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kwanisms · 2 years ago

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🎄Tales from Camp Holiday Special 01🎄

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➮ bouncer!Seungcheol × fem!Reader wc: 4.6k summary: For most people, the holidays mean gathering with family and having dinner, exchanging presents. For Seungcheol, it means freezing temperatures and drunk patrons. But that came with the territory of being a bouncer at one of the city's busiest clubs. Although, he never expected to find among all the drunk people the familiar face of Y/N. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; holiday themes, bar/club culture; non idol au, bouncer au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @dreamhannies @wonw00t @aikisbbq @hoshithinker @eneiyri @ninanyctophilia @everyw0nu @enhacolor @hybe02z @wonwoothinker @baldi-2 @1004luvangel @hellolittlequeen @duchesskaren @coupsiekkuma @yoonjin96 @sherituhhh join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes after part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: here we are! The first installment of the Tales from Camp Holiday Special! I hope you enjoy this series. Each part won't be too long but easily a few thousand words a piece! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (as hot as Cheol is, use protection. I know we all wanna be bred by him), daddy kink, breeding, choking, marking (f receiving), impact play (spanking; f receiving), rough sex, creampie (yum), use of pet names (babygirl, baby), mild degradation (bitch, slut), dirty talk, dom!Cheol, brat!Reader, and that’s about it!

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“What do we have today?”

Seungcheol looked up from the tablet as his coworker, Sunghoon, walked over, removing his jacket and setting it on the stand. “I thought we had an event today,” Sunghoon admitted, looking at the screen of the tablet over Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol shook his head. “No, that’s not until the twenty-sixth,” he answered, returning his attention to the screen.

Today he was in charge of the entrance of the club, overseeing the entry of all patrons.

It was the twenty-third of December and only two days until Christmas.

The club would be closed Christmas Day but it would be open normal hours on Christmas Eve which Seungcheol didn’t mind. He wasn’t one to celebrate the holiday. Sure he went to Daegu to see his family but usually he worked the day after so he wasn’t able to stay for very long.

As the head of security, it was his job to ensure all bouncers were properly trained and that operations ran smoothly. As long as he did his job, the bar would make money, the bartenders could serve the patrons and the patrons had a good time.

“Tonight is business as usual,” Seungcheol started as another one of his bouncers, Baek-ho, walked over, also removing his jacket but putting it back on as the front door opened and the frigid winter air hit them.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve!” Sara, one of the bartenders called as she walked past them.

Seungcheol nodded in response, his eyes still trained on the screen as he checked over the schedule and positioning of his staff. “Merry Christmas, Sara!” Sunghoon said, smiling at the small young woman as she disappeared behind the counter, removing her thick overcoat to reveal the short red and white Christmas themed ensemble she wore underneath.

“So boss,” Baek-ho said as he approached. “Where you want me?”

“I’ll let you know once everyone gets here,” Seungcheol answered, glancing up momentarily to give the man a short smile.

It only took another ten minutes for the rest of his security staff to arrive.

Once everyone was there, Seungcheol assigned them their posts and prepared for the club to open its doors.

“You with us today, boss?” Sunghoon asked, grabbing his jacket and pulling it back on as Seungcheol checked his watch. “Yep, I’ll be moving to and from stations to relieve people for breaks,” he added, turning as he heard his name being called.

The owner of the voice was the manager of the bar, Damien. Seungcheol remembered how the pair of them started working at the club together and both had worked their way up to the positions they held now.

“Are we all set?” Damien asked as he approached the stand where Baek-ho was currently setting up the entry process. Seungcheol glanced over at Baek-ho who glanced up and gave him and thumbs up, indicating he was ready. Seungcheol turned back to Damien and nodded.

“All good to go,” he replied.

The first hour of business was probably the most demanding. Lines out the queuing and down the sidewalk meant that inside was packed full of people. It wasn’t like the club was the newest in town, it had been around for a while. It was popular for its high cover charge but low priced drinks which just so happened to be strong.

The bartenders were heavy handed and especially on a night like tonight. Stronger drinks meant better tips.

True to his word, Seungcheol made sure to make his rounds, relieving anyone who felt they needed a break or needed to head to the bathroom. It was his job as head of security to lead by example and he preferred it that way. His staff was more likely to want to continue working for him if he was a good boss.

About three hours into opening and Seungcheol found himself back at the front of the club, relieving one of his roamers so he could sneak off to the bathroom.

Keeping his hands behind his back and maintaining a commanding presence was one of the most crucial parts of being a bouncer. He was scanning the area, making sure people weren’t getting into trouble or making a scene. It was a simple job. Keep the peace but make sure everyone stays safe.

Seungcheol was currently eyeing up a group of guys who were shouting along to the music, making a general ruckus. He caught the eye of one of his other roamers and nodded toward the group. The other bouncer nodded and started making his way through the crowd to politely tell the guys to knock it off.

Sensing he was no longer needed in that area, he moved to head past the bar but stopped as his body collided with another, emitting a loud ‘oof.’

“I’m so sorry!” A voice said in his ear.

‘Wait… I know that voice.’

Seungcheol glanced down and his eyes widened when they landed on the owner of the voice.

‘No way. It can’t be…’

“Y/N?”

It had, in fact, been you he’d run into. The universe worked in mysterious ways.

Or something like that.

Moments later, his roamer had returned from his bathroom break, giving Seungcheol a moment to speak with you.

“Wow, how are you?” You asked, smiling up at him, nursing a drink as you stood off to the side near the bar.

You noticed how much Seungcheol had changed and how he also hadn’t. The smile was the same, the same dimples appeared whenever he flashed you his pearly whites and you took notice at how much he’d matured since you last saw him.

He’d also filled out and was much more muscular than you remembered.

“I’m alright,” he answered with a nod. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he admitted.

You responded with a shy smile. “Yeah,” you answered, taking a sip of your cocktail. “I’m actually visiting friends for the holiday in between work,” you answered. “My family isn’t exactly accepting after the whole protest fiasco,” you added nervously. Seungcheol nodded. He remembered seeing you in the background in one of the photos of the protest.

“It was actually pretty cool to see you in the pictures,” Seungcheol said, smiling at you which had heat rising into your cheeks. “I’m sure I looked ridiculous. I was in the middle of screaming,” you answered, remembering the picture in question. Seungcheol shook his head. “I think it was really cool of you,” he replied.

As the night went on, talking with you was surprisingly easier than Seungcheol thought possible.

It wasn’t until your friends appeared with their jackets and claiming to be ready to move onto the next bar that it sank in that he might never get this chance again.

You turned to give him an apologetic smile, taking your coat from your friend.

“It was really great seeing you again.”

“Would you like to get drinks while you’re still in town?”

The two of you had spoken at the same time and over one another so neither picked up on what the other said.

You let out a laugh, the sound making his heart race.

“I’ll be in town until after the first of the year,” you admitted after asking Seungcheol to repeat his question.

“I’d love to get drinks with you.”

╾─────────────⭒✧⭒─────────────╼

You checked your watch, feeling frustrated that it was only 6:45.

You had agreed to meet for drinks with Seungcheol at 7 at the bar at your hotel but in your eagerness to see him again, you’d shown up much too early. You sat at the bar, drumming your fingers lightly against the countertop as you looked around at the decor.

The hotel was one of the nicest you’d stayed in.

The lobby was a large room with floor to ceiling windows, letting in all the natural light during the day. The walls of the lobby were off white with ornate paneling and gold detailing, bringing out the gold veining of the black marbled floors. The furniture was cream with gold legs, simple clean lines like most modern pieces.

The front desk stood across from the grand entrance of the lobby, recessed lighting at the floating base gave the light wood an ethereal look as did the waterfall wall behind the desk with back lighting. The tile of the wall behind the waterfall was a dark navy. In the seating area of the lobby, above the curved back chairs arranged in a circle around a large low circular table was what you thought was the highlight of the room.

An ornate, hanging and lighted art piece, almost like a modern chandelier but much too grand to have been placed in a home. It was easily ten feet tall, hanging in a cascading fashion from the ceiling down to the floor, passing through a cut out in the circular table in the center. It was an incredible sight to behold.

On the other side of the lobby were large floor to ceiling glass windows and doors, leading into what you assumed was the ballroom on one side and the spa on the other side. You had yet to visit either but hoped you got the chance before you had to check out after the first of the year.

You checked your watch again and sighed heavily upon realizing that a mere 7 minutes had passed since you last checked the time. It really was crawling along.

The bar of the hotel was through one of the two archways from the lobby that stood on either side of the front desk. The other archway led to the hall with the elevators leading up to the guest rooms.

The bar was a huge contrast to the light airiness of the lobby.

It was dark with lots of backlit walls and recessed lighting. The walls were dark and textured, catching the lights and casting shadows. The bar was a long slim rectangular, black top and epoxied. The bar along the bottom was gold, matching the gold of the barstools and tables that stood around the room.

You were just glad it wasn’t crowded like it had been the last few nights, though it was still pretty early.

Despite being labeled as a hotel bar, it really felt more like a club atmosphere than a hotel bar. There was a small booth in the corner, sat upon a pedestal where a DJ was currently setting up his gear.

In front of the stage where the booth was, the floor was a different material. A smooth black tile in contrast to the dark cool toned wood of the rest of the room. ‘It must be a dance floor.’

Although it was nearly empty, you were sure soon the room would be packed.

You heard the barstool next to you moved and silently prayed it was Seungcheol and not some random man.

Turning, you were relieved to find it was indeed your date.

Seungcheol gave you a warm smile, offering a breathless “hey” as the dimples on either side of his face appeared. God how you missed that smile.

“Hey,” you replied as he turned to face the bar. “Have you been waiting long?” He asked, looking up at you.

‘Oh only 20 minutes but that’s just because I was much too eager,’ you thought with a grimace.

Shaking your head you gave him a smile. “Nope,” you lied.

Seungcheol could see it in your eyes. You never were a good liar the entire time he spent with you at camp.

Deciding not to tease you about arriving early, he instead turned his head to grab the attention of the bartender who strolled over. “Your date finally arrived!” The bartender said with a wide smile, looking at you.

You felt your face flush. ‘Fuck. Busted.’

Seungcheol chose to ignore that and instead ordered his drink.

“Can I get uh…” he started, grabbing one of the small books sitting on the counter, eyes skimming over the holiday themed cocktails quickly. “A Spiked Cider?” He asked, setting the book down before looking over at you.

“And a—?” He continued, waiting for your order. “A vodka cranberry,” you ordered quickly, having already looked over the little book more times than you were willing to admit, even to yourself.

The bartender said nothing, instead turning to start mixing your drinks.

You allowed your eyes to wander, inspecting what Seungcheol had chosen to wear as he shrugged off his coat, letting it rest against the back of his barstool. He wore a simple black long sleeve shirt, most likely made of satin though it was hard to tell in the low lighting.

His shirt was tucked into a pair of black fitted pants, hugging his thighs and no doubt his backside. He was much more muscular than he had been back at summer camp all those years ago. He finished off his ensemble with a pair of black shoes and a black wool coat.

You tore your eyes from checking out his body as he rolled his sleeves up and turned to look at you, the same warm smile on his face.

“So when do you leave town?” He asked, turning his stool slightly to face you so the two of you could converse smoothly.

“After the first of the year,” you admitted. “I’m only here for work actually,” you added.

Seungcheol nodded before looking around. “Not bad lodgings for a work trip,” he commented to which you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. “Yeah,” you said, chuckling nervously.

Why the hell were you so nervous? It’s not like this was some handsome stranger. This was a guy you spent an entire summer hooking up with when you were younger.

“Have you at least been able to enjoy yourself without work?” He asked, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow sitting on the counter as he looked at you with those dark brown eyes of his.

You nodded silently. “Er— yeah, actually,” you added. “I’ve been able to see some of my friends,” you continued, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you fell into comfortable conversation with Seungcheol. It was like you hadn’t lost touch over the years.

Your drinks arrived shortly after and soon the bar started filling up with patrons. Seungcheol paid for your drinks, though you offered to pay for your own, he wouldn’t hear it. The two of you migrated away from the bar, settling into a small but cozy booth in the corner away from prying eyes of the other patrons.

One drink turned into two and you were nursing your third drink when Seungcheol made a funny remark about one of the bouncers who looked much too serious for his liking.

You nearly spit out your drink, another vodka cranberry, setting the glass on the table top and lightly smacked his arm. “Cheo!” He smiled widely at you, trying to suppress his giggles as you shook your head, trying not to laugh.

“What?” He asked, holding his hands up, laughter finally coming through as you leaned into his side, muffling your giggles in your hand, your other hand landing on his thigh as you supported your weight.

Seungcheol’s eyes fell to your hand resting on his thigh, his heart nearly stopping.

His eyes traveled back up, meeting yours in the dim lighting and your smile slowly fell. You looked down where your hand was resting on his leg and immediately pulled back, a rushed apology tumbling from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, sitting back and trying to put some distance between the two of you.

Before you could scoot away however, you felt his fingers enclose around your wrist and looked up to meet his darkened gaze.

The way he was looking at you had heat rushing through your body to your face and your core.

It was the same way he looked at you almost every night at camp all those years ago.

You knew deep down that if he asked you to leave with him you would.

But would he ask? Or would you?

╾─────────────⭒✧⭒─────────────╼

If someone had bet against Seungcheol that he'd end up in bed with you that night, he would have laughed at them.

But he also would have lost that bet.

He knew from the moment you asked him to come back up to your room he was done for.

And when your lips met his in the elevator, he knew he made the right call in saying yes.

It had been so long since he'd last gotten to taste you and now that he was here again, he wouldn't make the same mistakes as last time. Not calling you after the summer ended was one of his biggest regrets in life and the universe deemed to give him a second chance. He certainly wasn’t going to ruin it.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching off the hotel bed as Cheol licked a trail from your clit up to your navel. "I forgot how good you are at that," you whispered, looking down at him in the dim lighting of the room. He gave you a cheeky smile, moving to hover over you.

"Maybe I should go again, just so you don't forget," he offered, dimples appearing as his smile widened. Your hand moved, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in.

"Maybe later," you replied breathlessly, pressing your lips against his hurriedly. "For now, I'd rather have your lips up here and something else down there," you continued, mumbling against his lips as your hands moved to undo the buckle of his belt.

Seungcheol chuckled against your lips, moving one hand to help you undo his pants.

"Someone's eager," he laughed as you let out a frustrated growl, pulling his belt from the loops on his pants and tossing it away. "I can't tell you how much I missed this," you responded, undoing the button and zipper on his pants and pushing the fabric down enough to grab him through his underwear.

“How much I missed you.”

Whatever snide remark he was about to make slipped his mind as his lips parted and he moaned, hips rolling into your touch.

"Someone's eager," you said with a smirk, mirroring his words.

Seungcheol let out a growl, crashing his lips against yours in a heated fight for dominance, which he won, his hands taking over for yours as he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs.

"You trying to tease me, babygirl?" he asked in a dark tone.

You opened your lips to respond but he'd had enough of your bratty behavior in the past. He didn't give you a chance to respond, lining the tip of his cock with your slit and pushing into you with one hard thrust.

Instead of whatever comment you planned on making, a moan fell from your lips as he bottomed out quickly. Your thighs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Holy shit," you gasped, walls clenching around his girth as you tried to adjust to and accommodate his size. You'd forgotten how big he was.

Your head turned to the side instinctively as you felt him leave soft kisses down your cheek and jaw until his lips were against your pulse point. You waited with baited breath until you felt his tongue flatten against your skin, licking slowing up the side of your neck, stopping to sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh.

You let out a whimper as he sucked harshly, no doubt leaving behind a mark. You were about to ask him to move, beg him for something but your words failed as you felt his teeth graze the exposed skin of your collar, no doubt leaving behind another mark in his wake.

"You know," Seungcheol said as he pulled back, circling his hips and making you gasp at the sudden friction of his cock against your walls.

"You don't have to hold back," he continued, eyes watching the way your face contorted in pleasure as he rolled his hips against yours.

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. "What do you mean?" you asked, moaning as he pulled back and gave you a singular shallow thrust, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

"You don't have to keep quiet."

You were about to make a comeback buy Seungcheol wasn't having it, pulling back again and thrusting into you hard, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck," he growled, starting a heavy pace, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room as he fucked you against the mattress.

"God, I missed fucking this pussy," he panted, hand moving up your chest to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck and squeezing gently as his hips continued their assault.

Whatever bratty remarks you could have made were wiped from your mind as he pounded into you.

"Look at you," Seungcheol said, a smug smirk on his face.

"Barely even begun and you're already a mess under me. Are you not getting fucked properly?" he asked. You couldn't respond, only incoherent moans leaving your lips.

"I asked you a question, baby," he answered, fingers tightening around your neck slightly.

"No!" you gasped out, heart pounding in your ears.

"No, what?" Seungcheol asked, brow furrowed as he continued to thrust hard into you, each drag of his thick cock against your walls had your toes curling and eyes rolling with pleasure.

"No daddy," you whimpered.

The way his heart leapt at the words made his head spin. He'd never felt that pull before with you. What was different this time?

"That's my good girl," he groaned, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, letting go of your throat as he continued to thrust quickly into you. “Ah, shit,” you groaned. You felt his fingers grab your chin firmly.

“Such a dirty mouth,” he growled, thumb brushing over your bottom lip before pushing past the plush skin and into your mouth where you welcomed the intrusion with your tongue, swirling it around his thumb and sucking.

“You always knew how to use it,” he added in a lower voice as he watched your eyes flutter shut.

He pulled his hand back, thumb leaving your mouth quickly as your eyes opened to meet his.

You let out a whine as Seungcheol pulled out of you and grabbed your hip, turning you over onto your stomach. "Take this off," he ordered, tugging at the base of your dress that was currently hiked up around your waist.

He quickly got rid of his own clothes as you slipped your dress off and let it fall to the floor before he was on his knees behind you, lining himself up with your entrance again and entering you with one movement.

From the new angle, you could feel him even deeper.

Moaning, you let your head fall into the sheets as he started a quick and relentless pace, hips hitting your ass as he held your waist tightly in place.

"How are you still so fucking tight?" he groaned, punctuating each word with a particularly hard thrust, ending with a sharp smack to your ass.

As his hand made contact with your skin, your walls clenched around him and his hips stuttered for a moment before he was back in pace.

"Should have known you still like being spanked," he said with a scoff. You pushed back to meet his thrust and felt your adrenaline spike as he growled in response, grip on your waist tightening as he gave you a particularly harsh thrust.

You let out a scream in response, fueling his actions and stroking his ego. "That's right, baby, let everyone hear how good I fuck you," he said softly, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"Let them all know what a good fucking slut you are," he added.

"Mmm, yes daddy," you whined, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts again. "Keep doing that and I'll pin you to the bed and fuck you like the needy little bitch you are."

You let out a moan at his words, wanting nothing more than for him to dominate you. He was much stronger than he'd been during that summer and you wanted him to use that new strength on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, using his strength to push your chest down against the sheets but keeping your ass up.

“Ah~ yes daddy!” You cried out as your body was pinned down.

"Such a needy little slut in heat,” Seungcheol grunted, his thrusts slowing for a moment before he was back to pounding into you with renewed vigor.

“I bet you want me to cum inside your sweet little cunt. Fill you up with my load and breed you," he said through gritted teeth. You moaned, the sound muffled by the sheets as he continued to fuck you hard.

"You'd like me to fill you up? Pump you full of my cum?"

You felt his hand strike your ass again and let out another moan, clenching around him again, drawing him closer to his own climax.

"Oh fuck, keep doing that, baby. Keep squeezing me like that and I'll fucking cum," he groaned, his free hand running soothingly over the red marks on your ass.

"Are you close?" you heard his whisper, making you nod quickly with a mewl as you could feel your own release approaching.

"Of course you are," Seungcheol said with a chuckle. "You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?"

You nodded again, fingers digging into your sheets. "Yes d-daddy!"

"Mm, fuck. Yeah you are. Gonna cum all over this cock and let me fill your pretty pussy?" You nodded again, moans leaving your lips as Seungcheol's thrust started to grow more erratic as he chased his high. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whimpered, your orgasm washing over you as Seungcheol helped you ride it out.

"Shit. Mm gonna-" he hissed. "Do it," you whimpered. "Come inside me, daddy," you moaned, holding onto the sheet and letting him pound into you until his hips finally stilled, and he came with a moan, spilling his load inside you, coating your walls in white.

Neither one of you spoke, only panting as you came down from your highs.

Finally, Seungcheol pulled out of you carefully, grimacing as his release slowly spilled out of you, running down the inside of your thighs.

"Hang on," he murmured, getting off the bed and moving to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and run it under the tap.

He returned, carefully wiping the cloth against your skin, cleaning you up. "You might want to go to the bathroom," he muttered, grimacing as he tried to clean up his semen.

You let out a light chuckle. "This is just like the first time," you replied and Seungcheol couldn't help but laugh in response, remembering how he'd filled you so much that time that it spilled out of you and onto the gym mats in the storage shed.

"I almost forgot about that part," he admitted, helping you up and supporting you to the bathroom as your legs shook slightly. "I couldn't forget it if I tried," you answered in a low voice, not realizing Seungcheol had heard you.

You stopped at the door, turning to look at him.

"Will you be here when I get done?" you asked, looking hopeful.

Seungcheol smiled, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek. "I'm not going anywhere," he responded softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips, causing you to smile brightly.

"Okay, cause I'd actually like to talk some more," you admitted, cheeks heating up under his gaze. His smile widened, dimples appearing on both sides of his face.

"I'd like that, too," he responded.

"We have a lot more to catch up on."

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #series: tales from camp holiday special

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obsessedwhyyes · 28 days ago

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A Tale of Fools and Tricksters - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x Female OC Summary: The Festival of Fools - a carnival of magic and illusions which shall set your heart ablaze and bring your dreams to life. Legends say that the Festival of Fools will grant one wish to those pure of heart and soul - for a price. Seeking a cure for the Curse of Stone which plagues her people, Elysia Thorne seeks the aid of the festival's enigmatic ringmaster, Astarion Ancunin, whose charm is as dangerous as it is irresistible. But as their fates intertwine, it becomes clear that all is not as it seems... Rating: M (some chapters will be explicit) Content: Alternative Universe (Circus), Ringmaster Astarion, eventual smut, dark fairy tale, magic and curses, mild gothic horror elements (but nothing extreme!), Astarion needs a hug.

Chapter Index

Chapter 1: Whispers of Hope (5479 words) Tumblr / AO3 Chapter 2: Looking Glass (5134 words) Tumblr / AO3 Chapter 3: Coming soon... Anticipated 20 chapters.

Moodboards

Elysia Thorne (Part 1 / Part 2) Ringmaster Astarion (Part 1)

A/N: Here we have my first ever longfic! There's something so much scarier about uploading these chapters compared to my usual one-shots - something much more personal! Reblogs, likes, and comments are always so, so appreciated! They let me know if I'm doing something right (or, as is often the case, if I'm doing something wrong). Likewise, my inbox is always open.

AO3 ~ MAIN MASTERLIST ~ TAGLIST

#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #series masterlist #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fluff #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x female oc #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #a tale of fools and tricksters #ringmaster astarion #elysia thorne #circus au #bg3 au #bg3

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childsupervision · 8 months ago

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Accepting NSFW + SFW Fanfic Commissions!

Let's try this one more time:

I write fanfic and you can pay me to write fics to suit your interests! I've engaged with a vast assortment of franchises, mostly anime/ anime-inspired (e.g. Fire Emblem, Persona, Genshin), but even if your fandom of choice isn't in one of those two categories, feel free to get in touch with me and ask.

Here's my AO3 page if you're curious in my past works and my requests collection specifically for past requests (as the name suggests). I confess I got burnt out handling multiple comms at once in the past so want to take my time in this second attempt, but I'll try to meet any deadlines you may have (e.g. if you're coordinating something with another fic/ art commission).

