even more than I ever thought I could I just don’t think of those pictures of me as actually being me because my mind has always been this and I’m sure years from now I won’t recognize myself now because obviously my mind has always been whoever I am then

#idk something about your mind maturing when you aren’t paying attention and then suddenly you feel like you’re twelve again from some stupid #memory and you’re struggling to even remember what it felt like to be in those shoes and you don’t know how much is repressing trauma and #how much is you smoking weed constantly and how much is you being depressed and so suicidal and mentally ill in your early teens that you #didn’t even bother to attempt to make memories so now anything you do remember drags you back to the worst depression of your life and you #forgot how bad it was until someone else brings it up and suddenly you’re that kid crying and hurting yourself and begging anyone to care #and being abandoned and laughed at and you feel like it will never end and then you open you’re eyes and it hasn’t been that way in years #and you’d struggle to even believe yourself because everyone else ignores the way they treated you growing up so now yoh internalize it and #assume you’re just crazy for these memories you have cause surely your family didn’t laugh at you sobbing surely they didn’t bandage your #self harm wounds and then sit you at the table and scream at you about homework and then your mother talks about her therapist and suddenly #having someone in her life to put your adhd in perspective and she realizes that maybe there were reasons you were struggling other than #being lazy but she never apologized she still doesn’t apologize and you don’t bring it up you don’t tell her you remember but the silence #between you is deafening and you can both tell you’re forgetting something and you don’t know what the other person doesn’t know #haha yeah anyways #my mothers therapy is going good and she’s finally realizing that her kid and her husband had very similar adhd patterns that affected their #entire lives and we’re not as visible and her sons adhd patterns where he was more hyperactive #like I’m happy she’s learning to deal with all this shit but now that she’s in therapy and talking about all these things with me growing up #while somehow not at all talking about all the bad shit it makes me feel like she doesn’t even know she did anything wrong and I don’t want #her to feel worse about it rn cause there’s nothing she can do and we’ve moved past it but like I still can’t cry in front of people without #this deep pit of self hatred and thinking someone’s going to laugh at me when I show real emotions so I keep it all inside until I explode #but yeah at least she feels better about herself now #like legit I am happy for her and I don’t want to make her therapy about me but like god damn woman just admit anything you did and apologiz #so I know that you know it wasn’t the right thing to do #acknowledge that you hurt and scarred me so I won’t feel so fucking crazy all the time #I got kind of poetry ish in the middle there but I went back to being bitchy ranty soon enough so now I’m gonna go smoke real weed and try #to sleep without thinking thoughts or using my brain for anything other than bodily functions

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johnbrand · 8 days ago

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Sister's New Boyfriend

“C’mon bro, didn’t you miss this?” Scott teased, his giant Size 13 foot plopped onto the coffee table in front of me.

“Cut it out, Scott,” I hissed, knowing my sister was bound to call us into the kitchen any minute now.

“Why should I?” Scott cockily grinned. “We both know you want to.”

I held back the scarlet that threatened to color my face. “That’s not true.”

“It’s only been what, seven or eight years since high school?” Scott’s grin shifted into an exaggerated frown. “Surely you haven't forgotten me, have you? And all the fun times we had together?”

Unfortunately I had not forgotten Scott, or the “fun times” he was referring to. The constant bullying; harassment and name-calling and even a few bouts of abuse. It was painful for me to reflect on, both of us being the same age and yet being emotionally attacked by a man double my size. Since those years, the gym and my therapist had helped me move past those vulnerable times. Even though I had struggled to find a relationship, I was stronger now; a fighter well-off with a supportive network.

“Luckily for you, I’ve moved on,” I snarked, sizing Scott up.

“I don’t think you have,” Scott’s smirk returned. “Otherwise you would’ve left as soon as you saw me.”

I had not expected Scott to be my sister’s new boyfriend. The man she had been gloating about for months, this “kind, sensible, loyal” being that had corrupted her life to the point that he was all she would talk about. I would have never assumed my sister–my older, highly educated sister–to end up with the malevolent jock who had destroyed my ego all those years ago. And after brief introductions, in which I realized I was still physically smaller than my former tormentor, I quickly sensed the looming danger of the situation.

“I’m not going to abandon my sister,” I retorted.

“You’re not going to abandon your commands, either,” Scott shot back, a bit to my confusion. Scott had apparently dropped out of college, but had become a fitness influencer in the years since, pulling in huge financial figures. It was difficult not to reflect on the fact that even though I had a degree, Scott had still come out on top. “Stop lying to yourself, buddy.”

Instead of another backhanded defense, I felt myself a slow warmth settling in his bones. My frustration subsided as a peaceful, almost artificial calm crawled over. My usual worries were smoothing over, something that Scott recognized immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it, buddy.” Again, the word sent a pleasurable warmth all across my frame, tingling my toes and twitching the corners of my mouth into the beginnings of a dopey smile. “I see a few years apart hasn’t weakened my conditioning on you at all, has it?”

I knew better than to answer. In therapy, I thought I had discussed all my qualms with Scott. Every single memory I could recover was heavily investigated, scrutinized, and then analyzed to create a plan for my future proceedings. But it was not until that very moment, in my sister’s living room reunited with my high school bully, that I realized I had only covered half of the relationship Scott had created for us. The memories my therapist and I had discussed, those were only the ones Scott had allowed me to remember.

“No Sir,” I replied, the title suddenly feeling appropriate. “Not at all. I still jack off to the thought of your magnificence at least twice a week as you instructed, Sir.”

My pupils inflated as Scott’s smirk grew sinister; this truth being revealed to both of us.

“What, you didn’t think I just let you go after graduation, did you?” Scott’s words cut right to the bone, my embarrassment finally flushing my face. “I guess my hypnosis was better than I thought it was back then. I like to keep all my boys on a leash, in case they ever become useful to me again.”

Before I could respond, Scott snapped his finger and pointed back at his foot. Immediately, I was kneeling before him, my nose inhaling his godly scent and my tongue running across the holy valleys of his sole. Every breath sent another wave of affection across me, the submissive alter ego Scott had created for me back in high school overriding all the defenses I had built up since then.

“Who’d have thought one of them would eventually become my brother-in-law?” Scott commented. Even as my former life and independence was quickly evaporating, his smug victory brought a single tear to my eye.

“I thought I was going to break the news!” My sister yelled from the kitchen, finally entering the conversation but apparently oblivious to what was actually happening. “Dinner will be set in a minute!”

“Thanks babe,” Scott called back, before searing his eyes straight through me. “Hope you’re ready to be an uncle too, buddy.”

That revelation snapped what was left of my free will. But now, I had more important things to worry about, like tending to Scott’s feet.

#male tf #male transformation #faggot tf #straight submission

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thelightsandtheroses · 1 month ago

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Sweater Weather | Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: When you pick up a hobby again as the seasons turn in Jackson, Joel wonders why you won’t make him a sweater. Word Count: 2k Warnings: established relationship, pure fluff, copious references to knitting and crafting, references to the ‘sweater curse’ , post season Jackson domesticity, no description of the reader beyond her hobby. Notes: This is just a cosy autumnal piece of fluff to ease back into the fandom a bit. I’ve been struggling with writing and my place in the fandom bit recently but I wanted to take part in @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese ‘s jolabrew with cheese autumn challenge and I’ve recently been crafting a bit and trying knitting and crochet so couldn’t resist this silly little idea,

You used to love autumn. You thought it would be your favourite season forever. You were intoxicated by the foliage in all its glorious shades of red and mustard yellow, even the browns seemed richer then. You remember jumping through leaves in your childhood, a mug of hot chocolate waiting when you got home.

That was Before though.

Before the colour red reminded you of blood rather than leave. It was before the dark meant risk, meant the chance of an infected hiding away and a rational fear of death.

After the outbreak, all of the moments you clung to, the memories you used to savour, it all felt so pointless in this new world where death was always so close, always a shadow around you.

It’s different here though.

Jackson is like something out of a postcard. It’s simultaneously stuck in another time and fully adapted to the outbreak and the need for security.

You sit on the rocking chair on the porch, hands occupied by knitting needles as you try and turn what was once a too small jumper into something useable for you, or Joel, or Ellie. You’re thinking a scarf maybe for Ellie, as the weather turns more, perhaps even a matching hat if you can salvage enough, or remember how to make one.

“Whatcha makin’?” Joel asks, one arm casually leaning against the wooden jamb of the porch. Sometimes he seems to appear from nowhere and you take in his appearance, eyes slightly tired from patrol but still bright and there’s a small smile on his face as he takes in what you’re up to.

“Not sure yet. It was a sweater before I frogged it, could be good for a scarf or hat, maybe even socks if I can … I don’t know if I can make those.” Before Jackson, it had been a while since you picked up a pair of knitting needles or a crochet hook, or even a decent skein of wool but now you can finally indulge in the hobby again. Back in Boston, you can hardly imagine how many ration cards this would have gone for.

“You’ll figure it out, you always do.” Joel says with a smile.

You remember you used to make Tommy, Tess and Joel whatever you could from scraps of wool or ragged jumpers whenever possible. Your proudest accomplishment was a patchwork blanket over several months for winters in Boston. There was no heating in the apartments and it could get cold.

Now you’ve made a number of sweaters in varying levels of success, for the first the arms were so long in you had to start again, but you’ve also made a scarf and an acceptable number of hats - the latter of which you’ve proudly given to Ellie and Joel.

It feels domestic, normal even. Jackson is just different.

“How was patrol?” you ask.

“Tommy and I went up to the lookout, there were a few infected but-” Joel shrugs and runs a hand through his hair in a motion that still turns to your bones to jelly every single time. “It was fine.“

“Good.”

You take a moment to drink in Joel’s appearance. He looks better here. His clothes fit again, his eyes are brighter. There’s part of you that can’t believe either of you are here now, that he came back. That either of them did.

When you all left Boston, you noticed the way he made sure you and Ellie had supplies, had food when it was in short supply. The closer you’d got to Jackson, the more you’d noticed how he started using a tighter notch on his belt, so you tried to share more with him, make it subtle so he didn’t catch on to your intentions either.

He had taken Ellie on from Jackson alone, insisted he’d only be a couple of weeks, but he’d asked you to stay. There was an unspoken promise to wait for him to come back. Two weeks turned into a month and you’d begged Tommy to send a group to find him and Ellie, you’d begged the town meeting every week but they said no.

Tommy thought Joel was dead, you realised. Him and Maria were trying to subtly prepare you, to help you build a life in Jackson of your own. You knew they were alive though, you just knew it.

After a while, you weren’t so sure. You just weren’t sure what it would mean if they didn’t. Your life was in stasis, waiting for an answer that might never come.

The day Joel came back with Ellie, you’d hugged them both before joking that they stank and tried to wipe away your tears when neither was looking.

That was months ago and now the three of you are settled into Jackson, almost. There are secrets between them about the time they went to Salt Lake City, but they’re here. They’re safe. There’s time for that later.

Hey,” Joel says, “you want to get lunch at the hall?”

“Sure.” You place your wool and knitting inside the hallway of your, Joel and Ellie’s home and walk down the porch to meet him.

The two of you stroll down the street towards the main town hall and dining area. It’s cool, crisp and the sound of leaves crunching under your boots is a balm. Joel’s hand is tantalising close to yours, skimming your fingers as the two of you move in tandem.

“Weather’s turning, we’ll need warmer clothes. I think the stuff I made for Tommy and Maria’s baby went down well.” You pause. “Think I could get a sweater for Ellie and new socks for you outta that.”

“Huh?”

“The wool - you asked what I was making.”

“Oh, right.”

“Seth asked if i can make him a sweater. This wool is for you and Ellie though, if you come across anything on patrol, could you- ”

‘Sure.“

Joel pauses, he’s wearing the expression you’ve noticed whenever he wants to say something but he’s not sure. A slight frown, one brow lowered, concentration on his face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure.”

“Joel, I know that face.”

“Seth asked if you can make him a sweater.”

“For trades, Joel, could be useful. I think he mentioned a certain bottle of wine that I’ve been eyeing up.”

“Okay.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve made me some lovely things, darlin’, and I truly appreciate the hat, but I -I know it sounds selfish, but I -”

“You want a sweater,” you say in realisation. You should have known, the last time you knitted a jumper you couldn’t help but notice how Joel had watched you doing it.

“I mean, not necessarily. It just feels like half the town has sweaters you’ve knitted ‘cept -”

“You.”

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s just, I can’t make you a sweater, Joel.”

“You can’t make me a sweater?” Joel asks.

You nod solemnly. “Honestly, I would, but I really can’t.”

“Well, why not?“

“Sweater curse.”

“Sweater curse?”

“Sweater curse.”

The two of you reach the dining hall and you kiss Joel lightly on the cheek before you open the door. “We’re okay, right?”

“Course we are,” he says firmly, squeezing your hand and putting an arm around you. “Sweater curse?” you hear him mumble to himself.

You should elaborate, explain things but in all honesty this is a moment you’ve dreaded. It’s as close to defining your relationship as you and Joel have come in some time. Mostly, the two of you are together and you’re exclusive and that’s enough. There’s no need to put any firmer labels on things than that because the two of you just work.

By the time the two of you have selected your lunch and are sitting at the table.

Tommy’s wearing a sweater you’ve made. Joel scowls for a second.

“What the fuck is a sweater curse?”

Tommy bursts out laughing.

“Rally?” He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not messing with that shit. Not in this world.”

“This world?”

“There are people essentially infected by a mushroom, Joel, I will play ball with any superstitions I need to.”

“That sounds sensible actually,” Tommy says thoughtfully. “So … the sweater curse, huh?”

“How do you know about the sweater curse?” Joel asks.

“Dated someone into crochet some time back.”

“You dated someone … Jesus, Tommy. So what is it?”

“Well you know if you give someone you’re dating a homemade sweater, the curse is you’ll break up.”

”Oh.”

Joel scrutinises you and you feel your face heating. “It’s an old wives’ tale, but I - I would rather not chance it.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I know, I know. It’s just I know someone who did make their girlfriend a sweater and then she broke up with them. Do you remember Tamsin back in the QZ?“

“Tamsin was a smuggler and dating a woman in FEDRA, it was doomed before the sweater,” Tommy says.

“Nonetheless.”

“But okay, if you’re really worried, I get it,” Tommy says, earning a scowl from Joel.

“It’s just an urban legend, baby,” Joel says.

“That might be true, but with you? Nope, I don’t want to risk it.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he repeats calmly, looking into your eyes and squeezing a knee as he slightly moves you so you’re both facing each other. The distractions of Tommy and the dining hall melt away. It’s like a balm over your body, the fact that Joel is here with you, that he still wants to be with you. The connection between the two of you runs deep and it’s certainly not always run smoothly. This town has been a true second chance for the two of you to achieve something close to normal, and maybe, you realise, Joel can see that.

“You go on patrol, Joel, it’s not as simple as that.”

Tommy looks away and Joel swallows. You watch how he tries to work through his answer, lips slightly pursed as he ponders the rich approach. There’s a freckle on his neck, one that whenever you see it instantly transports you to nights with him and moments between the sheets. You’ve catalogued every freckle, every mark, every scar now.

“I won’t push you on this,” he says quietly. “The gloves and hats are real nice.”

You smile softly, kissing him on the cheek before turning your attention back to your food. The water jug is empty so you decide to go and get a refill.

As you walk away, you can hear Tommy and Joel’s voices still.

“Now I think about it, there’s a way around the curse anyway,” Tommy says quietly, clearly in the hopes you won’t hear them. The years together have led to your hearing becoming attuned to them, to Joel’s voice in particular. You could pick him out of any crowd.

“Oh yeah?” There’s a lightness in Joel’s voice now, that slight teasing edge you love.

“Marry her. That’s the workaround. Honest.”

Joel chuckles. “For a sweater? Can’t marry her for a sweater. That ain’t right.”

“You said you were going to marry her anyway, Joel. Isn’t a sweater just a bonus?”

“Tommy!”

“I’m just sayin’, you said you had a plan.”

“I do and shut up, will you? She’ll hear.”

You freeze momentarily. Joel’s talked about marriage with you to Tommy? You take a deep breath before returning to the table.

“Is it true?” Joel asks in a whisper to you. “I know you heard Tommy and me.”

“Reckon I could ask the same question.”

Joel swallows. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

“Same.” You pause and smile mischievously, “Say it was true, I take it you have a colour preference for a sweater then, Joel?”

Tag List

If you would like to be added to to the taglist please let me know. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs. Tag lists are a bit funky at the moment, so I recommend following me or my fic account @thelightsandtheroses-fics (you can enable notifications for that account) if you want to ensure you're up to date

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#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #jolabrew + withcheese

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bring-forth-his-sac · 1 month ago

Note

maybe some fluff and smut w negan where reader has scars/self harm scars and reader is like looking at them thinking about the past and negan cheers her up😋 also he’s like aggresive in bed but is sweet outside all that. also maybe some aftercare included too

thank you so so much for requesting (and for your patience!) I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Post Whisperer War Negan x f!reader

Tags: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, cunnilingus, rough sex, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The voices around you blend into a monotonous rhythm. At this point in the community meeting, they shouldn’t be surprised people are beginning to zone out as they rehash the same talking points over and over again.

