#to the point where we can feel the guest bed Vibrate. it's not fun

[euclydya]

see as Much as I'd like to take a nap right now. I don't think we can do that

[frostedfaves]

Just Like Magic

Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Yelena invites her new best friend to hang out and ends up having to share. (Combined requests from @emilyprentissslut and anon)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!milf!wandanat with younger (21+) reader, dom/sub dynamics and mommy kink, a bit of manipulation/coercion, smut: oral, penetration, bondage, slight edging, nipple sucking

A/N: this took forever to write and I was going to post it where I last left off, but as long as I took with this, I wanted it to have somewhat of a proper ending. although I did leave off in a way that I could add onto this if I decide to later! anyway, can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

-

“You finally made it.”

The blonde girl offers you a sarcastic smile as you pass her on the threshold, your eyes wandering for a moment while she locks the door behind you.

“I told you that I couldn’t come over until 2.”

“As if you have anything more interesting going on.”

Yelena grabs your arm and leads you into the kitchen, giving you a playful shove toward the island as she continues to the refrigerator. You hop onto one of the stools, placing your bag on the floor beside you just in time to catch the bottle of water tossed directly at your face.

“I see your reflexes are still working,” she teases as another voice cuts in.

“That’s no way to treat your guests, Lena.”

The taunting grin on your best friend’s lips shifts to a scowl as two women come into view. Their eyes seem to be glued to your form, one pair holding a welcoming gaze and the other an air of indifference. Yelena gives them your name and identifies the pair as Natasha and Wanda, and Natasha steps closer to you with her hand outstretched.

“Don’t listen to our little dorogoya.” Natasha nods toward the younger blonde with a teasing smirk. “We’re her mothers.”

“That’s not technically true,” Wanda clarifies over Yelena’s incoming protests. “We do love her like we created her ourselves--”

“But mentors would be a more accurate ‘M’ word,” Yelena adds, pushing past the pair to grab your bag from the floor. “Let’s go before they say something else that makes me gag.”

“It was nice meeting you!”

Your words are rushed as you scramble out of the kitchen, trying to avoid staring at Natasha while she subtly unzips her hoodie. Her hand releases the zipper once you’re out of sight, but Wanda grabs it to finish the job.

“You’re a tease,” she comments while raising her tank top, and Natasha places her hands on her cheeks with a smile.

“Tell me what she’s thinking.”

“She’s definitely interested, but she needs more.” Wanda lowers her head and touches her lips to one of Natasha’s exposed nipples. “I think I need more, too.”

Natasha bites her lip and threads her fingers through her lover’s hair to pull her flush against her chest.

“Then take it.”

-

“Wait!” you call out before Yelena can throw the ball again. “Where's the bathroom? I have to pee.”

“You Americans and your weak bladders.” She rolls her eyes playfully as she plops on the ground to take a seat. “It’s the last door on the left.”

You enter the house again through the sliding door of the kitchen, passing through the room to the hallway. The bathroom is easy to locate and you’re in and out pretty quickly, but soft musical notes floating through the crack of a door stop you before you can make your way back outside. Opening the door further reveals a staircase heading toward what you assume is the basement, and before you have time to form doubts, you find yourself descending.

The music guides you to another cracked door, and you freeze in your movements when you notice Natasha and Wanda in the far corner of the room. Making sure you’re still out of sight, you take a look around the parts of the room you can see from the doorway, and it doesn’t take long to figure out what the space is for. There are various ropes, chains and ball gags hanging along the walls, and shelves hold harnesses, vibrators and dildos of all sizes.

“Flavored lube?” Wanda eyes the bottle curiously as she takes it from Natasha.

“Yeah, I figured it would be fun to try.”

“As if you don’t taste amazing enough on your own,” Wanda places her hand on Natasha’s chest, causing her to chuckle.

“It’s not for us, love.” Natasha raises her brow, and her wife seems to have a look of realization.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind a little help getting this inside of her.”

You nearly give away your position with a gasp when the red haired woman holds up a harness with a protruding length that seems almost as big as her forearm. Deciding you’ve seen way more than you were meant to, you head back upstairs as quickly and silently as you can, trying your best to ignore your wandering thoughts as you join Yelena again.

“What took you so long?” she scowls as she jumps to her feet again. “You were staring at that ugly painting on the wall, weren’t you?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” you argue, turning your back to grab your water and give yourself extra time to catch your breath.

“If you keep chugging that, you’ll have to pee again.” You hear her laugh before you feel the ball lightly hit your back. “But I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You had yet to discover if she was right or not.

-

“Dinner was amazing. Thank you, Miss Maximoff,” you address Wanda as she collects everyone’s plates, not quite meeting hers or Natasha’s eyes until she stops in front of you.

“You can call me Wanda, honey. I don’t mind at all.” She offers you a sweet smile before looking past you toward Yelena. “Lena, do you mind helping me clean up? I need to show you something anyway.”

Yelena opens her mouth, fully prepared to make a comment about Wanda being able to handle the whole house with a simple flick of her wrist but a pointed look from Natasha stops her.

“Sure.”

You watch her grab everyone’s glasses and follow Wanda into the kitchen, and you release a quiet yelp when you feel Natasha grab your chin a moment later. Your eyes widen when you realize just how quickly she traveled to your side of the table from her chair, and you feel nerves settling in as her eyes study your form.

“You’re a gorgeous little thing, aren’t you?” 

The longer you stare at her, the calmer you feel as the desire to push her away leaves your body. She moves her thumb and presses against your lips forcefully until you part them, her smile widening as she begins rubbing along your tongue and your lips close around her.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me. Do you think you can behave like this for Wanda, too?”

“I would hope so.” Wanda’s voice fills the room again as she reenters, placing one hand on your neck as she lightly kisses the other side, just below your ear. “You wouldn’t want to be punished before you’ve even had a chance to be rewarded, would you?”

“No, Wanda,” you answer the best you can around Natasha’s thumb, and her grip on your neck tightens.

“You call us Mommy now.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Perfect, printsessa,” Natasha praises as she pulls her hand away, Wanda also stepping back as she pulls you to your feet. “Now why don’t you lead us downstairs? I believe you already know where to go.”

“You knew I was there?” you ask timidly and Wanda laughs.

“Why do you think you went down there in the first place?”

Natasha grabs your shoulders and turns you around, giving you a light shove toward the hallway. You cautiously lead the two women toward the basement door, glancing into the kitchen and feeling a knot growing in your stomach when you don’t see Yelena at all.

The door is locked behind you once you reach the intimidating room again, and you’re pushed onto a bed before each woman grabs one of your hands and chains you to the wall. Wanda straddles you and kisses you eagerly, moving her hips to grind her covered pussy against yours. Vibrations pass between the two of you as you moan into each other’s mouths until she pulls away and stands on the mattress to take off her panties.

“You think you can make Mommy cum like this?” She challenges while lifting her dress and lowering herself to sit on your face, a quiet moan escaping when you press your tongue against her clit in response. “Good fucking girl.”

“What about while your other Mommy fucks you?”

You can feel Natasha removing your pants and underwear, bending your legs at the knee as she joins the two of you on the bed and hooks her arms around them. You can already feel yourself clenching a bit in preparation for what you know is coming, and a muffled moan escapes you when she runs the tip of her tongue along your folds.

“What does she taste like?” Wanda cries out to her lover while you suck on her clit desperately, and Natasha pulls away just long enough to answer.

“Like she was worth waiting five months for.”

Wanda continues to ride your face, forcing herself to keep going past her orgasm while Natasha teases you relentlessly with her tongue. Just when you think she might let you cum, she pulls away abruptly, leaving you whining into Wanda’s pussy and grinding against nothing.

“Patience, printessa,” she scolds you from across the room. “You don’t get to have things simply because you want them.”

You jump and let out a sound that’s a cross between a yelp and a moan when her hand smacks your sensitive clit, gasping when the slap is followed by the head of a dildo running through your folds toward your entrance. Bucking your hips toward it causes it to slip inside you a bit, and Natasha groans at the sight.

“Look at my pretty pussy so eager to take me.”

She takes her time easing half of the length into you as you clench around it occasionally, thrusting gently for a bit and then roughly pounding her way in until her hips are nearly meeting yours with every powerful stroke. If Wanda wasn’t keeping you muffled, you’d be screaming right now. From pain or pleasure, you couldn’t tell the difference anymore, you just knew something inside you felt amazing.

“Whatever you’re doing to her, Tash, please don’t stop,” Wanda calls over her shoulder through gritted teeth in between groans. “She’s fucking killing me right now in the best way possible.”

“Don’t worry...” Natasha roughly tugs your waist to bring you closer and Wanda scrambles to balance herself on the mattress as she continues to ride your face. “You know I don’t plan on letting her go anytime soon.”

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

ONE BOTTLE TO BLAME

Prompt: Requested, by the lovely @jazzy-bella02 (I’m sorry this took me so long to post it, but I hope you’ll like it and thank you so much for being patient with me, honey 😘)

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, dom x sub dynamic, oral sex (male and female receiving / 69), dirty talk, name calling (aka degradation), kinda fluff (at the end), slight angst, breath play (asphyxiation kink)

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @marlananicole , @bellalutionn , @sassymox , @yungbludjazz360

Notes: I just want to put this out there (before it turns into a fucking commotion): I have NOTHING against Renee , ok? I think she’s pretty awesome tbh and this is for plot purposes only! Please be reminded that this is a FICTIONAL STORY, not real life!(*This is only addressed to those who aren’t mature enough to understand that difference). If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😉

“Alright, Y/N it’s your turn” Darby said

“Again?” I whined

“C’mon, don’t be such a party pooper! Pretty please?” He begged, dramatically batting his lashes

I spun the bottle and to my surprise it landed on landed on Jon Moxley, the man I desperately had a crush on, but refused to admit it out loud

“I don’t want to play this anymore, thanks” I mumbled

“Don’t be so childish, Y/N. What’s the worst thing he can do?” Darby laughed, looking at Mox who smiled back

“She said she doesn't want to” Renee stated bitterly

“Leave her alone, she will play” Mox said to her as he looked at me

“That’s my man!” Darby patted his back “So, Y/N, what do you choose: the kiss or the question?” He asked

“The question” *I’ll be damned if I ever choose the first option* I thought bitterly

“Mox, go ahead” Darby grinned

“Hmm” Jon pretended to debate what to ask “Who in this circle would you really want to kiss, and why?” He smirked

*How does he know?* I thought to myself- and then while looking at Darby, realization hit me. I could see the fucker trying to hide a smile behind his cup. *Darby told him! Ooh I’m gonna kill you Darby!*

“I - ummm...Darby” I said quickly

“Darby?” Mox looked at me in disbelief, and I nodded

“Why?” He teased

“Because...I think he’s cute” I lied, oh so poorly

“Right” He chuckled “Of course you do”

“Alright Mox, it’s your turn” Darby cackled

Jon spun the bottle and to our surprise it landed on me, again!

*Oh God, this must be a joke* I thought

“What’s your choice: question or kiss?” The blonde man asked him

“Kiss” Those piercing blue eyes stared at me

“I don’t think this is fair, she just answered your question! Jon, spin the bottle again, please” Renee said

“He can’t do that! It stopped on Y/N, so she and Jon will play. It’s their turn” Darby spat

“It’s not fair-”

“Why? Because it didn’t stop on you?” Mox scoffed

She shot him a look that well, if looks could kill, he’d be a pile of ash, before saying “You’re not going to kiss her”

“Oh really?” He chuckled “And who’s gonna stop me? You? Please, Renee, don’t make me laugh”

“You have no right-” She began

“YOU have no right! We’re not together anymore, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want and that’s none of your damn business! What the fuck are you even doing here anyways? I didn’t invite you, Y/N didn’t invite you, nobody on this roster invited you. Just fuck off!”

“Don’t talk to me like that” She pretended to be upset

“Don’t fucking try me then!” He replied, almost screaming at this point

Renee stood up and quickly made her exit out the front door, with a heavy silence settling in as she left.

“So, where were we?” Jon suddenly asked “Oh yeah! My kiss” He looked at me and grinned

Darby laughed “C’mon Y/N, you know the rules”

Rolling my eyes I crawled towards him, and when I was close enough, he whispered quietly so only I could hear

“Yes baby, crawl to me”

Noticing my nervousness, he pointed to his cheek and I felt so relieved that I wouldn’t have to kiss him in front of everyone

I leaned forward to his cheek, and once I was close enough, he turned his head around and connected our lips in a loud smooch

I had never felt a greater urge to bury my face in the sand like I did in that moment.

“Hmmm, vanilla?” He asked, clearly referring to my chapstick flavor

“I like the taste, kitten” He said, licking his lips

And so the game went on, every time the cursed bottle landed on Jon and I he asked me questions that got more personal (or invasive) each time: ‘What was my favorite sex position?’, ‘The craziest place I’ve ever had sex?’, ‘Did I own a vibrator?’, ‘How often did I use it?’, ‘Did I like it rough?’, ‘Have I ever tried BDSM?’, ‘Was I a sub?’.

And before he could ask me any more questions, I leaned towards Darby and said I was going to one of his guest bedrooms. When he asked why, I simply lied, saying I wasn’t feeling very well. He nodded and I finally left that damned room and stupid game, leaving Jon Moxley behind me…

Or at least I thought so!

When I opened the guest bedroom door, there he was, sitting down at the foot of the bed, smirking at me

“Thought you could run away from me, little mouse?” He chuckled at my surprised face

“Unfortunately for you, it’s not that easy to fool me, sweetheart” He took slow, predatory steps towards me “You didn’t answer my last question, doll” He pushed my body against the door, making it close, he then proceeded to lock it as well

“What question?”

“Are you a sub?” He whispered to me

I gulped “I-I enjoy power play”

Jon smiled widely “I thought so” He leaned forward, deeply inhaling the bamboo scent of my conditioner “Everything about you screams submissive, the essence practically radiates from your soul” He looked into my eyes

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I shook my head

“Sex partner?” I shook my head once more

“Do you have a Dom, kitty kat?” He asked, softly running his fingers through my hair

“No” I panted

“Do you want one?” He smirked

“Yes, please, sir?”

Jon grinned, and the soft motions from his fingers were quickly replaced by a forceful grip

“You wanna have some fun, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir”

“You gonna be my good little slut?”

“Yes, sir”

“Gonna make my cock feel real good?”

“Yes, sir”

“Is that pussy going to belong to me when we’re done?”

“All yours, sir”

He smiled “Are you going to be my favorite whore of all time?”

“I hope so, sir”

One of his hands quickly wrapped around my neck, applying just enough pressure to make me feel slightly lightheaded

“Does this pretty little slut know how to suck a cock?”

I nodded

“Let’s see about that” He smirked “Take your clothes off”

When we were both naked, Jon laid down on the bed

“Come here, kitten” He cooed “Sit on my face and show me how good that mouth of yours can be”

I obliged and as soon as my core was close enough to his face, he wasted no time in devouring me

It all felt so good that I needed something in my mouth, to muffle my loud moans, so I leaned forward and began to suck him off. Thanks to the position I was in, I had the advantage of sliding him further down, without having to worry about my gag reflex.

Jon moaned around my clit, as he put two fingers in. The vibrations his humming was causing me were heavenly

“Fuck, feels so fucking good!” He said and slapped my ass “Y/N, I’m going to need you to cum right now” He said, slightly out of breath

“Yes, sir” I answered, with a string of spit still connecting me to his cock’s head

His sucking became harder and the pace of his fingers became rougher, and before I could realize it, my walls were pulsing around his fingers.

When I was down from my high, Jon quickly pinned me down on the mattress and placed himself behind me

“You sure can suck a dick” He chuckled on my ear “But how well can you take a cock, kitty cat?”

“Very well, sir”

“Oh” He laughed “That’s bold! I have high expectations now! You’re not going to disappoint me, are you Y/N?”

“No, sir”

“You better not” He teased, as he slowly entered me

“So fucking wet” He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice

“Who made you this wet, baby?”

“You did, sir. You always do” I confessed

“Always? So you had thought about this before?”

“Every night, sir”

“And what do you do when those thoughts come to your mind, Y/N?” He increased his pace

“I touch myself and think about you, sir”

Jon growled “I would like to see that! Do you use your vibrator?”

“Yes, sir”

“Does it make you feel good, kitten?” He whispered

“Not as good as you do, sir”

“Great answer, sweetheart” He cackled

Placing his forearm on the back of my neck to keep me in place, Jon’s thrusting pace became almost too rough, but I was loving every second of it

“My good little whore loves cock, doesn’t she?”

I answered a muffled ‘yes, sir’

“Of course she does! Look how well she’s taking me”

“Am I stretching you good enough, baby?”

“Yes, sir”

“You’re gonna cum for me?” He asked, when he felt my walls my walls clenching tighter around him

I only moaned in response

“Cum, Y/N. Right now!”

My body followed his order, releasing it all over his length

Jon quickly pulled out, and his hot cum landed on my ass

He cleaned both of us up with a warm damp towel. Laying down by my side, he pulled me up until my head rested on his chest. That was when he placed one finger underneath my chin and tilted my head up, so he could kiss my lips in such a sweet and delicate way that made me giggle softly

“What?” He asked, with a sweet smile on his lips

“I’m sorry, the switch in you made me giggle” I laughed softly

“What change?”

“You just kissed me so softly, but were fucking me mercilessly and calling me a good little slut mere minutes before that”

“I can be soft too, you know?” He blushed a little

“Awww, you’re so sweet” I pecked his lips “But I love the rough you as well, don’t worry” I winked

“Good, because I’m a man of my word and” He shifted on the bed so he could lay down on his side “That pussy is now mine...all mine!” He growled, in a teasing way

“Yes, sir” I joked

“Wanna grab some burgers when we wake up?” He asked, pulling me closer to him and resting his forehead on mine

“I’d love to”

I smiled, falling asleep minutes after Jon’s soft snoring sounds filled up the bedroom...

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[starbornvalkyrie]

the gift [an elucien one shot]

a/n: hellooooo friends. this lil number here was born of a morning discussion about pegging with @vanserrasvalkyrie​ @oversizedbats​ @vmiae​ @ladyvanserra​ @illyrianvalkyrie​ @booksandlewks​ @arielle-reads​ and @nina-zcnik​. you know, normal things. don’t worry, there are no acosf spoilers! this is pure filth, so i hope y’all like it lol enjoy!

content warning: hella explicit sexual content. obviously.

Celebrating Winter Solstice at Feyre and Rhysand’s riverside estate has been tradition for as long as Elain could remember. Ever since it was built, they celebrated here. Even after she officially moved to the Spring Court with Lucien on the other side of Prythian, she still came back to celebrate with her sisters and their growing families.

It was hard at first, being so far away from them. She missed them terribly, but at least she knew she could see them whenever she wanted. She’s been so happy being close to her sisters again, especially knowing that they’ll have centuries to grow together.

These last few weeks, however, didn’t leave her with much time to miss them. Ever since her mating ceremony to Lucien, they haven’t spent much time outside their manor, let alone their bedroom. Almost a month later, and Elain is still itching for gifts to be exchanged and dinner to be eaten, so that she can take her mate to bed. 

From where she sat alone on the bay window, Elain felt a tug on the bond deep in her heart, and immediately sought her mate out in the crowded sitting room of Feyre’s home. He had just moved to the bar cart to refill his drink, a reprieve from whatever conversation he had been having with Cassian about the latest Illyrian training regiment. Elain rarely knew a word coming from the Illyrian’s mouth. Most of the time she only smiles and nods until she’s able to step away politely. A quick scan of the room showed her that Cassian had returned to Nesta’s side.

Returning her attention to Lucien, her blush deepened when she caught his eye, a knowing smirk gracing his lips. He knows what she has been fantasizing about from the moment they left the comfort of their bed in the guest wing. She merely cocked her head to the side. The picture of feigned innocence. Lucien narrowed his eyes as though to say, Challenge accepted. He crossed his arms and brought a hand to his chin. An innocent gesture until he flicked his tongue against the pad of his thumb, pretending to wipe something away from his bottom lip.

Elain almost regretted forgoing her undergarments as she clenched her crossed legs tighter, knowing the action is futile in the presence of High Fae and skilled soldiers, but either her family is far too drunk already or have chosen to ignore the scent she’s sure to be releasing. No matter, she supposed. They all deserved it for their own newly-mated episodes. Elain felt Lucien’s chuckle and turned to glare at him before Mor exclaimed, “Rhys! Presents! Now!” Elain laughed as Rhysand rolled her eyes, grateful for the distraction from her own arousal.

With a wave of his hand, the presents appeared before the roaring fireplace. One by one, they were distributed, and Elain watched with a smile on her face. She was watching Nyx play with his new training dagger from Azriel when a present and a card appeared on her lap. She knew without looking up that it was her mate in front of her.

“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts until later,” she accused, cheeks reddening once again as she remembered what they had promised.

Lucien sat down and effortlessly pulled her sideways onto his lap. “It’s not from me. It’s from my… father.” Elain looked into his russet eye, finding the emotion within that came from acknowledging Helion as his father. She cupped a hand to his face and gave him a quick kiss, just because she could. “I’m not sure where he ran off to, but he told me we need to open it together.” Needing no further explanation, Elain tore into the white and gold wrapping paper, as Lucien read the card to her. “For fun,” was all it said.

Together, they lifted the lid of the box. Elain gasped and Lucien choked as they beheld a variety of gadgets to use in the bedroom to play. There was every toy Elain could think of, but her attention snagged on one particular device. Her eyes traveled along the straps and buckles until they reached the attached appendage. She looked at her mate, his metal eye whirring. No doubt he knew exactly what she was thinking before she had to say it. “Can I…” She swallowed, her voice thick with arousal. “Would you be okay with this?”

Lucien licked his lips and whispered, “Do your worst, Flower.” Elain exhaled through her nostrils, imagining her mate on his knees in front of her, his face buried in the pillows and silks of their bed. She bit her lip and involuntarily rocked her hips on his hardening length. Lucien hissed and gripped her tighter by the waist. “We still need to eat dinner, my love.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear, “But my Solstice present to you is letting you do whatever you want to me tonight.”

Elain shot up from his lap, leaving him laughing behind her. She sought out Nuala and Cerridwen to see if they needed help completing dinner. They told her it would only be a few moments, but she helped them anyway.

Dinner was the usual, Nyx throwing food at his Uncle Cassian, Nesta scolding Cassian for throwing food back. Amren ignoring Mor’s bargain for her jewelry. Feyre and Rhys talking mind to mind as though they think no one knows they’re actually fucking in there at inappropriate times. Like at the dinner table. But Elain didn’t care because she kept stealing glances at Lucien, her mate staring at her right back.

As soon as they were done eating, Elain bid a quick farewell, pulling Lucien behind her. She ignored the cheering that came from Rhysand and Cassian. She was beyond caring at this point. That primal need to take her mate wherever and whenever was still strong. When they reached their room on the far end of the estate, Elain wasted no time pushing her mate against the door and claiming his mouth with hers.

Lucien’s gift to her was for her to take charge, and that was exactly what she planned to do. She reached between them to his belt, pulling it free without breaking the connection of their lips. She palmed him through his trousers, eliciting a groan from both of them. He was already hard, already ready for her.

Next came the buttons of his shirt. Elain began at the top, trailing kisses down his neck, lingering on the wild pulse beneath his skin. With each pop of a button, her lips moved lower and lower. She traced her tongue along the ridges of his chiseled abs. Elain straightened and removed his shirt before pulling him towards the bed.