I charge $5 per 500 words, but if we agree on a limit ahead of time and I write over it (e.g. to add an introduction), that's on me. If I under-write by more than 500 words you can keep the change too. However, I reserve the right to turn down or charge extra for any topics/ kinks that make me uncomfortable - but again: give me your pitch and we can go from there. There are a few kinks present in my past works if you want an idea of what I've done before.

While I'm advertising myself primarily as a NSFW writer, I've written SFW sections of stories and pride myself on keeping characters in-character. If you check my portfolio I hope you'll agree.

Reach out to me here, on Reddit (childsupervision) or Discord (herowrath3) if you're interested. My Ko-Fi page is here, but if you don't use USD/ $ contact me for my PayPal since that won't charge you for currency conversion.

Look forward to doing business with you!

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dumpofletterz · 2 years ago

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Uh...

Who I write for:

Any bbb/bbbglx character tbh

Tales of Arcadia

What I write:

Oneshots

Headcanons

Can do and cannot:

Can do

Fluff

Angst

Smut (only for adult/18+ characters)

Nsfw references (or hints)

Platonic

Romantic

x reader

ships that I'm comfortable with

Cannot

Pedophilia

Incest

Ships I'm not comfortable with

Reqs are always open and goodbye

(But it'll probably take me like long...Long time to write them. 🙏😭)

Mostly writes x readers

#boboiboy #monsta #x reader #oneshot #fanfic #writing #writer #boboiboy galaxy #reader insert #x reader oneshot #x reader stories #x reader series #x reader smut #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #wizards #3below

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therealmofamorus · 1 month ago

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Ask (Crossover-RWBY x Xillia, Original au) What does Leia think of Jaune?

"Cute...very cute...and good enough to have as a bedmate." Leia replied as she eyed the cute blonde with a predatory glint.

#tales of series #tales of series smut #tales of xillia #tales of xillia smut #leia rolando #rwby #rwby smut #jaune arc #original male stud au #original male stud au ask #crossover au #crossover au ask

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zelus-a · 2 months ago

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Go check out the Tales of Berseria oneshot I just uploaded!

The Van Eltia is docked during a storm... Eizen discovers Eleanor's feelings for him and Rokurou may not be totally platonic. They agree to give the idea a try.

#tales of berseria #tales of series #berseria #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #smut #one shot

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mafiamono · 1 year ago

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there u go ... i finally finished it xD

my fanfic about phupha x pat ... bc this scene never left my mind :8 anyway, hope u enjoy it :D

(might add some chapters in the future :3)

#bad buddy the series #a tale of thousand stars #pat x pran #pat x phupha #tian x phupha #our skyy 2 #crossover #earth pirapat #earthmix #ohm pawat #ohmnanon #nanon korapat #mix sahaphap #ao3 #fanfic #smut

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taegularities · 5 months ago

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colour me in: palette | jjk (m)

Summary: Breezy mountaintops and turquoise oceans are even more enchanting with Jungkook by your side. Yet, throughout your vacation, you realise — even once you've left the lofty peaks and liberating waves behind, you'll still elevate each other to new heights every day.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; tiny hints of angst, crazy much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: okayyy. a shit ton of fluff. vacation with their friends!!!, kissing, singing, sexual tension, slippery soccer lolll, bit of acrophobia, someone flirts with oc, bit of jealousy, lots of taeun and yoonmin moments, new dynamics!!!, mountains and beaches, jimin/jk moments :'), deep talks, some insecurities, bunk beeeeds lol, mention of homophobia, small arguments, anger, talk about passing of time; explicit sexual content: hotel room sex :O, light spanking/ass stuff, kissing and making out, teasing, neck kisses!!, jk never gets enough, bit of manhandling, pussy slapping, big dick!jk, soft dom!jk, oc is soaked, they're both wearing their shirts/naked downstairs tho (impatience sigh), oral (f. & m. receiving), bit of mouthfucking, soft and rough sex, mention of sex toys, slapping with his dick ig, masturbation, spit, edging?, choking, he likes her bewbs and a$$, squirting, they ruin the hotel room bed lol, showering together; the ending 🥺 ➳ word count: 32.6k ➳ a/n: gosh, it's been mooonths. did y'all miss them as much as i did :') the distance really brought me closer to them. some more of my soul in this chapter <3 there'll be angst ahead, so enjoy this one thoroughly and with all your heart. thank you for all the support, too <3 i can't wait to hear what you guys think 🤍 ➳ listen to: can't help falling in love by haley reinhart (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

DAY 1

“Bunk beds… Fu. Cking. Bunk. Beds.”

Jimin scarcely seems impressed with the change in plans that the hostel is forcing your group into. You haven’t quite yet deciphered what’s going on; you’ve been waiting in the lobby with pursed lips and tired eyes, Jimin at the front desk, discussing details that he’s now groaning about.

“Wait… what?” Eun asks, eyes scanning the group members, all equally confused.

Jimin, as agitated as you haven’t seen him in a while, plumps into one of the lobby’s upholstered sofa chairs, massaging his forehead, seemingly preparing to narrate a tale without a happy ending. He sighs, raising his hand as if to teach calculation to a child, and starts explaining.

“We’d booked three rooms, right? But one of them has a leak.” Short pause; Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So now they offered to keep one with the queen size bed and then get another room with two bunk beds. We’d pay less. Or. We keep the other two rooms with the beds, and still pay for the bunk bed room since one couple will still need it.”

“Same price?” Yoongi inquires, aside from Jungkook, the calmest in the room.

“Oh my god,” Eun whispers, matching Jimin’s drama-loving freak, “this is… we’re being robbed.”

“So,” Yoongi tries again, a deep voice interrupting your best friends’ growing hysteria, “we just pay less and get the bunk bed room for four people, no?”

Eun and Jimin stare at the man as if he’s uttered sheer nonsense; Eun’s eyes squint, questioning how he’d dare separate her from her boyfriend. And Jimin, his expression equal to Eun’s, directs the disbelief between his eyebrows directly at his lover speaking.

But as the options start to waver, Eun sighs, leaning back in defeat as she mumbles, “I guess…”

“Yeah, and then, who’s getting the queen sized bed?” you ask carefully, likely initiating another feud; but what else can you do? You need to resolve the issue on hand and you’re dog tired; you need to nap for an hour at least. “How do we decide that?”

“That’s the question,” Jimin declares, rubbing his hands before he announces, “I think we’ll have to fight for it, folks.”

“…How?”

Multiple pairs of eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, attempting to come up with a fair idea or some game. But their schemes are probably too intricate, building scenarios that aren’t feasible in this very situation; you can already tell.

That is, until Taehyung speaks up, slapping his thigh as he finally answers, “We’ll just go the easiest way we know.”

The fact that Jungkook and Yoongi puff out a breath of air is understandable; as Kim Taehyung’s closest pals, they’re bound to know which thought lit up his brain. But by now, even you understand the man’s tactics well enough, and before you can verbalise them, Yoongi does.

“…Wait. You want to rock paper scissors this out?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We just pull names? Or spin the wheel? There are plenty of sites on the Internet.”

“No,” Jimin again, “I don’t trust any of you to not manipulate this.”

Voices soon mingle, offended by Jimin’s distrust, retorts flying around such as, “Oh, thanks for this,” or “Why would we manipula—”

“Come on!” Jimin defends, cutting through the cacophony of arguments. “We’re all a bunch of newlyweds! Nobody wants to sleep without the other.”

Well… maybe he’s not wrong there. Over the last several weeks, you’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend’s warmth next to you; under your head; beneath your palm. His breath against your cheeks and the chin in your mane.

Which is why you tilt your head in slight, approaching worry, leaning into Jungkook’s embrace, his arm over your shoulders. You look at him until he stares back, telling him as the others argue, “This is terrible. I just got used to sleeping with you and…”

But he shakes his head in reassurance, blinking slowly. Gently grabs your hand off his chest and intertwines your fingers, promising that, “It’s okay, babe. Whatever game they want to play, we’ve got this.”

If he says it, you must believe it. Losing would be counterproductive for this trip; you required this time-out with him for the sake of your sanity, considering the weight of the past months.

And thinking about it, you’ve gotten used to his presence too much to sleep without it. You reminisce about the nights he hit the gym late, barely finding time throughout the day as he worked on his exhibit pieces, permanent smudged hues colouring the sides of his hands.

And you, exhausted from work, grazed the other side of the bed with a half sleeping, half restless mind, waking up time and time again to find the mattress empty. Whenever he did come back, sliding into the sheets, you’d notice.

Notice everything.

How he’d kiss your forehead or your temple, whispering your name or a soft, “Hi, angel,” without really expecting a response back. He’d pull you half on top of his body, chest rising with your head atop as he sighed and then, eventually, drifted off.

You think that once or twice, you even heard him breathe a nearly inaudible confession, starting with your new favourite letter L.

But…

It seems that today, luck isn’t quite on your side; different from what he foretold, you haven’t got this. Because mere five minutes later, you’re staring into a group of shaking heads and devastated faces.

Jimin and Yoongi have lost already; and when it’s time to decide between the remaining of you four, it’s not you who breaks into cheerful laughter but the couple you’ve decided to regard with a pout for the rest of the trip.

Unnecessary to mention that Tae and Eun dash into their room once they’ve received the key, quick enough for their suitcases to collide with their soles as they roll behind them. The two remaining duos, among them a sighing Jungkook and a disappointed you, trudge to the bunk bed room without any rush.

Jimin and you sulk your way through the hallways, but Yoongi and Jungkook, you soon notice, remain familiarly posed. You don’t get it; aren’t they upset about the separation?

Your boyfriend at least is still sporting an encouraging smile when you open the door to the frustratingly compact room. The two pairs of bunk beds have a sufficient distance between them, but the beds themselves barely fit a person. You’ve been played so bad.

“And what if we do take the second double room and let fate decide between us?” Jimin suddenly suggests, and you nearly buckle, ready to get into position and lift your fist for another game.

But Yoongi pushes between the two of you, clicking his tongue, “Nah. It’s just two nights, we’ll be moving on after that anyway. Besides,” he sets his suitcase against the left bunk bed, claiming it, and ruffles through his long, dark hair, “we can’t leave the last couple all alone here.”

You smirk in mock, tilting your head, “Ha-ha. You’re way too sure of victory. You wanna try right now, Min—”

“Come on,” Jungkook tries, two heavy hands settling on your shoulders before he moves them down and rubs your shoulders in affection, “solidarity, baby. It’ll be fun.” He moves in, close to your face, kisses your cheek and then whispers into your ear, “We’ll have our room at the beach. And then a whole week just for us, remember?”

Oh, as if you could forget.

Jungkook’s hometown will be the third and last stop of your vacation, a wedding and a childhood bedroom awaiting you. You can’t predict what those days in the countryside will bring, but you refuse to think about them; not because you’re reluctant to go, but because you want the place to surprise you.

Nevermind that the thoughts still seep through all the time; the pure elation.

Your face warms at the thought; you’ve communicated it a million times and will say it a billion times more — you don’t think you’ve ever been this pumped in your life.

No — do not think about it. Let it come to you… carpe diem and all that.

You jump back into the moment, right into the banter, placing your suitcase on the floor and opening it to rummage for today’s outfit. As you shamelessly lay open your entire wardrobe, including some of your best lingerie, you tease, “Okay. I’ll save up my energy. More tonight, boys.”

Jimin blows a raspberry at you; Yoongi waves you off with a grin; and Jungkook barely reacts to you. You assume he’s tired from all the driving, requiring rest more than you, eyes half-lidded.

But if you were in his head, you’d know that he’s long dissociated from the conversation, blending out words, movements, reactions; rather, he merely observes your smile. The playful crease between your eyebrows. The curve of your lips as you speak.

Blinking slowly; lucky for the force of nature wafting into his life like a brisk autumn wind.

Lucky, knowing that somebody could actually care so much.

The pullover doesn’t feel as soft and smooth between your fingertips as it looked from afar. You don’t think you’ll take it. But the beige cardigan felt like a shawl made of accumulated feathers against your body; and Jungkook approved of it, too.

You’re liking the village; maybe it’s the overall dreamy and magical vibe it emanates. It’s redolent of cosy nights spent in front of a fireplace, a hot tea cup warming your palms as you study the view out of a small window, the far-reaching blankets of snow.

And the scent of wooden houses and cinnamon travels through this place — you can’t describe it, but you urge to take all the earthy colours with you.

The pink dress, however, hugging your body like second skin, is bright, the opposite of the cardigan you’ve already settled on buying. It’s a fall dress, comfortable and adaptable to any situation.

You turn in front of the mirror, inspecting your ass, your curves, checking the length and the material for possible flaws. And once you’ve convinced yourself, you push the curtain aside, seeking a second opinion from the man patiently sitting in front of the changing room.

Upon seeing you, his eyes brighten the way they did the last couple of times. Even when he didn’t quite like the item you chose, he seemed happy to just see you. But this time, his pupils flit from button to top, the sparkle in them already obvious as he says, “Damn.”

“I take it you like it as much as I do.”

“Do one of your three sixty spins.”

He loves those. Enjoys it when you present yourself with that treacly smile of yours, arms angled and slightly in the air. And when you come to a stand again, the dress still sways, your eyes questioning, sweet, pure. Jungkook finds joy in this; he could look at you doing this all day.

You keep asking, “Are you bored? Wanna go somewhere else?”

And he always responds, “No. Show me another one of the dresses.”

But no matter how boundless his enthusiasm, he can’t control his occasionally occurring ticks — you know they’re a sign of a nervous mind, watching his fidgety self card through his hair or move his leg or cross and uncross his arms.

So you ask, “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m just tired,” he explains, “driving all day made me drowsy.”

Well, okay, that could be a reason. He does get restless when he craves his bed. Kudos to him for still enduring your slow ass at shopping. You hum before you remind him, “I told you to let me drive.”

“Yes, but…. I like driving,” he shrugs his shoulders, pouting a little, “and you were having fun.”

Honestly—

Fun is a way to call it. You pluck at the hem of the fall dress, recalling the morning with a fond but slightly guilty smile.

“Okay. Lean back now.”

The road was challenging, Jungkook’s voice too quiet to prevail over the music, and you too reckless. Despite the chaos, his grin was telling — though the crinkles and dimples disappeared when half your body turned towards the backseat; right when the car approached a sharp curve.

A harsh hand pushed your beaming self back into your seat, and he spat a single warning, “Angel!”

You’d separated the large group — Jimin was driving the other car, alternating with Taehyung. The journey wasn’t awfully long, but you still went the fair route and split your circle in three versus three, Yoongi residing in the back of your car.

Your car because you’d be driving on to the wedding anyway, and Yoongi would then proceed the vacation in Taehyung’s vehicle. But while your excitement for Jungkook’s hometown didn’t dim a single bit, you were a little sad that you’d be leaving earlier, not getting more time with Yoongi.

Because he vibed. With the right people, you heard, and now witnessed, he vibed.

He sang along with the music in confidence, flashing gummy smirks, DJ-ing with you. Sharing the same taste in music as you, the moments were never dull, 80s classics chiming before modern hip hop took their place. Yoongi likes J. Cole particularly.

The two of you were exhausting, but you did pamper the driver enough to not let your annoying self become too obvious. As in, feeding Jungkook snacks whenever you could, indulging in his favourite music when your tracks ended, offering to drive.

Jungkook remained in a good mood most of the way, but nearing the end, he got edgy, tired, even disregarding Yoongi’s sarcastic suggestion to drive wordlessly.

It took you a moment to understand — Yoongi isn’t a bad driver at all, as you’ve been told by himself, but he’s still not fully healed yet. None of you would make him and he wouldn’t risk it.

Mad respect to Jungkook for suffering through your shenanigans and then still being your anchor as the trouble about the rooms began at the hostel.

You’re a handful — but he has confessed a hundred times before that he’d rather have that than an empty palm.

“No wonder you’re tired,” you tell him, flattening the already crinkle-free dress before you add, “Poor Jimin and Yoongi. Were separated in the cars and now in the hostel, too.”

“I mean,” Jungkook starts, “they both seemed to have a good time on the way, though. Other than that, have they even made stuff official yet?”

Good question. Barely occurred to you yet. You think back to the last couple of weeks, to each of the weekend meetings that you’d summon everybody to in order to discuss the trip. Nothing was said then. Nothing has been said since this morning, either.

So you say, “Kind of by just being with each other the way they are, right? To be honest, I didn’t even think about it. For me, it was already official… didn’t think it’d need an announcement.”

“Maybe you’re right? It’s as much of a secret as we are.”

You break into a grin. “Right?” And then, you straighten your stance, once more turning to show off your ass, too, just for good measure. “What do you think?”

“Oh, you should buy it.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’d be good to look at and then fun to rip off.”

You roll your eyes so hard, they nearly disappear from his sight; partly to hide the effect his words practise on you — face hot, chest tight, legs crossed to ease the physical feeling that emerges.

And then, partly to remind him of where he’s sitting right now — not far from an elderly lady who’s currently side-eying you. Weird; just a minute ago she was smiling at you. Ah, decency.

“Ugh, can you only think about that?” you joke, right before wiggling a finger. “This one’s expensive. You’re not ripping off shit.”

“Hey, don’t scold me. You’re just as bad!”

“I’m not! In case you don’t remember, I totally resisted when you offered to come into the changing room with me.”

“Ah, ahhh,” he teases, cocking an eyebrow, “in case you don’t remember, only very reluctantly.” You can’t suppress the laugh, and he joins, familiar creases around his stellar eyes. “But seriously, you look gorgeous.”

“Right! I’ll wear it to your next exhibition, okay? Or the party you’ll definitely host once you’ve established yourself as the nation’s biggest artist.”

And that’s when he finally gets up, groaning a tiny bit before he slaps your ass and rubs it, delighted at your yelp. Challenges you, “Decide whether you want to be cute or sexy. I can’t handle both.”

“But you do every day,” you say, sulking. But your expression returns to normal when he pinches your butt, and you click your tongue, “Okay, okay. We’ll see what you can handle once we get to our next destination.”

Where you’ll finally have your own bedrooms. Your peace. Your mattress to be demolished.

Excited doesn’t do this feeling justice.

Jungkook must be thinking something similar; at least that’s what you ascertain from the way he tongues his inner cheek, shaking his head. You don’t provoke him further — only blow a kiss before you saunter back into the changing room.

You purchase the dress, stepping into the fall air, and move your head left and right in search of the rest of you. You ask, “Have you seen the others? I think we lost them at the souvenir shop, but they might be nearby.”

“Yeah, they went into another souvenir sho— wait, that’s Eun, isn’t it?”

You squint into the distance.

God, this place is like a Christmas market straight from 90s movies. Traditional and homely, domestic and gentle. Oozes some type of warmth that defeats the slightly chill breeze by miles.

And you’re so loving the shops. They’re small, their owners as hospitable as you haven’t met in ages. They talk to you, treat you like one of their own, never attempting awkward conversation and always providing their honest opinion. The lady you just bought the dress from even told you to visit again.

Shit, and the stalls! They’re popular spots; the backbone of the tourism in this area. Sell all kinds of snacks — candied fruits, hot drinks, gingerbread. October hasn’t ended yet, but you crave your golden Christmas lights.

Somewhere not too far, you finally recognise Eun and Yoongi, too, standing at the punch stall, ordering. Thinking about it, it’s been a while since you ate or drank — and just imagining the fruity flavour, you can’t help but suggest, “Ohhh, I should get some, too. Wanna come?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Your suspicion from before somewhat returns; his thoughts don’t seem to align with yours right now. In fact, you guess them far away, pondering about anything but punch.

You’re moved to ask again, but before you can utter a word, he answers, “Hmm, no, I think I’ll get a coffee a bit later. I’ll go find Jimin and Taehyung in the meantime, though? You go get your punch.”

You blink at him, not sure if you should try again. But when you can’t find a reason for any deviation in mood, you give him the free space he might need, telling him, “Okay. You know where to find us if you need to.”

“Got it,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead, and then walks away when you do.

Just once more, you turn, gaping over your shoulder in confusion; but he seems okay. Occupied by the view, craning his neck to look at the mountain nearby, at the very peak you’ll reach tomorrow.

So you turn away, only for him to regard you a moment later.

Jungkook watches as you reach your friend, Eun’s arm cheerfully wrapping around your shoulders, welcoming you in. You give the stall owner a knockout smile, and once distracted enough, Jungkook directly charges for the shop the two of you walked past earlier.

It’s still mostly empty when he reaches it. One young man, much like him, is standing inside, discussing an object lying on the pult between him and the seller. Jungkook glances through the store window, spying the object of his desire, and then walks in.

Enduringly, he waits for the other man to finish. Seems he is a customer, too, buying his grandmother a gift for her birthday. And it looks like he’s more or less firm on his decision, because not even two minutes later, he has thanked the woman behind the counter and left.

Jungkook, equally determined, points to the purchase he’d like to make, making small-talk with the woman now and then before she disappears in a small room at the back and packs the object.

And Jungkook waits… waits calmly until a voice breathes a, “What you doing?” into his ears, scaring him to death. The woman leans back, peeking, alarmed as she asks in an accent, “Everything good?”

Jungkook waves her concerns off. Lets her work. Turns to Jimin as he says, “Goddamn, dude. Don’t do that.”

“You look like you saw a ghost. Are you hiding something?” he asks, right before the lady walks out and presents the pretty packaging and small bag to Jungkook. “Oh! Is this for me?”

Jungkook pays with a scoff, carefully placing it in his bag and then laughs, “C’mon.” And once the rucksack is back on his shoulders, he bids his goodbyes to the seller, leading Jimin outside and whispering as if you could hear, “Alright. It’s for her. I’ll give it to her at the wedding.”

“Damn, a little present for the date at a wedding? You’re down bad.”

“How did you guess that?” Jimin chuckles, patting Jungkook’s back as the younger one smirtles. Soon telling Jimin, “Not a word to her, though. Or anyone. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

That’s it. At least for a while. Both pairs of hands pushing into their jeans’ pockets at once, they trek side by side in silence, head moving left, right, up and down. It’s awkward until it isn’t — until Jimin collects some courage and then spits, “Listen.”

Another pause. Just for a moment. Enough for Jungkook’s tremendous eyes to look up, a finger scratching his temple as he hears Jimin articulate words he never expected, “I know I said my piece that night already, but…” A grimace, kissing his lips, then, “I’m really sorry for doubting you so much at first. I should’ve given you a chance much sooner.”

Well, fuck.

For weeks and months, Jimin refused to trust him with a steadfast resolution. Didn’t waver even when you attempted to convince him otherwise. There was a prickly dislike in the man’s eyes that irked Jungkook, and frankly, saddened him a little.

But the night you drunk-called him, begging to come back, minutes before he chauffeured all of you home, something shifted. Jimin’s stance towards Jungkook had seemed to change, at least. Actually a grateful occurrence to think back to, considering how much Jungkook fucked up at that time…

“But you have given me a chance now,” Jungkook defends, Jimin nodding, “and I appreciate that just as much.”

“You remember what I said to you back then?”

Of course… he might remember each detail of that night forever.

“Of course,” Jungkook echoes, “you said you were growing fond of me. Trusted me.”

“And I meant it.”

“She said you said it because you knew she was fond of me.”

Jimin chuckles, the sound high-pitched and pleasant, melodic. “Well, I guess that’s true to some extent. But it’s definitely not just that.” He reviews his thoughts; then, “It’s more so the fact that you came back.”

That he came back.

Jimin doesn’t mention that he came back because you called. Because somewhere within, he must know as well as the man beside him that Jungkook was going to come back anyway.

Nobody here doubts his feelings for you. And in some way, this is a reassurance of trust he didn’t think he needed.

“And in hindsight,” Jimin speaks on, “while I disagree with what you did before that,” a sting in Jungkook’s beating heart, “I think your reasons were selfless. Lack of communication here and there, but… you want her happy, right?”

There’s no debate about this.