You try to force yourself to focus but it’s a losing battle. The gist of it, as Negan so eloquently said to you the other day is “At this rate, the only thing that’ll be on the menu is regret, served with a big glass of desperation… but hey, if we gotta start cannibalising each other, I have no problem eating you out”.

That last part earned him a scoff and quick slap to the arm.

Gathering in the heart of what was once the thriving community of Alexandria, the aftermath of the Whisperer's rampage is visible everywhere. Ruined homes, scattered debris of what was once vibrant greenhouses and the scarcity of resources cast a shadow of uncertainty over everyone.

“Gabriel is already working on the vegetable patches,” Rosita takes over “but we need food. Now. So I say we raid the old military base not too far from here. We can round some people up and scavenge through there in a few days time. Daryl’s out there now, seeing if it’s worth it”.

You sit quietly on the porch steps to one of the only houses left habitable, staring down at the scars that map your hands and lead up one of your forearms.

It’s been a while since you’ve truly stopped and studied each one, every line acting as a reminder of a time when pain felt like the only answer.

You trace the lines with your fingertips, the blurry memories of these desperate moments slowly coming back to you. Back then, it was a release and the only way to stop the chaos swirling inside your mind. You remember the fleeting relief that followed, how it dulled the aching inside, if only for a moment.

In a twisted way, it’s quite funny. You’ve fought so hard to stay alive since the dead began to rise and yet you would still do this, still hurt yourself.

How ironic.

You let out a small sigh, shifting your gaze up to watch Rosita again and pretend like you’re listening.

It’s been a long time since you’ve self harmed or even had those thoughts. It feels dangerous to think about though, as if thinking back to those memories is like walking a tightrope of temptation.

“If you’re interested in going to the military base, talk to me or Carol about it,” Rosita begins to finally wrap up the meeting “if not, then go speak to Gabriel or Aaron about helping with the rebuild. We gotta all work on this, no slacking. That’s the only way Alexandria can survive”. You nod vaguely to her words and thankfully, the meeting ends.

As everyone disperses, you stay seated on the porch steps. Your mind feels foggy as it struggles to fully return to the present moment.

Thoughts of the past continue to tug at your consciousness, lingering like a bad smell. A sigh escapes your lips as you run a hand down your face, your eyes immediately going back to the scars that litter your arm.

“You buffering or something?” The question completely catches you off guard, the deep voice coming from behind you.

You already know who it is, of course you do, especially since you’re one of the only people he ever approaches— mainly because he knows you won’t tell him to fuck off… without good reason.

“I can’t just sit and enjoy the view?” you bat back, your prior feelings instantly getting masked with a facade of sass.

Negan leaves the safety of the doorway now that it’s just the two of you. He grunts softly as he sits beside you, looking out at the remains of Alexandria.

“... what view?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes. “Jackass” you curse him playfully.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, silently debating how to go about this. “You catch everything that was said in the meeting?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Negan doesn’t exactly understand why but he always finds himself drifting over to you, his gaze flickering between you and whatever he’s supposed to be paying attention to. And the past few minutes of the meeting has been a very obvious case of depressive daydreaming, something he’s seen you slip into every once in a while.

“Hm? Yeah,” you shrug casually, glancing over at him.

He waits, wondering if you’ll crack and open up on your own. When you don’t, he tries again.

“You got notes written out on the lines on your arm?” Negan gestures to your scars, being as blunt as possible about it.

Automatically covering your arm with your other hand, you shoot him a glare. Negan has always somehow toed the line, knowing how direct he can be without upsetting you too much.

He doesn't push; he simply tests the waters before backing down and letting you take the lead. Negan quickly put his hands up in surrender. He knew there was no easy way of mentioning your scars but the sooner he addresses it, the sooner you’ll talk.

He’s expecting a slap or to be cussed out for mentioning it but instead, you stand and march into the house.

It’s your natural reaction to flee the second someone mentions your scars, something you’ve done even when others simply looked in the direction of your arm.

He groans out your name, instantly standing to follow. “Don’t just walk off,” he follows you inside, silently thankful that the house is empty, everyone else out working for the day “you know I didn’t mean it like that… well, you know I didn’t mean to offend ya”.

You pause, debating with yourself on what to do. You opt to look down at the floor, unsure how to feel about the sudden confrontation.

"Listen, I get it. I saw ya eyeballin’ your arm for half the meeting and not to get all mushy and shit, but those scars don’t define you” Negan's expression shifts, giving way to something more sincere. He steps closer, his tone dropping to a softer register.

“They’re not a mark of weakness or worthlessness or whatever bullshit you tell yourself. They show you survived. You’ve got grit and I admire that more than anything.” He reaches out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face toward his.

Despite every inch of you wanting to run again, you look up. The warmth in his eyes is undeniable and as much as you want to sink further into your defences, you can feel them slowly melt away.

You've always been a fortress in life, sturdy and unyielding. Every brick laid was a lesson learned, or another wound healed.

You've perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see the cracks that run beneath the surface. In today’s world, vulnerability feels like a foreign language and one you've continuously avoided speaking.

“And if you ever need to remind yourself just how strong you are,” Negan continues, dropping his hand back down to his side “I’m right here, darlin’”

You smile at his valiant offer and before you can stop it, you slowly open up “I just… sometimes, even when I don’t want to do those things again, I still think back to it. It’s like I’m reminiscing… and it can be hard to decipher whether my brain is thinking back because I want to be back there again or because I’m relieved I’m not…”.

You brace for the impact, scanning for the possible retreat in Negan’s eyes but instead, you see nothing but understanding.

“You don’t think I feel like that now that I’m a supposed free man?” He asks softly “Even now, there’s still days —usually when I get the hundredth dose of stink eye thrown towards me— that I wonder if I’d be better off disappearing back into that cage. Even though I fuckin’ hated being in there!”.

A strange sensation almost overwhelms you. The tension in your shoulders strangely ease and for the first time in ages, you're both not just survivors forced to endure; you're simply you and Negan is simply Negan.

Both of you flawed, real, and human. In his presence, vulnerability seems like less of a burden and more of a shared strength.

The air crackles with unspoken words and electric energy. You can almost taste the bittersweet mix of apprehension and desire. It's suffocating and you know you need an escape… but not by running away.

As you look into his eyes, something shifts within you. The world outside fades and all that matters is in this room. Right now, you want to cast aside any doubts and just embrace the thrill.

In a quick move, you step closer to him, invading his personal space. The sombre glint in Negan’s eyes transforms into something deeper.

Without thinking, you reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm and igniting a spark that sends a shiver through you both. Surprise flickers past his face before that signature grin breaks through, wide and knowing.

You lean in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “This has all been… a lot…” you begin, unsure how exactly you’re about to say this “and I think… I think I might just need—“

Negan doesn’t give you time to finish that sentence, your urge towards him telling him all he needs to know.

In one swift motion, he pulls you flush against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that ignites a wildfire of emotion. It’s a blend of urgency and tenderness, a collision of passion that leaves you breathless.

It’s dizzying, the way he makes you feel seen, even if it’s just for this heartbeat in time. You let yourself be swept away, surrendering to the connection that pulls you both together.

“Oh I know exactly what you need“ Negan mutters against your lips.

You pull him into another bruising kiss before egging him on further “Then show me”.

That’s all Negan needs, your request allowing him to let loose. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he slowly begins moving forward, forcing you back until you hit against a table. He grabs your waist and lifts you up onto it, his hands immediately going for the zip of your pants.

He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “You just sit back,” he instructs, pleased as you lift your hips and let him tug down your jeans, not stopping until they’re on the floor beside him “let me take care of everything, baby”.

In an instant, Negan is kneeling between your thighs, pressing soft kisses along both legs. You can feel the warmth gather at your core, immediately wanting to welcome every inch of him.

“Ready to turn off your brain for a bit? Hmm?” Looking up at you through his eyelashes, Negan places a gentle kiss on your clothed pussy.

He tries not to smirk as he feels your pussy pulsing desperately for him. Letting out a whimper, you nod.

“Ah ah ah,” Negan tuts, his tone as soft as it can be despite his scolding words “you made me wait a long fuckin’ time to show you a good time, you damn well know I’m not going to dig in until I hear you say it”.

“Fuck– Negan, yes,” you say breathlessly, glancing at the door as you do “please, I want you”. Even with how exposed you are, your mind is too hazy to care about the possibility of someone walking in. All your attention is on Negan’s breath that’s only a mere few centimetres away from your soaked pussy.

Kissing you through your panties again, Negan hooks a finger around the fabric and slowly pulls it to the side, carefully revealing his gift.

Without a second thought, he buries his face between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you from squirming away.

You gasp loudly, not expecting so much contact so quickly. You bite your lip to quieten your moans but it’s no use.

He looks up at you with his mouth full of your pussy, his eyes gleaming with desire. He sucks harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit.

He releases his hands from your hips to rub your ass, pulling you against his face. Mumbling against your most sensitive area, a shiver runs up your spine as he compliments “Mmm, best fuckin’ meal I’ve had in years.”

Your legs quiver as you get closer to the edge, your core helplessly clenching around nothing as he eats you out. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. And the one thing Negan wants now more than anything is to taste your release on his tongue.

“Come for me, doll” he growls encouraging, his stubble scratching your inner thighs.

With a series of whines and moans for more, you let go.

He keeps his face between your thighs, lapping up your essence as you come undone. Negan waits until you've stopped convulsing before he lifts his head up, wiping your gleaming juices away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He grins up at you, happy with his work. “Well, you wanted me…” he trails off purposefully, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your leg before giving a slight tug at your panties that are still pushed out of the way “so now you’re gonna get me”.

Negan hurriedly unbuckles his pants as he stands, freeing his hard cock and giving himself a few strokes, precum already dripping from the tip. Working in tandem, you yank down your panties and drop them next to your jeans.

Before your panties have time to hit the floor, Negan’s kissing you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, both of you as impatient at the other.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Negan continues to talk, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance, “this the distraction you were looking for?”.

You speak only in moans, going wild at the sensation of his cock being so close to your centre and yet still so far away from actually being inside of you.

He cups your chin, making you maintain eye contact as he presses you for an answer “I can’t hear you, sweetness”.

“Please, just do it” you pant, still not over your initial high.

He grins wider at your compliance and slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your body tenses as he stretches you out in a way that borders on painful. “Negan,” his name leaves your mouth as a haggard breath.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, you know you’re ready for it, you can take it” he coos, pushing all the way in before he stops to give you time to adjust.

He groans as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hips flush against yours. Attempting to be a gentleman, Negan starts slow.

His eyes leave yours, watching as he gradually pulls out. He grunts satisfactorily, filling you to the hilt again.

“Please,” you whimper “don’t tease”.

Negan chuckles, though his restraint is weakening “Patience is a virtue, darlin’”.

You tilt your head back, the slow force of Negan inside of you making your brain melt. All you want is already inside of you but it’s not enough. This isn’t a time for sweet love making.

You want to be fucked, plain and simple.

“Yeah and you’re a vice so fuck me already,” you nudge the heel your foot against his ass, trying to make him speed up. Negan smirks again, his ego adoring your words.

The table creaks under you when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room.

"You can take it, can’t you? Fuck yeah, I know you can" He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to pound into you.

You nod desperately, wanting to prove to him that you can take all he’s got to give. He hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wider and increasing his depth.

His movements become harder and faster, making sure you can feel every inch of him. You yearn it, trying desperately to shimmy your hips on the table to meet each thrust.

Negan pistons into you like a man on a mission, burying his face in by your neck as his hands frantically begin to explore your body. Negan knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity to finally see your tits.

His hands push up your shirt, hiking it up in a hurry as your bra comes into view. “Wanna introduce me to the girls?” He suggests, his breath coming out in hot pants against your neck.

At this moment, you want everything just as much as he does. Reaching down, you lift up your bra just enough for your breasts to come free.

Even though there’s no rush, it feels as though you don’t have the time to take off your bra properly, feeling that coil tighten in your lower stomach.

His eyes drop to your chest, and he licks his lips hungrily. “Goddamn, just when I thought you couldn’t get any better” Negan cups your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fuck into you. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh my fucking—” you groan out, interupting yourself with another moan. You grip the edge of the table enough to turn your knuckles white, your whole body feeling overwhelmed.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop and straightens up, his thumb trailing down to your swollen clit.

“C’mon darlin’, I need to feel ya clench around me,” Negan slams into you, his rhythm erratic as he nears his own release “one more time, baby, come for me”.

Your body convulses as it hits you. Gasps morph into a wave of quick, sharp pants as you clutch Negan any way you can. Feeling your pussy clamp down on his shaft, Negan’s hips sputter to a stop as the contractions send him over the edge with you.

It takes all of Negan’s willpower not to stay exactly how he is; with his dick buried deep inside of you.

But he knows better and quickly pulls out, releasing his load onto your inner thigh instead. He has to nuzzle his face in by your neck, silencing himself the best he can. The last thing either of you need is Negan to get loud and attract people from outside.

The sound of your mixed breaths fill the room as you both come back to your senses. You look down at the mess on your thigh, wondering how much longer you both have until someone comes looking for one of you.

“You know what?” Negan breaks the silence, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he moves to look at you “I think I like it when you open up”. He nudges your legs, a deep chuckling escaping him.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes “and get me a towel or something”. He licks his lips, his mind already wondering what your next session will be like, subtly noting how much he likes hearing you order him around.

He nods “Yes ma’am”.

Leaning down, Negan searches the back pockets of his pants before pulling out a small handkerchief.

“Now,” he announces as he gently wipes his cum off of your thigh “my cum rag can become ours”.

“Negan!” You exclaim, your hands busy yanking your bra and shirt back down to push the rag away from you “Don’t use your dirty cum rag on me!!”.

Negan chuckles, his smile alone keeping your annoyance at bay. “I’m just fucking with ya, it ain’t a cum rag,” he wipes the last drop of himself off your leg “but now that we’ve christened it as a cum rag, I guess that means we'll have to use it again”.

Negan winks as if you don’t get the obvious insinuation and before you can object, he kisses you. You’re quick to reciprocate, knowing that there’s no way you’d turn down an opportunity like this again.

A faint smirk graces his face as Negan pulls back, pleased with the fact that you returned his kiss.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Negan clears his throat “But seriously, next time you need to talk to somebody, or open up them legs, I’m your man”.

You smile at the sincerity of his words, knowing he’s completely and utterly serious about both offers.

Thinking for a moment, you agree “I will”.

He holds up his pinky “Promise? And then I’ll help you into your jeans?”.

You scoff as if he’s inconveniencing you by making you a pinky promise but you both know you appreciate the gesture. Lifting your pinky up to his, they hook together.

“Promise”.

And with that, Negan steals one more kiss before helping you back into your jeans.

307 notes · View notes

girlokwhatever · 6 months ago

Text

⚘⋆.ೃ࿔✧*ੈ˚ ༘♡⋆❀ she loves me, she loves me not,,

part 2 ; discover me and reality

previous part - next part

paige bueckers x fem!reader (fake dating trope)

the gravity of your situation didn’t sink in until the next morning. a few of your friends messaged you during the night, some of them including girls from the basketball team. apparently bianca had posted all about it on her finsta, dissing you and paige and claiming you were a ‘cheating slut.’

you also noted quite a few missed calls and texts from bianca. you couldn’t help but read them, noticing her text demeanor is much different than how she is online. she’s practically begging you to talk to her, pleading with you to answer the phone.

you didn’t really think it all through and as soon as you read all of those messages, it hit you like a fucking bus. were you and paige going to keep this up? or was it a dumb drunk decision she made and was now regretting it?

there was only one way to find out. you didn’t want to confront her about it though, embarrassment seeping through you along with last night’s memories. you couldn’t even believe yourself, asking your best friend to be your fake girlfriend. let alone a girl you knew you had been avoiding for two months.

you groan into your pillow, letting your poor decisions rack over your head. you couldn’t deny the way your pace quickened at the thought of paige being your girlfriend, even if it wasn’t real. everyone thought it was. you push the thought away, immediately feeling quilty for thinking of your best friend that way.

you lift your head when you feel a gentle knock on your half-opened bedroom door. you see paige, standing in all her glory. she has a sweat set on, long blonde hair down and wavy, adorning her shoulders. if your heart wasn’t skipping beats before, it certainly was now.

“paige! hi!” your speech is breathless and short, shocked to see her in your apartment. you hope she didn’t catch you in your little moment, unaware of how long she’s been here. you remember that you’re half-naked under the covers, making note to keep them up and above your chest. it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before probably, but it’s different now.

“hey, i didn’t mean to wake you up or anything. jus wanted to check on you.”

“oh um, i’m good. yeah, good.” you struggle to find your words between the way she takes your breath away and how nervous you are. get it together. “how are you?”