The bed was already equipped with leather straps tied to the headboard, set up earlier when she excused herself to freshen up. Lucien looked from the bed to Elain, eyes wide with confusion--and need. Elain only pushed him to lay down on the bed and said, “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

Once he was settled in the center of the bed, Elain straddled him, hissing as her bare center made contact with his chiseled abdomen, her dress pooling around her. As she made quick work of the straps around his wrists, Lucien growled, “Were you not wearing underwear all night, Elain?” He growled as she nodded in confirmation. “Take off your dress, love,” he commanded.

But Elain wasn't having that.

“Uh uh,” she tutted, lifting herself to her knees. “No talking.” She silenced him completely, gripping the headboard with one hand, her dress in the other so that she could sit on his face. Her mate didn’t hesitate, plunging his tongue deep into her molten core. Elain didn't bother suppressing her moans as he devoured her like a starved man. She rocked back and forth, the feel of his mouth on her igniting the fire in her veins.

Elain ground harder, chasing the release that was already so close after a night of teasing. Her mate must have known she was already on the precipice of falling because he sped up his ministrations.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, “Make me come, Lucien, I need to come.” He made a long swipe of his tongue from her ass to her clit, nipping at her sensitive nub with his teeth. The pain mixed with pleasure sent her crashing over the edge. She screamed through her release, but Lucien’s tongue never stopped helping her ride the wave.

Breathing heavy, she climbed down and kissed him deeply, groaning as she tasted herself on his lips. Already, she was wanting more, aching to be filled. She adjusted her hips until she felt his rock hard length against her entrance. Supporting herself with her arms, she stared down into her mate’s russet eye as she sank down, down, down, filling her completely with his cock. They both groaned in pleasure, the bond between them lit with the wanton need for each other.

Seeing his eye filled with molten desire only for her, Elain couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again as she moved her hips up and down, faster and faster. Every slip in and out of her molten channel elicited wanton noises from her throat. “Elain, fuck,” he breathed as she used her inner muscles to clench tight around his cock.

She sat up again, bracing herself with his hands on his solid chest. Despite his hands being tied, Lucien still bent his knees to pound up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. She cried out when he hit that particular spot that had never been hit before she found her mate. Without breaking rhythm, she finally shed her dress, throwing it haphazardly to the floor.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred, taking in every detail of her perfect, cream skin. Elain reached over to their new box of goodies and returned with a small device that vibrated in her hand. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she brought the toy to where they were still joined, still moving. She could hardly describe the sensation that came when the vibrations made contact with her clit, her screams filling the room as her body tensed with her release. “Elain!” Lucien roared as he followed her into the abyss, filling her with his seed. Lucien struggled against his bonds, squirming against Elain as she held that vibrating device between them until she could no longer handle it.

Elain collapsed next to Lucien, breathing hard and groaning at the emptiness she felt. “That was…” she trailed off.

“Amazing,” her mate finished for her, breathing just as heavily.

Elain propped herself up on an elbow and leaned forward to claim Lucien’s lips with her own. Through their kiss, she could feel all the love he felt for her and channeled it right back. His tongue demanded entrance and she happily obliged, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. They were a clash of tongues and teeth until Elain reached up and undid the straps restraining her mate.

But before he could grab her and pull her close like he so desperately wanted, she grabbed his wrists and whispered, “Did you think I was done with you already?” Without waiting for a response she climbed off the bed, commanding him to get on his hands on his knees. He raised his brow at her, but listened. He moved slowly, she noticed with no small amount of pleasure.

She felt powerful, taking what she wanted from him. They are equals in every way, including in their bed, but the feeling of being in control of each move has caused her to be aroused all over again. Elain reached for the box from Helion, feeling Lucien watching her as she lifted that contraption of straps and buckles. She made quick work of securing it to her waist before climbing behind her mate on the bed.

Using a tube of lubricant she found in the box, she lathered the rubber length, and then used her finger to tease Lucien’s rear end. He stiffened at first, but didn’t pull away as she inched the tip of her finger in. Lucien moaned, and Elain told him, “Let me know if this is too much, okay?” Lucien nodded and pushed back on her fingers. After pumping one in a few times, she added a second--and then a third. “Are you ready?” she asked, removing her fingers.

Lucien lifted up on his arms and looked over his shoulder at Elain as she lined himself up to his back entrance. She made eye contact with him, waiting for him to give permission. She may be in charge here, but she wasn’t going to go any farther if he didn’t want to.

But her mate, her wonderful, sexy mate said, “Fuck me, Elain.” And so she did.

Guiding herself in, she went slowly at first, stopping when Lucien dropped to his elbows when his ass snapped around the head of rubber. He was panting, so she stayed still, searing this image of her mate on his knees before her into her mind. After a few seconds, Lucien adjusted and pushed back, urging her on.

She pushed in more, more, more until she was buried all the way to the hilt in her mate’s fine ass. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Full,” he laughed, then moaned from the movement. “But… I think I like it.” He looked over his shoulder and repeated his words from before. “Do your worst, flower.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled out almost all the way and pushed back in, faster this time, again and again until she found a pounding rhythm. Her earlier vision came to life as Lucien yelled into the pillows, clenching the soft sheets in his fists.

Powerful--this was power. She gripped her mate’s hips and increased her speed, snapping her hips against his. Elain leaned forward and pressed kisses to his spine, the way he likes to do to her. In this position, she formed a wicked idea in her head and reached around his body. Finding his cock, unsurprised to discover it’s hard again, she worked him with her hand as she fucked him from behind.

Lucien’s screams intensified as he approached his impending orgasm. She grabbed a fistful of his red hair, forcing his back to bend. “Do you want to come, my love?” He grunted in response, but she said, “I need to hear you say it.”

Lucien turned his head to the side against her grip, panting, “Please, Elain. I need to come.” He locked eyes with her, his pupil dilated further than she’s ever seen. “Please.”

Satisfied, Elain cupped his balls and squeezed before stroking him again in time with her thrusts. In no time, she felt Lucien’s body seized beneath her, spilling his seed onto the sheets with a groan. She milked his cock with her hand until she was finished and pulled out, eliciting a strained moan from her mate. She let go of his hair so that he could until he could collapse on his stomach, careful to avoid the puddle of fluid left behind.

Quickly removing the strapped contraption, Elain joined her mate on the bed, happily falling into his outstretched arms. She peppered his face with kisses to coax him down from his high. Eventually, he opened his eyes, the metal whirring as his brain tried to function once more.

“Good?” she asked demurely.

“We’re doing that again,” he growled.

And two more times that night, they did. When they were finally satiated for the time being, Elain fell asleep in her mate’s arms as he whispered, “I love you,” against her hair.

---

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[ahkaahshi]

exploration [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, light degradation, dirty talk, mean-ish?? then nice dom sakusa, rough sex, orgasm denial, being stimulated in public, swearing

word count: 2.9k

overview: you wanna try new things. some of them work and some of them don’t, but it’s all a learning experience.

notes: yall my heart just went 🥺 soft sakusa 🥺 yet again (I'm rlly weak for him obviously I have no issue admitting it) but I wanted to give him a lil edge too ya feel? I rlly banged this out with my last two braincells so I hope you enjoy :)

As you wander around the large, open space in the elegant, modern art museum, heels clicking against the cold, concrete floor, your (e/c) eyes drift from one painting to the next. The steady, gentle rhythm of some, ethereal lounge music echoes around the room just under the hum of conversations taking place nearby. Though they’re speaking of things mostly foreign to you, since they’re members of a much higher society than that in which you live, you can’t help but find yourself somewhat entertained by the gossip you hear circulating amongst the women as they chat over a few too many cocktails.

Spending the evening perusing expensive artwork in such a luxurious venue, wearing a dress you hope looks fancy enough while you rub shoulders with the elite is definitely not a normal occasion in your day to day life. However, with your boyfriend’s constantly climbing popularity as a professional athlete, his name was starting to show up on more of the guest lists to exclusive events such as this exclusive art showcase you find yourself at now. While it’s interesting--to an extent--you do find yourself growing bored from time to time. Earlier, your beloved’s teammates had been around to entertain you, but they’d since left to help themselves to the open bar.

Not even moments after you let out a soft sigh and readjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, you feel a familiar vibration emanate from deep inside of you. The intensity and location of the sensation make one hand fly to your mouth to stifle a small squeal that escapes your throat while the other grips the chiffon of your dress’s skirt. Turning away from the few gazes that have fastened on you at your reaction to what seems like absolutely nothing, you look through the doorway into the next room to see your boyfriend watching you with rapt attention.

His hand is buried in the pocket of his sleek, black trousers, thumb resting atop the button of the remote he’s using to make the vibrator nestled inside of you jump to life. With the way he’s been using your desire to do more exploration in terms of kinks and sexual fantasies to keep you on the brink of an orgasm all night long, you’re starting to regret suggesting the idea of a bullet vibrator earlier today. By this point, your panties are uncomfortably wet and you’re on the verge of getting on your knees in front of the event’s other patrons and begging him to fuck you.

You’ve been holding yourself together the entire evening, even keeping your drink from spilling when he decided to turn it on right as the bartender handed it off to you, but you’ve had enough now. You figure you’ve been good enough for him to reward you, since you haven’t complained once or let on to the dirty game the two of you were playing to see who caved first and asked to go home. You don’t mind letting him win this round, since you know you’ll get what you want either way.

As nonchalantly as you can when your core is abuzz with stimulation and your stomach is clenching from the sensation, you make quick strides across the room to where he’s standing. He seems to sense what you’re about to ask him, so he turns off the vibrator and places his hand on the small of your back when you arrive at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine softly, running your fingertips along the soft material of his crisp, button-up shirt he’s wearing beneath a suit jacket.

He raises a dark eyebrow at you and hums questioningly in response, waiting for you to admit defeat.

As much as you don’t want to say it, in this case, you’ll have to put your pride aside to get what you want. Reminding yourself that you’ll find a way to have your fun with him in return at a later point in time gives you some comfort as you move your head closer to his ear.

“Can we go home, baby?” you ask in a demure tone.

“Hmm? Why would you want to do that, (f/n)?” he wonders, his hand remaining annoyingly still where it rests against the back of your dress.

You refrain from letting out a sound of disapproval at his coy attitude, since you know anything you say can and will be held against you in the bedroom in this game you’re playing. Instead, you whisper, “So you can take this tiny, little thing out of me and stuff me with your big cock instead.”

That does it. His fingers grip your waist on their way to meet yours so he can interlace them and lead you back to the entrance of the museum. His teammates urge him to stay and have a few drinks with them, but he’s quick to wave them off and make a hasty exit.

When Bokuto tries to follow the two of you to persuade you to stay, Atsumu grabs his arm and puts his attempt to a halt by hissing, “The man's on a mission ta get fucked, dude. Let ‘im go.”

To that, the tall, white and black-haired man whistles lowly, nods, and heads back to the bar with his teammate for another shot.

You and Sakusa are quick to locate his car, and he unlocks it with a chirp so you can both slide into your respective seats. Before fastening your seatbelt, you lean over towards him to steal a few, long-awaited kisses from his lips that he returns with fervor, giving you a glimpse of the impatience that had apparently been dwelling within him all night long. When you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, though, he’s quick to retreat from your affection and stick his key in the ignition.

“Omi,” you cry softly, brows furrowing and lower lip protruding with dismay. With the way your core is on fire at the moment, you want nothing more than for him to at least give you some relief in the car. The fifteen minutes it’ll take for you to get home are going to be painstaking at this rate.

His dark eyes flick over to you, narrowed ever so slightly with irritation as he responds, “Being a brat isn’t going to get you what you want.” The two of you lock eyes for a long moment in a silent battle for dominance before you relent, sit back, and buckle in your seatbelt. “Good girl.”

Your body warms at the praise, and grows even hotter when he slides his hand over onto your thigh after reversing out of the parking spot and shifting back into drive. His focus doesn’t leave the street ahead as his fingers find the slit in your skirt and navigate the short stretch of skin between its peak and your valley. Instinctively, you grasp his wrist to guide him closer to your underwear, but he stops.

“Don’t touch me while I'm driving, princess,” is the firm command he utters that makes you release your grip, “You’ll distract me.”

Your fingers dig into the smooth, leather seats as you try your best to restrain yourself, but each stoplight you hit makes you squeeze your thighs together with impatience, trapping his hand between your supple skin. Since he can see how desperate you are, he prods at your clit through your soaked panties, eliciting a gentle moan from you. With the way you've been waiting for him to touch you all night, anything you can get from him feels amazing.

Though he’s being silent, he’s trying his best to contain himself at hearing the pretty sounds slipping out of your mouth and feeling how wet you are. He didn’t realize quite how worked up you were until now.

“Baby, I want more,” you utter after no more than just a few, short minutes of toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He scoffs, “I’m not giving you more. Can't have my leather seats getting ruined by you making a mess when you cum, dirty girl.”

You clench around the slim vibrator at his words and groan when he withdraws his fingers from between your legs. Thankfully, you can see your neighborhood come into view, and he's parking outside your house before you know it. Anticipation sends another painful throb through your walls as you unbuckle your seatbelt, dart out of the car, and hurry towards the front door.

Sakusa seems to be in less of a rush, though, since he takes his time opening the door, removing his shoes, and loosening the tie around his throat. Your tugging at his arm to lead him towards the bedroom only earns you a warning glance, so you wait a few, painfully long seconds for him to finish what he’s doing. Your patience is quickly rewarded, though, when he guides you into the room, yanks down the zipper on your dress, and pushes you onto the bed.

His lips crash against yours as you sling your arms over his shoulders to bring his body down towards yours. Each of his kisses are deep, passionate, and add more fuel to the fire that’s been burning between your legs. Feeling needier than ever, you hastily undo the buttons on his shirt while he unclasps your bra and rids you of your panties in a flash. He swallows the loud moan you release when his fingers slide into your weeping pussy to retrieve the vibrator that’s been lodged inside of you the entire night.

Your hips buck against his fingers as they slide out of you, removing the small device and tossing it aside, so he allows you a sliver of relief by rubbing his fingers coated in your essence against your clit. He watches your expressions of pleasure and the way your muscles twitch as you chase the high you’ve been after all night. The sight of you with your face flushed and eyelids squeezed shut as your lips part to utter more delightful sounds of pleasure makes his erection throb painfully in his pants.

“You poor thing,” he coos, removing his fingers from between your legs, “So desperate to get fucked. Take my pants off and I'll let you cum on my cock since you’ve been a good girl all night, but not until I say so.”

In your hazy state of mind, you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and set to work undoing his pants. He slides his shirt off before discarding his trousers and littering your neck with more kisses as he slowly inches closer to you. You exhale breathily when you feel him slide the head of his dick from your clit down to your entrance, teasing you by remaining just outside.

“Kiyoomi!” you complain in a moment of sexual frustration, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

To this he responds harshly, “Quit whining like a little brat or else I'll fuck your mouth instead so I don’t have to listen to you.”

He sees a look of shock pass over your features like a dark storm cloud drifting in front of the sun, and he worries for an instant that he’s overstepped a boundary. But, to his relief, you rest your head back against the soft covers and breathe, “I'm sorry, baby.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises in a much gentler tone and places a peck against your sternum before lifting your hips up towards his.

A drawn-out moan spills out of your mouth as he pushes his cock inside of you, giving you the sensation of being full that you’ve so desperately been craving all evening. His gaze remains on yours, and you watch the subtle crinkle of his nose and twitch of the moles above his eyebrow that always accompany a low groan of satisfaction during moments like these. After he’s bottomed out, he allows you a moment to breathe before he begins thrusting into you rather roughly.

Any words you want to say you’re unable to form as he indulges your tight pussy, spreading your legs further with his hand so he can reach deeper and deeper inside you with each snap of his hips against yours. “Well?” he goads, his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear when he moves his head there so he can latch onto your tender skin with his teeth, “Let me hear you, baby. Now.”

You mewl loudly at the sensation of him sucking on your neck in combination with his cock hitting your cervix, sending small jolts of pleasure skittering across your skin like electricity. “Faster, please!” you manage to squeak as your hands move onto his back, fingertips pressing into his muscles, which ripple with every thrust inside of you. His skin feels unbearably hot against yours, causing beads of sweat to form on your bodies.

He obliges your request and picks up his pace until all you’re able to do is let your head roll back and moan unintelligible words while he attacks the sensitive skin on your throat. Every grunt he utters sends tingles down your spine, and you can hear his breathing become more labored whenever he starts succumbing to the satisfaction he’s reaping from being sheathed in your velvety walls while they clench deliciously around him.

Following a particularly rough thrust that nearly has you seeing stars, he mentions, “You were being so expressive about your desires earlier, princess, but you can’t even speak now? Nothing shuts you up quite like having my cock deep in your pussy, huh?” You nod in agreement, since you’re not able to form any coherent words as you rock your body against his.

After a few minutes, you feel the pressure you’ve been holding in your stomach all night long threaten to loosen up, and you whimper, since you’re right on the edge of the orgasm you’ve been waiting too long to experience. Sakusa notices the anguish etched into your features when he takes a pause from decorating your neck with love bites, and rubs your clit with precise movements, targeting your most sensitive spot.

“Cum for me like the good girl you are, princess.”

His husky command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out with ecstasy as you pull him closer to you and buck your hips against him feverishly. The feeling of your pussy pulsating around him bring him to his orgasm faster than expected, and a stream of curse words and praises fall from his mouth onto your ears. He knows you’re on birth control, so he finishes while nestled deep within your core, painting your walls with his release.

The sensation isn't one you’re used to feeling, since he often opts to pull out anyway, but you enjoy coming down from your high while he’s still inside you. Feeling that you’re still connected in the vulnerable moments that follow your sex sessions brings you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Once you’ve had some time to regain your breath, he withdraws from you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. “How was that?” he asks as he lays down beside you and grabs a few tissues to clean up the fluids seeping out of you, onto the duvet.

“Great,” you hum softly, “I enjoyed it. How did it feel for you?”

A look of concern crosses his features as he discards the used tissues in a nearby trashcan. When he turns back to face you, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes and comments, “I’d prefer not to treat you like that.”

“Baby, I know how much you care about me. You’re not hurting my feelings; it’s just roleplaying.” A short pause in your conversation ensues as he contemplates your words while you run your fingers along his neck and jaw. “Would you be open to trying it again, maybe, or was it just not for you?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable speaking to you in that way. I didn’t like calling you a dirty girl or saying that I was gonna fuck your mouth. Seeing your face when I said that nearly made me stop.”

Upon noticing the uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze, you gently coax him to bring his face closer to yours by lightly pressing your fingers against the back of his neck. You then close the gap between your lips once more with a long kiss that you hope communicates to him at least a sliver of the immense amount of love you have for him. His hand cups the side of your face when you pull away, making you smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t do it again if it makes you uncomfortable,” you reassure him, “But will you call me a good girl and take control like that more often? I think I enjoyed that part the most.”

He nods, sending a ripple through the dark sea of waves atop his head, and presses another kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” you utter when he pulls away.

“I love you too, (f/n). Let’s go in the shower now.”

You let out a low murmur of disagreement and pull him closer to you so that his warm body's hovering over yours once more. Giving him a playful tug on his lower lip with your teeth, you mention, “You made me wait too long tonight for one time to be enough, baby.”

masterlist

dedications: this work is dedicated to the lovely @ohbyunhunn​ :) I hope you enjoy since you were havin a rough day ❤️ thanks for listening to all my whack ideas n supporting me anyway bb 😌

[btsmutimagines]

Our Future

Look, I suck at titles, y’all and I’m a day late ffs but happy birthday Kookie 

Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.5K (I really need to stop)

Grey skies arched above you as you walked home, kicking a small pebble along with you until it got caught between a crack in the sidewalk.

You audibly sigh, enjoying yourself as you kicked it further and further each time. It was almost like you were that pebble, your life seeming to be pushed by something until it stops.

You were stuck, just like your little pebble.

You finally reached your house, unlocking the front door and noticing the familiar shoes. They were shined up and as uninvited as usual but their owner paid no mind to what you thought, clearly.

The back of your father’s head greeted you as you stepped into the living room and he put down the newspaper he was reading.

You brace yourself, knowing he came to talk to you about something. He never really looked for a conversation, just a breathing punching bag.

“Hello, father.”

“I expected you to be home sooner.”

“I hadn’t expected any guests.”

“Maybe if you answered my phone calls once in a while.”

“You don’t pick up when I call back.”

“I’ve been busy, Y/N.” When are you not? You silently retorted in your mind.

“What did you need to say, father?”

“I’d like you to come to dinner with me tomorrow night.”

“I rather not.”

“Tell me why? Is there something unpleasant about a father and daughter enjoying a nice dinner together?”

“When have we ever done anything ‘nice’, father?” He cocked an eyebrow, he knew damn well that your relationship was far from any loving familial ties.

If you had it your way, he won’t ever know where to find you.

“The Blanche, seven o’clock. I’ll have Hyunjin pick you up.” He adjusted his tie, standing up to walk away and you clenched your fists.

You wanted to yell, at least tell him off for coming over uninvited to force you into some weird dinner. But you merely stood as he brushed past you, you standing in your spot until you heard your front door shut.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ─── 

This morning, you found a box with a card attached in front of your door.

You could tell from the intricate design on the card, it was from your father. Inside was a gorgeous red dress, the off-shoulder design along with the leg slit satisfying your tastes.

You held up the dress, looking in the full-length mirror and imagining yourself in it.

“As if he would know what I liked.” You scoffed to yourself, pulling the dress back on your bed. He probably just sent off one of his servants to find something for you.

Even so, what would be so important that he would send you something to wear? You were his well-kept secret, him wanting you to keep yourself hidden from his life for appearances.

He couldn’t afford to be distracted, he said. In exchange for you disappearing from his life, he sends a weekly allowance that you’ve been saving in a separate account.

Maybe one day when you’re finished, you can pack up your things and truly disappear. Nothing was tying you down to this city anyways.

Bzzt.

You heard your phone vibrate, a text notification appearing on the screen.

Incoming in 5, 4, 3, 2…

“One!” You heard your friend, Yeseul entering your apartment and you put to the dress back into its box hastily.

“Where are you?”

“Bedroom.” She wandered in, quickly embracing you in a hug and you stood still. You’ve been friends since freshman year, Yeseul being the only one who put up with you.

You didn’t mind hanging out with her but you didn’t put your eggs into her basket yet.

Memories of your ‘friends’ asking you to hang out, racking up a huge bill and then making excuses to leave you to pay each time. Your dad even got on your case, interrogating why you spent so much each week. He cut you off, only giving you enough for lunch and your so-called friends were suddenly too busy for you.

How naïve.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Zoning out, burning imaginary holes into the last thing you looked at. You know, the usual.”

“I was just thinking, Seul.”

“Well stop that, we got other things to do.”

“We? What are you roping me into now?”

“Why do you say that like I only get you into trouble?”

“Because you do.” You deadpanned, you haven’t forgotten the time she thought it was a good idea to stay for after-hours when there’s a curfew in place. You had to dip into the savings to pay off the ticket you got.

“It’s harmless fun, Y/N.”

“That citation definitely harmed my savings.” You muttered.

“Anyways, listen. You and me, dancing and drinking at Hoseok’s party tonight. Sounds like a dream, right?”

“A nightmare, actually.”