“So much,” Jungkook immediately agrees, “it just doesn’t make sense, you know? That someone like her should be sad.”

“I agree. And you came back, that’s what it is. You’re here. I think I was fond of you because you gave her a sense of… safety.” He shrugs his shoulders, hands still buried in his pockets. Gives a glance to the variety of passersby. “Making her feel protected and like she was worth something when others didn’t. And in turn, you gave her something to fight for, too.”

Something to fight for… someone to fight for.

How hard is it to wrap your head around the fact that somebody thinks you worthy enough to combat the world for?

Jungkook’s heart stirs. A sudden affection for your friend awakens. No. His friend, too.

“You’re just half as bad, huh?” he says, urging another laugh out of Jimin.

“No, you.” More snicker. “But seriously. Since we were teenagers and she was first confronted with… all the issues around her, she’s repeated to me everybody has demons to fight. A couple weeks ago she said it again… added that you do, too. No details, no worries!”

He raises his hand in defence, and Jungkook shakes his concerns off, mumbling that it’s okay, that it’s true.

So Jimin continues, “But just… whenever you might feel like you’re not doing enough — because let’s be real, we all do sometimes — remember that you make at least one person happy.”

Crazy. This is crazy. An alternate reality, for sure.

“I never expected to hear this from you, but… I really am thankful, Jimin.”

Jimin nods before he stops, as if remembering something. “And if it helps. I’m really glad you joined us here. I mean you know Tae and Yoongi better, but Eun loves you.”

Jungkook titters, shy as Jimin nudges his arm, but silencing when he looks ahead, not early enough to stop Jimin’s addition, “And by the way, she’ll love that. Will feel like the bride, probably—”

Jungkook grits his teeth at the very last word, as if staggered by another ghost appearing in front. Jimin’s eyes follow Jungkook’s, eyes widening a couple inches as he realises his mistake; met with your bright gaze as you near the men with Eun and question, “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re so cheerful and curious, impossible to resist. Jimin’s lie nearly doesn’t come out, but when it does, it happens smoothly enough, “He was just gushing about your dress. Told me how he already knows you’ll be the talk of the night.”

“Come onnnn,” you urge, your smile falling, replaced by a scowl, “this is so weak. I know you, Park. That’s not what you were talking about.”

“It is!” Jungkook chimes in as shamelessly as he can. Guilt floods him — but there are certain sacrifices that are necessary for love, aren’t there? “I told you many times how hot you look in it. I did, you can’t contradict that.”

Jungkook’s acting might be getting better, but you still squint your eyes, still pulling a face. But it seems they are conspiring against you; Jungkook clearly sees you give up. Understand that you won’t get anything out of them.

Besides, you love surprises. You won’t ruin it for yourself.

So you wave the white flag, only saying, “I don’t really believe you, but okay,” before turning, gripping Jungkook’s hand and adding, “Listen. You don’t get to drink a good punch every day. Screw the coffee, try it for me. Yoongi is still there.”

And as the two of you walk away, Jimin follows, ignoring Eun’s curious look. Focuses on how Jungkook turns to him just a little, smiling in mischief but also in something like…

Friendship.

Jungkook has been babbling his mouth dry. You know of his temporary hyperfixations; alternating between cooking twice a day, karaoke-ing his way through a lazy weekend or playing Overwatch for four hours straight and of course, you.

Tonight, it’s gimbap.

You’ve heard a ton about it today; from his favourite kind to how it’s made to failures in his past as he first attempted them. Anecdotes and urges.

When you went to the restaurant earlier, he inhaled a gigantic portion of jjajangmyeon, followed by kimchi-bokkeumbap that he partly shared with your still hungry self. His idea was to order some gimbap as another course, but his grunts and groans revealed that he was done for the night.

Or so you thought.

Because hours and a trip to the old town and its popular fountain later, he’s still craving them, restless on the hostel lobby couch as he says, “Do they have room service or something? Do they sell gimbap?”

His attention is directed towards Jimin, the main organiser of your trip; everybody’s been posing questions today as if he’s studied the town and journey to the tiniest detail. Jimin rubs a palm over his tired eyes, sighing before he speaks.

“No, this isn’t a very luxurious place anyway,” he explains, “and besides. You’re making me hungry, too.”

Jungkook leans into him as he asks, “Aren’t you quite close with the receptionist?” Pause. “Do you think they’d let us take a couple things from the kitchen and make it ourselves?”

“Wow, you really are craving it,” Taehyung mocks, but Jungkook skillfully ignores him.

“Jungkook, this is a lot of special treatment to ask for,” Jimin then claims, waiting for a response, but nothing comes back.

You lean forwards when your friend shakes his head, trying to understand what’s going on. And when you find Jungkook’s big, twinkling eyes staring longingly, you know he’s gotten to Jimin, too. Because the latter sighs again, adding, “If you charm them, maybe.”

“Come on. I know how to charm people,” he says, regarding you with a wink, a flick of your chin and a click of his tongue, all at once. You whisper a playfully indignant Damn, watching him get to a stand.

He’s brave, you must say; for an initial and past introvert, good food certainly makes him courageous. Jimin first gestures towards the reception, mumbling a, “Go ahead,” but barely a second later, he’s on his feet with a deep exhale, hearing Jungkook say, “Decided to help me?”

“Only because I’m hungry, too. Can make them together.”

Whatever scenario you just witnessed, it could’ve been one from a sitcom. Those little filler scenes, there for comic relief. But what strikes you the most of all is the dynamic you just watched emerge.

You’re surprised to the core; these two, doing something together? Peacefully? Voluntarily?

As your eyes bolt from the duo to the hanging guitar at the wall and then to your friends, you let out a tiny laugh, delivering a short head tilt before you deduce, “That’s new.”

It’s quite a show, the one you observe from here. Your friends are already too groggy to converse, instead indulging in the scene: Jungkook and Jimin as they converse with the receptionist, leaning in, telling the young man about their day.

Then, the quiet plea, as sweetly uttered as possible; you know these two. You know they’re pulling out the biggest, brownest eyes the world shall ever see, the mellowest voices outing their plea — and to your utter surprise, the receptionist gives in.

Leads them to another room, probably the breakfast hall, and around five minutes later, they reemerge.

Your group giggles when they come out with a wink, Jungkook forming a tiny ‘Oh’ with his mouth, as if to whistle without ever doing it. They don’t come back to you yet; settle on another table at the back instead, hands full of ingredients. There’s more room there for sure.

They spread the stuff across the table, rolling up their sleeves. You can’t really hear their conversation from here, but Jungkook says something and Jimin smirks back with a slight shake of his shoulders. Then, they start, but not before choosing a playlist to play quietly as they attempt the gimbap journey.

You can’t believe it. What an odd sight — but good for them.

“That’s rare indeed,” Eun lets slip before she turns back to you and the group, falling back into the couch.

You nod, looking through the round. Different from the two across the room, the atmosphere here is dead. So you wait; wait for an opportunity until Yoongi, opposite from you, gives you one. His eyes roam the room, soon stopping at the guitar from before. He regards it entirely, like a piece in a museum.

You ask, “Hey. Do you play?”

“Hm?” Yoongi looks back at you, puppy eyes in full effect, and then switches between you and the instrument. “Ah. Yeah, I play sometimes.”

“He plays all the time,” Taehyung corrects.

Yoongi raises a hand in something like defence, humble as ever as he says, “I’ve been learning. But I think I have gotten better, though there’s still a long way to go.”

“Any song you enjoy playing the most?” you ask, leaning in.

“Ohh, you’ll like this.” His eyes are widening, waking, sobering up. As you see new stars being born in his dark eyes, you know you’ve introduced the right topic. “You like oldies, don’t you?”

“I do, actually! How do you know?”

Taehyung chimes in, “Jungkook told us. Like literal months ago.”

Perhaps it’s the new sentiments you’re still accommodating yourself to, but you feel the heat filling up your entire chest, moving up to your cheeks and providing warmth in the eye of this autumn.

You peek at your boyfriend and your friend, catching them falling into a goofy cooking session. Jimin grabs the dark soy sauce bottle, attempting to pour the liquid on his plate with the most dramatic expression you have ever witnessed, only to realise a moment later that he hasn’t even opened it yet.

Both of them break into an embarrassed and amused chuckle, Jimin shaking his head, and before you can melt into the leather couch, you look away with a smile.

“Wait,” you say, “in which context? I’m nosy, and now I want to know.”

“He said Yoongi would like you because your favourite song is… what was it again?”

Taehyung directs his gaze imploringly to Yoongi, but it’s Eun who answers fondly, “It’s Can’t Take My Eyes off You. Ever since… always.”

You cock an eyebrow at Yoongi, teasing, “So is it true? Do you like me then?”

“I adore you.”

Your face heats up more. “You didn’t tell me what you like playing the most.”

“I would say I enjoy…”

“Or wait. Don’t tell me. What if you played it?”

“Now hold on—”

Energised, you take a stand, throwing a look at the receptionist who locks eyes with you at just the right moment. You point to the guitar, and he lifts his hand to gesture, “Go ahead, please.”

You take the guitar off its hook, grazing over the smooth, wooden surface and skimming the strings for a tiny moment. Relishing the familiar feeling. And then, encouragingly, you hand it to the man of the hour, telling him, “I know you want to.”

Yoongi is uncaring and unapologetically him, but he’s just as shy when met with attention. Yet, you know him enough to understand he often does whatever somebody asks of him, so you’re barely surprised when he flashes a thin-lipped smile and agrees, “Yeah. Alright.”

He situates the guitar on his lap carefully, treating it like a newborn as he mutters at the same time, “What should I play? Maybe this?”

His fingers strum a few chords that you don’t recognise, tough ceasing when he starts working on tuning the guitar. It takes a moment; a time you spend in silence, watching Taehyung for a second as he props up his head, eyelids half closed.

You shrug your shoulders, telling Yoongi, “Whatever crosses your mind first.”

He doesn’t answer, handling the instrument. He’s focused, his lips slightly apart, his expression impossibly composed. He murmurs another, “This should do,” and when he plays just the first three chords, you already know what he’s chosen.

Sounds like an acoustic version of the song. Like it could be played at a wedding, plucking the strings in the background as the bride marches to her groom, fitting the theme of the song.

“Which one’s this?” Eun asks, leaning into Taehyung who’s barely alive at this point. The music probably doesn’t help.

But apart from him, most of the heads turn, even if just very few present. There’s a quiet couple near Jimin and Jungkook’s table, smiling at the pleasant intrusion. The receptionist puts his lower arms onto the counter, listening in.

And then, eyes still fixated on the fingers skillfully mastering each note, you clarify, “Dance Me to the End of Love. Leonard Cohen originally, but this seems like a very… calm version of it.”

Yoongi nods a little, never stopping the music, but adds, “The Civil Wars. Covered it.”

“Right.”

The ambiance changes immediately. You wish you could lower the lights, embrace all that you hear, save it in your eardrums like a memory stick could. From afar, you notice luminous eyes directed at you, blinking slowly, hands still working, but giving you some momentary attention.

Is Jungkook thinking the same as you? If he stood now, gently pulling you into the middle of the room, would you care who watches as you dance? Could this be the magical moment that soon awaits you in a very near future? Swaying at the wedding…

You break the longing gaze when Jimin nudges Jungkook’s elbow, chin nodding towards your group as if the latter isn’t already watching. It seems they have advanced, nearly done with their endeavours. Not too long until they can join you again.

Another minute passes until Yoongi proceeds to the bridge and the peak of the song, and then another until he’s reached the end. Calm, soft thrums. Fading slowly, snapping you out of something you didn’t know just yet.

Heavy affection crowds your chest, lifting all sorrows off your heart. You’re filled with fondness. Empty of pain. Weighing everything and nothing.

Yoongi looks up at you with another awkward smile, still humble, his lips a straight line. The few people in the room applaud quietly, and as he puts the guitar down, you ask, “And how did that feel?”

“Surprisingly…” Yoongi angles his head, and then changes the movement into a nod. “Comforting.”

“Isn’t that special? Feeling something through the very music you put your soul into?”

It’s how you feel when you write. Probably how Jungkook feels when he draws. To possess something, be it creative or not, that floods you with joy like this is priceless. You think back to when you wrote your first poem. Or when you crafted your very first short story.

The memories are blurred, but you remember the feeling. Putting the dot at the end of the very last sentence. And then, you remember more than just this.

Remember when your father taught you how to play the piano, too, and remember when he—

“You play?” Yoongi suddenly asks, and you look up in surprise.

Oh. What? Your eyes widen, eyebrows lifting, mouth wanting to ask what he said, even though you know exactly which question he posed. But you soon break into a satisfied grin.

“How do you know?” you wonder.

“You talk like you do.”

“I didn’t want to give any spoilers,” Eun confesses from the side, comfortably closing into Taehyung, “so I didn’t say anything. But I’ve heard her play.”

“Ah,” you voice, “not often. Was I any good?”

“As much as I remember.”

Your eyes wander back to Yoongi, the man already working on handing you the guitar over the table between the two of you. You puff out a breath, nearly declining, but then recall that he did this for you, too.

So you grab it for the moment, explaining, “I… I play a little. Dad taught me the guitar and a bit of the piano when I was younger.” You mimic Yoongi’s gestures from before, making yourself comfortable with the bottom of the guitar on top of one leg. “Always enjoyed the guitar more, though. Felt productive, feeling the cornea on my fingertips.”

“Damn…” Taehyung makes, and you smile at him, nodding as if to say, “You’re alive, too!”

“Then you should definitely play something,” Eun says.

“You’re all okay with that?”

“Please,” Yoongi confirms, gesturing for you to start, “you don’t need our permission at all.”

So you nod. Getting used to the steely feeling, preparing mentally as you don’t need to tune the guitar anymore. You start the song in mind, an equally important oldie as Yoongi’s piece; and then you go another brave step further as you start humming.

You wish Taehyung, Jungkook or Jimin could do that for you. They’re better singers. You’re alright, certainly not a pro, singing your words rather quietly when you do start. But it provides you with deep relaxation, and you inwardly hope your voice does the same for the others.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

You don’t know why you chose this song. You don’t know why you didn’t settle with your usual choice. Something about the moment and the starry night urged you to pick out this very melody, holding onto the charm and spark tingling in the air.

Yoongi, an introvert among so many extroverts in your circle, is the one who chimes in soon, singing the chorus and then moving to the third verse. You entrust him with the latter, giving you time to open your eyes that you didn’t realise were shut.

You see the two boys at the end of the room finally emerge, slowly treading towards you with full plates. They plump onto the free seats right under the wall where the guitar previously hung, placing the gimbap in the middle of the table.

Taehyung helps himself to one portion, Eun soon following, but Jungkook…

Jungkook seems to have forgotten about it. He walked to you from one spot to where you sit, but as he looks at you now, you wonder how he moved at all. So mesmerised, like a flawless statue, bambi eyes filled with a tenderness you thought only exists on TV.

If you could guess, you’d say he’s looking at you like… like he’d die for you.

Love. Yearning. Affection uncurbed.

He cradles his cheek, putting his elbow on the arm of the couch, lost as if he’s dreaming. He could fully throw you out of balance just now. If you hadn’t played this song with your father a dozen times, committing each movement to memory, you probably would’ve long failed.

You shut your eyes for a moment enough to catch yourself, hearing Yoongi finish another chorus when you suddenly hear another switch in voices. Jungkook, singing the outro, so effortlessly and tenderly; the tone so angelic without even trying.

You could fall asleep. You could fall deeper.

You never knew you could.

Jungkook is the living proof that, despite not being the biggest sap to walk the Earth, you’ve grown fond of his little gestures. You didn’t think you could feel so shy over the way he kisses the air in your direction, expression so hazy.

A couple months ago, you would’ve never expected not to roll your eyes over his little, gentle antics.

But you’re not. Instead, you’re trying not to let show how much he affects you, nodding towards the applause before you ask, “So I take it, it was good?”

“Good?!” Eun blurts in disbelief, leaving it at that with a shake of her head.

“You keep surprising me, angel,” Jungkook admits, “I don’t know what to do with this anymore.”

“With what?”

He’s close enough for his mouth to kiss your cheek, an eyebrow lifting in tease as he puts a hand on his heart. This time, you do roll your eyes, albeit still going in when he gives your lips the tiniest peck.

Your heart is still in the process of accelerating when he asks, “You chose the right song, didn’t you?”

Yeah. A little dose of Elvis’s Can’t Help Falling in Love fits the situation quite well, doesn’t it?

You merely answer with a flattered smile, nearly going in for another, longer kiss; another touch in your own little bubble, suspending time and the world. But your manners demand differently, so you resist, leaning back.

Only taking his hand until the group comes alive a little more, feasting on the midnight snack that the men handled pretty well. The group changes up with time, seats abandoned and taken, switched with another, the guitar cautiously passed on to Yoongi again.

And then they sing some more. You listen, head on Jungkook’s shoulder, dozing in and out of sleep, in and out of his embrace.

Taehyung is soon encouraged to sing a couple, gorgeous snippets of Fly Me to the Moon, a signature song for him and his baritone voice, as Yoongi and Jungkook assure you. You don’t know when this became a session of nostalgic karaoke, remembering a time you never experienced.

It’s how you pictured these nights to end. Nearly falling into a slumber before the day concludes.

Surrounded by a warmth incomparable to a bonfire; one you’ve been yearning for your entire life.

The end of the night begins with an argument.

Yoongi and Jimin are busy preparing themselves for bed, surprisingly cool-headed after the tumult this morning. They don’t struggle with choosing their comfort in the room, while you pull at Jungkook’s leg as it dangles off the upper bed.

“I’m going to come up,” you warn, trying to tickle the bottom of his foot before he crosses his legs, smirking down at you. “And I will be so annoying.”

“Is that news?” he wonders, and you open your mouth wide in surprise, hearing a chuckle from the couple behind you.

“Babe. I called shots on the upper bunk.”

“You did not.”

“It’s a lot more fun up there. And I thought you’d like sleeping down there.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows kiss, his expression questioning as he asks, “What made you think that?”

Well, now that you think of it, your presumptions were flawed. You assumed he wasn’t too picky, always a deep and peaceful sleeper at home. Defeated, you shrug your shoulders, telling him, “You had a mattress on the floor when you moved into the apartment.”

“That’s… an impeccable argument. I can’t even respond to it.”

The sarcasm drips out of his voice like a damaged tap, and once he shifts to the wall, pressing his back against it, you understand your half childlike, half playful pleading won’t work. So you only tilt your head, squinting his eyes at him, and then drop onto the bed below him.

“Don’t you fart, though,” you tell him, registering a goofy laugh with a fond smile. It’s okay. Maybe tomorrow. Either way, it’s worse than not having him beside you at all.

Yoongi switches off the light, ready to sleep as he falls into his bed with a groan. It was a long day and you walked miles, so you understand his fatigue. You expect for them to snore within a moment, but to your astonishment, Jimin starts a conversation not a minute later.

“We were lucky with the weather. I bet it’s raining back at home.”

Oh… have you finally grown into the type of adults who smalltalk about the sun and the clouds? The precipitation and humidity?

Jungkook answers, “Closer to the equator. The weather is best over here in the fall.”

Then, Yoongi, “Hopefully it’s as nice at the beach, too.”

“It better be,” Jimin chimes in, “I’ve been looking forward to our game for ages. I’ll play in the rain if need be.”

“Oh god, can you imagine?” you add, switching to your left side, hands under your temple. You’ve been thinking about the game just as much — chaos with a big fat portion of craze. “We wouldn’t even be able to get up if it rained.”

“We’d get nowhere,” Jungkook confirms, and you imagine him nodding towards the ceiling, arms under his head.

“That’s what. Doesn’t it sound fun? Wouldn’t matter anyway… the rain would at least kill my competitive side, you know?” Jimin jests, and you already send a prayer above. Not for rain, but for bright sunshine; you cannot miss the ruthless, cut-throat battle that will emerge.

And as if you predicted it, knowing very well who strives for a win and who doesn’t, Jungkook challenges, “Your competitive side means nothing if you’re gonna lose anyway.”

“Dude. Be careful. There’ll be nothing but regret if we end up being on the same team,” Jimin says.

“True, true,” you hear Jungkook respond, just as Yoongi lets out an amused snicker, aligning with your muttered, “Now, that, I wanna see.”

The banter and chatter proceeds for another couple minutes, up to the point where Yoongi needs to shush the quartet. Your laughter ebbs down after his reprimands, morphing into content and tired sighs.

And once the conversation has more or less died, you wonder, “Do we need to sleep? We could just stay awake and talk all night.”

But your suggestion proves redundant — because barely two minutes later, your breathing evens out, calm as you finally drift away. Not a single word anymore. Jungkook rolls over his bed, casting a brief look at you, not quite seeing your face in the dark, but understanding that you’ve fallen asleep.

You can’t stay silent for this long; and you’re not moving. Jungkook clicks his tongue, fond but a tease as he jokes, “I drove all day and still she falls asleep first.”

Yoongi and Jimin’s laughs are cautiously quiet, exhausted, soon giving way to deep breaths like yours until they’ve fallen asleep, too.

Weirdly, it takes some time until Jungkook can join your land of dreams. There’s a strange yearning in his chest that he’s well used to by now; it thoroughly sucks to not have you by his side. And… is this too much?

The affection poured into and onto you, is he doing too much? Feeling too much? Why are his fingers itching and his chest not warm enough, despite the pleasant weather?

You’ve really done a number on him.

The minutes prove long, soon stretching to what he perceives as hours. Jungkook doesn’t know how much time has passed and he refuses to fish out his phone again; the light of the device will only postpone sleep, and he cannot use that for the trip tomorrow.

“Man…” Jungkook quietly complains, letting his left arm swing between the bed rails.

Sleep isn’t an entity to grace him just yet anyway; because as around an hour passes, he hears a sound from below. Sheets shifting, a light groan from you. You sigh audibly, soon going silent, and when he thinks you’re off again, he hears a couple seconds later—

“Kook?”

No, he must be insane. It must be insane how his heart stirs at your tiny, wispy voice. You wash over him like… relief.

“Baby,” he calls out in a whisper, once more moving to look at you — or the darkness below. “You’re awake?”

“Can’t sleep properly. I really hate sleeping in other beds…”

“Right? Me too.” He reaches out for you, hoping you’ll notice the movement, and when your soft fingers get ahold of two of his digits, he breathes out in gratification. “And… I miss you here.”

You hum, rubbing your thumb over his palm, mumbling, “Isn’t it ridiculous? How we can’t go a night like this.”

“Hmm…”

“I miss you, too.”

Patience is a virtue he hasn’t learned yet when it comes to you.

He could wait hours for a hall in the museum to fill. For a visitor to comment on his pieces. He could sit in a room with his father, attempting a conversation; could attempt his whole life to sway your mother’s thoughts. All possible.

But you… distanced from your touch and your lips, not feeling your breath as he does every night is…

Pretty damn shit.

“Wait,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers out of your grip. He hears you mutter a small, “Huh?” as he moves, careful to not hurt himself in the dark.

For the smallest moments, he uses the light of his display to navigate through the limited space, never daring to turn on the flashlight to not wake the entire room. And once he’s touching the ground, agile as a cat, you understand what he’s trying to do.

Quietly, but inefficiently, you protest with just half a heart when he climbs into your bed, telling you to scoot. You say, “Uhm, I… Baby, I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

But you don’t seem to have much of a say in this matter — because you’re soon outnumbered by Jungkook and his obsession with you, shifting on the bed until you’re nearly pressed against the wall.

He wraps an arm around your waist before the tight space can suffocate you, soon leaning back a little — close to rolling off the mattress? — and pulling you close. The embrace catches your breath more than the cramped area, but it stops your complaints, too.

Winding a little more, you soon find yourself breathing against his chest, a heartbeat right underneath. Your arm reflexively sneaks around him, hugging him close before he laughs and teases, “You were saying?”