“oh y’know, i’m good. hey i wanted to ask you something, i don’t know if you’ll really remember but.. last night bianca said something about how you and me-” she’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing, bianca’s name flashing across your screen. paige shamelessly looks, mood immediately dropping.

much like bianca never liked paige, paige never liked bianca. your best friend always felt as if you were too good for her and deserved better. she still believes that. she believes she can be your better.

your eyes linger a little longer than paige would’ve hoped, taking note of your conflicted and angered expression.

“hey, since i woke you up you should let me buy you some coffee. i can get you breakfast too.”

you ended up accepting her offer, the two of you spending a few hours together getting coffee and walking around in town. as soon as you got back to your apartment, paige’s phone started going crazy with calls from her teammates, kk in particular.

she answered, leaning against your kitchen counter and propping her phone up. it didn’t go unnoticed how she filled your space so naturally. you were really glad the new situation you found yourselves in didn’t make anything awkward between the two of you.

not yet at least.

“PAIGE- it’s real right? the news?”

“what news?”

“girl boo don’t play right now- you and princess!”

while you and paige were out, you came up with a few rules for your ‘relationship.’ one of those was that it was a sworn secret between only the two of you, no one else. it meant you’d both have to lie to your friends, even those closest to you, but you couldn’t risk a slip up. the thought of everyone finding out you plotted an entire fake relationship just to make your ex jealous horrified you— you couldn’t let her win.

“oh yeah, real stuff.” she angled her phone towards you as you packed away some minimal groceries. kk caught glimpse of you and screamed, cheering about how her ‘two favorite people are together!’

“ok so boom- you guys should come over to the team dorm tonight. we’re throwing you a couples welcoming party!”

“a what?!”

“paige girl just come. and bring your new cute girlfriend with you. we love you princess!”

“i love you kk!”

after the call ended you and paige decided to lounge around, watching a couple of movies and catching up on the latest trends. it made you happy to just have her around, finding yourself falling back into your close bond with her.

she was happy too, esthetic really. after two months of you distancing yourself and pushing her away, she was finally back to normal with you. as close to normal as you can get with your best-friend-turned-fake-girlfriend. she missed being in your apartment, rummaging through all your dvd movies she’s seen a million times already. she missed your soft blankets and the signature scent of your home that she couldn’t find anywhere else. it was everything that made you, you.

eventually the two of you had to get ready. your process was a bit longer than hers, but she still got up when you did. you tossed her a slightly nicer, more presentable outfit she left at your place after a group sleepover once. you disappeared after that, starting your own routine.

“i’m bored,” she walks into your bathroom, leaning against the counter as she watches you. you sneak a glance at her, noticing her expression.

“you can leave before me, s’not a big deal.”

“i think it’d be weird if we didn’t show up together for our inauguration party.”

“oh, right. you’re right.”

she goes silent again, watching as you put the finishing touches on your makeup and adjust your clothes. she shamelessly admires you while you’re not paying attention, entranced by the way you look. even by the way your chest rises with each breath.

“are we going to talk about it?”

“i thought we went over everything this morning?”

“no not that. i’m talking about what bianca said last night. about you and me sneaking around.” you pause, staring your own reflection in the eye. you can’t make eye contact with her out of fear you’ll give yourself away so you just pretend to touch up a spot on your chin.

“it’s nothing really. she was just paranoid. she said that about all my friends,” it wasn’t a complete lie, bianca had suspicions of each of your friends. paige though, she garnered the majority of bianca’s accusations. you couldn’t tell her she’s the reason you and bianca broke up. paige feels her heart sink a bit and she knows it’s wrong. it’s wrong to want bianca be jealous and insecure of the relationship you have with paige, at least while you two were together. but you’re not together anymore. you’re with paige now. in a sense.

“oh, alright. makes sense i guess.”

as soon as paige pushes you through the door of her dorm, party confetti and party horns are in your face. it’s loud, everyone either blowing some whistle or simply cheering. you didn’t think your new public status with paige would excite them so much.

“happy one day anniversary yall!! that we know of..” kk flashes both of you dirty looks, her way of scolding you for not telling everyone sooner. they’re oblivious to the fact that it would’ve been impossible to let this know, considering it was completely new for you and paige as well.

balloons adorn the walls and ceiling, a small cake rests on the counter, neon lights everywhere, they really went all out. there’s even a banner with your and paige’s ship name on it.

“guys..”

“our fav couple deserves nothing but the best,” azzi smiles and pats your shoulder, pulling you with her as everyone floods the kitchen. she serves you your favorite at home drink, liquid swishing as you take a swig. you were gonna need it.

“i don’t know who asked who, but one of yall just won me fifty bucks,” nika grins, showing her venmo to everyone. kk rolls her eyes, clueing that she was probably the one on the other end of that bet.

“you guys made a bet on when we’d get together?” you ask, completely unaware of why this was even a thing.

“months ago.”

paige is frozen, face red as she stands statue still. every once in awhile she’d drop a hint at her admiration for you and she really hopes no one says anything, all completely unaware you don’t actually know paige has real feelings for you. she was stressed, positive she was going to break out in a sweat.

“ok enough of that. let’s eat some cake!” she tries to avert the conversation, giving kk a warning glare and nudging nika with her elbow. she couldn’t have anything going wrong tonight. or ever, really.

amari cuts the cake, serving everyone an equal slice. everyone found a spot in the living room, you cozying up next to paige on the couch. you were sitting between her legs, back to her chest as everyone gathered.

“so how’d it happen?”

“probably during sex or something-”

“no kk, bad.” ice scolds, watching kk give her best puppy dog eyes. you couldn’t believe how over the moon everyone was about it, never having heard any romantic innuendoes connecting you to paige.

“we were just hanging out, like usual. it kinda just happened.”

“how long ago?”

“uh, a few weeks ago.”

you’re glad paige decided to take the lead on answering the questions. they came up with them like rapid fire, some of them completely random. most of those came from kk and ice though.

“well, we’re glad it finally happened. we were beginning to think paige would never do it.”

that shocks you and stills paige, both of your breaths hitching, you didn’t want to jump to conclusions about what caroline was saying but it was hard not to, it was an outright insinuation of paige having romantic feelings for you. she knew it too, not sure on how she was going to get herself out of it. nika notices paige’s expression, narrowing her eyes in her direction.

“well, it’s a shame what bianca is saying about you online. you didn’t actually cheat on her right?”

“of course she didn’t. bianca’s just a bitch.” paige’s tone is filled with malice, mood swinging at the mention of your ex. you didn’t expect such a vulgar response from her, eyebrows furrowing in mixed emotions.

“paige-”

“bianca’s an insecure person that deserves to rot alone.”

you immediately nudge her, silencing her unfiltered thoughts. you didn’t know why she was acting like this, having very seldom seen this side of her.

everyone becomes distracted quickly, giving you the opportunity to address her hostility.

“okay, chill. what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing. jus defending you. is that a problem?”

“defending me from what, paige? the ghost of christmas past?”

at that she’s silent, fully aware that you’re right. bianca isn’t here and yet she’s still saying all these things. part of paige, the irrational part, gets upset at the way you still defend bianca. the more rational side empathizes with you, understanding that you’re probably still healing.

“yeah, alright. fine. my bad.”

you figure that’s the best apology you’ll get from her so you take it. phasing back to reality around you, you notice everyone has dispersed into groups, each one louder than the next. you and paige mingle, sticking together. eventually after an hour you find yourselves alone, paige creating an invisible protective barrier around you. her aura surrounds you and you swear you can almost feel it.

“enjoying the party?” the gives you flashbacks to last night when she asked nearly the same question, when things were simple.

“it’s good. never thought i’d go to a party celebrating something i made up though. i feel bad, lying to all of them.”

“they’ll be okay.”

it’s in this moment you realize eventually this will have to end. the reality of paige’s breath fanning your face, her pulse against your own, eyes locked with yours, makes you want to sink in on yourself. this can’t last forever, eventually it’ll end. you’ll ‘break up’ and possibly lose your close friendship with all the women in the room, all the women you’ve grown to love like family.

the thought itself makes you want to pull away, you can hardly stand to look paige in the eye. you already feel the barrier she’s built around you breaking, shattering to the ground in a million pieces. you want to run and never look back, never check to see if she’s following. but you don’t, you can’t. your heart sinks, stomach dropping and you feel sick.

you realize, truthfully and honestly, that you made the wrong decision.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

UMMMM PLOT PROGRSS IDK??!!!!!

i love you guys

make good decisions!!! (cough cough celeste)

#paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #lgbtq #lgbtqia #wlw slay #wlw yearning #wlw post #wlw angst #angst #fake dating #lesbian #bisexual

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btsgotjams27 · 8 months ago

Text

things you didn't say | jjk

summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.

✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?) ✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist ✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing ✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.

✨ read part one | read part two ✨

The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.

All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.

And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.

You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.

Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.

He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.

Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.

Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”

You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”

“The planters or the plants?”

He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”

“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them.

“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.

“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”

“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”

You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.

“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”

“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”

You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”

“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.

The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.

You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.”

Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”

He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.

You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”

“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”

A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.

“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.

“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.

Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”

Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”

You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.

Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.

“Let me take you home, at least.”

You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.

“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”

“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”

The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.

As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”

“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”

Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.

You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”

“Can I call or text you sometime?”

“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.

He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.

A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”

Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.

But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?

If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.

Cucumbers.

Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.

As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.

With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.

“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”

Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”

“Deserve what?”

You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.

“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.

As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.

“Well, don’t.”

Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”

Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.

Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.

He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”

“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.

A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Jungkook 1:34 PM Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.

You 1:35 PM Define small.

Incoming Call Jungkook

“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”

“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”

It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.

“No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”

The big question is: will Josie be there?

A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.

Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”

You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”

“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.

You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”

“Cool! See you on Friday.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”

“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.

As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.

You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.

Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”

Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”

“Clearly.”

As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.

“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”

“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”

Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”

“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”

She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”

“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.

“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”

“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.

“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”

Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”

The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.

You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?

And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.

“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?

You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.

Things happen in life that don’t make sense.

Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.

“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.

“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”

The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.

You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.

Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.

The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.

Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.

You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.

“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.

“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?

“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”

You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!

You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”

Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.

Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.

The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.

Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.

You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.

Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.

“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.

“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.

“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”

The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.

“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”

You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”

“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.

“You should become a private chef or something.”

He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”

“I hate you.”

His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”

“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”

Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.

Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.

He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”

“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.

“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.

With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.

Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.

Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”

Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”

“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.

“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.

You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”

He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”

You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.

“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.

“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”

Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.

Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”

There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.

Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.

“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”

“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”

Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.

Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”

Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.

“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.

You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.

Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”

“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.

You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.

“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.

Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”

Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.

“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”

He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.

Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”

Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”

“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.

“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.

Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.

Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.

“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.

Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”

Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.

“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.

He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.

The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”

“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”

“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”

You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.

“Got a whole box ready for you.”

Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”

Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.

“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”

The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.

“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”

He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.

“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”

The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”

Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.

You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?

“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.

Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.

“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.

Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”

Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?

He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”

There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”

“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

If it was only that easy.

You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”

“I hate what I did to you—”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can.

“Then explain.”

Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”

Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.

“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”

The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.

Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”

“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”

A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.

Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.

“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.

He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”

You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”

“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.

“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”

He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”

“Until…?”

“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”

You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?

“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”

There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.

“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”

Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.

“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”

Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”

Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.

As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”

Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”

Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”

“What’s that?”

His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.

A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.

“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”

You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”

While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.

And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: things you didn't say

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imagine-you · 1 month ago

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I Will Avenge My Ghost [Bucky Barnes/Reader]

Summary: Your sacrifice on Vormir was meant to be your end. You did it for love. You did it for family. And you had no regrets in your decision to be the one to jump instead of Steve. But you never expected to wake up in Wakanda and you certainly never thought that you would still lose Steve and your sister in the years since your death. While you can't get Steve back, you're determined to figure out what happened to your sister and you end up dragging Bucky along for the ride. Your questions lead you to Westview, a sleepy little town harboring a dark past, and a witch named Agatha Harkness. Will you find what you truly seek down, down, down the Witches' Road or will Death finally come to claim you?

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: I was going to hold off on this, but I watched episode seven and I had so many feelings I literally wrote this last night. If you enjoy this and would like to see this continue, please let me know!

Read On AO3

When you jumped off the cliff at Vormir, the decision had been easy. It had been a long five years without your sister and you would have given anything for Wanda. You would also give anything for Steve, and if this brought you closer to winning the war against Thanos and bringing all the lost back, then you would do it.

A sacrifice of love was needed and you had nothing but love to give for those two. You couldn't live in a world without Steve and while he wanted to do the noble thing, you knew you would never be able to go on without him. So, you used your power one last time to push Steve far away from the edge of the cliff and then threw yourself over it.

As you fell, you could hear Steve crying out for you. You always assumed your life would flash before your eyes like everyone claimed it would. But all you saw was Vormir's sky eclipsed by Steve reaching over the cliff's edge, as if he could still reach you. And then you saw nothing at all.

You didn't remember hitting the rocks below, but the only people on your mind as death rushed to meet you were Steve and Wanda. Steve, selfless and sacrificing, and how much he yearned for his best friend, the person who truly understood him above all else, Bucky. And your sister, who had drifted away into dust and oblivion after losing the love of her life. Wanda, who had been forced to kill Vision, only to have it all be for nothing. Her grief had sent shockwaves through you and you would never forget the raw pain that had radiated off her after losing Vis. You couldn't bring Pietro back, and while his death would always weigh on your mind, you knew that you could bring Wanda back into the land of the living.

You would make it right. You had to. Even if this was your end, then at least it meant something. At least it was used to save countless others.

Death flowed endlessly around you in glimpses of life and snatches of memories, remembered and forgotten. They fell right through your grasp, never yours to begin with, but a tether to the world you longed to revisit. You fought and struggled, pulling at strands and words, willing them to materialize. You followed a lead, a road, that appeared before you and at the end, you expected to find Death.

No one will ever be tempted by the darkhold again.

I miss you. God, I miss you so much.

I got my dance. I owed her that. I owed myself that.

I can't feel you.

We can't reverse death.

You're gonna need me.

Immortality never meant anything to me before, but I suppose you’re not mine after all. Not yet, at least. Don’t say I never did you any favors.

You didn't expect to wake up.

You felt breath expand your lungs and you sat up with a gasp. You didn't know where you were or what had happened to you, but all you could think was that you failed. You had traded your life for the billions of others that had been snapped away by Thanos. If you were here, alive, then it had all been for nothing.

"Hey, hey," someone was saying, and you could feel hands on your shoulders, but you didn't want to lift your head to try to see who was attempting to talk to you. "She's freaking out here. Don't you think you should do something, Shuri?"

"And what would you have me do, Bucky? This might not even really be her. I thought her magic was blue."

"It was," someone said. Bucky, you realized. It was Bucky who had you by the shoulders. "Hey, doll," Bucky tried, bringing a finger up to tuck under your chin and force your head up.

You met Bucky's eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. He hadn’t been wrong. You were freaking out, but it wasn’t going to do you any good now. You needed to figure out what the fuck was going on.

"Bucky?" You tried, your words coming out as a rasp. "Am I alive?"

Bucky looked like he was torn between relief and confusion. "Yeah, you're here with us." He gestured at the other two people in the room. You recognized one as King T'Challa's sister and you had already known Sam.

"How did I get here? I died on Vormir. Or...I thought I did. I don't remember dying," you told them, trying to remember what happened. Death hadn't felt like an end, more like a journey. You had felt, all the while, like you were being lead somewhere. Maybe, you couldn't help but think, it was bringing you here.

"We don't know how you got here," Sam interjected. His arms were crossed and he was wearing a new suit. It wasn't his usual Falcon getup. It was more reminiscent of Steve's, showcasing red, white, and blue with a star on the chest. The shield was strapped to his back, and you started to panic again.

"Where's Steve?" You quickly let your gaze shift from Sam to Bucky again. “Bucky, where’s Steve? Did he make it? God, I gave up everything for him and if he still died...,” you trailed off, letting the thought go unfinished. It didn’t bear thinking about.

Bucky turned to throw a look over his shoulder at Sam. You couldn't see Bucky's expression, but you could sure as hell see Sam's.

Grief. Remorse. Apology. Pain.

"No," you denied with a quick shake of your head. "I jumped so he would live. I jumped so he would get to have a life." You could feel a strange new energy thrumming along your limbs, and you didn't know how to contain it. You felt restless, an urgency rising within you that you didn't know how to quell.

"He did," Bucky assured you, finally looking at you again. You felt like his hands on you was the only thing keeping you together, so when he made to draw away, you latched onto his shirt, pulling him closer. "Okay, okay," he soothed, moving to sit on the edge of the examination you realized you were lying on.

He was treating you like a frightened animal, and you didn’t know how to feel about that. You were torn between seeking comfort in the familiarity of him and lashing out for letting you be so vulnerable. It wasn’t his fault. He was only doing what he could for you, but you were caught between anger and fear, and nothing good ever came out of that particular combination.

"Then what happened? Where is he?" You demanded, looking from Sam to Shuri and back to Bucky again.

