#winterizing your motorcycle

[smileysuh]

crossroads

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu & Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. If one neighbour is a Doberman, then the other is a Golden Retriever. They’re like night and day, and yet, you’re drawn to both, as if some gravitational or celestial power is pulling you to them… it also helps that they both have motorcycles. How had it been so easy to ghost Wonwoo in the past, only to find yourself at a crossroads with his roommate seven months later?

tw/cw. Threesome, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, big dick Mingyu, creampie, oral (f/m receiving), blow job, deep throating, hand job, Eiffel tower/spit roasting, breast worship, nipple pinching, nipple licking, panty kink, eating pussy through panties, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, dirty talk, ‘sir’, dom!Wonwoo, switch!mingyu, blindfold/sensory deprivation, voyeurism, listening to your neighbour have sex, masturbation, reader reads erotica, mutual masturbation, slight dacryphilia, blindfold/sensory deprivation, inklings of humiliation, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel, baby. (Mingyu’s) gyu. (Wonwoo’s) sir. 

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.8k

🍭 aus. Biker!meanie, booktok!reader, neighbours!au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. This was not supposed to be this long. I don’t know how this happened. 

Prologue 

“Who keeps messaging you?” your cousin asks, trying to act nonchalant as he sips his margarita, but you can feel his eyes on you as you stare at your phone.

“The Harley dude,” you sigh, quickly reading the text message.

“The guy who missed your first date because he was napping?” Jeonghan nearly chokes on his drink, setting it down in favor of flashing you a judgemental look.

“Yeah, the same guy who also tried to rebook our first date as a group ride night with all his friends,” you roll your own eyes at the stupidity of men. While the idea is fun, it’s not the way to get to know someone new. 

Jeonghan lets out a low whistle. “Sheesh.”

“You can say that again.” You set your phone down, grabbing at your bellini, and relaxing against the patio chair, trying to soak up the sunshine in an effort to calm yourself.

“Well? What did he say?” your cousin presses.

“He said his entire week is free if I want to meet up.”

“And what did you say?” 

“Nothing.” You tip your head back, letting out a contented breath. “He had two chances, I’m not about to give him a third.”

“Summer is almost over,” Jeonghan points out. “I know you wanted to find some hot dude with a motorcycle and ride off into the sunset. You’re getting low on time.”

“Honestly, Hannie? This Jeon guy is not worth it.”

One

After a long winter, it’s finally getting warm enough that you can open your apartment windows and enjoy the fresh air. Trees are beginning to blossom, birds are singing songs that act as white noise while you sit at your dining table completing the last few emails for your remote job.

As you’re finishing up your very last correspondence of the day, new noises join in with the robbins and wrens. These noises, however, are nowhere near as pleasant.

There’s a banging outside your door, a few thumps, and a distinctly male voice cursing. 

Living in a fairly quiet apartment complex, these sorts of sounds aren’t something you’re used to, and they can only mean one thing; your landlord finally found new tenants for the two-bedroom next door that’s been vacant for over a month. 

With a sigh, you close your laptop, wrapping your sweater tightly around your body as you venture toward your door. You can’t help the curiosity bubbling inside of you, and after another deep breath, you decide to take a peak into the hallway beyond.

Two men are struggling to get a couch through the doorway into unit 317. You stay silent, watching the way one man’s biceps bulge with each maneuver. His hair is on the longer side, dark strands licking and curling at his throat, which is covered in a light sheen of sweat from the effort of moving. 

“Come on Cheol, we’re almost there,” he encourages the man holding up the other end of the sofa. 

“Fuck you, Mingyu,” the other says, stepping back into the apartment and out of your view.

You wait patiently, and after a minute or so, the pretty man moves into the hallway again, giving you a full view of his face. He lets out a deep breath, shaking out his muscular arms- that’s when his eyes meet yours, and you swear your heart skips a beat in your chest.

His mouth curves into a wide grin. “Hi! Sorry if we bugged you with the noise- that couch was not making moving easy.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him quickly. “You must be my new neighbours.” Your gaze shifts past him to the second man, who has appeared in the hallway too.

“Nah- I mean, I am, but this is Cheol, he’s just a friend,” the pretty man tries to explain, stopping in front of you. He wipes his hand along his jean leg, then holds it out to you, “I’m Mingyu.”

You allow him to shake your hand. Despite his attempt to wipe some of the sweat away, his palm is still a little clammy, although, you’re shocked to find that the physical contact isn’t unpleasant. 

You tell him your name, watching Cheol trudge past you to the elevator. “So if that guy isn’t your roommate, who is?”

“My buddy Wonwoo. He’s actually visiting family in Korea right now, won’t be moving in till the end of the month.”

“I see,” you nod. “Well, welcome to the building.” 

“Thanks,” Mingyu beams again. “If all our neighbours are as friendly as you, I think we’ll like it here.”

“If I’m being honest, we’re a quiet building, lots of us are kind of reclusive,” you try to explain, choosing your words carefully. 