“Come on, Hoseok was gracious enough to invite me with a plus one, meaning you.”

“I have to pass.”

“Why?”

“I have plans. Dinner plans, actually.”

“Who’s the mystery man? He must be worth your time since you’re passing up an offer from me.” She knows damn well you would pass up any party with or without plans.

“That’s not important. I just don’t think I can miss this dinner. Sorry.”

“So secretive. I expect no less though.”

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I’ll take enough shots for both of us.”

“Remember to drink water in between and eat something too.”

“Okay.” She pursed her lips, leaving your apartment right after and you sat on your bed. You shook off the tension, checking the time and preparing yourself for this dinner.

Whatever it’s about, you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it.

You were adjusting your necklace when you hear a knock at your door. Opening the door revealed Hyunjin, one of your father’s drivers. He was newer than the others but devoted to your father like the others.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Y/N is fine. Take me to where I need to go, please.”

“As you wish, Y/N.” You took his arm, locking your door behind you and followed him to the car. The unease settled in when he started driving, part of you that you just went to that party with Yeseul.

Maybe she wouldn’t make that pointed comment and you would send your father a message.

Alas, here you are, walking into the Blanche like the little good girl he expected you to be. Wearing the dress he picked for you, even putting in the useless effort of making yourself presentable to only be met with him scowling at his phone.

“Hello to you too.”

“Ah, so you did come. Glad to see you have the decency to clean yourself up.”

“I rather you tell me why am I here instead of having this conversation with you.”

“First, sit.”

“I don’t plan on staying.”

“Then, change your plan. I have very important people that you have to meet arriving soon and it would be rude to stand there as you are.” You grit your teeth, sitting across from your father and crossing your arms.

A waiter braved his way to your table, filling up your water glass while you shot daggers at your father. Bastard didn’t even have the decency to even hint at who these ‘very important people’ are and why it should somehow matter to you?

You thought the deal was you wouldn’t even say your father’s name in passing and he could live his life freely. No burden of you.

“Ah, Younghee.” Your father got up, making you turn your head to look at a woman who was walking towards your table.

God, was he going to tell you that he was marrying this woman? Why would you even care if he gets remarried?

“I’m terribly late again, aren’t I?”

“Hardly. Is he here as well?” He? Was there a man accompanying her? Her son?

“Of course, he’s an important part of this conversation.”

“That is right. Oh, I almost forgot, this is Y/N, Younghee.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“How polite. Ah, you’re more beautiful than I thought.”

“Thank you very much.” Currently wishing the ground would swallow you whole, right about now. At least before this other guest shows up.

“Oh, Jungkook, darling, over here.” She waved someone over you, this time you stared forward. You froze as this man took a seat next to you. Fuck, you should have ditched when you still had the chance.

“Pardon my mother and I’s tardiness, sir.”

“It’s quite alright, Jungkook. All that matters is that we are all here now. Before we start, we should actually order something. Breadsticks will not get me through the night, I’m afraid.” This fucker is just going to keep dancing around the real topic for as long as he can-

“Um, I’m Jungkook. Y/N, I presume.” You looked at the man, quietly taken aback by how attractive he was. His hair was slightly parted, each hair perfectly in place. His shaped jaw highlighted his face, his pink lips were a perfect hue and he was just… perfect. But he was going to be your stepbrother, right? You shouldn’t even look at him in any other way.

“You would be right, Jungkook.”

“See, they’re already getting along.” You wanted to roll your eyes, all you did was introduce yourselves.

The waiter took your order, you quietly tapping your foot while your father acted jovial with his two guests. You only answered when addressed, quiet otherwise and hoping your food would arrive soon.

“So, Jungkook, your mother says you’re a game developer.”

“Yes, sir. Currently developing a sequel to one of my first projects.”

“My Jungkookie’s project has sold almost one billion copies globally. I’m lucky to have such a successful son.”

“Mother.”

“That’s impressive, right, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You were more interested in swirling the rich wine that sat in the glass you held in your right hand than whatever this conversation was about.

“Y/N’s in university, right? I’ve heard from your father that you have multiple companies scouting you.”

“That’s really cool.”

“Yup.” You said, taking a large swig and placing your glass on the table.

“Alright, enough of the small talk. Why are we really here?”

“Forgive her, Younghee, I’m afraid alcohol tends to loosen her lips. But I don’t mind cutting the chase.”

“It’s quite alright, I’m sure she wants to relax. After all, to be married so young in this day and age is a rarity.”

Married?

“Wait, excuse me. Who’s getting married?”

“You and Jungkook are getting married. Engaged for now.”

“Are you joking? This is a joke, right?”

“Had you not tell her? This is a lot to load on the child.”

“She could have seen it coming.”

“You’re too mean.” You got up, walking away from the table as you glared at your father. Of course, he would pull some shit like this with you now and then he has to remind you that he was in control.

“Y/N!” You didn’t look back, not caring about who was following you.

“Y/N, please.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“I can’t. Not when you’re like this.” You stopped, turning around to face Jungkook. He loosened his tie, his coat over his shoulder as he caught his breath.

“You know you walk fast in heels.”

“Why did you follow me anyways? Did your mom send you?”

“I came on my own. Your dad made some excuse about you being drinker than he thought, and my mom just accepted it. I figured it was more than that.”

“Even if it was, it’s none of your business.”

“Hard to say when we’re engaged now, Y/N.”

“I don’t want to get married to you, Jungkook.” He looked down, running his hand through his hair.

“Are you really okay with this, having everything in your life dictated by someone else? Don’t you want to know what it’s like to choose?”

“All I ask is that you give me a chance.”

“Jungkook.” How strong is his mother’s hold on him?

“I know that this is probably the worst thing that could happen to you, being forced to be stuck with someone like me but I want to show you who I am. Show you that I’m someone that you can fall in love with. If we don’t work, I’ll break the engagement myself.” You looked at him, his hand clasped together as he pleaded with you.

He looked so sincere, something in his eyes made you feel like he meant it.

“I’m holding you to that.” You replied, looking away from him and he pulled you into a sudden huh. Your body stiffened, not expecting the sudden skinship. He felt warm, the scent of his cologne making it hard to think of a better adjective.

“Thank you.”

“You’d be welcome if you let me go.” You blurted, not wanting to linger around him any longer.

“Sorry. Got a little too excited.” He cleared his throat, you avoid his eyes while you fiddled with your dress.

“Can I take you home?”

“If you’re okay with a few blocks.”

“Why not call a taxi?”

“Easier to walk.” You asserted, beginning to walk in the direction of your apartment and Jungkook could only follow you.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 You made it home, Jungkook awkwardly bidding you goodbye while you muttered a good night before slipping inside. Thankfully, you had classes to distract you but all you could think about how your dad decided to basically sell you off for his best interests. Someone like Jungkook probably had a monopoly on the gaming industry and your father wanted to venture into technology.

Regardless of how good looking he was, how successful he is, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was mainly your father’s and his mother’s influence that is driving him. How long can he put up this earnest act?

Give me a chance.

“Ugh.” You groaned, his words repeating in your head and you felt someone poking at your head.

“Quit it.”

“It’s only Monday.”

“That’s part of the problem, Seul.” You looked up to see her sitting next to you, she didn’t seem upset anymore.

“Then what is it? Mystery date was a dud?”

“Something like that.” More like mystery fiancé.

“What happened?” You came up with a lie, telling her that your father arranged your marriage overnight would result in questions you didn’t want to answer.

“I agreed to a second date and I’m not sure if I’m still up for it since we didn’t start on the right foot.”

“What do you like about him?”

“He’s loyal to a fault, he puts in the effort, ambitious…”

“Sounds like things you put on a resume.”

“It wasn’t the best first date.”

“But you said yes to a second one.”

“But he said some sweet things when he did. It sounded like something out of a drama.”

“Aw, he melted your heart a bit, didn’t he?”

“Shut up.” You snapped, embarrassed that you admitted that part of what he said actually affected you.

“I think you should give it a shot since you saw something in him. Plus, you could always dump him if he’s not what he seems.”

“I guess, you’re right this time.”

“What do you mean ‘this time’? Aren’t I always right?”

“You wish.” She nudged you, you were laughing in response.

After your talk with Yeseul, you felt better about the bombshell. But you figured you would have some time before you would see Jungkook. Not him standing outside of your apartment building with his hands in his pockets.

He looked formal, wearing a waistcoat with a dress shirt. You could see gloves covering his hands and you cursed yourself for immediately thinking of how hot he looked.

“Y/N.”

“At my pace, my ass.” You muttered as you tried to pretend that you couldn’t know him, but he started to jog towards you. The two of you ran in the opposite direction of your apartment until he caught you, your back pressed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Caught you. Part of me is starting to think you like the chase.”

“I like space, which you’re invading.”

“Right, no hugs. But can we talk face to face?” He let go and you obliged to his request, currently giving him a hard stare.

“I really came because I don’t have your number, can’t give our relationship an honest try without each other’s number.” You gulped, even the word ‘relationship’ made you feel weird. He was right, you thought to yourself, you had to give this an honest try, so you could properly reject him and break it cleanly.

After all, how could you fall for someone like him?

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Having daydreams about me?”

“Ha, you wish, Jeon.” You started to walk back in the direction of your house, not wanting to stay out for long.

“Not even my first name, I thought we were closer than that.”

“You have to work for it.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” How do you say things like that so casually, ugh? You pulled out your phone, handing it over to him to enter his number before he turned it over.

“Kookie?”

“It’s cuter hearing you actually saying it out loud.”

“I’m literally never saying that again.”

“Aw, come on Y/N, I can make up a cute nickname for you too.”

“Please don’t.”

“You seem like a sugar plum.”

“What kind of nickname is that? Sugarplum? I don’t even know what that is.”

“Have you never tried them?”

“I think your terrible nickname counts as a deterrent.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to be compared to a candy?”

“It’s not exactly something I want to hear, to be honest.”

“I promise to come up with something better.”

“A promise I wish you can’t keep.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“This is a weird hill you want to die on but by all means, go ahead.”

“At least it’s earned me a smile today.”

“You talk like the main lead in a romance drama. Just awfully cheesy.”

“I hope you’re not lactose intolerant.”

“Seriously, stop it.” You reach your apartment, the two of you talking while walking up flights of stairs until you were at your door.

“Time flies, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“I wish it would stop, kind of liked talking to you.”

“Mhm.”

“Ouch, you didn’t feel the same. I thought we had a good chat.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Can’t play all my cards, can I?” You unlocked your door, letting yourself in but leaving it open enough that you could still see him.

“If this is a game, hope you don’t mind losing. I play to win, Y/N.”

“We’ll see about that. Good night.”

“Night, Y/N.” You shut your door, walking into your bedroom and plopping on the bed.

I play to win, Y/N. Not on my watch, Jungkook.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“If you stare at your phone that hard, you might actually shoot laser beams at it.”

It’s been two weeks since you and Jungkook had met, the man semi occupied your thoughts. He kept his distance, probably leaving the ball in your court in terms of whether you wanted to talk to him or not.

And you hate to admit it but you did want to talk to him at least.

“Har har.”

“Is Mystery Date on your mind again? Did you have your second date?”

“I guess you could say so, it went so much smoother like I could say anything, he would know what to say back. It was nice.” God, you sounded like a high schooler in their first relationship. And you can’t even see you and Jungkook beyond acquaintances.

“So, he wasn’t a waste of time but what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what to text him.”

“Wait, you weren’t already texting?”

“I met him off Tinder and he wanted to delete the app so we exchanged numbers.” You lied coolly, Yeseul humming in response.

“What are you hoping this message sends to him? Not literal, like do you want him to be more enticed by you or like you’re playing a hot and cold thing with him.”

“Just that I’m open to texting.”

“Oh. You’re not ready for sexting anyways.”

“What?”

“Just send him a simple ‘hey’.”

“Isn’t that too simple?”

“But you’re just opening a conversation, you don’t need much.”

“Are you sure?”

“Y/N, do it before I do it myself.”

“Okay, okay.” You murmured, typing it out and hitting send. He must have seen it, the familiar three dots appearing on your screen before his message came.

I didn’t think you would actually text me, I was preparing to camp out your apartment door.

I would totally call apartment security if you did.

So mean, honey bun.

Honeybun? I think you should retire from this nickname thing, it was funny the first time and now it’s just sad.

No good, huh? I have gotten plenty more to try out.

I swear I’m going to block you if you do.

Fine, I won’t try them out here. But believe me when I say that I’m going to have the perfect nickname for you and you’re going to love me for it

Sure, Jeon.

You do realize my name is actually Jeon Jungkook, not Jeon?

I am aware

Man, you play hard to get on the hardest mode, but I’m not giving up. I’m going to capture your heart.

“Oh my gosh, he’s going to ‘capture your heart’. He found your weakness, sappy lines.”

“They are not my weakness.”

“Please, all I have to say is ‘Don’t let go-”

“It’s too soon, Yeseul. Okay, too soon.”

“Are you sniffling?”

“Shut it.”

Great, you got my friend in on your corny lines

Aw, you talked about me to your friends? Can’t keep us a secret, babe? ;)

I rather keep it a secret but I need advice.

Advice?

Yeah, how to deal with such a shameless man.

Hey, I have some shame. It take a lot of confidence to talk to a girl like you, I feel like you can see through me

So, you know to not waste my time.

Time with me is always worth it, trust me.

Mhm

Somehow that hurt more than when you do that in person.

Hey, Y/N, I’m really happy you texted me but I gotta go? Talk to me later or something.

Don’t play too hard

That’s literally my job, Y/N but seriously bye J

“He sounds cute.”

“He’s something else, really.”

“I know you like to keep people at an arm's length but it really looks like he wants to be centimetres apart if you catch my drift.”

“We’ve been out twice, I’m not going to sleep with him.”

“Is he hot?”

“Objectively.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

“I’m going to tell you to bag him.”

“You’re nuts.”

“No, it’s been two weeks since you met, he seems pretty decent and he’s objectively hot, whatever that means.”

“I still need to get to know him.”

“Just take him for a test drive.“

“Yeseul!”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

You were scrolling through your twitter feed, reading some thread exposing another influencer when you heard a knock on your door.

“Coming.” You said, walking over and opening it to Jungkook.

He lost the business attire, wearing a simple black shirt and jeans. Fine, so it wasn’t the suits that made him look so hot.

“Wow.”

“Is there a reason you showed up on this fine Saturday?”

“Because I want to take you out. Plus I got to see you in shorts.”

“My eyes are up here, Jeon.”

“Wait, let me admire them a bit longer.” You were about to swing the door shut when he stopped the door.

“I was just joking, Y/N. But would you like to go out with me?”

“You don’t mean like a date, do you?”

“Whatever you want it to be.”

“Then we can hang out, Jungkook.”

“You said my name.”

“Did I? Must have been a slip of the tongue, Jeon.”

“Shoot, I should have enjoyed it while it lasted.”

“You can wait in the living room. Touch anything and I’ll have your head.”

“You’re joking, right?” You smiled in response.

“Oh.”

“So where are we going?”

“Somewhere fun, casual.”

“How descriptive.”

“It’s no fun if I tell you everything. You’ll know when we get there.”

“Of course I would because we would already be there.”

“Just get changed, Y/N.”

“Bossy.” You teased, going into your bedroom to change.

Should I dress up for him? But the most we are is friends and since when did friends have to impress each other? Gosh, why are you even thinking about this? Just toss something together!

You put on a crop top and some shorts, joining Jungkook in the living room after brushing your hair.

“Let’s go.” You clapped your hands together, getting Jungkook’s attention and walking towards the front door.

You thought you heard Jungkook mutter under his breath, making you quietly smirk before turning to look at him.

“Is something the matter?”

“Of course not. After you.” The two of you opted for the elevator, you listening to Jungkook hum melodically. He led you to his car, opening the door for you and you sat with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Are you really not going to tell me?”

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s a building in this city.”

“I see you can be mean too.”

“Taste of your own medicine. A bit bitter, isn’t it?”

“You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

“A bit.”

“Hmph.”

“Sounds more cute than angry.”

“You’re a strange man.”

“Only to you, Y/N. Mother says I’m the most perfect person in the world, you’re a close second though.” You rolled your eyes, you’re surprised he went so long without mentioning his mother and chose now to bring her up.

“Of course she does. You’re her baby boy.”

“Oh shit, forgot about your father.”

“Let’s keep him forgotten.”

“Alright.”

“I’m surprised you know how to drive.”

“What a weird comment. Why wouldn’t I know?”

“You seemed like the type to have drivers, mommy won’t want her baby to get into an accident.”

“I’m not that much of a momma’s boy. I have a motorcycle license, I’ll have you know.”

“You? On a motorcycle?”

“I was 18 and feeling rebellious. It explains the earrings too.”

“They suit you actually.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I have to see you on a bike.”

“Depends, will you take a ride with me?”

“You just want an excuse to get me to hug you, don’t you?”

“Damn, nothing gets past you. But I miss the night rides and it’s nicer with company.”

“I might take you up on that.”

“I guess I better dust off the old bike, then.”

“It’s not a date, remember that.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled into a parking lot, smoothly reversing into a spot before the two of you getting out.

“This way.” You followed him, the sign a dead giveaway and you smiled.

“I could have guessed that you would pick an arcade.”

“It’s fun and casual.”

“Hey, Ms. Han.”

“Oh, Jungkook honey, you came! Who is this lovely woman? Your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s just a friend, Ms. Han.”

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You bowed to her and she waved her hands.

“No need to be so formal, a friend of Jungkookie is a friend of mine. This rascal has been coming to this arcade for years, even skipping classes to beat the high scores on most of these machines.”

“Is that so? What a bad boy.”

“Hey, don’t gang up on me. I still did well, didn’t I, Ms. Han?”

“With the skin of your teeth. You’re lucky you were a talented kid, now a big name game developer.”

“I’m still the same Jungkook.”

“You are the reason I still have banana milk in my fridge.”

“My favourite. Thank you, Ms. Han.”

“Ah, you.” Jungkook cheekily smiles before laughing, soon enough the three of you were. You took a seat at a machine, Jungkook sitting next to you and playing.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“Depends, what do I win?”

“Your most embarrassing baby photo.”

“Blackmail material, huh? Won’t put it past you.”

“Humour me with what you think you’ll win.”

“You let me take you out on a real date.”

“Aiming high, aren’t you?”

“Of course, the greater the risk, the greater the reward. You in?”

“Better be ready to hand that picture over tomorrow.”

“Don’t count on it, babe.” There’s the damned nickname, hearing it in person has the same effect as it does typed out. You didn’t let it seem obvious, focusing on the machine and the two of you playing a single round.

“I win. I can’t wait to get my hands on the sweet blackmail material.”

“Sure, after our date.”

“That isn’t part of the deal.”

“Check the scores again, Y/N.” You looked at the two screens, Jungkook putting his arm around your shoulder with a smile on his face.

10660 to 1066…5. He beat you by 5 points.

“How.”

“I’ve been playing since high school, I think I’m losing my touch. I have the high score on this game, I think.”

“I want a rematch.”

“If that’s what you want.” You tried different combos, putting all your focus on your character and finishing with a better score than the first time.

“Beat you by 10, this time.”

“Are you cheating?”

“I think it’s a classic case of sore loseritis.”

“I am not a sore loser, just can’t wrap my head around you beating me.”

“Well, I am a game developer. If I were horrible at games, that would be ironic.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“Wait here, I’ll get you some banana milk.” You frowned at him, watching him go into the back and Ms. Han hit you with a rag.

“He looks really happy with you.”

“I think he just likes winning games.”

“This is a different kind of happy, the smile on his face looks different than when he sees me coming into the arcade with a carton of banana milk or hearing about how the neighbourhood kids talked about his game.”

“It’s like he’s in love. Just like that girl he used to talk about in high school.”

“Jungkook had a crush?”

“But he has you now. Keep your eye on him for me, will you Y/N?”

“I-”

“Ms. Han, you’re running low on banana milk.”

“Ya, you punk, you should supply your own.”

“I promise I’ll buy some next time. Y/N, here.” He handed you a bottle, the straw already inserted and you took a sip. It was really sweet, you never thought he would like something like this.

“Can we book a karaoke room?”

“For how long?”

“An hour.”

“Jungkook.”

“I want to hang out with you a bit longer.” That innocent comment led to the two of you singing the opening to Naruto three times and you two belting Unravel on the top of your lungs.

You took a seat, tired and Jungkook sang on his own. He had such a pretty voice, each note sounding perfect in your ears. Is there anything he can’t do?

“One more song?”

“You’re totally going to lose your voice.”

“I’m dedicating this song to you, Y/N.”

“Oh my god.” You covered your face, laughing as he dramatically pointed at you and he entered the code.

The gentle piano played through the speakers and he kept his eyes on the screen as he sang. It was a simple love ballad, it felt like he was truly saying these words to you.

“Are you crying?”

“Shut up, that was beautiful you ass.”

“I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered.”

“It’s a compliment, you jerk.”

“Okay… let’s take you home.”

You followed him out to his car, going back to your apartment.

“Are we really going on a date?”

“Why? Can’t wait?”

“I rather not.”

“But we had so much fun today.”

“But it wasn’t a date.”

“I know. But it was a test run for our real date.”

“You planned this out, didn’t you?”

“No comment.”

“I can admire the sneakiness.”

“I planned the whole thing, except for the little chat between you and Ms. Han.”

“Did you eavesdrop?”

“No, I thought she would say something embarrassing that I rather not relive.”

“Really, not even the girl you had a crush on?”

“She didn’t tell you her name, did she?”

“No, but now I’m curious. A girl that got your attention, wonder what she was like? Could she be the reason you got all rebellious?”

“Hey, save these questions for our date.”

“You’re serious about that?”

“Of course. Let me walk you up.” He locked his doors behind the two of you, taking you up to your floor while talking with you more.

“Just what I wanted to see.” You looked at your father standing out of your apartment, Jungkook stopping behind you. He smirked at the two of you, your blood boiling as he adjusted his cuff links.

“Why are you here?”

“Is there something unusual about a father caring about his only daughter?”

“You? Care about me? When did that start? When I became an asset to you to use?”

“Watch your words, girl. Do you realize who you’re speaking to?”

“A deadbeat father who chose money over me.”

“You-” You shut your eyes, knowing what should come next but it didn’t. Opening your eyes, you saw Jungkook holding your father’s arm and he let go.

“Remember this, Y/N, your life was never yours. Never.” He spat, walking off and Jungkook turned to you.

“He’s done that before, hasn’t he?”

“I push his buttons a lot, don’t I?”

“You don’t have to tell me but I won’t let him get away with it anymore. Okay?” You let him hug this time, holding onto a piece of his shirt for a moment. He didn’t make you say it, thankfully but he knew what your father truly was at least.  

His hand patted your hair, the soft gesture melting your heart a bit. Your mother used to do the same thing when you were scared at night before you’d fall asleep she would say these words:

“I’ll protect you.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 Yeseul came over, tossing dresses in your direction and currently spazzing while you dodged.

“Oh my god, how come you have like nothing to wear?”

“We’re standing in like a hill of my clothes right now.”

“And yet you still have nothing to wear.”

“Maybe I should get a raincheck.”

“Oh hell no, I can finally meet this mystery man tonight and you can’t take that away from me.”

“Yeseul, calm down.”

“I am calm.” So not calm. You sighed, just fishing through the clothes that Yeseul chucked and finding a simple little black dress.