"He...," Sam paused at another look from Bucky. "Well, she's gonna find out eventually."

"What?" You snapped, hating that everyone in the room knew something you didn't. "What happened after I jumped?"

"We defeated Thanos and the people he snapped away came back," Bucky told you, giving you the tiniest hint of a smile when your shoulders began to slump with relief. Before he started talking, his lips twisted to the side in a grimace and you knew he was about to throw you back into the deep end. "But, you've gotta realize that winning that war nearly destroyed Steve. He told me what happened on Vormir and he told me what he wanted to do."

You were briefly distracted by a shimmer in the air around Bucky. You hadn't realized it before, but the air around him seemed to faintly glow red. As he spoke, it shifted to a light blue, and you were so distracted by the sight that you missed his next words.

"You alright there, Maximoff?" Sam called, breaking you out of your fascination. The air around Sam seemed to glow just the slightest hint of green while Shuri had a purple aura around her.

"I don't know?" You answered, ducking your hand to look at your hands. You felt off, somehow. You had never really been the same, not since losing your parents at a young age and having to look out for your younger brother and sister. After being subjected to experiments by sadistic scientists and coming out the other side with superpowers, you figured you would never lead a normal life. Steve had been the closest thing you had ever gotten to a fairytale ending and now he was gone.

You felt unmoored, adrift, in this new reality and you were waiting to crash down again. You only hoped you would be given the opportunity to brace for impact when the time came.

A light danced across your fingers, your magic beginning to flare up with your frustration. You had never been anywhere on your sister's level, your magic blue where hers was red and chaotic. But you had also been able to tame a flame and throw objects around with just a thought. She would always be the more powerful of the two of you, but you had held your own well enough in a fight.

The magic that pushed up beneath your skin to pool in your palm was no longer blue, but orange.

"Huh," you breathed, no longer able to accept that you were rooted in reality. "This is the weirdest dream ever." You finally looked back up at Bucky, catching his worried expression. "You think this is what I'm seeing before I die?"

"Doll, that's what I've been trying to tell you. You did die," he stressed, tightening his grip on your shoulders. "There was never a body. Steve wanted to bring you back, but you just weren't there."

"The soul stone must have claimed her. It did require a sacrifice," Shuri observed with a thoughtful noise. "I could tell something was happening. There was just too much energy and while I thought it was your sister, it turned out to be you swirling around in the air like a ghost. I still have no idea how you corporealized and got here from Vormir, but you're living and breathing," she assured you, gesturing towards a monitor you realized was showing your heartbeat, oxygen levels, and other vitals.

There were too many worries crowding your mind and you tried to sort them out. You thought if you could just focus, then maybe something would start to make sense.

"Steve?" You tried again, not able to accept that he might be gone.

"He passed on," Sam said, his tone somber and apologetic. “Wasn’t that long ago, but I’m sorry to tell you, he’s no longer with us.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but you shook your head.

"No, tell me," you demanded, trying to force yourself to breathe. “I’m not going to get anywhere with you hiding things from me.” You wanted to scream and rage, but you weren't sure what your magic would do if you gave into the instinct. It was new, something you had to relearn, and you didn't want to hurt Bucky, Sam, or Shuri because you couldn't control it.

"He, uh, well," Bucky started with a wince. "He had to bring the stones back to their original homes. He told me before he left that he was never going to be able to save you. Your death was tied to the fate of billions and there was nothing he could do to get you back. The soul stone wouldn't return you, but the time stone could still give him a life. It could help him right some past wrongs and regrets."

Bucky stopped talking, but you didn't need him to continue. You could almost see it playing out like a movie in your mind. Steve searching for you one last time on Vormir only to be informed that you were no longer there. Steve leaving and finding Peggy. Steve finally getting his dance. Steve getting his happy ending.

Without you.

You pulled away from Bucky, your hands curling into themselves as you felt your power build up. A brilliant, blinding orange light caressed your skin and you threw your hands out to the sides, releasing everything that had been building up.

You let out a scream, throwing your head back as you attempted to claw back control from the wild impulse of your magic. It was untamed, no longer held under your will, and you felt like it would tear you apart. It was lighting you up from the inside and you were distantly aware of the smell of smoke and flame.

Someone was shouting your name, attempting to bring you back to yourself. But all you could feel was pain and the agony of losing Steve after all was almost too much for you to take.

Someone wrapped their arms around you, trapping your arms at your sides. It was enough to pull you out of your grief, the surprise of being so fully embraced while you were feeling like a bomb that had finally gone off shocked you into finally reeling your magic back in and storing it away.

Bucky had you in a tight hold, but it wasn't restricting. It was comfort and reassurance and understanding.

“You couldn’t have done that before she burned a hole through the floor?” Shuri wondered, sounding exasperated.

“Where do you keep your fire extinguisher?” Sam wondered, his voice drifting away as he searched for something to put out the fire that was still raging on the floor.

"I know," he was whispering, ignoring all the alarms you had accidentally set off. You could hear Shuri cursing and Sam rifling through a cabinet. "I know, alright? It hurts. It hurts me too," Bucky confided in you, keeping his voice low enough so only you could hear him. “But you’ve gotta keep it in right now. Just for now. And then I’ll get you someplace where you can let it all go. Once we know you’re okay,” he added after a moment.

You let your arms wrap around Bucky's waist, resting your head on his shoulder. He brought a hand up, letting it curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place. You could feel tears tracking down your cheeks, but you no longer wanted to cry. You had gotten your answer, and while it wasn't what you wanted, you couldn't begrudge Steve a happy ending. Not after everything he had given up to save the world time and again.

You absentmindedly reached a hand out, drawing on the flames and letting the fire fall into your hand. You closed your hand into a fist, letting it die.

“Neat trick you’ve got there. You couldn’t have done that sooner?” Sam asked, finally brandishing a fire extinguisher that was no longer needed.

“Perhaps we should give them a moment,” Shuri suggested to Sam. “Why don’t you come look at these readouts with me?”

“I’m not a toddler. You don’t have to distract me,” Sam grumbled, but he dutifully followed Shuri to the other side of the room, leaving you and Bucky with a small measure of privacy.

"I'm sorry," you muttered into Bucky's shoulder, letting yourself only focus on him. "I'm sorry he left you. He really loved you, you know."

"Yeah," Bucky huffed out on a humorless laugh. "He really loved you too."

You stayed like that for a while, soaking up Bucky's presence while everything fell apart around you.

"Sam's Cap now?" You checked, knowing that if Sam wielded the shield, then he had taken on the mantle. “He’s good for it.” You knew that if Steve had passed on the shield to Sam, then it was with very good reason. You had always assumed that if Steve retired, then Bucky would take on the role of Captain America, but looking at him now, Bucky just seemed tired. Maybe he didn’t so much want to play hero as he wanted to simply stop looking over his shoulder at every turn waiting for his past to resurface.

"Yeah," Bucky answered, finally pulling away enough to look at you. "You missed a lot while you were gone, you know."

"How long has it been since I died, Bucky?" Steve was gone and Sam was Captain America and Bucky seemed less constrained, but still wary. It was a monumental change, but you had a sinking feeling it was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Years." Bucky watched you in silence for a long, drawn-out moment. You heard the door open, but didn't bother to see if it was admitting someone new or if Shuri and Sam had finally had enough of pretending they weren’t eavesdropping on your conversation with Bucky. "Look, there's something I should tell you, but after how you reacted to Steve, I don't know how you're gonna take this."

"What are you--"

"I almost didn't believe it," someone interrupted, and you finally looked over to see Stephen Strange standing in the doorway. "It's miraculous is what it is," he continued, not aware of the way you tensed at his presence.

There was something dark in the air around him. It looked as if something had latched on to him and was content to be a passenger. You didn't know why you were literally seeing people in a new light, but you knew that whatever had happened with Stephen wasn't good. It was like it had left a stain on his soul.

"Stephen," you greeted with a nod of your head. "What the hell happened to you? You’re...different," you decided, watching how the inky wisps attached to his aura pulsed at your words. You couldn’t tell if it was something separate or if it was simply a part of Strange now.

Stephen's brow furrowed in confusion. He shot Bucky a look and then Sam and Shuri. "Did you--?" He let the question hang, waiting for them to answer.

"No," Shuri told him, watching you in interest. "She's changed. Her power has evolved with her death."

You swung your legs over the side of the table and let yourself stand. Bucky reached out to help you or hold you back, you weren't sure, but you waved him off. Another question had come to mind, and you instinctively knew that Stephen would have something to do with the answer you were seeking. Shuri had mentioned your sister earlier and now she was all you could think about. Why did Shuri it was your sister trying to materialize? Wasn’t Wanda alive? You would never get Steve back, and you would never want to rip away whatever peace he had stolen for himself. But Wanda would need you. Wanda always needed you. If something had happened to her in your absence, then it was your job to find her and help her.

So, you met Stephen's gaze and held your head high, not wanting to show even a hint of weakness.

"Where's my sister?" You asked, daring him to lie to you. You could see a flicker of uncertainty in his expression as you advanced on him. You could feel the tempting crackle of your power tingling along your fingers. You longed to see Wanda, knowing that she would be the only thing keeping you from truly falling apart. Your sacrifice had cost you more than your life. It had cost you Steve. And you would be damned if it also cost you your sister.

You felt like your soul was reaching out to her, your entire being aching to pull her back into your orbit, but there was a strange emptiness inside you. It was like she was drifting further away from you by the second.

Stephen met your gaze, never letting it stray. "What do you know about the darkhold?" Stephen finally responded after what felt like an eternity waiting for any news about what had happened to your sister.

It wasn't what you wanted to hear and you couldn't help but lash out with your magic. It had been coiled, ready to strike, and who were you to deny it when you finally had a worthy target?

You had expected to simply push him with your power. It had been a familiar defensive response before your death, but now your magic seemed to take hold of the reigns. It curled out away from you and wrapped around his throat. You could hear his breath cut off and Bucky was calling your name, but you didn't care.

There was only one thing you cared about at the moment and Stephen Strange seemed to hold all the answers.

So, you decided to give him one more chance and posed the question that had overtaken your mind.

"Where's Wanda?" Additional Author's Note: If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!!

#agatha all along #marvel #marvel imagine #agatha all along imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader is a maximoff #agatha all along x reader #reader insert #imagine #bucky barnes imagine #agatha all along spoilers #spoilers #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #my fic #i will avenge my ghost fic

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gratelove · 3 months ago

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Take Me

Jon Snow x Reader

In a secret rendezvous, Jon Snow and his lifelong friend confess their love, struggling with the societal barriers that keep them apart. Faced with Jon's impending departure to the Night's Watch, they decide to give themselves to one another, stealing a moment from the world, a moment that was theirs and theirs alone.

Warnings: 18+, p in v, virginity, fluff, smut

The dim glow of the fire was the only light in the room, casting shadows on the stone walls of Jon Snow’s bedroom. The flames danced and crackled, filling the silence with their rhythmic song. The winter wind howled outside, its icy fingers clawing at the castle’s sturdy walls. But inside, beneath a thick pile of furs, warmth reigned supreme.

Jon lay on his back, his bare chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. His dark hair spilled over the pillow, framing his face in a mess of curls. You lay beside him, propped up on your elbow, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. You watched your own movements, the way his skin felt warm and smooth under your fingertips, like silk stretched over steel.

“Remember that time you tried to ride Ghost like a horse?” Jon asked, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His voice was soft, as if he were afraid of breaking the tranquility of the moment.

You chuckled, your hand pausing mid-circle. “I was sloshed, Jon. I thought he was big enough to carry me.” Your eyes glinted with the memory, the corners of your mouth curling up into a smile. “To be fair, he didn’t seem to mind until you came running out, screaming like I was trying to kill him.”

Jon shook his head, his smile widening. “You could have broken your neck. Ghost may be big, but he’s no horse.”

You laughed softly, the sound a melody against the crackling of the fire. “And who taught him to knock me off with a nudge of his head, hmm? You spent weeks training him to do that, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Maybe. I couldn’t let my best friend go around thinking direwolves were for riding. What kind of man would that make me?”

“A smart one,” you teased, leaning down to rest your head against his shoulder. Your finger resumed its lazy path over his chest, tracing the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin. “You’ve always been a better man than you gave yourself credit for.”

Jon’s expression softened, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I don’t know about that,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s a lot I don’t know. So many things I’ve done… mistakes I’ve made.”

You lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. “We all make mistakes, Jon. It’s what we do after that matters.” Your hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing against his stubble. “You’re a good man, Jon Snow.”

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the truth in your words. Finally, he sighed and nodded, his gaze softening. “Thank you,” he said simply, and the warmth in his voice matched the fire’s glow.

You fell into a comfortable silence, the firelight flickering over your faces. Outside, the wind howled again, a reminder of the harsh winter beyond the walls. But here, in this room, you were safe, wrapped in warmth and the familiarity of each other.

“Do you remember the day we first met?” you asked, breaking the quiet. Your voice was low, tinged with nostalgia. “You were what, ten? And you were trying to shoot an arrow straight into the heart of that practice dummy.”

Jon chuckled, nodding. “I missed every shot that day. I was so nervous.” He turned his head to look at you, his eyes sparkling with the memory. “You were there with your father. He introduced us, and you didn’t even say a word. Just stared at me with those big eyes of yours.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I was so shy back then. You were the one who broke the ice. You said I looked like a lost pup.”

Jon grinned. “And you kicked me in the shin for it.”

“And you deserved it,” you said, giggling. “I was not a lost pup.”

“No,” Jon agreed, pulling you closer under the furs. “You were always stronger than you looked.” He paused, his expression turning serious. “And you still are. You’ve been with me through everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nestled closer, resting your head against his chest. Jon’s arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your shoulder in a gentle rhythm. The action caused a shiver to rush down your spine. His fingers were like fire on your skin, burning hot with each touch.

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face, softened in the glow of the firelight. Jon’s eyes were closed, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. His features were relaxed, more at peace than you had seen him in a long time. Your heart ached with the love you felt for him, a love that had always been there, growing silently until it could no longer be denied.

“Jon,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

He opened his eyes, turning his head to meet your gaze. “Hmm?”

You smiled, your hand reaching out to touch his face. Your fingers brushed over his cheek, down to his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. “I love you,” you said softly, the words hanging in the air between you.

Jon’s expression softened, his eyes darkening with emotion. He turned his head to kiss the inside of your wrist, his lips warm against your skin. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice a low murmur. He peppered kisses down your arm and the sensation caused you to squeeze your thighs together at the ache it created in your core.

The look in his eyes sent a shiver through you, a longing you had been trying to suppress rising to the surface. You shifted closer, your body pressing against his, your hand moving from his face to his chest, once again. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palm, the heat of his skin as your hand traveled lower.

“Jon,” you whispered again, your voice trembling. Your hand moved farther, finding the hem of his trousers. “I want to be with you,” you said, your eyes locked on his. “All of you.”

Jon stiffened at your words, his eyes searching yours. “Y/N, we can’t,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

You bit your lip, your eyes filling with a mixture of sadness and desperation. “But you’re leaving soon,” you said, your voice breaking. “To join the Night’s Watch. Once you take the black, you’ll be sworn to celibacy. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever see you again. I want to be with you, Jon. Before you go. I want you to be my first.”

Jon sat up, his face tightening with conflict. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes filled with pain. “I can’t,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re a lady of the North, and I’m a bastard. If we did this… if anyone found out…”

“No one will find out,” you interrupted, sitting up as well, your voice trembling. “I don’t care what people think. I don’t care about titles. I care about you. I want you, Jon. I want my first time to be with someone I love. With you.”

Jon looked away, his jaw clenched. “If I did that,” he said quietly, “I’d be taking something from you. Something that can’t be given back. If you lost your maidenhead to me, it would ruin your chances of finding a husband. A good man who can give you a life, a home, a family. You deserve that.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “What if I don’t want that?” You asked softly. “What if I don’t want some lord, or a life that means nothing to me? What if all I want is you?”

Jon turned back to you, his eyes filled with sorrow. “You think that now,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “But what about in the future? What about when you want children, a real home? I can’t give you those things. Not openly. I’d always be a secret. You’d always be living a half-life, hiding in the shadows.”

“I don’t care,” you insisted, your voice rising with desperation. “I don’t care about the future, or what might happen. I care about now. About this moment. I don’t want to look back and regret not being with you when I had the chance. Please, Jon. Just this once.”

Jon’s face softened, his eyes filled with love and sadness. He reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “More than anything. But I can’t let you ruin your life for me. I can’t be the reason you lose everything.”

“You’re not ruining my life,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You’re the only thing that makes me happy. If you leave, and we never… If we don’t share this moment, I’ll always regret it. I’ll always wonder what it would have been like.”

Jon closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall. He knew the truth, even if he wished it were different. In the eyes of the world, he was nothing more than a bastard, a stain on the Stark family name. He had no lands, no title, no claim to any future. The best he could hope for was to join the Night’s Watch, to live out his days in service on the Wall. He had nothing to offer you but a life of secrecy, of stolen moments and hidden love.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t. If you regret this later, I’d never forgive myself.”

