#so i asked my roomie to come with my to my appointment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitchlessdino · 1 year ago

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dino hoshi threesome

i've never seen this pairing (i think) and i think it could be fun to see them try to one-up each other

maybe roommate au, if you feel like it - but i'm ok with anything !

Pairing: chan x fem!reader x soonyoung

Genre: smut, slight crack

Word count: 3.7

tags: roommates au, hook up!chan, hookup!soonyoung, soonchan banter, daddy kink, pet names (princess), degradation, praise kink, face sitting, unproetcted sex, blow jobs, fingering, double vaginal penetration, brief anal play, clit slaping, brief choking

Summary: Two hookups from two different nights are now your roommates and they don’t want the other one knowing to not make anymore weird than it needs to be. Eventually the true comes out when they’re both asking for seconds.

author note: enjoy, bee being fucked up again

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruriri @jeonride @novalpha

You have as much casual sex as the next person and never consider it a problem in how you lived your life. Not until recently anyway.

Turns out your hook-up from January 20th was not only friends with the one from January 23rd, but they’re roommates. But not just roommates, no, they’re your new roommates.

You remember sitting there surprised meeting them at their apartment. Their familiar attractive faces stare back at you like both had just seen a ghost, but invite you in for the roommate interview anyway. You keep your composure, ignoring the fact you’ve seen look how their naked bodies and dicks looked before you’ve ever stepped foot in their residence, and answer relevant questions as promptly as possible. Playing up as a good roommate was always the plan, but now you just had to do without thinking about–wait no. Place and time.

January 23rd, you remember his name now is Chan, excuses himself to the restroom leaving you with January 20, Soonyoung. There’s a moment of silence before you exchange awkward smiles, tension stilling the room until breathing doesn’t even get to be an option. Most of the topics have been covered and seems you’ve done it well enough, but the thought weighs on your mind whether that mattered given your history.

You break down the facade, facing him with an earnest expression. “Look if this is gonna be weird—“

“We both think you’re the best candidate out of the applicants we have.”

You blink back at him, the wind knocked out of your lungs. “Really?”

He has a genuine smile on his face, nodding back at you with almost a look of gratitude. He noticeably leans over more comfortably, a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Yeah, I get we’ve hooked up, but he doesn't have to know, and we really, really need to stay on this lease. Rental is absolutely brutal right now, please. We can just live together like nothing happened.”

You’re not sure how you got this lucky, but something in you told you to hold back from revealing you slept with Chan too, so you kept that to yourself. Instead, you quickly made arrangements with him there and set sound ground rules on the contract. You seal the process with a few initials, a few signatures, and finally a handshake. His hand was flushed, firm, and reliable, shocking you with a flash memory of the night you met Soonyoung, and pull away the second it feel like you lingered too long.

“Thanks, Soonyoung.”

He puts the hand he shook with in his pocket, smiling in a friendly manner before pulling Chan towards the center of the room after the younger man had finished up whatever he needed in the restroom. “Chan can explain some things to you while you’re still here. I’d help but I was already cutting close with another appointment I have. See you tomorrow, roomie!”

Soonyoung could not get out of this place fast enough. Now you’re alone with yet another man you whom you’ve had a brief history with. Unlike Soonyoung, Chan doesn't showcase the same feelings already offering to show you around the amenities included as if he was a realtor you met the first time today. Maybe that’ll make things easier.

He tours you in the kitchen first, mentioning something about “plenty of pantry space” because they “mostly eat out anyway,” besides the weekly homemade dinners, which he mentions would be fun with an extra person to help again. You could only be so lucky not to be stuck with dealing with cooking all on your own.

Chan must’ve seen your burdened expression and he quickly comes to defense by saying they’d do the heavy lifting the first few dinners for whoever moves in. after that would be a more even distributed effort. You express your gratitude with a smile. “You guys sound really accommodating. That was one of the issues I had with my previous living arrangement and things like cleaning. They were so hard to get through.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that since it was clean the last time I was there.”

You shoot your eyes open, rather flustered at how easily he brought it up while arousal churned your stomach at the memory. You cross your arms scoffing, attempting to play it off nonchalantly, “Well, no thanks to them. I’m good at keeping things tidy.”

“Makes you a pretty ideal person to live with then.”

“I hope so.” You shrug.

“So…you’re moving in?” There’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes as a smile turns up at a corner mischievously.

You nod. “Soonyoung convinced me.”

“Good. That’s great. You were our first choice.”

“So, you don’t think it’ll be weird with, you know?”

“As long as we keep it between us. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Plus, it’ll be nice to get to know you with clothes on.”

You best not let that last comment get to you. You ignore how it makes you feel in the pit of your stomach, how it felt like to have him stretch you open, and god, were you needing these days to be stretched open.You letting out an airy chuckle before ignoring the words with clenched legs as he’s showing you off the rest of the apartment. He mentions some things like the shower needs a few seconds to get hot, the balcony being teh best place to get a breather, and the last roommate had something going on before deciding to leave, soon concluding your tour.

He walks you towards the entry way, leaving between you a healthy distance. The ceiling lamp aboves you flickers, cascading the side of his faces with shadows ever so aethetically. He is picture perfect and it makes you want to capture his face and hang it up on a wall for all of eternity. “I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow right?”

“Yeah, be by with some of my stuff.”

“Alright, let me have your phone.” You give it to him, briefly brushing against his hand, and he starts typing in his number before a text tone went off in his pocket and handing you back your phone. “Text me when you come by, and I’ll help you bring your stuff in.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I appreciate you being so prompt with a response.”

There’s that devastatingly charming smile that lured you into bed months ago. He steps forward cautiously as if accessing the situation. Your breath hitches the closer he closes in and you take notice of how his eyes roam over your body, mentally undressing you.

“Maybe after I help with you other things as well,” he implies suggestively.

“Maybe,” you entertain, despite your better judgment of knowing how bad of an idea it’d be.

And in the nick of time, Soonyoung is home, opening the door, forcing you to leave and come back the next day with heavy thoughts in your mind.

The weeks go on more unorthodox than you predicted. While settling in, you indulge in a bit of roommate bonding: group dinners, laughing at Soonyoung’s outbursts, listening to Chan ramble about random topics before he loses his train of thought, and all while avoiding sexually charged situations. Most of those objectives go smoothly, with the exception of the last bit, making you teh text-book definition of blue-balled.

Most of those cases involved mainly Chan, who somehow knew how to turn any situation alone into moments of temptation. He exhibited several light touches, intimate whispers, and purposeful body contact (exhibit a: feeling how his obvious bulge digs into your back as he reaches for something on the top shelf). You know it’s all on purpose and yet there isn’t an atom in your very being to get you to stop it.

Other cases were Soonyoung, who does them seemingly unintentionally, getting himself into blush-inducing situations that could only get him in more trouble than prepared for. This included the classic “doing laundry with you and tripping, toppling on top of each other over folding fitted sheets”. The innocent glint in his eyes shifts completely, warranting a momentary look of visceral lustn, until he’s rolling away like a loose hot dog before he rejects succumbing to such thoughts.

So far, things have yet to escalate despite the incidents, that is until Chan mixed up Soonyoung’s work schedule.

“Hey, any problem with me coming in?”

“Oh, no. By all means.”

You hold your legs to your knees underneath your blanket and set your book aside near your lamp light. Chan smiles at your inviting demeanor as his weight dips into the bed near your feet. Deceiving you with innocuous warmth in his eyes.“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing important. What’s up?”

“Just wondering how you like it so far. Hopefully, we’ve made you feel welcome. At least in my case.”

“I think both of you have done a good job of doing that.”

“That’s good to hear, but you know,” he scoots closer, “you can tell us–me–anything. We’re accommodating remember?”

His body reels in your direction, radiating a radioactive heat.

You swallow a moan about to errupt. “Of course.”

“Then tell me, what’s getting you all worked up right now?”

You blink at him, lightly scoffing at such an assumption. “What? Nothing. What makes you think that?”

His grin. His cocky, condescending grin. Goodness, gracious. “The tremble in your voice, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have.”

“You saw me, Chan. I was reading.”

You immediately try to hide the book he reaches out for, only to have it pried from your grasp. “Twisted games? Wonder what kind of games those are.”

You snatch away before he can look over at the synopsis, and one way or another, he buries his bare palms in the mattress on either side of you, locking you in his grasp. The air is charged in that familair way. Your eyes staring back at each other with shallow breaths, and lewd highs, before the collision of your lips. He climbs on top of you, legs cradling your sides as his fingers run through the back of your head.

His name comes on in soft, needy whispers, to which you feel the permanent cocky smile against your lips. “I bet you’ve been waiting for me to do that, huh?”

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” you answer impatiently before pulling right back where he needed to be.

Chan makes himself familiar on your body like he’s never left, moving one hand up your shirt and the other down your pants. His digits find precisely what he expects: your heat sopping between his pads, practically begging to be touched. “You’re soaked, princess.” He runs himself over your folds then through your slick slit, a thin film of aroused viscosity coating him. “Should Daddy make you feel good like last time again?”

That’s when the unexpected occurs: a knock at your bedroom door. “Hey, can we talk?”

Chan's eyes shoot open like saucers, no sign of his once cool demeanor. “Soonyoung,” he whispers aggressively, “I thought he was working!”

“It’s Wednesday!”

“Shit.”

“Covers now.”

He opens the flap of your blanket before crawling inside and laying between your legs, letting you catch that small smile on his face before he disappears from sight. You fluff Chan’s figure out like he’s a pillow and pile on the blankets and pillows in attempt to camouflage. “S-sure, Soonyoung!”

The outsider enters unsuspectingly, only noticing how much you’ve bundled yourself without thinking much of it. “Oh, you look cozy.”

“Was gonna turn in soon, ha. What’s up, Soon-y-young?”As you ask that, you can feel Chan’s fingers in and out of you, the pressure of his thumb over your clit burning your core enticingly.

Soonyoung makes himself come to the edge of your bed, practicing his breathing to get out the words he’s held in that only gets truer the longer you share the same space. “I wanted to be honest with you.”

“Mmh?”

Now Chan is shoving himself knuckles deep, curling his digits in a method, and has your toes flexed. You clench around him, holding back gasps, all while keeping tight-lipped smile.

“I was really careful about letting things escalate, but I don’t think I shouldn’t bottle my feelings up anymore.”

You’re forcing out these inappropriate thoughts. Forcing out the sensation of Chan practically ruining you in the middle of Soonyoung’s heartfelt speech. You’re overwhelmed with guilt but at this point, guilt and thrill became all the same.

“I know I said we should keep it a secret but, I think we should tell Chan.” The devil himself halts all movement, his ears now on high alert. “Because I think I like you and I want to make us a thing—“

“Like hell, you will!”

Chan rises from the depth of the pillow mountain and stares back at his roommate with much sustenance. The older man jumps at the abrupt appearance of his other roommate, taken aback being an understatement of what he’s feeling at the moment. “Chan?”

“You can turn yourself around and try again in 500 business days.”

“How are you—why are you—WHAT IS THAT DOING THERE?”

Soonyoung refers to the hand down your pants with an accusatory finger darted in its direction. Chan snorts, “Why this,” he shoves himself inside you at a jarring pace, causing your fingers to dig in the sheets, “I’m fulfilling my princess's filthy wishes. Plus I was here first.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “I got her months ago, kid. Keep up.”

“So did I. This isn’t new for me, as you can tell by how much of a mess she is for me.”

“Oh really? I met her in January.”

“Oh yeah, when? Because so did I.”

“20th.”

“Fuck.”

“Ha-ha, bitch! I win!”

“Oh yeah, who’s the one with the busy fingers?”

You can only take up so much more of the childish banter until you’re interrupting them with a guttural moan. “Please stop…and fuck me already.”

“What? Who? Both of us?” If Soonyoung was a game character, he’d have an exclamation point popping out of his head now.

“Are you seriously asking to have both of us?” Chan interjects. By his facial expression, you could’ve confused him for being offended, but Chan doesn’t stop the terror of his fingers, only thrusting in faster, your pussy squelching from the vicious ooze. “Needy little princess wants to be stuffed with two cocks, hmm?”

Soonyoung may have been late to the party but the appetizer was absolutely to die for. You’re soaking through your shorts, sweat now noticeably pilling from the forehead, and Soonyoung can’t believe he didn’t realize it earlier. In any other situation, he’d be offended. But when you respond to Chan with a “Yes, daddy,” and he realizes he’s not so easily intimidated.

Your pants now abandoned to the side of the room left space for Chan’s face while you’re seated against it, and he can’t help but get lost between your legs like a found treasure. His moans vibrate through your core, his fingers are drenched, and your arousal seeping from your cunt stream down his face and neck, soaking through your sheets.

Your legs are shaking, overwhelmed to the point of pulling away, only to have Chan pull you back against his mouth through sheer force. His jaw is restless in his venture, and his tongue, like a joystick, moves with purpose, ebbing every one of your precious whines and whimpers. You cry out when the muscle circles around your clit, his chin splitting between your folds and prods at your moisture.

You double over in anguish, breaking away from the salty-sweet taste of Soonyoung’s cock before he pushes it back inside your mouth, gripping you by the strands of your hair. “Who told you to stop taking my cock?”

Your tongue covers his base, running along the veins of his shaft as you bobbed, getting louder as he thrusts inside you. Your eyes stare back at him wide and submissive, batting your lashes when you feel him hit the back of your throat, meanwhile your hands or wet in a mix of saliva and precum, wet noises and gagging becoming as melodious as real music. “Mmh, get my dick wet just like that while Chan gets your pussy wet and juicy to put our cocks in? Hmm? Take our cocks like our perfect slutty roommate?”

You nod, trembling as Chan clutches you firmly, hands against your ass as he moves so that you rub against his mouth. Soonyoung revels in your body language. From the clench of your hips to the sway of your breasts, he’s simply in awe at your perfection. His hands your breasts, feeling them spill out between his fingers before squeezing your hardened peaks between his fingerprints, pinching at their sensitivity, and you clench your abdomen at the sensation.

In that second, you release yourself in Chan, your cum traveling in hot streams as they flood his gums. His tongue laps every bit. Taken by your scent, he buries his nose until it feels like he’s envisioning stars in an empty sky, heart pulsing a million times a minute. When you finish, he parts from your folds, his lips separating in glistening translucent strands before climbing out from under you to replace Soonyoung’s cock with himself, pushing your load back inside you.

“Hey!”

The heat of his tongue flusters you, having you gush and melt around him, feeling his hand slip down you wait as his hand finds your ass before squeezing. Chan parts from your lips in chuckles, those clear ribbons stretching from your mouth to his, he caresses your head before speaking to his long-time roommate. “She needed to taste that. Show him, princess.”

He shoves you Soonyoung’s way and soon the other man understands exactly what the younger man meant. Like Ambrosia, your cum is addictive on your tongue, sweet and rich, he feels as if you embodied everything sex and he couldn’t have enough. On the other hand, Chan props you on all fours, your round ass pointed in his direction, and he finds the rest of your arousal from behind. His tongue tickles your puckered rim, wetting it as his fingers tether to your clit and rubbing it against his fingertips

He kisses flushed skin, fingers gliding over your slit, aggressively devouring you with teeth and all. “Daddy loves this cunt of yours princess…mmh…Both your holes are so perfect,” He spanks your plush flesh, sighing feeling you jump underneath him. “Soonyoung get underneath her.”

The spell of sex is so strong when Soonyoung mindlessly obeys. His hands glide over your sides, peppering kisses all over your face before pulling your hips towards him. Those kisses help in hushing your screams when Chan pulls out his cock, the head rubbing against your moisture before it fills you inch by inch. You clench around him, burying your face in Sonyoung’s shoulder as you get stretched open.

Chan grins, landing strokes loud enough to sound off in another room, pounding you deep without remorse. “So tight…but you can take me, baby. I know you can.”

“Such a good girl,” Soonyoung encouragingly coos in your ear, pebbling your skin all over in goosebumps. “Whose pussy is that, hmm?”

Your breath hitches, seizing at every slap of skin, both from Chan's lap and palm. Your nails dig into Soonyoung’s shoulder, your lips grazing his neck. “It’s your pussy, it’s both your fucking pussy—shit…”

You press your waist against Soonyoung, waves of arousal contracting shorter the faster Chan pitches his tent inside you. Without clear warning, Soonyoung finds his place in your walls, right between you and Chan. Your jaw falls, bellowing out an obnoxiously loud laughter of disbelief until it melts into aggressive pleads, screaming, “yes, yes” and “just like that, fuck me,” until their mismatched rhythm gradually evens out.

Chan pulls you against his chest, having you pound against him and simultaneously bouncing away on Soonyoung. You reunite with Chan’s kiss as he’s slapping at your clit like a sadist teh stinging bringing buckles knees as you asked for more. His smile, unbearably beautiful yet evil, burns your skin like a gas stove. Your chest rapidly rises and falls, feeling your eyes flutter the back of your skull as another wave of arousal hits.

Your eyes dart to Soonyoung, drinking in his shapely body that glistens in sweat you’d lick off in heat or snow before meeting his dizzy gaze framed in sweat-dampened hair. You moan down at him, calling his name as his hands roam up your body. “You look fucking breathtaking…” he says stealing the words right from your mouth. “You’re gonna cum for us, baby?”

You whine, fingers curling up in frustration as you high keep going in going with no break, amplified by being crushed against Chan’s toned chest and abdomen until your breathing comes out in a staccato rhythm.

“Do it, just for us. We want you to cum around our cocks like the good slutty girl we know you are.” Soonyoung eggs.

“S-soon…”

Chan's hand clamps over your neck, lips fanning hot breath on your ear as puts pressure on your neck. You gasp for life, groans in the depth of your throat erupting followed by the pool of lust in your stomach. “Do it, princess. Daddy wants to see you make a mess…”

“Daddy, I don’t know–ah–overstimulated–”

“That’s no excuse, princess. Cum. Cum like a princess is meant to.”

Emotions are heightened by their thrusts, filling your orifices with not only themself but pure saturated euphoria. You contract, swallowing your moans and salvia, thighs rubbing helplessly as you let the wave reach its peak and dissipate, having been followed up by the rush of being filled to the brim with their sweet release. You ram down on Soonyoung’s length to trap the load, by the weakness in your legs causes you to fall against him, meeting his lips serendipitously in a tender, relieving kiss.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he says in a hushed voice.

“We,” Chan takes a moment to catch his breath, “We’re doing this again. All of us.”

You softly smile before pulling Chan down in the pile, cuddling harmoniously until it dawns on all of you the desperately needed shower. Then, you’re all over each other again. And again. And again. This is going to be one hell of a living arrangement.

Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!

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wannabepapa · 11 months ago

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I see you’ve been reboggling a lot of old asks from me which has also gotten my brain juice flowin like

Lately I’ve been thinking about roommates who bond over a pregnancy. A one night stand or a surrogacy, doesn’t really matter, all we care about are the roomies who are now stuck in this fun situation of finding a new groove. Bonus points if the pregnant one gets big and uncomfy quick, leading to far far more late night rendezvouses.

The way I picture it, it starts with your typical incredibly awkward “I gotta come clean about something” scenario, with roomie B expecting a broken appliance or a forgetting power bill, but certainly not a pregnancy! Then as roomie A grows, they get needy, which sends roomie B into overdrive. Late night pizza runs become a regular occurrence, waking up way too early to hold their roommates hair, sitting up at night cause roomie A thinks they felt a kick and wants witnesses.

Then break happens, they go home, and when roomie A comes back they’re HUGE, which changes everything. Suddenly they need so much more to be comfy, and roomie B begins to realize just how much they like being there for their pal. They spend all afternoon at school just to come home and both collapse into the same twin bed, using the other bedroom as storage because who needs it? Sharing is caring after all. Roomie B is there to hold roomie A when they’re sobbing at a ghibli film or some advertisement about sad animals, they’re there to help with anything academic or physical, they’re driving their expectant buddy to and from appointments now that they’ve outgrown the drivers seat.

Bajshxjhshxhs it is 5 am and this ask is ridiculously long winded but I am tired and sappy and obsessed with this idea and thought you’d like it okie bye

uh hello???????? you have left this beauty of an ask in my inbox?????? Marin i am kissing your forehead right now.

roommate B has had nothing but terrible experiences with past roommates so when A comes to confess something they brace themselves for a problem. it's expected, especially when A looks anxious and worried before spilling the secret. the last thing that B would have ever expected was to be living with someone who was going to have a baby. they don't hate babies but they never hung out with people who had children of their own. it was going to be a learning curve to say the least.

the roommates were never close in the beginning, keeping to themselves as they had only recently roomed together but now they find themselves in each other's space. A has asked for help in the morning because the nausea makes it tough to function early in the morning so B is on kitchen duty. B tends to do a lot of the clean up now to give their roomie a break in the first trimester. it's only fair that someone does the bulk of the housework when A is creating a whole person over the course of nine months!

B is also in this weird "I'm not the parent of this child but I feel responsible for A and this child" state of mind that is confusing to them. they don't know why their brain has latched onto being the caretaker for a pregnant person but whatever A asks for, they get. A is feeling cold and wants to borrow a blanket? it's put in the dryer so it's extra warm. it's two am and they have an intense craving for pizza, but only the pizza at this shop that is an hour away? yeah just let B get dressed and get coffee in them before they take the drive. they don't want to be sitting alone at their doctor's appointment and want moral support? of course B will be driving them to and from every appointment now so they don't have to be alone. A meekly knocks on the bedroom door and says the baby needs a cuddle? get in under the covers and pick a movie! it's this perfectly platonic relationship that both just don't acknowledge but now all of their family and friends wonder if they're dating.

when they have to go home for their respective holidays there are definitely tears shed by A. it's seventy-five percent hormones and twenty-five percent not wanting to be away from B for weeks on end. they're ending their second trimester right now and terribly needy. the roomies have forgone sticking to each other's rooms to alternating every few days—it's become their routine. A also worries that something catastrophic will happen and B will force them to move out which B shuts down immediately. they're stuck with each other now whether they liked it or not. this comfortable thing the roomies have with each other is too precious to B for it to ever cross their mind to end it. A has become more than a friend, they've become a companion that has made their days more exciting ever since they got close. it isn't long after A is dropped off at the airport (with more tears shed) and B not even out of the parking structure that a text is sent that reads "we already miss you :c"

they talk every day of the break. A leaves no details of the crazy antics sprinkle (the baby has a thing for funfetti cake and B said they were probably a sprinkle now so it stuck) has been up to and complaining how cold it was where their family lives. they've sent many a selfie where they were hidden under piles of blankets or bundled up in multiple layers of warm clothes with a pouty lip and silly quip about how nobody does the dryer trick here like B does. it's too cute for B to handle. the weeks drag on for eternity to their dismay, their mind straying to how their gravid friend was doing.

to make matters worse A was stuck for an extra week due to a surprise blizzard that grounded all planes going in and out of the state. that was nearly a month apart and it drove B mad. too much time has been spent away from A and there was going to be hell to pay if this new flight would be canceled. if they were stuck any longer with their parents A wouldn't be cleared to fly, leaving them with no other choice but driving hours back down. B would have gone up there themselves to bring A back if it was necessary but to their happiness there were no cancelations and A was in route back home. B couldn't pick them up—work had switched schedules without asking—so they sent a friend to go to the airport for pick up. luckily A would already be home by the time B was off work so they wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

B never considered how fast someone grew in their final months of pregnancy. A's clothes still hide the bump before they left. now, walking into the apartment, B could do nothing except stare at their roommate. A hadn't grown, but popped in the last month since they were apart! there was an undeniable swell that tented A's shirt, their stance wider as they waddled to the door to greet B with a watery grin. the bump is pressed between them which makes it impossible to really hug while making it hard for B to not plaster their hands on the belly. the baby takes the opportune moment to shift between them as they were clearly unhappy about being squished. A chuckles at the movement but B is completely losing it.

after that they don't really stay apart for long. they're very, very close to one another at every second of the day just to revel in the fact that the baby will be born soon. A likes to complain about the pains from the movements of the nugget but they will actually miss it. B, however, has made it loud and clear how they'll miss being able to cuddle up with the belly and feel the nugget move. though both are equally excited to meet the little kicker that they've been waiting nearly ten months to hold.

#;ask and ye shall receive #darling marin #domestic things #platonic friends

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sleepyspoonie · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 1,161 times in 2022

17 posts created (1%)

1,144 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@zenosanalytic

@renthony

@saltedswan

@queerpyracy

@curiouscarnifex

I tagged 699 of my posts in 2022

Only 40% of my posts had no tags

#the locked tomb - 136 posts

#ntn spoilers - 63 posts

#mauveen tag - 59 posts

#revka tag - 35 posts

#ollivander tag - 34 posts

#homestuck - 33 posts

#lysette tag - 26 posts

#animals - 20 posts

#pride tag - 17 posts

#poetry - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and also taped up a conversion chart in the closet next to our dresser that does celsius to fahrenheit so they can actually understand the

My Top Posts in 2022:

was DISTRAUGHT because the quilt my mom made when she was a teenager seemingly got lost in the move to our new house, and we couldn't find it anywhere in any of the boxes or in our old apartment

i cried the whole way home and my wife made it their mission in life to find this thing, bc it's one of my most cherished irreplaceable possessions, and naturally my wife Does Not Want Me To Be Sad. promises to open every box, go through the car, root through the roomie's stuff, the works

they were horrified to find out they were the criminal the whole time, when they found it in a suitcase they had stuffed under the bed without ever checking to see what was inside of it 😳

19 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

me: our anniversary is coming up soon my wife: yeah :3 me: we've been married almost three years my wife: yeah :3 me: and you only just realized today that i have heterochromia my wife: SHUT UP!!! ):

25 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

my wife has lost their voice and whenever I don't do what they want they just aggressively wave this post in my face

25 notes - Posted December 3, 2022

Help, a young dragon decided my root cellar is her new lair, what do I do? (URGENT)

107 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i don't know who needs to hear this, but you can refuse to be weighed at the doctor's office. they don't need it to evaluate anything about you unless you're getting anesthetized or something, so if having your weight taken at the doctor's office stresses you out, consider asking to opt out of the process to save yourself the anxiety or triggering experience.

your weight is actually only documented for insurance purposes because insurance companies require doctors to gather a certain number of biometrics to get reimbursed for your appointment. you can just refuse to be weighed and they'll just take another metric instead.

this is especially valuable for fat people and people with or recovering from eating disorders, but it can also be beneficial for anyone who simply doesn't want to be subjected to scrutiny about their weight when trying to get treatment for an unrelated issue. If the doctor really needs your weight for a specific treatment, they'll let you know.

here are a few ways you can tell your doctor's team that you don't want to be weighed:

"i'd like to decline to be weighed."