“That is it. Simple, chic and elegant. My tossing abilities have never failed me.” You rolled your eyes, knowing better than to argue with Yeseul about her not noticing it when she initially tossed it at you but there was no point being a dead horse.

After putting on the dress and Yeseul becoming an impromptu hair and makeup artist, you waited for Jungkook.

You heard him knock and Yeseul sprinted to the door before you could make three steps.

“Oh my god, he’s hotter than I imagined.”

“You must be Yeseul.”

“So you have talked about me.”

“Yeah, just the usual, you being annoying and slightly overbearing. Everyday things.”

“Sometimes I wonder how Jungkook managed to get through 2 months of you without even thinking he needs a break.”

“I think about it every day, try me.”

“Oh yeah, you can start right now.”

“Oh no, missy, and pass up on this date when you’ve dressed up so beautifully? I’d would have to be locked up in an asylum.”

“I told you you looked hot.” Yeseul boasted.

“Hush.”

“Now, I’m stealing Y/N for the night. Not sure if I’ll get her back by morning.”

“By all means, take her.”

“Gee, Yeseul, some friend you are.”

“Have fun, lovebirds.”  She rushed you both out, giving you a thumbs up and wink. You cocked an eyebrow, Jungkook leading you away and you were met with a midnight blue motorcycle.

“You weren’t joking.”

“I’d never joke about my Harley. Come on.” You took the helmet from him, placing it on your head and sitting behind him.

“Trust me and hold on.” You listen to the bike roaring to life before purring as he began to ride. He weaved through traffic carefully, probably because of you and parked at a restaurant.

“Can I..um…hold your hand?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, Jungkook quietly lacing his fingers between yours and leading you into the restaurant.

“Reservation for Mr. Jeon.”

“Right this way, sir.” The host led you to your table, an intimate booth with virtually no one in sight.

“A waiter will be with your shortly to take your orders.” He said, walking away and leaving you with Jungkook.

“Are you nervous?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to look this beautiful, it’s kind of distracting.”

“Should I be offended or flattered?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re pretty handsome, I guess.”

“Compliments with you are like pulling teeth.”

“At least you know how much I mean it when I say one due to their rarity.”

“Point taken. But I’m going to keep telling you how beautiful you are until it sticks.”

“You might give me a big head.”

“Even so, you would be beautiful.”

“Charmer.”

“I aim to please, babe. Since you like it when I call you that.”

“When did I-”

“Didn’t think I would notice how you gulp anytime I said it and you look to your left?”

“Okay, that’s weird for you to notice.”

“It’s because I’m always looking at you. It’s hard to keep my eyes off you.”

“Sap.”

“But you drink it up like syrup.”

“Doesn’t make it any less sappy.”

“Fair enough.” The waiter came by, the two of you placing your orders and once again were left to each other.

“What was your childhood like?”

“Always with the hard questions, Y/N. Dad was busy expanding his empire and legacy, Mom took care of me and my older brother. My older brother started working for our dad, spending more time with the company then getting married and putting any other free time into his wife.”

“It was me and mom for a while, but my dad would come back to remind me that I was his son and he’s the one calling the shots.”

“I remember the day I ran off after turning 18, spending countless nights mindlessly riding through cities, spending nights in bars and crashing at random people’s houses to get by. My mother came for me with two men to drag me back home, my father was gone. Fucked off to god knows where.”

“Mom was lonely and so was I, so we lived together. I put my time into game development, being one of the lucky ones to hit big with my first project and here am I.”

“I guess a power-hungry father is a trope we share.”

“You’re right.”

“But you’re conveniently forgetting this mystery crush from high school.”

“She was so carefree, always doing what she wanted but never in the way of others. Like a bird. She flew away, out of my life for years.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“I.. don’t, could only guess she’s happy now.”

“I’m surprised your crush wasn’t a video game character.”

“Lara Croft is still my number one.”

“I see, that’s why you like shorts so much.”

“It was an awakening.” You tittered, he’s such a goofball.

“Your turn.”

“It was just me, my father and mom. My mom died in my first year of middle school, dad starts nosediving into work and I had to raise myself. Dad came home one day and told me that we shouldn’t be associated with each other anymore. Sent me away after high school and occasionally pops in to make me feel like I’m nothing without him.”

“You’re more than what he could ever be. He’s just a grumpy piece of shit.”

“It’s nice to hear someone else finally say it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking the back of your palm.

“Yeah.” He caught your eyes, the two of you having a quiet conversation through eye contact. You didn’t know what to say next until Jungkook started to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

“God.” You started to laugh, breaking eye contact.

“I win.”

“When was this a competition?”

“Since I said it was.”

“Is everything a game to you?”

“Not when it comes to like… serious stuff.”

“How profound, Jungkook.”

“I should be a philosopher.” You shook your head, him chuckling to himself. The waiter came around with your food, appreciating the arrangement before taking a bite.

It was silent yet comfortable. The quite clatter for utensils against dishes left you to think about this moment in time.

You would have never thought that you would be able to sit across Jungkook, being about to joke around with each other and just feel happy in each other’s company.

Didn’t think that you’d find yourself talking every day, hanging out whenever you were free, sometimes even missing him- Wait, when did things become so different?

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s just you got a little something on your cheek.” You took a napkin, gently wiping his cheek before he could. He watched you, those brown eyes drinking the sight of you and you felt like you were drowning.

His hand came to cover yourself when you were about to pull away. Your face grew hot, his large hand clasped over yours against his cheek while he gazed into your eyes. You were slowly becoming his leading lady and you hadn’t even realized it until now.

“I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you, Y/N. Not because of our parents, but because I got to see parts of you that I didn’t know existed. You’re witty, competitive, smart, beautiful, everything I could ever want and need.”

“Jungkook.”

“Tell me I’m not crazy for feeling like this, that I’m not the only one.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“But how do you feel about me?”

“Promise me you won’t grow a big head.”

“I won’t grow a big head all of a sudden.”

“I think you’re different from who I thought you were.”

“Good different?”

“Good different. Maybe more than that.”

“I’ll take it.”

 ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

 You took off your helmet, fixing your hair and Jungkook getting off after shutting his bike off.

“You totally rode slower this time.”

“It’s the only time you’ll hold me.”

“That’s because…you’re the affectionate one.”

“And I’ve been deprived, you know.”

“You have my permission now.” He took a step closer to you, his hand gently smoothing over a strand of your hair before tucking it behind your ear. His hand swiftly moved to hold your cheek before he looked into your eyes.

“I want to kiss you so badly.”

“Please do.” You breathed mindlessly before he leaned in.

He was gentle, your kiss barely touching before you pulled on his tie to reel him closer. Your mind was racing faster than your heart, the softness of his lips blocking out any other thought beside Jungkook.

He tasted like the champagne you two shared, the sweet taste more intoxicating than the actual alcohol. You melted, him wrapping an arm around your waist and temporarily breaking your kiss.

You dived back in, not wanting to let go the feeling his lips gave you. It hadn’t occurred to you that you were waiting for this for so long, holding back for what?

You pulled away, needing to breath and he held you close. His heart was pounding as hard as you was while you quietly listened against his chest.

“Give me your hand.”

“Now, close your eyes.”

“You’re getting bossy, you know.”

“Sometimes I like to wear pants, you know.”

“Don’t get used to it. I like control.”

“Then I’m all yours. Open them.” You looked your hand, seeing a ring on your ring finger.

It was a silver band with red heart crystals embedded around it.

“It’s just a promise ring. A promise that I’ll be by your side… as your boyfriend.”

“Jungkook.”

“Will you be my girl?”

“Of course, I will, Kookie.”

[lilchibi-chan]

Terushima Yuuji x Female Reader

Art by KittleKrattle

Genre: fluff/smut (a good 50/50 for those who appreciate both) 18+ PLEASE

Warnings: jealous/possessive Terushima, degradation, praising, dirty talk, oral, daddy kink, NSFW.

You are in college and Terushima comes to pick you up from school a couple times a week if he’s not too busy with work in the salon. This week he has decided to take a day off, so that he can surprise you and pick you up from school.

When he reaches your campus, he goes to the building that your last class of the day is in. Your class actually let out early, but he didn’t know because he didn’t want to ruin the surprise by contacting you. He decides to walk around the building and look for you since you posted what you were wearing on your instastory. When he finally finds you, you’re with a group of your friends, three guys and two girls. He noticed one of the boys is a little friendlier with you. Always finding a way to touch you whether it be putting an arm around your shoulders, touching your hair/patting your head, even touching your waist at one point. You were also laughing at some of the boys jokes.

He decided to walk over to where you were because he had had enough of watching this random guy keep touching what was his and you laughing at him. Whatever it was, wasn’t that funny.

You heard footsteps coming down the hall, which caught your attention. Your eyes widen and so does your smile because you are so excited to see Terushima.

“Hey ba-” he cuts you off, cupping your face and kissing you, never cutting eye contact with the guy who had his hands all over you.

“What was that for,” you ask smiling

“Oh, I’m just excited to see you sweetheart. Surprise by the way,” he says looking at you and smiling

“Guys, this is my boyfriend, Terushima,” you say excitedly

Everyone goes around the circle introducing themselves. He shakes the hands of the two girls (Kiyoko and Yumeko), daps and bro hugs two of the guys (Soma and Akaashi), even the one that made laugh (Soma). He saved his anger for the guy that was being very touchy (Itsuki).

Terushima did the same dap and bro hug with him, only this time he wasn’t playing nice.

“Don’t fucking touch my girlfriend again. Next time, you won’t get to keep those hands,” he whispered so that you wouldn’t hear. Terushima pulled away from him smiling like nothing happened and your friend tried to do the same, but you knew something was off.

“You ready to go baby,” he asks you

“We were actually gonna go get food and maybe do karaoke, you’re welcome to come, if that’s okay with you guys.”

All your friends confirmed it was okay and you all went to the karaoke bar which also provided food.

When you all get there, you are escorted to a room by the hostess and you all take your seats on the couch. You were next to Terushima in the corner section of the couch and he put his arm around your waist pulling you closer.

Your two girl friends start off the karaoke and you watch them as they’re having fun. You even join in the singing from your seat, Terushima’s arm still around you, but he’s moved it to your shoulders. He was watching as you had fun and smiled at you. When he looked passed you, he noticed Itsuki staring at you.

He decided to show Itsuki that you belonged to him by kissing you on your neck.

“Baby~,” he says slightly moaning in your ear, causing you to melt into him. You start to become flustered and he turns your face so that you’re looking at him and he pulls you in for a kiss. He decided he wanted to deepen it and you allow him entrance into your mouth.

After you finish, he looks back over at Itsuki who now has a sad look on his face, but strangely acceptance which is what Terushima wanted.

Kiyoko and Yumeko finished their song. At the moment, no one wanted to get up and sing yet, so you all decided to eat and drink, even sharing some stories.

TIME SKIP

You all get ready to leave the karaoke bar and you hug your friends good bye. Terushima watched Itsuki closely as he hugged you, making sure his hands drifted nowhere past where they should’ve been. He would prefer if he didn’t hug you at all, but he didn’t want you mad at him, so he let it slide. He wasn’t happy about it, but he let it slide.

You both walk away from the group and he takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers

“Sweetheart,” he says gaining your attention

“Yes baby,” you say in response

“About Itsuki, has he ever, ya know made a move on you?”

“Well... he did admit his feelings to me, but I turned him down and told him all about you.”

“That’s interesting because when I came to pick you up today, he had his hands all over you, my love.”

“Y-you saw that,” you ask nervous

“Oh ho ho, I sure did, sweetheart,” he says backing you onto the wall of a building you were passing by,“and when we get to my place, I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”

You feel your face heat up and it feels like your heart is in your throat, you’re so nervous. You look into his eyes and they’re even darker. Filled with lust and jealousy and you knew you were going to feel it later.

You finally make it to his apartment and as soon as you enter he doesn’t even give a chance to take off your shoes before backing you into a wall and putting a hand around your neck.

“I’m gonna teach you that you are mine and nobody but me has the right to put their hands on you,” he growls into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Now, go in the bedroom and take your clothes off. If you’re not ready when I get in, the punishment will be much worse,” he says again in your ear.

You take your shoes off and go to his bedroom. You do as he says and take your clothes off. You sit on the bed and wait for him to come in the room. You feel extremely vulnerable, but also slightly curious about what is about to happen.

Terushima finally enters the room, his shirt off and a slightly sinister look in his eyes.

“I don’t remember telling you to sit on the bed sweetheart. Get up,” he says demanding

You do as he says and you stand up. He walks over to where you are and stands over you, taking in your frame. He sits in the spot you once were.

“Come here.”

You walk over and stand in front of him. He opens his legs to make space for you to stand between them.

“Kneel.”

Again you do as he says.

“Now baby, you wanna tell me why that weak bastard had his hands on you,” he says with a hand on your cheek

You stay quiet and he grips your hair in response to you not answering.

“Ya know sweetheart, I’m getting kinda impatient here. You gonna answer my question,” he says getting slightly closer to you

“Yes” you manage to get out

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl. Now go ahead and explain.”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ve told him plenty of times that I have a boyfriend. I don’t know why he was putting his hand on me, but I didn’t enjoy it.”

He puts a hand out for you to grab, so he could help you up.

“Lay on the bed.”

You do as he says, then he takes your hands and ties them together.

“Keep them above your head,” he says demanding

He proceeds to go down your body to your wet cunt.

“You’re enjoying this, huh,” he says, laughter in his voice,“such a good little slut.”

He starts to eat you out and you feel a vibration. You didn’t even know he changed his tongue ring.

‘When did he get a vibrating tongue ring?!’ You think to yourself

He starts slow, first entertaining your clit so that you could get wetter for him. You release small moans from the sensation his tongue is providing.

A few minutes later, he starts penetrating you with his tongue and you can feel the ring sending pulses through your pussy and creating a new sensation for you. One that you are really enjoying. You start to grind your hips into him and he brings his hands down your thighs to hold your hips down. He wanted full control of your body and you were gonna give it to him.

As he feels you get wetter and wetter, his desire for you grows. He starts sucking on your folds, even leaving small bites on your thighs when he takes small breaks in between pleasuring your delicate petals.

He can feel that you’re close to your climax, but he’s not finished with you yet. He abrubtly stops and you look at him.

“What baby~, you thought I was gonna let you have it that easy. No, that’s not how things work around here sweetheart. Now, get on your knees like the good little slut you are. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves and goes to the guest bathroom where he had changed to the vibrating tongue ring. He changed it back to his everyday tongue ring and returned to you, who was kneeling on the bed.

He sauntered his way over to you and started caressing your face, stopping once he reached your lips.

“Such a pretty little mouth. Hmph. Bet it’d look even prettier filled with my dick. I’d even bet money on it. Whaddya say, sweetheart? Dare to prove me right?”

He removes his hard member from his underware and strokes himself a little, making him grow a little.

You were taken aback by your boyfriend’s sadistic manner, but you were very turned on by it and did as he wanted, taking his erection into your mouth.

“Ahhh,” he moans

You start sucking his tip, trying to get used to his size and easing yourself more and more down his length the more you wet his dick.

“Ahhhhh,” he moans again,“I was right, you do look even prettier with your mouth full of dick. Really not a terrible sight,” he says smiling

He starts guiding your head, filling you mouth deeper and deeper, until saliva was dripping from your mouth. He made you go faster, taking in the pleasure as he pumped into your mouth.

“Ahhh fuck, baby~. Your mouth feels so FUCKING good and I’m glad it’s only mine to use how I feel like.”

You moan in response since you can’t really talk.

He looked down at you and saw that your eyes were focused on his dick.

“Look at me. Look at me. I wanna see that dirty expression of yours.”

You look at him and a smile grows on his face.

“Good little slut. That’s fuckin right. Look at me.”

A few more minutes go by and he decides he’s ready to finally feel your sex.

He pulls out from your mouth and tells you to lay down again. This time he joins you on the bed. He slides you legs up and goes between them, entering you.

“Fuck~, you’re so wet. Ahhhhh”

He starts thrusting into you. Long,slow, deep strokes. He wanted the anticipation to grow until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“C’mon baby~, I wanna hear you. Don’t be shy. You’re my good little slut right, so let me hear you. Let out those sensual noises.”

You decide to let out the moans you’ve been trying so hard to keep inside. This makes him go faster as the sounds you’re making are music to his ears. He still hitting as hard as he was before, but still controlled and even deeper. He grips your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“Nobody gets to touch you, but me. Fuck, if they even try, I swear I’ll end them,” he say pumping into

Hearing him say that was hot and brought you closer to your climax.

“Who’s pussy is this,” he asks you

“Yours, daddy”

“Who does your body belong to?”

“You, daddy”

“That’s fuckin right and don’t you forget it, sweetheart. Your my little whore, my little slut. Mine baby. All mine.”

He starts speeding up, as he’s close to his climax.

“Ahhhh fuck..fuck..fuck...AHHHH.”

He pulls out, letting his warm cum drip onto your breasts. You soaked it all up, loving the feeling of him releasing the thick white liquid onto your body.

He got a towel and cleaned you up. After you were clean, he got into bed with you and untied your hands. He kissed your wrists, the palms of your hands and your fingers. He helped get comfortable under the covers and wrapped you in his arms.

“You were so good for me, baby.”

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek. He turned your head so you were facing him. He cupped your face with both of his hands and he kissed your lips hard, but full of love.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says pressing his forehead to yours

“Just rest now,” he holds you closer and starts humming a tune to help you fall asleep

I hope y’all enjoyed this ☺️

[dirty-urie]

Little Brendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

PFTW Era

Fluff(ish) Oneshot

PG-13? R?

3.6k Words

Warnings In Order of Appearance: real person fic, language throughout, arguably slight smut, minor dirty talk

Author's Notes:

1. I don't know how I got this idea or what possessed me to actually write it, to be honest, but I had fun, so I guess that's all that matters.

2. Posting this in honor of the anniversary of the show I went to on the first leg of the Wicked tour, which was technically yesterday, but this fic wasn’t done yesterday, so here it is now.

“Awww, little Brendon,” you gush at the computer screen.

“Please tell me you aren’t looking at pictures of my penis,” Brendon says, walking into the room.

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Not that your ego couldn’t use a little bruising, but no, I’m not cooing at your nudes. Merch wants you to sign off on the final photos of the Beebo plush, and look how cute he is!” You shift the computer monitor so he can see what you’re looking at.

“Why are you going through my email?”

“You always ignore emails from Merch, and I like looking at all of the new Panic designs!”

“Babe, I work ten hours a day; I don’t want to do anything I don’t have to. Merch will use whatever designs they think will sell well. They don’t actually need my approval. Those sign-off emails are just a formality.”

You pout. “I know, I know. I won’t go through your email anymore.”

“Good,” he says, relieved. "I wouldn’t want you to discover all the messages from my mistresses.”

“You’re a jackass,” you call, flipping him off as he leaves the room with a smirk.

***

“I’m gonna miss you,” you pout, leaning against the door frame to your bedroom.

He kisses your forehead and puts another pair of sweatpants in a suitcase. “You can’t wait for me to leave. You get to have the girls over, watch all your shitty movies, and you won’t have to deal with my dirty underwear or noisy video games in your nice living room.”

You take the t-shirt he’s about to pack out of his hands and throw it on the bed, pulling him into a kiss. You slip your hands under the waistband of his pants to grope his ass. You pull away. “Mhm, that’s what I thought. I don’t ever have to deal with dirty underwear because you never wear any.”

“Hey! Don’t slut-shame me! You love having such easy access to this body.” He gestures to his body with a strange flailing arm motion.

“You know what? You’re right. I can’t wait for you to leave.”

He side-eyes you. “Well, in that case, you won’t want the present I got you.” He shrugs, refolding his shirt.

Your eyes light up, and you go kiss him again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because it’s a lot. Enough to justify a really nice present,” You say after he pulls away.

“That’s what I thought. I guess you’ll get your present after all. Close your eyes,” Brendon says.

You close your eyes, and he hands you something soft. You open your eyes, and it’s Brendon’s likeness in plush form. He’s wearing Brendon’s tour outfit with a gold jacket over a black tee and black leather pants.

“Little Brendon!” you exclaim, seeing the toy in your hands. “Aww, it’s even got your lips and little eyebrow scar! Thank you, babe.” You kiss him and then Little Brendon. “Now I have someone to keep me company while you’re off getting bitches on tour.”

“Oh, come on, babe,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes, “they’re not bitches, they’re groupies.”

You smack his arm affectionately and then push him onto the bed to crawl on top of him. “Maybe you should practice for the groupies. Wouldn’t want you to kill their rockstar fantasies because you’re out of experience.”

He flips you over and rolls on top of you, nipping at your neck. “Out of experience? What, pray tell, have we been doing every day for the past two weeks, if not building my experience?” he asks with disbelief, punctuating each point with a bite or kiss. “Remember when I made you come twelve times in one hour before I let myself come? Or when we fucked on the roof of my studio when the neighbors were out of town? Or when you fucked my ass with that new toy, the one that vibrates?”

“Shit, shit, point taken,” you moan, grinding up against him while he bears down on you.

His phone pings, and he slows his hips to grab it from the side table. “Fuck, Zack’s out front. I’ve gotta go.”

You grab the front of his shirt and yank him down for a deep, dirty kiss.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but his other love is calling. Tour, that is, not Zack.

“Okay, let me up, loverboy. I’ll help bring your stuff out to the car,” you tell him.

“Thank you. Most of my instruments and stuff are already with the guys, but I’ve still got two suitcases and a backpack.”

You both stand up, and he grabs the suitcases, leaving you with the backpack. “You’re not gonna readjust, rockstar?” You ask, eyeing his tented sweatpants.

He shrugs, “My hands are full, and it’s nothing Zack hasn’t seen before.”

“You just like showing off,” you accuse, and he smirks a little and winks because you’re not wrong.

You walk him to the car and give him a final goodbye kiss. “I love you to death. Knock their socks off, babe.”

***

Without fail, the one-week mark hits you like a truck. You’ve had your fun with girlfriends, and you’ve enjoyed the peace and quiet, but your bed is empty, and it’s weighing on your chest. Even the puppies seem a little more glum without Brendon.

You feel silly, but finally, after two nights of crying yourself to sleep, you give in and grab little Brendon from your dresser and cuddle up with him.

***

Two weeks later and you and the real Brendon are half-asleep, snuggled up against each other in the nicest hotel room in Houston. You can only spend two nights with him, and you refuse to let him go for even a second more than you have to. Which he did not appreciate when he had to use the bathroom, but it’s his fault for leaving you for so long.

“Baby, I’ve got an interview, but I’ll bring back breakfast, and we’ll eat in bed, okay? I’m really sorry,” He whispers apologetically, peeling away from you.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s what you have to do to pay the bills. Can you hand me Little B? He’s in my purse,” you ask, and Brendon obliges without comment, probably just happy you’re not crying.

You fall back asleep with the little guy in your arms.

Brendon knows it’s irrational when he comes back three hours later at 8 am, and he feels a tiny twinge of jealousy at the plush you’re cuddled up with. However, he feels it is not irrational that he’s upset when he climbs into bed with you, and instead of immediately clinging to him like always, you just clutch Little Brendon harder. Almost as if protecting the toy from Brendon.

“Y/N, I’m back,” he whispers in your ear, half-hoping you’ll throw the doll on the ground and roll over to make burning hot love to him for 12 hours straight. That’ll show Little Brendon. Well, no, it won’t, he has stuffing where his brain should be, but it’ll show him on principle.