You looked at him, your eyes pleading. “But I love you,” you said, your voice cracking. “And you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

Jon pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. “It is enough,” he whispered. “It has to be enough. Because I can’t lose you, and I can’t be the one to take away your choices. I won’t be the reason you’re unhappy.”

“I am a woman that is capable of making my own decisions. You do not decide for me. I decide for myself. I get to choose what I will regret and what I won’t. I get to choose the life I lead and burdens I carry. And I choose you, Jon. You, and no other. Let me be sullied. Let me be stripped of maidenhead, as long as it is by your hand. Take me, Jon. Take me before we never get the chance again. Take me before you leave me. You owe me that much.” Your eyes burned with determination as Jon sat in silence for a long moment. The air between you was thick with anticipation. You could see Jon’s resolve beginning to crumble at your words. He reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped your cheek.

“What if I do this and I can’t let you go?” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “What if I need this too?”

Your eyes softened, and you moved closer, your face only inches from his. “Then don’t let me go,” you whispered back. “Be with me, Jon. Here. Now. Forget the world outside, even if just for tonight.”

Jon’s breath hitched, his heart in his chest. He knew what he was about to do had consequences, but in this moment, he couldn’t find a reason to care. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. This kiss was filled with years of unspoken feelings and hidden desires.

The kiss deepened, your bodies pressing together as the heat between you grew. Jon’s hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, needing to feel you against him. You responded in kind, your hands sliding to the hem of his trousers, hooking into the band, then ran your nails up his abs. Your touch sent shivers down his spine as he groaned into your mouth at the pleasure and the pain.

You broke apart and your small hands found the bottom of your slip. He watched you pull it over your head and throw it to the ground. The firelight cast the shadow of your, now bare, silhouette against the stone walls. While the fire was warm, the cool winter breeze floated through the window to send bumps up your skin. Jon licked his lips as he drank in every inch of you. He lifted his hand, but stopped before his fingers could reach your exposed breasts. You looked down to see his hand trembling, his breathing shallow. He was just as nervous as you were. This was his first time as well. You grabbed his wrist, moving his hand until it rested on your chest. You sucked in a breath at the sensation of his warm palm against your nipple. Slowly, his hand ran across your sternum, up and over your collarbone, and down to your other breast. It moved down the curve of your waist and down your abdomen, mapping out every inch of your exposed skin. Your hand gripped his shoulder as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked, his voice rough with desire and restraint. You could feel his bulge pressed against your core as you straddled him. He needed to hear you say you were sure, needed to know this is what you truly wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed, your eyes locked on him. A pool was forming in between your thighs. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a groan, Jon captured your lips, flipping and lowering you both onto the bed. He moved slowly, reverently, as if you were something precious and fragile. You wrapped your legs around his wait, pulling him hard into you. You needed to feel him now. You had dreamt about this moment for too long, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t contain the need. He ground against you, earning a moan, in between kisses. He pushed his cock against your exposed center again, making you buck your hips. You felt Jon smile into your lips and you had to pull away for air.

Jon took the opportunity to rid himself of his trousers, leaving him fully exposed. You propped yourself on your elbows, eyes traveling down the v that was perfectly chiseled into him as it led straight to his hard length. He was large and the idea made you nervous. You were told it would hurt, but were worried he may not fit. He ran his hand through his black curls to give him better vision of you gaping at him. A devilish smile made its way to his beautiful face. He crawled on top of you, placing his hands on your shoulders to gently push you against the mattress.

“Are you nervous?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at his question. Your eyes went from his, to his length, and back up to meet his gaze.

“Yes. It’s going to hurt,” you said, trying to swallow to bring moisture back to your dry throat.

“I’ll go slow, my love. As slow as you need.” You nodded, taking a deep breath. You braced your hands on his shoulders and watched as he used one hand to align himself with your entrance, the other next to your head. You felt the pressure as his tip struggled to enter your tight core. You clenched your teeth at the pain and sensation. You shut your eyes and squeezed his shoulders. The further he stretched you, the harder you squeezed his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. You winced as his full length entered you. You felt a large hand caress your cheek and you opened your eyes. You met a worried gaze, as he searched your face. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m ready.” You nodded and he hesitated for a moment, then slowly began to pull out. He slid back in and your back arched at the pain and pleasure that filled your belly. His thrusts became even as you adjusted to his size. Jon moaned in pleasure when your nails ran down his back. His cock filled you whole. Your legs wrapped right around his waist, pushing him in as far as you could. You wanted to feel all of him, take all of him.

“Y/N,” he growled your name in your ear, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin. He kissed and sucked on the nape of your neck, causing a loud moan to escape your lips.

“Oh gods, Jon,” you whimpered, feeling a ball of sensation being to grow in your lower belly. The pleasure started to feel so overwhelming, you didn’t know if you could take it. Your hands pushed against his chest, not able to bear the sensation. Jon grabbed your wrists, softly pinning them to the bed, one of either side of your head. He picked up pace, you almost screamed at the pressure threatening to burst.

“Hearing you moan my name is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” His words made your toes curls and your back arch.

“Jon,” you moaned louder, wanting to say it over and over. He groaned, his grip on your wrists getting tighter.

“Say it again.” Your lip quivered with over stimulation. Your head was swimming in a mix of pleasure, not able to form any other thought than his name. He thrust into you harder than before, pushing the deepest he could. This won a scream of his name from your lips. Your eyes met his and they were full of passion and desire. His curls stuck to his forehead with sweat. “You’re so beautiful.” Those words sent you to your undoing. You felt yourself finally burst, waves of pleasure and shivers rushing up your body all the nerves in you going limp from stimulation. Only a few moments later, Jon pulled out, releasing onto your bare stomach.

Your eyes were closed, but you felt warm fabric brush over your skin. You opened them to see Jon cleaning his mess off of you. Once he was done, he left a trail off kisses from your bellybutton down to your bundle of nerves. You squeezed your thighs, not being able to handle any more. He smirked and collapsed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

In this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, sharing a love that defied the rules of your world. You clung to each other, as if trying to imprint this moment into your memories, knowing that it would be all you had when the morning came.

Jon’s fingers gently stroked your hair, his heart still racing. Peace washed over you as your head rested on his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. “For giving me this. For being with me.”

Jon kissed the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I’ll always be with you,” he said softly. “No matter where I am. No matter what happens. You are a part of me.”

“And you, me,” you replied. You smiled against his chest, your heart filling with love. You had stolen a moment from the world, a moment that was yours and yours alone. Though the future was uncertain, and the outside world may never understand, you had this night. And for now, that had to be enough. It was enough.

#jon snow #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #Jon Snow GoT #game of thrones fanfiction #jon snow imagine #kit harrington #kit Harrington imagine #kit harrington x reader #game of thrones imagine #jon snow smut #game of thrones smut

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

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The Aftermath || LN4 {1}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: A year after losing your husband to an F1 crash, his teammate comes by and regrets never coming to check in on you. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression, mentions of blood, alcohol WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

It doesn’t matter how long the night may seem, dawn will find a way to fight the darkness and break in a new day. Another day without him.

365. It had been 365 days since he left this world for an eternity among the stars. Even now, a year later, you struggled to say his name without spiraling into the abyss where you wished you could join him.

“Racing is my oxygen, I need it to survive.” That is what he had said whenever someone asked him if he was thinking about retiring.

“I hate you,” you murmured to the picture of your wedding day, the bright smiles something that hadn’t been seen inside these four walls for a year.

You could almost hear his mocking laugh and you sighed at the truth, you could never hate him. He was your other half, he completed you. You hated that he had left you and the emptiness that had remained in his absence.

“I miss you.”

A knock sounded at your door and you dragged yourself through the silent house to see what had been delivered. You didn’t want to have to interact with anyone, let alone on a day like this one. “Just leave it on the step.”

“Y/N?”

You stumbled at the voice and froze, wondering if it was too late to climb back into bed and pull the covers up over your head and hide from the world.

“Please, Y/N, open the door,” Lando called out.

They had been teammates. They had been friends. The three of you had spent so much time together the media joked Lando wasn’t third wheeling but a part of a throuple.

Your hand trembled as you reached for the stiff deadbolt, the harsh scrape evidence of how long it had been since it was last opened for a grocery delivery almost two weeks ago.

After the funeral, everyone else moved on with their lives while you were left with dozens of decaying bouquets and sympathy cards that could never replace your husband. For a while there were phone calls and invitations but leaving the house had become daunting and eventually those had stopped entirely. You couldn’t blame them.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered as you opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you pointedly ignored his question.

He shuffled on the doorstep as he shifted his balance about. “It’s the memorial unveiling today, I thought you might want someone to drive you.”

If you could feel anything, you might have felt angry. “I didn’t know there was an unveiling.”

“Shit, seriously?” He ran a hand through his curls that had grown longer than he used to keep them. “You should be there.”

He carefully stepped around you and into the house, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the stale air before he frowned. You couldn’t remember when you last opened the curtains, preferring the dark where you could sit in his shirt and pretend he was still with you even after his scent faded from the material.

Lando stepped into the kitchen next, opening the fridge and cupboards to find them almost empty before slamming them closed.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said lamely as he stormed across the room to grab your shoulders. “I’m fine. I was going to order groceries today.”

“This isn’t fine, Y/N!” He sighed and released his grip so he could pull you into his arms. “I should have come by sooner.”

You froze as you felt the first human contact in months and felt his heartbeat against you, the rhythmic thump enough to jolt you back into control and you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m not your problem, Lando.” You turned to the door that was still open, his comical Fiat Jolly parked in the drive. “You should go.”

His head dropped as he slowly walked past, pausing only a moment to say something before he thought better of it and shook his head, closing the door behind him.

The road noise in the retro pastel blue car was too loud to hear anything when Lando’s phone rang so he pulled over into the next parking lot off the busy streets and found Oscar’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey mate, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” his teammate asked in a hushed tone. “The ceremony starts in five minutes and you’re the one who actually drove with the guy.”

Lando stared out ahead at the shop space he had pulled into and saw it was a food mart. “I’m not going to make it.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?”

“I’ll talk to you later, tell them to start without me.” Lando hung up without a goodbye and rushed out of his car, an apology sent to his friend in heaven.

There was no knock at your door this time, there was just the quiet scratch of the pot plant moving across the concrete step before it was unlocked and swinging open.

You didn’t even have the energy to rise from the bed you had crawled back into, there was only one person who knew where the spare key was hidden. He pottered around in the kitchen and you heard the doors opening and closing before his bare feet padded softly down the hallway.

“Coming in,” Lando warned as the door creaked open and he stepped into your room. “I hope you’re wearing something.”

Before you could ask why he gave you the answer and ripped the blankets off the bed. Cold air rushed in and you shivered as you pulled the hem of your husband’s shirt further down your thighs. The orange and grey pattern on the shirt caught Lando’s attention and his eyes turned down before he turned away and opened the closet.

You weren’t sure if he was expecting to see one half empty but you hadn’t been able to box up a single item. You were clinging onto them, and the memory they represented, for dear life.

He grabbed a casual dress he had seen you wear before and tossed it over, the soft cotton covering your legs. “Get dressed.”

“Lando!” He had already disappeared back down the hall and you groaned as you rolled off the bed and onto your feet. The material hung loose around your body in a way it hadn't before and the dress was no longer flattering as you stood in front of the mirror.

It was the first real time you had looked in the mirror and you barely recognised yourself. Your skin no longer glowed, your hair was knotted and unkempt and your eyes held no life where they were sunken into your face.

Needing to try salvage something of your dignity, you tried to brush out the knots but the handle snapped and you stared at it in disbelief. Sudden rage hit you as you failed at such a simple task and you threw what remained of the brush at the mirror, shattering the image but somehow making your reflection more true to how you were feeling.

“Y/N?” Lando skidded to a stop, barely missing the shards of glass on the carpet. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you admitted aloud for the first time and your legs gave out as reality crashed into you. “I miss him so much.”

You didn’t feel the glass slash your legs or the sharp pain as they stabbed your knees. You didn’t feel the warm blood seeping into the carpet or Lando’s arms as he picked you up. You didn’t feel anything but the overwhelming sense of loss like a fist squeezing your heart from inside your chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Lando murmured as he sat you on the kitchen side and cupped your face. “I’m sorry I wasn't here.”

“I’m not your problem,” you reminded him as you shook his hands off your face. “You were his friend and I’m not an inheritance.”

“I’m your friend too. A shitty friend, but I’m going to fix that,” he said as he looked down at your bleeding knees, “starting with this.”

He went to the cupboard above the fridge to find nothing had changed and the first aid kit was still on the shelf you struggled to reach, but he easily did. You tried to get a bandaid from it as he placed it on the benchtop beside you but he moved your hands back and gave you a warning look.

“This might hurt,” he apologised as he broke the top off a saline bottle and started to rinse the blood away. “There’s some glass stuck in there - maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going back there, especially not today,” you said with a lick of venom and a shake of your head. “There’s whiskey in the back of the pantry, just give me some of that.”

He seemed dubious about the idea but knew how stubborn you could be and exhaled a resigned sigh before getting the half empty bottle. He looked at you through the clear glass, above the sloshing amber, and you could feel the judgement in that stare.

“I have trouble sleeping.”

He didn’t give you a response as he handed it over before getting a chair to sit on, placing your foot on his knee so he could try to get the glass out with a pair of tweezers. To be honest, you were numb to everything and didn’t even need the alcohol but you gulped greedily at the spiced whiskey.

“What’s that?” you asked as you noticed a pot on the stove, steam softly billowing up, and then you noticed the mouthwatering scent.

“Vegetable soup. You need to eat.”

“When did you get so mature?” The joke fell flat as he looked up and you saw the depth of his own grief that he let escape from where he had buried it.

“A lot has changed in a year.”

There was no appropriate response to be said so you took another swig and felt the warmth of the alcohol hitting your empty stomach while he continued to pull shards of glass out.

“All done,” he said as he gathered the rubbish and left you to inspect the bandaids plastered all over your knees and skins too.

“If you ever look for a change in career, nursing isn't the answer.”

His lips curled up with a small laugh as he checked the pot and gave the soup a stir. “You’re meant to say thank you.”

“Thank you, Nurse Norris.”

Lando returned to where you were sitting after lowering the heat on the stove and tapped his finger on the stack of mail beside you. He picked up an envelope with the F1 symbol beside the return address and flipped it over before seeing almost a dozen others just like it.

“Your invitation is probably in one of these.”

“Did you know there’s a clause in the contracts for ‘surviving spouses’?” You laughed bitterly and tipped the bottle back, no longer feeling the burn of the alcohol rushing down your throat. “They send a cheque every month, the very people who killed him and I want nothing to do with, and if it wasn’t already bad enough, they send it in his name.”

Lando looked at the envelopes and frowned. “Seriously?”

You took the top one and ripped through the seal to show him the cheque address to René Gauthier. On and on, you tore them all open and Lando swallowed deeply as the mess grew.

“Do they think €10,000 a month is going to make everything better? Nothing they do can bring back my husband.”

“Nothing can fix what happened,” he said as he wiped your cheeks that you hadn’t noticed were damp with tears. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier but they brought in new regulations this year, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sometimes I wish he hit those officials,” your voice broke at the whispered confession. “He would have had to live with that guilt, but at least he would be alive. Oh god, I’m a terrible person.”

René had been labelled a hero for the manoeuvre he had done to save the lives of the officials that were in the wrong place. He had put himself into a wall swerving away from them and while they had walked away unscathed for their mistake, your husband had died for his. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re not a terrible person, Y/N,” Lando reassured you as he pulled your hands away from where you had hidden your face in shame.

The alcohol had hit your system and you closed your eyes as the room swayed, your words falling unfiltered as your head spun. “Racing was his life, Lando, but he was mine. I don’t know how to live without him.”

The bottle disappeared from your fingers and you lifted your heavy eyelids to see Lando putting it on top of the cupboards out of your reach.

“You find a way to live because it's what he would want.” He scooped you up off the counter and your head fell into the crook of his neck without resistance. “You find a way to live because we’ve already lost too much. I’m not going to lose you too.”

Click here for part two.

#lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #tw: grief

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taexual · 11 months ago

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sleepwalking ● 15 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, SLOW BURN, ANGST (including some miscommunication due to alcohol & descriptions of anxiety)

words: 10.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 15 ► i had the whole damn world and i gave it all away, what did i think i would save?

Waking up on a good day was not a pleasant experience for Jungkook. But waking up that morning in Tilburg felt a bit like having his brain pulled out through his nose with a metal hook.

The bus was dim—was he on the bus? How did he get here in the first place?—and the slightest light coming from the skylight made his eyes sting. His head seemed to split in two, and his whole body felt as if he had deliberately allowed a lawnmower to run over him.

So this was a hangover, then.

He hadn’t had many of those in his life, which of course, did not indicate how often he drank. Maybe he had lost his ability to drink without getting really drunk. Or maybe he drank so much that even this ability wasn’t enough.