"could you please add a note to my file that I'd like to decline being weighed for all future appointments?"

"i'm in recovery for an eating disorder, and I need a note added to my file that i shouldn't be weighed when i come to your office. could you help me get that added?"

"i should have a note in my file stating that I don't want to be weighed." (if you're being asked after you've already told them to note it for you)

please feel free to spread the word around! fatphobes dni.

#cw weight discussion | #cw weight bias | #cw doctors | #cw medical | #cw medical fatphobia

216 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I really went all in on the locked tomb this year lmao

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tjsplace · 10 days ago

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oct 28

7.40 am

i got unbalanced yesterday. i was so dysregulated that i ended up spontaneously in a friend's house. a friend i hardly ever see. i texted her i was nearby that i don't do this anymore but i needed to come over to her place. she said what's wrong and i said i wasn't feeling well. she said i should come over. she told me it was okay, i was just dysregulated. it happens. i just need to learn to manage my insanity. i usually get mad when people call me crazy. but she said she's also crazy and that's something we have to deal with, because we're artists. i helped her with her postulation for a writing nyu master's degree or something. she said thank you for coming by, it was mutually beneficial. she did calm me down and she is right. i hate it so much and i gotta make peace with it. i'm gonna ask my therapist what the tarot spread i read last night meant. i feel like i have these so many thoughts and i know them by heart. i know what i should do. but should is a strong word. and i know exactly all the facts that happened. but i never tell them to anyone. not really. i just scrape the surface. do i? it sounds like, now that i remember, i told my roomie about the possible abuse. but i didn't tell my friend, or my other fucking uni group partner friend. i got to his house to get my hard drive and i started sweating profusely, feeling like shit. he asked me if i was feeling okay. i said yes and left. and cried. fuck. can't be ashamed of this, can i? i had a moment of weakness.

i have no money. literally. less than a dollar. way less than mil pesos. i'm hungry. i have no food and less than twenty cigarettes. i don't know what i'm gonna do. i don't wanna ask my dad for money. it's the only way i talk to him now. i hate it. i hate myself. i love myself. i love my sensitivity. my smart brain. my creative soul. my empathy and my naivety. my ambition and my dreams. gonna live in la, maybe west hollywood or silverlake. i'm finally admitting that. i used to be embarrassed of this dream. now i'm embracing it.

do i have to clarify that i'm sort of high right now?

2.26 pm

so... i fucked up. my therapy appointment is tomorrow, not today. i walked the whole hour there. trying to calm myself down because i've been so unbalanced. the moment i figured out she wasn't there, i remembered it's tomorrow. fuck. then my friends bailed on me today. i got really nervous and i sat on the street, sunglasses on, crying. i called my sister and she called me an uber because i have no money. i couldn't move. i was too paralyzed by my overwhelming feelings. i came home, cooked rice and sausages, and had a coffee before eating. then i got high. i'm high. i'm an addict. i know that i am. to cigarettes and weed. before i ran out of money, i was a bit alcoholic too. i don't know if i wanna, if i should sleep. i don't know what my body wants.

11.05 pm

my mom called me dramatic and i hate it. i had to ask my dad for money and i hate it. the first thing i bought was cigarettes. the second thing was beer and chips. i hate it.

#tj #oct #2024

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sheepishfreeloader · 1 year ago

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Roomies make tons of leftovers they never eat and buy fruits and cut veggies they also don’t eat which rot in the fridge

It’s all their food but they made it so it’s my partners “chore” to deal with their leftovers even though it’s literally all theirs

I try and discuss how maybe they can just do it since it’s all their food and we already take care of our own leftovers, I don’t see why we have to do theirs too since we make so little and they make so much

Instead of a waiting for a normal discussion after work, the one roomie who doesn’t work decides to get up early and stomp downstairs and slam doors and slam the garbage lid tossing out her and her partners nasty leftovers 😑

Girl no one told you you had to get up at 8am to stomp your butt downstairs and clean. We were literally just discussing changing the chore because it’s not working and our cooking situation changed earlier this year. If you wanna be mad be mad, it’s your own problem. Your going on your second vacation this year that your partner is 100% paying for and driving you to. Get over it. It’s a chore you should have been doing anyway instead of shoving it off on my partner 😑

I’ve been doing great this year not letting her bad attitude, inability to small talk normally with friends, and general crabbiness not get me too worked up like it did all the time last year. Pretending she doesn’t exist usually helps lmao, and since she pretty much just lives in the living room watching TV all day and we stopped eating her cooking several months ago she usually just blends in like she’s barely there. But god dang. Stomping and slamming shit like a child when someone asks her to take care of her rotten food? Incomprehensible. But I need to remember most of the time anger isn’t about you, it’s about things they’re going through being misdirected. My request and discussion is reasonable, but her explosive reaction is due to stress from her mother, having to pack, and doctors appointments, and doesn’t make what I asked any less normal. It’s a her problem.

“Can you take care of your rotten food, and maybe discuss changing the chore because you make a ton of leftovers and shouldn’t expect my fiancé to take care of our food AND your food” is NOT unreasonable. Her anger is not my problem. It is not my issue. I don’t have to let her emotional issues bleed into me or keep me from my own peace of mind.

If she wants to push off all the major chores on her already overworked husband, fine. They can suffer together.

If she wants to sit on the couch and binge watch TV and movies for 8 hours straight everyday in a windowless room, fine. She can let her brain rot and it’s not my business.

If she wants to make necklaces and clothes that she shows nobody but my fiancé and which sit in an already bursting closet because she doesn’t go anywhere, fine. It’s her husband’s money and his side of the closet thats bursting with her shit, and he doesn’t care.

If she wants to avoid all social contact with people and old friends in a discord because she didn’t get a joke 1 time and so “the server just isn’t for her,” fine. She can sit alone in her windowless room and forget how to talk like a normal human being, that's her prerogative.

I’m doing really well this year and she continues to flounder in her own pity. She used to be a great friend, I still lament our dead relationship where we would go to the store together and have really good long talks, back when she used to say she really admired and looked up to me.

And I know this all started when her father passed away nearly two years ago, but does that make her treatment of us any better? Does that make her continued disregard for her future self any healthier? Grief can really destroy a person. But no matter how much empathy or patience we’ve given her she continues to be this stubborn mass of nothingness. Either blending into the couch or exploding when push comes to shove because she’s gotten so out of practice with the world that she can barely function. But we are not therapists, and being her friend has also not helped her, so there’s nothing to do but prioritize ourselves now. We can’t stop our own lives for hers, even if we care… we cannot be doormats.

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miscelunaaa · 3 years ago

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spin cycle 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: drabble series, slow burn, idiots to lovers, fluff, lil bit of angst, eventual smut

summary: This random guy has started doing laundry at your favorite laundromat each week (at the same time as you, no less!) and to be honest, it’s going to be a problem. You’re just not sure how yet.

rating: 18+ for eventual smut

word count: less than 500

warnings: Swearing. Grocery shopping. Controversial opinions about traditional American Thanksgiving foods. Roomie denying her feelings for Namjoon. Mild holiday-induced stress.

notes: Nope I am definitely not using Roomie as a mouthpiece for my opinions on Thanksgiving nOPE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??

notes 2: Hi! I’ve been really weirdly active for the past several days and am now exhausted 😅 So!! I might be taking a posting break next week so I can just log out for a couple days and focus on myself. I’ve got some mild personal stuff happening that needs my attention. Nothing to be concerned about, I just think I need a break, if I can make myself take it. I need to finish up my Ask My Muse prompts, and just do a lil bit of house keeping before all that though, so stay tuned!

series masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

previous | next

You’re walking through the grocery store. It’s Monday evening. The appointed holiday is a mere three days away, and as it approaches, Roomie is becoming more and more neurotic. You’re not always present for the weekly grocery run, but she insisted on bringing you to this one for some reason. She probably needs the emotional support, judging by how frazzled she seems.

It appears that she’s fostering some serious feelings for her FWB and now that you’ve noticed, you can’t unsee it. Every detail she’s planning for the Thanksgiving feast drips with the desire to impress him in some way. Since—shit, what’s his name again? Joon? Namjoon??—is coming over, she’s pulling out all of the stops. Honestly, you’re in awe. Roomie’s usually stone cold with the men she brings home, kicking them to the curb the moment they (or she) start feeling attached.

He seems like a nice guy, though you’ve only spoken maybe ten words to him. To be honest, it’s kind of cute to watch her squirm a little about a man for once. It’s helping you move past your own boy weirdness. You’re already dreading the next time you see Jungkook.

“Okay, all of these chickens are way too big. Why are they all so fucking big??”

“How big is way too big? And—wait—chicken? If you want to impress him—”

“I’m not trying to impress him.”

“Right. Chicken though? Isn’t turkey better? I know we did chicken last year but …”

Roomie sighs in exasperation as she picks a bird and gently places it in your cart. She starts to walk away and you push the cart after her. “My sweet, innocent, obviously non-cooking person, it is not. A nice chicken is the superior bird. I’m not breaking down a turkey. I’ve never done it. I’m not going to risk a meal for a holiday by cooking something I’ve never cooked before.”

You find yourself nodding. This all makes sense. The two of you have always kept Thanksgiving simple. It’s your holiday together, and neither of you cared to get too fancy before.

“And for this holiday of dubious origin, I like bucking tradition. Subverting the norms.”

“Hey, I think Brussels sprouts are on sale. Do we want them this year?”

“Yes. Can’t subvert all norms. What kind of pie do we want?”

“Apple. Does Namjoon know you’re anti-traditional Thanksgiving food?”

Normally she wanders around the grocery store with careless abandon and you just follow her with the cart, letting her enjoy the feeling of being unencumbered. Normally she’s efficient, but when planning a meal like this, you think she probably thrives with the freedom. Your question, however, stops her in her tracks.

“What makes you think I care about what Namjoon thinks about my menu choices?” Her tone is sweet to the point of acidic.

You drop the subject, but not without shooting her a knowing smirk. She makes a face back, but it doesn’t quite hide her shy smile.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 3.28.2022. updated 4.2.2022 with front matter fixes.

#jungkook fanfic #jeon Jungkook x reader #jeon Jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #Jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk fic #eventual smut #miscelunaaa #possumswrite #the password is ::melon:: come drop it in my inbox to request a drabble #fic:sc #break whomst lmao

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rainbowchibbit · 3 years ago

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BlAaaaahhhhhhhgh

Hello. It has been. An incredibly rough and traumatic and stressful week for me and I wasn’t even gonna make a post about it but it’ll probably delay some page(s) unless I sit down and focus (which I might!! Who knows)

And I know y’all are so sweet and wouldn’t have even worried about it or said anything but I think I mostly just needed a reason to talk about it? Because how do you just bring up the mess that the last week (actually last two weeks I guess) has been just “oh by the way!” But I guess that is kind of what I’m doing

So oh by the way, if I’m not altogether here brain-wise it’s because of details under the cut also tw: animal death

Monday the 14th: our dog suddenly started acting strange, and then suddenly couldn’t walk, declined rapidly, a trip to the regular vet and then the emergency vet and many tests and $2k later find out he’s got internal bleeding in a place they weren’t even sure they could operate on.

The rest of that week was taking care of this hobbly old man dog who had decided he was fine

Friday the 18th: our dog died.

Saturday the 19th: ??????????? I don’t remember

Sunday the 20th: my dad left on like a week long trip to pick up and drive home an RV (he asked if he should cancel his trip I told him no) so we were staying at my dad’s house because I needed to take my brother to school, etc

Monday the 21st: take my brother to school, come home and try and take care of HIS dog who has had neurological problems for over a year and now can’t even stand up straight, he declined rapidly too

Tuesday the 22nd: had to put down my brother’s dog which was probably even more traumatic than our dog dying at home

Wednesday the 23rd: kept my brother home from school and let him play video games at our place while my roomie and I took turns sleeping for 12 hours to try and recover

Thursday the 24th: took my brother to school, went back to my dad’s house and basically slept until I had to go pick him up from school, then had to drive and take roomie to an appointment because her car is at the shop, didn’t get back to dad’s house until late

Friday the 25th: took my brother to school, finally had a vague amount of energy to accomplish things then my dad came home yaaaay!! It’s so nice to have the adultier adult home anyway I finally got to go home and I slept for like another 12 hours.

Today is Saturday the 26th and I want to draw but I am still rather out of it because I’ve been in crisis/mom friend mode for the last two weeks and I’m exhausted physically mentally and emotionally but doing a lot better? Just. So tired and coming out of crisis mode.

I just thought. You guys should know?? What’s been going on???? Anyway you all are the best ilu

#bekah txt #long post #personal #bleeeeegghhhhhhhhhh #I’m doing a lot better but man these last two weeks have been like a terrible fever dream #animal death #tw animal death

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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A Year Gone By | dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

happy birthday @nsfwsebbie!!

it was supposed to be a surprise but then I couldn’t stop myself from telling you I was writing something, I managed to keep most of it under wraps though! I hope the suspense pays off.

idk if it’s weird that i made it a doctor reader when you’re not a doctor but listen...half the fun of reader insert is getting to vicariously live through a cool career right?? the other half of the fun is the obvious thing. and it seemed a little creepy if i made the reader exactly like you but if you want it to be more accurate i will totally write you something with actual you in it lol

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy it and most of all I hope you have a lovely, relaxing, fun birthday. and i hope it makes you h word lmao. ily darling <3

warnings: noncon, dubcon, stalking/kidnapping, ddlg, loss of virginity, bondage, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, d/s, pet play, degradation, painful sex/pain kink, cockwarming, breeding, somnophilia (slightly), spitting, pregnancy mention, breeding kink, mention of drugging... I think that’s everything.

word count: just over 15.5k (YIIIIKES my bad)

Bucky always looked forward to appointments with you. It wasn’t just because he had a crush on you, honest; you really were the best doctor he ever had. Then again, between chain-smoking Brooklyn doctors who handed out morphine like candy and cruel Nazi or Soviet scientists, you weren’t competing with anybody too incredible.

“It’s not so bad,” he bluffed, but he couldn’t hide the wince when you touched his bruise.

“You’re not a very good liar, Sergeant,” you told him with a smile. God, he loved when you called him that. He hoped his body wouldn’t react to it in any uncomfortably obvious ways. “Honestly, I’m a little worried about the bones. I want to do an X-ray, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” he shrugged, “but you’re probably worrying too much.”

“You plan to walk off a compound fracture?” you scoffed.

“Bet I could, if you kiss it to make it better,” he smiled. He was expecting you to giggle a little at the casual flirtation, which you did, but he was surprised when you bit your lip at the end of it. That made it impossible to stop his cock from getting a bit interested, but thankfully it was still easy enough to hide. Clearly his casual flirting was starting to get to you, and it made him especially impatient but he tried to stay calm.

“I’m a good doctor, but I’m not that good. A prescription will do more for you,” you replied as you wrote something in his chart-- presumably that he needed to go down the hall for some x-ray work.

“If you say so.”

“Anything else bothering you?” you asked him.

“Oh, no, I won’t waste your time,” he dismissed.

“I’m getting paid, don’t worry,” you laughed. “I don’t have any more appointments until after lunch. Is there anything else going on?”

He shifted a little, the paper on the examination table crinkling as he did it. “Um… it’s nothing, I just--” he glanced up at you but then looked away again, still embarrassed to admit it-- “I’ve had a little trouble sleeping…”

“Nightmares?” you pressed. “Or general insomnia?”

“Um, nightmares,” he finally admitted, “not as bad as normal. The meds helped. Just… I still get them sometimes.”

“How many nights a week would you guess?” you asked. But you didn’t look to his chart like it was a quiz or something, you kept looking at him with patience and compassion. That was what really made his heart melt.

“Probably 2 or 3.”

“So we’re down from 6 to 7,” you remembered from what he’d said before you’d given him the medication he was on now, “that’s good. That’s progress. But, maybe we need to up your dosage if you haven’t seen better results after 4 weeks. You haven’t missed any doses, have you?”

He tried to fight his embarrassed smirk but it was too late.

“Bucky!” you scolded playfully. “I can’t up your dosage until you’re actually being consistent on the amount you already have, okay? I know it can be easy to forget but you have to stay on it. Set a timer on your phone or something if you need to.”

He nodded, but the problem wasn’t forgetting to take them as much as it was being ashamed that he needed them at all. But he’d stay on them if it made you happy.

“Anything else? Headache, twisted ankle, burns when you pee?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, I think that’s everything.”

“Great, then I’ll let you get to your newly-booked X-ray appointment.” You handed him a sheet of paper for him to take to the X-ray office which informed the nurses there what angles you wanted on his ribs. “Just know that you can call me if you need anything, alright?”

He took the slip of paper but suddenly couldn’t respond, too lost in looking at you and wondering if you’d felt that same jolt of electricity when his hand brushed yours.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“You take care of so many people,” Bucky pondered aloud, “I just wonder if someone takes care of you.”

He could tell by your face that you didn’t like the way his tone shifted, but he refused to backpedal. Just this once, he wanted to see you squirm a little bit.

“Wanna lollipop?” you asked him nervously as you handed him the plastic-wrapped red sucker in offering, but he waved it away.

He spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about how you would look with the cherry lollipop in your mouth: the way it would push your cheek out from the inside, stain your lips and tongue bright red, make your mouth taste like pure sugar.

Of all the things he’d imagined before, that was the one that made him realize it couldn’t just be a fantasy anymore. Thankfully, he hadn’t just been thinking of all the filthy things he wanted to do to you; he’d also been coming up with a plan.

The first thing you perceived when you woke up was the smell. It didn’t smell like your room. Such a simple difference, one you hadn’t even realized you would notice, but one that stood out instantly.

You opened your eyes and instantly spun your head around when you saw the grey cement room you were in. The bed underneath you creaked, unlike your bed, and you looked down at it as if you somehow expected to be in an unknown room but still be in your own bed.

It was then that you realized you were restrained with, of all things, satiny pink rope which pulled each of your limbs to the nearest bedpost. There was enough slack that you could wiggle around some, but it wasn’t exactly roomy either. Your heart raced as you pondered who could have possibly done this, and why.

You startled when you heard the door open, but relaxed when the menacing form suddenly struck you as familiar.

“Bucky,” you sighed with relief, “oh thank god you’re here-- quick, help untie me.”

As soon as you said it, though, you realized something wasn’t right. He didn’t look concerned at all, or confused. And that should be a good thing because it meant he had answers, except that you were suddenly realizing this was more complex than you were prepared for.

“Bucky… where are we?” you asked him, quieter, as you realized that he was not going to untie you immediately. Even still you were coming to terms with the possibility that it wasn’t really a matter of where we were and where, specifically, you were.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered simply, stepping closer.

You didn’t exactly believe that.

“Please, help untie me,” you requested again.

“I will,” he assured, “but I want to explain something first.”

Your heart sank straight through your stomach. You didn’t understand what was going on quite yet, but you were getting the gist enough to know that this was really fucking bad.

“Bucky,” you pleaded as he sat down beside you on the bed, “please let me go.” You felt very aware of how thin your pajama set was, how if he tried hard enough he could see your nipples hardening underneath your top for no apparent reason.

“Don’t get upset,” he soothed, “everything’s fine. I’m not going to hurt you-- nobody will anymore. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna take care of you.”

Your eyes burned with tears you couldn’t fight anymore. “Don’t do this,” you begged, “I’m your friend-- we’re friends, remember?”

“Of course I know that,” he sighed, “but that’s not enough. Couldn’t you tell I’d fallen in love with you?”

You shook your head, trying to process everything you were hearing. “This is insane. This is not what you do when you have feelings for somebody, Bucky.”

“What, you’re saying I should’ve just asked you out?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes-- because you’re my patient--”

“See? That’s what the ropes are for!” he smiled, like he was actually proud of his problem-solving skills. “You would’ve said yes if you could, I know. But you couldn’t. And now you don’t have to.”

You resented that he was right, that you would’ve dated him in a heartbeat if it wasn’t an ethical violation. You got the sense there were going to be even more severe ethical violations in your future, though.

You continued to beg him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears as he reached under the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts and pulled them down slowly. He gasped when he saw your pussy and you wished you could just disappear, turn invisible or, best of all, teleport out of here; anything to avoid this humiliation.

“Baby, you’re wet,” he observed. You weren’t sure if the first or second half of the sentence made you more uncomfortable, but either way, you couldn’t stop the shivers from dancing up your spine. “This all for me? Do you like being tied up?”

You refused to answer, looking to the side as if the concrete wall was suddenly fascinating to you, but he grabbed your jaw and turned you to look at him.

“I know you don’t know all the rules yet, but here’s the first one, and maybe the most important: answer me when I speak to you.”

It was cold but not quite threatening; still scared you senseless, though. You nodded.

“Do you like being tied up?” he repeated.

“N-no,” you answered.

“Answer honestly,” he specified.

You had, but you realized it was going to be safer to do what he wanted, so you cleared your throat and spoke again.

“Yes,” you whispered, “I like… being tied up.”

“That’s it?” he pressed. “It’s not me being here, is it? You never got wet when you saw me in appointments?”

This was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated. It seemed like there was no right answer.

“Didja ever get wet for somebody else? It was Steve, wasn’t it?”

“No!” you instinctively answered. “Um, I like Steve. But just as a friend.”

“Aw,” he smiled, “I knew you were the loyal type. Remember just a minute ago when you were begging me to stop cause you were my friend? I think you were lying then too, doll. You didn’t want to be just friends with me.”

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it,” you grimaced. “I’m getting irritated.”

You yelped when he slapped the inside of your thigh, trying to pull away but only making it easier for him to dip under your leg so that he was between them, sitting back on the bed in front of you.

“Respect gets you a long way with me,” he promised, pulling a knife from a strap on his thigh and using it to quickly cut off the shorts. “Sass does not.”

You winced as he slipped a finger into you-- metal, and it was cold, too. Soothed the burn a bit, at least.

“Oh god,” he sighed, “just one finger and it barely fits…” You watched realization pass over his face as his gaze moved to your eyes. “Baby, are you a virgin?”

You closed your eyes because you knew they would reveal the truth. In all honesty it was probably better that he knew so there was at least some chance of him going easy on you, and yet you were still embarrassed for him to find out.

“Oh, you’re going to spoil me,” he grinned. “You really are too good to be true.”

A second finger pushed into you and a bite to the lip suppressed your moan.

“I’ll warm you up first, don’t worry,” he cooed. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Then why did you tie me up?”

“That’s for your safety, baby. I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” he clarified.

A third finger, immediately after you had adjusted to the second. You had never had so much inside you before and it made you feel a bit dizzy. His thumb grazed over your clit and you nearly jumped right off the bed as your hips bucked suddenly-- since when were you so sensitive?!

“Oh, poor little baby, you need it so bad,” he faux-pouted. You couldn’t tell if it was a mockery or genuine concern. “You’ll get it angel, don’t worry. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”

That word made you feel a little sick. No wonder he needed to kidnap girls to get his rocks off, clearly this was the kind of stuff a normal date wouldn’t agree to.

Then again, it was Bucky Barnes. He could probably get any girl he wanted, even if he had some weird tastes. You still didn’t understand why it had to be you, specifically.

His thumb stayed on your clit, the pressure moving from teasing to firm to nearly too much. You tried to angle your hips away but the ropes stopped you (of course), and you were forced to take every sensation he gave you.

“You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, just let go,” he encouraged. “I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

“Maybe I’m just naturally quiet,” you bluffed, but even just those few words were strained, and surrounded by panting as you failed to catch your breath.

“Oh, we both know that’s not true. I’ve heard you when you thought you were alone, doll.”

You knew what he must have meant, but it still made you whimper when he leaned in to whisper in your ear: “I heard you touching yourself.”

Your face was burning and you were sure you’d never blushed so hard in your life. You couldn’t be sure how much he’d heard, but just the way he smiled down at you made you sure he must have heard the times that his name passed your lips as you reached your peak.

Of course he couldn’t just let you stew in that, he had to mock you even further.

“Oh Bucky,” he recalled, raising the pitch of his voice a little, “please let me come, I’m so close, please…”

“Stop,” you begged, tears sliding down your temples. The fingers twisted inside you as both of you groaned.

“Yeah, it’s not a very good impression,” he sighed, “it’ll sound better when you do it. Don’t you wanna moan for me again?”

“You stalked me,” you realized aloud, “you spied on me at night, you kidnapped me--”

“And now we’re both getting what we want. I know you wished it was my fingers instead of yours. Doesn’t it feel good baby? Admit it. Tell me it feels good.”

You were determined to resist until he pulled his fingers out and used the metal hand to slap your pussy, both of you gasping at the wet noise it made. He did it again and your hips bucked wildly even as you were trying with everything in you not to react. One more and you finally moaned, the pain brief but strong while the pleasure never seemed to lessen.

“Just be honest,” he demanded, “I know you love it. I just need you to say it.”

One more spank and you were finally willing to cut your losses. “It feels good!” you exclaimed. You cried out when he hit you again, not having seen it coming at all since you’d done as he asked. “Say it again.”

“It feels good, Bucky, your fingers feel good,” you whimpered.

He finally seemed to calm down, giving you an oddly friendly smile. “Was that so hard?”

You shook your head, just trying to appreciate the stillness while you could.

“One little thing though: you don’t call me Bucky anymore. My friends call me Bucky; you’re so much more special than that. You’re my perfect little angel, and you call me Daddy.”

You saw it coming, but it didn’t make it any less awful. You squirmed a bit as he pushed up your top, biting his lip when he got a glimpse of your breasts.

“Oh, when did these get hard, huh?” he smiled as he tweaked your nipples between his fingers.

“It’s… cold in here,” you explained uncomfortably.

“Uh huh,” he pretended to believe you. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to warm you up.”

He let go of your tits so he could pull back and start undoing his belt; you swallowed dryly, not wanting to watch but unable to look away.

Of course he was big. It explained his personality, and you’d had your suspicions (and/or fantasies), but now all it did was scare you.

“Will it hurt?” you asked weakly. He smiled as he pulled off his shirt from behind his neck, tossing it aside.

“No baby, I stretched you with my fingers so you can take me. Might be a little bit of an adjustment at first, but we’ll go slow, okay?”