You do roll over to throw an arm across him, but you still have little Brendon tucked under your other arm.

Brendon decides to call this one a draw.

“Did you bring food?” You mumble.

“Of course, darling. I’ll do anything to spoil you. That’s one of the perks of having a driver’s license and sentience.”

“…What?”

“Nothing. I’ll get your food.”

He insists on feeding you and rubbing your feet, and letting you watch whatever you want on the hotel TV. And it’s just because he wants to take care of you while you two are together. Definitely no other reason. He certainly feels no joy at the sight of Little Brendon lying discarded on the nightstand. Point Real Brendon.

After the day of pampering, it pains you when you check the clock, and it’s time to leave. “Alright, I’ve gotta head out, B. I can’t miss my flight,” you finally say, changing from Brendon’s T-shirt into real clothes.

Brendon thinks about protesting, but he knows better. You have your own life apart from him, and he respects that.

You cram your stuff in your overnight bag and give your goodbye hugs and kisses to Brendon. Then you kiss Little B before throwing him in your purse. You think you see Brendon scowl at your new companion, but you were probably just imagining it.

***

“Surprise!” Brendon shouts as he opens the door.

“Babe! Thank god I sent the strippers home early,” you joke as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Shit, I missed the strippers?”

“You fucking goof,” you laugh, playing with his hair. “What are you doing home early?”

“Nicole needed to come home for some emergency with her house, so I figured I’d charter the plane and zip down with her and Zack to spend the night with my beautiful wife.”

“God, that must’ve cost an arm and a leg, B.”

He shrugs, “Nah, we were only in Portland anyway, and it’s easier than finding a new bassist on short notice. This way, Nicole and I can be back for the San Jose show tomorrow night, and I get a whole twelve hours at home with my girl and my puppies.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad it worked out for everyone. Especially me,” you say, shifting to sit in Brendon’s lap.

You two finish up the episode you were watching before you insist that he comes to bed because he’s overworked and jetlagged. He’s sleepy and doesn’t need that much convincing, but he tries to put up a fight anyway.

“I only get a little bit of time with you; I don’t want to spend it sleeping,” he complains.

“This is the hardest I’ve ever had to work to get you in my bed,” you respond, yanking him to his feet.

His eyes light up, and you shake your head. “No, sir. We’re not having sex. You’re getting at least seven hours of sleep in your own bed with the love of your life, and then you’re going to take a shower, make me breakfast, and give San Jose the show of their lives. You’ll literally see me again in two days when I come to the LA show.”

He bites his lip, still trying to lay the seduction on thick.

“No! Bed! Or I’m making you sleep in the guest room!”

He sighs, trudging along behind you to the bedroom.

“Um, babe, I think you forgot to kick out your mistress before I got home,” he says, gesturing to his side of the bed where little Brendon is tucked into the comforter.

You scowl playfully. “Oh, shush you. Where else should I put him while making the bed?”

“I don’t know, but letting my replacement sleep in my spot feels a little on the nose.”

“He’s not your replacement, baby.”

“Really?” Brendon asks, picking up Little Brendon and getting into bed, “because” he sniffs Little Brendon’s head, “I’m pretty sure Little Brendon is wearing my fifty dollar cologne.”

You blush, “Okay, well I take him everywhere, and I didn’t want him to smell, and it’s not like I could use any of my perfumes…” you taper off, realizing that you may have given yourself away with the ‘take him everywhere’ line.

He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything else before clicking out the light.

“Hey, Brendon?” You ask quietly.

“Mm?”

“Um, what did you do with Little B?”

Brendon clicks on the light. “Ah-ha! J’accuse! You’ve replaced me!”

“I just don’t want the dogs to rip him up and then leave me to clean up stuffing all morning!” You defend yourself.

“Well then, you won’t mind me putting him up on the dresser.”

“Of course, I won’t mind.”

Brendon puts Little B on the dresser and goes back to bed, so imagine his surprise when instead of waking up tangled in your arms the next morning, he’s not even touching you on the king bed. Instead, you’re hugging Little Bastard with your nose buried in his fabric hair.

Little B’s smirk taunts Brendon as he storms out of bed to make his damn wife breakfast. His damn wife.

***

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whine, rubbing your hips frantically.

“Come,” he commands. “Let me see that pretty mouth fall open as you come all over our bedsheets, pretty girl.”

The angle on your clit is perfect, and the image of him getting off on your phone right along with you pushes you into bliss, and your orgasm rocks through your core. You know you’ve affected him when you hear him grunt as come rolls down his fist.

“God, babe, you’re incredible, from a completely different country, fuck, a completely different continent, you still turn me on like crazy,” he admires.

“I could say the same about you. I came so hard just from getting to hear and see you.” You tell him before accidentally dropping your phone. “Shit, sorry, my fingers are a little wet.

Brendon would normally just be admiring the soaked panties he’s getting a glimpse of, but instead, his attention is drawn between your thighs for a different reason.

“Were you getting off by humping Little Brendon?!”

“It’s not what it looks like, okay?” You say, picking up the phone. “He’s the perfect firmness, and he’s way easier to manage than a clunky pillow! It’s purely physical!”

Brendon scoffs, “I’ve bought you thousands of dollars in sex toys, and you turn to him? In our marital bed? I’m being cuckolded by polyester!”

“Brendon, it’s a stuffed animal, not the pool boy. You come back from England in three days, and you can fuck me however you want. Y’know, because of your functioning dick, tongue, and fingers?”

“Just as long as I don’t come back to find you rimming the stuffed tiger from Calvin and Hobbes,” he teases with a smile.

“Hm, is degrading Winnie the Pooh out of the question, too, then? because if that’s the case, then I’ll need to find different plans for tomorrow evening.”

He gives you a pointed look, feigning seriousness before cracking a grin. “Alright, alright, thank you for the orgasm. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he says before blowing you a kiss before hanging up.

“That plush better count his days,” Brendon mumbles to himself before falling asleep.

***

“Do you want me to go with you to the store?” He offers.

“No, baby, enjoy some of your time at home. I’ll just bring my other husband for emotional support.” You toss Little Brendon in your purse.

“I remember when I was your emotional support at the grocery store…” Brendon starts, looking off into the distance.

“Yeah, me too, and you were terrible. You hated it. Rest assured, I’ll make you come back to the grocery store another time, but right now, I’m being nice because you just got back from tour. And you still have the dishes and the vacuuming to do.”

“Aye, aye, captain. Don’t let the paparazzi catch you smooching Little Brendon while I’m at home doing your dirty work,” he calls as you leave.

“No promises! He’s very tempting!”

***

“You never snuggle with me anymore,” Brendon pouts after you reject his advances in bed.

“It’s August, and you’re hot,” you complain, and he gives you a suggestive look. “Not that kind of hot, Casanova. I mean two minutes in, and you’re sweating all over me. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You snuggled with Little Brendon when I was gone!” He accuses.

“Yes, because I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping with something in my arms, and Little Brendon doesn’t sweat, or snore, or wake me up in the morning with his cock pressing into my thigh, or bicker with me about how I choose to sleep,” you explain, annoyed. Brendon looks genuinely upset, so you soften your face. “When the temperature isn’t in the triple digits, and we don’t literally stick together when we touch, we can cuddle. Okay?”

“Fine.”

***

“Bogart, hey buddy, look at this toy for you to chew on. Bite, bite, bite, kill,” he says, throwing Little Brendon to Bogart.

Bogart sighs and rests his head on Little Brendon like a pillow.

“First my wife and now my dog,” Brendon shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Okay, this has gone on long enough,” you tell him, alerting him to your presence in the doorframe. “Sit,” you order, pointing to the couch. “Brendon, you’re jealous of a toy,” you state bluntly.

He blushes and grabs his stuffed enemy. “It’s not about the toy,” he finally admits.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“It’s just,” he struggles to find the right words, “I love touring. I love seeing all the different cities on my days off, meeting fans, partying with different bands, and most of all playing shows.” He takes a deep breath. “But I also love you. I love waking up with you, going out to dinner, watching you get off on my thigh, and just getting to be near you. So when I have to be away from you to tour, sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice, and seeing you do the things I want to do with you with the stupid Beebo plush instead, kept bringing all of those feelings to the forefront” he confesses.

“Oh, B, of course, you made the right choice. I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone sometimes, but I love our life. I love getting my independence when you’re gone, visiting you on-tour, watching you do what you love, having super hot reunion sex. So yeah, sometimes I just wanna squeeze you and smell your cologne and kiss your little face, but I’d never want you to sacrifice your career for that,” you say. “You wanna know why I like Little B so much?”

“Because he’s so good for humping?”

“No,” you laugh, “well, yes, actually, he is. But it’s because he reminds me why I spend some nights alone and hop on dreadful red-eye flights every few weeks and have to hook up with my husband on a fucking bus. So you can put on this dumb gold jacket,” you fiddle with Little Brendon’s jacket, “and perform the songs you worked so hard on for hundreds of thousands of people, and then sell thousands of these dumb little dolls so we can live in a multi-million dollar house with a home studio and a heated pool.”

“So you’re not replacing me with the puppet doll?” He asks.

“Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you feel so intangible. Even when you’re here, I know you have other, more important obligations, so it’s nice to have something constant,” you laugh, “and I think Bogart feels the same way,” you say, pointing to the dog who is curled around his new friend protectively.

***

“You’ve created a monster!”

“Have not!”

“You were the one who gave him Little Brendon!”

Brendon’s eyes dart to the floor because you’re right.

Bogart grew attached to Little Brendon faster than you did and now gently carries the toy with him wherever he goes. If you try to reclaim Little Brendon, Bogart growls and snarls.

“It’s kind of cute, I guess. He’s protecting his daddy,” you say.

“Then it’s your fault for putting my cologne on him,” Brendon retorts.

“Ugh, fine,” you concede.

“Oh look, he’s dropped it,” Brendon points out.

At first, you think it’s a good thing, but you both recognize the look Bogart’s giving.

“Go, Bog! Get it!” Brendon cackles as the dog pounces.

“Oh no, you don’t, bad dog,” you scold, snatching the toy away. “If you wanna hump something, I think Zack’s coming over tonight, but we don’t do that to mommy’s things.”

Brendon’s still laughing his ass off, and you shoot him a dirty look. “C’mon, babe, you’ve blue-balled him,” Brendon says, pointing to the sad-looking dog.

“Bogart is fixed and doesn’t have balls, a characteristic you two will soon have in common if you don’t stop giggling like a ten-year-old,” you threaten, and he, wisely, shuts up. “That’s what I thought. And if anything, this is just vindication for me because I told you Little Brendon was good for humping, and you dismissed it,” you tell him.

“Okay, fine, there was a brief period of time when I was irrationally jealous of a toy,” he admits. “But I think you should get another taste of the real thing before you decide who’s the better lay once and for all,” Brendon says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

“Brendon!” You lightheartedly protest in his arms.

***

You’re lying on his chest contentedly as he strokes your arm. “You wanna know what I miss the most about getting to cuddle with you when you’re touring? Something Little Brendon doesn’t give me?”

“Hm?”

“Your heartbeat. Feeling it under my head or under my palm. Especially if we’re lying together for a while. I love how it slows and steadies the longer we’re with each other. So comforting.”

***

Little Brendon is sitting on your bed with a card that says, “Squeeze me!” on the front. You squeeze the plush, and you immediately recognize Brendon’s heartbeat coming softly from the chest of the toy. You smile and pick up the card.

Hey, baby! It reads, I’m no doubt missing you on the second leg of tour right now, but if you really need some comfort, I hope this’ll do. The recording lasts about an hour, and I made sure it got down to my resting heart rate before it stops. I’m sorry for being a jealous dick about a stuffed animal, but even my possessive lizard brain wants you to have something to make you feel better if you’re ever stressed or upset. (And now that the Beebo plushies are officially for sale, you can rest easy knowing yours is special)

xoxoxo,

Brendon

[writer-k-pop]

Your Sister’s Keeper

여기 있고 어딘가에서 길을 잃지 않는 것이 좋다. It’s better that she’s here and not lost somewhere.

Description: Over the duration of your relationship with Vernon, his sister, Sofia, and you have become quite close. Close enough that in a time of need, she calls for you, not Vernon. Warnings: Mentions of cheating and swearing Genre: Angst? BF!Vernon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Yes, mom," I roll my eyes, still facing the wall. "I will. I'll call Grandma later."  I glance back at Vernon who is patiently waiting just a few feet away at the entrance of the company party. Other guests keep entering the venue, their suits tailored to perfection and their dresses emphasizing all the right parts. I catch his gaze and I throw an apologetic look to him.

"Mom, mom." I say to her to get her attention so she stops talking, "I have to go. I will call you and Grandma later."

"Alright. Have fun with Vernon." My mom says goodbye and then hangs up.

I end the call and turn towards Vernon as I put my phone back in my purse. Just as the phone is fully inside, it vibrates with another incoming call. Without looking at the caller ID, I answer.

"Mom, I told you-"

"(y/n)?" Sofia's voice stops me in my tracks, "Don't say my name. I know you're with my brother and he can't know." Then she sniffles.

I turn away from Vernon's line of sight, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She sniffles again and I can tell she's trying hard not to completely lose it. "Uhm, not really. Can-Can I come over?"

I glance up towards the ceiling, "I mean, I'm not home right now but I can be in like 10 minutes." I offer, internally regretting the lie I'm going to have to tell Vernon.

"I'm already here, can I just go inside?" She sniffles some more.

I find myself nodding though she can't see me, "Yeah, yeah, of course. The passcode is the same and there's some leftovers in the fridge if you need them."

"Th-thank you." She stutters and I hear the elevator ding in the background.

"I'll be there soon. Just hold on." I tell her, refraining from using her name, then we hang up. As I turn back towards Vernon, he walks towards me with a look of concern etched into his face.

"What's wrong?" He asks, reaching me.

I take a deep breath and spit out a lie, "I have to go, Vernon. My friend is having a really bad time and she's already at my apartment."

Vernon's face slowly switches to concern about my "friend."

"Yeah, yeah, go. If they need you go. I can go alone, it's fine." Vernon states and squeezes my shoulder. "Just let me know when you get home and update me."

I give him a small smile and nod, "I will. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just go." He smiles warmly and gently pushes me towards the exits.

Feeling terrible for lying but knowing his sister is on the brink of a break down at my apartment, I pick up the skirt of my dress and walk outside. Once I flag down a taxi and hop in the backseat, I tell the driver my address and send Sofia an "on my way" text.

Watching the streetlights pass, I fiddle with the sleeves of my dress as I wonder what is happening with Sofia. As the taxi slows outside my building, I pay him and quickly shuffle out of the car and up to my apartment. I have to stop a few times to collect parts of my dress that decide not to stay in my hands.

I punch in my passcode at the speed of lightening and throw the door open.

"Sofia?" I call out into my still dark apartment.

"Here." Her meek voice whispers from my bedroom.

When I walk in, Sofia's sat against my headboard with my extra fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around her. I quickly walk over to her and envelope her in a hug. She leans into my chest and I feel her shoulders sink.

"It's okay, I'm here now." I reassure her, "Let me get out of this dress and then we can talk." She silently nods and straightens up allowing me to head to my closet.

"Where were you?" Sofia quietly asks, glancing at my dress.

"I was accompanying your brother for some company end of year party." I inform her, slipping the dress off my body.

"What did you tell him?" She questions me, worriedly.

I shake my head, "I didn't tell him anything. I only said that one of my friends was having a really bad day and needed me immediately. Which wasn't exactly a lie."

"He would believe something like that." Sofia jokes lightly.

"Gives us the advantage." I reply, leaving the dress on the floor and changing into sweats and a sweatshirt.

Climbing back into bed, I take her back in my arms and sigh into her hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask after a few seconds of silence.

She shakes her, "Not yet."

I nod and continue to hold her while she begins to let her tears out. We sit in silence as she cries and I do my best to nonverbally tell her that I'm here and that everything will be okay. My heart breaks with every labored breath she takes in. I begin to wonder what has made her this upset and slowly the anger also rises. How could anyone do something so horrible to such a lovely girl?

"C-can I have some water?" Sofia hiccups.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be right back." I tell her and scoot off the bed. After filling a glass, I head back to the bed and guide the glass into her hands.

"Thanks." She says after gulping down some.

"So, tell me what's goin' on." I sit in front of her.

She glances down, "I, I saw Ryan kissing another girl."

I suck in a breath and my eyes widen in shock.  "Wha- what happened?" I feel the shock punch me in the gut.

"I, I was going to pick him up from his work and surprise him but," Sofia takes in a deep breath, "I got across the street and he walks out with some girl and then kisses her. Right out in the open." Fresh tears make their way down her cheeks and I do my best to wipe them away but they keep falling. "And I couldn't even move. I didn't even know my feet were moving until I was at your building door. And, and, (y/n) it feels like my heart is being crushed by a million bricks and-"

I wrap her up tighter and rub her arm, "It'll be okay. Just keep breathing with me, yeah?"

"He just, right out in the open. For anyone to see." She sputters out, "Like he didn't care if one of my friends saw. Like he,  ugh what a, what a piece of trash."

"He doesn't know you know?" I wonder, staring at my blank wall.

Sofia shakes her head, "I was too shocked to do anything but walk away." She grabs the hem of my shirt in her fist, "I can't believe I actually fell for him. Why didn't I see it before? He's sleazy and awful and what kind of man cheats?"

"He's not a man." I answer her, "A real man doesn't cheat. A real man is loyal and responsible."

"He's not a real man." Sofia mumbles, her tears quietly ever so slightly but not stopping.

We sit together on my bed long enough for the moon to travel quite a distance in the sky. During that time, I run through all the possible things I would do the boy who hurt Sofia while her cries quiet down.

"I'm kind of hungry." She sniffles, readjusting to sit up.

"Did you not eat dinner?" I look at her and she simply shakes her head. Simultaneously I'm reminded that I also haven't eaten.

"I planned on getting dinner with h-him but well... that didn't happen." She explains and I quickly jump off the bed.

"What do you want?" I ask her.

"Something warm." She replies with a small smile that must've taken her a lot of strength.

I nod, "I'll heat up some left over warm chicken soup. And then we can watch movies until either the suns comes up or our eyes droop all on their own."

I make my way to the kitchen and pull out the containers from the fridge. As I pour the soup into a pot, my bedroom door creaks open. I look up to see Sofia peeking out with the blanket resting on her head.

"The room got lonely." She explains. I smile softly and motion for her to sit.

"You are always welcome to join me wherever I am." I reassure her.

Sofia hiccups.

"Do you want a change of clothes?" I question, turning to turn on the heat underneath the pot, "You're probably going to stay the night anyway."

She nods, "That'd probably be more comfy."

I point to my door, "Extra pajamas should be in the middle drawer of the dresser closest to the bedroom doo-"

The doorbell cuts me off. Confused, I walk over to the little screen that shows me who's ringing my door bell. Vernon stands in front of my door, his hands stuffed into his pockets and lips pursed, patiently and anxiously waiting for me to answer.

"Sofia, go into my room and get changed. I'll try to get him to leave." I look to her and she immediately runs into my bedroom, closing the door securely behind her.

Once I hear the definite click, I walk over and open the door halfway.

"Hey." I smile, sticking my head into the space.

"Hey." Vernon smiles, "Everything okay? How's your friend?" He asks.

He's still in his attire for the company party but he's undone his tie and a few buttons of his shirt.

I nod, "She's in pretty bad shape now but she'll be okay."

"I just wanted to check on you cause you never texted me." Vernon explains his visit and I mentally facepalm myself.

"Sorry about that. I mean I got home and well, yeah. It's been a little crazy. Sorry." I apologize again.

Vernon shakes his head, "Don't be. You've been helping a friend and that's admira..ble..." He trails off as his gaze moves past me. "Are those Sofia's shoes?" He points towards the ground.

I turn my head and spot her favorite pair of tennis shoes. They're her favorite because Vernon custom made them for her birthday last year. She wears them everywhere.

"Is Sofia here?" Vernon's tone suddenly turns concerned. "Is she the pers- Sofia!" He pushes the door open and rams past me. "Sofia!"

"Vernon." I rest a hand on his shoulder. "Stop."

"My sister called you and you lied to me about it?" He turns towards me in bewilderment.

"Vernon." I repeat his name but he doesn't let me talk further.

"Why would you lie to me about it?" He questions, "It's my sister. My baby sister." His voice begins to rise in volume, "Why you and why not call me?"

I grab both of his shoulders tightly, "Because some subjects are best left to discuss between girls and not her older brother. At least not right away." He rests his hand over one of mine and sighs. "Just trust me when I say that she's here and she'll be okay."

"What happened?" Vernon asks, his eyes pleading with me.

"I can't tell you. It's not my place to tell." I shake my head in small motions. "When she's ready, she'll tell you but right now, this was the only place she could think of to come. And I don't know about you, Vern, but I'm glad she chose here over anywhere else."

Vernon nods in agreement and takes a deep breath to calm himself, "You're right. It's better that she's here and not lost somewhere."

"She's safe here. I'll make sure of it. But for now, it's probably not the best for you to be here." I hate that I have to say it but it's not entirely false. "Just make sure you're not too far away. She's going to need her big brother sooner rather than later."

He gives my hand a squeeze and presses a kiss to my forehead. "You'll call me with updates?"

I nod, "I promise. You'll know when I know."

"Just," Vernon looks around at the ground unsure of how exactly to put it, "Just remind her that I'm here if she needs me."

"I do." Sofia chokes back a sob and in an instant Vernon has her wrapped in his arms. A new wave of tears wets his shirt as her grip on him tightens. "What am I going to do?" She cries into his chest. I can see Vernon's heart break with every word and I can feel mine break just the same.

"What's going on? Can you tell me that?" He pulls back slightly to look at her pained face but quickly wraps her up again. Pulling her towards the couch, he tries to get the story out of her while also comforting him. I, on the other hand, continue to stir the pot of chicken soup in the kitchen.

I listen to her choke out the story again and I constantly switch from stirring to watching Vernon's face for any movement.

Once Sofia is done reciting, Vernon runs a hand over his face and lets out a frustrated sigh. "Asshole." He mutters. "And he doesn't know that you know?" He questions to which Sofia shakes her head. "I should go murder him. He's an awful human being who- ugh, just wait until I get my hands on him." He angrily rants leaving me in a bit of a shock because I haven't ever seen him this riled up. Though it makes sense. It is his little sister after all.

"What am I going to do, Vernon?" Sofia asks looking up at him.

Vernon takes a breath to collect himself before answering. "Well, first of all, you are going to break it off with him. You don't need a lying and cheating boy. You deserve a much better person, a real man."

"What comes after that?" Sofia questions.

"After that..." Vernon pauses then looks to me for help finishing the plan.

"After that," I repeat and walk over to sit on the coffee table in front of Sofia, "You are going to heal and you are going to get better. You are going to live your life to the fullest and make him realize what a terrible mistake he made by cheating on you. Then even if he comes back asking for a second chance, you'll have the strength to simply smile at him and walk away."

Sofia sniffles and wipes her eyes. "I will?"

"You will." Vernon confirms.

"But I feel like shit." She pouts, fresh tears glistening in her eyes.

"Just for now." I quickly remind her, "That's normal. Completely and absolutely normal. But soon, you will start to feel better."