“You awake?” a voice asked, and the kaleidoscope of sharp echoes in Jungkook’s head forced him to retreat further into his bunk.

“Why,” he uttered, each word like fire in his parched mouth, “would you yell?”

A chuckle in response helped him identify the speaker as Hoseok.

“You’re the only one still sleeping. Everyone else is getting pancakes for breakfast,” he said. “Do you want to know what ‘pancake batter’ is in Dutch? Word on the street is, pronouncing it three times in front of the mirror will kill you.”

“I will kill you,” Jungkook retorted, “unless you can bring me some water. Please?”

Amused, Hoseok walked to the back of the bus where the mini-fridge was. He grabbed a bottle and brought it to the younger member before settling on the edge of his bunk.

“Here,” he said. “Why’d you drink so much last night in any case?”

It took incredible effort for Jungkook to sit up, but he managed—while groaning and moaning, and glaring at Hoseok each time the older boy chuckled at his exaggerated struggle.

Jungkook took the water bottle and emptied half of it in one gulp, but it didn’t make much of a difference. The bitter aftertaste lingered in his mouth, and every word he spoke still felt like acid.

“I can’t remember,” he said, even though something inside of him told him that this wasn’t true. Apart from the pain, he also felt this heavy unease—as if he had an apocalyptic event scheduled for this afternoon, and he needed to prepare for it, hence the excessive drinking. “I’m sure I had a reason.”

Hoseok assumed as much and he asked, “did something happen?”

“I—” Jungkook interrupted himself when he threw his head back to finish the rest of the water. This didn’t help either, and now his stomach felt uncomfortably heavy. He said again, “I don’t know. Can’t remember.”

“I saw you leave the venue with—”

“I remember that,” he said quickly as if he was afraid to hear the conclusions Hoseok had drawn after seeing him leave with you.

“Where’d you two go?” Hoseok asked.

“To this park,” Jungkook said, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers as he tried to bring last night back to him. He remembered kissing you. Unless he’d dreamt that, of course. Both options were likely. Neither was acceptable to say out loud. Weakly, he continued, “uh… I don’t really—we talked there.”

Since Hoseok did not know what had really happened between you and Jungkook at that park, he followed up with the logical question, “did you have a fight?”

“No, we…” Jungkook sighed. Another memory returned, this one more vivid than the kiss he thought he remembered—which was a shame. He would have preferred the kiss. He opened his eyes and looked at Hoseok questioningly, “Namjoon called her. Yoongi’s laptop?”

“Ah, yeah.” The older boy laughed. “They went to McDonald’s and left it there. Then they got so wasted, they forgot about it.”

Jungkook snorted weakly. “Idiots.”

It gave him great pleasure to say the word, because for once, it wasn’t him who was being described here.

“Just like you, huh?” Hoseok teased nonetheless. “Seems like everyone had a reason to drink last night.”

Jungkook ignored the gentle jab and focused on remembering you.

“Did you see her this morning?” he asked.

Hoseok nodded.

“Did she seem angry?” Jungkook continued, hoping for a clue about the rest of the night. The last thing he seemed to remember was the truck stop. He was alone in his memory, but he assumed that was because you hadn’t returned from finding the missing laptop yet.

Jungkook didn’t think you had gone drinking with him last night; he seemed to remember—or just assumed—that you had left before he got drunk. And he realised that he knew why he got drunk – he was worried about the bet and how he would tell you.

He thought he remembered talking to someone about this last night, but it couldn’t have been you, because he recalled being called “son.” It must have been someone else at the bar, then. Maybe the bartender.

But what happened afterwards? Did his chest hurt so much because he still hadn’t told you?

“No. She didn’t seem angry,” Hoseok said. “But she’s never angry with me because I never give her a reason to be.”

The teasing smile on the older member’s face made Jungkook grimace. “Good for you.”

Hoseok chuckled because he didn’t get to see Jungkook like this often. Usually, the entire band was wiped out with a cursed hangover, and Jungkook was the one obnoxious ray of sunshine in the room. Hoseok and the others always thought this was unfair. Clearly, this morning was a welcome change.

“She seemed okay,” Hoseok said. Then, more seriously, he asked, “you think you did something? Besides getting drunk, I mean.”

The younger boy exhaled and watched the bedding on his bunk for a minute. It was black and seemed even darker in the shadow inside the bus. It did nothing whatsoever to jog his memory.

He was worried that he had done something very terrible. Not worse than having made the bet in the first place, but terrible nonetheless.

What if he’d missed his chance to tell you and someone else had told you first? Probably not Sid, because he may have been an absolute dickhead, but he needed to win the bet fairly to be satisfied. But what if—

Taehyung, he thought suddenly.

Taehyung knew. What if he’d found you while Jungkook was in the bar?

You tell her or I will, Taehyung had said to him back in Amsterdam.

What if he had told you everything because he couldn’t bear to keep it to himself any longer?

Jungkook had seen how distressed the bassist was. He had noticed how he kept avoiding his eyes when they were in the same room.

Groaning, Jungkook pressed his palms to his forehead and strained to remember something. Did he talk to you after you returned with the laptop? What did he say? More importantly, what did you say that left him half-paralysed with this unidentified worry?

“I… don’t really…” Jungkook tried to cling to a memory and see what happened next, but his thoughts remained muddled. Did he kiss you in the park before or after you told him about your parents’ tumultuous relationship?

“Did you drink together?” Hoseok enquired, slipping into investigator mode as he crossed his legs on Jungkook’s bunk. He thought he was being helpful, but Jungkook felt pressured into giving answers that wouldn’t reveal too much—you’d rubbed off on him, he supposed. Or maybe he just didn’t want to upset you any more than he may have already had. “Or did you get drunk after she left to find the laptop?”

“After. I think,” Jungkook said. “I was driving before.”

“Driving?” Hoseok repeated, visibly surprised.

Jungkook waved his hand dismissively. “Long story.”

Hoseok noticed that Jungkook was struggling to speak in longer sentences, as evidenced by his colourless face as he shrank away from the skylight. He decided to quit questioning, assuming it was a hangover that plagued the younger boy.

Instead, he shared his last memory, hoping it would be helpful: “I think I heard you come back. At about nine.”

It was not helpful.

Jungkook frowned and asked, “you were already awake?”

“Well, Namjoon and Yoongi caused a scene on the bus earlier,” Hoseok explained, shrugging one of his shoulders. “They woke everyone up and I couldn’t really fall asleep after that.”

“Oh.”

“But I can’t help you with anything else. Sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “Maybe once your hangover wears off, you’ll remember.”

Jungkook lowered his head because it started to burn when he attempted to shake it in response.

Stubbornly, he mumbled, “I’m never hungover.”

Hoseok was about to laugh but he managed to contain it to a soft snicker. “Well, you’re hungover now, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What time is it?” Jungkook asked.

Hoseok had to check his phone first.

“Eleven,” he said.

“Eleven?” Jungkook repeated, his mind fighting against him as he tried to piece the timeline together. “I only slept for… if you saw me at nine, then I only slept for—wait, and you said you hadn’t slept at all?”

Hoseok shook his head, but looking at his phone had distracted him. Truthfully, he hadn’t told Jungkook everything he knew.

He had seen Minjun half-carrying a drunk Jungkook onto the bus at around eight-forty this morning. Hoseok remembered the time because his phone had died about a minute later, and he didn’t get to finish the Falling in Reverse album that he had been listening to on a loop that night.

Minjun’s presence might have sparked a memory, but Hoseok decided not to mention it. He preferred it when Jungkook’s friends weren’t involved in the situations that Jungkook seemed to have forgotten about, and he didn’t want the younger boy to go looking for said friends right away.

“Get something to eat,” Hoseok said, getting up from the bunk. “Pancakes. That’ll help you.”

Eating didn’t sound terrible, but it wasn’t that easy. For one thing, standing up seemed almost like a Herculean task right now—Jungkook was only slightly exaggerating here: he could extend a hand. But a leg? Not so much. And walking was probably completely out of the question.

“Yeah, fine,” he said as he lowered himself face-down onto the mattress, preparing to get out of the bunk—either by crawling or rolling out. “But I need to wash up a bit first. Somehow.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be good,” Hoseok agreed. “You reek of a bar.”

Jungkook glared—more at his pillow than at Hoseok—and mumbled, “thanks for the help.”

“Anytime!” Hoseok said with his usual good-natured laugh. He watched Jungkook try to stand and decided that the younger boy had brought this on himself, so it would do him good to find a way out himself, too. Approaching the door of the bus, Hoseok added, “I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t hurt yourself!”

Straining and grunting, Jungkook managed to wash up, despite his almost unbearable headache and the cramped bathroom of the bus—it was, really, just a toilet and the smallest sink imaginable. He slammed his knees into the wall twice and kicked himself in the shins one and a half times.

He could still taste the whiskey in his mouth, and he thought he could still smell it on himself as well—he’d need a proper shower, maybe several, to get rid of that—but he felt a little better. The improvement was barely noticeable, but it was there, and he got off the bus with a lighter step.

He wondered if the restaurant outside only served pancakes, as Hoseok had advertised, or if they were also prepared to make some other dishes, such as the greasiest, oiliest chicken possible.

When he got off the bus, hoping to find out, he first spotted Hoseok who was lifting his chin and pointing forward, gesturing for him to go on.

Jungkook turned his head and immediately saw you standing right at the entrance of the restaurant. He forgot all about Hoseok and the food.

Right away, he felt an odd sensation in his stomach; something that transcended worry and turned into outright terror. He watched you for a minute, almost petrified. His feet refused to budge as if his body remembered last night better than his mind.

You noticed him in the middle of your conversation with Luna. You saw him freeze first, then eventually start to walk towards you. Right after your eyes met, you looked back at Luna briefly and turned to enter the restaurant without a second glance in his direction.

This was, of course, hardly the reaction Jungkook had been hoping for because one of your last interactions that he could remember with questionable certainty was a kiss.

The horror inside him grew. Something must have really happened last night—something so horrible that his mind chose to drown in alcohol rather than remember it.

Maybe he had found you after Taehyung had talked to you last night, and he’d attempted to make amends, but he was too drunk to tell you everything he needed to tell you…

He had to find out. He had to fix it.

Jungkook walked past Luna, gave her a quick nod hello—and cringed in pain when he moved his head, therefore missing the glare she gave him—and went in after you.

He called out your name, then touched your shoulder. You turned around very slowly, almost reluctantly. He suspected that if he hadn’t touched you, you would have ignored him altogether.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You gave him one look – maybe even less than that – and turned away, taking a small step to the side to escape his touch.

Before you looked away, it seemed to him that you hadn’t slept at all. He knew you well enough to recognise that. He also knew you well enough to recognise the obvious disapproval on your face—as if you were talking to Sid and not him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What happened last night?

“I don’t have time,” you finally said, and his panic deepened.

“Please?” he asked, trailing behind you as you walked towards a table by the window in the farthest corner from the entrance. You’d chosen it as your workspace, but Luna had persuaded you to have breakfast with her and the boys first.

Right away, Jungkook spotted Taehyung, Luna and Yoongi on the other side of the restaurant—all three of them were watching Jungkook follow you.

“I appreciate the manners,” you said as you walked, “but I still don’t have time.”

Close to despair, he whispered—as if your friends could overhear your conversation from across the room, “d-did something happen last night?”

This finally made you turn around and look at him.

Suddenly, he wished you hadn’t.

There was a look in your eyes that reminded him of something. He couldn’t quite place that look, but he felt his chest tighten so much that his heart could barely fit inside, the beating violent and terrified.

It wasn’t anger that he saw when he looked at you. It wasn’t contempt, either. Nor disgust, nor revulsion—it wasn’t anything he had expected to see.

It was a weary disappointment—as if you had been worried about something for a long time, but still hoped it wouldn’t happen, and it did. It happened. And Jungkook realised in horror that he was probably what you were worried about.

“No,” you said, deciding that it wouldn’t do either of you any good to argue here. It scared him, this split-second decision that you made. He wanted you to shout at him, he wanted to see the fire in your eyes. He was afraid of the emptiness he found in them instead. You finished, “nothing significant happened at all. Not last night, or any night before.”

Your words disturbed him. It sounded—and his head began to pound much harder than his heart—like you were talking about all these weeks in Europe. All that the two of you had done together.

He swallowed the concern on his tongue. He still felt half-drunk and three-quarters hungover, so he didn’t know if the assumptions he was making were a result of a hangover paranoia or if he’d interpreted everything you’d said correctly. Honestly, he didn’t even want to know. But he had to ask.

“W-what is that supposed to mean?”

He realised he was clinging onto a tiny, pitiful hope that he’d seen the look in your eyes in a distant nightmare and not right in front of him at the truck stop last night. It seemed more and more unlikely the longer that he waited for you to speak, but while he breathed, he hoped.

“It’s supposed to mean that you need to get something to eat and join the rest of your band,” you said, picking up your coffee cup from the table next to you. Jungkook noticed that there was nothing else on it, just a stack of papers, your laptop, and your phone. “I have work to do.”

Suddenly, he wanted to pause this uncomfortable exchange where the two of you stayed quiet about more things than you expressed. He wanted to tell you that it was you who should have got something to eat. He wanted to remind you not to overwork yourself.

But the way you looked at him was an alarming indication that it wasn’t his place to say these things to you anymore.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—

“Did you…” Jungkook tried to choose his words carefully. “Did you talk to someone last night? After we got back from the park, I mean?”

You looked startled somehow as you swallowed your coffee and set the empty cup down. Then you gave him a smile with not one bit of humour or kindness behind it, and he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle with horror.

You did talk to someone. And he made the mistake of asking who it was.

“I didn’t talk to anyone important,” you finally said.

That was enough to confirm all of his foreboding senses.

“You know,” he concluded breathlessly.

Looking away instead of acknowledging his vague—but obviously correct—statement, you picked up your belongings from the table.

“I know enough to see that you need to eat and then sleep this off,” you said. “You smell like a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

You tried to walk past him, but Jungkook moved to block your way.

“Who told you?” he pressed.

You raised your eyebrows at the question.

“Are you—okay.” You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. You tried to phrase your next words as tactfully as possible, aware that you would have a large audience if you raised your voice here. “It’s a little mind-blowing to me that you think the issue here is who told me. And it’s a lot mind-blowing that you dare to ask me that.”

Uncomfortable under your affronted gaze, Jungkook blinked and looked away. His heavy head was slowly dragging him to the floor, and he leaned against the table for more support.

“I—I’m really sorry,” he said, not daring to look at you again because the emptiness in your eyes was so discomfiting that it felt almost unnatural. He realised, painfully, that he’d taken all of your timid glances for granted. He missed them now—so much.

But as soon as the apology was out of his mouth, he immediately remembered that he had said the exact same words to you. Unfortunately, he had said them to you many times before.

This could have been déjà vu.

It could have been a memory from weeks ago.

But it also could have been a memory from last night.

Now you were hesitating. You didn’t know what he was apologising for specifically, and you suspected that he didn’t know, either. Then you finally nodded your head.

Jungkook worried that you’d come to a decision—a final one, to make up for all the previous times you’d claimed this was final but hadn’t meant it.

Now you looked like you meant it.

You didn’t offer him any relief from his misery and gave him no hints of what had happened after you returned from the park.

Instead, you said, “eat something,” and walked around him.

He didn’t stop you this time. He knew he couldn’t.

But he also knew that he would find you as soon as he figured out how you discovered the truth and whether he talked to you after that.

You joined Yoongi, Taehyung, and Luna at a table in the annexe of the pancake restaurant, right next to a wall-sized window with a view of the vast, completely empty fields of green behind the building.

“Everything okay?” Luna asked as you sat down in the remaining empty chair by the table, next to Yoongi.

You were uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on you. You knew they’d witnessed the exchange you’d just shared with Jungkook, but you didn’t know what they thought they saw.

“Absolutely,” you replied in a manner so manufactured that they could all tell it was insincere.

While you pretended to be interested in the food that your friends had ordered for you, Yoongi glanced at everyone by the table one after the other.

“Is, uh, something wrong?” he asked, fixing his gaze on you. “With Jungkook?”

“No,” you said. Again, with a noticeable bitterness. “Some tension, that’s all.”

Yoongi was still processing your revelation about Reconnaissance. Yesterday, he had told you that you didn’t have to tell anyone else about it, but he wasn’t sure if he’d really meant it. He assumed you could guess as much. And now he was starting to think that you’d told Jungkook about it, after all.

Carefully, he asked, “did Jungkook get mad at you for not telling him about… things?”

Yoongi wasn’t very good at being discreet. You saw Taehyung frown as he looked up at you.

Taehyung was understandably confused. He thought it was Jungkook who hadn’t told you “things.” Why would he be the one getting mad?

“No,” you said to Yoongi. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be mad here. But it’s fine. I just—I’m not even—I just need a minute.”

Huh, Taehyung thought to himself as he continued to eat in silence. You were obviously seething. Something must have happened.