You couldn’t decide if it was sweet or patronizing. A little of both, perhaps.

He leaned over you, resting one hand beside your head as the other guided his cock to rub through your folds. You struggled again, barely able to process that this was actually going to happen, that you were going to lose your virginity tied up in some creepy sex dungeon to an obsessive patient who demanded you call him ‘Daddy.’ This wasn’t exactly the situation you had been saving it for.

“Ready for me, baby? Want me to make you mine?” he asked with a look of excitement, even vulnerability. Your body craved more after he’d left you dangling on the edge from his fingering, but your brain was thankfully still functioning properly.

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “you can stop now, and I won’t tell anyone, and--”

“Baby, don’t talk like that,” he frowned. “This is it, okay? Us. Just us. Nobody else to get in the way. You’re not gonna tell anyone ‘cause there’s no one to tell.”

“You can’t,” you denied, “I have a life-- people who care about me, who are going to notice that I’m gone--”

“No, babygirl, stop-- you’re not listening to me,” he growled. “Stop fighting. You’re mine. You’re finally where you belong.”

“This is crazy,” you spat, “you’re crazy!”

“Baby…” he looked dejected, crestfallen. “You’re the only one who’s ever helped me feel normal again. If I’m crazy it’s only because I love you so much; I need you, doll.”

“You need intensive psychiatric care!”

Sadness shifted to anger as he sat back and stuffed his cock back into his trousers, even though it barely fit now that it was fully hard and leaking from the tip.

“I realize now I’ve given you more than you can handle. I knew you liked me back so I figured you would understand a little sooner but… I should’ve known you need more time before you really admit to yourself that you need someone to take care of you.”

Your relief shifted to fear when he stood back up off the bed and stepped away.

“Wait, don’t leave me here,” you squeaked, “untie me, please.”

Instead he knelt down and pulled a box out from under the bed. You couldn’t see what was inside when he opened it, but he seemed to find what he was looking for when he pulled out a vibrator and shut the lid. It was thin and a little curved, so when he roughly shoved it into you it hit right on your g-spot. You tried to squirm away but he held your hips down and turned it on to a setting that strobed the vibrations, teasing your spot but never giving you enough to get very far.

“I’ll come back when I think you’ve learned your lesson,” he informed you quickly as he started to leave the room.

“Bucky-- Bucky wait!” you called after him. “There’s no food or water you can’t leave me here wait don’t go BUCKY!”

But he was long gone. The door slammed behind him and echoed around the room; only when the sound was completely dead were you sure that he wasn’t coming back any time soon.

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity of you wiggling against the ropes, trying to either knock the vibrator out of you somehow or get it to move enough that you could at least come and feel some relief. Trying to push it out with your muscles was useless since the curved shape kept it inside of you, and you couldn’t arch your back enough to press it into the bed-- and if you could, you weren’t sure what good that would do.

Every once in a while the vibration would echo through your clit and it made your eyes water. You sobbed and bit your lip, hoping he would come back soon.

It was at least twice as long before he did, and at that point your voice had gone hoarse from calling out to him. You cried out for Bucky at least a hundred times and got nothing; but when you called for ‘Daddy’ just once, he suddenly appeared.

Somehow his return didn’t bring much relief, because you weren’t exactly safe with him around… but at least you weren’t alone.

He reached between your legs and turned the vibrator off, though he left it inside of you. You took a deep breath and appreciated the stillness, though your body panged with hunger from so much pleasure with no release.

“I hated doing that to you,” he breathed deeply as he sat beside you on the bed, “but it had to be done. You were behaving so poorly. I’ve gone easy on you up until now but I can’t tolerate any more rebelliousness, alright?”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his disappointment sink over you.

When he pulled out the vibrator, the tip of it grazed over your abused and sensitive g-spot and you bit back a groan. He set it aside and admired the mess you’d made; you couldn’t see it, of course, but you could tell that there was a wet patch of arousal beneath you on the sheets.

“Your body is ready for me, but I’m not sure your mind is right yet,” he explained, steely gaze finally meeting yours. “Are you going to be good, little girl?”

You were too exhausted to notice the nickname, or even to speak your reply. You just nodded again, watching him as he started unlacing his boots and slipped them off, then took his socks, trousers, and underwear off along with them.

Shit, you’d nearly forgotten how big he was. You swallowed with a dry throat and closed your eyes, just hoping it would be over with quickly.

“Open your eyes babygirl, I wanna look at you,” he murmured, running a finger across your cheek. You reluctantly obeyed and saw him hovering above you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and it felt so wrong, so empty and peculiar. It was a weak facsimile of what a kiss was supposed to be like. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers into your hair, and it had all the trappings of the kind of kiss you’d share as a goodbye after a first or second date, but without any of the stuff that mattered like positive feelings or consent or not being in a creepy cement sex dungeon-- or whatever this was supposed to be.

He pulled away and looked down at you again, anger just starting to brew in his eyes. “Kiss me back,” he demanded. This time when he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue slid between them and it made you feel a little sick but you did your best to reciprocate. You found yourself trying to reach up to put your hands on his hair or neck but of course, the ropes made it impossible.

You felt his cock pressing between your thighs, rubbing up and down slowly, and your heart began to race. One hand slid between your bodies to guide his cock towards your entrance and he said something but you couldn’t hear it because your ears were ringing.

As soon as he pushed into you, your body jolted, trying to squirm away, but he just kept going, sliding into you in one long stroke.

Physically, it wasn’t painful. The vibrator had helped relax your walls, even numbed them a little bit. And yet, even without pain it was so much. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, like you were so full you couldn’t even breathe.

When he was fully seated inside you, Bucky moaned deeply, kissing your neck and mumbling something about how perfect you were. But all you could focus on was his cock pulling back only to slam home again.

“Fuck!” you yelped. You had no idea anything could be so deep inside you.

“Watch your language, angel,” he purred, biting at your earlobe. “You promised to be good, remember?”

The hand that had been gripping your thigh suddenly moved to rub your clit and you choked on a moan.

“It’s okay, it’s supposed to feel good,” he encouraged. “It’s okay to come, baby. I know how bad you wanna come for me.”

You were embarrassingly close as he had observed, a side effect of having been left on the edge for so long. You could feel your walls rippling around him, and you wondered if he could feel it, too. Every thrust stroked parts of you that you hadn’t even realized existed, and when he pushed as deep as he could into you, the tip of his cock hit something so sensitive that you genuinely couldn’t tell if it was painful or pleasurable.

“Are you close? I don’t know how much longer I can last, you’re so tight,” he groaned. “Fuck, you want me to fill you up don’t you? Wanna be full of Daddy’s cum?”

Before you could even consider ignoring his question, he wrapped his left hand around your neck.

“Yes, Daddy,” you croaked through the weight on your windpipe, “fill me up, please.”

Talking like that made your heart twist with shame but somehow pushed you even closer to your peak. You knew he could tell that you were turned on by it from the way your muscles tightened around him.

“I will baby, I promise,” he smiled. “Do you wanna beg to come, like you did when you were by yourself?”

You moaned because it was like a fantasy come true, in a monkey’s paw sort of way. This is what you had wanted, right? Just… in a way completely different from how it was turning out?

“Daddy, please,” you answered, so quiet and heavy with embarrassment that it was barely above a whisper, “please let me come.”

“Oh fuck,” he responded hoarsely as his thrusts came faster, more ragged. “Come, princess. I wantcha to scream for me.”

As you started to fall over the edge, you felt like you had lost control over your body; your arms and legs tugged at the ropes as jolts of pleasure coursed through them, and your mouth was spilling moans and whimpers and even his name. His real name, specifically, though he thankfully didn’t seem to mind. He kissed you again as he came, moaning into your lips and still inside you.

You felt cold and sticky and humiliated as he sat up and pulled out, admiring the way your hole leaked out his seed and flexed involuntarily around nothing.

“Oh look at you,” he praised, “my perfect little girl. You’re even more amazing than I dreamed, doll.”

You tried not to listen or watch him as he got off the bed, coming back with boxers on and a damp washcloth to clean you.

“I’m gonna untie you now, okay? Promise you won’t kick me or anything?”

You quickly nodded, willing to promise anything if it meant getting untied. “You’ll just do more harm to you than to me if you try anything, angel,” he reminded you quickly as he started work on your right ankle. The ropes were silky so they hadn’t been rubbing your skin too raw, but there was still soreness from the tight knots. You were a bit surprised when he gave your ankle and foot a brief massage once he was done untying the rope, and did the same to your other foot, and then your wrists and hands. It helped a lot with getting the blood flow back to normal, and you almost considered thanking him but that would’ve been ridiculous. ‘Hey, thanks for the foot massage, next time don’t tie me up and rape me first but, otherwise 10/10.’

Bucky was so impressed with the progress you’d made in a week. Only two escape attempts and you’d taken your punishment quite well both times. He had expected a rocky start, he’d understood what he was getting himself into, so none of it really came as a surprise. You’d managed to get a good crack at his nose once, kicking him straight between the eyes before making a run for it. Yes, it hurt like a bitch and took a few days to heal, but it had actually been a blessing in disguise; that day you’d made it out the front door and realized that you were in the middle of nowhere. When he’d caught up to you, you were standing barefoot and half-naked in the snow, not even running anymore because, apparently, you’d realized there was nowhere to run to.

“I built this place for us, for you,” he explained. “Somewhere far away, all to ourselves. Nobody for miles.”

“How many miles?”

He chuckled a bit to himself. “Baby, it’s a really big number. You’re too little to understand.”

Normally you resisted that sort of talk but this time it shut you up. Hopefully you were beginning to properly realize that this was your new life.

“Are we in New York?” you asked, quieter.

“I’m not sure if I should tell you that yet. I don’t want you to get any complicated ideas in that pretty little head,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for emphasis before leaving you behind to start cooking dinner.

“I’m not eating with these,” you announced firmly as he set your place at the table with a set of pink, rubber-coated utensils.

“It’s too messy to eat with your hands,” he frowned.

“Do you honestly not realize that I want to eat with normal utensils? Or are you just trying to drive me insane?”

Bucky set your plate down a little too firmly, making you and the food on top jump. “Don’t talk back to me.”

“I just… it’ll take me forever to finish an adult-sized portion of food with child-sized utensils.”

“Then maybe you’re not ready for an adult-sized portion,” he threatened. That seemed to get your attention, but you stayed quiet. “Maybe you’re not hungry at all?”

“I’m hungry,” you denied. “Please, I want to eat.”

“And I want to eat with you. But this roundabout is getting on my last nerve, doll. Now are you gonna be good and eat your dinner?”

“...yes, Daddy,” you sighed. He smiled and sat down across from you. You were learning. Slowly, but surely.

Bath time was always a fight, though. You still had some ridiculous notions about ‘privacy’ and ‘autonomy’ and crap like that, and it meant that you were likely to act up and refuse to be washed.

“I can do it myself!”

“But you don’t have to, don’t you see?”

“I want to.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around what you want, angel.”

“Let me guess: it revolves around what you want?” “No,” Bucky shook his head and tried to summon some more patience, “I have to take care of you. Sometimes that means doing things you don’t like, because I know what’s best for you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled as you turned away, and that really broke his heart. He knew you didn’t really mean it, but it still hurt.

“Baby… don’t say that,” he pleaded as he turned your face to him. “It hurts Daddy’s feelings when you say things like that.”

“Yes, that was the idea,” you hissed. “I just want to take a shower, alone.”

“Any chance you had at that is long gone,” he grimaced. “What you’re getting is a bath, with me, and if you quit this attitude now you might still be able to avoid getting a spanking as well, do you understand?”

Your shoulders slumped as you nodded. He knew your poor little bottom was still sore from the last spanking, and as he helped you undress for the bath, he could still see a few welts along the skin. He kissed them quickly, a reminder to both of you what he was capable of, before helping you into the water and slipping in behind you. It was spacious, so there was ample room for the two of you, but he still held you close and pressed your back into his chest.

He had a lot of ideas about what you two could do in this bath, but he knew that now was not the time. Still, he let his mind wander and smiled to himself when you gasped from his erection pressing into your thigh.

He helped you wash your hair, and for that moment where your head was nearly submerged and he was using his fingers to massage out the shampoo, you looked so peaceful. He normally only got to appreciate this look on your face as you slept, but you were almost smiling this time, and it made his heart sing. A week of tantrums was worth it for just a few quiet moments like this.

“I’m gonna let you finish up on your own, okay? I trust you not to do anything dangerous…” he decided as he stepped out.

“Really?” your face instantly lit up. Sure, you’re never supposed to leave them alone in the bath, but he was feeling extra generous and he sympathized with your desire for control. Freedom could be good for you, in moderation.

“Of course.”

“T-thank you, Daddy,” you awkwardly responded.

He dried off and dressed, and waited nearby in the living room, listening to you drain the bathwater and start a shower.

You emerged wrapped in a towel and looking slightly lost.

"Honey, where are your clothes?" he asked you with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you informed him. Oh, right. You were being resistant to wearing the clothes he had picked out for you. Apparently you found the overwhelming presence of baby pink to be tacky, and you hated that everything was cute and tiny… he couldn't understand seeing something cute and tiny and not liking it. After all, you were the most adorable thing he'd laid eyes on and it made it impossible not to like you. You just needed clothes to match.

“I have clothes laid out for you,” he explained.

“I’d rather be naked than wear what you pick for me,” you snarled.

“Hey, I wouldn’t complain,” he shrugged, trying to suppress his frustration. “Don’t come bitchin’ to me when you’re cold, though.”

You sat next to him on the couch, defiantly naked and confidently ignoring him. He admired your stubbornness, or at least he found it amusing.

“Do you wanna watch a movie now?” he asked, but he knew you had figured out that this was a mandatory activity.

“Don’t see any reason to wait,” you smiled sarcastically.

Of course, when he got up to show you some DVDs so you could pick what you wanted (Wall-E; he knew you didn’t actually want to watch that since your typical fare was horror and action movies, but it was your favorite of the options), he quickly turned down the thermostat. Perhaps a comfortable 55 Fahrenheit would help you remember why it’s important to take what Daddy gives you.

He hadn’t seen Wall-E before but he found it oddly relatable. A robot, built for someone else’s purpose, abandoned in a filthy, empty world… it brought back some old feelings that he managed to press back down.

Regardless, he was distracted from it when he could literally feel you shivering from across the couch.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked presumptuously.

“No,” you denied, barely managing to suppress the chattering of your teeth.

“Do you want the clothes?”

“Shut up.”

He just laughed a little to himself, ignoring your rude language and turning back to the TV.

It did kill him a bit to have to pretend he didn’t care when you were obviously uncomfortable, but you would’ve been even more irritated with him if he’d held you down and forced you to put the outfit on.

This fucker was smart, you’d give him that. Or maybe it was just that you were stupid. Not stupid, really, but having no sense of self-preservation. Why had you chosen this hill to die on? You couldn’t even remember why you’d put up a fight at all. You were so cold that you couldn’t even understand what could’ve ever compelled you to reject an offer of clothes. Didn’t help that you knew he was so close, that if you cuddled up to him you would be warm, but that it would mean the loss of your last shred of dignity.

Only a week and you were starting to completely lose your sense of yourself. You searched within and couldn’t find any of the fight you’d had so many times before. You remembered that time you kicked him right in the face, and where you once found pride at the memory, you found guilt. You felt guilty for hurting him, after everything he’d done to you-- why?

“B-bucky…” you finally relented not even an hour into the movie, stammering from the force of your shivers.

“Hm?”

“I want… I want the c-clothes.”

He smiled a little, in an insulting way. “Ask nicely, doll.”

“P-please, Daddy,” you whimpered.

He came back with the clothes in hand, but when you reached out for them, he shook his head and motioned for you to stand up. You sighed but obeyed, your entire body shaking with violent shivers as your bare feet hit the cool concrete floor.

He knelt down, holding the lace panties open for you as you shyly stepped into them. He pulled them up to your hips and let the elastic slap your skin a little as he let go, making you jump. He did the same with the fuzzy pink pyjama pants, running his hands over soft fabric for just a second as he stood up, helping you into the loose grey sweatshirt. It was the least feminine thing he’d ever let you wear, noticeably absent in anything pink or fuzzy or girly or adorned with bows. You only realized as it slipped over your head that it was his, because once you plunged into darkness inside of it, you were overwhelmed with the smell of him. You wouldn’t have known that you could recognize his smell, but now that you were in it, it was undeniable.

You were almost surprised to see him when your head popped through the neckline, somehow. It’s not as if you had forgotten he was there in the three seconds you couldn’t see him, just that he looked so different to you now. He had this stoic, nearly stern look on his face as he helped you get your hands through the sleeves, and the way he caressed your fingers as they emerged from the cotton was so upsettingly tender.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, and he looked back at your face.

“Is this better? Are you warmer?”

“My feet…” you realized, looking down at them.

“I’ll get you some socks, baby,” he nodded, dashing away for a moment. You felt colder with him gone. It couldn’t be loneliness, could it? Even knowing he’d only be gone less than a minute, you were unduly anxious for his return.

He came back and held your feet up by the ankle one at a time as he rolled pink fuzzy socks-- with lace at the ankle, of course-- over your feet. You wiggled your toes into them, finally feeling like you’d be able to get warm again.

“Let’s finish the movie, okay?” he suggested, rubbing his hands on your arms. You nodded, allowing him to guide you back to the couch and finding yourself cuddling into his side as he laid an arm over your shoulders.

You barely managed to pay attention as you felt his hand slip lower, resting on your waist. Then your hip, then your thigh.

Something about the way the lace panties rubbed against your pussy made you feel so oddly sensitive, and even the inside of his sweatshirt was just rough enough to make your nipples react every time you adjusted your position.

You figured he realized your condition pretty quickly, but he didn’t react until a moan, so quiet that you were sure he wouldn’t hear it, passed your lips.

“Everything alright, doll?” he asked, failing to hide the fact that he clearly knew the answer.

You didn’t respond, distracted by his other hand reaching over and stroking your thigh. You were caged in his embrace now, and your heart raced in a way that was oddly lacking in fear.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he demanded, watching your nervous reaction to his intensity.

“Daddy I… I feel tingly,” you murmured, feeling yourself blush.

“Where, baby?”

“D-down there,” you admitted as you forced your eyes shut, too embarrassed to look him in the face as you said it.

“You need Daddy’s help?”

“Please,” you whispered, hating yourself a little for needing him but too desperate to really care.

In one motion he’d already turned the TV off, pulled you onto his lap, and started kissing where the baggy neckline of the sweatshirt exposed your collarbone.

You were rubbing yourself on his thigh and you didn’t even know how to stop. It felt so good. It made your skin warm up even faster as you recovered from the cold.

He slipped his right hand into your pants as the other pulled you closer until your face was buried in his neck. If there was anything worth appreciating about Bucky, it was how good he was with his fingers. He knew your body better than you did at this point-- but then again, he had spent so much time exploring it in one week that he was probably competing with you already in terms of practice time.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as his fingers moved faster and firmer, making your hips jerk forward unexpectedly.

“It feels good?” he asked in that way that made it obvious he knew the answer.

“Yes, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whimpered. You’d gotten pretty good by now at appeasing him by performing the role he wanted you to play… so good, in fact, that it was starting to feel very real.

Just as you were grabbing onto his shoulders to hold you steady through your orgasm, he was pulling out his hand and reaching for his own pants instead.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained quickly as he pushed them down and revealed his hard, leaking cock. “I need to be inside you when I make you come.”

He helped you slide off your pants and underwear but pulled you back into his lap the absolute second they were discarded. He slid you down onto his cock with a groan, and your face was so hot as you processed how wet you were, how easily he entered you. Your joy halted, though, when he held your hips down. You tried to wiggle around for some friction but he was so strong that it was a complete waste.

“Daddy,” you mumbled with confusion, “what are you doing?”

“You’re mine, baby, ‘m gonna use you how I please,” he reminded you darkly, “and right now I want you to stay still and wait.”

“But--”

He slapped your ass harshly, and you whimpered but decided not to put up much more of a fight.

All the while as you tried to stay still, he was kissing your neck and jaw and cheeks, murmuring praises and leaving the softest bite marks every once in a while.

“Please let me move,” you sobbed against his shoulder, having to fight everything in you not to start grinding on him like your life depended on it.

“I’m not ready yet,” he denied.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you whimpered. “I’ll do anything. I just need to come, and I need to make you come, please…”

With a hand on either side of your hips, he started to move you on top of him, excruciatingly slow. Your head fell back from how wonderful just that felt.

“Anything? You’re gonna spoil me talking like that, doll.”

“Oh god, anything, just move a little faster, please,” you begged. Of course you knew it was a bad idea, and you figured you were going to regret saying it, but your need was surpassing your sanity at the moment.

He grabbed your face and pulled you down until your lips were almost brushing his, but not quite. “Keep riding my cock, babygirl.” You nodded, finally free to pick up the pace to where you wanted it, and you bit your lip as his cock stretched you exactly how you needed it to.

“Daddy, you feel so good inside me,” you moaned.

“I can tell,” he smiled, “you’re making those perfect noises, it’s killing me not to flip you over and fuck you so hard right now.”

You were much more inspired by that mental image than you expected to be. Those few times he’d gotten really rough with you, it had made you so wet you thought you might get dehydrated.

When he spoke again, his voice was so low that it sounded like a growl, echoing in his chest and making shivers run up your spine. “I know what I want you to do for me.”

You swallowed and braced yourself as he pulled you even closer, looking right into your eyes.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded.

You gasped, tears starting to burn at the back of your eyes. It was the last thing you expected, but it also tracked. Of course that was what he wanted. But now that you were trying to form words and nothing would come out, you were kind of wishing he’d just said he wanted anal.

“D-daddy,” you stammered, distracted by him grabbing your hips and moving you even faster on top of him. He was practically throwing you up and down on top of him, and somehow doing it effortlessly.

“Just say it,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you whispered back. He smiled and pulled you into a deep kiss, swallowing every moan as you felt yourself barrelling towards your peak.

“Please, I’m about to come-- can I come, Daddy?”

“Almost,” he nodded, “say it again, babygirl.”

“I love you,” you panted, “Daddy, I love you, please--”

“One more time,” he grunted, watching your face.

“I love you!” you yelped, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer and feeling your walls flutter as sensation washed over you. Thankfully he wasn’t far behind, only thrusting up into you a few more times before he spilled himself with a groan.

He kissed you long and slow, staying inside you even as his cock began to soften a little. When he pulled away, he looked up at you with an expression that brimmed with restrained excitement.

“Oh, doll, you have no idea how good it is to finally hear you say that,” he beamed. “We’re gonna be so happy here together… just me and my best girl, right?”

“Right,” you smiled, but as soon as you blinked a tear was rolling down your cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” he soothed, “everything’s finally the way it’s supposed to be. You’re finally where you belong, with me.”

You nodded weakly and felt whatever grip you had on your sanity loosening. Dreams of escape faded as he carried you to bed, holding you in his arms all night long. You were beginning to embrace the simplicity of just letting life happen to you. For every time you felt belittled and patronized by his coddling, there was another time that you secretly felt protected and loved. The truth was, even though you had experienced so much that you couldn’t begin to describe in the past week, you had been relieved of so much of the stress you dealt with before. As you drifted to sleep, you only hoped that you could manage to hide that truth from yourself just a little bit longer.

He was honestly proud of himself for managing to keep his hands off you while you slept all this time. But it wasn’t too much longer before you woke him up with your stirring. At first he was just going to give you a quick hug and then get back to sleep, but then as he pulled you closer, he realized you were dreaming. And when you moaned quietly in your sleep, he realized it wasn’t just any dream.

He smiled to himself as he kissed your neck gently, wondering if you would wake up or not. It was sort of a win-win either way for him. He let his hands slide down your body, listening to your breathing as it began to pick up. Your mouth fell open and it made your sounds even more apparent as he carefully opened your legs.

“Oh baby, you’re drenched,” he murmured to no one in particular, admiring the way your pussy glistened in the low light of the room. This was one of those times that he really appreciated his choice to make you sleep naked almost every night.

One metal finger sliding through your folds made you shiver. He wondered if it was from arousal or if the metal felt cold on your warm skin. Your clit was swollen, and apparently extra sensitive from the way your sleeping body erupted in goosebumps when he drew lazy circles around it.

Suddenly lacking in the patience more foreplay would require, he found himself shoving down his boxers and stroking his cock, preparing to push into you. If that didn’t wake you up, he’d be slightly concerned… but he wasn’t sure if he’d be concerned enough to stop fucking you. Thankfully he didn’t have to face that dilemma because the second he was pressing his head into your opening, your eyes flew open.

“Daddy!” you yelped, your voice sounding a little strange as you were torn from your sleep.

He bottomed out and groaned softly, relishing how tightly you wrapped around him. “You looked so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t help myself.”

You mewled but said nothing, only wrapping your hands around his biceps as he pulled back to thrust into you again.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked firmly.

“N-nobody-- I mean, uh, nothing,” you stumbled over your words.

“Oh, you can’t lie to me very well can you? It’s okay doll, you can tell me, but if it’s someone other than me I’m probably gonna kill him.”

He felt you tense up a little and he knew he’d scared you. He sort of wanted to do it again, because he loved the way your cunt tightened in that moment, but he decided against it.

“Aw, I’m just joking,” he dismissed, though he wasn’t quite sure if he actually was or not. “Go ahead, tell me what you were dreaming.”

“Y-you were there,” you explained, “but it wasn’t just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Um, yeah,” you deflected nervously.

“Go ahead, spit it out,” he hissed as he started to thrust into you a bit harder.

“Well, uh, Steve was there too,” you finally admitted. A lot of emotions hit him at once when he heard you say that. Of course jealousy was prominent, but it was different than it would’ve been before... you were home now, and nobody could take you away. Both of you knew that. So it might have been a slight blow to the ego, but he didn’t see Steve as a threat. What he did see was an opportunity to make you squirm, which he was always looking for.

“Was he watching us?” Bucky pressed.

“Uh, sort of…” you trailed off.

He leaned down, putting his lips right against your ear. “Was he fucking you?”

You whimpered but he could tell you were turned on. He reached down and roughly rubbed at your clit. “Be honest, darling.”

“He wasn’t,” you explained, “you were; you said he wasn’t allowed to… but I gave him a-- a blowjob.”

As much as Bucky wasn’t exactly the sharing type, he was intrigued by the mental image of you stuffed with cock at both ends like that. Even more so he was intrigued by the fact that it apparently turned you on.