"And mom, dad, (y/n), your friends, and I will all be there every step of the way." Vernon continues and Sofia nods in understanding.

I pat her knee, "Let's get us some food. I'm sure that might help a little."

Vernon gave me a look of surprise, "You guys haven't eaten?"

I shrug, "Like I said, it got a little crazy when I got home. Do you want any?" I ask him as I walk towards the kitchen but he shakes his head.

"I'm still full from the party." He answers.

I pull out two bowls from the cabinet and fill them both with steaming soup. Picking up two spoons and the two bowls, I make my way back to the living room and set the bowls down on the coffee table.

Sitting on the floor, I begin eating, my eyes never straying from signs that Sofia might need something else. Vernon helps Sofia sip the soup and slowly she starts to eat with more energy.

"You don't have to help me." She mutters, finally taking the bowl from Vernon's hands.

Vernon shrugs, "I want to."

Once the soup is finished, Sofia's eyes refuse to stay open and Vernon carries her into my bed while I sort out the dishes. Just as I set the pot on the drying rack, Vernon walks back out, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"Alright, where does this prick of an ass live?" Vernon half-whispers, half-yells, his palms pressed into the countertop.

I dry my hands, "She needs you here. Not looking to beat up some boy who's not worth your time." I tell him.

"She'll be okay, right?" Vernon suddenly asks, his shoulders drooping deeply.

Throwing the towel somewhere near the sink, I walk behind him and hug his waist. "She will be. I don't know when but I know she will be."

Vernon turns around and clasps his hands behind my back, "Thank you." He kisses the top of my head.

I let out a tiny chuckle, "You don't have to thank me. If it were my sibling, you would've done the same."

"True, but still, thank you." He squeezes my body to emphasize his point.

"You're welcome." I turn my head and glance at the clock. "We should probably go to sleep too." I pull away and bring out one of the many extra blankets I have, "You take the bed with Sofia, I'll take the couch." [For those who think siblings sleeping in the same bed is weird: fight me.]

"Are you sure?" Vernon asks, worried that I won't sleep well.

"I'm sure. She needs you more than I do tonight." I reassure him.

He walks over, wraps me another tight hug, then presses a kiss to my lips which I reciprocate.

"Goodnight." He rests his forehead on mine for a second.

"Goodnight."

[eutaerpe]

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings—  smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary —  the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

 Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

 You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

 Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

 You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

 Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

 You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

 Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

 You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

 Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

 Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

 Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

 You

[12.52]

;p

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

 Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

 You

[12.52]

i

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

 Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

 You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

 Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

 You

[12.53]

you didn’t

 Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

 Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

 Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

/

 The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

 Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

 Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

 (“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

 The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

/

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

/

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

/

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

[octupus-on-the-moon]

A plan

~Yeah, took longer then expected, but i´ll update regulary from now on. The ending is bad i will change that later. Anyway i hope you guys enjoy it~

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Sixth part of a nightmare

Word count: 1566

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mental health issues 

Bucky and y/n spend the rest of the day planning how they would get to the documents of Mr. Belove. They seemed to start enjoying each other’s company. With every laugh and teasing comment, the loneliness that surrounded both faded.

“Wait a minute, won´t your father… Belove… whatever, won´t he suspect something if you don´t come home tonight?” Bucky asked from the floor. He was sitting in front of a hand painted ground-plan, looking up to y/n. She was sitting on the kitchen counter, childly swinging her feet, chewing on a lollipop.

“No, he isn´t that overprotective. I told him I met some old friend from high school and that we have a lot to catch up. Then I wrote Lisa, the woman that helps me out in the house, to pack some things and bring them to me. Don´t worry I told her to wait for me three blocks from here” y/n explained proud of her foresight.

“You really thought of everything?” Barnes praised her, tilting his head a little to the side. “I like that. You can have the bed by the way. I sleep on the floor anyway” Y/n feet stopped “Are you okey?” He frowned. Her proud expression froze. “Did I say something wrong?” Bucky added, surprising himself with a worried tone in his voice.

“No. No. It´s fine. You just reminded me of someone” She excused herself hasty. Followed by a broad smile, that didn´t reach her eyes “However, do we go over the plan again?”

 The first problem, was that her father never left the house. He spends most of the time in his office or in the library, near the office. The only moment the bureau was completely unsupervised, not counting the security system, was while breakfast, dinner, late at night or on Friday afternoon; The only day of the week he would leave the house to play golf for a few hours. Barnes and y/n decided to do the-not-actually-a-break-in that day.

The second problem only concerned Bucky. It consisted in him needing to ask Sam for another favor…  

 “It´s easy.” Barnes began “You come home from your lecture at 12 pm, then you take lunch with him. He goes off to play golf at 1:30 pm. I turn of the security system at 1:40 pm. You slip into his office and get the documents of the vault. Then we meet at the gate 2 pm sharp. If something goes wrong, we meet at 3 pm here.” He finished with his everlasting, impenetrable face.

“Sounds solid.” Her phone vibrated. “My package arrived” Y/n announced while looking at her phone. “I´ll go get it. I´ll be back in 20. Don´t do anything fun without me” and she left.

 Barnes sat still for a few moments. He was thinking. Since she arrived this morning, something inside him had changed. But what was it? Bucky questioned himself. Then he realized that he had not thought of his anger about Sam, Steve and the shield. Also, his Yori-problem, all the guilt, slid into the background. Today Bucky had laughed and smiled more than he had since 1944. Now that he was there all alone, the silences came back. He felt the void, with all his worries, slowly approaching him.

“It’s the quietest most personal hell” Dr. Raynor´s voice echoed in his mind. Maybe she was right, he thought.

Someone knocked. Barnes rushed to the door. Anything was better now. Better than that awful silence. He threw the door open, just to find Yori standing right in front of him, with a pretty displeased face.

“What about dinner James? We said 6, it´s almost 7” Nakajima complained immediately.

“Oh. Dammit. I am so sorry. I forgot. It´s just. I had a crazy day. And I have a guest.”

“A girl?”

“No! Yes. But not like that. You know what. Just come in” Yori was all smiles as he passed by Bucky, who was desperate by his sudden change of mood.

“Who is she?” Nakajima queried. He was calmly crossing the short corridor, while Barnes closed the door. Bucky´s face went blank, as it occurred him. The report was laying on the counter.

“Ehhh. She. I mean. We” Bucky stuttered as he hurried into the kitchen to collect all the papers “We are coworkers. But she has a problem in her house and is staying a few days with me” He lied after stuffing the papers into an old black backpack, casually leaning against the sink. “She should be back any moment, then we can decide over dinner” Yori looked disappointed, but his face lit up a little after a second.

“James”

“Yeah?”

“You only have one bed” a suggestive smirk appeared on Nakajima´s face. If you looked close enough you could watch Barnes´s cheeks turn red. What did he do to deserve the day of today? He asked. Probably annoy his therapist and not follow the three holy rules, Bucky answered himself, but he won´t change it in the future.

“I will sleep on the floor”

“That´s not comfortable.”

“I know but I can´t share the bed with a stranger Yori”

“Did not mean that. I have two thin extra mattresses. You can have one, till she´s home again” Nakajima offered all serious again. Barnes first reaction would have been to reject his suggestion, but if he did that, he would need to explain why he wanted to sleep on the floor so bad. Or Nakajima would misinterpret Bucky´s intention with y/n.

“That would be great, thank you”

“No problem.”

Silence. Again. But it did not last long. Although Yori preferred not to talk, he felt that something was up. James was usually a very calm guy, but now he was wriggling around impatiently. So Nakajima started to tell about his day. Barnes listen attentively, while making some tea. Grateful not to be surrounded by silence.  

 “James? I´m back” y/n interrupted them. “I thought we could order pizza” Her voice lowered at the end of the sentences, as she turned around the corner seeing Barnes and Nakajima. “Oh! Hello, I`m y/n.” She introduced herself, reaching her free hand towards Yori. The other one was holding a grey sports bag.

“Yori Nakajima a pleasure to meet you” The little grey man replied, accepting her hand.

“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Nakajima. I didn´t know you were expecting someone today” Y/n said, first addressing Yori and then Bucky.

“Yori is my neighbor. We eat sometimes together, but I forgot that we agreed for dinner tonight” Barnes explained a little insecure, because he didn´t know if it was okey for her, sharing dinner with Yori. Nakajima was silently observing the interaction between both.

“Oh, but he can stay for the pizza don’t?” y/n asked Bucky with pleading puppy eyes. Something about that look made him feel warm inside.

“Yes of course.” Barnes agreed with a little smile, that only Yori seemed to notice. Approving whatever kind of relationship these two had, with a knowing look.

“Mr. Nakajima, what kind of pizza do you like?”

 Mr. Nakajima liked the classic New York-style pizza and enjoyed the red wine, Barnes found in one of the mostly empty cupboards of his kitchen.

“James you are really in need of some furniture” Y/n commented from a wooden chair. Yori was comfortably seated on the little armchair, even though he struggled a little reaching for his wine glass on the floor. Meanwhile Bucky was standing near the counter.

“I never planned to have people over and I´m almost never at home, so what´s the point of buying furniture”

“I live alone, but at least I have a table to sit on” Yori added while he balanced the plate on his knees reaching for the glass on the ground.

“Yeah, where do you eat usually? On the floor?” Y/n teased him grinning, before she took a bite of her pizza. Barnes shifted his weight on the left side, uncomfortable with all the questions.

“I never eat at home, cooking for myself isn´t worth it and if I order something I just sit on the floor or in the armchair” Bucky justified his meager living, shrugging and nodding towards Yori. Who just shook his head, amused, about the poor argument. This drew y/n attention to him.

“Mr. Nakajima you said you lived alone. Do you not have any family? Children?” She asked curiously. Regretting once again talking so thoughtlessly, as Yori´s face turned expressionless. Scared of breaking the silence. Y/n looked up to Bucky for help. But he was starring down at his pizza, lost in his own thoughts, which didn´t seem to be pleasant either. “I´m sorry if I did say something wrong. I didn´t know…” Nakajima took a deep breath, so she interrupted herself.

“It´s fine, as you said, you didn´t know. My wife died many years ago giving birth to my firstborn son.” Yori started talking calmly. “My son died a few years ago in a shooting. Since then, I´m alone. James moved here some months ago and spends some time with me. A girl, from the sushi restaurant around the corner, also keeps an eye on me, but that´s it.”

It took a while and an empty wine bottle to restore the relaxed atmosphere. The day ended with a more or less intense card game. After Bucky brought the mattress from Yori´s apartment to his empty livingroom. 

All rights reserved.

Ps. Yeah, i broke my own heart with the dinner scene

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[neonponders]

I FINALLY uploaded again to my first Harringrove fic ever, so here’s an easy way to read ch. 1 since a lot of people here don’t know me from Dracula Has a Mullet haha

Read on ao3 here ~

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. It’s just not everyday that you walk in on someone fingering Alexandra O’Neil with their teeth—fangs—in her tit.

There were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately. Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire?

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Billy has the grace to extract his freaking teeth with a semblance of being surprised. “I didn’t know you had that kind of mouth, Harrington.”

Steve waves a scolding finger at him with all the gusto of a drunk, and he has the solo cup to justify it. “Put those away! She was homecoming queen last year. Jesus, have some class.”

“You serious?”

Steve downed the last of his beer and Jäger with a grimace, his voice going raspy. “Look, I’m not one to judge a lady’s standards, but really, Alex…Alex?”

The lady in question was so blissed out she looked like one of those unnaturally stupid women in every Dracula movie. Billy actually moved aside as Steve pulled her away from the wall—away from Billy—to try and talk to her. Righting her dress with quick yanks, he covered her gorgeous, if small, breasts and gave her a shake. “Alex! Hey!”

He could hear—could feel it, more like—Billy moving behind him in the dark room. Steve had come up here hoping to claim the guest room before someone used it to hookup from the party downstairs. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up from a mid-party nap to someone being blown, but sometimes it’s the price one pays for free liquor and an ounce of decent sleep.

“What’s wrong with her standards? Huh, King Steve?”

The voice is right behind him, so close that the damn vampire has to rear backwards when Steve whirls around. “What kind of vamp name is Billy? Wait, that’s short for something—”

“If you call me by anything else, I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your teeth.”

“You’re not charming like vampires,” Steve practically complained. “Gotta work on that. Everyone gossips here. Folks will know you’re toothy like…” He fumbled a clumsy but sharp snap of his fingers.

Billy made a derisive sound before his voice crooned, “Seems like I’m flying just fine under the vampire radar, then.”

He was heaving Alex back up from where she had slumped against the dresser when Steve released her. Steve raked a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a slog through the alcohol, but he surmised that he could not take her away from this guy. Case being: Steve was far too drunk to logically drive, and to where? It was her house.

“You. You gotta go.”

Billy huffed one of his low, mirthless laughs. Instead of setting Alex nicely on the bed, he just kind of dumped her there. She let out a sort of dumb-giddy moan as she face planted a pillow and he faced Steve. “Excuse me?”

“You’re, like, biting people at a party!” Steve realized somewhere between his tone and his slight—or perhaps exaggerated, it was hard to tell at this point—sway, that Billy was far more sober than he felt.

Not the time to play hero but whatever.

Billy slowly stepped toward him. “There’s plenty worse at this shit house than me, Harrington. Worst weed I’ve ever had. And that shit whiskey’s been so watered down, it’s nothing but wheat water.”

“Hey!” Steve was poking two fingers at him before he meant to. “They just renovated the place and I got well paid for the tiling and paint!”

“So you’re the reason everyone’s been tripping over the same spot in the kitchen?” Billy huffed.

“And the whiskey’s not so bad if you chase it with grape juice. It’s like toast and jam water. Whatever, no one’s here for your holier-than-thou, California bullshit!”

Billy was caught by surprise that time. His whole expression lifted, brows and eyes widening as he repeated, “Holier. Than. Thou. That’s the kind of shit you pick up from books. I didn’t know the king could read.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grimaced, really just wanting to get Alex tucked into bed and maybe join her. “You’ve been riding me ever since you got here.”

“I definitely have not been doing that,” Billy retorted and then smiled. “What, you offering?”

“Was she?” Steve cornered, drawing himself up to his full height. Admittedly, not much taller than Billy, but small victories lead to great heights or something.

Billy wiped his mouth and Steve’s eyes plummeted to those lips. “Yeah, she was. She pulled me upstairs, or is that so hard to believe, blue balls?”

“It kind of is, yeah,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “Alex has asthma. Like, inhaler tucked in her bra at prom in case the slow dance was too much. She’d never get with a chain smoker like you.”

“She would if her high school sweetheart cheated on her with the first college bitch he found.” One of Billy’s eyebrows perked up with his shrug. “I’m a favorite for ladies looking for a rebound.”

Steve grimaced. “Derek cheated? How do you know that?”

“That’s between her and me,” Billy said, stepping forward again. “But I hear you’ve been due for a rebound for a while, Harrington.”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy. It wasn’t even Nancy, really, but he didn’t want to talk about anything regarding his sex life or lack thereof. Steve diverted, “I want you to leave. Go find someone else to—whatever the hell this is.”

“Well. You’re right here.”

“Not me, dumbass. I told you to leave the house.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Billy smiled. “What? You’ll let me beat the shit out of you again? We had an audience last time too.”

“I wouldn’t be too cocky about last time,” Steve groaned, beginning to take a step back. “The way I hear it, Jonathan had to mop you off the floor after—”

Billy wasn’t listening. His eyes were on Steve’s neck and the only gut wrenching, instinctive thought Steve had was weapon. It came in the form of a glass lamp, which he wrenched out of the wall to break over Billy’s head.

The hard thud of thick glass hitting before the shatter and glass raining over the floor had Steve gaping at him. Billy stood very still. Way too still. Steve wondered if he had knocked him out, but his legs hadn’t unbuckled yet.

Then Billy lifted dark eyes beneath his mess of a fringe, pupils blown wide. Steve continued to stare at him with the mechanical parts of the lamp still in his hand. “Holy shit, you didn’t even flinch! You’re supposed to dodge when furniture’s coming at you—”

Billy gripped the wrist holding the parts and wrenched him so far that Steve couldn’t react to Billy’s other hand on his pants. Heaving him up by his belt, he slammed Steve onto the table from which the lamp had originated. Music thrummed around them, the very beams in the walls vibrating. Steve defied the laws of his denim pants by folding his leg against his side to kick Billy in the gut. Ragged sounds from both of them went unheard by the party below. Steve slid like a heavy tablecloth to the floor with Billy likewise winded and crouched in front of him.

“Why…” Steve tried, rubbing his chest and hoping his talking lasted long enough for him to decide whether running or trying to pin Billy down was the best decision. “…can’t you just…not do this? Whatever alpha bullshit game you think life is.”

“Some of us don’t want to go through life with your dashing prince crap,” Billy spat.

“You think I’m dashing? I couldn’t tell, I passed out the last time you punched me in the face.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah. You’re just as soft as I remember.”

He was moving again and Steve felt a wild, foolish—downright stupid—thrill to try something else. “You need to leave, man. Really. I know a party of blackout graduates might seem like easy pickings, but Hawkins is different.”

“You don’t know shit about different,” Billy growled. “You’ve never seen grass outside this bum fuck of a town.”

“I’ve been to Disney World. And New York City. There’s gotta be some hospital nurse you can swoon into letting you raid their blood bank?”

He couldn’t tell if Billy was getting angrier or not. The man was always angry, seemed like. “I’m not drinking from a freezer. Now shut the hell up. You’ll enjoy this like your homecoming queen.”

A last ditch effort, diving in the direction of the door, but it wasn’t the first time Billy had been on top of him with murder in his eyes. Steve’s hands fumbled at Billy’s face, but then his wrists were pinned above his head and a panicked whine escaped as Billy’s hot, humid breath found him.

Steve went slack. They always do. Billy had figured out that something in his teeth or saliva sedated those he bit, and more. A whole lot more. It made a good flirt into a hell of a time. Alexandra of the Hawkins Homecoming Court had already come on his finger when Steve, of all people, waltzed right in.

It made hunting annoying. It made hunting fun. He had to be picky; didn’t want anyone he couldn’t look at for longer than three minutes moaning all over him while he tried to feed. His looks did most of the work. The right dash of charm here, a nice compliment there, and then his fangs did the rest.

Steve was hard under him. Billy felt the distinct push of his jeans against his own ass while he slid his fingers under Steve’s nape. Lifting his neck, he made sure the moron’s windpipe stayed open, as well as lifted his meal closer to his mouth—

A strange sound came from Steve. Billy’s eyes flicked to his face, but when that labored breathing sound happened again, he sat up and stared. Steve was crying.

This had never happened before. Those doe eyes that all the girls had ranted about when he first drove into Hawkins were red and squinted as moisture slid over his temples. Billy even checked to make sure he wasn’t sitting too heavily on his dick or something, but the gears of his brain slid into place.

Steve usually wore sunglasses at parties. Billy couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Are you a drunk crier, Harrington? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He gripped Steve’s jaw, but his whole head lolled, those eyes barely finding him through the daze. “I just wanna sleep,” he said quietly. Fresh tears raced into his hair as he passed out.

[secretsniper3]

Part 4: Tough Day

I awake with my hands where they can usually be found in the morning, clamped around my belt while fluid pours out between my legs. Master has kept me on denial for 3 days now and I can barely take it any more. only 2 days ago I was edged in a electricity fuelled nightmare and yesterday i was edged by a mystery woman and forced to walk for hours as a latex maid, sweeping up dust and cooking duties. To go from such a high back to the normal, well, I wanted the high again, Craved it even, to feel the caress of another on my body and be pleasured beyond reckoning. with my morning edges still out of reach and my clit throbbing even now I stand to get ready but hear a knock on my door as my Master enters the room.

“We are having a party today, my Dear, and I want you to look your best, red lips, high heels and a dress.” he says as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls out a blue silk dress. “this dress will do nicely. You will wear nothing else and wait here till i come and get you.” he says as I hear a knock on the front door. I nod as he leaves and begin to dress myself..

---------------- Meanwhile --------------

As the front door opens I stand there in all my glory, long blue hair caressing my back in my black dress and heels, im welcomed into the house by the Master and step inside, he takes my coat and offers me a refreshment. Gladly accepting he returns with 2 glasses of champagne and hands me 1. “To a glorious party!” the Master says, I raise my glass and drink to the toast and begin to discuss the entertainment, glancing at the stairs knowingly and as I do I feel light headed. Grasping my head I quickly put the glass on the table moments before my world goes black. “YOU will be MY entertainment later on.” the Master says with a laugh.

Waking up but keeping my eyes shut I shift around a bit, making a barely audible grunt in the process, my attempt to rub my eyes is met with immediate resistance and my eyes fly open and, to my horror I find Im bound. Ropes crossing all over my body as my attention is pulled to the tubes running out of my nose and mouth. The Master playing with my bound form I shift around and make my reawakened state known to him, with a laugh he tells me to relax as I feel plastic push into my urethra I wince at the discomfort. Having another laugh at my expense he leans in close to my face and says “you were never invited to my little party my dear, i simply wanted you here for a little fun for a few days.” and with that he checks that my bindings are secure, arms in a strict bind behind my back, elbows and wrists pressed against their counterparts and then pushed against my back, useless there but I guess thats the idea. My pussy and ass have intruders and they are not small, my ass stretched wide to accommodate my new friend in there and my pussy feels like its near capacity if it isnt already. My clit feels pressure from a suction cup and my new Master, seemingly reading my mind said “it vibrates too.” Im in trouble and I know it, but powerless to stop it. Looking around for anything to help I see a box nearby and a hatch in the floor is raised, my heart skips a beat and a half.

Confirming I am completely trapped he places earpieces in my ears and a hood over my head to lock them in, I can still see and theres holes for my tubes, my hair poking through the back as it always does. Lifting me into the box Im glad to feel and see its padded with foam covered in black silk, I barely fit in there but he manoeuvres me into the box without much difficulty. Pushing my tubes and earpiece cables through the wooden lid, I know that when he closes it I wont be able to open it without first releasing myself, highly unlikely, as he seals me in I feel my new home lifted again and then lowered, landing with a soft thud I hear another lid closing, Im in another, bigger box.

Before I think this could get much worse for me I hear something in my ears, its soft but among the words are “slave.. submit.. property..” its too quiet to make out what words that are in-between.. Drinking in the darkness thats swallowed me my ass, pussy and clit hum to life with a speed that makes me jump, or I would but I could only manage a slight twitch, these binding were too strong for me. Hearing nothing over the humming the words grow louder in my ears! Hearing it clear as if spoken right in front of me its saying “you are now a slave, you will submit as you are now property”. Eyes widening further as it repeats in my ears, its all I can hear, the hum of my tormentors only scratching at the noise Im hearing. Above me, hard at work my new Master has plugged my mouths tube to a tube under the floor, my nose tube running up the legs on the table placed above me, noone will know Im even there at all.

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

Waiting patiently on my bed for my Master he enters wearing a black suit, looking incredible as always and seemingly effortless I stand and let him inspect my clothes. “very nice indeed, youll be the life of the party” he says with a smile. Leading me downstairs as someone knocks at the door, the guests have arrived. Standing up straight as my pussy relentlessly pulses juice down my legs I lower my head as the guests enter, Women and Men dressed for a fancy dinner, 3 even bringing slaves of their own. The party begins and everyone has a chance to mingle, I stand at my Masters side as he brags about me to his friends, I wait patiently, unable to speak without permission as a hour passes.