“I… I was saying you feel so warm.”

“Mmmh,” he hums, towing you in impossibly close, planting a kiss on your head before resting his cheek against it, “you are, too.”

“Do I feel better than your bed up there?”

“A lot better.” His palm flattens over your back; the scent of his shampoo, his fabric softener and him dizzies you. “Makes me feel a bit less sorry about keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry,” you sigh into his soft cotton shirt, feeling the lines of his pecs against your lips, “Am exhausted. I’ll fall asleep fast. Especially like this…”

“Oh… glad to be of service then.”

You nod, rubbing his shirt between your fingertips as he moves his hand up and down your lower back, just a little. He yawns against your hair; you know the telltale signs of a drifting mind.

The two of you have gotten used to this. It’s said that pressing something comforting against your chest, such as a pillow or stuffed toy, works wonders on an insomniac mind. You guess that’s what you are for each other.

Even when you’re not home. Even when the space barely suffices for one body.

Which, as you brood over his sudden presence next to you, reminds you—

“You wanted the upper bunk bed,” you tell him. Nothing more; he understands without you needing to elaborate.

He chuckles as quietly as possible to not wake your friends, his hand slipping under your shirt and feather lightly pinching your sides. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tickle you. You nearly yelp, muffling it against his clothes in time.

“Shut up,” he says, thumb running over where he nipped you. “Okay. Do you know why I wanted you to sleep down here?”

You smile. You’re not stupid. As your vision became blurry, your mind shutting just a while ago, the realisation dawned upon you as the seemingly last thought of the night.

“I think I do…” you admit. “I think I figured it out.”

Because.

Because you’ve fallen out of bed one too many times. Because of some days, when you weren’t nestled in his arms as you are now, not caged in solidly, overworked and stressed. Or when you let go of each other in the middle of the night.

And that’s when you rattled down the bed. Just once or twice!

You never got injured or anything, getting away with perhaps a tiny bruise. What was worse was the fond laughter you tolerated when you told him about it, or when he was there and realised. Worried sick, inspecting your body, but still shaking his head in amusement.

Chuckling as he pushed back your hair, but relieved when he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m not gonna risk your clumsy ass to fall off a bunk bed,” he says.

“There’s a raili—”

“Still. One never knows with you. In any case… you’re not getting hurt on vacation, okay?”

You could coo right here, right now. Whisper his name a million times in disbelief and absolute gratitude, melt into him, dampen his shirt. Jungkook is a thoughtful being, alright, but it’s insane that with you, he thinks half a dozen steps ahead.

Mind empty of a response as worthy as his, you settle on a joke, “Is that right? We’ll see about that once we play the game.”

You finish your sentence dramatically, and he answers with a breathy, “Yeah, yeah,” as he kisses your temple. Careful to keep his back off the ladder leading up to his bed, you keep him in your hug, soon detecting in a whisper, “I really mean so much to you.”

“Mhm… So very much.”

It’s too dark to see his expressions clearly; you see him move, see the white of his eyes a little. But even without it, you know he’s blended out the world when you look up at him. You know he’s staring back quietly.

You know what he’s feeling as the tip of his nose touches yours, the bangs of his growing hair grazing your forehead. And when the finger under your shirt draws circles on your skin, touching you so gently, you feel your heart in your throat, hear it in your ears.

Pumping, pumping hard when you see the silhouette’s mouth part before it arrives at yours. Kisses you tenderly. Doesn’t rush or force his tongue in, just lazily moving.

He cradles your face a moment later, raising your head some more, tilting it as much as possible. The kiss is more like a sequence of innocent pecks, but maybe that’s why the moment feels so intimate.

Because there’s no impatience. No other sentiment but adoration.

As he moves back again, he doesn’t talk right away. Takes a deep breath. Then—

He brushes your tresses aside, away from your temple as his thumb rubs against it gently. His lips hover close to yours, and much like the ever-blooming tiger lily on his golden skin conveys, he whispers, “Love me?”

Your heart.

This treacherous thing — cries and flutters, punctured and whole at once. You’re constantly breathless and speechless, so you wonder how he manages to say, “Please love me, too.”

Doesn’t he know how easy that is? Doesn’t he know who he truly is, what his stardust of a soul is made of? That he was born to be loved. That he’s not responsible for those who do not, rather a ray of serene moonlight who doesn’t need to show anyone that he’s just that.

“No need to beg,” you tell him, “you’ll never need to beg.”

Another beat of silence. He’s smiling, you know. Keeping his heart at bay as much as you are guarding yours. Does he think the same way about you as you do about him?

Of course. Probably. In some sense, you were in the same sinking boat, surrounded by an overwhelming, troubled ocean of doubt; waves of self-hatred drowning you. You know exactly what it’s like to get used to being unloved by everyone; and then to learn to be loved again.

You clear your throat, feeling his body relax; your head returns to his chest, and you say, “You know. It might be a bit uncomfortable, but we could make it work. It’s not that tight—”

“In theory. But we wouldn’t sleep well, right?” he ponders.

Wrong. You soon prove him wrong, unpredictable as you are half of the time when you’re not being familiar to him like the back of his hand.

Because your words soon become slurred, silent not much after, your breathing calm and warm against his chest. Your tiny fist still holds onto his shirt, the blanket alternatively slipping either off him or you.

So he waits until your grip around him loosens. Then, presses a light kiss to your lips, carefully moving away and out of your bed. Ignoring how you hold onto him until the last moment, scared you might awaken again; murmuring in your sleep as you tend to do.

He gently rubs your fist until you uncurl your fingers around his shirt; if he doesn’t do this, he’ll stay here all night. Instead, he furrows his eyebrows in chagrin and yearning; and when your hands move back under your head, he finally bids the first day goodbye and climbs back up.

Eventually descending into dreams of you, too.

DAY 2

The air is much colder up here than you thought.

You can’t recall ever having been on a mountain before; considering your country’s geography, a very ordinary thing that you never really got to experience. Your parents were fans of beaches all over the nation and the globe; didn’t enjoy heights, but depths.

You knew that early on.

Satisfied, however, you hide your mouth in your jacket. You’re glad Eun talked you into packing a thicker jacket and gloves, giving half a dozen logical arguments like the amazing lawyer that she could be. It was fun, packing suitcases together via video calls.

But the wind still hits your ears harshly, and you curse as you get off the cable railway, “Damn it.”

Jimin rubs your arms from behind, the ecstasy clear as day as he cheers, “Come on, no pauses now! We finally made it.”

That you did. No turning back. You’ve wanted this for so long. So you follow the others, walking beside Eun. Her legs are slightly longer than yours, and her steps wider. She proceeds a little faster, so you soon hook your arm with hers, urging yourself to catch up.

You’re relieved when you reach a small platform overlooking not much but the mountain lift and all the stops till the ground. Down below, you recognise the entrance you bought your tickets at.

Sometimes, along the descent of the mountain, you spot people hiking. They don’t take the lift; they trek up and down, with these cool hiking sticks of theirs.

Jungkook and Taehyung didn’t come with you. Or rather, they’ll arrive a bit after you. Namjoon rang up Jungkook just before you got ready to leave, asking for his apprentice’s time. Something about the gallery and the exhibit.

Yet, extremely sorry, Namjoon told him he could call back later, but Jungkook insisted on listening to what his mentor had to say, presuming it was urgent enough for an interruption in his vacation. And Taehyung stayed with him — partly to not leave him alone, and partly because he’s always dreamed of making an acquaintance with an art connoisseur like Namjoon.

Taehyung apparently has a big thing for art. The only reason Jungkook let him stay at all.

Because when you suggested the same, he rejected your idea without flinching once, prompting you to enjoy these valuable days instead of hanging around at the quiet hostel with him. It took some persuasion and a tender, “Angel, as much as I want you here, I won’t be able to talk to you anyway. I’ll be there in no time.”

So here you are now, content when cold but pleasant air caresses your face. You take in the high trees and the picturesque mountain range; somewhere in the far back, at the horizon, there’s another higher, snow-capped mountain.

And you look for a while, arms wrapped around your knees. Eun remains in a similar position, enjoying the moment; Yoongi and Jimin decide to bask in their joy by capturing the experience in snapped pictures.

Ten minutes later, your group decides to walk on, tramping up a short distance to a bridge Yoongi mentioned earlier. And you guess that’s where your serenity ends.

Because the bridge isn’t as short as you thought. Moves a little, mostly solid, but… holy shit, were you this high up all the time? They say don’t look down in moments like these, but you can’t help, and God, there’s an immeasurable distance between you and the ground and—

It’s not immeasurable. No, you’re an idiot. But you still can’t help it; stare down, gulp.

You reach to the railing with a careful hand. Why do they… how do they…

The others are doing it so easily. The other tourists. And Jimin; moving over it effortlessly, swaying a bit, but airing a sweet laugh. And then even Eun and Yoongi, initially struggling, make their way over, slower than Jimin but courageous nevertheless.

Okay… okay.

You push your phone extra deep into your bag, blinking before you take a deep breathe, repeating a mantra three or four times before you—

Scream.

The surprise of a new voice directly behind you is unwelcome, absolute horror in a moment like this. You flinch hard, reacting, barely hearing the “See?” over the wind before you slap the sudden hands off your shoulders. Your knees are shaking and you’re uncertain who the fingers belong to, but you’re still ready to fight.

The voice isn’t; the startled gasp reveals as much.

You turn, only to find your boyfriend’s eyes ripped open, lips parted. He puffs out a breath, equally frightened at your reaction before his expression turns apologetic. Baffled. Both at once as he exclaims, “Sorry! Sorry, baby.”

“Kook! Timing,” you blurt, scowling in distress, yet immediately holding onto his waist once you’ve grasped the reality enough.

“Angel…” he starts, looking into the hell below. “Are you scared of heights?”

No time to be sarcastic; you don’t have the breath to. So you admit, “A little.”

“I didn’t know,” he breathes, another apology in his words. He kisses your hair to soothe your worries; in some way, it works, even if not enough right now. “I’m sorry. Do you want to go or just stay here? We can stay here.”

His gaze is worried now, and he nods to reassure you, holding onto you. Behind him, Taehyung emerges, comprehending the situation and studying your countenances within the next three seconds until he asks, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook promises, “you can go ahead if you want.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung hums; doesn’t sound too sure about leaving the two of you here. “You need a hand? I can go ahead, Jungkook follows.”

Uhh…

“Is that a good idea?” you mumble.

“It could be.”

Could be? And if it isn’t?

Then again. You’re here for a reason. You’d be disappointed with yourself if you just stood here, ruining the chance not only for yourself, but Jungkook, too. You look at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, signalling that it’s up to you.

So you decide, “No, I’ll go. I came here for this, and I don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. Fears exist to be conquered!”

“Hear, hear!” Taehyung cheers, just as Jungkook praises, “See? That’s my girl!”

It helps you, their way to motivate. Cautiously, you place a hand in each of their palms, moving one step after another. They’re determined to take care of you, constantly checking if you’re okay. And it works at first. But.

The bridge seems endless, and the fright yearns to return to you bit by bit. Halfway through, your surroundings look scary enough to put you off balance; you hate that you’re not holding onto anything solid, basically standing freely.

If one falls, all of you do — which, in truth, is sheer impossible. The railing is high enough. But your brain isn’t quite computing properly right now. You let go of Taehyung’s hand, grabbing the railing, but still clutching Jungkook’s grip.

“Go ahead,” your shaky voice commands; and Taehyung nods this time, no other choice left. “It’s okay.”

“I’m right here if you need me,” he vows before walking on.

Jungkook puts an arm around your waist, a human safety rope. His voice is so insanely steady as he spurs you on, “Imagine it’s the amusement park, yeah? Wanna guess the remaining steps? I think it’s… uh… thirty more till the end.”

You exhale, then inhale. Look in front of you instead of down, blinking rapidly before you let out a trembling laugh and counter, “Are you kidding… Looks like a hundred.”

He chuckles with you as you suck in another breath, straightening your back, fixing your gaze on a big rock on the other side. Thinking about how such a vast number of people take these steps every day offers you some courage. Leaves you brave.

So this must be safe, right? Logically seen. You gulp, and then, with your full chest, estimate, “Forty-five! I say forty-five steps.”

And then, you count together. You’re amused when Jungkook curses as you reach twenty without the end anyhow approaching. And just when you take your thirtieth step, he shakes his head in defeat, telling you, “Should know better than to compete with a munchkin.”

You guffaw awkwardly, howling over the wind, “This is actually fun,” not noticing that he’s barely holding you anymore when you jump over to the mainland again.

“What a journey, huh?” Jungkook praises, patting your back. “I’m proud of you. It’ll only get easier from here.”

And it does. As you move on, you soon reach another platform, spiral stairs leading up to the top. It looks a little like the remainder of an old stone tower, half broken, not too high. The stairs were clearly broken; lighter, fresher patches indicate that they were evened out.

Okay, you can do this much, at least.

In fact, you’re the first to climb up, Jungkook treading on your heels, fingers still entwined with yours. And up there, your mouth drops — the view stuns you, frozen in place. The wind blows more fiercely here, but the moment is worth the strong, cold pull of the gust.

Jimin, having reached much before you, must have seen you, because you hear him say, “I know, right?”

Everyone is scattered up here, leaning against the stone wall protecting you from falling. Other tourists are eternalising the moments in pictures, through talking and kissing. Tae and Eun are pointing into the distance, Jimin and Yoongi going around, laughing.

Holy shit. The euphoria filling each one of you is inevitable. Poignant somehow.

You’re above the foggy clouds.

In the far-flung distance, you see the turquoise ocean, merely a day away from wading through its waves; levitating on the sparkling water; thinking back to now and how numerous the miles between are.

And the forests — they’re thick, vast. You wonder what animals inhabit them. Bears? Wolves? Birds you’ve never seen before? Deers and does that have the same eyes as him?

Even the mountain range looks like the sea from here. Is this odd to say? Like high waves, green and dark blue and white and cloudy. So many valleys and so many peaks. Some of them hidden behind the clouds like before.

The birds are flying so close to your heads. And the sun isn’t at its highest point anymore either. You see the horizon coloured in a yellow-ish, orange-ish hue, indicating the nearing sunset.

This was your goal anyway. You wanted to come here late because of these very colours, occupying yourselves with other sights in the morning and the early afternoon. Because you wanted to see what nature bestows upon you.

The mountain will soon be closed for tourists, and in less than an hour, you’ll be heading back down. But you don’t feel any hurry. Nothing matters.

“This…” you finally whisper as you catch yourself, “makes me wanna cry.”

You put your hands on the chest-high stone wall. Jungkook’s arms make themselves home around your body, pulling you in, pushing him close, telling you, “Then cry. Isn’t that what catharsis is about?”

“It’s just so pretty.”

“It is.”

“Like… is this really our world, Jungkook?” You shake your head against him, ruining your hair as his chin moves against your scalp. “The same we saw a few days ago. Those cars and the pressure and the rushing people. All the stress we endure. Or even, our cosy apartment.”

You fill your lungs with the crisp air, more thankful for it than ever. “There’s so much more.”

“There is, right? A lot more,” he confirms.

“Look at this,” you say, chin gesturing towards no particular spot ahead, “wherever there aren’t people to fuck things up, there’s peace like this.” You sniffle; whether due to the temperature or sentiments, you can’t say. “What if we became nomads?”

His laugh is as sudden as your statement, differing so vastly from the rest of the poetry you spat.

He concludes, “I think you’ll really like it back home.” You’re confused until you understand he means his hometown; to that, you nod enthusiastically. “There are so many wonders out there like this one. I want to show you the prettiest places and the prettiest things.”

“…Do you already have something in mind?”

“Of course I do,” he responds matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against your stomach. “I just won’t tell you yet.”

“Ha. I wouldn’t want you to.”

You swallow when he moves in, kissing your cheek, his breath pleasantly warm against your ear. You wait for a second, indulge in the feeling, permitting yourself to believe you’ve transcended this realm and entered another.

But as you hear everyone else’s voices again, laughing and joking and teasing, you remember you’re still very much here, on the same Earth you know. With your everyday thoughts and lives. Which reminds you…

You turn to the side to look at him, his face in immediate proximity to yours. You ask, “What did Namjoon want?”

“Oh, just needed to discuss a couple things. Exhibition.”

“Sounded super urgent, though.”

“I mean, it kinda was,” he answers, catching the strands of hair that the breeze blows into your face, tucking them back, “he needed a status update. We also spoke about the style the gallery collector likes and—”

“Wait. You’re still sticking to your own style, though, right?”

His heart thumps, violently enough to nearly drop out of his chest. When trailblazing artists, already enjoying a remarkable reputation, preach about the relevance of support, this is what they must mean.

Behind someone who does something significant for the world in any way, there’s somebody soothingly rubbing their backs in bad times. Embracing them in success. Pushing them forward, lending them bravery.

You.

You’re who they must be talking about. Unshakably by his side.

“Of course, angel,” he says, “I think having your signature style is always the most important aspect.”

“Good. You’re the coolest, Kook. Just so you know.” His smile is telling, rendering the humble click of his tongue that follows ineffective. He holds you tight, lips close to your temple as you say, “I still don’t know what you’re painting.”

“I will never show you my paintings until an exhibit rolls around. Mostly because you’re my muse. My girl.”

He must think that this doesn’t wreck you inside out. Puts you back together, pieces of puzzles reunited that you didn’t know were lost. You feel something new all the time; is this possible? Surely, there can’t be this many emotions anyway, right?

If you didn’t feel it with your own heart, you wouldn’t believe it…

“But…” you begin, “you’ll let me see those that I don’t inspire, right?”

“Of course. Always.”

Breathing comes easy to you up here. So you do it again. And again. Taking in the oxygen, so entirely different from the one in the city; and soon, you mutter, more to yourself than to anyone else, “This really is pretty.”

He doesn’t answer. There’s no answer to this. Whatever his mind is conjuring and his heart trying to convey doesn’t just have to do with the nature stretching in front of you. Of course it’s gorgeous. Of course, your world’s unique.

Of course, it’s home, and home feels warm, pleasant, familiar.

There’s no doubt that the sight and the moment evoke something rare in him. But he’s seen these things before; when he was younger, he was used to this. What he’s never been used to is people like you.

Those who match nature's fierce, distinctive personality. Those who grow carefully and selflessly; like the trees offering shelter to birds. Or the bees serving as pollinators to provide nourishment for so many creatures out there.

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away because the right response doesn’t come to him immediately. But when he does, he collects his breath, and then voices—

“I love you, angel.”

Your heart skips one or two or three beats. You look at him again.

“People climb mountains, watch the world from above, need to see forests to figure out how good life can be. And that it can be worth living,” he says, his voice velvety soft. “But I feel that way with you every day, you know? I do… I do love you so much.”

You want to say something. You want to pour your heart out. Keep staring at his gentle eyes, serving all confessions at once. But interruptions are expected; so you’re briefly displeased but not surprised when you’re pulled out of your daydream.

Taehyung is gathering the crew behind you, asking for a group picture. You’re soon caught in a short, harmless commotion until everyone has collected at a spot, and you stand in position, yet not before gracing Jungkook one more look.

Mouthing something.

And he sees. In this split moment, he sees and smiles.

If he could be honest… whatever, those mountains. Whatever, them and the adrenaline that comes with them. All the natural phenomena. You’re enough, too — a force of nature, too.

He doesn’t need any mountain peaks when you bring a new high every day.

The lift is crowded as you make your way down again. They stuffed it to the brim, much until a stranger urged staff to stop pushing people in. You’re moved to one end of the cabin while you watch Eun and Jungkook forced into the opposite corner.

Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung will step into the next, and you’ll wait at the exit.

Since it takes barely five minutes to reach the bottom, you don’t fight for a spot next to Jungkook and Eun. Instead, you look down into the depths, waiting until the vehicle finally finishes its dive.

The chatter in the booth is peaceful, but plenty enough for you to blend out any words the other two utter to each other. In that sense, you don’t hear it when Eun says, “You’re both glued to each other, huh?”

Jungkook’s wide, wondering eyes ogle into hers, surprised as he asks, “Is that… bad? Too much?”

“Well, definitely much,” Eun laughs, “but very sweet, too. By all means, don’t change.”

“Ah. Ahhh, that answers one of my questions at least.”

Eun looks at him in curiosity, though entertained and maybe even a little baffled that she’s ever been the object of his attention in any way. So she voices, “Oh? Which one’s that?”

“Just confirms that I have your blessings.”

Eun catches his admission as a popular line from a million movies before, immediately puffing out a laugh. She didn’t anticipate this, out of all things; blinking, somewhat flattered even.

“My blessings?” she repeats. Her smile, combined with the appearing crease between her eyebrows, dips her expression in something that reveals, “Are you joking?”

Which is presumably why Jungkook’s thought shrinks the very next moment, pupils shaking just a little as he mutters, “Well… yeah?”

“Okay. And what if I didn’t give them to you?”

She raises her chin as if in arrogance, but the immediate giggle reveals the playful joke. She shakes her head again, patting his bicep, smitten when his speechless self voices, “Uhm…”

“I’m just messing with you,” she clarifies, watching one corner of his lips rise. “But also, why is it needed, you know? Would you leave her if I didn’t bless you two? Or stop loving her?”

Jungkook’s surprised about the L-drop; of all people, Eun must have known from the very beginning that he loved you. There’s no bewilderment in her voice; she emits the word casually.

He blinks, albeit discarding all preceding hesitation immediately as he admits, “No.”

“Exactly,” Eun agrees, wiggling a finger with a wise, subtle nod on the side, “you don’t need my blessings. If you’re sure about her, you don’t need anyone’s. I’ll trust the process.”

That’s it.

No ominous warnings, no playful best-friend-threats. She trusts in his certainty as much as he does; and where would the two of you be, what would all of this be if he didn’t? No. Not a trace of doubt.

Not if every smile matching yours expresses a silent I adore you. Or if every exhale against your shoulder reveals a promising I want you.

Not if everything he’s still about to do breathes a whisper of a soft I’ve been thinking of you all this time.

“But,” Eun continues; Jungkook’s ears perk up, “if you need to know. I do adore you two together. I know I tease you and stuff, but I’ve never seen a cuter couple.”

“Ah. Even cuter than you and Tae?”

“Much. We’re not the sappy kind. Or well, he is, but… you’re straight up sugar. Makes me sick.”

Jungkook laughs, spying over his shoulder, seeing a glimpse of you as you look out of the window in wonder. “Well, she makes up most of that sweetness.”

“Maybe. God,” Eun exclaims as if agitated, and when he looks at her again, her teeth are gritted, eyes squinting hard before she opens them again. Adding, “Sometimes I wanna grab her face and squish her.”

“The most precious, right?”

“Isn’t she?”

Somebody to kill for. Somebody with a face that doesn’t fit tears. The world did you wrong, but you exist to be happy. You’re deserving of it; you could be the most enthusiastic soul if the universe allowed you.

No, fuck it. Fuck the universe.

He’s here, right? He can do it, too. Guard you from harm; keep your smile plastered there.

And as if reading his mind, Eun continues, “I’ve always hated seeing her sad. She deserves the world, and shit always hit the fan when she was so close to finding the joy I always wanted her to have. Does this sound dumb?”

No, it doesn’t. In fact, Eun’s very truth pricks his heart like a fine needle. Because in a sense, he was also once a reason for stripping you off that happiness; but he’s made up for it. He so deeply hopes he made up for it.

“It sounds just right,” he says.

“I don’t know if you already know, but you won’t meet anyone purer. Not saying this as her best friend… it’s true.” She shrugs a shoulder, as if to dismiss the corny statements; she truly isn’t a mawkish one. “So it’s a big deal to say I want you close to her.”

Her eyes shift away from him and straight to you; there’s a gap between all the people, allowing a glance at you. And when Jungkook follows Eun’s gaze, you seem to feel it somehow, his eyes like Cupid’s arrows in your back until you meet their attention.