“Is that what you want, huh? One cock isn’t good enough for you? Who knew you were such a fucking slut.”

“‘M not!” you denied.

“Then why are you soaked from dreaming about choking on somebody else’s cock while I fuck you, huh?”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“And how did you feel when I told Stevie he wasn’t allowed to fuck you? Even in your sleep you know your Daddy owns you. That this is my hole and I decide everything that happens to it.”

You moaned so loud that he was afraid he would come right then and there. You sounded like heaven. He thrust into you as hard and deep as he could, slamming into your cervix and hitting your clit with his pelvis with each brutal motion. You cried out and dug your nails into his skin.

“Fuck, you like it rough don’t you? Of course you do. ‘Cause you’re Daddy’s needy little whore.”

“Yes, I’m close!” you yelped.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna let you come until you beg for it. Seems like you need to remember that I’m the only one for you.”

“Just you, Daddy, I only want you!” you reassured, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I’d die before I let you get on your knees for another man, do you believe me babygirl?”

“Yes, I know Daddy, I’m yours, there’s nobody else.”

“If you wanna come you better start askin’ really nice,” he growled.

“Please, Daddy, I want you to make me come! It feels so good, please…”

“Keep going.”

“You’re amazing, your cock feels amazing, I wanna come for you so bad--”

“Fuck, baby, beg me to use you.”

He knew you were flustered by that.

“I-- I don’t know how,” you protested.

“Oh come on, you’re dumb but you’re not that dumb,” he grinned. “Just how I said it.”

“Use me,” you murmured in defeat, “please.”

“That’s it,” he praised, “just like that-- come for me, doll.”

You were so obedient, tightening around him and nearly screaming with pleasure the moment he commanded you to. He wasn’t far behind, succumbing to the perfection of your wet heat and filling it with his climax.

“Fuck!” he groaned when he hit the peak of it, trying somehow to focus entirely on both the way you felt and the way you sounded.

Normally he cleaned you up after this but right now he wanted his come to leak out of you all night, make your thighs and the sheets sticky. Apparently you had some sort of implant or something which kept you safe… he was trying not to count the days until it wore off. He figured you would totally lose it if he told you that he wanted to get you pregnant, and yet, he was surprised that you hadn’t asked him about getting your implant replaced.

You knew that life was unpredictable and all that, but if never in a million years would you have expected for the Winter Soldier to be painting your nails. But there he was, focused intently on each stroke of the tiny brush as he held your hand still.

“This’ll help you stop chewing your nails,” he gave as his excuse. It was almost believable, except that he did your toes too. Amazingly enough, you’d never chewed on those.

They were actually sort of pretty, if you were being honest. You admired them a little, as they dried. It wasn’t a perfect paint job by any means, but much better than you expected from Bucky and honestly, a bit better than you would’ve done it in all likelihood. The baby pink color was a little nauseating as always, but it admittedly did look nice with your skin tone.

“What do you say?” he prompted.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you smiled. “It looks nice.”

“You’re welcome, angel. I think so too. We’ll take ‘em for a spin when they’re dry.”

You swallowed. You had a pretty good idea of what that would entail.

Next was your hair. Pigtails, the way he always did it. You never quite understood what he liked so much about turning you into a girlier, more childish version of yourself, but you were finally embracing the things that you liked about being in this role. He certainly pampered you, which was hard to complain about. In your whole time here (you struggled to keep track but it must have been over a month now) you'd never cooked once.

After lunch he had you on your knees, looking up at him while you started to unzip his fly. You found yourself salivating a little as you pulled his half-hard cock out of his boxers.

“Baby, your hands are so small…” he noticed reverently. “Barely fit around it.”

“It’s not that they’re small, it’s that you’re so big,” you replied, more honest than you were used to being with him.

“You flatter me,” he grinned. “Do it some more.”

You felt put on the spot, but feared disappointing him. “Daddy, your cock is… so big,” you improvised, still stroking him as he got harder for you, “I can’t believe it fits inside me.”

“Hmm, it almost doesn’t,” he recalled.

“But it feels so good when-- when I get used to you and, um, your cock… stretches me…”

He groaned a little, and you moved your hand faster.

“Fills me up so good, Daddy,” you moaned, getting more into it than you had intended to. “Your cock feels so fucking good, it’s like it’s made for me--”

He cut you off suddenly by pushing you back onto the mattress, hovering over you as a muscular hand wrapped around your throat.

“Got quite the mouth on ya, doll,” he growled. “Do I need to wash it out with soap?”

You shook your head; he wasn’t choking you hard enough to stop you from speaking entirely if you had really wanted to, but you were too stunned to say much. His attitude could flip on a dime like this, and you could never see it coming. The fear made your heart race; the anticipation made your thighs clench together.

He smiled as he pulled back, letting go of your neck and reaching for his cock instead. “I can tell you’re worked up. Go ahead, touch yourself.”

You hesitated because typically that would be an infraction, but he nodded for you to continue as you nervously reached between your legs.

You gasped softly when you touched your clit: it was swollen, and especially sensitive. You hadn't realized how turned on you really were. Slowly, you started to rub circles around it as your hips rocked with your movements.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, and when you looked up at him, he was stroking himself as well. You nodded quickly. "'M gonna come on that pretty face, little one. Beg me for it."

"Daddy…" you murmured in shock, "I… want you to come on my face, please. Wanna be covered in it."

"You're not a good liar," he grinned. "I know you really want me to fuck you."

He wasn't wrong, so you nodded again and watched his hand speed up as it moved up and down his length.

"You poor thing," he cooed. "I fuck you daily and you're so disappointed to be going without, to just be getting my come on your face like the dirty little whore you are."

His words stung but your hand was moving faster between your legs.

"You're getting close, aren't you? Wait until I'm ready," he ordered. You swallowed dryly but slowed down a little to buy yourself some time.

He grunted a bit and you really hoped it was signalling an orgasm because you felt yours building unstoppably. You didn't even think you could pull your hand away from yourself if he asked you to, you needed to come so bad.

"Fuck, open your mouth baby-- stick your tongue out," he commanded quickly, stepping forward until his cock was casting a shadow over your face. "Oh god, just like that… ready baby?"

You nodded one more time and heard yourself panting loudly through your open mouth, your moans only interrupted by a wince as his come spurted forward and painted your face and exposed tongue in hot stripes. Your orgasm hit just in time, embarrassingly spurred on by the degrading position you were in.

When he was done-- which seemed to take forever because he came so much-- he started to catch his breath before slipping his softening cock onto your come-coated tongue and into your waiting mouth.

"Mm, you look so good like this," he praised, "I'm not sure I wanna let you wipe it off."

A flesh thumb moved down to your cheek and rubbed a stray drop of spend into your skin.

"My perfect little cum dumpster, huh?" he said proudly, as if it was an award or achievement or something, and not a sick, insulting term.

Weird thing was, you felt proud of yourself, too.

He’d been working outside all day, chopping firewood in preparation for the upcoming winter. Sure, the cabin had heating, but he had a lot of ideas about cuddling in front of the fire, or maybe making love beside it.

Regardless, even super soldiers tire and must rest after working. He decided to head inside and heat up something warm to stave off the cold. You were still sleeping last he’d checked, exhausted from a long night-- yes, that kind of long night. He almost felt guilty for putting your body through so much… you were so delicate, sometimes he forgot you couldn’t always handle what he could. However, you were stronger than you realized, and such a perfectly obedient little girl; he smiled at the memory of your skin under his fingertips, your fragile form writhing and whimpering beneath him as he’d taken you for hours. As he daydreamed and began to enter the kitchen, he was torn from his imagination by a sound from your room. At first he wondered if he’d misheard it, but when he heard you cry out again, he assumed you were hurt and nearly tripped over himself to run to you. His heart was racing and he almost considered reaching for his sidearm-- there was no way someone could’ve broken in and tried to hurt you, right?

But as he flung open the door, instead he found you alone with your hand between your legs. You jumped up when you saw him, but it was too late.

“The fuck are you doing?!” he exclaimed, climbing onto the bed and trapping you before you could crawl backwards away from him.

“I-- I was just--”

He cut you off with a quick slap to the face. Not to hurt you, just to get you to focus on him.

“You know you can’t touch yourself without my permission. Did you forget?”

“No…” you murmured ashamedly.

“If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it?”

“I… I just missed you…”

“Why didn’t you call me for help? I can’t take care of you if you don’t ask.”

“I knew you were busy, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“Show me what you did,” he growled, watching you sheepishly spread your legs again to reveal your wet pussy and swollen clit. “Oh doll, you really did a number on yourself. Did you come without me?”

You looked away.

“Don’t bother lying. Did you make yourself come with your fingers?”

“Yes…”

You were hiding something. He almost didn’t want to know the entire truth because it was breaking his heart to know you’d disobeyed so severely, but he had to know what happened if he was going to discipline you properly.

“Was it more than once?”

You shook your head and his blood went cold upon the realization that you were hiding something worse.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked you slowly. He could hear your breathing quickened and he was sure he might die if you said what he was afraid of. “Answer me.”

“I was thinking about… being fucked…”

“By who?” he asked. You opened your mouth instantly but he cut you off. “Don’t lie.”

You spoke but it was so weak that it wasn’t even a whisper. “What was that?” he pressed.

“Sam,” you finally relented, “it was Sam.”

He was livid, but at least it wasn’t Steve.

“Go stand beside the bed and kneel,” he commanded firmly. You nodded weakly and slithered out from under him to do as he asked.

He took a deep, slow breath hoping to calm himself a little. He had heard that you shouldn’t punish little girls when you’re angry. But he needed to nip this in the bud.

He got off the bed and approached you after a moment, running a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him.

“You understand you’ve been very naughty, don’t you?” he asked with a cold fury tinting his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered. Clearly you were trying to be extra good and dutiful, hoping that strict adherence to the rules from here on out could save you some pain. You weren’t wrong, but he wished that you would’ve had that attitude a little sooner.

“And if I don’t teach you a lesson, that would be unfair to both of us.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened his belt and fly, pulling out his cock. He sensed that you were compelled to lean forward and take it in your mouth, but you stayed still; you knew he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do.

As he stroked his cock to full hardness, he glared at you so intensely that you couldn’t keep his gaze, looking up briefly but always glancing back down to the floor shamefully.

“I-I’m sorry, Da-” you began weakly.

“You’ll speak when spoken to,” he interjected harshly. Finally, he held your jaw with one hand, the other holding his cock forward as he plunged it between your lips. He moaned a little when you swirled your tongue over it, doing your best to coat every inch of it in wetness.

As quickly as he had pushed in, he pulled out again. He slapped his cock on your face, smearing your own spit on your cheek. He rubbed his tip over your lips in a circle, but when you opened up your mouth for him, instead he leaned forward and spit into your open mouth.

“Swallow it,” he demanded through his teeth, and you did though it made you shudder with disgust.

Only then did he shove his cock in again, and with brutal force as well. He used fistfuls of your hair to pull your face up and down on his cock, ignoring your whimpers of pain.

The room was filled with the sounds of your choking and coughing, until those extended periods of silence when his cock was shoved all the way into your throat and you couldn’t even get enough air for that. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life.

When he pulled you off of him to look at your face, he grinned proudly. “Doll, you look like a fuckin’ mess.” And it was true; spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin and onto the floor, red nose and puffy eyes from crying… truly a sight to behold.

He gave you one more slap for good measure, the fist in your hair preventing your head from spinning to the side.

“Gonna fuckin’ come in your throat. You’d better swallow it all, bitch.”

He could feel your whole body jerk when he said it, and it only served to make your throat even tighter around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “just like that, choke on me, fuck, oh god, fuck--”

He came with a stuttered moan and the sounds of protest you tried to make were lost as cum filled your throat and mouth.

He smiled when you swallowed quickly, determined to obey. He wasn’t even done coming yet and you were swallowing it. Probably a good strategy; he had been pent up for a while now and he probably could’ve filled your tiny mouth until it was leaking.

When he was sure every drop of come had been spilled and swallowed, he pulled out and gave you some reprieve. You gasped for air loudly, coughing a few times but mostly maintaining your composure like the good little slut you were.

He watched you shift your hip uncomfortably and realized you must be quite agitated yourself.

“If you want something from me, just ask,” he encouraged. “That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?”

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered.

He wagged his finger disapprovingly. “I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and he yanked you off the floor and into his lap quickly.

“You get so dumb when you need me,” he growled into your ear. “So desperate that you don’t know how to think about anything else but cock. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded with a gasp.

“You’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you? Say it," he hissed in demand.

“I’m your dumb little baby,” you repeated breathlessly.

“Get on your hands and knees and get that ass up.”

You obeyed quickly, almost eagerly, and he grinned at your obedience. You really needed it bad, and he was helpless but to oblige you. As soon as he was on his knees behind you and lining up with your sopping entrance, he was shoving his cock into you all at once.

You yelped at the brutality of the intrusion; he stayed still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your warmth, before pulling back out again.

“Wh-?” you began to protest in confusion, but he was a step ahead of you.

“That was just to get my cock wet, baby.”

One metal finger slipped into your puckered hole and you yelped. “D-daddy, not there!”

“Shhh, just relax,” he soothed.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you whined.

“That’s sort of the idea,” he explained. “I know what you can handle, doll.”

“And I can handle this?”

“I never said that.”

And with only one more finger and a few more minutes of hasty preparation, he was pushing his cock into your tighter hole.

“Shh,” he soothed when he felt you clench around him, but still pushing forward, indifferent to your hiss of pain.

“It hurts!” you sobbed.

“I know baby, you’re just gonna have to take it. This wouldn’t be happening if you had just asked me to help you.”

You pouted and it was equal parts adorable and pathetic. “I’m sorry!”

“I’ll tell you when it’s time to apologize. Right now you just need to be quiet. Don’t you wanna be a good little girl?”

“Y-yes.”

He started to move his cock inside you and you shivered under him.

“Please come,” you begged weakly after a few more minutes of thrusting.

“You wanna get it over with? Don’t like it?”

You nodded and he did feel bad for you, but he knew it was what you needed.

“I’ll come when I’m ready, doll. Just take Daddy’s cock, ‘s all you’re good for anyways, right angel?”

You nodded and bit back another sob, blissfully unaware of his adoring gaze; you looked so cute crying for his cock. He liked being strong enough to hurt you almost as much as he liked being strong enough to protect you.

“My perfect little crybaby,” he cooed. “Don’t whine too much or I’ll have to stuff that filthy mouth with a paci, alright?”

He watched you bite your lip and try to stay calm. Out of pity, he moved a little slower than he wanted to, giving you some more time to adjust. Eventually he felt you relaxing, though you still yelped a little when he pushed in all the way. It was hard to choose between watching your face or watching his cock stretch open your hole.

“God, you’re takin’ me so well,” he praised. “Who knew you were such a whore, huh?”

Before you could deny it, he reached down and swiped his fingers through your folds quickly, groaning when he felt how swollen and wet they were. “Fuck, baby, you’re drenched. You like getting fucked up the ass; such a dirty little slut.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you informed him with a weak voice. He was still angry with you, of course, but he was so proud of you, too. He could remember all those times you’d tried to run or fight, now you were just laying there and taking it like a champ-- no restraints, no threats, just the desire to be good for him. You were everything he’d ever dreamed you could be and more.

The thought spurred his orgasm ahead sooner than he expected, but he still wanted to hold back. You needed more to learn your lesson, and he wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible.

His fingers had been digging into the supple flesh of your hips and ass, hard enough to bruise, but you felt too warm and too soft, so he gripped the sheets instead in his attempts to stave off his rupture.

But it wasn’t much longer until the tightness of you, the heat of you, the sweetness of your sobs all became too perfect to ignore. His cock was aching for release, and if he denied himself much more, he figured his balls would never relax from their tightened state.

“I think you’re ready to apologize now,” he groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you sobbed. “I swear, I’ll never touch myself without your permission again-- and I’ll never think about anybody but you! I only want you, I swear!”

“You sure, baby? You don’t think Sam would treat you better?” he mocked. Sam definitely would be nicer to you, but there was no way he could treat you better than Bucky did. Maybe you wanted a guy who was sweeter, more traditional, but this was what you needed and only your Daddy could give that to you.

“I’m sure! I only want you, please! Please, please come.”

“Is that what you want, angel? Want me to come in your tight little ass?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please…?”

“Please, Daddy.”

And he came, though it was a little more physically taxing since it was the second of the night. You whimpered a little but he could tell you were relieved it was over.

You didn’t put up any fight at bath time that night, just curled into his arms and let him wash you as you whispered more apologies.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he soothed as he washed your hair, whispering right against your ear before giving it a little kiss. “You did good, baby. You made a mistake but you’re gonna learn from it and we’re gonna be better than ever. You took your punishment so well, darling, you should be proud.”

Today you'd woken up to an empty house, with a note on the kitchen table:

Gone for groceries, I'll be back in the afternoon. When I get home, greet me at the door wearing what I've laid out for you in your closet.

You figured it wasn't going to be something conservative by any means, but you were still taken aback by finding a tail, collar, and cat-ear headband. The collar was pink leather with a tiny bell and a little heart-shaped steel tag with your name on it. The realization that he had this custom-made sent a shiver down your back. On the back of the tag was another engraving:

IF LOST RETURN TO BUCKY BARNES

You were a little concerned about wearing only a collar, ears and tail… especially when you realized how the tail was intended to be worn.

Still, you had become thoroughly obedient, and you trusted that this would make him happy which was all you could hope for. You fought past your hesitation and changed out of your pajamas into the outfit (if it could even be called that when it contained no actual clothing).

He had the biggest grin on his face when he opened the door to find you on your knees just outside the entryway.

“Oh look at you, kitten,” he beamed.

Being naked on the floor was cold and awkward. You crossed your arms to cover your chest, frowning as you tried to avoid his penetrating gaze. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You are stupid," he smiled. "But you look great! Now behave or you’ll have to eat out of a bowl on the floor until you’ve learned to love being Daddy’s pet.”

Your eyes went wide.

“You’re gonna behave, right?”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

He smiled and curled his finger, motioning for you to come closer. You awkwardly crawled towards him on your hands and knees, biting your lip absent-mindedly. When you were on the floor in front of his legs, he knelt down a bit and grabbed a handful of your ass. It made the plug inside you shift and you whimpered.

“Mm, this tail looks lovely on you,” he praised. “And the ears… you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you shyly accepted the compliment.

"I bet you got wet putting this on, huh?" he presumed. You nodded as he moved to rub two fingers through your folds, proving himself right.

When he leaned back and pulled his cock from his jeans, you were surprised at how hard it already was. Clearly the kitten thing was working for him.

"Go ahead kitty, I know you want a taste," he encouraged.

You leaned forward and gave, fittingly, small kitten licks to the tip of his cock and he groaned. “Just like that, fuck.”

You hummed when you tasted his pre-cum on your tongue. You’d gotten so accustomed to it that you actually enjoyed the flavor now.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your lips around the head and suckled on it gently. Apparently, he didn’t care much for the slow-but-steady method; he slipped two fingers under your collar and used it to pull you down further until you choked.

He continued to guide you forward and back, moaning every time your throat accepted the leaking head of his cock.

“You don’t want me to come in your mouth, do you?” he asked with a grunt.

You shook your head.

He grinned knowingly, pushing you back until your mouth was empty and free to respond. “Where do you want it?”

“In my pussy.”

“Full sentences only, please.”

“I want you to come in my pussy, Daddy, please.”

“Hmm, you did ask very nicely,” he smiled. “But I have something else to do first. Go get on the couch, kitten, hands and knees.”

You almost stood up but realized he wanted you to crawl again. As soon as you’d done it, he was behind you, humming contentedly as he ran his rough hands over your skin. You mewled when he started to kiss along your back, down your ass and between your thighs until he was licking long stripes through your folds. Both of you moaned when he sucked your clit into his mouth, even allowing it to graze against his teeth which nearly hurt but made you gush with wetness anyways.

"Please-- I'm close, Daddy, can I come?" you whimpered.

"Go ahead," he mumbled before returning to his work, knowing exactly how to use his tongue to take you apart in mere minutes. Your hands grabbed desperately at the back of the couch for stability as your legs began to quiver with the force of your orgasm. You yelped and bit down on your lip as it crashed over you; sometimes when he ate you out, he wouldn't stop after you'd came and keep going until you were begging for mercy, but he was apparently feeling generous today and stopped once you'd finished.

That, of course, did not mean he was finished with you.

He pushed his jeans down to his thighs and laid back onto the mattress, cock so hard that it was pressing into his abs.

“Come on kitten, ride me,” he grinned, motioning for you to climb on top of him. The moment you did he was rubbing his cock against you, pushing it upwards for you to sink down onto it. You moaned as it stretched you open, and when your hips met his, the tip of it brushed against the deepest places inside you. You yelped and tried to move back up but he suddenly grabbed your legs and held you down.

“Nuh-uh, kitten, no running away. You’re gonna take all of me.”

“It’s too deep,” you protested weakly, even though you felt your walls throbbing with pleasure.

“Not at all, angel; you’re made for me, so you fit me perfectly,” he explained. “If I let you go, you’re gonna ride me properly, take my whole cock, right?”

You nodded and he eased up his grip. You felt your legs shaking as little as you pushed yourself up only to drop back down, wincing as he filled you so completely once again. You repeated the movement over and over, picking up pace and moaning every time. You could feel his cock moving the plug inside your ass, and each bounce on top of him made your collar jingle a little.

You did your best to keep up the pace, but to lift yourself required use of a muscle that you clearly hadn't been getting much exercise for; it wasn't more than a few minutes before you were faltering, your moans of pleasure accented with the struggling groans of exhaustion.

"Oh kitty, are you too weak? Too wimpy and small to ride my cock? Baby… that's pathetic," he moped.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you pouted. "I'm just tired…"

"Just a little longer, kitten, just ride my cock a little more then I'll help you out, okay? I know you can do it. I know you can be a good girl."

You hoped he was right. You nodded weakly as he looked at you expectantly, before slowly beginning to move again in spite of your sore thighs.

Soon, as he'd promised, he pulled you down and wrapped his arms around you, thrusting up into you. Your moans echoed against his skin when your face was shoved into the crook of his neck. When his cock slammed into your most sensitive spot, you bit him there as a way to stifle yourself and he slapped your ass.

“Only bad kittens bite, doll. I thought you were going to be a good kitten for me?”

“Feels so good,” you tried to explain though it came out slurred, “please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop until that pussy is full of my come. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you pleaded, “oh god, yes, please…”

He moaned loudly as his thrusts lost all rhythm, his cock moving so fast inside you that the sensation became one hot blur against your walls. Finally, as he groaned and gripped you tight enough to bruise, he spilled inside you.

As he let out a long breath and his body relaxed under you, he smiled softly. "You really are perfect, pet."

"C-can I take off the ears now? And the tail?"

"Hmm, not yet," he grinned, "we need to take a few pictures of you like this first."

He was working in the kitchen when he heard your footsteps approaching.

"Don't come in here!" he ordered you. "Wait for me at the dining table."

"Why, Daddy?" he heard you respond from the hall. He smiled just to hear your sweet voice.

"It's a surprise, babydoll," he explained. "It's almost ready-- just wait, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," you answered dutifully, your footsteps moving to the dining area as he'd requested.

Stepping back and admiring his work, he lifted it and turned out the door to deliver your surprise: a cake, with pink frosting and one pink candle.

Your eyes lit up when you saw him holding the cake stand, being careful not to tilt it or get the flame of the candle near his long hair.

He smiled and set it in front of you, looking to your face for a reaction. Suddenly he felt self-conscious about it, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um, I made it myself. Sorry if the decorating isn't that nice…"

"It's beautiful, Daddy, and I bet it'll taste great, too," you beamed. "What's the occasion?"

"It's our anniversary," he replied, his voice suddenly low and dark.

He saw recognition cross your face, though you looked confused as well. The meds he'd given you throughout the year had disrupted your memories, and probably distorted your perception of the passage of time as well, but it was all necessary to get you compliant. He hoped reminding you of that somewhat violent first day wouldn't set back any of your progress.

"I've… been here a year?" you asked weakly.

"We've been here a year," he corrected, sitting down beside you and wrapping an arm around you, "but that's not what we're celebrating."

The hand on your shoulder slipped down to the underside of your arm, stroking it slowly.

"We're celebrating that a medication somebody gave you a long time ago, before we were together, is finally worn off," he explained slowly, a grin creeping across his face. "We're celebrating that the next time I come inside you, I'm gonna get you pregnant."

He didn't fuck you for three days after that, loving the way you were clearly on edge as you waited for him to make good on his promise. And he didn't blame you for being nervous about it, even if you seemed to understand that any protest from you would fall on deaf ears.

So, he was quite taken aback when you came onto him one night, bedtime cuddling quickly turning into something more as you rubbed your ass against his crotch. He hadn't even realized that you would want it all on your own.

God, you were so fucking perfect he couldn't stand it.

"What are you doing, angel?" he asked you with a growl as he grabbed your hips and forced them to still.

"Nothing, Daddy," you answered coyly. He grinned and nipped at your earlobe.

"Are you horny, babygirl? Because you're acting like a whore."

You nodded and gasped, shivering under his touch.

"Want Daddy's cock inside you?" he pressed, voice getting darker.

"Yes, please!" you begged.

He sat up and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his arms as he hovered above you.

“You wanna have my baby?” he asked in a husky whisper.

“Yes,” you nodded your head quickly.

“Want me to knock you up, doll? Right now?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He leaned down, almost close enough to kiss you, as his gaze wandered over your face “I don’t want it to be like the other times. None of the crazy shit, nothing rough. If I’m gonna get you pregnant--”

“Whatever you want,” you pleaded.

He kissed you suddenly, deep and slow. “I love you,” he told you quickly as he pulled back, breathless but confident.

“I love you too,” you answered without even questioning it.

He was gentle, and thorough, and patient. It was love-making in a way that was out of character for him. He lifted your legs to wrap around his hips, pushing into you as deep as he could but with a contemplative slowness; he cradled your face in his hands and kissed all over it as he praised you in whispers.

My pretty girl, my perfect little girl, gonna fill you up, gonna make you mine.

You were only moans and sobs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

The first time you came was unexpected, building slowly but crashing into you all at once, judging by the way you went from softly whimpering to nearly screaming in seconds. The second was quieter, more subtle, but he could tell by the way your walls tightened around him. The third left you in tears, beyond overstimulated and broken down into a babbling mess.