You hear Cheol let out a chuckle as he waits for the elevator, and you wonder what he’s found so funny.

“Quiet,” Mingyu repeats, letting out a breath. “Noted. We’ll do our best not to be a disruption.”

You want to believe him, but something in his grin tells you not to. 

Two 

It’s been about a month and a half since Mingyu moved in. You’ve not seen him, or his roommate, although, you have heard them through your shared wall a few times. One of them - Wonwoo you’re guessing- is pretty into video games, because yelled lines like ‘I’m trying to revive you, dipshit!’ and ‘stop fucking dying so much then!’ have irritated you and interrupted your soft girl movie nights. 

From what you can tell, Mingyu’s elusive friend who was visiting Korea is now sharing his bedroom wall with you, and at two AM on a Tuesday night, your suspicion is confirmed. You wake to noises that aren’t gamer screams, they’re screams of pleasure. 

Muffled cries of “harder, daddy!” and “please!” have your skin tingling as you shift under your duvet, feeling suddenly very hot. 

As you lay there and listen to the sound of a headboard beginning to hit the wall, you try to decide if you’re annoyed, or horny. The tingling between your thighs, and the heat along your neck makes you think it might be a combination of both.

Part of you wants to bang your fist against the wall, but you’re much too shy to risk any sort of confrontation. Instead, you simply lay there, fighting the need to slip your hand down your sleeping shorts.

You figure the sex will be over soon, but five minutes stretches into fifteen. The woman’s cries have stopped, but the low thumping of a bedframe against the wall has only gotten more intense. 

You’re no stranger to kinky shit- you’re an avid reader of smut afterall, and being a voracious reader, your mind comes up with reasons why the girl may have stopped begging. Had Wonwoo put something in her mouth to shut her up? Panties perhapse? Or had he flipped her into doggy position, pressing a hand to the back of her head to force her face against the pillows?

If Mingyu had been hot, his best friend must be sexy too- guys like that travel in packs, and Cheol hadn’t been bad on the eyes either. You imagine a faceless man, muscled and gorgeous, railing some girl not four feet away from you, with only a wall keeping you from seeing the perverse act. You feel dirty, like a voyeur, and you’re equal parts relieved and saddened when the noise finally stops. 

You sit in silence, listening to your own heavy breaths for a few minutes, wondering if the sounds will pick up again.

They don’t, and soon, you’re drifting off into a lusty sleep.

Three 

You’ve been awoken to the sounds of sex three times now. The idea of approaching the property manager to file a noise complaint has been on your mind, but you can’t find it within yourself to make waves.

Due to all of this, when you finally bump into Mingyu in the building’s shared laundry room, you see it as the perfect chance to quietly resolve the issue without causing trouble. 

He’s dressed in gym shorts and a black muscle shirt that shows off his expansive shoulders as he moves wet clothes into the dryer. Standing in the doorway of the laundry room, you’re once again struck by how beautiful your new neighbour is.

With a deep breath to find courage, you appraoch him, going for the washing machine next to his. “Hi,” you greet him.

“Oh, hey neighbour,” Mingyu grins, pausing what he’s doing to look you up and down.

You’re hyper aware of the sleeping shorts that hardly cover your legs, and the sweater you’d tossed on does little to hide the fact that you’re currently braless. Even so, if you don’t bring up the noises now, you’re not sure when you’ll get another chance.

“Hey, do you uh…” your words come out quiet, and you try to raise your voice a little, wanting to sound confident, “do you think you could ask your roommate and his girlfriend to keep it down?” 

“Huh?” Mingyu’s brows furrow in confusion.

“The person whose room is next to mine,” you try to explain. “They’ve been kind of loud with uh… a girl, recently.”

“Oh!” You can practically see the lighbulb go off in Mingyu’s eyes. “Sorry, you said girlfriend, and that part stumped me. The last time was about a week ago, yeah?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I already talked to him a few days ago. Told him to get his fuck buddies to keep it down- they’re annoying, huh? I thought I was the only one losing sleep over it.”

“Definitely not the only one,” you let out a small laugh. “If I’m being honest, I was considering talking to the property manager about it, but I don’t like to cause issues, so I’m glad we’re on the same page about this.”

“We’re for sure on the same page,” Mingyu assures you. “Thanks for not talking to the manager about this- hey, listen, what if I give you my number, and if it happens again, you just have to text me and I’ll go bang on his door or something?”

“I’d appreciate that,” you grin, watching him pull out his phone so he can grab your digits. “Honestly, I work from home, and for the most part, you guys have been pretty great neighbours.”

“Ooh, one of those post covid remote jobs,” Mingyu nods in understanding. “I mean, I’m out during the days usually, I work at a tattoo shop across town, and Wonwoo sleeps most of the time so he can be awake for his evening bar job.”

“That actually kind of makes sense,” you admit. “I never see you guys around.” 