Your lips promptly form the most saccharine smile, an unsure hand lifting; somebody next to you immerses themselves in the brief interaction, looking to and fro between Jungkook and you.

And Jungkook waves back, watching your chest rise and fall in satisfaction rooted in nothing but the untroubled moment. Right there, you hold not one but two hearts hidden. His bleeding organ thumps, but it’s as if he hears it from where you stand.

Slowly, stare dropping to his feet, he nods, love clumping up his throat, a barrier for the words wanting to escape. Instead, he basks in the things Eun said, repeating them over and over in his head until he merely susurrates—

“Thank you, Eun.”

“Here you are.”

Jungkook is soft-spoken, his voice mellow; a textbook definition of a lullaby. Which is possibly why you’re so surprised when it breaks the fall air so loudly, echoing through the empty space.

You flinch before you reflexively turn, watching his body tower on the other side. The lights of the swimming pool illuminate his face, and even from here, you recognise the bright, gorgeous, twinkling eyes immediately. They’re not hidden behind his bangs this time; his damp hair is pushed back.

Maybe you could focus on that unusual sight of his forehead if there wasn’t the entire rest of him. Hands in the pockets of the open bathrobe he’s sporting, mere boxers hiding his most important parts, but the rest of him naked. Tits out, abs sharp.

You flash him a smile from where you’re floating, pushing yourself off the edge and swimming towards him. You see his reflection in the water, blurry, moving, somewhat funny. As you near him, he drops to his knees, crouching for a second before dipping his legs into the pool. Sitting down, remaining there, waiting for you.

Getting ahold of his calf, you pull yourself in for the last few feet. He reaches out without hesitation as your shoulders collide with his legs underwater; gentle fingers tuck your soaked hair behind your ears.

“I was looking for you,” he says.

“Oh, I just got here a couple minutes ago. Making the best out of the remaining time.”

“Yeah. I just showered for a few minutes, too.” He pauses. Looks around the vacant pool save from the two of you, humming before he asks, “Hey, do you need a moment to yourself?”

Your eyes widen as you look up, his expression suddenly cautious, as if he’s intruding your personal space. Curiously, you merely voice, “What?”

“Just. I know there’s been a lot of interaction these days, so I get it if you need a break.” His finger moves to his temple, drawing circles in the air. “My battery almost ran out, too.”

Oh. Oh…

If there was a way to hide your flattered smile, you still wouldn’t. God, if he knew how rare of a person he is. How uniquely humane. If he knew that not everybody’s ready to offer space despite knowing that somebody requires it at times.

You know enough people who put the blame on themselves; deem themselves victims. If you can’t be there for them, it’s something they have done wrong. Not the fact that you need peace, a moment to yourself.

Jungkook knows. Jungkook understands.

Has seen you run out of energy and crave a quiet evening. But you immediately shake your head, touched, “Oh, no. I actually knew you’d find me here. Hoped for it.”

“Is that right?” he says, relieved, grazing your cheek as you put your chin onto his leg. Muscly, thick thighs, yet like a pillow.

You nod. Look up to him properly, a little distracted, very mesmerised. It’s outrageously insane, how he’s perched there like he’s allowed to. As if it doesn’t clearly state in your book that it’s illegal to look this way, that it should be retaliated somehow.

“It’s been a while since we were alone,” you tell him, “feels like we didn’t have many moments to ourselves.”

“Then, this is convenient, isn’t it? An empty pool in the evening. Very cliché.”

You laugh a little, tilting your head and ignoring the goosebumps that arise when he touches the sweet spot behind your ear. Hands exploring. You respond, “Others are probably too tired to be here. Or too cold. We’re the only crazy ones here.”

“It’s warm enough, though,” he argues, sniffling, as if to contradict his point — there’s something funny about it. “I bet it’s wet and grey back home.” A click of his tongue, watching you nod in agreement; after a beat of silence, he wonders, “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Exhilaration inundates your chest without a warning, as is common with this very conversation topic. You can barely fathom that you talked about this for weeks straight, and now you have only a few hours left until the awaited day finally breaks in.

Jungkook must be seeing the change in your pupils, because he smiles when you do, nodding with an open mouth as you cheer jubilantly, “A lot! It’ll be a long day, we’ll be exhausted, but… got a feeling it’ll be worth it all.”

“Yeah, but like. I think we can rest a lot after that, though,” he explains, flashing a wink to your astonishment. “My childhood bedroom is cosy.”

“I’d hope so. We won’t be leaving it.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in jest before he agrees, “Of course not. Duh. Except for the wedding.”

“Except for the wedding… sure,” you repeat, as if reluctantly.

As you put both your arms on top of his thighs, Jungkook uses the moment to let his stare dawdle; right there where yours lingered two minutes ago. His head moves slowly, taking in the wide, endless view behind you.

The sky above and the stars attached to it. The tiny mountains far away and the forests next to them. The world looks as wide as it truly is, stunningly bedazzling; infinite from where he sits here with your touch so close.

There’s a sense of disbelief in the fact that, despite the crazy vastness of the world, it’s you who found your way to him, inches away. If luck exists, this must be it, right?

But he doesn’t say any of it — don’t you already know? What if he lovebombs too much, frightens you away. So instead, his fingers shift to your face, much cooler to the touch than before, and he queries, “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head, however, stating, “Not yet. Or… maybe a little. You can help me warm up?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow in disbelief; something about the way he looks down at you with such power lets something in you loose that floods your entire body. You wouldn’t mind if he…

“Isn’t this another cliché?” he asks.

“How so?”

“You’ll make me jump in, huh? Or no, wait. You’re a brat,” he establishes as if remembering just now, rethinking his choice of words. “No… you’ll pull me in.”

“What? I won’t.”

“How do I know that, though?”

“I mean, technically, you don’t, and yes, I realise that doesn’t help,” you blabber, tone shifting when he shakes his head with a laugh, “but, you did just shower. I wouldn’t want you to waste more time showering afterwards.”

He looks sceptical to no end; squinting his eyes, biting his lower lip, furrowing his eyebrows — the whole package. Leaning in, he lets you know, “I don’t trust you this once, but…”

And that’s where his sentence ends. The words unspoken are replaced by another movement closing the gap between the two of you. He grabs your chin, moving your head up, bending his back enough to draw closer to your lips.

The phantom touch and his warm breath cause a strange, crackling sound somewhere in your brain — a bulb going out, your mind breaking. Shutting down. But your body lights up as he cradles your face, every single inch of your skin craving his all.

The knowledge about his affection and that he yearns for you like no other man on Earth blurs your reality, as if you don’t belong into a utopian world like this. As if you’re from another corner of the multiverse, incredibly lucky by accident.

Weird, weird how all of these thoughts trigger disbelief and thorough rapture in you, but how empty-headed you are at the same. Almost enough to fully lose yourself until—

The man leans back, intentionally teasing you, just a little but enough for you to fall out of your immersion. You chase his lips for a second, long enough to make him laugh. But as you find your composure, looking at the shit-eating grin, you land a decision.

“Unfair,” you say, pouting, predicting for him to coo, which occurs just a moment later.

You remain at your spot, not a lot of options either way as he still holds your face. Then wait. See him get a hold of himself before he mutters, “My pretty angel. Pouty little sweetheart of mine, hm?” twice, then thrice and then closes in again.

Thumbs skim the apples of your cheek, nose rubbing against yours, his own scrunched. He looks so happy with himself, but so charmed by you, too, squishing your face as if handling cuteness-aggression.

Calls you plenty of pet names as he kisses your nose, your cheek, your earlobe and then moves in for an actual kiss.

Only this time, no matter how much you yearn for his lips, rosy and wet and sweet and tender — you can’t let him beat you. So you prepare for the retaliation you considered before, and just as new goosebumps arise on your arms, wanting the kiss, you suppress the desire and—

“Fu—”

The curse falls out of him suddenly, just a second after he closes his eyes and you use the moment of weakness to put your hands at the back of his neck. Pulling him in without a warning, watching him lose balance and splash into the pool.

He struggles a little underwater before he breaks the surface; hands reach for you with an intent to revenge, but you dodge him. He gasps, shaking his head, going through the trouble of wiping the water off his eyes before opening them.

You swim away a little, carefully, just to be sure; watching him cough a bit before he laughs. He can’t help but scoff, more curses falling out of him, but never towards you. Only a reprimanding, “Angel, you’re— you brat." Another cough. "You’re too much.”

And as his eyes finally land on you, he immediately charges for you, jaw clenched, teeth gritted, but pure amusement gracing his features. You try to get away, but he’s faster. Moves in the water as he strips himself off the bathrobe.

The image makes you choke.

How ethereal yet sinful of a moment. Tempting as he pulls it off his strong shoulders, revealing the bulging bicep, throwing the bathrobe to the side with an absolute indescribable, fiery aura.

Teeth pull at his lower lip before they instantly release it. Then the tongue, running over glistening lips, eyes hooded, the bathrobe sitting where he did without him even regarding it. Like a villain who sets a house on fire and then walks away without looking, badass to the core.

Fuck, he’s broad. And fuck, he’s coming right for you.

You try to flee, hysterically laughing, probably too loud; but he’s a fast swimmer, arms soon around your waist, wrapping around you, tugging you in. He whispers into your ear, “Talking about clichés, baby, huh?”

As he holds you there, you swallow some water, spitting it out right away before you answer, “Well… there’s a reason why they’re clichés.”

“Not wanting to waste my time showering, my ass.”

“You’re saying it sounds like a bad idea?” you whisper, breathless as he kisses your shoulder, his soft voice muttering a little, “What?” before you clarify, “Showering with me?”

“Nah. Stop planting this thought in my head,” he says, lips continuing at your neck, kissing it gently first before he morphs the touch into a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

You try to stay afloat, but god, you’ll drown if he keeps that up. But then he adds, much to your already existing misery, “Stop or I swear, we won’t even make it to the damn shower. Understood?”

“Beast—”

“You say as if you don’t know me already. Don’t you know?” he asks, pausing, kiss moving to your jaw. “That I get like this with you?”

“I… I do, so well. Not even this is surprising to me.”

You press yourself into him harder, feeling the bulge hardening below, right against your thigh. Your hand drops from his shoulder to his slim waist, further down until it gives his hard-on the slightest of touches. He groans; gives you a head tilt as a warning.

Then kisses your cheek. The corner of your lips; tickles you, pinches your waist. You engulf him a bit more, trying not to pull the two of you underwater, swimming and floating. It’s hard, though, and harder even when he tickles you again.

He must understand, because as you push him away, swimming away a couple feet, he doesn’t tow you back in. Lets you go as your vision blurs, the movements of your arms hectic enough to push more water into your eyes.

You dip below the surface for a second, regaining control, and when you’re up again, you hear his voice farther away, urging, “Come on.”

And once you see him again clearly, he’s already wading to the edge where you stood when he scared you. Right where the view to the town is the best, the pool and roof separated from the depths by a high glass wall.

You follow slowly, stroking for a moment — but it doesn’t take you long to pause again halfway through. Gliding, you watch his arms coming up and settling on the edge, muscular and mountainous like the range far away. Hair wet, water drops drip onto his already doused back.

And in front of him, a lake you couldn’t see from the other side of the pool.

Then, the mountains, like the one you went on. A village and fields and up above, a painting of stars. Millions and millions of them. Sparkling, alive, dead, moving, closer, farther… burning and bright. Reflecting in the lake, along with the moon.

His head moves to the side, probably looking for you; but you don’t move yet, just admiring the side profile for a little longer. Gorgeous, lips formed as if drawn, a clean-cut, razor sharp jaw. Golden back, broad.

As he peeks over his shoulder again, doe eyes searching for you, you finally swim towards him the moment he pleads, “Come, baby.”

And you do. Put your hands on his shoulders again, kissing his back, his neck, his shoulder blade before you settle right next to him. Imitating his position.

He says, “One could almost forget that we’re leaving in two hours. Ahh, I want to stay here.”

Right. Your group decided to check out in the late evening tonight — an exception at this hostel — to make the most of the day on the mountain and at dinner. But in a while, you’ll set out for your new destination. The beach calls for you.

You’ll check in late at night over there, and then remain at the new hotel — no hostel this time — until the day after tomorrow.

“Yeah. Just a bit more,” you say, sighing before you let him know, “By the way… I do feel a lot warmer now.”

“Good,” he says, although you don’t miss the beguiled smile he flashes as he looks away, “anything for you to not get sick.” He nudges your elbow with his. “Not before the big day.”

No, not the big day. If anything, you’re even more overjoyed over it than tomorrow. And nervous — oh, so nervous. You don’t think you’ll feel any different until the day rolls around.

What will happen at the wedding? What’s the atmosphere like in a smaller gathering? What does the magic of such a place elicit? It must be so different from any event in the city.

Could it make you fall in love with him with further desperate urgency? Seeing him standing there, admiring you in your dress, thoughts whirling as the couple of the night promises each other eternity. Does the romantic serenity of a wedding make hearts of those in love burst more?

No. You don’t think it’ll make you fall for him harder — because you don’t need a wedding for that.

A moment like this suffices.

Yet. As you stare ahead, fixing your eyes on the clouds, you remember something. Curious as you think back to the first day and ask, “Hey. What did Jimin mean when he said I should be excited for the wedding? What does he know?”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head at your friend’s slip-up. He smirks, and then says, “Well, you’ll see at the wedding, right?”

“…Jungkook,” you challenge, and he looks at you so innocently, hiding whatever secret he shares with Jimin. But you don’t fall for it, ideas already brewing in your mind; one blurted as you ask, “Did you get me something?”

But he’s unfazed — a good actor. “Wait up,” he says, “if you’ve got any theories, keep them to yourself, though! You’re too smart for me.”

“C’mon, as if.” You wait. Wait a bit more, pupils shaking, just slightly distracted when he frees your cheek off your hair again, giving you a chaste peck. “Wait. Oh.”

He chuckles, a little lost in you as he copies, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook… are you proposing?”

And that’s when he breaks into a laugh. A loud one, Jungkook-esque, sweet and genuine, with his eyes nearly closed, mouth open wide. So, so enchanting as he says, “I did not expect that. But sure, that’s what it is.”

“Well, that cancels it out.”

“Oh, baby…” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head to look at him, kisses you again, just for a fleeting second. “You’re so cute. So, so cute. I love your cute ass so much.”

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies.

They never cease. You don’t think you’ll ever get over this word. You don’t think there’s a way to get used to Jeon Jungkook confessing his love — his love — for you.

Ugh, he drives you mad. Into absolute insanity.

Sucks you out of breath, your heart palpitations reasoned in him. Your body craves him; not cold anymore at all. Tingling and wanting.

Starved for him, you look into his dark eyes, intrigued by the wet bangs, and with all the patience you can muster, you finally whisper, “Let’s go and hurry to that damn hotel. Hm?”

DAY 3

You love packing your bags, but you hate reorganising them. Like, stuffing back dirty clothes because there’s nowhere else for them to go, changing your initial order.

You won’t empty your suitcase for that one remaining day anymore; you’ll only be here for another night anyway.

But you want to separate the worn stuff from the clean one. Thankfully, your suitcase is spacious enough; after all, there’s no chance in hell you’re having your soon-to-be-messy swimsuit reside right next to your resplendent dress.

Yawning as you rummage through your things, you shoot a fleeting glance at the ticking clock at the wall. It’s only 8 o’clock in the morning. Breakfast has already started, but you and the others longed to sleep in, agreeing on a 9 AM meal.

But for some reason, the two of you already awoke about half an hour ago; nevermind that today’s schedule doesn’t begin before noon.

For some time, you merely lay on your sides of the bed, enjoying each other’s company, brief kisses here, modest touches there — until you decided to make yourselves useful. Still tired, yet unable to fall back into sleep, being productive was all you could do.

Albeit, you’re distracted. Your mind keeps drifting, your heart still pounding thinking about the shower last night, taken right as you checked in and found your room. Not as tired from the busy day and the two-hours-drive to the hotel anymore when he touched you.

You still feel the ghost touch of his palm around your neck; glistening lips exploring your cheek and your jaw.

And… there are bruises on your leg somewhere, reminiscent of when he dragged you into bed, keeping your thighs apart with a grip passionately aggressive. Loving yet brutal. Uttering admissions that still coat your flesh with goosebumps.

Shit, are you grateful for the proper room. All to yourselves at last.

You cover your naked thigh. The oversized shirt barely hides his effect on you, but he seems rather distracted anyway. Of course he is — whenever he spies the lavender dress, like now, he becomes one hell of a goner.

He fishes it out by ruining some of your tidiness, the folded top and two shorts falling out as he pulls the dress from underneath them. You complain, “Hey!”

But he’s still examining the gown, shaking his head once again as he did the last few days whenever he caught a glimpse of it. You still remember his reaction when you first brought it home, presenting it to him but not yet putting it on.

You assured him you looked hot in it beyond hell, but that he’d have to wait to actually see you wrapped in it.

His eyes were still wide, alright. Mouth drooling. And you understand — when you first laid eyes on it, you knew it was made to be yours: soft, pastel pink hue. Dreamy and ethereal. Shit, you can’t wait to wear it.

Apparently, he can’t either.

Because he declares, “You’re gonna be so fucking pretty in this.”

“You told me.”

“And I’ll keep doing so. My god, I’ll need to keep an eye on you all night!”

You laugh. “Ah? Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder, explaining matter-of-factly, “Some of my friends there are still single. Gotta shield you from their shit. I mean, they loyally respect me, but then again… it’s you.”

“Oh, oh,” you voice, tutting, “and the girls? Are some of them single, too?”

“Well, I guess so, but—”

“Nothing but. I’ve seen you in a suit before, mister. What if some of them are girls from your high school? What if they had a crush on you? Fuck it, they all probably did,” you ramble, and he listens, lips twitching; he forces the laugh back. “No, you’re sticking by my side that night, Jeon.”

You raise a finger, wiggling it like a warning, blabbing the most ridiculous, “No running away with other chicks.”

“As if, you idiot,” he jests, “even if I got shitfaced as heck and you carried me home and I didn’t realise it was you? And you pretended to be somebody else — I’d still tell you that I need to go fetch my girlfriend.”

You cover your mouth as laughter fills the air; you’re sure your eyes are sparkling at the fantasy, and your voice changes, euphoric to an unknown extent as you say, “Oh my god. I so want to witness that one day. I’m gonna try to get there.”

“I believe you. What else will you be wearing? This? Wait,” he asks, picking out a silk and lace lingerie from the side; baby pink. But you snatch it out of his hands as he adds, “Is this part of your attire?”

“Well, now you ruined a perfect surprise.”

“What! I don’t think I did, though? Wait for my reaction. It won’t be any less than you expect.”

You smack your lips in faux disappointment, but in truth, you get it very well. Seeing him always feels new to you, too.

You brush your hand across the fluffy carpet as he eyes the dress once more, waiting until he’s folded it neatly again, putting it into your suitcase. Then, he leans against the bed, observing as you get back to work.

Your lips open, pouting a bit. You give the sweetest, most genuine reactions; how you form an Oh with your mouth when you like something you brought. Or how disgusted you look when you’re reminded of your two-days-old clothes again.

You mutter, “Gonna have to ask your mom if she’s okay with me using your washing machine.”

“She will be, for sure.”

“I’ll even hang them to dry myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm! Shit, Jungkook. I’m so excited!” you exclaim, fingers moving fast over your stuff, and he keeps watching. “I wanna tattle about you with your mom! And I can’t wait to meet Ria, either. She sounds so cool and—” You peer up at him, and when you catch him smiling, you wonder, “What?”

“Nothing, just…”

He shrugs another shoulder, already moving to close your suitcase. You watch with an innocent curiosity in your eyes, hands on your knees as he pushes it away. He reaches for your wrists to pull you closer until you’re between his legs, your own crossed, obliging wordlessly.

Then, he speaks again, “Can you kiss me? Really wanna kiss you.”

He always wants to kiss you. And staring at these rosy, pretty lips of his, arched so prettily, you don’t think you fare any better.

So you’re walking on air when his hands settle on your waist to tickle you, forcing you to relocate them down to your hips. You ask, “Do you ever get enough?”

“Hmm… Do I look like I do?"

“I mean. Do you really just want to kiss me, baby?” you inquire, but he’s already onto pecking your lips, pulling at them. You place your arms around his neck. “Your eyes look just like they did yesterday.”

“Ah, really?” A featherlight kiss on your neck. “So I won’t have my wish granted?”

“You… You’re stupid,” is all you say before you prove him wrong — diving in, locking your lips, moving them slowly against his, in unison.

You tilt your head immediately. Kiss him deeper, seeking his hair. His hands wander to your back, and you arch it when he hauls you closer. Your tongues come into motion at the very same time, a touch intense enough for him to breathe a sigh that you feel, that you hear.

And before you know it, you’re moving further; straddling him. He pushes your shirt up, only to the small of your back; the other hand moves down to your ass, nothing on you but your underwear. And considering it’s a string, not even that matters.

He has free reign to your rear, squeezing and slapping lightly. At which you lean back, breathless, giggling a little as you watch him move back in — trying to catch another kiss, eyes drooping and lips parted.

But when he realises you’re pausing, not granting him what he needs, he looks up into your eyes. You say, “Thought so. That’s,” you touch his hand over your ass, “what your eyes said. Even after you wrecked me just last night, huh?”

“Sorry,” he mutters with a grin — but his expression soon changes. Back once more against the bed, he promises, “I… if you don’t want to, we don’t have to though. I’m okay with just organising our stuff or chilling.”

Oh, the way he touches your heart…

You blink, affection in your pupils reflecting in his. You coo, and then call, “Oh, baby…”

“No, seriously. Whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

“I’m… I’m comfortable with you, you know? If I ever feel like not doing something or disagreeing with you… I’ll be honest with you.”

He silences for a moment. Keeps gaping at you. Then, “Do you feel like you can?”

But no matter how deep his insecurities are, your answer is immediate, “Always.” Swift pause. “Kook, I— I know you still fear I could distance myself from you. I see it, but… I won’t. As long as you’re willing to stay, I will, too.”

“I will. I promise. And I’ll never ever do anything to hurt you again. Not on purpose… okay?”

Hmm… you wish these moments were rare. It does happen ever so often that he seeks reassurance and vows; your companionship, regardless of what lies in your pasts. To know you’re here despite all the despites.

But if you need to, you’ll keep dispeling his fears all your life.

So you say, “I know. I know.” Brushing through his hair. “And I want this.”

“It won’t hurt? We just did last night—”

“If it does, we can stop. I always want you. Besides…” You circle over his lap, your hips a tease. You feel the bulge stir. “I can’t blueball you.”

Jungkook smirks in the way only he’s able to, clutching your butt again, and you catch your lower lip with your teeth. He states, “Brat, acting like it’d be the first time.”

“You’re just… so hard already. Can’t do this to you. Or me. Not today.”

“Babe… you being so sweet makes it worse. And this isn’t even its final state, you know?”

“Of course I know.”

Oh, of course you do. Whenever you think it can’t get crazier, he negates your beliefs. Well equipped as he is, your man, the thought suddenly makes you want to unwrap him again, like a gift crafted just for you.

He’s in a black tank top; tattoos reach up to his shoulder, muscles flexing as he holds you. You touch them, sneaking further to his wrist, and then take the plunge and lead his forefinger into your mouth. Then, you suck.

Upon which his eyes immediately shut. He draws a deep, shaky breath, barely exhaling much of it when you twirl your tongue around the tip of his finger. Absent-minded yet fully aware, he shakes his head, taking a moment to compute before he pulls his digit out again.

His cock twitches beneath you, much as a last warning.

And a second later, out of the blue, there’s a hand on the nape of your neck while the other shifts to your buttbone, pushing you to the ground with his body in tow. You fall flat on your back, his face right above you. Lips crash against yours again, strong hands pinning your arms down.

“You’re so brave,” he deduces, “like you forgot yesterday.”