“Please,” you cried, “please I need you to come-- come inside me.”

He struggled to resist that offer, but he didn't want it to be over too quickly.

“Soon,” he promised, “I’m close. You feel so good.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss but stopping as his mouth brushed against yours.

“Please, Bucky… please come…” you whispered.

He moaned, his thrusts getting a little more erratic.

“Need it so bad,” you whimpered, “need you to put your baby in me--”

“Fuck,” he hissed, “‘m gonna, promise.”

“Now,” you demanded through your teeth, “I need it now.”

“Not until you come one more time,” he responded. You whined and he knew you were questioning whether it was possible. “I know you can, just gimme one more.”

His angle shifted and he stayed deep within you, grinding his hips on yours just the right way to rub your clit with his pubic bone. Your back arched but he held you close, barraging you with the sensation and pressing his forehead to yours.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life, as if you were afraid to fall. He smiled and kissed your neck, feeling your walls flutter around him once again.

“That’s it,” he praised, “I know you’re close. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Tears streamed down your face as it tore through you, hitting you so hard that instead of moans it was just silence. He watched your face intently, breathing through his teeth as he summoned all his willpower to hold on just a little longer.

"Daddy!" you yelped, and he couldn't take any more: with a high-pitched, stuttered moan, he felt his cock flexed as he came harder than maybe he ever had before. Knowing that you were fertile made it all so much more intense. Normally, his orgasm just meant the end of sex-- maybe just for a few minutes on a good day. But now? Now it was the beginning of something. His perfect little angel was going to finally fulfill her final purpose and give him a baby. He'd waited so long, dreamed of it every day for years, and finally it was going to happen.

He refused to pull out or let you move until he was sure it would take; he killed the time by kissing every part of your face and neck that he could reach.

He hadn't even gotten you pregnant yet, technically, and he already couldn't wait for more children. He'd always wanted to have a big family, but he gave up on that dream years ago; meeting you had brought it all back, and made him realize that all this time he'd just been waiting for the perfect wife to start it with.

You were well worth the wait.

#dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes non con #bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x y/n #dark!sebastian stan x reader

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sneezefiction · 4 years ago

Text

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.”

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head.

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library…

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold.

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this.

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.”

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself.

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him.

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #seijoh #what did i just write #this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd #also #i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go #goodnight yall #queued up!

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Singing in the Shower (Ragnarssons x Reader)

This is just a silly little one-shot that came to mind that I could not stop thinking about. It got a bit deeper than I planned but oops?

Also my first time writing a Ragnarssons x reader! Please let me know if I did all the brothers justice. Except Bjorn isn’t in here. So its just the sons of Aslaug. Sorry, Bjorn.

Warnings: some brief mentions of abusive/unhealthy past relationships, reader has some insecurities, the brothers being the best roomies ever but also creepers, like one or two swear words, FLUFFY GOODNESS!!!

Words: 3700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius

(picture is from Pinterest. Not mine.)

The sound of laughter echoed around you even before leaving your bedroom. It was a Sunday night so that meant the Lothbrok brothers were all over. A tradition Ubbe started some months ago to make sure the four brothers stayed connected in each other's lives. Every Sunday evening, all of them would congregate in the three bedroom flat you shared with Ubbe and Hvitserk. They would order a stack of pizzas and enough beer to put a pub crawl to shame, and watch movies or play video games until the early morning hours. Only twice had fist fights broken out between Sigurd and Ivar with just a table and a lamp damaged in the process, so Ubbe called it a win.

It had only been about a year that you lived with Ubbe and Hvitserk. Sigurd chose to move in with a couple members of the band he played in. Aslaug vehemently refused to let Ivar move out due to his many medical needs that she claimed he could only receive proper attention for at home. In equal parts rebellion and to escape his mother’s suffocating attention, Ivar spent the majority of his free time and nights crashing on the couch at your shared flat.

At first, you were hesitant about living with the two brothers, having only known them through friends, but you decided to give it a chance. Within a couple of months, you found the strange dynamics of your shared space and your vastly different relationships with each of the brothers to feel eerily familiar….like being home.

Standing at your door, you listened to the brothers for a few moments, smiling broadly as you heard Hvitserk taunting Sigurd about how he was going to beat his ass if he threw another blue shell at him. Meanwhile Ivar was yelling something about the undeniable magic of Yoshi and his winning streak. They must be playing Mario Kart again.

It was nice to hear them all getting along. Normally Sunday nights you hung out with your boyfriend to give the brothers privacy, even though all of them repeatedly told you it was unnecessary. That was until last week. You had taken a selfie on your boyfriend's phone and went to set it as his background to surprise him….and found nude pictures of other girls and the dick pics he sent them back. Before you stormed out of his flat, you may have thrown his phone against the wall, pleased when the screen shattered just like your trust. Then you came home and cried to Hvitserk about how you were swearing off men and just wanted to be a spinster for the rest of your life.

Word must have spread between the brothers. For the rest of the week, they all offered their support in various ways. Sigurd texted you a few times to check on you and remind you that clearly you were better off without your ex. Ubbe gave you long hugs as if trying to soak the pain out of you, and made sure you were eating and getting out of bed. Hvitserk surprised you with a new sugary treat every day ranging from Oreos to ice cream to chocolate muffins; then you two would cuddle on the couch indulging yourselves while watching movies. Ivar threatened to beat up your now ex-boyfriend for making you cry and take pictures to send to those girls your ex had been texting. You made sure to shut Ivar's idea down quickly but pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and thanked him for offering. You hated your ex, that did not mean you wanted him dead.

You pushed away from your door and down the hallway. Popping your head around the corner, you saw the brothers in various positions in the living room, eyes all glued to the TV and the race happening on-screen.

"I'm gonna shower." You announced, receiving grunts of affirmations as they were too focused to fully acknowledge you. Smiling at their antics, you headed into the bathroom, shutting the door and starting the shower up. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, you stripped and jumped in. Of course, once the mixture of hot water and steam helped you relax, you started singing to yourself, letting the worries of the day fade away for just a moment as the words flowed from your lips and echoed off the shower stall walls like your own little stage.

Unbeknownst to you, as soon as the bathroom door shut and the sound of water running could be heard, the volume on the TV was muted.

Ivar, surprisingly, was the first one to overhear your singing. He had come over to crash for a few hours after his latest doctor appointment and to work on an assignment for a University class. The bathroom door somehow had not fully latched when you closed it, cracking open while you were in the shower….and you started singing. Ivar sat stunned on the couch at the voice slipping out of the bathroom like a siren's song. He remained there, transfixed as you sang some song he had never heard but he could feel in his chest. Once you stopped singing and the shower turned off, he quickly jumped up and hobbled over to silently shut the door, slightly embarrassed by the idea of you catching him listening in to your shower singing.

Later that day after you headed out to work, Ivar asked Ubbe and Hvitserk if they had heard you sing yet. Both of them denied ever hearing you sing. When asked if he knew anything, Sigurd was upset, having asked you on multiple nights to go to a karaoke bar with him and some friends. You always refused by saying you sounded Iike a beached whale.

Ubbe was next to overhear. He was walking by the bathroom on the way to the kitchen when he heard your voice drifting from underneath the bathroom door. Feeling like a creeper but curiosity winning out, he pressed his ear to the bathroom door to listen better. To say he had been shocked was an understatement. Sure, he had heard Ivar praise your voice, but he figured his youngest brother was exaggerating. It made him wonder why you never sang in front of others.

A silent pact was made between the brothers that they would never share the information of your singing with anyone outside the four of them….and whenever you jumped in the shower, whoever was the closest would go and crack the bathroom door open so they could hear you better.

This time was no different.

Sigurd was closest, so after Ubbe paused the game, he jumped up and silently cracked open the door so your beautiful voice could flow out. The game picked back up but remained on mute so they could hear you. The first song you serenaded them with was Walk Me Home by Pink. Apparently, one of your new favorites since you sang it so often. Next was Someone Like You by Adele. By the third song, the brothers had abandoned the game and were solely focused on you and the raw emotion bleeding from your voice. This time you started to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.

Ubbe spoke up, keeping his voice quiet just in case you could hear them, however unlikely. "Has she said anything about her ex lately?"

"Not to me." Hvitserk answered first. "I thought she was doing fine."

"Just because she's not crying all the time doesn't mean she's fine." Ivar retorted harshly, never removing his eyes from the direction of the bathroom. After a moment, he got up and hobbled towards the bathroom.

"Ivar…. Ivar, what are you doing?" Ubbe hissed but was ignored.

As quiet as possible, Ivar walked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid; your singing managed to cover the sounds of his movement. As he rolled his head to the side, it was to find his brothers had followed him with varying expressions ranging from concern to amusement.

Normally you did not spend so long in the shower but today you decided to spoil yourself. You had been doing well all week but this morning you were scrolling through your Instagram and happened to stumble upon a picture of your ex with a new girl, smiling happily and kissing at a restaurant…. the day after you broke up. And seeing them together felt like it ripped a tear into the slowly healing pieces of your heart.

Instead of going out like you planned to do, you laid in bed all-day binge-watching movies and feeling like an idiot. So in the shower you took extra time pampering yourself, using a deep conditioner in your hair, shaving everywhere and just letting the hot water cascade down your skin and loosen the tense muscles.

At this point you were feeling a little better and decided it was best not to waste any more water. You turned the water off, running your hands down your body to get as much excess water off, before you reached for your towel. Grabbing the plush towel hanging on the rack, you quickly dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body before pulling the curtain back….

Only to shriek as you realized you were not alone in the bathroom.

"What? What are you guys doing?" You demanded, eyes frantically darting between the four brothers.

Ivar sat on the toilet lid; head tilted as he watched you with a peculiar expression on his face. Hvitserk leaned against the sink, eyes darting from your towel-clad body to the floor then back up. Ubbe and Sigurd stood in the doorway, both looking the least comfortable but still not moving.

"We, ah, we were…. well, we are concerned for you." Ubbe said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Concerned?" You asked incredulously.

Ivar ignored your question. "Is this about your ex? Want me to pay him a visit?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your singing. They were sad songs." Sigurd answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

Heat flooded your face. You dropped your head, staring at the bathroom floor as you clutched the towel closer to your body. Honestly, the idea of them hearing your singing was far more humiliating than them seeing you naked at this point. "You…. you heard me…. singing?"

"Y/n, are you OK? You know you can tell us anything." Hvitserk said, trying to meet your eye.

"Um, can…. can we talk about this when…. when I'm not naked?"

"Of course. Come on, brothers." Ubbe quickly agreed, tapping the door as if to signal. He and Sigurd walked away first. Only when you finally met Hvitserk's eye did he push off the sink and head out but not before giving you a flirty wink.

"Ivar…."

He slouched back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

"Oh gods, please, Ivar." You begged, almost on the verge of tears.

He stared at you a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

"Ok."

Appeased, he made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Once alone, you stepped out of the shower only to drop onto the toilet lid and place your head in your hands. Your chest heaved and your eyes stung as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Today was bad enough and now this. It had to be something out of a nightmare. Your own personal hell.

When you finally composed yourself, you quickly changed into your comfiest sweats and tank top. You wished you could make a run for your room, anything to avoid the impending conversation but you knew the brothers would follow, they were all stubborn and persistent when they wanted to be.

With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the living room. What hushed disagreement the brothers were clearly having abruptly ended when they noticed you. Awkwardly you remained standing, unsure where to sit. The only open spots were on the couch between Hvitserk and Ivar or one of the recliners as Ubbe sat in the other one. Sigurd reclined on the rocker gaming chair on the floor.

Averting your eyes, you started towards the open recliner only to have a strong arm snake around your waist as you passed by and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked as you suddenly found yourself perched on Ivar's lap. Somewhere you had certainly never been before.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face.

"Um, over there." You nodded your head towards the other open spot.

"No, you're sitting here now."

"Stop hogging her, brother." Hvitserk reached over and dragged you off Ivar. Somehow you ended up with your back against Hvitserk's side, his arm slung around you and your legs across Ivar's lap, him slowly running his hand up and down them.

Ubbe raised an eyebrow at the three of you. "Are you done yet?"

"I thought we were just fine but I guess Hvitty had other plans." Ivar snarked, rolling his eyes.

"We're good now." Hvitserk said with a cheesy smile, making you giggle.

"So how are you really doing, y/n?" Ubbe asked, staring at you with those knowing blue eyes.

"Um, I'm alright. Today was just…. rough." At the four questioning looks, you quickly explained about what you found this morning on Instagram.

Ivar slapped the armrest of the couch. "I'm beating his ass now and nothing you say can stop me."

You snagged his other hand that was still on your leg and clasped it, as if that alone could diminish his deadly intent. "Please don't. He's not worth it. I just…. I just want to move on. Ok?"

He grumbled, but eventually gripped your hand and gave it a single squeeze in acknowledgement.

Now here was the part that petrified you; but you needed to know.

"Um, how…. how long have…. was this your first time?" Your words stumbled out, making you cringe at how ineloquent it was.

"What are you talking about?" Sigurd drawled; one foot propped up so he slowly rocked in the gaming chair.

You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. You dropped your gaze, as you whispered your answer. "My….my singing."

"What? You sound bloody brilliant! The others have heard you more than me but you always sound amazing!" Sigurd exclaimed, a beaming smile on his face. "I don't know why you haven't gone out with me before! Oh! I'd love for you to try and sing in my band, we could use an amazing vocalist like you! Gods, we could get way more gigs with a beautiful woman like you upfront singing."

Soon as Sigurd started talking, you covered your face with your hands. The tears you managed to repress earlier flooded back. Your shoulders hunched over, cowering into yourself at the revelation. They had all heard you. Apparently more than just this one time. It was mortifying. Long ago you stopped singing in front of others, no longer able to face the ridicule, the degrading comments always thrown your way. And now, these brothers that you had become so close to…. if they said anything negative towards you right now, you were sure your heart would fully break and no lyric would ever pass your lips again.

Hvitserk shifted behind you, turning you so he could wrap both arms around your waist and place his cheek against the side of your head. "Y/n, talk to us."

You shook your head, the barely suppressed tears and poisoned words clogging your throat.

Abruptly, a pair of calloused hands grabbed yours, forcing them away from your face. You were immediately met by a pair of piercing blue eyes, only inches from your face.

"Whose ass am I killing now? Huh?" Ivar demanded in a low, menacing tone. Between his tone and the fury burning in his eyes, you knew he meant his question, and that sent a nervous chill down your spine.

"It's not…. it’s nothing."

"Bullshit." Ivar spat.

Hvitserk nuzzled your temple, his voice lighter but still with an edge of steel in it. "I agree with Ivar. Something happened."

Biting your bottom lip, you closed your eyes. There were a few things that were just too painful to talk about and this one, they had unknowingly stumbled upon.

"Was it your mother?"

Your eyes flew open, your head snapped over to stare at Ubbe in shock. He met your gaze unflinchingly, and somehow you knew he already figured at least part of it out. He accidentally overheard a phone conversation between you and your mother one time and once you got off the phone, he immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and promised you never had to see her again if you never wanted to, that they would take care of you. Of course, you cried all over him after he promised that.

Ubbe leaned forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, gaze still intent on you. "What did she do?"

"She…. she hated when I sang. Said I was just desperate for attention. That I needed to just shut up. That no one would want to listen to me anyway. If she ever caught me singing…. once she duct-taped my mouth shut."

You could hear the gasps at your confession, followed by a round of curses. Hvitserk pressed a kiss to your temple, tightening his hold on you. Ivar squeezed your hands, still holding them within his own.

Ubbe nodded as if not surprised. He ran a hand down his face and sighed before stealing your gaze once again. "I have a feeling she wasn't the only one to hurt you."

At this point, a silent tear trekked down your cheek. You sniffled, dropping your gaze down. "I had an ex who used to make fun of my singing. He used to say 'at least you're pretty'. When we would ride together listening to music, he would tell me to stop singing and 'leave it to the professionals'. At some point, it just….it was better to not sing in front of anyone. So I only sang in the shower cause I thought no one would hear me."

Hvitserk turned your head, looking into your eyes. "Baby, listen to me. Your singing is incredible. We all love listening to you sing. Please don't be embarrassed about this with us."

"I'd love for you to walk around the house singing, I could happily listen to that all day." Ubbe said, a tender smile on his lips.

"I second that!"

"Sig, you're only here on Sundays." Ubbe glanced over at his brother.

Sigurd shrugged. "So? I could listen to her sing all day. Maybe she should move in with me and actually be appreciated."

"No! You're not stealing her from us!" Hvitserk said, practically cradling you against him, like a puppy afraid to lose its favorite toy.

"It's not stealing if she wants to go!"

Ivar butted in. "I am more interested in this other shitty ex and mother...can I find them?"

"No, Ivar. You have to stop threatening people."

"Why?" He whined at you, tugged on your hands, your legs still across his lap. "You won't let me teach them a lesson so all I can do is threaten."

"Also sounds like you have terrible taste in guys. Anymore shitty exes we should know about?" Sigurd asked, rocking his chair.

You figured at this point you were spilling all your dirty secrets so what was one more. "Um, I was talking to this one guy but when he found out I moved in here, he called me a whore for moving in with two brothers and told me I was a waste of his time." You softly admitted, having made sure none of them ever heard about that after it happened.

For a moment there was dead silence then….

"I'm going to need his name right now." Ubbe said, malice dripping off every word.

"Yeah! Let's cut his tongue out! See what he says about that!" Ivar cheered.

You could not stop the laughter that came out. The idea that these brothers got so worked up over anyone that ever insulted or hurt you was both sweet and slightly infuriating, but mostly sweet. No one had ever cared about you as strongly as these four brothers.

"It's fine now. How about this? Next guy to hurt me, I promise I'll give you his name."

"No! I want to cut this asshole's tongue out. Maybe slap him with it after!" Ivar smiled with a pure predatory look.

"I think you should just date one of us." Sigurd shrugged, watching everyone with a smirk. "Then you know he'd treat you right."

"I like this idea." Hvitserk smiled, squeezing you lightly. "We would romance the hell out of you."

"You guys are being silly. I don't even know what romance would look like." You giggled at the absurd idea. All the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and could pick up any girl they wanted, why would they want you? Besides, your relationships were just platonic. "Is the interrogation over now? Want me to leave so you can get back to your game?"

"Nope, you're stuck here." Ivar said, leaning on you now so you were sandwiched between the two brothers.

Ubbe chuckled. "We've told you before, you are welcome to hang out with us. Why don't we put in a movie?"

After many arguments and some mild threats, a movie was finally chosen. You settled against Hvitserk, facing the TV, as you played with Ivar's hair, his head now in your lap.

As you watched the movie, you missed the silent conversation between the brothers happening around you. It was decided that your next boyfriend would certainly be one of them and in the meantime, they were all going to romance the hell out of you and make sure you understood how important and incredible you are.

Starting with making sure you sang whenever you wanted.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ivars heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson #sigurd #sigurd ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #vikings imagine #modern vikings #roommates #mzwrites

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years ago

Text

Lying That You Love Me | myg (m)

Summary - Upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running. You never could have imagined Min Yoongi would be the one to put your pieces back together, but there is always more than meets the eye.

Word Count - 10.5k

Pairing - Yoongi x reader

Genre - smut, minor angst

Warnings - mentions of broken family, family issues, mentions of homelessness, softdom!yoongi, dirty talk, cream pie, unprotected sex, oral (female)

a/n - Part of the Tatted Bangtan Series! 💕 Sorry it’s soooo late, I sprained my wrist lol. Hope you enjoy now that it’s finally here! Huge thanks to @nervouskiwi , @sunshinekims , and @excusemin for beta reading. 💕

You know those people you just instantly connect with? You hear their laugh one time and suddenly you feel more connected to a stranger than a friend you've known your whole life? Something in their smile that resonates deep within your soul, that somehow, on some level (whether it be friends or lovers or a kind stranger who changed your life in passing only to never meet again) you are just... meant to find each other.

Those people who feel like sunshine on your cloudy days? The ones who wrap you in warmth and make your heart say "Ah, yes, so this is what home is supposed to feel like. This is what it means to belong. This is what it means to be myself, unafraid."

Somehow, amidst all the chaos and the heartbreak and the hurt, you find yourself cocooned in safety, building your own version of home with these strangers who feel like family; and it's good. And sometimes your heart beats so fast and your chest feels so tight and you feel like you just can't breathe, so you reach out a hand into the dark unknown and you're met with arms wrapping around you and holding you together. Holding you until all your broken pieces can be glued back together, one by one.

Min Yoongi was one of those people.

Now, upon first glance, no one would assume Min Yoongi would be the type to put someone back together. He looked more like someone who was one wrong look away from tearing you to shreds. If his icy cold stare and stoic expressions weren’t enough to spook most people away, then the body covered in piercings and tattoos usually sent them running.

But you… you were a little different. You’d taken one look at the man covered in intricate inky designs and your face had lit up with glee. A few hours prior to meeting Yoongi, you’d been sitting in your car, reclined back with your phone, leeching off of McDonald’s free wifi for the 11th night in a row. Your back ached, your stomach growled, and your foot was one more cramp away from being the end of you. The tiny cabin of your car was no place for you to live.

You scrolled through rental listings, looking for the cheapest option that didn’t look like it popped straight out of a horror movie. Your budget was low, being recently thrown out by your father after a fight about you dropping out of college. Your father was convinced you couldn’t survive on your own and you wanted to prove him wrong.

Finally stumbling upon a small 2 bedroom apartment on the west side of town leasing out the second bedroom, you clicked on the listing. There was no way you’d be able to afford your own apartment in a safe area, so you’d ended up expanding your search to find someone looking for a roommate. You zoomed in on the pictures provided, though there were few, it looked pretty nice. You scrolled down and read the description.

Single male, 27, searching for a roommate. You pay half the rent and utilities. Rent is $950 and utilities usually range about $300 a month, give or take. Pets welcome, but there is a deposit with the apartment complex and a monthly fee. My friend (and ex roommate) recently moved in with his long-time girlfriend and I need someone to help with expenses. Serious inquiries only. Contact for more info. 555-555-1382.

You quickly typed the number into your phone and texted the man to set up a time to view the apartment, but if you were being honest with yourself, you were already sold. This was the cleanest looking unit you’d seen, on a safe side of town, and it was more affordable than anything else you were going to get that was half as nice.

The man was quick with responses and very polite, and the two of you agreed to meet that evening at 4pm. You were absolutely giddy, a petty smirk on your face as you imagined telling your father that you indeed weren’t coming home, tail between your legs. You would not allow him to dictate your life anymore.

3:30 rolled around and you made your way over to the area the apartment was listed in, not wanting to be late. The apartment was part of a large building that was clearly a few years old but still in good shape. You looked around, noting that the nearby houses were well-worn but not worn down. It looked like a good area, and based on your Trulia searches, the crime was low here.

You smiled from your parking space and waited until 3:55 to walk up to the buzzer, hitting the button for apartment 5D which had Min Yoongi listed as a resident. Yoongi. You liked that name. You grinned when a deep voice came over the speaker, asking who was there.

“It’s Y/N, we have a 4pm appointment for me to see the apartment?” you answered back cheerily.

“Oh, yes, come on up.” before he was even done speaking, you heard the door click as he unlocked it.

You pulled open the heavy door and began making your way up the staircase, glancing around for the correct apartment. Near the end of the hallway, you finally spotted your destination, nestled in the corner by a large window that looked out to the rest of the apartment complex. There was a playground and a tennis court, without a net, but you didn’t really care.

You gently knocked against the wooden door, the only one without some form of decoration on the outside and waited for the man to appear and let you inside. You weren’t sure what kind of person you expected to see on the other side of the wooden door; you really hadn’t given it much thought. You were entirely unprepared however, to see the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on swinging the door open and dusting his hands on his worn jeans before flicking his onyx gaze up to meet yours, pinning you to your spot.

You snapped out of your haze and allowed your eyes to roam over his features, from his button nose to his full lips, to his toned arms, covered with decorative tattoos, beautiful inky designs trailing from his knuckles all the way up his veiny forearms, past his biceps, and disappearing into the sleeve of his t shirt. You sucked in a breath, noticing the eyebrow ring and multiple ear piercings.

“Y/N, nice to meet you. I’m Yoongi.” he smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth, something shiny catching the light when his tongue darted out to wet his lips. A tongue ring.

A shiver ran through your body but you reached out your hand to shake his extended one. His large hand seemed to engulf yours, the veins prominent and a little distracting. Your face lit up in a grin, knowing that if your dad took one look at this man, he’d surely lose his mind.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Yoongi, thank you for meeting me on such short notice!” you smiled, allowing your hand to slip from his grasp and biting back the whine at the loss of contact.

“Come on in, have a look around. Like I said in the ad, my friend moved in with his girlfriend and left me to fend for myself. He did have the smaller bedroom but if that’s an issue, we can switch, if you’re interested that is.” he chuckled nervously, reaching his arm up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Oh, I am interested.” you giggled, looking around the spacey living room, which had an open concept that led into a small kitchen, but it looked like it had decent counter space.

“Oh! This is the kitchen…” Yoongi began, leading you over to get a better look after seeing where your eyes were wandering.

“It’s very roomy.” you noted with a smile.

“Jin did most of the cooking, but I helped out sometimes and we both fit in here pretty easily without getting in each other’s way.” he explained.

“Ooh, you cook?” you turned your gaze to him and watched as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“A little.” he admitted.

“Nice. Me too.” you grinned.

“Cool.” he grinned, his smile was the cutest thing you’d ever seen, the best way you could describe it was… gummy. Sweet. Warm.

Yoongi led you on a tour of the rest of the house, showing you your future bedroom, which was furnished since his previous roommate hadn’t needed to take his bed with him, his bedroom, the bathroom you’d share, and the small laundry unit in the hallway, hidden behind a closet-like door. Nice. In-unit laundry was a definite plus.

The apartment wasn’t super spacious, the bedrooms were on the smaller side, but the living room and kitchen were nice sizes, and there was in-unit laundry, and Yoongi seemed like a very clean, respectful individual. You were sold before you’d walked in, but now you were over the moon about the small patch of paradise you’d stumbled upon.

“Is there a deposit required? Or just first and last month's rent?” you asked Yoongi, who’d taken a seat across from you at the table.

“Oh, just the first month’s rent is fine. I’m not like a landlord or anything.” he said, shooting you a playful smile.