He had suspected that Jungkook was going to tell you last night when the two of you left together (and, naturally, Taehyung went to find Luna right after witnessing your exit, so he could finally calm himself down). But if Jungkook told you—what the hell was Yoongi on about?

“Well, wait a second,” Yoongi pushed, also very confused. “What do you mean? Why are you mad?”

To him, it seemed like you were prepared to handle the news about Reconnaissance on your own. He thought it was possible that Jungkook had reacted very negatively when you told him and he’d said something upsetting. He knew the vocalist would be unhappy if he found out that you were getting offers to leave Rated Riot.

That would explain—sort of—your emotions. And if that was the case, Yoongi was prepared to interfere.

“Did he say something to you?” he asked. “If he’s upset about this… possibility, then I can talk—”

“Yoongi,” Luna cut in with a rushed whisper. “I don’t think this is about Reconnaissance.”

She was quick to figure out that you had told Yoongi about Nick’s offer—it wasn’t difficult, considering Yoongi was about as vague as a treasure map with a giant X on it. She wanted him to drop the topic before you were forced to admit that this was actually about Jungkook’s bet.

Luna could tell from your body language when you saw Jungkook—and from the way you were about to bend the fork in your hand right now—that you finally knew about the bet, too.

Taehyung, on the other hand, remained simply baffled.

He knew about the bet, sure. But he looked up from his plate again, and correctly guessed from the frowns on everyone’s faces that he was the only one who did not know about this Reconnaissance business that Luna had just mentioned.

“Reconnaissance?” he asked. “What about Reconnaissance?”

He appeared to enjoy saying the band’s name and seemed oblivious to your cringing every time he said it.

You looked up at Luna first—her eyes were wide as she realised that she shouldn’t have mentioned the band outright. To make matters worse, it suddenly occurred to her that you didn’t know that she and Taehyung knew about the bet, so you must have been confused as to why she would divert the topic so suddenly and plunge you straight into a different awkward conversation.

But before she could apologise, you turned to Yoongi, who lowered his head as soon as he met your eyes. He realised that he couldn’t ask Luna what she’d meant—what else could you and Jungkook argue about?—because there was a more important discussion waiting to happen.

You cleared your throat.

“Nothing important,” you finally said. “Their manager contacted me the other day about an open position in their staff, but I told him I wasn’t interested. I mentioned this to, uh—to Luna. And to Yoongi, too, a few days ago.”

You chose not to reveal that Maggie and Namjoon also knew about this, so Taehyung wouldn’t feel as left out as you assumed you had just made him feel.

There were several things that Taehyung struggled to process here. He tried to look at his girlfriend for help first, but Luna purposefully made herself busy by drinking her orange juice. Then he glanced over at his bandmate, but Yoongi turned his entire body away from him to look out the window.

Clearly, neither one of them wanted to explain why they weren’t questioning you about this, so it took Taehyung a minute to find his words.

“But this is…” he started, then paused. “It’s big!”

“Yeah, I—well, you know,” you said while knowing that he didn’t know. You felt guilty and uncomfortable having to explain this right after he found out that you’d kept it from him. “I-I’m happy here. I like what I do. I would—I’d have far less responsibility, but a lot more pressure if I went to work with them.”

Taehyung considered this.

“It would be a great opportunity, t-that’s true,” you added, sounding increasingly uncertain as you spoke. “They’re million-dollar sellers. But I don’t—I want to reach that level with you guys. Not join someone who’s already at the top. Where’s the fun in that?”

You smiled as you finished, hoping to soften the impact of the news. Taehyung finally allowed his muscles to relax a little as he leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his iced tea.

“I see,” he said, placing the glass back on the table. “Okay. So, you’re staying. Right?”

You were on the verge of responding—because you thought you’d just be repeating yourself again—but then you stopped.

You said you were happy here.

You said you weren’t interested in leaving.

But you didn’t, technically, say that you were staying.

You’d said it to Maggie and Luna, and then to Yoongi and Namjoon. But that was before you allowed yourself to confront your feelings for Jungkook while he just tried to win a bet against Sid.

And now you were hesitating.

When you eventually nodded, the assurance from your lips sounded far less convincing. “Mhmm. Yes.”

Silence settled at the table until Luna, still feeling guilty about the slip-up (she would apologise to you as soon as the boys were out of earshot), changed the topic to something completely unrelated: namely the sights she thought would be interesting to see once you were in London.

You hoped to avoid discussing Reconnaissance again, but Nick’s offer had suddenly gained more weight in your mind.

As you returned to your designated workspace after breakfast, you remembered the pros and cons list that Maggie had suggested back in Oslo.

The pros of leaving Rated Riot and joining Reconnaissance had expanded dangerously following your conversation with Jungkook last night.

You worried. You didn’t think you would actually leave, at least not just because of this ridiculous bet. But the more you thought about it—and the more you remembered that Jungkook’s friends were right around here somewhere—the more you couldn’t help it.

Would it really be so terrible to continue your career with a band that had a massive following and did not have your ex-boyfriend as a member, and his good-for-nothing friends as a persistent shadow?

Contrary to what Hoseok had promised and what he had expected himself, eating didn’t make Jungkook feel better. If anything, it only made him feel more irritated.

As he mindlessly chewed the pancakes—which were probably delicious, really, but they tasted like napkins in his hungover mouth—he went over the conversation he’d just had with you.

Again, he arrived at the same conclusion: you knew about the bet.

But everything else in his mind was speculation.

He might have talked to you after you found out, and he might not have handled it very well.

He might not have talked to you after you found out, which was just as bad.

He realised then, with a sinking feeling in his cotton-filled stomach, that he might have also been the one who told you about it.

That would have almost been good, he’d meant to tell you—but when he was sober. And, ideally, without forgetting about it the next day.

He hoped desperately that this wasn’t what had happened. But he needed to know for certain.

He had concluded earlier that only one other person could have talked to you about this, so he pushed his plate away and looked around.

He didn’t spot Taehyung here anymore. But Luna was standing by the cash register.

He stood up and approached her right away.

She didn’t look particularly pleased to talk to him, and Jungkook quickly surmised that she knew about the bet, too. He fully expected this since Taehyung considered her mind an extension of his own. Now, Jungkook thought, he had even more reasons to talk to him.

Luna informed him that Taehyung had felt tired and returned to the bus for a short nap. She said she was waiting to grab some dessert for him.

Jungkook couldn’t thank her for the information quickly enough.

Acting solely on instinct, he ran out of the restaurant, flung open the bus door, and marched inside. He was glad to see that the bus was empty except for Taehyung lying in his bunk.

“Did you tell her?!” Jungkook fired immediately. He wasn’t sure if he’d meant to sound so accusing—he was simply frantic to learn what was hiding in the dark spots of his memory.

Flinching at the sudden shouting that he managed to hear over his music, Taehyung opened his eyes and sat up. He paused the song on his phone and raised his eyes.

He didn’t have to ask what Jungkook meant.

“I didn’t tell her anything,” he said as he pulled his earpods out of his ears and slid them back into their case.

“I saw you talking to her after the show last night. Did you find her and tell her later?” Jungkook demanded through agitated, heavy breaths. “You were with her and Luna at the restaurant just now.”

“I didn’t see her after you left. And all I said to her after the show was that she should talk to you,” Taehyung explained, displaying more patience than most people would under the circumstances. “And I didn’t really talk to her much at the restaurant.”

Slowly—because he was fuming, and the entire bus was red—Jungkook accepted that this was most likely the truth. Your response to him changed after last night, not after the concert. He assumed it was because you’d talked to someone while he wasn’t there, but maybe Taehyung wasn’t that someone.

Again, he remembered Sid. He could still ask him, he supposed, even if he doubted that Sid told you.

But there was a very big problem with this plan. If Sid found out that you knew about the bet, he would immediately amplify all of Jungkook’s problems by claiming that someone broke the rules of the bet—even if Sid was the one who told you.

He’d organise a manhunt, Jungkook didn’t doubt it. Or maybe he’d just blame Jungkook straight away—never mind that the bet ceased to exist to Jungkook the moment he barged into Sid’s room in Amsterdam, and demanded they ended it.

No. It was better to keep Sid out of this.

Jungkook swallowed and shuddered faintly when he felt the bitter aftertaste of everything that he’d drunk last night.

“Did you tell anyone?” he asked Taehyung.

Looking down, Taehyung brought his tongue over his lips. “Well...”

“Anyone other than Luna, I mean.”

“No. You asked me not to. I only told her after I assumed—”

“Okay, well,” Jungkook cut in, guilty suddenly, about forcing his friend into this. “C-could Luna have told her?”

“She could have,” Taehyung admitted. “But she was with me the whole night. And besides, she agreed that it should be you who tells her. That’s what I thought you were going to do last night.”

Jungkook shut his eyes and exhaled so deeply that Taehyung could feel it on his face from two metres away. “I don’t… I was—it would have—”

Interrupting his miserable struggle to construct a full sentence, the older boy reiterated, “we didn’t tell her. Honestly, I assumed that you did.”

Taehyung had had doubts before, but seeing Jungkook’s uncontrollable frustration right now convinced him that you must know about the bet.

Still, Jungkook’s confusion confused him.

It had to be Jungkook who told you. Who else could have?

“Well, I was—” Jungkook swallowed before charging, “actually, wh—what—what right did you have to tell her to talk to me? After I specifically asked you not to tell anyone! She obviously understood that something’s up.”

Taehyung looked offended at the outburst.

But Jungkook couldn’t control himself.

The longer he stayed away from you on the bus, the more he hurt. The more he understood that none of this mattered—not who told you, not what he said to you afterwards.

What mattered was this: he had made the bet. And you knew about it.

And now he wasn’t sure what would happen next and the guilt and the fear and the hurt could not fit in his chest anymore. He desperately needed a real, tangible something to blame his pain on. He needed someone else to be at fault.

“Something is up. And she’s our manager,” Taehyung said. “And you clearly need… managing.”

Childishly, Jungkook retorted, “you don’t know what I need.”

“You told me, because this was bothering you,” the older member said. “I was trying to help you do the right thing.”

Jungkook frowned so deeply that a permanent wrinkle was slowly beginning to form on his forehead. Then, he finally relaxed his face and stopped moving altogether—to breathe instead. And to think.

Perhaps, he thought as he rushed to inhale and exhale as if he was being pursued by the invisible horrors that he had battled last night and this morning—perhaps the look in your eyes that he’d seen today hadn’t come from a nightmare, after all.

It couldn’t have been Sid who told you. And it wasn’t Taehyung. It wasn’t Luna.

You looked at him like it was him.

“It—it must have—it was—” He inhaled and held his breath for one, two, three seconds. “You’re right. I-I must have told her. It was—I did—I-I told her.”

Taehyung watched as acceptance darkened Jungkook’s already hopeless eyes.

“I was really—I still feel kind of drunk, but I was even more wasted last night,” he continued, staring at the floor. He was breathing so rapidly now that he could have powered every streetlight in this whole city if they ran on oxygen and not electricity. “Maybe I was the one who told her. No one else could have, and it—it should have been me anyway, but I—it was—”

“Okay,” Taehyung said, quickly realising the direness of the situation. He put an arm around the younger boy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Jungkook hadn’t realised he was standing.

He didn’t feel Taehyung lower him onto his bunk, he didn’t feel the soft mattress underneath, he didn’t feel his friend’s hands around him.

All he felt was an oddly familiar tremor taking over his body—as if he’d already been here, shaking uncontrollably in another life.

Taehyung was aware of the predicament that Jungkook was in. Really, he was. But, honestly, he was proud of him for telling you the truth. He probably shouldn’t have felt this way, considering that telling you about the bet was common sense, but he couldn’t help it.

He was glad that Jungkook had chosen honesty—even though Taehyung hadn’t really given him a different choice, and the truth had made the younger boy nearly transparent as his shoulders hunched under his friend’s touch.

Taehyung wanted to believe that this honesty, despite how much discomfort and pure pain it brought Jungkook, signified growth. And with growth came the decision to choose better friends.

However, telling you about the bet and then forgetting about it? That was bad. Taehyung didn’t want to imagine how bad.

He sighed, releasing one breath in the time that Jungkook released ten.

“Maybe you should talk to her. When you’re a little more put together,” Taehyung suggested, hoping that a clear plan of action would calm Jungkook down.

“She won’t talk to me,” he said, and his breaths grew more ragged.

“Ah.” Taehyung raised his head knowingly. He needed a moment to compose himself before he admitted that he knew this would happen—and that Jungkook deserved this silent treatment just a little bit. “Yes. Well… That—that was to be expected, I would think.”

Despite his words, there was a comforting warmth in Taehyung’s eyes that Jungkook missed because he was too preoccupied with fighting his inner demons. He remembered something else—a sharp tension in his lungs, much like the one he was experiencing right now, as he struggled to contain everything that he was inhaling: revulsion and regret, despair and dread.

He had told you. He couldn’t remember it exactly, but he knew he had.

Jungkook managed to raise his eyes.

“W-what—what do I do?” he asked in between breaths.

Taehyung sucked his lips in. “I have no idea.”

Jungkook groaned as he ran his shaking fingers through his hair and pulled away from the other boy.

“For fuck’s s-sake,” he hissed, then took another unsteady breath. “You could—you could try being more helpful, you know.”

“You could try giving me less attitude, you know,” Taehyung returned. “Considering your position.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose irritably but refrained from arguing. His breathing began to slow as he shifted his focus from regretting the past to fixing the future.

“Fine,” he said. “Sorry. Please help me figure this out.”

There wasn’t much that Taehyung could have helped him with, and they both knew it. What Jungkook really needed was just encouragement that this wasn’t over yet. That he could still do something and hope for a positive outcome.

Taehyung contemplated this for a minute. A part of him honestly thought that this might be over. But as much as he valued honesty, he knew that sometimes it wasn’t the best option.

This was one of those times.

Not to mention, there were two sides to this coin.

The first was that you and Jungkook had known each other for years before you began to work together. Taehyung virtually knew nothing about your relationship prior to Rated Riot. He knew nothing of your history together. Maybe there was potential for resolution, after all.

However, the other side of the coin was this: you had an incredible opportunity to work with one of the biggest rock bands in the world. And even though the vocalist of this band was prone to alcohol, he was not prone to toxic friendships—at least as far as Taehyung knew. Not to mention, you hadn’t dated anyone in Reconnaissance, which had to be a massive plus after all that had just happened here. And so, although you said you would stay with Rated Riot, no one would have blamed you if you left.

Taehyung sighed.

This was a very, very unpleasant situation, to say the least.

“Alright. There’s something you should know,” the older boy finally said. “I don’t know if it’s going to be helpful for you, but, um… sh-she got an offer to work with Reconnaissance.”

Jungkook heard the way all the sounds inside the bus and inside his head and even inside his chest suddenly ceased, leaving only a faint buzzing.

He wasn’t sure what was buzzing. Maybe he hadn’t realised he was screaming.

“Wh—what?” he asked after a loaded minute. “She—what? When?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung said. “I just found out today.”

“So, she’s—what? She’s leaving?”

“I don’t know.”

Jungkook got up from his bunk and spun around, restless all of a sudden, as he ran his fingers through his hair again, messing it up even more. “Fuck.”

Taehyung gave him a moment to process this.

“What do I do?” Jungkook repeated, his breathing uneven again. Taehyung tensed when he heard the panic return to his friend’s voice. He stood up, but couldn’t reach Jungkook as he paced away from him on the bus. “What the f—what do I say? S-she won’t talk to me. Fuck.”

“Give her some time, then,” Taehyung said—quickly. Because he could tell that Jungkook was approaching a concerning new level of distress. “She just found out about the bet. This must have been quite a shock to her. It was shocking for me, and I have nothing to do with this. So, imagine how she must feel.”

“Okay. But it’s—what if she—”

“She’s not impulsive,” Taehyung cut in, guessing the younger boy’s concern. “She won’t just get up and leave. But if you keep pushing right now while the—” He clicked his tongue, looking for a more sensitive word. “—while the shock is still fresh, then you might end up pushing her towards the wrong decision.”

That sounded reasonable. Painful and terrifying, too, but reasonable, nonetheless.

Jungkook slid his hands down his face and spent a minute inhaling and exhaling in two-second increments. Then he nodded and looked up at the other boy.

“Yeah. Okay,” he decided. His head still felt like he had stolen it from a bronze sculpture—heavy, yet completely empty. But he thought he was gradually getting used to the pain. “You’re right. Okay. So, I should wait, right? Just… wait?”

“That’s what I’d do,” Taehyung said. “Wait.”

And so, waiting was what Jungkook did. For exactly six hours.

By then, everyone had already returned to the bus for the trip to Cologne, and the French bus driver had finished half a pack of cigarettes. You were unaware that it was just you and Jungkook left outside—you were still on the phone with the other roadies—and Jungkook used that to his advantage.

Anticipating your usual excuse of being too busy, he prepared in advance and spoke to the bus driver to find out the scheduled departure time. He learned that he should have enough time to have a proper conversation with you or, at the very least, address some of the drunken confessions that he must have made last night.