Making his way onto a elevated platform my Master calls for attention. “im so glad so many of you came to enjoy the show, my slave has been denied for days on end with potent drugs keeping her thighs slick with her pre.” pointing at my legs, they shine with my fresh coatings, I blush as everyone looks at me. “let the entertainment commence!” my Master shouts as he takes my hand and pulls the cloth off of a small box on the platform. A Sybian with a large, hollow dildo with holes all over it, it will fill me and collect my juices and cum completely. Without wasting time my Master tears my dress from my body as I scream at the aggressiveness, other men hold my arms as my Master removes my belt from my hips and with a loud clang it hits the floor. Pulling me down Im forced onto the dildo, it sliding effortlessly inside me and metal restraints are secured around my legs and waist, a armbinder goes around my arms and is pulled painfully tight in a way that pulls my elbows together, thrusting my bare breasts out for all to marvel at.

The crowd gazing at me as my Master puts a large glass bowl with a hole in its base on a tube protruding from the ground, clearly, whatever goes in that bowl is going down that tube. My Master doesnt go easy on me as the sybian bursts to life and I start my orgasmic fuelled torture, cumming only microseconds after the first vibration, inserting the dildo having brought me to the brink, within seconds Im screaming again as I cum again and again. My Master pulls a gag out of his pocket and silences my screams as men and women surround me and the men start stroking their cocks while the women rub their clit, being told by my Master to cum in the bowl as much as they want with 4 men obliging immediately, shooting hot cum in the bowl as it flows down the tube to its destination as my eyes roll back into my head, a never-ending orgasmic hell of a day ahead.

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

“You are now a Slave, you will Submit as you are now Property.. You are now a Slave, you will Submit as you are now Property” it burns into my mind! Etching itself into my very core as my orgasms continue to crest and flow, my pussy gushing and my blue hair wet with sweat I feel something touch my tongue. Its hot, sticky and tastes weird, opening my eyes in darkness as I realize its cum, and not a small amount either, It keeps flowing into my mouth! Jamming my tongue into the tip of the tube solves nothing as my new Master has drilled holes around the tip to ensure Im getting my food, its slick and coating my throat and Im forced to keep swallowing as my mind fills with my Masters words. “ You are now a Slave, you will Submit as you are now Property.”

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

Pleasure beyond imagination, thats all I am now. Orgasm after orgasm after orgasm being torn from my pussy with reckless Abaddon with no way to stop it, you tried thrashing around but they simply added a corset and posture collar to make it more fun. Nipples clamps bring the promise of pain and white pads on my thighs speak to a different pain as they light up with electricity. Flowing from 1 pad through my pussy and to the other pad, as well as from nipple to nipple. My screaming now escaping my gag as the currents keep increasing. Orgasms followed by pain only to be dulled by the next orgasm! its endless! a sharp pain on my chest causes me to look for the source, a man holding a flogger, my abused, electrified nipples copping more punishment from a man I dont know while my Master talks to his guests. 5 men now stand, beating off to the orgasming girl before them, cumming in the very full glass bowl and showing no signs of stopping, glancing to the table of food and drinks I see a glass with blue pills in it. This is going to continue for a long time as my Master steps up to me, hard cock in hand. “you must be hungry for something” he says, removing my gag only to replace it with his throbbing cock. Fucking my throat is easy enough at this point, I have no resistance to mount from my orgasmic overload, shooting his load down my throat I swallow as I cum in turn, moaning in a mix of pain and pleasure as the cock is removed. Another cock pushes into my mouth and fucks away, its 1 of my Masters guests making use of me and after he is done the cock is replaced with a soaked pussy, the woman grinding greedily away at my tongues assault on her horny folds.

Now men and women are cumming in the offering bowl, and I see a tube leading from the sybian to above the bowl, a clear fuid running into it, Im contributing to the offerings whether I like it or not, the vibrations increasing in speed catching me off guard I moan into the current pussy sealed around my mouth as my orgasmic pace quickens, now cumming with passion I didnt know I had the fluid from my pipe beating out the cum shooting from the men and women, Im easily besting them all by myself Though they havnt spent days being edged nonstop but if I only knew where it was going I wouldn't be turned on by that. More people join the line-up to fuck my face as I continue cumming. No longer having individual orgasms, they have fused into 1 continuous orgasm pouring cum into the dildo I straddle with reinforced need, I dont want this to end, Im afraid I'll never get a chance to cum again after today my arousal heightens as my mind goes blank.

Awakening in a familiar pose, I realize Im still straddling the sybian and it still going at full speed. Having passed out, even momentarily, my senses are through the roof now as I scream into the cock now in my throat. Cum flowing freely down my dildo and into the bowl as well as down my throat. People have started to calm down around me, the drug induced haze clearing from them, but not me as they are not bolted to a sybian at max speed. 1 by 1 the partygoers leave untill its just me and my Master, and a still maxed out sybian with a stream of cum flowing into the bowl, my Master places a chair infront of me and sits, cock in hand as he plays with his throbbing meat. Taking the opportunity to look around, the house is spotless, the only mess in the room is me with a cum stained face and the bowl before me. Shooting a fresh load into the bowl my Master laughs and walks away, leaving me to moan as the sybian does what it was build to do, and then some.

With a gut full of fresh cum Im unbolted from the hellish device, unable to stand under my own strength my Master carries me to a chair and sits me down, Im amazed Im not sitting on a dildo now, but my pussy feels sadly empty now, spending all day with it inside me I now miss it dearly. My Master turning off the sybian Im led to the showers where he cleans and massages Me, my Master always knew how to reward me after such a marathon. Towelling me off Im amazed that its 8pm already, how time flies when your having fun cumming in a whirl of pleasure, my chastity belt reattached when I return to my room, my ballet boots locked on and a latex hood and gloves are added. With a kiss on your head and a simple “Goodnight my Slave” I lay in bed and instantly fall asleep.

Walking down the stairs My Master stares at a rug under a table with a smile on his face. Turning to set up the next device will be fun knowing the blue haired beauty will be done in a few days time. “Sleep well my new Slave” he mutters under his breath with a laugh.

[buckbarnesjames]

Chapter Ten

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1408

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Taglist is OPEN! Feedback is appreciated.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Erik?” you squeak out as the girls help you down from the table. You feel the alcohol evaporating from your body as you come face to face with your past. “What are you doing here?” you ask once your feet are planted firmly on the ground again. The girls take a step back, leaving you to come face with your ex-boyfriend. “I could ask you the same thing but it uh...seems pretty self explanatory,” he says, gesturing at the sash across the front of your body. “I’m actually here for a company retreat. I relocated back to the US a few months ago…” your mind begins to wander as he starts talking about his work and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes, nothing was more important to him than his work - and at one point, that had also included you. “But enough about me, you look great!” he says with an appreciative gaze that lingers a little too long, “And congratulations by the way, who's the lucky guy?” he asks, a friendly smile on his face. You look down at your fingers nervously before looking him straight in the face and answering him. “James Barnes'' you beam, mind filling with images of the man waiting for you at home. “Your boss?” he asks as something flashes in his eyes...jealous maybe? It’s gone just as quickly. “Yeah,” you smile as you think of Bucky - how he made you feel so loved, how he let you know of your importance, the way he showered you with his affection...god you missed him so much, especially at this very awkward moment. “I’m happy for you, truly...and I’m...I’m sorry I left the way I did” Erik starts to say but you put your hand up to stop him. You’d healed from the heartbreak, and hearing an apology nearly two years late was not what you wanted nor needed. “It’s fine, Erik. I’m over it...obviously” you say, gesturing - with your left hand - at the sash you’re wearing. Erik smiles wistfully at you, “Well, that’s great. I’ll see you around, Y/N” he says, giving you a friendly smile. “Yeah...see you, Erik,” You watch as he leaves. He turns back once to look at you, and you offer him a tight smile and a small wave before turning on your heels to face the girls who’d watched the whale awkward exchange from the sidelines. “You okay?” Nat asks, concern etched across her face. “I need a stiff drink” you breathe out, rubbing your forehead.

The celebratory vibes had now been dampened by your ex’s appearance and no matter how hard the girls tried to make things fun again, your mind just kept wandering. Eventually, after several strong drinks, you decided to call it a night and head back to your room. You’re changing into your pajamas when your phone buzzes. It’s a text from Bucky. You okay? Becca told me what happened. Of course she did. You take a deep breath before hitting the dial button. Bucky picks up on the second ring. “Hey,” he sighs out and you mutter a hello of your own. It’s silent for a moment, and it might just be the first awkward silence you’ve had with Bucky throughout your entire relationship. “You’re not having second thoughts are you?” he suddenly asks, his voice dripping with anxiety and you can sense his distress through the phone. “About you? Never” you reply firmly. You can feel the tension between the two of you slowly melt away as you answer him. “I’m just...it was hard facing my past like that. I shut down after him...I was afraid of being hurt again but then you...us happened. I love you, Bucky. Nothing and nobody is going to change that” you say and you hear him softly exhale. “I love you too, Y/N. So much.” You smile into the phone, Erik and the awkward interaction forgotten. “Get some sleep, doll. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You say your goodbyes to Bucky and settle into the hotel bed. You fall asleep pretty quickly, the excitement and stress of the day washing over you.

You’re reunited with Bucky late the next evening, the journey having taken longer than expected. His arms envelope you the moment you walk through the door. “God, I missed you so much” he whispers into your hair and you chuckle quietly. “I missed you too, so much” you say before pressing your lips to his. When you pull away from each other he takes a hold of your hand and wordlessly leads you to your shared bedroom, your luggage forgotten as you happily follow him. You wake the next morning to the sound of your phone vibrating against the bedside table. It’s Wanda. “Good morning, future Mrs Barnes!” she greets you and you laugh softly, trying not to disturb Bucky who is curled against your arm, his breath tickling against your skin. “Good morning to you too, Wanda” you whisper into the phone. “Oh, is Bucky still asleep? I can call back later?” she asks, anxious that she’d disturbed him. He was still her boss after all. “It’s fine, Wan. What’s up?” you ask, looking down at Bucky as he snuggles closer to you. “Well, I was thinking...considering you’ve decided you want to get married next month...which is very short notice by the way!” she says, teasingly, “we should start planning things...the dress,the cake, the florist, the venue...important details like that y’know?” she says as she rattles off the list of things you still had to do before the wedding. “Yeah, I know. How about we meet for coffee this afternoon and we can start then?” you ask, feeling Bucky finally stir from his place next to you. “Alright. I’ll see you later then” Wanda says, agreeing to your afternoon coffee plans. “See you later” you reply. You hang up and place your phone back on the bedside table before snuggling back under the covers.

“Future Mrs Barnes...I like that” Bucky says and you snap your head to look at him. He’s already looking at you, his face filled with adoration. “I thought you were still sleeping,” you laugh before it turns into a gasp as Bucky moves so that he’s hovering over you, a grin on his face. “Mrs Barnes” he whispers before capturing your lips. You melt into the kiss, your hands moving to run through his hair. He gently spreads your thighs apart and settles in between them. You lock your legs around his waist, deepening the kiss. Bucky chuckles against your mouth before peppering kisses along your jawline and down your neck. You let out a soft moan when he finds a sensitive spot. “Well, good morning to you too” you breathe out, feeling his hard length against your naked core. He growls playfully when you rake your nails down his back before pushing your sleep dress up to your waist. “Take those off” you moan, referencing his underwear. “Yes, ma’am” he says teasingly before removing the offending article of clothing. He slowly settles back in between your thighs and kisses you again, it’s slow and soft - a lazy morning kiss. You gasp softly when you feel him push his way into you and you thread your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, looking deep into his eyes as he lazily thrust in and out. You both close your eyes at the pleasure. You let out soft moans and whimpers whilst he groans, his head falling to your neck. “God, I love you” he moans out as his hand slips down to play with your clit. With a few skilled strokes of his fingers, he has you cumming around him. He works you through your orgasm with lazy thrusts before reaching his own climax. He slowly pulls out of you and moves to lie back down, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder once he’s settled. You kiss his forehead before moving out of the bed to get ready for the day ahead. “I love you too...by the way” you say cheekily before heading out of your shared room. You hear him chuckle softly as you make your way down the hallway to the guest room, where your clothes are stored.

Time to plan a wedding, you think to yourself as excited butterflies fill your stomach.

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 21

Two Weeks

Summary: Everyone prepares for the approaching Social Season

Word Count: ~4.2k

A/N: i felt especially evil writing Drake’s part, so i hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: none

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @loudbluebirdlover @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @cinnamonspongecake @queenjilian @kuladekiwi @twinkle-320 @iaminlovewithtrr @charlotteg234 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @tinkie1973 @louiseingram1208 @queencatherynerhys @pens-girl-87 @missevabean @ladyangel70 @sanchita012 @cordonianprincess @liamandneca @cordonia-gothqueen​ @pink-diamond13​

I’m sorry, the tags are being weird and I don’t know if they’re working or not… but I hope I got everyone down! If I missed someone, or anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know :)

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- Maxwell - 

The baby blossoms were improving in their lessons perfectly, and no one was prouder than Liam. Him and Maxwell would sit with the children through lessons, making sure they understood the basics. True, they couldn’t teach the children everything in two weeks, but they needed to know how to act like royalty for the Social Season.  

Maxwell had asked Liam how his dinner with Riley went. The man was ecstatic to say that she was giving him a chance. Maxwell was happy for his friend, but hoped that neither of them would do anything to mess it up. 

Maxwell tired to come up with ways that Riley and Liam could spend time with each other, but whenever the baby blossoms came into their view, they began to worry about the court voicing their opinions about the children. 

Riley and Rowan tried to help the children in terms of memorizing etiquette. By the end of the week, both children knew enough to pass by as royalty. Liam voiced his relief that the children wouldn’t be in the spotlight too much, considering the fact that they weren’t expected to participate in certain events. 

Maxwell had tried to spend more time with Rowan, but the woman was also stressed about what she was going to do in front of the nobility. Even though she followed along in the baby blossoms’ lessons, she pointed out that expectations would be different for a grown woman compared to two small children. 

And even after dinner, when he tried to sneak a moment alone with her, Bertrand would always find him lurking in a corner and would reprimand Maxwell.

After Maxwell and Bartie walked the baby blossoms through what was expected of them behavior-wise, and after Hana taught them some traditional dances, Olivia declared that it was time to teach them self defense.

“Is that... necessary?” Hana asks. 

“With the previous attack on the palace,” Olivia begins. “It would be better for them to know something rather than nothing.” 

“Is the situation truly so serious?” Hana turns to Liam. 

His eyebrows furrow. “Truth be told, I don’t know. The investigations are still ongoing, but so far they’ve found nothing.”

“Don’t you think people may avoid participating in the season out of fear?” Hana continues to ask.

“Perhaps, but I’ve increased security to ensure the safety of the guests.” 

“And thus another reason why the King’s Guard cannot teach them,” Olivia starts up again, referring to the children. “They must protect the palace grounds and continue their investigation. Whoever those thieves are, they better not get away.” 

Liam’s phone rings, and he leaves the room. Hana says she’ll go check on Riley, and so Maxwell, Rowan, and Olivia are left with the children.

“So.” Olivia turns to them. “Answer me this. An intruder has broken into your home in the middle of the night. You open your door to see that they are coming towards you with a knife. What do you do?” 

“Hide!” Ella claims. 

“False.” Olivia states. 

“Um... run away?” Gabriel tries.

“Wrong again. Cowardice is never the answer,” Olivia tells them. 

“So... are we supposed to... fight back?” Gabriel asks. 

“But we’re just kids,” Ella argues. 

Rowan leans towards Maxwell and whispers, “She’s got a point. Maybe they shouldn’t be learning about this.” 

“You can use that to your advantage,” Olivia states. “There’s a chance the intruder wouldn’t hurt a child, so you will take their moment of hesitation to attack.” 

“Attack?” Gabe’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks, and Maxwell can’t help but notice how similar the action is to what Liam does. “So we can... hit them with a baseball bat?” 

“Or kick something at them? Ou! Can we just kick them?” Ella adds. 

“Precisely!” Olivia smiles at the children. “Though it would be better to get the job done with a sharp object.”

“Like a knife?” Gabriel questions. 

“Yes, and today I will be teaching you both how to effectively use a knife to defend yourselves.” 

“Mama said I’m not allowed to use knives anymore,” Eleanor tells the group.

“And why is that?” Olivia puts her hands on her hips.

“Because of what happened last Thanksgiving.” 

“And what transpired on the last giving of thanks?” 

“I chased Gabe with the knife we were supposed to use to cut the turkey.”

A smile plasters over Olivia’s face. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” 

A flash of childish fear crosses Gabriel’s face, and Rowan pats him on the shoulder.

“Now,” Olivia begins. From different spots in her dress, she removes a series of extremely sharp knives. “Pick one to use.” 

“Uh, no,” Rowan interjects. “We won’t be doing that. These are literal children, Lady Olivia.” 

Olivia rolls her eyes. “Fine. I brought wooden knives, too, but they’re in my room.” She retreats to go get them. 

Maxwell leans into the group, making them all huddle together. “You know what we should do, baby blossoms?” The children shake their heads. “Follow me.” 

Maxwell leads them behind the staircase towards the wall of weapons. 

“Wow,” Rowan exclaims. “Exactly why does your family have this?” She holds in a laugh.

“Are these the knives Duchess Olivia wants us to use?” Gabriel asks. 

“No,” Maxwell answers him. “But wouldn’t it be fun to use them?” 

The children look towards Rowan, and she laughs. “We can hold them, but no swinging them around, okay?” 

“Okay!” Ella exclaims, reaching for the double sided sword. It’s a little heavy for her, but she manages to hold it up. 

Rowan grabs the dagger, and Gabriel settles for the sword.

Maxwell lifts the flail from the wall, and before he can say anything else, he turns to see Eleanor leading everyone back to the ballroom. 

Once they’re inside, they wait for Olivia, but something catches Maxwell’s eye. 

“You okay?” Rowan asks. 

“Look!” Maxwell walks towards a table, where a phone pokes out from under a handkerchief. “It’s Drake’s phone.” 

“Should we give it back to him?” Gabriel asks. 

Maxwell sighs, and regards the phone in his hands. “Probably.” He looks towards Rowan and the baby blossoms, a mischievous look in his eyes. “But first...”

Before he can finish the sentence, Rowan starts giggling. Through the laugh she manages, “If you say, ‘Let me take a selfie,’ I’m taking the weapons away.” 

Maxwell pouts at her. “Fine, I won’t say it, but can we take at least one?” 

He can tell that the situation is amusing to her, but Rowan glances at the children and agrees.

They all pose, and Maxwell takes the picture. Rowan takes the phone and puts it back where they found it from, while Maxwell takes everyone’s weapons and goes to put it back on the wall. 

When he comes back, the baby blossoms each have a wooden sword in their hands. Maxwell notices that they look very similar to the wooden sword Olivia had when she was a child. 

“—Since these are now yours’, you can name them whatever you want.” Maxwell hears her tell them. 

“So...” Eleanor closely regards her sword. “If I name it ‘Gabe’... does that mean I can do this?” She turns to hit her brother’s shoulder with the sword repeatedly, and chants, “Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!”

Gabriel protests, and tries to back away from her, but Eleanor follows him, giggling. 

“Stop! Wait! Give me a second!” The boy protests.

“Get it together, Gabriel!” Olivia calls to him from the sidelines. “You’re losing!”

“Yay!” Eleanor screams. 

“Watch your footing!” Olivia directs. “Widen your stance!” 

Soon, both of the baby blossoms are hitting each other’s wooden swords. They use all of their energy, until Gabriel finally backs away in a coughing fit.

Liam rushes in, having finished his phone call. He goes to Gabriel’s side and tells him to sit down. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the boy states. 

“Alright.” Liam sighs. “I wanted to make sure.”

“Are you here to get a wooden sword, too?” Eleanor asks him. 

Liam chuckles, looking down at her and ruffling the girl’s hair. “No.” His smile falters as he continues, “I came to say goodbye. I have to return to the palace for a few days, but will be back soon.” 

“Aww,” Eleanor whines. She hugs Liam’s waist, and he kneels down to wrap her in his arms. He does the same to Gabriel, who, to Maxwell’s shock and relief, hugs his father back. 

Liam nods at Olivia, Maxwell, and Rowan on his way out. 

After he’s out of sight, Olivia turns back to the children. “Alright, where were we?” 

- Drake - 

Though he was turned away from her, Drake heard Jessica get out of bed. Her phone had vibrated from under her pillow, and she grabbed it and left the room. 

Jessica had asked Drake to return to his cabin for at least one evening, since she wanted to spend time with him away from the rest of his friends. He assumed that Jessica didn’t like his friends’ company, and that upset him. But there was barely a week left until the Social Season; he didn’t want her to be anxious about having to be in the presence of the nobility, so he was willing to spend time alone with Jessica to make her feel more at ease.

He gets out of bed and combs through a small pile of his and Jessica’s clothes that they had thrown to the side. Drake puts her dress on the edge of the bed and grabs his pants. His heartbeat quickens for a moment as he feels the pockets for the ring box. Looking over his shoulder towards the door, he saw Jessica texting away with a blanket draped over her. Drake opens the ring box, and eyes his grandmother’s ring, then turns again to Jessica. 

Not the time, he thinks to himself, putting it back into his pants pocket. 

After he finishes putting on the rest of his clothes, he goes into the kitchen to get himself something to eat. He’s about to ask Jessica who she’s texting, but before he can get near her, she bolts up and says she’s going to go use the bathroom. 

He looks through the fridge and some cabinets. Finding nothing, he decides it wouldn’t be so bad if they went out to eat. 

Drake hears the door to the bathroom open, and Jessica reappears wearing one of his shirts and a small pair of shorts with her hair tied up. He wonders where she got them from, but remembers that some of her clothes were still in his house. 

She gives him a peck on the cheek and goes to open the fridge. 

“What do you think about going out to eat?” he asks her. “Haven’t done the groceries in a while.” 

“Go out?” she starts. Jessica pouts, and Drake feels sorry for upsetting her. “But I look a mess!”  

He smiles and shakes his head. She would never understand her own beauty. No matter what she wore or what she did, she looked perfectly put together. He took a moment to look at her in awe, allowing her image to bless his eyes: her skin was soft and clear, even though she had been sweaty moments before. Her hair looked effortlessly elegant. She could throw on some jeans and would be better put together than half of the women Drake had dated.

“What if we go eat with Papa?” Jessica suggests, referring to her father. “He’s been wanting to see you for a while.” 

“Sure,” Drake says. Jessica leaves the room to go get ready. He had met Jessica’s father a few times, and the man reminded Drake of his own father. As snarky as Jackson Walker, and just as supportive of his children. Out of respect he always referred to Jessica’s father as Mr. Ariti. Drake enjoyed the man’s company, and was always pleased to hear from Jessica that her father enjoyed spending time with him as well. 

Drake walks towards the bathroom, wanting to freshen himself up. He hears the shower running and finds the door locked. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he scrolls through his phone while waiting for her. He finds an image of Maxwell posing with Rowan, Gabriel, and Eleanor, each of them holding a medieval weapon. Drake wonders how they got into his phone. 