“Okay. Do you want a check or…?” you questioned. “I mean, if you’re willing to let me lease with you.”

“Of course! Check, cash, money order. I really don’t have a preference. If you want a paper trail with the office, we can do a check or money order.” he smiled.

You grinned back at the sheepish man across from you, his eyes shining with excitement. You were absolutely psyched to sleep in a real bed again, so tired of the worn leather seats in your car. Thank goodness it wasn’t summer so your skin wasn’t sticking to the material, but still. It wasn’t exactly a preferred sleeping space.

You ended up going to the ATM and giving Yoongi cash for the first month after adding your name to the lease just before the rental office closed. You both pitched in on a celebratory pizza and ate in the living room. You were surprised the rental office didn’t have to run a background check or something, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to sleep in the apartment the same day you’d first laid eyes on it, but you weren’t complaining.

You stayed up with Yoongi until nearly 2am talking, drinking, laughing, and getting to know each other. He loved watching WWE, you loved watching K-dramas, he liked pineapple on his pizza and you thought that was basically blasphemy. Yoongi had braces growing up, had an older brother, preferred staying indoors to going out, and had a nasty habit he couldn’t seem to shake of biting his nails.

Yoongi was funny and warm and inviting. Though he seemed cold on the outside, he was actually very attentive and caring, always offering to refill your drink when he stood up, offering you a spare blanket if you looked cold, and making sure you felt comfortable as possible in your new home. You blamed it on the alcohol, but ended up getting way too personal too fast, telling Yoongi about why you’d moved in to begin with.

“... and he’s so condescending and judgemental, like he would hate your tattoos and immediately label you a delinquent just based on that alone.” you took a breath after rambling on for a few minutes, letting out your frustration for your situation.

“Wow, that’s… a lot,” Yoongi shook his head sympathetically, “it’s your life, you should do what makes you happy. It’s not his place to control everything you do.”

“He always has to be right, it’s exhausting.” you sighed.

“Well hey, bright side, you’re here now, and you’re free to be who you want and do whatever your heart desires. I fully support you.” Yoongi smiled at you and your heart seemed to grow three sizes.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Do you have anything you need washed?” you asked Yoongi, gesturing to the washing machine that wasn’t even half full.

“Don’t you have any more clothes than that?” Yoongi asked.

For weeks, you’d been cycling the same three outfits you’d been able to bring with you in a small backpack when you’d left home.You’d thought about going back home to get the rest of your things, but you really didn’t want to face your father. You weren’t scared of him, not at all. In fact, you’d love to rub it in his face that you hadn’t failed as he’d expected you to do. You just didn’t want to deal with him yet.

Being around Yoongi, having the freedom to be yourself and being so wholly accepted for exactly who you were was intoxicating, and you weren’t ready to go back into that suffocating environment full of judgement and expectations, even for a short time. You were strong and resilient, but you also knew that your family issues were a sore spot for you.

“I do at my parents house. I just haven’t had a chance to go get my stuff.” you shrugged, starting the washer.

“You haven’t had a chance? Between lounging around watching Netflix and binge eating takeout?” Yoongi chuckled, leaning up against the wall and regarding you with a curious look.

“I’ve had time,” you emphasize with a sigh, “I just… I’m not ready to go there alone.”

“What if you weren’t alone?”

You looked up to meet Yoongi’s gaze in surprise, a supportive smile playing on his soft lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your chest filling with hope.

“If you want, I can go with you?” he offered.

“Really? You’d do that?” you tried to keep the astonishment out of your voice in an attempt to not look as pathetic and weak as you felt.

“Yeah, we can take my car, it’s bigger than yours anyway.” he shrugged, pushing himself off the wall and walking closer to you.

“Have I told you lately that you’re amazing?” you grinned, reaching up to hug him.

Yoongi was used to your affectionate nature, but sometimes it still caught him off guard, as he wasn’t an affectionate person. He wanted to be, he just wasn’t always comfortable using physical affection. He froze for a moment, but quickly regained his composure and wrapped his arms around your torso to return your hug.

“Yes, but feel free to remind me anytime. My fragile ego needs it.” he joked, poking your side playfully.

You released him from your hold with a light chuckle, stepping back and grinning up at him. He coughed and looked down to hide his shy smile from your view.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait, right now?” you gasped, eyes wide.

“Do you have other plans?” he questioned with a raised brow.

“Well, no… but I-” you began but Yoongi sent you a look that had you slipping on your shoes and following him out the door.

Yoongi smirked to himself at how easily you caved into him with just a stern look, unlocking the car and ushering you in before settling in the driver's seat and starting the engine. You couldn’t stop bouncing your leg from nerves, and Yoongi glanced your way every so often before gently placing his large hand on your knee for comfort. Except it did little to comfort you, having his veiny hands on your body only sent your heart into overdrive and caused your breathing to become that much shallower. You gave him an A for effort though.

“It’s going to be okay, I’m right here,” he soothed, “I’ve got your back.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” you smiled appreciatively, placing your hand on top of his for a moment before looking out the window, watching the trees fly by as you got closer to your parents house.

You hadn’t alerted your parents that you’d be coming, part of you hoping they wouldn’t be home and you could use the spare key to get your things and get out without having to interact with your father.

When the GPS announced you were one turn away, your hopes were crushed into a fine powder as you finally looked up and shrank back into your seat when you saw both of your parents’ vehicles occupying the driveway. Yoongi pulled in behind your mom’s car and cut the engine, turning to look at you. You met his gaze with your panicked one and he motioned for you to breathe with him, taking a few deep breaths and guiding you to calm yourself.

“You got this. You ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” you sighed, stepping out of his car and meeting him before walking to the front door.

You gripped his hand tightly, and Yoongi looked down at your conjoined hands in surprise but didn’t say anything, realizing that you needed the support.He squeezed your hand gently before rapping softly on the door. Your whole body tensed when you heard the lock click and Yoongi gave your hand another encouraging squeeze. The door swung open and your mother’s face was revealed, causing the hole in your chest to clench.

“Y/N!” she gasped, her eyes trailing along your form, down to your hands, then up Yoongi’s arms to his face, her expression one of astonishment.

“Hi, mom.” you coughed awkwardly.

“Y/N’s here?” you heard from behind her, the smug voice of your father grating against your ears. “Our little baby came home to admit we were right?”

His grinning face came into your view, standing just behind your mother, his smirk immediately falling once he laid eyes on Yoongi.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“This is Yoongi, he’s my-” you began.

“Are you dating this man?” your father interrupted, sounding panicked.

Your eyes flitted from your mom’s face to your dad’s, turning red with frustration. He had always hated people with tattoos, and you’d warned Yoongi about this. You didn’t think he’d get this worked up about it, and suddenly an idea popped in your head, and just as Yoongi was about to argue that you weren’t dating amidst your silence, you spoke up.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” you said quickly, squeezing Yoongi’s hand in an attempt to beg him to go along with it.

Yoongi’s breath caught and he coughed into his elbow uncomfortably, but gave a sheepish grin when he recovered, letting go of your hand and extending his out to your parents.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m Min Yoongi.”

Your mother stared at his hand hanging in the air like it was a foreign object before she collected herself, gingerly taking his hand in hers. Your father followed suit, his expression hard.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi.” your mom smiled, warming up to Yoongi’s polite aura.

“I’m very honored to finally meet you. I see where Y/N gets her pretty eyes from.” Yoongi smiled, causing your mom to turn bashful and swat at him playfully.

Your dad hadn’t budged an inch, his hard gaze focused on the man at your side, scrutinizing and unwelcoming. His eyes wandered over Yoongi’s plethora of tattoos, many piercings, and ripped jeans. He made a face of distaste before turning his gaze to you.

“What are you doing here?” he wondered.

“We’re getting some of my stuff to take back home.” you explained.

“Home? You live with this man?!” you dad guffawed.

“Yes, we live together.” Yoongi supplied for you, stepping closer to you and wrapping an arm around you, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

He mostly wanted to be a shield for you against your father, as he could tell you were starting to shrink in on yourself, and he wanted to offer you a little more strength. You smiled up at him, hoping your eyes showed your thankfulness.

“Absolutely not, young lady. I won’t permit it.” your father hissed.

“With all due respect, you don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m an adult, and you kicked me out.” you shrugged, using your best acting skills to appear nonchalant.Yoongi felt your body shivering slightly against his.

“I- You-” your dad fumed.

“Why don’t we grab your clothes and come back for the rest when everyone has calmed down a little?” Yoongi offered quietly in your ear.

You nodded, pulling him along with you to your old bedroom. You felt your dad’s piercing gaze follow you down the hallway, but you ignored it. You grabbed some clothes and a few other things, throwing them in a decorative tote you’d once used to house scrapbooking supplies. Yoongi took the tote from you and led the way back out of the house, your hand clutching the back of his shirt like a safety blanket, the other arm filled with more clothes.

Your mom watched you quietly, with a sullen expression, seeming to try and express her apologies through her eyes while your dad seethed from his recliner, refusing to look at you. You sighed, taking a look around the house you used to call home before announcing your departure and waving goodbye, following Yoongi out the front door.

Once you’d placed the things in the back of the car and sat in the passenger seat, your body deflated. Yoongi began driving, to get you out of the line of sight of your parents in case you broke down, so they wouldn’t see.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry I dragged you into that. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just- I saw his face and I wanted to-” you sighed, struggling to explain the reason behind your split second decision to lie about the nature of your relationship.

“I understand.”

“You’re not mad?” you looked over at him in surprise.

“No. I can see the power dynamic in that house. Your family clearly has some issues they need to work out. I’m not mad.” he explained.

“I don’t deserve you,” you sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, “you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”

“Dang, that bar is set pretty low, Y/N.” he joked.

You slapped his arm playfully with a grin lighting up your face, suddenly feeling much lighter than you had moments ago.

“How about I pay for pizza tonight as a thank you?” you offered, gazing up at him.

“As long as there’s pineapple on it.” he smirked.

“Half and half.”

Seasons changed, the air turned colder, the leaves on the trees transitioning from vibrant green to deep golden yellows and reds before fading away altogether as the harsh winter breeze bagan to set in. Each new day, you learned more about Yoongi, and the two of you grew closer. Yoongi was respectful of your space and time. He would notice when you were having a bad day and do little things you almost didn’t notice to help you out and reduce your stress. He’d pick up your favorite tea on his way home from work or invite you to watch a movie you knew he wouldn’t have watched on his own.

You tried to show him the same level of respect, like making sure there was fresh coffee for him in the morning, or packing his lunch when he was running late. The more time you spent with Yoongi, the more you adored him. Possibly a little too much… You’d known from the moment you laid eyes on him that he was gorgeous, but you didn’t think it would be so distracting.

Oftentimes, you’d find yourself staring at the way Yoongi’s lips moved while he talked, or watching the way his muscles flexed while he wrote. Your breath would hitch when your bodies brushed against each other in the hallway or maneuvering around the kitchen together. You’d try to slip past him and his hands would reflexively find your hips to steady you and guide you past him. Sparks would shoot through your veins any time his skin touched yours, a warm tingle left wherever his touch had been.

Your eyes would linger a second too long when he’d come out of the bathroom in a towel, or when he’d stretch during your frequent binge watching sessions, the hem of his shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of gorgeous ivory skin. Your mouth would water on the occasions when his hip tattoo would be revealed if his sweats hung a little too low. Sometimes you swore he was doing it on purpose, when you’d look up to find him watching you with an amused expression and you’d tear your eyes away as your cheeks filled with heat.

Yoongi never called you out for gawking at him, he’d simply raise an eyebrow and his delicious lips would turn up in an amused smirk. You weren’t the only one who got caught staring though. You noticed his eyes on you when you would bend over to grab a water from the fridge, or his gaze trailing down your neck towards your breasts when you’d come home sweaty from a run. You pretended not to notice, but you saw the way his eyes would linger.

You danced around each other like that, somehow simultaneously completely at ease and growing closer with each passing day but incredibly bothered with tension and desire. Or perhaps it was all in your head, wishful thinking on your part. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the amount of times Yoongi’s name would fall from your lips in pathetic whimpers while you attempted to keep quiet whilst touching yourself under the covers in your room.

You tried to act like nothing had changed, which is why when Yoongi invited you to watch a movie with him, you’d snuggled up to him on the couch, just like always, a thick blanket wrapping the two of you in warmth. Your head rested on his shoulder and his hand on your knee, the heat from his skin on yours causing other areas of your anatomy to warm up as well. It was hard paying attention to the screen when you could feel the warmth of his skin seeping through your jeans where his hand met your knee but you did your best.

You watched as the main characters began taking their clothes off and tensed up awkwardly, looking up at Yoongi to ask if he wanted anything to drink… at the same time he’d glanced down to ask if you wanted more popcorn. Your faces were mere centimeters away, you could feel his hot breath ghosting against your lips, your gazes locked. Your heart skipped a beat and time seemed to slow, and you could have sworn he’d begun leaning in, but a loud crash in the movie startled you both out of your moment, and you’d pulled away with an awkward cough.

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact, and you’d stood up, using his leg as leverage, but your hand slipped and glided up his thigh, almost making contact with his crotch. You wretched your hand away like you’d been burned and mumbled something about a refill before making a beeline for the kitchen. Hand over your heart, free hand resting on the counter to hold yourself up while you struggled to regulate your heartbeat, you closed your eyes and took deep breaths.

Was Yoongi about to kiss you? Surely not, but the way your eyes had connected, the sparks his intense gaze had sent down your spine… you shivered. You refilled your water and grabbed a new drink for Yoongi before making your way back to the living room, sitting a few inches from him and extending out your offering to him, which he took with a quiet “thanks.”

The air was thick and uncomfortable, the lingering tension from the almost-kiss nearly suffocating the both of you. You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone started ringing, a FaceTime call from your mom. You sat up and sent a panicked look towards Yoongi, who glanced at the screen before scooting closer to you, and pressing the answer button.

“Hi mom!”

“Hello, love. Oh. I see Yoongi is with you. Hello, Yoongi.” she smiled politely.

“Hello, ma’am.”

“Y/N, I packed up some more of your stuff, I felt awful for how the other day went and I wanted to apologize. I talked to your father as well, and… you know how he is. I want to support you and if Yoongi makes you happy, I want to get to know him. I miss you.” she rambled, clearly nervous.

“Oh mom… thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“I do have to admit though, I was very surprised that you two were together, it just seemed so… unexpected. You usually go for a more clean cut kind of guy…”

“Well, you know what they say, opposites attract.” Yoongi supplied with a charming smile after sensing your body stiffen.

“That they do!” your mom agreed with a giggle, “it just didn’t seem real at first, I suppose.”

You shot Yoongi a panicked glance out of the frame of the camera, silently begging him to turn up the PDA. His lip was tucked between his teeth in nervousness, but he let it slide free and steeled himself before leaning in and brushing a gentle kiss to your cheek. Which would’ve been a great plan, had that not been the exact moment you’d decided to turn your head to look at him.

His lips met yours for the briefest moment, the most tender ghost of a touch, but it lit your insides aflame. Your heart pounded erratically, your chest tightening, and the air seeming to have been stolen from your lungs. Your arm holding your phone grew slack, and you dropped it onto the couch cushion, your hand instinctively placing itself upon Yoongi’s firm chest. The kiss lasted mere seconds, but with the way time stilled around you, it might as well have been hours. His soft lips pressed so delicately to yours suspended gravity itself, and you were floating on cloud nine.

“Y/N? Hello?”

The two of you broke apart in shock, springing away from each other like magnets with the same charge, eyes wide and breathing heavy as you stared at one another. Moments passed with your heartbeat pounding in your ear like a drum before you came to your senses and picked your phone up.

“Sorry mom. Can I call you back?”

“Oh sure, love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

Yoongi had taken your momentary distraction as an excuse to escape to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room with wide eyes and fingertips pressed to your lips in shock. Your lips had barely touched and it felt like your worlds had collided, two missing pieces finally coming together. And it was terrifying, so you decided not to dwell on it, you’d deal with it when the time came.

That didn’t stop you from replaying the moment in your head for the rest of the night, however. Laying in your bed with Yoongi just one wall away, you wondered if he was thinking about the kiss, if he was thinking about you too. Shoving the hopeful thoughts from your mind, you let yourself drift to sleep.

You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to spend the holiday with your family, but your mother’s persistent guilt trip over the past few weeks had worn your resistance thin. Yoongi’s family was back in Korea so he didn’t have any other plans, usually opting to spend Christmas alone with a bottle of bourbon and leftover takeout. He’d agreed to be your buffer between yourself and your father and accompany you to the hellscape that was your old home.

Snow had already begun to softly drift from the skies, so Yoongi had reminded you about ten times to dress warm so you didn’t catch a cold. Upon the 8th reminder, you’d snarkily shot back “yes daddy.” and rolled your eyes, stomping off to pull on your gloves. Yoongi had frozen in place, jaw slack as his eyes bored into the back of your head. You paid him no mind, wrapping a scarf around your neck and tucking it into your coat before pulling on your hat.

“Are you coming?” you asked, your eyes warily running along Yoongi’s rigid body as he stood there with his eyes closed taking deep breaths.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you down there.” he tossed you the keys so you could unlock the car he’d started a few minutes beforehand, making sure it was warmed up.

You trudged down to the car, dragging your purse and the pie you were meant to bring to the occasion, sliding into Yoongi’s passenger seat and placing your hands against the vents for the warm air. A few minutes later, Yoongi joined you, much more relaxed than before. You sent him a hopeful smile and rested your hand on his knee.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course. I’ve got your back.” he shrugged, backing out of the space carefully.

You watched the scenery as Yoongi drove, noting how the snow had dusted the trees with a beautiful blanket, making everything brighter, almost as if it sparkled. You loved the snow as a kid and you loved it still, a fond nostalgia settling in your chest until you noticed you were getting closer to your parents house. Your grip returned on Yoongi’s knee and he tensed a bit before placing his free hand on top of yours.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m right here,” he soothed, then wiggled his eyebrows playfully “plus your mom approves of your boyfriend now.”

“She loves you more than me now.” you pouted.

“Well, I am pretty irresistible.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” you threw back.

“Don’t think I don’t notice you checking me out, babe.” he smirked, emphasizing the last word as you both walked up to the front door, Yoongi’s hand reaching out to knock gently.

“Shut up.” you crossed your arms defiantly.

Yoongi poked at your side, almost making you drop your pie, but he saved it at the last minute by reaching out and grabbing it from you. This caused his face to be just inches from yours and your eyes locked for a moment and you swear time stopped. Your heart was pounding in your chest as his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips momentarily, and you sucked in a breath in anticipation. It might have been your imagination, but Yoongi seemed to get a little closer to your parted, waiting lips before your mom opened the door. The two of you sprung apart like you’d been caught at a crime scene.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” your mom giggled, sending you a playful wink before beckoning you inside.

You avoided eye contact with Yoongi and tried to take steady breaths to calm your racing heart, your mind going a mile a minute. Was he about to kiss you? Surely not. You were play dating, and no one was watching. Did he want to kiss you? Your cheeks were on fire and you were honestly a little riled up, pressing your thighs together discreetly. You handed your mom the pie, which she sliced and set on the table.

“Merry Christmas, mom. Where’s dad?”

“Oh he’s taking a nap. Yoongi, come over here! I want to get a picture of you two together!” your mom grinned.

“What are you, best friends now? You guys video chat at least once a week.” you whined.

Your mom waved you off and held her camera up while Yoongi stood beside you, giving you plenty of room.

“Scoot closer. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, not awkward preteens.” your mom huffed.

Yoongi stepped closer and put an arm around your shoulder, leaning in and smiling for the camera. You heard the shutter go off a few times, attempting to pull away.

“Wait. Let’s get one of you kissing his cheek, Y/N!” your mom gushed.

“Moooooom.”

“Do it.” she chided.

You sighed and glanced up at Yoongi in silent apology, but he only lent over and offered you his cheek. You gently pressed your lips to it, feeling the skin tingle where it met his. The tips of Yoongi’s ears were suspiciously pink, but you paid it no mind. He was probably uncomfortable. Your mom snapped a few pictures and smiled to herself.

“You two act like you’ve never touched each other.” she commented offhandedly while turning around to place her phone on the charger.

“Yoongi’s not a fan of PDA.” you covered smoothly.

“When I was your age my man couldn’t keep his hands off of me.” she shrugged.

“MOM!”

“What? It’s true. Young men always have a one track mind.”

You covered your face with your hands, and your mom laughed. Yoongi wrapped his arms around you from behind, shielding you with his body.

“Don’t be shy babe. I just wanted to be respectful around your mom but she doesn’t seem to care.” he spoke, allowing his lips to graze along the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run through your body.

Yoongi smirked and kissed your cheek before letting you go, standing up straighter. You glanced where he was staring and your dad was making his way down the hall to join everyone.

“Merry Christmas, dad.” you said politely.

“Merry Christmas.” he responded, his tone a little stiff and uncomfortable.

He wasn’t showing clear distaste for you or Yoongi, so you took it as a win. Your mom must have had a talk with him. You silently thanked her and took your seat beside Yoongi at the table. Dinner was pretty uneventful, light small talk that your father barely participated in and Yoongi relentlessly complimenting your mom on her cooking skills, telling her how delicious the food was and how he needed the recipes.

After dinner, you all sat around the tree and opened gifts, your father having gifted your mother a lovely pearl necklace, your mother giving your father a new watch. You’d gifted your mom a foot massager that looked like slippers you’d seen at the mall, and your father a new set of tools, knowing his were beginning to wear. You’d gifted Yoongi a gift card to his favorite store at the mall, and he’d given you a beautiful bracelet he saw you eyeing a few weeks back.

The last gift to be opened had been a pair of matching couple’s pajamas for you and Yoongi, a red and white plaid design that was actually kind of cute. Your mom made you hold them up and take a picture together, ignoring your protests that she had taken plenty of pictures beforehand. Packing everything up and getting ready to go, you looked up between your parents and sighed contentedly.

“This was nice, getting along,” you smiled at your mom, standing up and dusting off your skirt, “we’ll be sure to visit soon.”

Your mom leaned in for a hug from both of you while your dad stood silently off to the side, hands at his sides, fingers twitching slightly like he was unsure if he should lean in as well or not. Swallowing your pride because it was Christmas, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him. He gently patted your back a few times before stepping back.

“See you around, dad. Merry Christmas.” you spoke softly.

“Merry Christmas.” he repeated, looking away uncomfortably.

You sighed and took Yoongi’s hand in your own, gazing up at him in a silent question. He smiled and pulled you towards the door. The second he opened the entrance, snow blew into the living room from the force of the wind, and Yoongi quickly shut the door, having to put in more strength than usual with how hard the wind was blowing.

“Wow, it’s really coming down hard out there.” your mom commented, eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Does your vehicle have four wheel drive?” your dad asked.

“Um… no.” Yoongi scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh there is no way I’m letting you drive in this!” your mother gasped.

“Mom, we have to go home. I’m sure we can drive slow.” you reasoned, though your nerves about the weather were grating at you.

“Absolutely not. You’ll stay here.” she commanded.

“YN… your mom is probably right. It looks pretty bad out there. I don’t think it would be safe…” Yoongi said quietly.

You sighed, resigning to your fate and nodded, setting your purse back on the coat rack and removing your jacket. Yoongi followed suit, shedding his coat and hanging it up, smiling apologetically in your direction. Your father had already retreated back to his bedroom to clean up for the night.

“Are the spare blankets still in the hall closet?” you asked your mom.

“Yes, why?” she wondered.

“I was going to grab one, Yoongi or I will probably be sleeping on the couch.”

“That couch is not comfortable enough to sleep on. It’s not like I don’t know you sleep together at home.” she scoffed.

Your cheeks lit up brighter than the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room and you didn’t dare look at Yoongi. Your mom laughed at your reaction, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall.

“Goodnight, see you in the morning.” she called over her shoulder.

The two of you stood there silently for a moment before you coughed and gestured for him to follow you to your old bedroom. Most of your stuff had been taken to your apartment by that point, so it was mostly just your old bed and an empty dresser with a lamp on it. You glanced down at the full sized bed, which had enough room for the two of you, but barely enough to ensure that you wouldn’t end up touching.

“Do you care which side?” you wondered, finally looking up to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

“No, it doesn’t matter to me.” he shrugged.

“Okay. You can go change first.” you offered.

Yoongi nodded and disappeared down the hallway to change into the pajamas your mother had gifted the both of you previously in the night. You decided to go ahead and rush through changing while Yoongi was gone, slipping on the matching pair and crawling into bed. The two of you laid straight on your backs, staring at the ceiling for a while.

“I’m sorry about this.” you mumbled quietly.

“It’s okay, really.”

You didn’t remember falling asleep so soon, but you woke up to a pitch black room with something warm and firm pressed up against your back. You snuggled closer to the warmth in the freezing room and were met with a low groan and something a solid pressing against your backside.

“Nnnngh.” Yoongi whined, half-asleep, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you flush against him.

You froze, trying not to rub against Yoongi’s erection that was pressing into your ass, but that didn’t stop the shiver from traveling through your body. With great effort, you managed to turn yourself around in Yoongi’s arms so you were facing him, watching his serene facial expressions in his slumber.

Yoongi really was a beautiful man. You watched him take slow, steady breaths, his face illuminated by the moonlight trickling in between the blinds. You wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, but you didn’t dare in case you woke him.

His body shuffled closer to yours once more, his arms tightening around you until your noses were nearly touching and you had to hold in a gasp. There was no way this would be happening if Yoongi had been conscious, and you weren’t sure if you should let him sleep or alert him to what he was doing. You couldn’t help being slightly elated at the situation though, being this close to Yoongi and being able to study his features without fear of looking weird, and the way his groin felt pressed against your lower stomach wasn’t something you’d complain about either.

You decided you should probably stop taking advantage of his unconscious state and attempted to climb over him to get out of bed without disturbing him. Just as you’d swung your leg over his body, he turned in his sleep, flipping onto his back, effectively knocking you off balance until you landed atop his chest, your legs straddling his hips.

You glanced up at his face and your eyes met, faces mirroring expressions of shock. You were both frozen in place for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. You snapped out of it and tried to climb off of Yoongi’s hips, just as Yoongi tried to sit up, so all the two of you accomplished was grinding your core against Yoongi’s erection. Yoongi let out a strangled moan, reaching out to grab your hips to hold you still.