“I could never. Maybe… maybe I’m just trying to repeat it.”

“Oh… smart, smart. If that’s your wish.”

Cocky, how he tilts his head and winks. How he pushes your thong aside without a warning, already damp, freeing your pussy before his touch collides with it. Fondling with it; making you release a pleased sigh. Gaze still set on you firmly, fingers running up and down. To the clit.

You’re already out of your good mind; but you attempt a fair approach; a mutual effort in which you try your best to push his shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath… you know because he threw them on last night after the chaos that ensued, wanting to rush to you. To sleep in peace.

And he’s well aware of it, because as it slides down to his knees, he dares a step further. Fists his cock and replaces his fingers when he drags the tip up and down your heat. You sigh again before it contorts into a moan, gripping him, pleading, “Kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I wanna see you wind.”

“Why…? You’re so mean—”

“Just now. Come on. Look at me.”

You do. You’re met with a hungry beast who’s yearning for you, simultaneously so soft — easing you into this, not dipping his fingers in just yet. Discovering how you feel; how soaked you get; how far he can already proceed.

He might be craving you, but he’s not stupid; he’s cautious. Gauging your reaction.

This man… this man…

“Want me to push it in?” Jungkook then questions, making your eyes rip open; you didn’t expect the inquiry this soon, but you’re not opposed to it at all.

You nod, eyebrows furrowed. Your voice is feeble when you agree, “Please.”

“Please, yeah?” he repeats, just the head prodding your entrance — but then, he chuckles. “Baby. Take care of yourself when I can’t. I can’t fucking think, you know? But even I know you’re not ready yet.”

“I…”

“Just a bit more, okay?” He slaps your pussy; you wince. “Wanna get up and undress?”

“No,” you instantly blurt, “want you like this. Right now. I don’t care about the shirt.”

“Right… so that’s how it is.”

He leaves the two of you just the way you are, except kicking off the bothersome shorts. Pushes your shirt up to your tits, too, stopping right underneath the mounds, still covering them. He leaves it there, dizzy about how your nipples perk against the white shirt, just above the Kakashi Hatake print.

Huh.

“Is this my shirt, by the way? You stole it, didn’t you?” he gathers.

You pretend, playing the innocent lamb, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t believe you. Stealing my clothes… and my perfumes,” he recollects, his voice going up and down. He’s referring to the time you used his cologne just to keep his scent close; once. He was very amused by it. “What’s next? My heart?”

Only that you already exchanged both of yours. He knows, because he can’t really feel his own heart beat, but yours. After all, your chest houses his thumps, not his.

But he still clicks his tongue; kisses down your body, caressing your sides, and then shoves your panties aside. He spits on your pussy so indecently, in a manner so filthy that it affects your entire body.

The sharp tip of his tongue is the first to taste you. The first to intrude. Lightly and softly, he attempts a touch, anticipating a reaction that he barely needs to wait longer for than a nano-second. Because your body blooms immediately, your pussy constricting.

There’s never a single reason for him to react with surprise; if anybody in this world understands your body as well as you, it’s him. He knows you to the tiniest detail; so why the astonished, “Oh? Oh, oh…”

Then again, maybe that’s all that’s necessary to set the mood further; he doesn’t elaborate on it, nor does he ask any questions. Instead, he French kisses your cunt with the techniques he’s mastered to the core. With each time you spend with him like this, he gets better.

Because he knows when to draw back, when to return. When to kiss you again, when to pull at the nether lips. Or when to nibble just lightly, when to use his tongue. It’s obvious in the twitches of your legs, and how he needs to keep them in place each time — hence, the bruises.

Your head lifts when he angles your right leg on the side, enabling better access to where he wants to drown. And when he comes back, he seems starved; maybe he needs that promised breakfast soon to come. Or maybe not; maybe he’ll feast on you enough.

Because he’s thorough; does enough work on you to divulge, “Maybe I was wrong and you are ready after all.”

“…M-maybe.”

“Wish we’d brought the sex toys. Man, I want to…” He touches your clit, painting patterns, a steady and diligent artist’s hand; and you can’t help but imagine it’s the vibrator he often handles. “Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Don’t… do this to me.”

A smug chuckle. “Sorry, bae.”

Ever since he gave you the damn toys months ago, he’s teased you about them constantly. And ever since you started inhabiting the same walls as him, he’s prompted orgasm after orgasm. God, the last few weeks alone, he’d revel in your whines.

Overstimulating, keeping you awake on weekends, battering your cunt and your nub. Nerves on fire. Tears of pleasure and sobs of exhilaration.

“Jungkook…” you start. He hums, but your brain blanks; you think about whatever you were going to say until you remember and jabber, “We’d never get t-to breakfast then.”

“So? I’d still be having mine.”

Thought so.

“But…” you argue, no clue why at all. “They’d be waiting.”

“I think they’re just as bad as we are. C’mon.”

You laugh before you mewl; insane when he buries himself in your sex, tongue in a whirl, plump lips operating so agonisingly skilled. He heaves your legs onto his shoulders; everything feels wet and warm and dirty.

Nerves burning again; your entire neural system is alight like a torch, buzzing like electricity.

And you want to close your legs but you can’t.

The motion only covers his ears, much to his disdain as he says, “Stop… I can’t hear you like this,” before dragging his tongue down again. Pushing your body up, he grips your ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he licks over the string just for a moment. Then suggests, “What if we added something to our collection one day? Hmm?”

His thumb toys right over your clenching hole; you grasp for a breath, airheaded as you admit, “I… don’t know yet.”

“Fine. There’s time.”

There is, but you want it to pass faster. Want him over you, around you. And maybe he can read your thoughts after all, because a second later, he’s uprighting himself; once again slapping his dick against your drenched mess. Hiding it between your folds as he rubs it up and down.

Then moves it side to side rapidly, helping himself, pumping until he’s grown impossibly solid. On his knees, he shifts on the mattress until he’s kneeling right over your face, and you raise your head, mouth ready and open without a single command necessary.

He’s chuffed about your keenness; breathes out a laugh as he drags his cock between your lips and onto your tongue. You’re rigorous, his good girl, sucking right away.

Fuck, he savours the moment much like you are; watching the saliva drip down your cheek obscenely. It covers his dick, much of it enveloped by your mouth; the picture of you barely being able to take half of him in this position yet trying sends him into pure madness.

And when your tongue teases his slit and the head, he thinks he’s dying and being reborn.

“I’m dying and being reborn, babe. What the fuck,” he repeats, immediately regretting it when he realises he spoke it out loud; because you’re right beneath him, eyes foggy but the sudden giggle entirely contrary.

“Glad to hear.”

Jungkook uses the separation from your lips to back away already; any longer and he’ll have to help you rinse out your eyes. He leans down again, kissing you, hips aligning with yours as he prepares for the next step.

He’s gentle as he places your hands on his shoulders, and you already understand why. Already make yourself comfortable, getting into position as if for war, already realising that you need him to kiss you or your scream will shatter the building—

“Careful now,” he still warns, right before he reads your wish off your eyes and dives back in for more making out. You nod; you know. Your neighbours don’t need to—

Fuck.

Fuck, how big he feels when he digs in, not even fully inside yet.

Isn’t it just a bit more than the head so far? You bite your lip when you hear yourself whine, suppressing it, eyes watery. Your mouth transforms into a thin line, but Jungkook opens it with his finger; telling you, “I don’t care who hears.”

Okay. Okay. Then… you’ll stop holding back, right? You moan and call his name, hearing in his tender sounds and overjoyed, endlessly breathy and quiet laugh that he’s loving it. He asks, “Can I go farther in?”

“Thought you’d never ask…” Yet, it doesn’t happen. He refuses for some reason; which is why you work towards him instead, your hips upthrusting. Pushing at his ass, knowing how much he’s enjoying your helplessness. You say, “You are mean.”

“Mhm… especially to you, right?”

“Especially to me,” you laugh. “You say you love me and then edge me? Prove it, won’t you?”

“Ohhhh no.” He drags out the syllable, a sudden change in his tone, as if you’ve purposely teased him to a challenge. A you did not just say that kind of vibe. “You will not doubt that I love you. Fuck no.”

He buries his face in your clothed tits, kisses the spot between them; one hand envelops your left side before he lets go and gets serious. Kicks his shorts away and then— bottoms out. His balls clash against your ass, your eyes rolling back. His words ring in your ears.

And then, he’s already dragging himself out before plunging back in. Hard. Remains like this. Then out again; all the way in again, harder. Repeating it with a hand on your neck; but the moment, much to your irritation, doesn’t prolong at all.

Jungkook must have been quick to make a decision to torment you today when you first kissed him ten minutes ago. Because he fully draws back, leaving you empty, a hand on the back of your head as he mutters his thoughts to you, “Am craving this mouth… Get up.”

You, like his personal doll with a sudden lack of feminism in your body, get on your knees without hesitation. Your hands remain between your legs, as if waiting for him to put a leash on you; rubbing yourself against the soft carpet until he stops your antics and grips your cheeks.

He urges you to open up, pressing in, and when you do, he doesn’t wait to shove his cock in again. This time, he helps you out: goes back and forth, fucking your wet tongue, and then moving his length until the tip prods your inner cheek. He angles it like a fishing hook, bringing it out of your mouth and then back in again.

And you’re careful to suck diligently. You taste yourself, fighting for breaths. Look up at him, take him like your last meal on Earth; touch his balls as he relishes in your gaze. When your hand encases his dick, that’s when he stops moving, glancing up to the ceiling as if praying.

You slow down; wait as he catches his breath, and then ask, “What do you want me to do?”

You’re not always this forlorn. Sometimes you take matters into your own hands, no questions or permission necessary. You often knock him back onto the mattress, straddling him, riding him into the sunset.

But you want to submit today; that’s the mood you perceived. That’s what his eyes reveal and what your body itches for. Something he wants, too: to destroy you, to fuck you senseless.

And he notices the shift. “My god, would you look at that,” he drags, hardly believing that you’re looking at him like this. “Bed. Lean over it.”

You listen; of course you do. Your knees press into the carpet, upper body flat on the bed. Ass out, arms on the mattress.

He touches you gently; first your back, then your hair, and then your arms. Finds the right position, and then rams himself into you. You barely expect it — the intrusion is sudden, happens in one fell swoop.

His legs cage in yours, and he soon pushes yours together, dying for further friction and for you to feel it more intensely. Your eyes flutter shut, and your previously lifted head falls, your cheek against the sheets.

You move with them as he thrusts into you, and you hold onto the fabric to remain in place. Perhaps he sees your efforts, because he’s soon determined to help — or to rile you up further, you can’t say. He catches your arm, just one, pinning it to your back.

A heavy hand falls onto the soft flesh of your ass once. And then, he raises your upper body until it’s glued to his chest. An arm wraps around your tits, two fingers pinching your nipple as he drills into you from behind.

As you yelp and heave breaths, you hear him say, “You wanna know, huh?”

“I…”

You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but you allow him to air his rage. He leans in, kisses your neck, wants to know, “What’s that like? You okay, baby?”

“I’m okay… I’m so okay—”

“And so pretty like this. You’re always… so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I want to see you.”

“How did I…”

“Kook—”

“I know. I know you want to,” he says, but he takes another minute to fuck you hard, fast, revved up, and you don’t complain. Not even when two of his fingers slap your cunt, multiple times, rapidly until he repeats, “I know. Would you turn around for me? Sit here?”

How couldn’t you if he asks so nicely, right?

Your legs are shaky and trembling as you take a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he commanded. It’s high enough for him to fuck you standing here; but he doesn’t go in right away as you thought. Instead, he kneels in front of you, forehead to forehead, sentimental all of a sudden.

Did you wanting to actually see him change something? Did it remind him once again that you’re not just what you used to be? A way of passing time, a company to quench each other’s thirst?

Then again, you know Jungkook. He never forgets. Never forgets what you are to him.

Repeats each time just as he is now, “How did I end up with you?” Every time. Tells you every time that he cannot fathom his luck, that you’re more than he’ll ever deserve. He adds, “You want me to prove it to you?”

Oh…

That’s what he—

This time, the kiss is short-lived, albeit urgent. His hand cradles your face when he moves up and slides back home. He fucks you softer first, not as beastly as before. But you guess the distance is as irksome to him as to you, because he soon bends down.

Puts his hands on your ass and shifts your body on the mattress until you’re on your back, laying in front of him. Just the same position as before on the ground, but cosier; it’s easier to hover above you now, scanning your face like you’re the only star in the vast, expanding universe.

The only source of light in this darkened room.

“Hey,” he calls, even though you’re already looking at him.

He grazes your temple, tender as a flower petal. His eyes are a melting, dark brown, almost black; you think you see yourself in the reflection, even though it’s impossible in a setting like this — maybe that’s what he means when he says you reside in him.

Your existence in his chest, your eyes in his.

“I love you,” he then proclaims, “and I’ll show you all the fucking time if you need me to.”

“I… I want you to…”

“Good. Good, baby. You know I’ll do anything, right? Not just this and not just now. I’ll do anything for you.”

You half-smile as he says it, as much as possible between your moans; you don’t know what else to do, because nothing else suffices. Not an I would, too and not an I know.

So you say nothing; only raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes, showcasing every shred of affection you harbour. You keep looking at him until the thrusts force your eyes shut again. And this time, you don’t need long to fall into a series of gasps and outright craze.

You understand you’re close when he pleads, “Can you touch yourself? Please?”

And it helps — considering that you’re already riled up like not once in the past days, the next minutes pass fast, and the end is immediate. The familiar stars soon block your vision, your body quivering; you barely realise what happens and when it happens.

Nothing, but bliss bliss bliss…

Until you very clearly feel the liquid underneath your ass, the sheets soaked, all of it wet. You hear Jungkook laugh, absolutely satisfied. Your eyes rip open and you ask, “What happened?”

But the question is redundant — because as your mind clears, you gather what it could be.

You ruined the sheets. You’ll have to come up with a good ass excuse and ask the receptionist for a new blanket for your room. Fuck. A hell of a guest you are.

“You squirted all over my dick,” Jungkook still clarifies.

“I’m sorry…”

“What? No. It looks… it feels so…”

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; it seems that the thought alone hardens his cock and balls impossibly. Enough for him to follow your example, letting go. He shakes his head, silences, and then moves in to kiss you hard; to fuck you harder.

He shoves you into the mattress repeatedly, navigating in and out of you so easily that you think he might slip out. But he doesn’t; instead, he spills. Spills hotly, abundantly. You know the bed is soiled forever.

Somehow, you’re even sorry for anyone who might book this room next; but somehow, as guilty as you might feel about it, you feel better for yourself. Then again — it’s fine, right? You’re probably not the first to make a mess of a room like this.

Making out with you one last time, Jungkook remains like thi, not wanting to move as his dick still pulsates and twitches, softening just slowly. Doesn’t want the liquid to leak if he moves out. Maybe thinking the same about the room as you.

His next question, however, is an entirely different one, “Do you believe me now?”

You titter. Even now, even after witnessing each of your reactions, your boyfriend won’t let the thought go. Set on what he feels for you, he’ll probably prove it to you an entire lifetime long.

You promise, “I always will. From anyone in this world, I’ll believe it the most from you.”

“My baby,” he coos. Waits. Then sighs before he says, “Okay, enough of that distraction. We have breakfast to catch. I bet you, five more minutes and they’ll knock.”

“Oh… uh-oh. Quick shower and then hurry?”

“…Great idea.”

Only, the shower isn’t as quick as you anticipated — the two of you are silly, reforming your shampoo hair, giggling until the knocks occur and you bolt to the breakfast hall. The others are already eating; by the looks of it, they’ve just started, though.

Yoongi is the first to speak after you’ve exchanged your polite Good mornings. In fact, he scolds rather gently, “You guys are late. We need to be at the beach by noon, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, we just…” You shrug. “We were organising our suitcases.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nonchalantly confirms. “Forgot the time.”

Your excuses are so casual, so careful, your eyes busy as they watch your hands smear butter and jam on your toast. Only, you’re not as casual. Your friends fall silent. Their stares alternate between Jungkook and you as the two of you pass a knife or comment on the food.

No word until you hear Jimin gasp and look up at him. His expression seems amused, and you know he’s about to say something bold before he actually does—

“Oh, you fucked… You had the time to?!”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇��

1k block limit, beloved. you can read the remaining 10k of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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romana-after-dark · 8 months ago

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Blessed be the Fruit: Finale, part 1

Commander!Joel Miller x Handmaid!Reader

Series masterlist Join dark!Romana's tag list Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Summary: Joel takes you somewhere different, meeting Tommy there

Content and Warnings: DARK JOEL! DUB CON! (stressing the dub con again this chapter)

Although no violent rape happens like in TWW, reader is under systemic misogyny and a society of ritualized sex abuse. Everything other than the violent rape scenes, everything that happen in either The Handmaids Tale book or show are liable to happen here including but not limited to discussion of rape, child abuse, child marriage, ritualized sexual abuse, sexual abuse in general, acts of violence, major character deaths, mentions of miscarriage but never shown and never pregnancies we know of. Big ole homophobia warning, specifically in regards to lesbophobia. As for Joel, PIV sex, breeding kink, degrading (slut, whore etc but thing like Raider!joel) forced breeding and breeding kink, power dynamics, Joel is not the good guy but he’s also not the worst, slightly rough sex but not violent. Warnings are liable to be added as the story goes but I’ll always update. As always if I miss something please tell me, but i extensively label my warnings and in the end media consumption is your own choice. If you would like to know if this is a happy ending or not you can message me and I’ll tell you that way I don’t spoil for everyone but you can decide if this is for you.

Immersability: Reader has long hair, can conceive children theoretically.

Extra warnings: homophobia, pedophilia (nothing actually happens), David creepiness.

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You were stuck in the house on a rainy day, helping Lisa with the cookies for dinner tonight. Your head was swirling, memories of the last several nights making your thighs clench. You hadn’t seen Angela since the night you and her fucked 3 day ago, the heavy rain making the menial store runs not worth it for now. Couldn’t risk getting sick in case you were pregnant, now could you?

Would things change between you? Did this mean you were gay? You had no idea, you needed to see her, she was the only person you could trust with this. Joel hadn’t changed, continuing to fuck you last night, while the night before he taught Ellie. Ellie came before any for him.

She was upstairs right now with Riley and that made you even more nervous. You knew what they were doing, they weren’t subtle one bit. Ellie had no sense of self preservation, it seems. You decided to go upstairs to check on her, but quickly turned away when you heard the sound of kissing. Shit. They were loud. You didn’t want to interrupt them, feeling flustered and embarrassed by overhearing so you dash downstairs to try and see where Gina was, to make sure she wasn’t coming upstairs. It was there you saw Gina welcoming Bedford inside.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“You can fetch Elizabeth from her room, Commander Bedford.” Gina spoke. “She’s up there with Mrs. Jones. They are such close friends, I do hope they can see each other often when she’s married.”

“Of course, Mrs. Miller. It’s so important for the wives to have close friendship to grow closer to god with each other and lean on those hard times.”

You needed to get to Ellie. You neede to warm her before she’s caught; you doubted even Joel could keep her and Riley off the wall.

“I can go get her, Mrs. Miller” You offer and move towards Ellie’s, room, but Gina catches your arm.

She narrows her eyes at you. “No, I think Commander Bedford has it, thank you OfJoel.”

You try to push past. “Really, it’s no-”

But you were shoved away, into the hall, her grip still firm on you, and nodding David Bedford away to the girls room.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Mrs. Miller, you need to let me go, you need to stop him.” You’re getting more frantic, trying to get out of her grip but her fingernails dug into your skin painfully. “Ellie, she-”

Gina’s face was sudden close to yours. “I know what her and Riley are doing, you little harlot, I’m getting her out of my face so she can stop embaressing me.”

She was trying to get Ellie and Riley killed?

“ELLIE!” You start to scream but Gina worked fast, shoving you out the door and locking it.

You didn’t think to much on what you did next. You were never getting out of Gilead alive, you were never going to see your son again. You didn’t even know if this would do anything… but Joel was gone, and only one person could help. Taking off, you run next door, not stopping to knock. “COMMANDER MILLER! COMMANDER MILLER!” You ony had the slightest sense to think he call him commander miller instead of Tommy.

Angela appeared around the corner, green eyes wide and wild. “OfJoel, what are you-”

“I need Tommy, emergency!”

Hearing his name, Tommy runs down the stairs. “What the hell is happening!”

“Gina brought Commander Bedford to the house” You grab him and start pulling him out the house as you explain, there was no time to waste. “She’s there with Riley, they’re kissing, I- I don’t know what else, but Gina, she said she was trynng to get Ellie caught!”

Tommy ran past you. “Fucking bitch! Angela, stay here-”

“No fucking way!”

But Tommy shot her a look. Never have you seen Angela fold for a man, and certainly not Tommy. She liked Tommy, but you didn’t take orders from men you pegged. Angela as told to get to his office and call Joel

You tell Tommy the door is locked, but he has a spare key and gets inside. You hear shouting upstairs and Tommy’s long legs are taking the steps three at a time to get to his niece but you lag behind, slowed in your stupid shoes.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEM!”

Everyone was in the parlor.

A very terrified and wide eyed Ellie standing opposite of an equally scared Riley. Tommy stood by his niece and you, shouting at Gina. Commander Bedford stayed quiet, but his eyes were alert, carefully watching everyting and everyone. Luke and Lesa even lurked in the shadows, listening in.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!” Joel’s booming voice broke into the house, dorm slamming shut with such a force, pictures shook on the walls.

“Dad!” Ellie ran across the rooms, passing David and Gina fearlessly now that her father was in the room. Joel took her quickly into a protective hug, turning her body away from the household, his broad width keeping her from view. “Are you okay, baby girl?”

She nodded. “Dad, I fucked up, I fucked up so bad-”

“Shhh, Ellie, it’s okay…” He stroked her hair that had fallen out, tucking it behind her ears. “I’m gonna protect you.” With Ellie trailing behind him, he grabbed Riley as well, pulling her away from Bedford. He knew exactly what Bedford was, and would not allow him near either girl. He locked eyes with Tommy.

Gina spoke first. “This is your fault, allowing her to just do whatever she wants, she’s spoiled-”

“Hush, woman! Will someone explain to me what happened.”

Finally, David spoke. “It seems I caught Miss Miller and Mrs. Jones in a rather… compromising position.”

Joel stood tall and powerful in front of the two teens. “I certainly don’t know to what you’re implying, Bedford, but I suggest you tread lightly, here.”

David stepped forward, and eerie calm in his voice and soft smile on his face. “Commander Miller, I assure I want this all sorted out as well but the fact of the matter is I saw Miss Miller and Mrs. Jones kissing. Not only is this gender betrayal, but it’s an affair for Mrs. Jones, an affair in which Miss Miller is complicit. This can get both of them killed or sent to the colonies.” The colonies were basically a death sentence.

“Neither of them” He spoke firmly, sure. “Are going to the wall or the colonies, Bedford. They are just kids.” When this didn’t work, he softened his tone to the negotiator. “C’mon, David. You were a teacher, you know these are just kids, they do stupid shit.”

He shakes his head. “Actions need to have consequences, Joel, you know this. Back then, we allowed this sort of thing to run rampant and we were punished by God, taking away our children.”

“Bullshit!” Tommy barked across the room. “If God was punishing us for anything, it’s for sicko’s like you touching little kids!” With long strides, Tommy walked over shouting at Bedford, but Joel put up a hand to stop him. He needed to negotiate.

“What do you want, David?”

He sighed, holding both his hands behind his back. “I think young Elizabeth’s problem-”

Joel’s face shifted into a warning glower. “Do not talk about my daughter-”

“Is that she is at marriage age, needs a husband to set her on the right path.”

Tommy scoffed. “And that man is you?”

“Yes, I think so. She’s a strong willed woman, could be a leader among the wives if she’s set on the right path. The bible does, in fact, teach in favour of strong women, despite what our enemies say.”