He continues to scroll and eventually finds a picture he took of Jessica when they went camping together a few years ago. The light from the fire had make her dark skin look like glass, and he had wanted to capture the moment of her raw beauty. She was looking away from the camera, towards the sky. Drake usually felt comfortable in her presence, ever since the day he first met her. There was nothing complicated about this woman; her emotions were always in check and there was rarely anything that troubled her. Even when she was dealing with family issues and her father’s declining health, Drake had never seen her cry. He believed there was a sense of power in that: she knew which topics were deserving of her tears and which weren’t, and even the things that irritated her she solved effortlessly.

But lately the two of them seemed more out of sync than not. Even tonight Drake felt that he wasn’t near her, even though she was always close enough to touch. He thinks that they may just be having one of those days, and tries to forget about it. 

She comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her phone tightly clasped in her hand. Jessica doesn’t look at Drake, and begins going through drawers to find something to wear. 

He takes a quick shower, and wears his usual denim outfit before Jessica is ready. He waits for her for a few more minutes, until finally she comes out of the room and they leave. 

They take her Jeep. She brought them to a large apartment building in the capital. They park, and the doorman greets them by name, then quickly rings a phone call up to Mr. Ariti to tell him that his daughter was here to visit him. 

The elevator door opens at the twelfth floor, and Jessica leads him down a small hallway. After they knock, Mr. Ariti’s nurse opens the door and greets Jessica with a kiss on the cheek.

The women move aside for Drake, and he smells something cooking from the kitchen. Mr. Ariti’s dog, a rottweiler named Elsa, runs at Drake to greet him.

Mr. Ariti’s apartment was small and luxuriously decorated. He had told Drake that it was Jessica and her mother who had the stylish inclinations, but looking around the room at the decorative sculptures and oil paintings, he couldn’t tell what type of person had decorated the room. Drake felt slightly out of place here, but he enjoyed Mr. Ariti’s company.

Mr. Ariti sits on the couch in the living room, and when he sees Drake, he uses all his strength to stand and greet him. Drake rushes forward, helping Mr. Ariti balance himself. The old man gives him a pat on the back, and they sit down. 

Jessica sits next to Drake, and she entertains them by telling both men about a trip she had come back from a few weeks ago. “Oh, I’ve yet to tell you about this trip, darling,” she tells Drake. It was another trip to a Greek island. She took one about every two months, and it was a different island every time. 

Before she can continue, Mr. Ariti’s nurse comes up to tell him that the doorman is on the intercom in the kitchen. Mr. Ariti has a difficult time standing up, so Drake offers him his arm and follows the nurse into the kitchen. 

Once they stand next to the intercom, Drake hears the doorman say, “Mr. Ariti? Yes... he’s here again.”

“He? Who’s he?” the old man asks. 

The nurse speaks up and tells him, “You know who he’s talking about, Mr. Ariti, the...” She eyes Drake. “The businessman.”

“Sir,” the doorman speaks from the intercom again. “He says he wishes to come up.” 

“No,” Mr. Ariti says. “I don’t care, don’t let him up. Keep him downstairs.” 

“Yes, sir,” the doorman says from the intercom. 

Mr. Ariti turns back to Drake, and he begins leading the old man to the dining table where the nurse had started putting dinner. 

“Everything alright?” Drake asks him. 

“Yes, yes.” The old man waves at him dismissively. “Just some fool who won’t leave us alone.”

Suddenly Jessica opens the door, claiming that she was going to take Elsa for a walk around the block.

A frost of displeasure crosses Mr. Ariti’s face. They hear the door click shut as she leads the dog out of the apartment, and Mr. Ariti asks Drake to sit down.

They begin to eat, and Drake respectfully listens to Mr. Ariti talk about his day, the situation that arose with one of his neighbors, and something his doctor told him. When they’re done with their meal and laughing with one another, Jessica finally reappears. She takes a seat next to Drake and serves herself some cold pasta. 

The men continue to talk while Jessica eats. She laughs along to her father’s jokes, and then when she finishes, turns to Drake. 

“Darling, I meant to tell you,” she begins. “I won’t be able to make it to the Masquerade Ball.” 

“You changed your mind about the Social Season?” Drake asks, slightly relieved. 

“No, silly.” She giggles. “Something’s come up. If I were to attend, I would have to leave early, so it’s best not to attend at all. Oh, don’t look at me like that, darling.” She laces Drake’s fingers through her own. “Didn’t you tell me that Countess Hana said her husband will be making a late appearance as well? Well mine won’t be quite as late.” She leans forward to kiss Drake’s cheek. “I’m participating in the season because I want to support you, darling. I know how you dislike the nobility’s company, so I know how much a friendly face will mean to you.” 

Drake leans towards her to kiss her, and Jessica turns back to her meal. 

After she finishes eating, Mr. Ariti says that the two of them better get home before it becomes to late, and he makes Drake promise to visit again soon. 

While Jessica and Drake ride the elevator down to the lobby, Jessica speaks up: “Papa looked upset today, don’t you think?” 

Drake agrees, and suggests that the man was probably tired. 

“You know what I think we should do, darling?” 

He turns to look at her, wondering what she was thinking of.

Finally, Jessica turns to look at him. “Marry.” 

Drake’s heart stops for a moment. Did she just propose? Wasn’t I thinking about doing that just hours before? What had stopped me from doing it then? And why’s she asking this now?

“Sh- should we?” he asks, utterly confused as to what was happening. 

“Yes, please! I think it would make Papa so happy.” 

She grabs his hand and leads him out of the elevator and towards her car. Drake feels as if he’s never felt so baffled in his life. Jessica turns on the radio, and Drake can’t hear himself think through the music. He can still feel his grandmother’s ring in his pocket. Should I give it to her now? He hears Jessica humming along to the music, and Drake doesn’t know what to do. 

She drops him off in front of his cabin, and says she'll go home to her own apartment since she has some things to settle in the morning. She leans over to kiss him goodbye. 

In a haze, Drake walks into his house and towards his bed and falls onto it, wondering what had just happened, and what that meant since his feelings for Jessica were still uncertain.

- Savannah - 

The Social Season was fast approaching, and the day of Liam’s press conference — the one where he would introduce Gabriel to the people — had arrived before anyone realized it. 

Liam and Gabriel had left for the capital early in the morning. Gabriel’s things were packed, and Liam assured Riley that he would help the boy get settled. When Riley had said that Eleanor could not go with, both children were upset, and Eleanor was still anxious hours later.

Everyone’s things were packed as well. Riley’s doctor would return tonight to take off her cast, so they would leave early in the morning for the Masquerade Ball, but they were all currently sitting in front of the TV to watch the press conference. They each sat on a couch, huddled around the TV. Drake was the only one that stood at the edge of the room. Savannah motions for him to come sit next to her, but Drake shakes his head. She wonders what happened to her brother, and guesses it may have something to do with the visit he gave Jessica last week.

Throughout the past two weeks, there were more cases of stolen art around Europe, specifically in France and Austria. Museums all throughout the continent shut down in fear of more incidents, and some nobles expressed their worries to King Liam. More and more news articles surfaced, asking if the King was going to let priceless works of Cordonian artists be stolen, and not fight for them back?

And so the topic of the press conference changed. Liam told Riley and the rest of them that he would be introducing Gabriel to the people, but he would also try to answer their questions and concerns about the stolen art. 

They watch the screen as Liam and Gabriel are led by guards up to a small platform in front of the palace. The crowd cheers for their monarch, and possibly for the heir as well. Both wear formal outfits, and Savannah notices that Gabriel’s shoulders are oddly tense.

As King Liam stops walking and turns to face the crowd, he smiles down at his son. Gabriel turns, and his face is slightly pale. He gives the crowd a tight smile and a nod. They continue to cheer. 

Liam walks up to the microphone and speaks: “People of Cordonia, it is my humble honor to introduce you to my son, the heir, Gabriel Liam Rys.” His voice drowns out as the crowd cheers again. The crowd continues to cheer for a few moments, but their cries of joy become a roar of people talking over one another. Cameras zoom in towards people’s faces, and they can hear questions being shouted.

“How do we know important historical artifacts are safe?” 

“Cordonia’s history goes back hundred of thousands of years! All that could be lost because you don’t know where to put your military!” 

“Get off your high horse! Our art has to do with our national pride!”

“You cared for the orchard, so care about this, too!”

“I thought you said you were going to honor our history?” 

“What kind of King lets his country’s history get lost like that?” 

“Get the Queen Mother’s goblets back!” 

“Cordonia’s history could be wiped away by some clever thieves, what the Hell are you going to do about it?!”

Guards manage to quiet the crowd, and Liam allows Ana de Luca to speak. 

“Your Majesty,” she begins. “On behalf of Cordonias everywhere, I just want to say that we are elated at the news of the heir.” Gabriel gives a wide smile. “But we need to know, what measures are being taken to make sure that Cordonia’s precious artifacts stay safe? Surely you understand the historical significance of these pieces, and the honor that comes with them?”  

“Thank you, Miss de Luca,” Liam answers. “I understand the people’s concern. Rest assured that I have the best people our country has to offer on this case. We will find the perpetrators soon, and bring them to justice. I’ve increased security in the palace, as well as in Cordonian museums. They would not dare strike again.” 

The crowd begins screaming again, and Bastien walks up to Liam and whispers in his ear. Liam walks away with Gabriel trailing slightly behind.

Maxwell turns the TV off. “Wow.”

“Didn’t know it was that serious,” Rowan states. 

“Cordonians are more worried than I expected them to be.” Hana looks around the group. 

“The Social Season should take their minds off of this,” Bertrand states, standing up. 

After a few seconds, Olivia states: “I trust Liam to handle it. They’re simply a few petty art thieves.”

“They probably fight with paint brushes.” Maxwell whispers over to Eleanor and Rowan, both of who begin to giggle. 

“This is simply a small hiccup,” Bertrand continues. “I’m sure they’ll find something. In the meantime, it would be best that we all finished getting ready. Lady Riley, your doctor should arrive within the hour. Eleanor, if you would come with me, I would like you and Bartie to review your table manners.” 

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Three

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Three

Jace woke with the sun just barely beginning to filter through his bedroom window. He’d been half-afraid, half-hopeful that he’d wake to find he and Simon had gravitated toward each other in the night, but they each remained firmly on their sides of the bed, a scant few inches between them.

They had, however, shifted slightly. Simon had kicked the covers off in the night, or maybe Jace had stolen them, and Simon was curled toward the center of the bed, facing Jace, one hand tucked beneath his cheek. His curls stuck out at odd angles, and there was a faint damp patch of drool on the pillow beneath him. Jace thought it was oddly endearing. Either that, or he was completely losing his mind. Probably both. Either way, he needed to get the hell out of bed before he did something really stupid, like reaching out to straighten those curls, or just continuing to lie here staring like some love-struck supermarket romance novel heroine.

Making as little noise as possible, Jace made his way out of bed and pulled on some actual clothes, including the very silly, but very soft reindeer-adorned sweater Izzy had given him for Christmas last year.

“How is it morning already?” Simon’s voice was muffled, and Jace refused to look over and see him looking, no doubt, adorable and far too right in that bed.

“The inexorable march of time,” Jace told him. “I was just going to head down and see about starting some coffee if Iz hasn’t already.”

“Gimme just a second and I’ll come with you,” Simon said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Clary swears your sister’s coffee is amazing and almost makes it worth getting up as early as she does.”

“Nothing is worth getting up when Izzy does,” Jace told him, folding his arms and looking pointedly away while Simon changed. “But she does make some damned good coffee. I’m not sure how she manages to do that when she’s such a disaster with everything else in the kitchen.”

“That’s like the opposite of my sister. Becky is a great cook, but she can never brew a pot of coffee without getting grounds in it. Which is kind of messed up considering how much of it she drinks.”

“Is that where you get your caffeine addiction from?” Jace asked, risking a glance over at Simon for the sake of treating him to a mocking raised eyebrow. He was just in time to catch the last sliver of toned abs disappearing beneath the hem of a Yoda sweatshirt.

“Pretty sure we both get it from Mom.” Simon grinned at him, offering his hand. “Ready when you are, sweetheart.”

“Then let’s get a move on, sugar bear.”

They were greeted with Izzy’s singsong “Good morning!” as they descended the stairs. Clary, feet tucked up beneath her on the couch and leaning heavily into her girlfriend as she sipped her coffee, offered them a sleepy wave.

“About time,” Max muttered from where he sat, engrossed in his phone at the end of the opposite couch.

Jace should have known something was up from the way Izzy watched them as they made their way downstairs, should have felt the telltale dread he always felt at her slowly growing Cheshire Cat grin. But he hadn’t had his first cup of coffee, and he hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and he was still maybe just a little distracted by that tempting glimpse he’d gotten of Simon’s abs.

So, he was taken entirely surprised at Izzy’s half-shouted, “Stop!”

It was only after he’d obeyed on instinct that he saw the danger, saw a hint of Izzy’s manic smile reflected in the smirk Clary gave Simon.

“Look up,” Clary instructed.

Jace did, and then turned a flat stare on his sister. “Iz. Did you really get up before everyone else just so you could catch us under the mistletoe?”

“It’s not supposed to be for you,” Izzy said dismissively. “And Max was up before me, anyway.” Her grin grew. “But as long as you’re there.”

Jace glanced at Simon. They hadn’t actually talked about kissing since that brief, interrupted discussion in the cafe back in Boston, when Jace had promised to follow Simon’s lead. He hadn’t thought they’d end up under this kind of pressure, though, and the last thing he wanted was for Simon to feel like he didn’t have any other option than kissing Jace.

He turned back toward his sister. “Iz—”

His protest was interrupted by a pair of guitar-calloused hands cupping his face and drawing him into a gentle kiss. It barely lasted a second, not even long enough for Jace to really register it until it was already over, but Jace still missed the feel of Simon’s lips on his own as soon as it ended.

“All right,” Simon said. “We’ve satisfied your prurient interests, now tell me where to find coffee.”

“Big, brushed steel pot on the counter in the far right corner of the kitchen,” Izzy told him. “I’m glad at least you’re fun in the morning, even if Jace isn’t.”

“There’s still time for me to return your present, you know,” Jace told her.

“Nuh-uh. It’s Christmas, stores are all closed.”

“Are they always like this?” Simon asked Clary.

“Always,” she confirmed.

“No, they’re usually much worse,” Alec said as he and Magnus descended the stairs. “This is Iz and Jace on their best behavior.”

“Stick around long enough that they start thinking of you as family and the gloves will come off,” Magnus added with an exaggerated shudder.

Izzy didn’t even have a chance to point out the mistletoe before Alec was leaning in to give his fiancé a soft kiss. “You are family.”

Jace wasn’t sure they’d even noticed the mistletoe.

“Technically, not for another five months,” Magnus said. “Which reminds me, I need to call the florist back this week.”

“Already taken care of,” Alec assured him. “Even if I’m still not entirely clear on what a gladiolus is.”

“I only know that Scott Joplin wrote a rag named after them,” Simon said. “Which, I am realizing is completely beside the point. I’m going to go get that coffee.”

He turned to Jace. “You grab us some good seats, and I’ll bring you a cup.”

A few minutes later, everyone had a cup of coffee (even Max, although the cup Alec made for him was mostly milk and sugar), and Izzy had started a new pot brewing. Jace sipped his coffee contentedly as Simon gave an excited play-by-play of the winter concert to Clary, who apparently hadn’t heard the full story of the Great Harpsichord Mishap yet.

Jace, who had heard the story three times already, found his mind wandering back to that kiss. Which was stupid, because it wasn’t even that remarkable a kiss. Just a quick press of lips, really. Objectively speaking, he’d had better kisses. Many of them. It made no sense that he would be so hung up on this one, especially since it had clearly been no big deal to Simon. And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the soft warmth of Simon’s lips, the way the callouses on Simon’s fingertips caught just slightly on the stubble along his jawline.

Luke joined them not long after the fresh pot of coffee finished brewing, bypassing the mistletoe trap by virtue of having stayed in the guest room on the first floor.

“Mom is taking too long,” Max announced as Luke returned to the living room with his own mug of coffee. “We should wake her up.”

“Max,” Alec chastised.

“What happened to being twelve now, buddy?” Jace teased.

“I want to open presents before I turn thirteen,” Max answered flatly.

“Your mother was up late getting things ready for today,” Luke said. “You should let her sleep.”

Max gave him a long look, then rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his phone.

“And how exactly would you know Maryse was up late?” Clary asked with an obviously feigned innocent curiosity.

“Because I stayed up to help her,” Luke said, leveling his stepdaughter with a look that said that was the end of the conversation. Clary’s feigned innocence turned to a more obvious smirk, but she let it drop.

By the time Maryse made her way down the stairs almost an hour later, Max was practically vibrating with impatience, although he was clearly trying not to show it.

And so was Izzy, although she was far less obvious about it. At least until she gasped in faux shock, “Oh no, Mom! Looks like you’re standing right underneath some mistletoe. Guess you’re going to have to kiss someone.”

She and Clary turned expectant smiles toward Luke, who returned a flat look and an equally flat, “Really?”

“Isabelle,” Maryse said in the tone of voice that usually preceded a lecture, “it’s impolite to make assumptions about people’s personal lives, or to try to trick them into revealing personal details they might not be ready to share.”

Izzy had the grace to look chagrined. “Sorry, Mama.”

“You’re forgiven,” Maryse said. “See that it doesn’t happen again.” She turned to Luke. “Lucian, are you just going to sit there or are you going to get over here and kiss me good morning.”

Izzy clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her excited shriek as a laughing Luke walked over and let Maryse drag him into the sort of kiss Jace would never have expected her to give anyone in front of her children.

“Gross,” Max muttered. He had the sense not to say it loud enough for Maryse or Izzy to hear, but Jace kicked his foot and gave him a disapproving shake of his head.

“As you’ve probably gathered, and some of you clearly already guessed,” Maryse said, giving Izzy a pointed look, “Lucian and I have been seeing each other.” “

“We were planning to tell you after the holidays,” Luke added, “but I guess there’s no point in waiting now, is there?”

“We all kind of guessed,” Alec admitted. “And we couldn’t be happier for you.”

“You guys were pretty obvious,” Clary said.

“Super obvious,” Izzy agreed.

“Now can we open presents?” Max asked.

~~~

“Congratulations,” Jace said the next morning, as Simon was packing the last of his things back into his suitcase. “You survived an entire Lightwood Christmas celebration.”

“It was surprisingly less dramatic than I’d been led to believe it would be,” Simon said. “Except maybe the mistletoe thing. For a second there, I thought Luke was ready to strangle Clary.”

“Izzy’s the one he should be annoyed at,” Jace said. “I’m sure she talked Clary into helping her set that up.”

“Uh-uh, no way,” Simon insisted. “I know a Clary Fray plan when I see one, and that had her metaphorical fingerprints all over it.”

“Izzy’s too. I guess the rest of us will have to watch our backs with the two of them together.” He paused. “About the mistletoe thing. We’re okay, right?”

“Huh?” Simon threw him a confused glance. “Of course we are.” He frowned. “Unless... I didn’t overstep, did I? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know we never finished our discussion, and I didn’t even ask before I kissed you, I just thought—”

“Simon,” Jace interrupted. “It’s fine. I told you, I’m happy to follow your lead. I just wanted to make sure Iz and Clary didn’t pressure you into it. But as far as I’m concerned, you can kiss me whenever you want.”

For just an instant, Simon’s frown seemed to morph into something that was almost speculative, and Jace wondered if he’d given too much away. But it was gone so quickly he thought he might have imagined it, replaced by an easy smile.

“Cool. I’ll keep that in mind in case we get ambushed with any more mistletoe.”

It took Simon almost twenty minutes to get out the door once he made it downstairs. Clary wanted to nail down plans for getting together later in the week, and Max kept trying to convince Simon to stay a little longer and play the new video game they’d spent half the previous afternoon playing together.

“Max,” Jace said finally, “Simon needs to go spend time with his own family. If you want, I can play with you.”

Max considered him, then shook his head. “You haven’t got the combos down yet. You’re too easy to beat. But I guess I could teach you. If you want.”

“Sure,” Jace told him. “Why don’t you go get it set up while I help Simon take his stuff to the car.”

Max ran off without even bothering to say goodbye, and Jace shook his head. “I don’t know where that kid got his lack of manners.”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Simon said, giving him a pointed look. “But I can be magnanimous about it, since he recognizes my clear video game superiority.”

“One day on a new game does not a champion make,” Jace told him. “We’ll see who’s got video game superiority when we get back home.”

“I’ve got an even better idea,” Clary interjected. “What about a game of Land Mines at Magnus’s New Year’s Eve party? Me and Simon against you and Izzy.”

“Oh,” Simon said, throwing an uncertain look at Jace. “Magnus’s party?”

They hadn’t talked about the New Year’s Eve party. Jace had thought about inviting Simon, had thought about inviting him even before they’d agreed to play each other’s boyfriends, but he figured Simon already had plans with his own friends and family. And now, it seemed too much to ask if it meant Simon spending New Year’s Eve having to pretend to be his boyfriend.

“You are coming, right?” Clary asked, looking between Simon and Jace with clear concern. “We always spend New Year’s Eve together. Unless you guys made other plans?”

“No!” Simon said quickly, avoiding looking at Jace. “No, of course I’ll be there. Obviously. I’m just, you know, not sure kicking Jace’s ass at Land Mines is worth the hangover.”

“The part where you’re worried about your hangover means we’ve already won,” Jace said, hating the way that Simon wouldn’t look at him. He’d have to find a way to make this up to him. “Not that you’ve ever beat me at a drinking game.”

“That’s only because I don’t play them,” Simon said, finally meeting his eyes with a forced smile. “I’ve watched Maia and Lily both drink you under the table, though, so I think I’ve got a pretty good shot, especially with Fray on my team.”

“You only say that because you’ve never seen Iz drink,” Jace told him. “I’ve definitely got the advantage when it comes to partners.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Simon’s smile was less forced now, falling back into their usual banter.

“Uh huh,” Jace said, unimpressed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Now get going before your mom decides she hates me for making you late before I even get the chance to meet her.”

“You’re cute and occasionally charming. She’ll love you,” Simon told him, but he picked up his bag anyway and started to head toward his van. Then he stopped and threw a quick glance at Clary, who still stood beside Jace in the doorway, before dropping his bag and strode the three steps back up to Jace to pull him into a kiss.

This kiss wasn’t fleeting like their kiss under the mistletoe had been. Jace had plenty of time to register what was happening as Simon’s mouth moved against his, enough time to relax into it. Enough time to get just a little lost and pull Simon closer.

When Simon pulled back from the kiss, he left behind the warmth of a sharp exhale against Jace’s lips. Jace opened his eyes to find Simon watching him with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll text you later,” Simon said.

“Yeah,” Jace agreed, hoping Simon couldn’t hear the faint unsteadiness in his voice.

“And I’ll see you,” Simon pointed at Clary, who Jace had momentarily forgotten was even there, “day after tomorrow.”

Right. Clary. That’s why Simon had kissed him. Because it would have been weird for him to leave without kissing his boyfriend goodbye. Jace stepped back, putting some much-needed space between the two of them.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Clary said.

Simon flashed Jace a quick smile before turning and taking his bag out to his van.

“Come on,” Clary said, linking her arm with Jace’s and tugging him back inside. “I need to go tell my girlfriend that I volunteered her to get trounced at Land Mines.”

“Please,” Jace said, doing his best to push everything that had just happened out of his mind. “You know you’re going to lose. Just admit it now and save yourself the embarrassment.”