His fingers gripped the skin of your hips where your shirt had ridden up, and his touch burned in the best way. You fought back a whimper at the delicious feeling, your hips stilling in his iron grasp. The air in the room changed, getting thicker. You swore you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Your racing heart skipped a beat as Yoongi’s eyes traveled down your body until they rested where your core met his length. He shivered. You gulped. Once again, you attempted to flee your current position.

“Please- don’t move,” Yoongi whined, almost desperately, “you’re making it worse.”

“I know I’m irresistible.” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

“You really are.”

Your brows rose in surprise at the earnest tone he spoke in, his voice bordering desperate. Your mouth slightly agape, you searched his eyes for confirmation he wasn’t joking. He smirked and sat up, holding you against him as his lips ghosted along your neck, barely brushing against your skin. His hot breath fanning against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your sides almost demandingly, and he let out a low, animalistic growl.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me… how much you tempt me. I see the way you look at me, the way your eyes linger. You’re anything but subtle. I’ve tried so hard to hold back… If we weren’t at your parents house, I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget your name…” Yoongi’s voice was low and quiet, and you let out an involuntary whimper at his words, causing his eyes to darken and a smirk to play on his pretty lips, “but maybe you’d like that, maybe you want them to hear, you want them to know what a dirty slut you can be, wanna show them who you belong to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby girl?” he purred, rocking his hips up into yours, letting his rock-hard member drag deliciously against your covered folds.

“Oh fuck… yes.” you whimpered, all sense of dignity flying out the window at his dirty words.

“Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” he groaned, using his hands to guide your hips along his length.

“Me too.” you whimpered, falling forward and placing your hands on the defined planes of his chest, feeling it rise and fall as quickly as yours.

You allowed your hands to wander underneath his sleep shirt, feeling his warm skin against your own, slowly dragging your digits along his torso and teasingly letting your nails scrape gently against his nipples. Yoongi watched with rapt attention as you explored his body, relishing in the way you attempted to memorize every inch your eyes could devour.

His fingers dug into your hips when you flicked your thumb over his nipple, and you smiled innocently before dragging your hands down to the waistband of his pajama pants, gently lifting the elastic and letting it snap back against his skin, causing him to buck his hips up into yours. His hands traveled up your hips to grip the hem of your shirt, pausing and meeting your gaze to make sure you were alright, and you nodded, placing your hands on his and guiding them to remove the fabric, revealing your bare breasts underneath. Yoongi sucked in a breath, a low whine escaping as he released it.

His hands immediately found purchase on your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolling your hardened nipple. You let your head fall back as electricity shot straight to your core at his actions. You felt him move below you, sitting up in order to take one of your pert nipples into his waiting mouth. His warm tongue worked against the sensitive bud, alternating between licking and sucking while he worked the neglected nipple between his fingers. Your breathing grew shallower, your whines needier, and you felt Yoongi smirking against your skin, releasing your abused flesh with an audible pop.

“You fall apart so easily for me… who could’ve guessed you’d be such a responsive, cock hungry little thing.” he mused while allowing his hands to travel down your stomach, so close to where you needed stimulation.

“Yoongi please…”

“Fuck, say it again. My name sounds so much better coming from your pretty lips.”

“Yoongi.” you moaned, nearly breathless. “Please.”

In an instant, Yoongi had you flipped over, resting on your back as he hovered over you, his hungry gaze trailing over your chest and traveling down. He tugged on the waistband of your pajamas, pulling them down past the swell of your ass, then helping you kick them off and aside, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

“Wanna see you, Yoongi.” you pleaded, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

He quickly obliged, whipping it off and tossing it aside, revealing his expanse of glorious ivory skin to you. Your gaze traveled down the expanse of his torso, tracing over the intricate designs that decorated his skin in awe. You’d seen glimpses, when he’d been in just a towel, or stripping off his shirt at the washing machine, but you’d never gotten a good look up close.

You tentatively lifted your fingers, your index gently tracing the inky black lines as tenderly as you could, barely a ghost of a touch as you admired the beautiful artwork that so perfectly suited such a beautiful man. Yoongi shivered at your touch, watching you study his ink with such wonder in your eyes pulled at his heart strings, reminding him exactly why he’d fallen for you in the first place.

“When we have more time, I want to hear all about these,” you mused quietly, “what they mean, when you got them, I want to know everything.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know baby,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “but for now…” he trailed off, slowly moving his body down, kissing a path from your lips down your front until he reached the elastic band of your panties.

He teasingly ran his finger under the elastic, grinning up at your from his spot between your thighs before pulling the garment from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your soaking pussy to him. You tried to close your legs from embarrassment, but Yoongi gently slid his hands up your thighs, gently kneading the flesh there.

“So beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” he cooed, kissing a line from your thigh to your folds, causing you to let out a pleased sigh and spread your legs further for him, “mmm… good girl.”

He rewarded you by licking a long stripe up your slit, gathering your slick on his tongue and making a pleased noise in the back of his throat before diving in, working his warm muscle against your clit in different motions, alternating between sucking it between plump lips, licking broad stripes against it, and drawing figures with the tip of his tongue.

Using your pleasure as a distraction, he slowly eased a finger inside of your entrance, your slick aiding him with the welcome intrusion. He curled his finger and made come hither motions, repeatedly rubbing the pad of his finger against your weakest spot, and it took everything inside of you not to cry out at the intense fire burning in your core as he worked you closer to your first release. He slowly added a second finger, then a third, scissoring you open and prepping you for his cock.

Just the thought of the thick member you’d felt pressing against your lower back earlier nestled deep inside you had you drooling, and Yoongi’s skills with his mouth and fingers were certainly not hurting. Quiet whimpers escaped your lips as you fought the urge to buck your hips up into his mouth as your climax came closer and closer. Yoongi noticed your needy behavior and sped up his actions, working you towards your release.

You bit down on your fingers to stifle the loud moans that threatened to spill from your lips, even in your lust clouded mind, the last thing you needed was to be interrupted before you could get Yoongi inside of you. As your orgasm crashed over you from Yoongi’s ministrations, your back arched off the bed and you nearly drew blood from how hard you had to bite down to keep quiet, your body shaking as you came down from euphoria.

Yoongi kissed his way back up your body, finally becoming eye-level with you, smirking at your fucked out state and heavy breathing. You laughed and hid your face in the crook of his neck, drawing his body closer to yours in an attempt to hide. Yoongi’s low chuckles reverberated, shaking the bed slightly. Your hands traveled from being wrapped around his neck, slowly trailing down his back and pulling on the elastic of his pajama bottoms, desperate to lay eyes on his thick cock, which was pressed into your hip.

“Yoongi… need you. Need you so bad.” you begged.

Yoongi’s cock twitched in his pj’s, and he assisted you with ridding him of them and his boxers in one go, allowing his cock to spring free and slap against his stomach in all its glory. You were absolutely salivating as you looked at the reddened tip, leaking precum, the long shaft, and you couldn’t wait to feel him filling you up.

“Ready, princess?” he wondered, lining his member up with your entrance after gathering your slick to coat the head.

“So ready. Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

Yoongi slowly pushed himself inside your entrance, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. He took his time, periodically checking your expression for discomfort as he impaled you with his length. Your breathing was erratic, you were clutching onto his back for dear life as he split you open, eventually bottoming out. Yoongi stretched you out in all the best ways, filling you up better than any man had ever dreamed of before, and you were living for it.

You rocked your hips up into his, begging him to move, and Yoongi slowly pulled out until just the tip was sheathed inside your warmth before pushing back in, gaining more speed as he went. You couldn’t help the pathetic whines and moans that fell from your lips as Yoongi worked his hips, thrusting into you at a punishing pace. Every rock of his hips had the tip of his cock meeting your cervix, the powerful thrusts sending you closer and closer to oblivion.

“Fuck, babygirl, you look so sexy like this, taking my cock so well… like you were made for me. So fucking perfect.” Yoongi whispered hotly in your ear, licking a bold stripe along the shell, sending shivers coursing through your body.

“Yoongi, fuck.”

“That’s it baby, who’s making you feel this good?” he accentuated the last word with a harder thrust that sent your body a little farther up the bed.

“You, Yoongi! Oh oh o-oh..” your whines grow louder and Yoongi quickly covered your mouth with his own in an attempt to drown out the noise, lest your parents really do hear him defiling their daughter in her childhood bedroom.

You clawed desperately at his back, trying to warn him of your impending orgasm, and Yoongi deepened the kiss in understanding, pistoning his hips with as much strength as he could muster and reaching down to roll your clit between his fingers, sending you sailing off the edge, Yoongi’s kiss stifled your scream before he soon followed you off the edge, painting your walls white with his hot release.

Yoongi pecked your lips tenderly before rolling off of you and landing on his back beside you, both of you panting and grinning like idiots. Yoongi’s cum seeped out of your battered hole, and he licked his lips at the sight, causing you to cover your face and giggle. He stood, walking into the bathroom and dampening a washcloth to clean you up as gently as he could before tossing it into the hamper and resuming his position on his side of the bed.

The sun was just beginning to rise and shine through the blinds as you lay beside Yoongi, still catching your breath. You glanced over at Yoongi to find he was already looking at you. He gave you a shy, tentative smile.

“So…” he trailed off.

“So…?”

Yoongi sighed and sat up, urging you to follow suit so you could both talk. You followed his instructions, wincing slightly. He gently reached out and took both of your hands in his larger ones, looking up to meet your gaze before he spoke quietly.

“Listen… I know this started off as a lie to piss your dad off, but… I would be lying now if i said it was still fake for me. I really like you, Y/N.. I have for a while. I don’t know when it happened but somewhere along the way, I just- I don’t know. But if you’re willing to give me a chance, a real chance, I think I could make you happy.” he spoke quietly, his eyes filled with light and hope.

“Oh Yoongi…” you sighed, cupping his cheek with your hand tenderly and smiling as he leaned subconsciously into your touch, “you already do. None of this is fake for me either, not anymore. I really, really like you.”

A soft knock on your door tore you two from your moment, your heads snapping towards the door as you pulled the blanket up to cover your breasts.

“Morning, guys, breakfast will be ready in ten.” your mom called through the wood.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to look your mom in the eye now.” Yoongi chuckled.

“She already thought we were fucking before this.” you reasoned with a smirk.

Yoongi groaned and hid his face in the crook of your neck and you laughed, carding your fingers through his messy post-sex hair lovingly.

“I can’t believe you’re really mine, for real this time.” he whispered into the safety of your neck.

“And I can’t believe you’re mine… for real this time,” you grin, carding your fingers through his hair comfortingly, “let’s eat so we can go home.”

The two of you got dressed and headed out for breakfast, engaging in small talk with your mom and semi-comfortable silence with your dad. You still had a ways to go to fix that relationship, but you were pleased with the progress. You didn’t think you’d ever have a perfect relationship with your father, but you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to fix everything, or be who he wanted in order to receive love, you were slowly learning.

The roads had been salted and deemed safe to drive on, so you and Yoongi bid your parents a farewell, thanking them for letting you stay and for the gifts. Your mom pulled you into a hug, then Yoongi into one as well.

“I just love how happy you are around him, Y/N. It’s like you’re glowing. You two come visit soon, okay? I miss seeing you.” your mom spoke, holding your hand in hers.

“We will. I love you, mom.”

Yoongi reached out and you placed your hand in his, letting him lead you home.

Months later, on another lazy Sunday afternoon, you were cuddled up with your boyfriend on the couch of your shared apartment, snuggling into his chest while the two of you half paid attention to another movie on Netflix. Wrapped up in blankets and Yoongi’s arms, you’d never felt safer, more content, or so unbelievably happy.

Yoongi had your hand wrapped in his, lazily placing kisses along your wrist, palm, the tips of your fingers, anywhere his lips would reach. He wanted to shower you in kisses. You watched him with curious eyes, noting the way his own were shining as he met your gaze.

“What?” you wondered, chucking quietly.

“Say it again.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, looking up at him with a smile nonetheless, “I’ve said it like fifty times today.”

“Just one more time.”

You rolled your eyes before quietly letting the words roll off your lips like dripping honey as you pressed a kiss to his skin. “I love you, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi hummed happily, almost like a purring cat, “Mmm.. I love you too.”

You snuggled into his embrace before he spoke up once more.

“Okay, just one more time.”

You laughed and rolled over so you were straddling him, reaching down and squishing his cheeks together before pressing your lips to his.

“I love you.” you giggled, pecking his lips once more, then repeating the words and actions over and over and over again.

“I love you I love you I love you I love you.” you peppered kisses all over his face, any part of it you could reach until your boyfriend was a mess beneath you, laughing and blushing with the biggest gummy smile on his face.

Every once in a while, you meet someone you instantly connect with. Every so often you cross paths with someone you’re just meant to meet. But, once in a lifetime, you meet someone who makes your soul feel whole again. You see a face in the crowd and instantly feel at home. You hear their laugh one time and suddenly the world has color again. Once in a lifetime, you meet someone who doesn’t save you, but holds you steady while you gather the strength you need to save yourself.

Min Yoongi is that person for you.

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bitacrytic · 3 years ago

Text

Black Rose (6)

Read previous part HERE

♧

“You’re selling this place,” Yohan said, gently nudging the makeshift posts beneath Gaon’s bed.

“Excuse me,” Gaon replied, closing the door, but making no move to come back in, careful of the distance between them.

Yohan hated the distance.

“You can’t keep running back here every time we get in a fight.”

Or if he’d somehow laid himself bare to a man, he knew nothing about.

♧♧♧♧♧

Yohan took a tentative step into the apartment, into Gaon’s world. It wasn’t lost on him that they’d only ever interacted at the office or at the mansion, or anywhere else that was of Yohan’s machinations. He wondered if it was to his advantage that things between always happened on his turf, on his terms.

The apartment was small but roomy enough to afford him movement because Gaon didn’t clutter the inside. He just had a bed, a closet, and a reading area. Gaon reserved all his clutter for the veranda right outside his door where there was barely any room to step for fear of crushing a potted plant.

It was quiet, but not in the menacing way that the mansion was. He could still hear cars from the road and conversation from the street and other apartments. Living in this apartment, was not insolation. This was comfort. This was calm. This was an avenue to community. Three things that the mansion was not.

No wonder Gaon kept coming back.

“You’re selling this place,” Yohan said, gently nudging the makeshift posts beneath Gaon’s bed.

“Excuse me,” Gaon replied, closing the door, but making no move to come back in, careful of the distance between them.

Yohan hated the distance.

“You can’t keep running back here every time we get in a fight.”

Gaon clenched his fist, then buried them in his pockets.

“I’m not selling my house.”

“I’ll buy you a better one. One closer to the mansio-"

“Did you come here for a reason, Sir?”

Yohan wanted to ignore him and finish what he’d started saying. Instead, he sat on the bed. Soft. He tried to bounce on it, but it didn’t bounce. It just absorbed his weight and pulled him in.

“Come back with me.”

“Sir-"

“It’s what we do Gaon. We fight and then we make up.”

Gaon leaned a shoulder against the wall and crossed his hands in front of his torso.

“That’s not the best way to live.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do. And I don’t want to pressure you-”

Yohan laughed.

“-into anything that you don’t want.”

“Do you think we’ve done anything that I don’t want?”

“You may have wanted it at the moment, but regret tends to colour memories of the experience.”

Gaon was right. Yohan had wanted it, God, he’d wanted it like his skin was burning and Gaon had a bucket of water. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so desperate for anything before that day at the office where he’d kissed Gaon and sucked him off.

The moment they were done, Yohan was wrought with shame. His depraved needs were usually confined to protected walls with partners who knew better than to speak of it.

“Do you know where I’m supposed to be today?”

Gaon shook his head.

“Think.”

Comprehension dawned on Gaon.

“It’s the third Saturday of the month.”

“Yes.” Yohan nodded. “I have a standing appointment that I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep.”

Gaon pushed off the wall as his hands fell to his sides, then he schooled his expression, attempting to pull back the veil of nonchalance he’d worn ever since Yohan entered the apartment. Eventually, he gave up, placing a hand on his hips.

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean?”

As the words left his mouth, Yohan didn’t think truer words could have existed. He was starving and for some reason, Gaon felt like the perfect source to quench his thirst. He could go for his appointment. He could have Josephine or Stephen whip him till his body quivered and craved release. He could do that. But it wouldn’t be enough. Not anymore.

“What does that mean?” Gaon asked again, sounding worried. “We’re not doing anything until we understand what we want from each other.”

“I want everything from you,” Yohan replied quietly.

“Sir,” Gaon said softly taking a step forward, but backing up immediately.

Yohan frowned at Gaon’s feet. He wanted Gaon to cover that distance, but he didn’t know how to say it. He couldn’t find the words.

“I should be more specific,” Yohan said. “I don’t want you to hurt me. I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“I hate it when you leave.” His voice shook.

“I’m right here, Sir.”

“I hate that you still call me Sir. Gaon, you’ve ejaculated in my mouth for fucksake.”

The words came out harsher than he’d intended. As Gaon’s frown deepened, Yohan rushed to rectify his mistake.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that way. You can... you can call me whatever you-"

“Yohan-hyung.”

Every word in Yohan’s mind screeched to halt after Gaon spoke. Unable to speak, he just sat there with his mouth hanging open.

“Hyung-nim?” Gaon asked, walking towards Yohan, slowly. “Or just Yohan?”

Yohan-hyung. That was the one Yohan liked the best. But he couldn’t convey that because Gaon was getting closer and closer till he crouched between Yohan’s legs and knelt on the ground.

“Which do you prefer?”

“What are you doing?”

Gaon took Yohan’ hands in his own and held them to his chest. He was so close. He was still so beautiful. Oh, how Yohan just wanted to kiss him.

But before he could, Gaon leaned up and pressed his lips to Yohan’s in a soft, fleeting kiss.

“We’re talking terms and conditions, right?”

Yohan nodded.

“Yohan-hyung,” Gaon said, sounding like he’d decided. “But I’ll still call you Sir at the office.”

“Anything you want.” He licked his lips, looking down at Gaon’s and wanting another kiss.

“I want you to talk to me.”

“I can do that.” If things were going where Yohan thought they were, then he was going to agree to anything.

“Listen to me,” Gaon said, squeezing Yohan’s arm and drawing his attention away from Gaon’s lips. “I don’t want you to agree to anything just so we can have sex.”

“I can talk.”

“I mean, reallytalk. If I ask a question, I just want answers. That’s how we can avoid hurting each other. Usually, you make vague statements that mean nothing and eventually it blows up in both our faces because I draw all the wrong conclusions. If we’re going to do this, my biggest condition is that we talk to each other.”

Yohan knew that. Most of their fights escalated because they didn’t communicate when they should have. Question and answer. Right? It could be that simple if Yohan allowed it to be, right?

“Alright.”

“You have to be able to ask for stuff too.”

“I ask for things.”

“Do you?” Gaon asked back. “You set traps and beat around the bush till I do what you want. Just ask me anything. You’re my hyung now, right?”

Yohan’s insides felt mushy and giddy hearing Gaon speak that way.

“Can you kiss me?”

Gaon smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him again. Yohan kissed back, holding on to Gaon like his life depended on it. When Gaon pulled back, Yohan went down and kissed him again before he sat back.

“One day,” Yohan said. “One day I’m going to…” he cleared his throat. “One day I’m going to ask you to do something that… uh… something that I don’t think you’d like.”

“Are we talking about the reason for your monthly appointments?”

“If we’re going to do this, we have to be honest, right?”

“Yes.”

‘Then you should know about the things that I want.”

Gaon stood, gently pushing Yohan against the bed as Yohan obliged, shifting to accommodate him. Together, they lay, facing each other.

“I’ve’ been reading about it,” Gaon admitted, picking at Yohan’s collar, and avoiding Yohan’s eyes. “Honestly,” he said, as his cheeks colored. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”

“Really?”

“But I don’t know exactly how you like it.”

“I can show you.”

When Gaon met Yohan’s eyes, the open adoration in them was enough to take Yohan’s breath away. This foolish boy who thought he could handle anything. Yohan didn’t know he could ever feel this way about anyone. He had no idea anyone could ever feel this way about him.

“You can show me,” Gaon agreed, caressing Yohan’s lips. “I’ll learn anything from you.”

Yohan liked that too much. He scooted closer, lifting himself till his upper body was above Gaon’s.

“I like that,” he smiled.

“But I’m not selling my house.”

“You can keep it,” Yohan allowed. “This bed is growing on me.”

Gaon reached up, running his hands through Yohan’s hair, a gesture that was so reminiscent of that first time in Yohan’s office, when Gaon had done it. Yohan leaned into his touch, soaking it in, anticipating what it would feel like to have Gaon’s hands all over every other part of his body.

“Are we doing this or not?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Yohan said, diving down and capturing Gaon’s in a kiss so full of intention that he was quaking in his bones. He’d wanted this for so long and even though he’d thought he’d only get it as some broken thing, some secret, some stolen moment that could never truly be, he couldn’t believe that he was here.

He was getting Gaon, intentions bared, and wounds left open. Because he’d been a fool to think he deserved anything less than everything Kim Gaon had to offer.

#devil judge #bitafics

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jjungkookislife · 3 years ago

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Quarterly Fic Recs 2021

Hello! This is my first recs list so I’m not sure if I’ve done this correctly, but here are fics I’ve read, loved and thoroughly enjoyed in the first quarter of 2021! They are all very wonderful fics! Each story has its own genre, warnings (and are 18+), so please take that into consideration before reading. If any authors would like me to untag them, please let me know. Enjoy!

Seokjin

golden boy @kpopfanfictrash

summary: The golden boy of the porn industry, prettier than half his female co-stars. Will sue if you pull his hair. Always bothering his neighbors with pizza delivery.

Yoongi

finding big foot @bloomsuga

summary: you set out to hike the pacific crest trail in search of yourself… instead you found him

Jimin

steamy waters @oftenderweapons-a-companion

summary: it’s been a while since Jimin has returned from the tour. Princess is supposed to meet with Vixen and Lace — Girls’ Night squad is back — for dinner and is missing only a few details before leaving when Jimin presents his counterarguments. Too benevolent to leave him sulking — and too vulnerable to his charms — Princess decides she has enough time to indulge him. Of course she ends up being late to the appointment, but she’s not the only one.

Taehyung

the snow king @/bloomsuga

summary: cursed to freeze anything he touches, prince taehyung built a castle of ice to keep everyone else out. what he didn’t plan on? you getting in

enemy @btssmutgalore

summary: Taehyung may be cocky, but he has every reason to be. After all, he never gets turned down by women – at least not until he meets you.

Jungkook

ancient history @moononthejoon

summary: there is no way to deny that you and Jungkook have chemistry. the two of you used to be a couple, after all. what happens when after a not-so-amicable breakup the two of you are cast as opposite leads of a movie?

bound @/btssmutgalore

ASK: Imagine Koo on his knees in front of you so that you can bury your fingers in his now blonde hair and pull his head back so he looks all vulnerable and ready to be devoured by you with his throat exposed. Oh, did I mention that his hands are tied behind his back in red silk and you stripped him of his shirt? Have fun with that mental image!

viki & hickeys @1kook

summary: Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

gold rush @venusiangguk

summary: jk comes back from a weekend away and he wants to show you just how much he missed you.

teeth @sweetbunnykook

summary: Your obedient servant has a craving only you can satiate.

oops wrong wedding @ppersonna

summary: jungkook drives you to the wrong wedding

bad behavior @noteguk

summary: in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while.

bad influence ^

summary; in which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.

after hours @zibermuda

summary: after your boss hires a second assistant, you feel the pressure of being outperformed more now than ever. A blind date, a tight skirt, and a cup of jealously is the perfect recipe to bake a your-boss-fucks-you-against-your-desk-because-you’re-his-favourite-assistant cake. How sweet!

concrete king @bratkook

summary: when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor theres no way you could you ever say no to him

OT7

nutjobs @ironicarmy

summary: Eight friends. One terrible idea. A whole lot of trouble. Welcome to No Nut November.

Namjoon

cinderella!joon @jinpanman

will you let me? @/bratkook

summary: Namjoon wants nothing more than to see you stuffed full of his cum, and as his mind starts to wander with thoughts of the future, he has to know if you’d let him.

Jungkook

swipe right @/ppersona

summary: after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, Jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

another taste @/bratkook

summary: full of adrenaline after a show, Jungkook just wants to see you fall apart on his tongue.

Yoongi

of fire and love @hollyhomburg

summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops off a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods.

Namjoon

break up with your girlfriend @lovetrivia

summary: After his long time girlfriend, Yuri, rejects his proposal and confesses to cheating on him, the two “go on a break”. However, a beautiful student retaking the Human Sexuality class he TAs for may be the breaking point.

heated @joonsgalore

summary: Namjoon is your own personal living, breathing, walking furnace.

fool for you @cutechim

summary: he may be your best friend, but he’s still only second best.

lost in the funhouse @dovechim

prisoner!namjoon au

Jungkook

commercial break; eight @/1kook

summary: You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. But Jungkook is the same.

e2l!jungkook ^

summary: e2l jungkook checking out his annoying ass coworker

piece of you @dntaewithluv

summary: After three months of pining over the cute delivery boy, as well as ordering a questionable amount of pizza, you decide to finally shoot your shot with him by slipping him your number during one of his deliveries. When Jungkook actually takes you up on your offer and calls you on a Friday night to see if you have plans, you’re quick to invite him over. Seeing the blonde haired beauty at your door with pizza and beer in hand makes you think maybe you’re in for something a little extra tonight, and that for once it won’t just be the cheese on the pizza.

thirty four, thirty five @sunshinekims

summary: you and jungkook had two rules in your apartment: no stealing clothes and no hooking up with each other…too bad you guys broke both of those rules because of a TikTok trend. or was it all bad? you’re certainly not complaining, especially if it means you getting with your roommate. roomies to lovers! au

sweeter than sugar @jungkxook

summary: when infamous playboy jeon jungkook comes to you with a proposition that you know you should say no to, you can’t. because all you really know is that being spoiled has never felt so sweet before

#jjungkookislife fic recs #fic recs masterlist #fic recs 2021 #jjungkookislife fic recs masterlist

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oh-so-scenarios · 4 years ago

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Loose Ends | three

⇢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ...ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴛɪᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴜsᴇᴅ.

⇢ᴄᴇᴏ! ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ x ᴀᴅᴍɪɴ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ! ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇx-ғɪᴀɴᴄᴇs!ᴀᴜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇsᴛᴏʟᴏᴠᴇʀs

**A/N: Yall already know the deal, there are errors! (Word count 6.03K)

Previous | Next ◀ ▶ Series Index | Masterlist

Y/N:

I have to tell her. I have to tell her. There is no way I can keep this from her forever.