From behind Joel, Ellie steps out, brave now that she has two protectors. “Yeah? Like who?” She challenged, Joel trying to hush her but sighing. He knew he couldn’t.

But David was not phased. “Judith, Ruth, Esther, Mary Magdalen. You would know that if you paid attention to theology class instead of staring at my niece.”

“I would know that if you let me read the damn bible!” She took a few short step towards David as she screamed at him, the room erupting in commotion

“Ellie!” Gina shouted and began to stride toward her daughter she clearly held so much contempt for, but Tommy gripped her arm yanking her back, growling to stay growing at her to ‘stay the hell away’ from Ellie.

Joel’s eyes widened; swearing was being added to her list of offenses today, and ‘damn bible’ made it worse, as did an expression of desire to read. She was digging herself deeper. Riley tried to cull Ellie back in, but the only thing that stopped her was Joel’s strong arm around her pulling her back in. The only person remaining calm was David.

“Allow me to marry Elizabeth, and I’ll make sure she fulfills her potential.”

Joel watched for a long time, planning his next move. He’d always been so in control, so sure of himself and the future… He hadn’t felt this lost since Sarah died. It was then he noticed you. WHen you and Joel locked eyes, you knew there was nothing he could do. He was accepting his fate.

“And you won’t tell a soul about her?”

“Dad, no!”

“No one outside of this room.”

“And Riley, you won’t tell Commander Jones?”

“Joel, man, what are you doing?”

“They’ll remain safe, you have my word.”

Joel took a deep breath. “Fine, you may inform the counsel of the betrothal, now get the fuck out of my home.”

Chaos shattered like glass, confusing everyone in the room as Bedford left the house.

“Dad! What the hell! What is wrong with you!” Ellie berated her dad. Gina tried to tell her to shut up, but Joel snapped and turned to his wife, eyes cold and sharp.

“You! I know you did this shit Gina. You’ll fucking pay for this, I’ll have your fucking head on a pike!”

Gina was undeterred. “She had to get married at some point-”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

When Gina left, he called for Luke, asking him to escort Ellie and Riley to the car, he was taking Riley home.

Ellie was furious. “How could you do this! How could you abandon me like everyone else!”

“Ellie.” Joel turned to her, placing two hands on her shoulders. “I promise you, I’m not letting that man touch you.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Not even you can stop this, Joel.” Ellie took Riley’s hand and followed behind Luke to the car. Only you, Tommy and him were left. Joel turned to you.

“Thank you, for getting Tommy. I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t get any backlash from Gina… you tell me if she does anything to yuh.” To Tommy now. “I’m coming over after I make sure Riley gets home safe, okay? We’re gonna figure this out.”

The worry in Tommy’s eyes said he wasn’t sure there was a way out at all.

********************

Im sorry this is taking 5 ever to write ;-;

I hope y'll still like it. I still care about this story and eeing it through <3

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dins-riduur-anthe @morallyinept @fan-fiction-floozy @med494 @taliarose12 @flvrdoll @k-ra @sam-2me @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @kyloispunk @jenna-ortega @lunitareads @labyrinthofheartagrams @swimmjacket @theywhowriteandknowthings @everyth1ngfan @movievillainess721 @syrupstuff @christinamadsen @darlingshame @genetics4life @stevngrant @crazysouthernlady @joeldjarin @gwendibleywrites @ladynightengale @justagalwhowrites @pedge-page @magpiepills @zliteraturehoe @lover-of-books-and-tea

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kwanisms · 2 years ago

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🎄Tales from Camp Holiday Special 02🎄

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➮ Chan × fem!Reader wc: 8.7k summary: After being put on wine duty for his family's holiday party, Chan heads to his local grocery store to snag the last few bottles where he sees a small group of girl scouts attempting to sell cookies. He is unwavering, refusing to buy into their corporate cookie empire until he sees who is helping run the stand: none other than Y/N. genres/themes/au: angst (but it only lasts for like 2 seconds lol), fluff, smut; holiday themes, scout themes; non idol au, scout au, camp counselor au, holiday au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, party setting, meeting parents, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @dreamhannies @wonw00t @aikisbbq @hoshithinker @eneiyri @ninanyctophilia @everyw0nu @enhacolor @hybe02z @wonwoothinker @baldi-2 @1004luvangel @hellolittlequeen @duchesskaren @coupsiekkuma @yoonjin96 @sherituhhh join my taglists: permanent | group | special closes after part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: hey hehe. I kept the same bondage themes from the original cause I feel like he'd still be very much into that lol I'm going to say about 3 or 4 years have passed since the events of Chan's story and the present time but don't think too much about it lol thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: minor dry humping, unprotected sex (just use protection!), minor bondage (f receiving, necktie used as a gag and belt used to bind wrists), impact play (f receiving; spanking and he goes hard), choking (f receiving), spitting, degradation (uses slut, whore, and bitch), hard dom!Chan, sub!Reader, rough sex, and that should be it!

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Chan still didn't know how he of all people got roped into alcohol duty. One minute he was pulling onto his old street, heading for his parents house, the next he was turning around when his mother begged him to run to the closest store and grab a few bottles of wine because his father had mistakenly sent a couple of the bottles meant for their annual holiday party home with some of their friends.

So here he was, the day before Christmas, trying to find a stupid parking place at the local grocery store so he could go in and fight the crowds to buy a couple bottles of wine because his father drunkenly gave away theirs.

He grumbled to himself as he circled the parking lot for what felt like the fifth time, cursing each spot that got stolen by some family or little old lady until he pulled up as another person was leaving.

"Finally!" he whined as the person backed out and pulled away, allowing Chan to steer into the empty space and park the car. "About damn time," he mumbled as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, slamming his door a little harder than he intended.

He pat the top of his car, muttering an apology before turning and heading toward the entrance of the store, thanking the cars that stopped to let him cross with a wave.

It had snowed heavily a few days before but there had been enough traffic and crews out to clear the lots and sidewalks of most of the slush and snow banks. Chan hurried past an employee bundled to the max as he sprinkled ice melt on the sidewalk in preparation of the forecasted snow shower later that night.

It would be a white Christmas after all.

Chan followed the lines inside the building and bypassed the carts, opting to grab one of those little red baskets stacked near the doors. He was only grabbing a few bottles, he didn't need an entire cart, he reasoned with himself.

No sooner than he entered the main entrance did he stop in his tracks, eyes falling on the table set up inside the store.

A homemade poster made with poster board, craft foam, and copious amounts of glitter and glue read three words he hadn't seen in years.

Girl Scout Cookies.

It took all his willpower not to turn around and walk right out of the store in favor of finding another store to shop at to avoid the eventual begging and puppy dog eyes of third grade girls asking him to feed into their corporate cookie schemes.

He wasn't having it.

Except that he was.

He really didn't relish the idea of driving even further across town and struggling to find another parking place just so he could walk into another grocery store that probably had another troop of girls set up to sell their wares.

Chan managed to avoid being seen by sneaking past the stand with an elderly couple.

Dodging the scouts meant he could make a beeline for the wine and spirits section of the store and get exactly what he came for. And what luck he had. There were exactly three bottles of the wine his mother had asked him for.

Resisting the urge to do a little happy dance, Chan grabbed all three bottles and made his way towards the self-checkout. He scanned the bottles, showed his ID to the attendant and paid quickly, bagging the bottles of wine and grabbing his receipt.

He was just reveling in his good fortune as he headed for the exit, hoping to slink past the cookie stand when his luck ran out.

The crowded entrance was certainly not on his side. He stood on his tiptoes to see what the hold up was and of course, one of the motorized carts had died, blocking the only exit out of the store.

Chan cursed under his breath, pulling back his coat sleeve to check his watch. The holiday party at his parents wasn't due to start for another hour and forty-five minutes so this little snag wasn't going to make or break him.

As he waited for the way to clear, his eyes wandered to the only other thing by the entrance of the store.

That damn cookie stand.

He took in the small girls making monetary exchanges for overpriced boxes of factory made baked goods.

His eyes were wandering from one of the girls to one of the adults standing behind her, back facing him as she looked through the cardboard boxes. He watched as she turned and his eyes widened in shock as he recognized her.

Or should he say as he recognized you.

When your sister-in-law called a week ago, you expected it to be about the holidays, Christmas at the family's. What you weren't expecting was your niece to be on the other end, begging you to fill in for her mother and help sell girl scout cookies.

It was well known amongst your family that when it came to selling girl scout cookies, you were a professional. You'd manage to outsell all the girls in your troop every year as well as the other troops in the city. You were good at it as a child. A natural born salesperson.

So when you heard that little voice begging you for your help, you couldn't say no. You expected to just take the back seat while the girls did most of the selling but you soon found yourself falling into old habits, helping make the sign when the first one the girls made fell a little flat. You showed them how to enhance the sign by using craft foam letters, glue, sharpies, and an insane amount of glitter.

You drove to your brother’s house, ready to pick up your niece and one of her fellow scouts. Luckily, the girls helped load all the boxes into your car and the large sign which you looked at with a sense of pride and adoration.

The drive to the local grocery store was an easy one and finding a parking space wasn’t too bad since you chose to park towards the back of the lot. The girls were prepared, having packed a wagon in your trunk along with the cookies.

Inside the store was another one of the scouts with her mother who had already set up the table. She smiled warmly as you approached, carrying the few boxes that didn’t fit in the wagon while your niece, Talia, carried the sign and the other girl you picked up, Yuna, pulled the wagon.

It didn’t take long at all to set up the stand, decorating the table with the sign you’d helped Talia make and unpacking some of the individual boxes of cookies.

The first hour went by and you were surprised at how easily people came over and bought cookies. You, of course, worked your magic, creating sales and teaching the girls how to drive a bargain.

As time ticked by and the number of boxes dwindled, you were certain that the girls would sell all of their cookies before the store closed for the evening.

The cardboard boxes had emptied little by little and soon you were down to the last carton of cookies.

“Two boxes of Samoas!” Talia called to you over her shoulder as she made change for the store patron in front of her. You turned, leaning over to reach into the box and pull out the last two purple colored boxes.

“They’re the last two!” You chirped, turning to look at the patron but your eyes fell on someone standing behind them, looking directly at you with a shocked expression.

‘Chan?’

It was indeed him. Lee Chan. The same Lee Chan you’d met, and hooked up with, during summer scout camp all those years ago. The very same that tied your wrists together and fucked you on a picnic blanket in the middle of a forest.

The same Lee Chan that had disappeared without a trace after that summer, leaving you with a gaping hole in your heart.

Here he was, standing before you now and all because some old woman hadn’t bothered to check the battery on the motorized scooter.

“Auntie Y/N?” Talia’s voice snapped you out of your daze.

You tore your gaze away from Chan and looked at your niece who had been waiting for you to hand the boxes to her. ‘Shit.’

You muttered an apology and handed the boxes of cookies to her.

Your eyes wandered back to Chan who was still standing in the same spot as before, looking at you with the same shocked expression.

You silently hoped he would stop staring and just leave but the universe had other plans.

With a sense of determination he hadn’t experienced in a long time, Chan finally unfroze, crossing the short distance to the table with one thing on his mind: you.

“Hello sir!” A small voice said, drawing his attention away from your face as he looked down at the young girl in front of him.

She was smiling up at him eagerly. ‘Oh no.’

“Would you like to buy some cookies?” She asked and Chan felt his heart sink. He’d never purchased scout cookies before, preferring his mother’s homemade cookies.

Before he could answer, the other adult told the girls it was time to pack up. “But we still have boxes to sell!” One of the other girls said, looking up at the adult who spoke, a pout on her face. “But mom!” She retorted, no real argument to her name. The girl’s mother gave her a pointed look.

The girl who had asked Chan if he wanted to buy cookies turned to look up at you, eyes pleading for more time.

Chan watched as you stepped forward, crouching down to the girl’s level. “It’s okay, Talia,” you said in a soft voice. “We’ve sold most of the boxes,” you added, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You girls did so well,” you continued, offering the girl, Talia, a smile.

Talia smiled back and wrapped her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. “Thanks Auntie Y/N,” she said in an equally soft voice. Chan watched the exchange and felt an unusual tug at his heart. He knew he was going to regret this and his wallet was going to hurt but he cleared his throat, catching both yours and Talia’s attention.

“How many boxes are left?” He asked quietly, looking from you to your niece and back.

“Six~!” Talia replied quickly. Chan looked from Talia to you, waiting for you to confirm. You nodded slowly and silently, a confused expression on your face as he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll buy the rest,” he said, pulling a few notes out of his wallet and handing them over to Talia.

She let out an excited squeak, thanking him and taking his money to make change.

You stood up straight, still looking at Chan with a confused expression. Talia handed him his change as one of the other girls put the boxes in a cardboard box and set it on the table. “Thank you so much!” The girls said in unison. Chan smiled at them before turning to look back up at your face.

“Thanks?” You offered, clearly still confused by his actions. “Start cleaning up, girls,” the other adult said and the three scrambled to start collecting any trash and cleaning up the space.

“So,” Chan started, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t realize you lived in town,” he added. You shook your head. “I don’t,” you answered. “I’m in town for Christmas and I promised my niece I’d help her sell her cookies,” you continued, gesturing at Talia who was currently helping break down boxes and put them in the empty wagon.

Chan nodded, silence falling over the two of you once more.

You swayed awkwardly in place before clearing your throat. “Well, I’d better help them…” you trailed off, gesturing to the girls as they started clearing the table.

Chan felt panic rise in his chest. ‘This might be the last and only time you see her you idiot! Do something!’

He took a step closer, bumping into the table and causing you to turn, eyeing him with wide eyes as he startled you.

“Do you have plans later?” He suddenly asked. Your eyes searched his, flickering between them.

“I’m sorry,” Chan said quickly, shaking his head. “That was stupid of me to ask. I mean,” he said, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips. “Who doesn’t have plans on Christmas Eve?”

You shook your head. You didn’t have plans. The tradition of the cookies and milk left out for Santa as well as what your sister-in-law called “Santa Watch” was theirs, not yours. You were going to go back to your parents’ house and probably curl up with a glass of wine.

“Me apparently,” you answered, a smirk forming on your face as Chan looked up to meet your gaze.

A smile spread across his face. “Wait, really?” He asked, to which you nodded.

“I’m staying with my parents, but we don’t do anything for Christmas Eve,” you answered, watching as Chan’s face lit up. “Do you want to go to a Christmas Eve party with me tonight?” He asked, hoping you’d say yes.

This could be your only chance to see him before you left the city again after the first of the year.

You nodded wordlessly, watching as he reached into his pocket and fished out his phone.

He unlocked and tapped the screen a few times before handing the device to you, which you accepted.

He had opened a new contact on his phone and had your name typed in. You typed your digits in and tapped the save button before handing it back to him. “The party starts at six but I can pick you later,” he said, pocketing his phone. “Sure,” you said with a nod and a smile. “So, let’s say six-thirty?” He asked, smiling widely when you nodded again. “Six-thirty sounds great,” you replied.

╾─────────────⭒✧⭒─────────────╼

You sat at the breakfast bar in your parents’ kitchen, checking the time on the clock above the range. The tiny black hands told you the time was six fifteen. You had half a mind to cancel but you knew you'd probably never get another chance to spend time with Chan again.

Picking up your phone on the counter, you unlocked the screen and checked your texts with him from earlier.

Chan: send me your location and I’ll come get you You: [location sent] Chan: perfect! See you soon

Letting out a sigh, you locked the screen and set your phone back on the granite countertop, face down and looked over your shoulder to the sliding glass doors leading off the living room onto the snow covered deck in the backyard. It had started snowing again, lightly, as you were getting ready.

You hoped the snow wouldn’t pile up too much. You dreaded the thought of getting snowed in at Chan’s parents home, especially when it was on the opposite side of the city than your parents' home.

You drummed your fingers against the countertop, chin resting in your hand as you waited, trying not to focus on the ticking of the clock.

You wondered if you were overdressed, glancing down at the dress you’d chosen. It was one of your favorites for any holiday themed event but it could work for any other time of the year.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by the vibrating of your phone on the stone countertops.

You snatched the device up quickly to see a couple texts from Chan.

Chan: I think I’m here? Chan: yeah. I’m here. I see your car lol

You got up, ignoring the scraping of the barstool legs on the wood floor and grabbed the small clutch bag you’d chosen for the evening, a smaller black velvet rectangular clutch with gold metal detailing and a dainty gold chain strap.

Inside you had a tube of lip gloss, your lipstick, a small compact mirror, and your wallet. You slipped your phone into the space and moved to grab your coat from the closet by the front door.

As you pulled it on and buttoned the front, the doorbell rang and you rushed to answer it.

On the other side of the door stood Chan. He smiled as you came into view, his eyes sweeping over you quickly. You allowed yourself to take in what he was wearing and knew you’d made the right choice.

He was wearing a pair of fitted black dress pants with a black corduroy thick jacket. Under the jacket, he wore a light khaki sweatshirt with a black trim neckline over a white collared shirt, the top of a black tie barely visible.

His shoes were a simple pair of oxfords in the same blue as your dress.

You pointed down at his shoes, a smile on your face. “Oh look!” You said before pulling back your coat just a bit to flash him the material of your dress.

“We match!” You said with a laugh, causing him to chuckle. “So we do,” he said as you stepped out of the door onto the front porch.

The frigid winter air hit your legs and made you shudder as you pulled the front door shut, making sure it was locked behind you before turning to Chan.

“Holy fuck it’s cold,” you hissed as he laughed, leading you down the steps, holding out his hand for you to steady yourself.

“Thanks,” you murmured as you drew level with him on the sidewalk leading to the driveway. You followed him to his car, a black mid sized sedan with tinted windows.

You felt your cheeks burn as he opened the passenger door for you.

Thanking him, you climbed into the surprisingly warm car that you realized was still running. He must have left it running to keep the interior warm.

Chan jogged around the front of the car and got in the driver’s seat, buckling his seatbelt before looking up at you with a smile. “You ready?” He asked, putting the gear in reverse. You nodded wordlessly, turning to look out the window as he backed out of your parents’ driveway.

‘As ready as I think I can be.’

Pulling up to the house, Chan cut the engine and turned to you. "If they start asking questions, I'll jump in and explain," he said, giving you a warm smile. You thanked him and moved to unbuckle your seatbelt.

Chan was quick, moving around to your side of the car and opening your door for you. "Wow, what a gentleman," you said, a hint of amusement to your voice as the tips of his ears turned red.

"Oh shut up," he scoffed but the smile on his lips was unmistakable.

You glanced up at the house before you and felt your stomach sink just a little.

You had suspected Chan came from money from your summer spent together but just how much money his family had always seemed to elude you until you were standing on the doorstep of his family home, feeling completely out of your comfort zone.

You felt Chan's hand grab yours gently and looked down at your hands before looking back up at him. "Nervous?" he asked, eyes searching yours.

Not wanting him to know just how nervous you actually were, you flashed him a smile. "A little," you said with a small shrug.

'Liar.'

Chan gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before his free hand landed on the doorknob and pushed the level down.

He leaned into the wood, pushing the heavy door open and stepping up into the house. You allowed him to lead you inside, pulling you along gently by the hand.

Inside the house was simply stunning.

It was clear this house had been standing for some time. It was old but extremely well preserved.

The foyer was grander than any house you'd been inside recently. The high ceiling paired with the massive crystal chandelier gave the room a very regal and elegant look.

The floors were white carrara marble. The small polished black diamond shaped tiles in between the squares of marble made the ornate black wood paneling stand out even more.

You quickly unbuttoned your coat and shrugged it off, allowing Chan to take it and hang it up with his.

Chan closed the sliding door to the den after hanging your coat up with his in the darkened room his parents designated as the coat room.

Upon returning to you, he allowed his eyes to wander, taking in the dress you’d chosen to wear.

It was a fitted bodycon dress made of a dark blue velvet with corset bone striping down the bodice and a ruched tulip hem skirt that ended just above your knees.

The straps were thin with gold chain detailing.

He could hardly take his eyes off you and the way the dress fitted your body and hugged it so well.

He placed his hand on the small of your back, reluctantly tearing his gaze away to lead you through the crowded house in search of refreshments and hopefully some wine or champagne.

The kitchen was just as gorgeous as the foyer, the same black wood paneling stopped to make way for a much more modern looking kitchen with black wood flooring, white cabinets and counters with black subway tile walls. You were surprised by the sudden change in architecture and style but it was still amazing.

The counters were covered in any sort of snack, appetizer, or hors d’oeuvre imaginable. In the middle of the kitchen stood a massive kitchen island where plates, bowls, ramekins, cutlery, napkins, and cups were stocked.

The breakfast nook had been emptied of any furniture and instead a bar had been installed where two bartenders stood, mixing drinks.

You glanced at Chan, an eyebrow raised. “A full bar?” You questioned, chuckling as he shrugged his shoulders. “My parents don’t play around when it comes to parties,” he answered, leading you to the kitchen island.

After grabbing plates, napkins and cutlery, you followed Chan through the line, inspecting the spread and grabbing a few things you knew you were going to love as well as a few things you’d always wanted to try.

After filling your plates, Chan led you to the bar and the two of you ordered drinks before you followed him to an empty space and sat on one of many seats placed around each room.

“This is crazy impressive,” you said, grabbing a small cracker appetizer with some sort of cream cheese mixture on it and popping it into your mouth.

Chan snorted in response. “These parties just keep getting bigger and bigger,” he admitted, looking up as a couple passed in front of where you two were currently sitting. “My parents probably invited half the town,” he added.

You giggled before taking a sip of your drink.

You opened your mouth to respond but you were cut off by the sound of someone calling Chan’s name. He grimaced at you before mouthing an “I’m sorry.”

You watched as he got to his feet and smiled as an older woman, most likely his mother, approached and pulled him into a hug. You stood up, awkwardly brushing your dress to make sure you looked presentable.

The woman pulled back, smiling at Chan and you could tell instantly it was indeed his mother.

Her eyes fell on you and widened quickly.

“Who is this?” She asked, looking from Chan to you and back.

Chan took your hand and pulled you closer.

“This is Y/N,” he answered, turning to look at the woman. “She’s my date, mom,” he added, confirming your suspicions that this was his mother.

Her shocked expression upon seeing you morphed into a warm smile as she let go of Chan and immediately wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s so lovely to meet you!” She said in your ear, hugging you tightly.

A man, no doubt Chan’s dad, stepped forward to peel her off you and hold her firmly. He offered a kind smile as well, introducing himself as Chan’s father, as you suspected.

The conversation shifted as Chan’s parents started grilling the both of you about how you met, when you started dating, and more questions you’d expected. Chan took it like a champ, answering everything so you could nurse your drink and empty your plate.

One your plates were empty, Chan’s mother took you by the arm firmly but gently, and proceeded to lead you through the house, introducing you to various guests as well as showing you around the house.

You were on the second round passing through the main living area and greeting people when Chan finally appeared by your side, handing you another drink and leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“You want to step away? Get some air?”

You took the crystal glass he handed you with some amber liquid and nodded, looking at him with pleading eyes. Chan smiled and leaned in to his mother, whispering something in her ear. She nodded and smiled at you, patting your arm and turned to engage with her guests while Chan took your hand and led you through the crowded room to a staircase and up into the darkened hallway.

You let him lead you past closed doors until he reached the end of the hall and opened the door, pulling you into the dark room.

He moved through the darkness and flipped on a small table lamp, illuminating the room in a dim light.

Peering around the room, which turned out to be a bedroom, you noticed various trophies for sports and academics. You stepped closer to a bookshelf next to the door and looked at all the various encyclopedias and fictional stories, reading off the names softly.

You were inspecting a series of personal academic awards when you remembered you weren't alone in the room and turned to find Chan was watching you look around what was no doubt his old room. You smiled sheepishly, mumbling an apology before turning away from the shelf and taking a sip of your drink.

You weren't the biggest fan of whiskey but this stuff wasn't bad.