He had promised himself to hold off speaking to you in hopes that his mind would clear and he could remember a bit more—anything other than this suffocating misery that still kept him in a relentless chokehold today. But that promise was in vain.

He couldn’t wait.

“I need to talk to you,” Jungkook said as soon as he saw you come out from behind the bus.

Just as he had expected, you shook your head. “Now’s not the right—”

“We still have twenty-five minutes before we leave,” he said.

“It wouldn’t hurt to be ahead of schedule,” you argued, but he refused to move, so you couldn’t reach the bus door. “The equipment team had already left. We have to—”

“Please. Give me five minutes,” he said. “Please.”

As you were beginning to look away from him, your eyes involuntarily lingered on his face for a moment longer, and you felt your heart make the decision for you. You’d give him five minutes.

Really, the ache in your chest was just an excuse, as you realised in a fleeting moment of sober clarity. Your mind didn’t want to walk away from him, either.

He looked hurt—he had no right to look that way, not after what he’d done—but the look in his eyes still cut into your already wounded heart a little more.

You couldn’t remember if he had looked like this last night. All that you could see after he told you about the bet were the dangerous ripples of the ground beneath you and the unyielding darkness surrounding you.

You’d listen to him, you decided. That was all that you could still offer him.

“Fine,” you conceded, realising that you had a weakness, and it was standing right in front of you.

Jungkook inhaled—he’d managed to get his breathing under control in the past few hours—and straightened.

He’d seen this before, he thought. This moment that hadn’t even happened yet already echoed in his mind like a forgotten passage from a book that his grandmother had used to read to him—about heartache and the eventual happily ever after. He was too young for those books, really, he just wanted to be in grandma’s room longer. But he remembered the glistening tears in her eyes as she turned the last few pages, and he, too, found himself rooting for the people in the book.

Surely, then, if this was the painful part of the story—the part where the two characters couldn’t look at each other at the same time—then you had to be approaching the conclusion? The happy ending that he found himself dreaming about for the first time in Paris?

All that was left for the two of you was to resolve it all.

“I was very drunk last night,” he started. “I should have told you the truth before I got drunk, but the way the night unfolded… it didn’t work in my favo—okay, that—that sounds like an excuse. But I want you to know that I had the intention to tell you all along. It wasn’t something that I decided on a whim after I had some drinks.”

“Hmm.” You were staring at your shoes before you pursed your lips and glanced up at him. “And, uh, what about the bet? Was that something you made on a whim?”

Something very unpleasant churned in his stomach. He felt queasy.

“I did,” he admitted. “I was—it was—I thought it would prove a point.”

“Did it?”

“No. All it proved is that I made the wrong choice of caring about what my friends thought of me, when I should have cared about what you thought,” he said. His jaw was clenched, but his face was soft and almost fragile. You looked away again. His words sounded clumsy when you weren’t looking at him, when he didn’t know if you heard him. “I-I’m sorry. I swear I meant it when I said I loved—”

“Look,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t really see the point of this conversation, so maybe—”

“Okay—okay, just—listen,” he said in a hurry, raising both of his hands to the back of his head in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. Reluctantly, you returned your gaze to his. “I-I wanted to say that you can ask me, or say anything to me. I want to talk. Give me a chance to explain.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, though,” you said, and he felt his heart fall and thrash in the cavities of his chest like a frightened, dying fish out of the water.

He tried to remember if this was what you’d said to him last night—this brutal declaration that you’d run out of words—perhaps right after he told you about the bet.

It would have explained why he felt smothered the whole day—as if your decision to talk to him directly influenced his decision to breathe.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing something sharp in his throat. “Well, what about Reconnaissance?”

Your eyes widened for less than a second before you composed yourself. It confirmed to him that everything Taehyung had said was true.

“How did you—?” you began to ask, but Jungkook didn’t let you finish.

“Taehyung told me. You didn’t—you told everyone, but you couldn’t tell me.”

Despite the twinge of guilt in your stomach, you still thought this was an unfair accusation. You hadn’t told everyone. And Jungkook was the last person who could have reprimanded you for keeping a secret.

“This has nothing to do with you,” you said.

“How—” he started, then cut himself off with a scoff. “You’re leaving, and it has nothing to do with me?”

“I’m not—I’m still here, aren’t I?” you countered, changing your mind about making a promise to stay when chaos roamed free in your mind.

Jungkook recognised the hesitation in your eyes. He felt his anger grow at the possibility that you were genuinely considering this.

“Yeah, but for how long?!” he accused. “I thought—I thought we were finally on the same page about everything, and—”

“Oh!” you exclaimed; the single syllable so full of irony that he stopped talking immediately. “On the same page, are we? Okay, then, let me see if I got everything right here.”

There was that fire in your eyes—the one that he had wanted to see.

He felt equal parts terrified—because he couldn’t predict what you’d say next—and hopeful—because you were finally talking to him—as he watched you instead of replying.

“You made a bet with Sid about us,” you said—short and sharp. Jungkook thought he flinched, but he hoped you didn’t notice.

“Yes,” he said. “And I—”

“He said we wouldn’t get back together, and you said we would.”

Jungkook nodded, his throat suddenly too swollen to speak.

“And if you lost,” you continued. “You had to give up your Katana.”

“Mmhm.”

You paused here, frowning. You weren’t sure if you’d forgotten this part or if he hadn’t mentioned it last night.

“And if you won?” you asked.

He felt an unpleasant warmth wash over him at your question.

“I’d, uh—I would have gotten $10,000,” he admitted, his eyes darting between you and the ground. “And, you know. Uh, also you.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “Double win, isn’t it?”

He cringed at the sarcasm.

You continued to watch him with narrowed eyes, but you couldn’t really see him, blind to everything but the raging fury that swirled inside you, pounding on the walls of your chest to get out.

It wasn’t even the bet that you were mostly angry about, not really. You were angry about his choices in general. About his constant need to do whatever his friends told him to. About his utter lack of ability to stand up for himself—and for you.

You were angry that you were back to where you started, back on the doorstep of his dorm room four years ago, when you said you were done, and he did nothing to stop you from leaving.

You were sure you’d had a point you wanted to make when you brought up the bet a few minutes ago, perhaps to counter his attempts to blame you for not telling him about Reconnaissance. But you didn’t want to make any points anymore.

You didn't even want to speak.

“It really sounds fun,” you commented dryly. “Shame you didn’t win.”

“Y-you’re—but I-I don’t care if I win or lose,” he stammered, anguished by your dismissive tone. “That’s why I told you about it. The bet was a mistake. But I can’t turn the fucking time back, even though I really fucking want to. So I’d rather tell you and lose it than win it and lose you. There’s nothing I want more than—I’m—I just want to be honest. And I was honest. Every time I told you how I felt, I meant it.” He inhaled, rushing to get all his words out before he truly lost you—he saw the way you positioned your body away from him as soon as he mentioned honesty. “I was drunk when I told you about the bet, I know. I shouldn’t have been. But I told you, and—”

“See—no,” you cut him off. “You don’t get to feel good about that. You forgot that you told me.”

“I…” his sentence broke off. “I-I did. Okay. That’s true. And I’m sorry. I was really—I was drunk.”

“You’re always fucking drunk.”

You finally turned away as you groaned and allowed the wind to tangle your hair around the hood of your jacket.

You were exhausted of these same old excuses: either he was drunk, or he was with his friends. Sometimes both.

You thought you’d walked away from all of this four years ago. How had you ended up back in the exact same place? Why did you think it would be different this time?

Sid was still here. And his endless games were still here, too.

“Oh.” You remembered suddenly and turned back around. “Was this what the Paris trip was about? When we went to Kihyun and Chloé’s wedding? Is that why Sid didn’t want me to go with you?”

Jungkook closed his eyes. “It’s, uh… yes. It’s sort of what started the, um—the whole thing. But it wasn’t—I actually wanted to go there with you, it wasn’t—”

You hummed, cutting him off—as if you were a teacher, giving him a test, and he was a student, answering every question correctly, but letting you down every time he opened his mouth anyway.

You didn’t say anything else.

Jungkook thought he was going to burst into flames.

He could tell that you didn’t want to listen to him when he said he loved you. In fact, you made a conscious decision not to hear him.

He was horrified to realise that these past few weeks and all the conversations, all the unsaid words that you finally said, all the closure that you’d welcomed after years of evading it—all of it had evaporated after last night.

You refused to remember these moments, refused to believe that they were real.

He wasn’t just back to where he started when this tour began—back when you wouldn’t accept his confessions. When you tried to explain his feelings for you using the circumstances: a different continent, too many forgotten memories, too much time spent together. And you were right, in part, to have your doubts. He really hadn’t told you everything. But everything that he had told you, he’d meant it.

But now he was much farther back—at the very last row, merely observing your silhouette as you climbed on stage and introduced yourself in a cold, detached voice. Like he didn’t know you. Like he hadn’t spent the past seven years loving you.

One bet. One fucking bet.

And now he was scared that there was nothing else left.

Gripping the stitching on the sides of his dark grey jeans, Jungkook said one more time, “I’m sorry.”

You were looking down as you repeatedly nodded your head—each nod a new dagger in his chest.

“Thank you for that,” you said, letting the sentence falter.

It was clear that you’d meant what you said—you had nothing else to say. He would have liked to hear anything, really, except for the silence that followed.

“W-what can I do?” he asked, afraid that the conversation—that all of your conversations— had come to an end.

You frowned—all of your conversations had come to an end.

“What do you mean?” you asked almost incredulously.

“Well, you’re clearly mad, and—”

“No,” you said. “I briefly flew over mad last night when you pulled me out of the bus at six-thirty in the morning. Now I’m back to normal.”

Biting his lip ring and pulling it into his mouth, Jungkook stayed quiet for a few seconds.

He had expected this to be awful, meaning you’d be angry.

He hadn’t expected this to be worse than awful; meaning you’d stand here, looking at him with a straight face and hollow eyes, almost daring him to apologise again.

Now it’s finally too late, your posture was saying. You fucked up one too many times.

You truly weren’t mad, he realised.

You’d given up.

“And w-what—what is ‘normal,’ exactly?” he asked finally, even though he feared the answer.

You hammered the final nail into the coffin that he’d built himself.

“I’m your manager,” you said. What a great eulogy. “You should get back on the bus. We’re leaving soon.”

He knew he needed to apologise again, but nothing he said seemed to make a difference. You weren’t hearing him—and, honestly, he understood why.

But a part of him still felt frustrated. You had kept something from him, too. There was a risk you’d leave—forever—and he needed conditions; something he could do to make this right. To make you stay.

It was a stupid bet. He never should have made it. It was bad, but in comparison to his feelings for you—and yours for him, before he ruined everything—he didn’t think it was significant enough to make you consider leaving your job.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re my manager. And you can’t—you can’t leave the band.”

The determination in his tone made you pause.

“I can’t?” you repeated, your eyebrows drawn together in a defiant frown. “And who would stop me if I said I was leaving?”

Fuck, Jungkook thought in a sudden panic. That was not what he should have said. Now you might really leave.

Taehyung had warned him that he might push you towards the wrong decision. And he was doing exactly that.

“You—you know what I mean...” he faltered, discouraged by your resistance. “I-I fucked up, I know that. Tell me how to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” you said. “Get on the bus.”

He stood still. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

“It’s going to be like it always was,” you said. “Get on the fucking bus, Jungkook.”

He didn’t. You were so close to him now that he could smell your perfume and the apple scent of your shampoo. He remembered himself years ago, hoping that one day, apples would stop reminding him of you.

Now he knew how outrageously absurd it was to hope for this when he was convinced that all versions of him—across all universes—always immediately thought of you whenever they tasted apples.

“Don’t—you can’t start treating me like everything that happened between us didn’t happen,” he retorted—with all the anger that he had at the thought of never having you this close to him again.

“What happened, exactly?” you snapped. “You’ve clearly never bothered to be honest with me for one second until last night, never bothered to even think about me, because you—”

“I thought about you all the time, though!”

“Yeah, because you had no other fucking choice!” you rebutted. “If you didn’t think of me, you would have lost the bet. None of it was genuine—”

“I lost the bet because I was thinking of you,” he defended, furiously waving his hands around.

“Oh! That’s so considerate!” Your laughter was rigid and bitter. “Maybe it’s me who should apologise. I’m so sorry I ended up being the reason why you lost the bet.”

He dropped his hands, groaning. Once again, he realised how terrible he was at telling the truth, and how splendid at saying all the wrong things.

“Don’t—don’t be like that,” he asked, agitated.

You glared at him. “Like what?”

“Just—difficult.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” you said. “I’ll make this very simple for you: we’re done talking about your shit.” You pulled back from him to turn around. “Get on the fucking bus. I have more important things to do.”

Immediately, Jungkook grabbed both of your hands to stop you from leaving.

You turned back to him with wide eyes, and your stunned stiffness gave him enough time to properly wrap his fingers around your wrists.

“Is that your plan, then?” he demanded. His hands were cold, but his grip was loose enough for you to push him away—but the challenge in his question made you wait, frozen in place. “You’re just going to walk away again? Start working with a different band so you won’t have to think about your feelings? Won’t have to face your fears of trying again? That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it? Just fucking walking away.”

He'd touched something—there was a raw wildfire in your eyes now, nothing like the flames he’d seen before.

You yanked your hand out of his grip and took a step back.

“You know what?” you said. “It is. It is my solution to everything. And you want to know something else? This bet isn’t even the worst thing. And that’s the worst thing—the fact that this is just another bullet point in an endless list of shit that you and your friends have done. So, yes. I am walking away. I should have never even come back in the first place.”

Jungkook felt the ground beneath his feet tremble unsteadily at your words—much like his hands by his sides.

Back in Amsterdam, you’d told him that you forgave him for not realising how many mistakes he’d made in your relationship. He’d seen a glimpse of a second chance that night in your hotel room.

He was aware of his never-ending list of mistakes now. And still, he made new ones.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I—”

“Get on the bus,” you said, turning around to face the empty parking lot instead of his apologetic face. “I still need to call the other drivers and check in with the rest of the crew.”

You were doing your job. You were still talking to him. He should have been glad.

Instead, he couldn’t force his legs to move or his heart to keep beating.

“I… Can—can you just—just tell me that you’ll stay with the band,” he pleaded.

Your shoulders were straight as you stood with your back to him, your hands clenched into distraught fists by your sides. He’d once jokingly tried to teach you the proper stance in a fight. Really, it was you who should have done the teaching.

“Get on the bus,” you repeated.

His distress was relentless. “I will. But we have to talk about—”

“We don’t have to do anything,” you argued. “I think it’s better if we stop having conversations unrelated to Rated Riot altogether, if that’s alright with you.”

He watched your back with unwavering determination. “It’s not.”

“Tough. Get in.”

He needed a minute to convince himself to quit arguing, to drain the fight out of his chest. Then another minute to steady his breathing enough to turn towards the bus.

As he approached the door, he looked back at you and caught the way you had glanced at him over your shoulder. There was a dampness in your eyes from the heavy wind. He saw it right before you turned away again.

He swayed lightly on the steps of the bus. “Please, just—”

“Don’t,” you said, and your shaky voice turned the word into a warning rather than an order. “Just get in. We’re done talking.”

With your back still turned to the bus, you heard Jungkook climb the steps, seemingly hesitate once more, and then finally walk inside. The automatic door slammed shut behind him with a dull thud that was almost as loud as the defeated beats of your heart in your chest.

Alone in the parking lot, you finally exhaled all that you’d kept inside and then some. You wanted your lungs to feel as empty as your chest.

For just a minute, you couldn’t be Rated Riot’s manager.

For just a minute, you needed to be yourself and by yourself as you squatted, hugging your knees to your chest.

Your laboured breaths made you rock on your feet slightly as your chest rose and fell at an increasing pace, but you resisted the throbbing hurt inside—you couldn’t cry. You wouldn’t.

In a minute, you’d have to check on the band and make sure all of them were on the bus before leaving for Cologne.

In a minute, you’d have to face Jungkook again and talk to him as if nothing had happened.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The bet was hurtful. But what hurt even more was your own choice to let it all escalate to the point where losing it all again hurt. Still wanting him, even now, hurt. His unchanging priorities—his friends first, everyone else second—hurt.

You didn’t want to talk to him as if nothing had happened. But you had to.

Maybe it was for the better. The bet was a cold shower, jolting you awake and reminding you that trying again never worked.

And really, perhaps you should have seen this coming. You knew that this was just another one of Sid’s games that Jungkook had willingly participated in. Truly, this was nothing new in your experience and hardly different from Sid dropping Jungkook off at the grimiest bar in town and sending you on a scavenger hunt to find him—night, after night, after night.

You stood up with a sharp inhale.

You’d had enough.

If Jungkook wanted to continue playing, he could do it by himself. You refused to be a part of it again.

However, ending things with Jungkook and ensuring that he didn’t win this bet didn’t feel like your win, either.

It felt like you both lost.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the fountain”

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