I’m staring at the door that led into my roomy 3 bedroom apartment. On the other side was my 17-year-old sister. The bass of the TV was leaking through the door, letting me know that she sat in front of the living room TV.

Today was my 6th day working for Mr. Kim and since the heated discussion four days ago, he barely speaks to me. He barely lifts his gaze to acknowledge my presence and I can’t say I hate it, but I don’t like it either.

I can’t expect anything from him. The state of things was due to my decisions and even though I am fine with handling that burden, I wasn’t prepared to see his face every day. It’s slowly taking a toll on me. It’s picking away at my resolve and leaving me with a familiar empty feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

Luna may only be 17 but she worries about me like a mother. It’s been like that since I could remember. I can’t recall when the roles changed. When did I lose my grips of being the older sister, and when did Luna take on that role?

I lean against the wall by the door, staring blankly at the floor. It’s unfair really, how I have leaned on Luna. It’s unfair and cruel because Luna should have been leaning on me. Regret bubbles up in my stomach and travels up my body to leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

Luna was always my mother’s favorite child. She was the one that received the most hugs, the better presents, and the compliments. As a child, it bothered me. Why was she more important than me? A mother should love her children equally! They should put the same amount of effort into each child.

But that wasn’t the case with Luna and I. Oh no, Luna needed the extra attention and love because Luna was sick. She’d been sick since birth, but our mom did a good job of hiding it from me. The random walks they’d take together while I stayed at home with my grandmother would leave me in envy.

But I found out as Luna got older and started to talk that they were going to doctor’s appointments. Juna was born with a weak heart. I never understood the details. Something about a tube she was supposed to have didn’t fully develop. My mother was hiding it from me because she didn’t want me to worry.

Doctors were telling my mother that it would be a miracle if she lived past 22 years old. A horrifying thing to hear from anyone. The fact that my mother didn’t crumple from the stress is unbelievable. This was after my father up and left us. My parents were never married, so when he left after Luna was born, my mother was one her own.

We moved in with our grandmother and my mom worked and worked. All she would do is work. We’d see her on weekends and that’s when she’d pour all her time into Luna. I grew to resent her. I was only 7 when Luna was born, so the present blossomed as I entered adolescence.

However, my mother passed when I was 16. A car accident took her life, leaving us to be raised by our grandmother. My mother worked like crazy, leaving money for that we used for Luna’s medical bills after she passed.

Well, as much of the bills as we could.

Luna adored Namjoon, and when things went to shit 3 years ago, she blamed herself, but what could I have done?

I took my keys out, unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment. Just as I predicted, Luna sat on the couch, her back facing me, with her laptop on her lap and the tv on as background noise.

“You’re home?” She called over her shoulder. She didn’t spare me a glance, clicking rapidly at something.

“Yeah.” My voice came out thin, which made her clicking stop. She looks over her shoulder at me, her short brown hair pushed behind her ears. Her thin bangs were a distray, a result of her running her fingers through her hair in frustration.

“Rough day at work?” She questions, keeping her eyes on me for a moment longer before turning back to her laptop. I take off my shoes, and approach the couch, barely peeking at her laptop screen. I take a seat on the loveseat perpendicular to her and watch as she starts to type something.

“An essay?” I assume.

“Yes ma’am.” She answers glancing up at me. Luna does school online, her grades being good enough that she convinced her school to allow her to do most of her senior year online.

“Luna,” I call out with a heavy heart, “There is something I need to tell you.”

Without a glance, she hums in response. She wore an oversized black hoodie with pj shorts she found on sale some time ago. She told me she bought them because of the design of avocados on it. I’m not surprised. She loves silly things like that.

“You know that new contract I started?”

“The long one you swore you weren’t gonna accept?” She mentions, smiling in a mischievous manner. She only did that because she was also against me doing such a contract. She knew I’d be miserable, and she was right.

“Is the CEO an asshole?” She asks but speaks again right after. “-It’s not like you haven’t handled some rude CEOs before?”

“The CEO is Namjoon.” I forced it out, and it feels like I was running out of oxygen when I said it. My words are quick and unsteady.

She looks at me with wide eyes, like she was waiting for me to start laughing and tell her it was a joke.

“Seriously? The Kim Namjoon?” She questions and moves the laptop off her lap and onto the couch. She leans forward, and she doesn’t look away from me.

“Yeah. He’s the CEO.” I show her a small smile before leaning back in the loveseat. I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling.

“You need to quit.” She orders.

I chuckle, “I knew you were going to say that.” I mutter, still gazing at the white ceiling.

“Y/n! Come on! You can’t keep working there! This isn’t good for you.” She argues.

“You think I don’t know that Luna? Seeing his face every day is wearing me down, but I signed the contract. I can’t leave.” I informed her.

When I picked my head up to see the worried grimace on her face, I sighed and sat up in the loveseat. It was usually comfortable, but today it’s softness was useless. I’m in an uncomfortable situation. This job is leaving me in a constant state of stress.

“It’s not too bad.” I try to lift the mood, “He barely speaks to me, so it’s nothing! He only speaks to me about work.”

“Y/n.” Her tone is different and she drops her focus to her hands in her lap. I know what’s coming. I know what she’s going to say and I’ve heard it too many times for my liking.

“Luna, don’t even go there!” I groan, shaking my head at the sad sad look in her eyes.

“Y/n, you keep saying this but...I still feel awful! This is all my fault! If it wasn’t for me You and Namjoon would have been marr-”

“Stop!” My voice comes out in a panic shriek, taking both of us by surprise. Luna jumps at my outburst, her eyes becoming wet with tears.

“Luna, you don’t need to bring it up again. None of this is your fault, okay?” I stand up from my seat, grabbing my bag off the coffee table, and walking around the couch she sat on, and down the hallway. But before I can go far, Luna speaks again.

“Do you still love him?” She shouts. I stop walking and stare down at the carpet. My chest tightens and I lean against the wall for strength. Do I still love him?

“Y/n? You still love him right?” This time her voice is closer. I turn around to see her standing at the end of the hallway, her hips leaning on the back of the couch. Her eyes showed pity, while she ran her fingers through her bangs. She always does that when she’s stressed.

We stare at each other and a moment of silence passes before she sighs.

“Y/n…” She whines, taking my silence as an answer, “You need to quit.”

“I can’t.” I answered immediately, “I can’t quit. It doesn’t matter how I feel. He hates me now. Plus, a man like Namjoon...you can never stop loving him.”

“M-maybe this is fate? It’s a second chance.”

I laughed at her notion and could only shake my head in response. A second chance? What a joke. The sad look in her eyes only makes me want to retreat. I turn my back on her and go into my room, feeling the weight of the past few days on my shoulders. I closed the door behind me and tossed my bag to the side before falling face-first into my bed. The painful memory burned into my mind. It burned like a new fire wound. It stung and the slightest thought back to it made my eyes water.

The heartbreak in his eyes will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I made a choice.

《 PAST 》

At this moment, I’d rather be swallowed up by the ground. I’d rather whatever higher power there is, strike me down and end my life at this very moment. It would be less painful. Pulling layers of band-aids from burnt skin would be less painful. At that moment my whole body went stiff. My knees locked, my muscles tensed and my lungs were struggling to take in oxygen.

Maybe it’s because I was holding my breath with my eyes wide. I stared at the man smiling up at me for the past 3 seconds.

3 seconds. It had only been 3 seconds but it felt like an eternity. I blink, and he smiles back at me. He’s on one knee, holding out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen.

Not a huge rock, but it shines beautifully. A dazzling circular diamond, with smaller diamonds lined around the band. The silver band itself sparkled. In the ring, I could see his love, his hard work, and our years of laughter, tears and good memories.

I left out a harsh breath, my head feeling light as I was holding my breath. My awareness grows and I become aware of where we are. At a fancy restaurant in which it was rented out, making us the only customers. The kitchen staff stood at the back of the restaurant, watching me for my reaction.

Namjoon. Kim Namjoon, the love of my life and the man I’m pretty sure the universe made for me and I for him. He stares at me with a smile, tears of nerves, and joy coating his loving eyes. It’s only been another 4 seconds. 7 seconds since I saw his lips move I say those words.

I couldn’t hear them as I was having an out of body panic attack, but his lips moved so I’m sure he said the words.

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

He said them and I knew he would. I saw this coming and I knew he was going to say these things...so now I know what I have to say.

I push down the dread pulling in my system and laugh. I laugh in his face, trying my best to not see his hopeful smile drop into a look of anguish and fear.

“Seriously Namjoon?” I cackled, trying to swallow down the tears that were burning my eyes.

“Marry you?” I hissed. He stays there on one knee, bringing down his arm that was showing me the ring.

“I-is there something wrong?” His voice trembles and it feels like my heart is turning to ash in my chest.

“Is there something wrong!?” I raise my voice, stepping back from his crouched figure, “Namjoon, what do you have to offer? What do you have to give that makes you think you could be my husband? We just graduated college and you don’t have a cent to your name because you went and got disowned by your rich parents.”

He gasps, shocked by my words.

“Y/n, I did that for you and for myself! You’re the one that pushed me to go against my parents plans for me. You said you’d stand by myself.” He exclaims, and stands to his feet, the tears in his eyes not the same happy tears as before.

“As you do what Namjoon? Write poetry? Help other people put out their shitty works? I need stability. You had that when you were listening to your parents.” My voice trembled towards the end, my resolve breaking with every second.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at me and staggered back. It was as if his own realization left him physically drained.

“Y/n…” He pauses, staring down at the ground while tears run down his cheeks.

“Did you only get with me because of my family’s money?”

I love you. Namjoon I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have no choice Joon, but I need to do this.

“Of course, I did.” I choke out, “After years of friendship, I knew you had a crush on me so I took it to my advantage...but there is no reason to stay with you now.”

He looks up from the floor and clutches the velvet box in his hands, “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it.”

“Y/n,” He reaches out, holding a hand of mine in his free one, small pants leaving his lips.

“Y/n, please stop. This has to be a joke right? This is going too far!” He squeezed my hand, pleading with me. Hi eyes stayed on my face, scrutinizing my expression for any sign of a joke. He brings me closer to him, his familiar warmth and scent overpowering my senses.

He stares down at me, in disbelief and anguish all I could see. I almost broke. I could feel my eyes burning with what was going to be tears. My dearest Namjoon gazed at me with a death grip on my hand, knowing that if he let me go, I’d fly away from him like a balloon.

“Get off of me!” I yelped, taking my hand away from his and pushing him back.

“Y/n.” His voice broke. The sound alone triggered tears too well in my eyes. I turn my head away from his so he doesn’t see them. I grabbed my bag that sat out the dinner table and rushed out of the restaurant. My heels clicked as I got out of the restaurant and onto the street. I don’t know where I’m walking to but my legs just carry me, wanting to run away from the pain.

《 PRESENT 》

It has been a quiet day. It’s been a quiet week. Mr. Kim only speaks to me when needed, falling to having Sana deliver orders to me, making it so I only see Mr. Kim is passing. No surprise, and no hard feelings. This is probably for the best and if we can keep this up for the next 7 months and 1 week...things will run smoothly.

Mr. Kim is currently out of the office, so I sat at the desk with Sana at my side. She worked on some documents for a presentation Mr. Kim will be having. The rights of a book that will be made in a movie are up for discussion.

While I am setting up a meeting with authors who are looking to publish with Moonchild Publishings. It was 3:37 PM, 6 PM not feeling too out of reach. The place is filled with the constant tapping of the keyboard and the humming of printers and copy machines. Everything was going as normal.

I sat in my seat, my black & white checkered flare pants making me wonder if my curves were being shown off a bit too much. Despite Mr. Park’s wandering eyes, I was beginning to think that my outfits showed how hard I was trying.

I wore a simple black long sleeve blouse with some tan heels to bring the outfit together. I did a simple hairstyle and rushed out of the house, waking up a bit later than I usually do. The clouds were grey when I left the house, with a humidity thickness in the air.

So when I was returning from lunch, which Sana followed me to, I felt the first softy warning drops of a storm come. By the time when I reached the top floor in the elevator, it was a full downpour. Mr. Kim hadn’t left the building. He was out of the office but was somewhere doing business.

He had certain types of meetings that though they were on his schedule, the reasonings were unknown. I don’t ask questions, I answer them so there is no point in asking him for details.

I hear the elevator bing from down the hallway and I assume it’s Mr. Kim made his way back. I don’t plan to even look up, seeing as Mr. Kim doesn’t spare us a glance when he enters, so I stopped standing up to greet him, as Sana still does.

The coldness we show towards each other hasn’t gone unnoticed, making me think back to something Sana said back at lunch.

“You two really hate each other huh? Like old enemies or something.” She laughs it off and takes another bite of her sandwich.

I’m snapped out of my flashback just in time to hear the click of heels. Heels? That couldn’t be-

I looked up to see another familiar figure. An older Korean woman wearing a straight and non-form fitting white dress with a creme colored bag over her shoulder and nestled in between her armpit.

Her light brown hair was up in a neat bun with a sparkling brooch attached. Her light make-up and freshly done nails gave away the lifestyle she lives. She’s rich, she's well off. Her confident posture and expensive heels show that.

She holds her head high and believes she's above the people that work here. She’s also looking at me. No she’s glaring at me.

I stare back at her and the feeling of disgust crawls it’s way up my throat. I press my lips tightly against each other, clenching my teeth to force a somewhat presentable smile.

“Mrs. Kim.” My voice was strained, and my muscles were reeling in discomfort.

She smiles, that same smile she gave me 3 years ago. Pity. Disgust. Superiority. It was all in her smile. It was a victory smile almost, her eyes showed anger. Anger and confusion. She probably thought she'd gotten rid of me, but here I am. Back in her perfect son’s life.

“Y/n, we meet again,” she pauses, “the unfortunate.”

Sana looks back and forth between both of us, her facial expression going from surprise to confusion and finally understanding. She rises from her seat to say hello to Mrs. Kim. I, on the other hand, do no such thing.

I stay seated and stiffly look back down at the computer.

Sana sits down again, awkwardly clearing her throat and looking at me as if she wanted to speak. The slight trembling of my fingers gave away that I wasn’t going to speak.

“Hello, Mrs. Kim. Your son is out of the office, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Sana informs her. I continue to type away at the computer, trying to contain the rage that was causing a sense of anxiety over my body.

This cursed, evil, and wicked woman. I look up from the computer screen

“That’s fine. I’ll wait in his office.” She answers Sana but keeps her eyes on me. She slowly turns around, happy that I’m watching her. I forget where I am for a moment and roll my eyes at the older woman just as the door to the office closed behind her.

I looked over to my right and met Sana’s blank facial expression.

“I’m not gonna ask any questions.” She says.

“Good.” I deadpan and look at the computer screen. I pretend that I don’t feel Sana’s stare linger on my profile. However, I couldn’t help the feeling of heat rising in my body. My body temperature was going up as my anger increased. I forgot how much I hated that woman. I forgot how STUPID she thought I was. Yet in the end, I was exactly what she always accused me of being.

A lousy woman that would take money over her son. That’s exactly what I did. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my movements stopping but the trembling of my fingers continuing.

“Y/n?” Sana called. As if a thin string of my sanity snapped, I stood up from my seat, causing Sana to flinch at the unexpected movement. My breathing becomes labored while I stare at the closed double doors of Mr. Kim’s office.

Who was the real winner in any of this? Did I get what I wanted out of our stupid deal? Did she get what she wanted? She must have, her smug smile burned into my frontal lobe. It’ll probably hunt me in my dreams, and any random thought of it in the future will cause me anger.

Like an embarrassing memory that makes you shiver up and regret your decisions. That’s exactly what I’m feeling. I stomped away from the desk and down the hallway, those white walls leaving me to be drowned in my thoughts. I have to find the bathroom. I know there is one in this hallway somewhere.

I keep my eyes low, stomping quickly to seek a place I can let out my scream of frustration.

It isn’t till I crash into something hard that my parade is stopped. The scent is familiar but not comforting, causing my stomach to drop.

“Ms. L/n?” Mr. Kim's voice held no concern but confusion. Why was I not at my desk doing the work that was expected of me? I continued to look down, only staring at his expensive dress shoes and the carpet.

I took a small step back, my hands balling into fists to keep from reigning my anger onto him. He didn’t deserve that. If anyone is a victim here, it’s Namjoon. I have no right to take this out on him. I also had no right to waltz into his life as I did. He knows that, though not for the same reason as Mrs. Kim and me.

“Sir, I’ll be there in a moment, you have a guest waiting for you in your office.” I take a step to the right, hoping to bypass him, but he mimics me, blocking my way again.

“Where are you going?” He questions, this time crossing his arms over his chest. I don’t have to see his face to know he’s looking down at me with his jaw clenched. In the last 3 weeks, I’ve realized he does that when he suspects I’m up to something. Or what he thinks I’m bullshitting.

All those suspicions only being grounded in personal feelings, seeing as my work here has been nearly perfect. I picked up on his routine quickly and moved before I had to be told. His charcoal grey three-piece suit looked like a smooth fabric. Something else with a combination of silk. A sign of wealth.

I almost chuckle to myself at the bitter aftertaste of my choices. I couldn’t even want Namjoon back. It would only play into the gold digger impression I had him believe. I mean, no one expected a small-time publishing company to explode in success in its first two years, then dominate in its third. The 25-year-old CEO became a millionaire.

Whether it was due to any assistance from his parents, I can’t be sure but...it makes me wonder if he would have still succeeded with me at his side. If I have to lie to myself and say he needed me gone to grow like this, I’ll do it. It makes me feel better.

I take in a deep breath and slowly look at Namjoon, my eyes moving over his suit and the dark red tie, before meeting his cold eyes.

I mustered up a smile, while oozed with sarcasm. So unprofessional of me. But this whole work atmosphere is unprofessional. The conflicts of interest would make any businesswoman lose her shit.

“The bathroom.” I answer, “I am allowed to use the bathroom, aren't I, sir?”

He doesn’t acknowledge the testing edge to my words but asks another question.

“What guest did you let in my office?” The beginning of him scolding me. I could feel it. My eyes fluttered close in frustration.

“Have you forgotten the rules I laid before? Any meetings that weren’t on my schedule should be turned away. I do not pencil people in-”

“It’s your mother, sir.” My eyes open after saying, “The guest in the office is your mother. She let herself into your office, I was not going to argue with her.”

His face relaxes from displeasure to...discomfort? He groans and runs his hands over his face before staring at the carpeted floor for a moment.

“What is that woman doing here?” He says under his breath. I could barely catch it, but there was disgust and unhappiness dripping off the words. My brows furrowed, not expecting that. Their relationship wasn’t repaired after I left?

I bite my lip to hide the victorious smirk that threatens to appear on my lips.

“Carry on.” Mr. Kim says without a glance back at me. He walks past me, no urgency in his movements. I continued down the hallway, past the elevator, and further down till I came to the bathroom marked for women. I was lucky enough to find it empty. I stood there staring at myself in the mirror, feeling like I was having an out of body experience.

This is what people mean when they say your decisions always come back to haunt you.

I clear my throat and let out a scream of frustration, knowing that anyone who gets off the elevator at this moment could probably hear it up the hallway.

But I don’t care. I need to let this out. I scream against, this time bringing my foot up to kick an innocent stall door.

《 PAST 》

I don’t belong here. Anyone could tell that I don’t belong here. The eyes of every person that I met held the question of, “What are you doing at a restaurant like this?”

I was wondering the same thing. I was wondering about all types of things. Why did Mrs. Kim call me here? Why did she tell me not to tell Namjoon? Was she ready to stop forcing her and Mr. Kim senior’s dreams onto Joon and to let him do what he wants?

I bet she is still a bit shocked at Joon taking himself out of the family. He was disowned but also removed himself. The Kims weren’t expecting such action from their son. He was only 21 years old, almost 22, and fresh out of college with the Business degree they forced on him.

The world isn’t easy, so he surely wasn’t serious about throwing his family away? But he did.

They blame me. The whole family blames me and that’s okay. I was the one encouraging to do such a thing, so I’ll carry my weight of responsibility. I, however, can’t wait to tell her that both Joon and I are doing great without their money. It’s only been a few months since he was disowned, but I haven’t seen Joon so happy in all my years of knowing him.

“I’m here to meet Mrs. Kim?” I said to the host. She nodded, looking me up and down before motioning for me to follow her. I wore a simple tee and some jeans with sneakers. I wasn’t going to dress up for this woman. With how she moves about things, I doubt we’ll be eating anything.

The restaurant was huge, seeming to have different wings and sections for people who wanted to be away from others. I try not to gawk at the luxurious decor, noticing the judgemental looks from the host who was in front of me.

The hostess brings me to a small circular table where Mrs. Kim sat waiting. Her focus was on the table cloth. She traced the small details of the white and gold table cloth, not even looking up as I took my seat.

“Y/n.” She says sternly, putting her dark gaze on me.

“How would you like to make a deal?” She continues. My brows furrow and I cock my head to the side. I think for a moment before laughing.

“Is this like those dramas where you give me a check to leave Joon? Mrs. Kim...you must be joking? You didn’t really call me here for this?” I keep laughing but her stone-cold facial expression doesn’t change.

“I just want my son back.” She hisses.

“You can have your son back Mrs. Kim. You just need to understand his--” She cuts me off, frustration appearing on her face for a split second.

“You don’t understand, do you? Namjoon is never gonna open his arms to us as he did before! I don’t know what nonsense you put into his head, but if you get out of the picture, any last strands of this riff will be gone.’

“Excuse me?” I say.

“I don’t leave loose ends Y/n. You are a loose end of this rebellious and hard patch I’ve been having with my son. Which is why I simply cannot let you stay.” She smirks, reaching for the glass of water that was sitting in front of her this whole time.

She can’t be serious! What type of entitled selfish--

“Namjoon is going to ask you to marry him.” She states after getting a sip of water.

My breath is knocked out of me, “H-huh?”

“You heard me right,” she gives me a pointed look. As if she couldn’t believe that I didn’t see this coming.

“He told me himself Y/n….at least during an argument he did. Seeing as there is no ring on your finger,” Her eyes flicker to my hands that sat on the table, “He hasn’t asked you yet.”

She wasn’t giving me time to move past the initial shock of Namjoon’s proposal. He’s going to ask me to marry him?

I brought a hand to my chest, trying to catch my birth.

“Y/n, I’m sure it’ll be a lovely ceremony,” She pauses, “too bad Luna won’t be there.”

My happy mood is lost. The surprised smile left my lips while my face twisted up in pain.

“E-excuse me?”

“Your sister Luna,” She gives an ungenuine pout, “Poor girl is sick right? And from what I heard getting worse.” My eyes burn and blur with tears. She’s right.

Luna is getting worse and worse. They say she’ll need surgery soon because her odds aren’t looking good. Namjoon has done his best to be the supportive rock for us both. Luna already believes her time is coming to an end and I have to smile and tell her to stay hopeful, all while having the same thoughts.

She has been on the waiting list for a heart transplant for the last 2 years and we’re still nowhere near where we need to be. As if I could even afford the surgery once she gets a transplant.

The doctor told me it’ll be another 3 years before she could get a heart donor, and in the same breath told me she wouldn’t last a year without one. Life is cruel.

Mrs. Kim isn’t phased by my tears, and through my blurred vision, I think she smiles wider.

“Y/n,” She leans close as if she has a secret she’s been dying to tell me. Her dark eyes were now bright with mischief.

“Reject Namjoon’s proposal. Tell him you’re done with him and turn your back on him. That’s all I need from you and I can get your sister moved up on the transplant list. I could get her ready for surgery by tomorrow if I wanted to. I’ll pay for everything.”

I leaned back in the seat, a sob ripping through my chest at her proposition. My hands fell into my lap and I looked down at them.

“I mean, you’re not going to let your precious sister die are you?” She egged on, making my sobs grow stronger, “A big sister should do everything in their power to save their siblings right?”

Namjoon’s smiling face flashed into my mind, followed by my sister’s face. She sat there weak and scared in her hospital bed with a small smile on her lips.

“At least I'll be able to see mom soon.” She said softly.

I bring my hand up to my chest, slouching over in my seat with my hand gripping at the fabric of my shirt. It feels like my heart is tightening up. Growing tight in the grips of the reality of what’s in front of me.

The pain was running throughout my whole being, leaving me unable to speak words.

“So are you going to pick Namjoon or Luna? What will the choice be Y/n?”

I don’t know how long I’m sitting there crying but Mrs. Kim doesn’t stop me, watching me with judgmental eyes. It might have been the tears in my eyes but for a small second, I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes.

I struggled to catch my breath, sniffling, and wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hands.

“So what will it be?” She asks when my breathing returns to normal.

I clench my teeth, fighting off the second wave of tears that tickled my eyes.

“I-I’ll...I’ll leave Namjoon. I’ll do it.”

《 PRESENT》

I walk out of the bathroom, knowing I was already 5 minutes past the appropriate time someone takes to use the bathroom. I walk down the hallway, my steps quick to get back to my desk before Mr. Kim has a reason to yell at me.

I meet an angry Mrs. Kim coming in the opposite direction. When we lay our eyes on each other, other steps slow, leaving us in a silent staring match. We stood about 4 yards from each other, the tension being so thick, I thought I could feel it around me.

“Seems like your son still hates you.” I jeer with a grin.

She snickers, taking slow strides towards me, “What? Does it make you feel like you’re a winner?” She looks me up and down with the same look of pity she gave me while I sobbed in front of her 3 years ago.

“All I know is that you weren’t able to repair that so-called relationship with your son. You should have known I had nothing to do with that.”

She stops just as she’s walking past me, her eyes forward while she stood right beside me.

“Don’t worry Y/n...knowing that the questions of ‘What If’ that haunt you at night will always cause you to hate yourself, is all I need. In the end...only a fool would think they’ve won such a battle.”

Her words make my blood run cold, and I grow stiff as she continues to waltz away, stopping at the elevators. I stand there frozen long enough to hear the ding as the doors open, and the ding as they close.

It seems this time around, there are no winners after all. Just two losses and a casualty that is the one and only Kim Namjoon.

∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ❣

Alrightty! So the story can finally start to really get moving! I’m excited! :D

There were people who told me they wanted to be on the taglist for this but i sadly lost the list I had!

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I’m excited to see what you think of it and how you think things will progress.

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