"So…" you trailed off, not knowing where the conversation should go, if you should even talk, or what else could possibly happen.

"Your room?" you asked, nodding at the trophies. Chan chuckled lightly. "Yeah," he answered, suddenly feeling very nervous and self conscious. "My childhood room," he added, taking a sip of his own drink. You moved slowly, walking over to the opposite side of the room, the side he stood by.

There were lots of drawings and a bulletin board full of postcards, notes and other scraps of paper hanging above an old wooden desk. The desk itself was neat and tidy, no doubt having been cleared of whatever sat upon it when Chan moved out.

You heard shuffling against the carpet and felt the heat of Chan's body behind you as he set his now empty glass on the wood of the desk in front of you. You wondered when he finished that because it looked much fuller a moment ago.

You felt one of his hands move to your hip, not moving either up or down, just resting in one place, while the tips of his fingers skimmed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake and sending shivers up your spine.

"Why did you bring me here?" you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as you felt his breath on your neck.

"I thought you could use some space from the people downstairs," he whispered back. You forced your eyes open and turned to face him, his hands shifting to your waist as his eyes studied yours.

"No," you replied. "Why did you bring me here, to your parents' party? Why did you invite me after years of not seeing or speaking to each other?"

Chan's expression changed as you spoke, going from confusion to understanding in a split second. One of his hands moved, cupping your cheek tenderly. "Because I thought if I didn't ask you, I might not get a chance to see you again," he answered after carefully considering his words.

Your eyes danced back and forth, looking into his as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone. "Why did you disappear that summer?" you finally asked. It was the question you'd wanted to ask since you first laid eyes on him in the store.

The expression on Chan's morphed quickly, confusion, concern, understanding, and finally regret passing over his features in quick succession. He let out a heavy sigh before taking your drink out of your hand and setting it on the desk, taking your other hand and leading you over to sit on his old bed.

He sat beside you, turned slightly so he could face you properly.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I am so sorry. I never intended to just vanish," he continued. You sat motionless, listening as he started to apologize and explain.

"I had every intention of continuing things that summer. I didn't want things to end between us. I wanted to get your number, your Instagram, anything so I could contact you but there was a family emergency," he said, taking both your hands in his.

"My brother was in an accident. A really bad one," Chan said, trying to keep his voice even but you could hear how the memory seemed to affect him as he spoke.

"My parents didn't even give me a heads up. They sent a car to come get me. I didn't even have time to leave a message for you. I had time to pack my stuff and then we were gone."

You looked up at his face and watched as his expression of torment morphed into one of shock. "Oh, Y/N," he said softly, hands moving to gently take your face. It was then you realized you had started crying. You apologized, trying to carefully wipe the tears away.

"I'm sorry," you said, chuckling awkwardly. "I don't know why I'm crying," you mumbled.

"It's not like you were my boyfriend."

Hearing the sadness in your voice as you said those words felt like a stab to Chan's heart. Sure, he wasn't your boyfriend. But that didn't mean he didn't want to be.

"I guess I just felt like I'd done something wrong," you continued. "One day you were there and everything seemed to be fine and the next, you were gone. No note, no calls, nothing. I thought you had grown tired of us. Grown tired of me-"

Chan took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him.

You didn't have the chance to say anything else before his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was rushed and over much too quick for your liking. Chan pulled back to gaze into your eyes.

"I would never intentionally do that to you, Y/N. I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I didn't want things to end that way and I certainly did not want you to feel like I didn't want you. I tried to find you, to find a way to contact you after I got home but I couldn't find you anywhere," he responded softly, thumb moving to brush over your bottom lip gently.

"To me, you were gone, too."

The way he looked at you had your heart aching. It had been mutual then. The pining, the regret, everything.

He'd wanted more, just as you had back then and even now. You couldn't deny that what you felt then and now were feelings of more than just sexual or physical attraction.

Each time you spent together that summer was more than just sex. The two of you had talked about your hopes and dreams, poured your hearts and souls out to one another.

And hearing those words from Chan now were confirmation that he was feeling the same way you were.

"Well I'm here now," you said softly, causing Chan to look up at you. "I'm right here in front of you now, Chan."

Hearing his name tumble from your lips ignited something deep inside him. His lips were on yours in an instant, hands moving to your hips as he pulled you forward and onto his lap.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you straddled him, lips moving against his before parting, allowing his tongue to meet yours for the first time in years.

It was as if nothing had changed.

Chan groaned into your mouth, his hands grabbing your ass firmly as he pulled your hips against his. "Fuck, I missed you," he groaned, his hips bucking up into you, his growing erection pressing into your core. You let out a moan, hands moving to his chest to push him back against the sheets of his old bed.

You rolled your hips, grinding against him and watching the way his eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. "You always knew how to ride me," you heard him mutter. Feeling a little bolder than before, you let out a chuckle at his words.

"You look so cute like this," you said softly, slowing your movements just enough to tease him, and yourself, but not give him the pressure and friction he wanted.

"Don't tease me, Y/N," he moaned. "You remember what happened the last time you decided to act like a brat?"

You shook your head, putting on an innocent facade.

"No. I don't," you answered before a smirk appeared on your face.

"Maybe you should remind me."

Your words had Chan flipping you onto your back on his bed and hovering over you in seconds. He rolled his hips against you, rocking his hard cock into your lace-covered sex, the feeling sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

You let out a whine, your back arching off the bed as he continued rutting against you, causing your panties to stick to you, your arousal seeping through the fabric.

"God look at you," he breathed, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure with each roll of his hips.

"I haven't even touched you properly and you're acting like such a needy slut," he added. You moaned again at the use of the term, thighs clenching around his waist, trying to draw him closer.

"You're so eager for my cock, baby?" he asked, leaning down to kiss you hungrily and not give you the chance to answer him.

"Yes," you finally managed to gasp out when he pulled back.

"Of course you are," he responded, one of his hands sliding up your side to cup your breast through your dress.

"You knew exactly what you were doing when you wore this dress. Parading around like a bitch in heat, showing off your body like a little whore," he growled, hips rutting harder against you.

"Fuck, did you wear this so everyone would see what a slut you are?" he asked, hand on your chest squeezing again. You shook your head quickly. "No! I only wore this for you," you moaned, not noticing the way Chan's face lit up at your admission.

"So you're my little slut?" he asked, slowing his movements as you nodded in response.

"Only yours," you breathed, chest heaving.

Chan pulled back, making you whine until you felt his hands grab your hips and roll you over. He pushed your thighs together and climbed over you, straddling your thighs as his hands moved to your ass, grabbing your cheeks firmly before you felt one of his hands land a firm smack.

The material of your dress helped absorb the shock of the blow but Chan, realizing this, moved quickly, pushing the material up and exposing your ass to him. He groaned, fingers skimming over the material of the black lace thong you were wearing.

"Did you wear these for me, too, baby?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded, murmuring a 'yes' in response.

You felt his hand land another harsh smack to your ass, causing you to yelp. Chan's fingers threaded into your hair and pulled back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Keep your voice down, baby. Unless you want everyone in the house to know you're about to get fucked."

A shiver ran down your spine, a rush of arousal shooting through your core.

Another sharp smack to your ass had you whimpering into the sheets to muffle the sound. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson," Chan murmured, hands working to undo the tie around his neck.

You looked back over your shoulder as he pulled the material loose and leaned forward, rolling it up and holding it to your face.

"Open that pretty mouth, babygirl," he ordered. You obliged, opening your mouth and allowing him to stuff the rolled up tie past your lips and against your tongue.

With your voice effectively gagged, he started his assault on your ass, delivering sharp smacks before running his hand soothingly over your skin. He made sure to ask if you needed to tap out but each time you shook your head.

After a good ten to twelve blows, your ass was red and raw. Chan made sure to gently rub the sensitive skin, asking if you needed a break or anything. You shook your head again, wanting him to continue.

You felt his fingers fumble with the back of your dress and heard the unzipping of the zipper as he pulled it down. He helped you shimmy out of the material, leaving you in just your panties.

"Fuck," you heard him gasp, hands moving along your skin and up your back. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured. You felt his fingers skim over the lace of your thong, thumbs toying with the waistband briefly before his hands disappeared, making you glance over your shoulder at him.

His hands made quick work of his belt, pulling it from the belt loops of his pants as his eyes were trained on your ass. “Give me your hands,” he ordered, eyes moving up to meet yours. You hesitated, eyeing the belt in his hands and wondering what he was planning on doing with it.

Chan gave your thigh a quick tap with the belt. “Did you hear me, baby?” He asked, cocking his head.

“Hands, now.”

You moved faster than you were able to process his words, offering your hands behind your back. Chan positioned your arms behind your back, elbows bent before he started to wrap the belt around your wrists and forearms, effectively binding you. You couldn’t move much, only squirm under him as you heard the rustle of his pants as well as the zipper.

Chan leaned over, grabbing one of the pillows near the headboard and sat back, one hand reaching under you to lift your hips and stuff the pillow underneath you.

His hands were back on your ass, barely skimming the skin that was still sore as he muttered to himself. “Never imagined I’d be doing this in my old bedroom,” he said with a low chuckle as you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. His hands moved, nails raking down your skin and pulling your panties down until he was able to slip them past your knees and off entirely.

You were now completely exposed to him and entirely at his mercy with your arms bound.

Chan let out a groan, sliding his hands up your thighs until he was able to spread your cheeks, displaying your wet core to him. You heard another growl rumble from deep in his chest. “God,” he breathed out. “Look at how wet you are,” he continued. “Practically dripping.”

You wiggled your hips, one of the only things you could do at this point. Chan chuckled lightly before falling silent. You were about to look back at him but felt him circle his fingers around your entrance, gathering your arousal before he pushed two fingers into your wet cunt.

You moaned against the gag, eyes rolling back at finally getting some friction as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you at a torturously languid pace. You wiggled your hips again, trying to push back against his hand but Chan removed his fingers, harshly slapping your ass, sending a jolt of pain through your body that was immediately replaced with pleasure as his fingers were back at your slit, rubbing up and down slowly.

“Stop acting like a brat,” he hissed. “You’ll get what you want in time.”

You used your tongue to push the gag out of your mouth. “Chan please,” you whimpered, voice hoarse. You heard him tut lightly, feeling him lean over you, pressing his hard cock against your ass. “Now you want to be a good girl?” He asked, ending his sentence with a scoff.

“I promise I’ll be good,” you continued, feeling your eyes and cheeks burn. “Please Chan,” you begged again. "You made me wait long enough," you added, hoping he would give in. “You gonna be a good little whore for me?” He asked, lips brushing against your ear as he ducked his head. You nodded quickly. “I promise.”

“So eager to please,” he said, smiling against your skin as his lips trailed down to your shoulder. “I suppose I could give you what you want.”

Your stomach bubbled with excitement as he sat back up. You didn’t dare look back as he pushed his pants and underwear down, pulling his cock out finally and giving himself a few strokes before taking your ass in his hands again, spreading your cheeks once more and spitting on your already soaked pussy.

You let out a lewd moan as you felt him line the tip of his cock with your hole and before you could register anything else, he was pushing himself into you, stretching you out so deliciously.

“Oh,” he said, surprisingly calm as if he wasn’t nearly balls deep inside you. “Can’t forget this,” he added, reaching over you and grabbing his tie before holding it to your face. “Chan,” you whimpered, trying to calm yourself as you adjusted to his size.

“I know how loud you get, baby,” he cooed, leaning over your body. “Unless you’d rather everyone, including my parents, know I’m fucking you up here,” he added. You shook your head.

The idea of walking back into the party after having your brains fucked out by the hosts’ son was one thing, but returning to the party when everyone might have heard mortified you.

Obediently, you opened your mouth and allowed Chan to shove the cloth back into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised, softly kissing your temple, the action making your heart flutter and your stomach do flips.

And just like that, the sweet and shy Chan you’d grown accustomed to during the day was gone, replaced with his much more confident and dominant side.

The first thrust was shallow, making you gasp, despite the gag in your mouth.

The second and third thrusts were harsh and soon the room was filled with the sound of Chan’s hips meeting your ass, skin hitting skin as he pounded into you, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you in place.

Your walls clenched around him, sucking him back in each time he pulled out. “Fuck,” he moaned. “I forgot how tight your cunt is,” he continued, voice cracking as he tried to keep up his dom persona.

You whimpered, letting out muffled moans with each hard thrust as you tried to push back to meet him but with your arms bound behind you, there was no way of grounding yourself and you were at the mercy of his grip.

One of his hands moved, grabbing your bound arms and pulling you up, not stopping or slowing the movements of his hips. Your body moved with the force of each ruthless thrust into your drenched pussy.

Even with the gag, you were still able to make plenty of sound for him to hear and each one of your moans had him digging his fingers into your skin a little hard, moving his hips a little faster.

It had been years since he’d had you like this but it felt like no time had passed since scout camp. The way your body reacted to him was almost exactly as it had back then. He knew how you liked it then and it wasn’t any different now.

You liked it rough and he liked to give it rough.

You let out a loud moan, the gag slipping out of your mouth and falling to the bed soaked in your spit. Chan let out a growl, letting your body fall back against the mattress as he stopped, stilling inside you and worked to undo his belt and remove it, releasing your arms.

Despite the harsh and hard way he fucked you, his hands were gentle as he repositioned your arms above your head and grabbed his tie from the bed, ignoring how wet the material was as he tied your wrists together before resuming his assault on your core.

With your hands in this new position, you were able to grab onto the sheets and keep yourself in place.

“You have to keep quiet,” you heard him pant. “You really -ah!- think i can keep quiet when you’re- oh fuck!- when you’re fucking me so hard?” You whimpered, cursing between each stroke.

“You’re going to have to,” he growled, stilling inside you again. “Or I’ll stop right now,” he added.

You peered over your shoulder at him. “When you’re so close to coming?” You questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to push my buttons, baby?” He asked, thrusting forward with his cock buried deep inside you.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl,” he continued, pulling back slowly only to snap his hips forward.

“I am being a good girl,” you answered. You felt one of his hands reach around to grab your throat. “Good girls don’t talk back, baby,” he cooed, his voice low and sending shivers down your spine.

He squeezed lightly, fingers holding your neck firmly but not harshly.

“That’s what I thought,” he scoffed. “Stop acting like a little bitch and take what I give you,” he growled, his hips gaining speed as he fucking you against the mattress.

You let out a gasp, quickly turning into whimpers and mewls as Chan proceeded to fuck you dumb. Your lips parted, no sound coming out as you arched your back, allowing him to reach deeper inside your walls, each drag of his cock having you see stars as your orgasm approached. “Fuuuuuuuuck,” you moaned out. “M’gonna cum,” you whined.

Chan chuckled, his grip on your neck loosening. “You gonna come for me?” He whispered in your ear, making you nod vigorously. “Such a good little slut,” he mumbled. “Gonna cum all over this cock?” You whimpered, nodding again as you felt your orgasm wash over you. “Good girl,” Chan breathed, releasing your throat as he helped you ride your climax out. “You take me so well, you always have,” he continued to praise you as you came down from your high.

“Wait, what about you?” You whined, slowly coming to your senses. “Be a good girl and lay still for me, okay?” He whispered. You nodded as his hand covered your mouth and for good reason.

The next moment, he was pounding into you like his life depended on it, chasing his own high. His hand muffled your cries and screams of pleasure as he abused your cunt, bringing himself closer to his climax.

As your second orgasm rolled over you in waves, Chan let out a moan, hips stilling as he came. You felt his teeth dig into your shoulder as he released inside you, painting your walls white with his hot load. You moaned against his hand as he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him and milking his cock.

As you both came down together, chan released his hold over your mouth and groaned, kissing the spot where his teeth had dug into your skin. “Sorry,” he murmured, more to your skin than to you. You winced as he pulled out of you and sat back, looking down where he could see his cum seeping out of you. “Shit,” he cursed as he pulled his pants and underwear back up. “Let me get something to clean you up with.”

He was gone for a moment before he returned with a clean towel and spread your legs to clean your skin off. You felt two of his fingers gather his cum and push it back into you, causing you to moan into the sheets.

“Let’s get you dressed,” you heard him say softly.

He had your panties back on and your dress zipped back up in no time as you tried your best to salvage what was left of your appearance. “Do I look like I just got my brains fucked out?” You asked, hoping for an honest answer. Chan smiled, reaching up to take your chin in his fingers.

“Yeah but to be fair, you did just get your brains fucked out,” he answered, causing your cheeks to burn as you let out a whine and leaned into him, hiding your face in his neck. Chan let out a laugh and wrapped an arm around you.

“You want me to take you home?” He asked softly. “If I say yes, will you stay with me?” You asked quietly, fingers playing with the collar of his white shirt. The silence between you lasted for only a moment before he answered.

“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to.”

The two of you left his room, making your way back down to the first floor where the party was still in full swing and no one even batted an eye. Chan left you for a moment to get your coats but a moment was all it took for his mother and father to find you.

“You were upstairs for a while,” Mr. Lee said, smiling at you as Chan returned. “We were looking at all his awards,” you lied, looking up at Chan who smiled as he helped you into your coat before fumbling with his. “Your son is quite accomplished,” you added, noticing the way Chan’s cheeks burned and he tried to hide the pleased smile on his face.

Once his coat was on, he turned to his parents, explaining he was going to take you home and spend some more time with you. His mother and father bid you a goodnight, his mother pulling you into a hug and inviting you to come back for their New Years party. You might just take them up on that offer.

As you and Chan made for the door, his mother let out a squeal of delight, causing you to stop in your tracks and turn to look at her. Chan was also looking at his mother like she’d lost her mind. Her attention wasn’t on you however, it was directed to a spot just above your heads.

Looking up you noticed the mistletoe that hung above you. How had you not noticed that the stuff was hanging everywhere? In every doorway, from random places over hallways. Its placement must have been deliberate.

You glanced at Chan who looked from the holiday greenery to you, his expression blank for a moment before he shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, his lips pressing against yours.

You kissed him back, ignoring the way his mother reacted as if you two had just gotten married or something.

When Chan pulled back, he smirked at you. “Shall we?” He asked, nodding towards the door. You nodded in response. “And you’ll stay with me?” You asked, eyes looking between his own.

His smirk softened into a smile as he pressed a short kiss to your lips. “As long as you want me to,” he answered.

“If you want me to, I’ll stay the whole damn night, baby. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #lee chan #lee chan scenarios #lee chan imagines #lee chan fanfic #lee chan angst #lee chan fluff #lee chan smut #lee chan x reader #series: tales from camp holiday special

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dark-moonlust · 7 months ago

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Tentacle Trouble PART 1

Pairing: Tentacle monster x human f!reader

Summary: you decide to explore a cave that is surrounded by stories of a tentacle beast. You find exactly that, get pounded in all holes and bred.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, dub-con, dark monster smut, explicit tentacle smut, p in three holes, HEA. Don’t like, don’t read.

Find the series here.

The dimly lit cave echoed with the roar of the ocean.

You ventured deeper, drawn by the stories of the creature that dwelled within its depths.

You were determined to uncover the truth.

You didn’t expect to find a monster. These were baby tales.

But your were wrong. So very wrong.

The presence lurked and watched you and before you could escape, thick, slick tentacles trapped you. Your clothes were ripped and tossed away, slimy tentacles roaming your body, their weight keeping you a captive. You found yourself being lifted, suspended in the air while wriggling appendages wrapped around your wrists and ankles, keeping your limbs wide apart.

The creature emerged from the shadows, its body a huge round mass of tentacles, each one glistening with a strange slickness. A huge head, and at its core were three glowing eyes, deep blue, like the ocean sea. They seemed to reach into your soul.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, unable to believe your eyes. “I’m so fucking dead.”

A husky voice filled your mind, you realized it came from the monster. “No one shall hurt you, little human. You are here now, your life is mine, your little holes are mine,” it drawled. “I will mate and love you endlessly.”

“Fuck you, you perverted—”

“What a filthy mouth.” A sharp slap against your ass made you gasp in surprise. “Quiet, noisy human.”

You shrieked and moaned as he repeatedly slapped your ass, pausing a little to caress your sore bum before delivering more smacks. No matter how much you wiggled and screamed, you couldn’t be set free. The slimes moved on to slap you pussy, finding it delightfully slick and plump.

You thrashed at each blow, the slaps were light but awakened a strange pleasure inside you.

You hated your treacherous body.

The monster didn’t seem pleased with your thrashing so he pushed one thick tentacle into your parted mouth. It plunged down your throat, stretching your lips and causing you to gag. Moist suckling noises resounded as it fucked your throat, thrusting back and forth until you no longer fought the creature back.

Gluck… gluck… gluck… gluck.

The cave echoed with your lewd slurping sounds as you were forced to swallow the sweet nectarine liquid dripping from his tentacle. Each drop aroused you, invading your system and intoxicating it with desire. In seconds, you were soft and pliant, more than eager to let him have his way with you.

“That’s more like it,” you heard his voice in your mind. “Beautiful human. My little mate.”

“What—hmm,” you gulped down more liquid, “is it?”

The monster’s voice rumbled through you. “That, my little one, is my elixir. It shall make you immortal and prepare your body for me. It is an elixir that only I, the master of these depths, can produce.”

You struggled to speak, a shiver running down your spine. Immortal elixir? It terrified and intrigued you. You looked into the creature’s eyes, asking for answers.

“Only my mate is deserving of my elixir. Now hush, do not fear.”

More tentacles came out of his body, of various shapes and lengths. They travelled over your flesh, leaving trails of slickness wherever they touched. It made your shiver. One tentacle slithered up your inner thigh, brushing around your pussy before slipping inside your depths. Shivers of pleasure ran through you as it fucked you while another slithery appendage rubbed your clit round and round.

Two more tentacles snaked over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to expose your pouting rosebud. You squirmed and cried out around the tentacle fucking your mouth when the pulsating appendages slipped past the tight entrance of your asshole. The fit was tight but the tentacles were incredibly slick. Slowly, oh so slowly, they filled you up, inch by inch, until they were buried deep in your guts.

“Mnn…mnhaa!" You breathed through your nose at the way you felt, all holes filled.

When the tentacles started to thrust, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The tentacles were all over and yet, you felt no pain, just blinding pleasure. You willingly surrendered to the feral ravishmest. The cave filled with the symphony of your high-pitched cries and the furious plap-plap of tentacles filling your body.

The creature’s rhythm grew faster, the tentacles working in perfect harmony.

By now, you had two tentacles buried in your cunt and three more crawling up your ass. The one fucking your throat hadn’t receded and kept feeding you its delectable elixir.

The insistent fucking brought you to a shattering climax. Your body tensed and you cried out around the thrusting appendage in your lips as waves and waves of pleasure crashed over you.

The creature didn’t stop its pounding.

Your voice continued to echo through the cavern. The slimes in your ass pistoned fast and hard but the ones in your pussy stopped and pressed against the entrance to your womb. You tensed, the pressure causing you to wince. You felt a soft pop, followed by the heavy weight of eggs. One by one you felt them as they were deposited deep inside you.

“Ugh .. ungh—" you whimpered and came hard, the walls of your cunt contracting around the ovipositor. Your whole body spasmed as the creature bred you and made you its mate.

It felt like hours later when the slimes exited your holes. The intensity subsided, but your belly was bulging with his brood. The creature gently lowered you to the ground, its tentacles wrapping protectively around you. You lay there, spent and satisfied, your mind reeling from the unbelievable experience.

The creature’s glowing eyes regarded you with a strange, almost tender curiosity. “You did well, my mate. Took six of my eggs on the first try. I am proud of you. Sleep now, little one. I will take care of you. Forever.”

And you did, your eyes shutting as you let go in his embrace. You had found what you needed, a new world of pleasure and otherworldly love.

#tentacles x you #tentacles x female reader #tentacles x human #tentacles x reader #tentacles smut #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x female #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x human #monster smut #monster x female reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster fuqqer #monster fudger

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ybklix · 8 months ago

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𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

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