“Well…” Mingyu leans against the dryer, flashing you a boyish grin. “We could change that. You could come over sometime.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. From his body language, and the suggestion, you’re pretty sure this gorgeous man is flirting with you. “I, uh…” you swallow thickly, “maybe.” 

“Well, I have your number, and now…” Mingyu types something into his phone and a moment later yours dings, “you have mine. So if you want to take me up on that offer, just shoot me a text.” 

“Okay.” The words comes out kind of shaky, and you internally smack yourself for becoming so shy from this pretty man hitting on you.

With a wink, Mingyu leaves the laundry room, and your thoughts are scattered for the rest of the day.

Four 

It’s been too long since you’ve seen all your friends from highschool. Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan are three of the rowdiest guys you know. They love doing bar crawls with you whenever they’re all in town and can find the time. 

Seungkwan lives in another city these days, studying law at a prestigious university. Soonyoung travels the country with dance troup. And Seokmin spends hours every day at the theater practicing for new performances and productions.

They’ve taken you to a bar you’ve never been to, and you’re enjoying the booth style seating. Millennial and old classics are playing through the speakers, and every time a good song comes on, the three men start singing, whether it be Cher, or Britney, or even Kesha. 

You’re a few drinks deep, but they’re even deeper, and it’s gotten to the part of the evening where they want to hear everything about your love life. 

“Okay, book girlie,” Soonyoung slurs, throwing his arm around your shoulders, “spill the beans. Who you fucking?”

You laugh, pushing at his cheek to get his face away from yours. He wreaks of tequila and the Gucci cologne he practically drowns himself in every night before going out. It’s not the most pleasant combination.

“I’m single,” you insist.

“We all know you always have your eye on someone,” Seungkwan insists, leaning over the table to point his finger at you. “Tell us.”

“Okay, maybe there is someone I’m interested in,” you admit.

All three men let out delighted squeals and laughs. “We knew it!” Seokmin exclaims.

“The issue is, he’s my neighbour, and dating in your apartment building can get messy,” you explain. 

“We love messy,” Soonyoung insists. 

“You love messy,” you correct.

“So who’s this hot neighbour?” Seungkwan asks, wanting to dive into the gossip.

“His name is Mingyu.” You let out a sigh. “He’s tall, and handsome, and his arms-”

“Does he have a motorcycle?” Soonyoung interrupts you. “We know you love men with bikes.”

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But it doesn’t matter. My motorcycle phase was last summer.”

“Baby,” Seungwan frowns dramatically, “Honey, sweetheart- You’re a booktok girl. We all know kinky little sluts like you need their bikertok boy to make their fantasies come true.”

You hate it when Seungkwan reads you to filth like this, and you hate it even more that he’s so right. You’ll always have a soft spot for men on motorcycles- or is it a wet spot?

“Anyways, Mingyu is cute, he gave me his number and invited me over-”

“Bitch, go fuck him!” Soonyoung bellows a little too loudly, and you immediately slap a hand over his mouth, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

That’s when your eyes land on a man behind the bar. His curly dark hair is cute, but when you study his regally handsome face, you realize you recougnize him.

“Fuck,” you whisper, immediately lifting your drink to hide behind it.

“What?” Seungkwan turns in his seat. “The bartender?”

“Babes, he’s been checking you out all night,” Soonyoung grins, cuddling closer to you.

It’s only Seokmin who studies you and asks, “Do you know him?”

“The bartender?” Seungkwan scoffs, as if it’s a stupid idea, although, when he turns to look at you again, his jaw drops. “Fuck, you do know him! Girl, spill!” 

“Do you guys remember that Harley dude from the summer? Jeon? The one I ghosted after he missed our first date then suggested a ride night with all his friends to make up for it?” you ask, lowering your voice and continuing to hide behind the glass in your hand.

“Shit, that’s the Harley dude?” Seokmin’s eyes widen in realization. 

“Fuck me, this is awkward,” you groan, taking a large sip from your drink. “Can we get out of here?”

“Babes, we just ordered another round,” Seungkwan points out, lifting his full Gin and Tonic to show you. 

“Don’t be like this,” Soonyoung pouts. “Harley man is a bartender, so what? He can’t ruin our night. Maybe he doesn’t even recougnize you!”

“If he’s been staring, I bet you he does,” Seungkwan points out, taking a swig of his drink.

“Thanks, Seungkwan,” you say sarcastically, “that really makes me feel so much better.”

Your friend only grins, raising his glass. 

You do your best to be calm, but you can’t control the racing of your heart. Your gaze keeps shifting to Jeon, and then, the night takes a turn for the worse: Mingyu walks in, followed closely by Cheol, and some other guy you haven’t met.

The group walks right up to the bartop, and you note the way Mingyu grins at Jeon, holding out a hand so the two can do a slight hug over the counter before the three men take their seats. 

“Shit,” you whisper, downing your drink. 

“What?” Soonyoung also whispers, following your gaze.

“That’s my neighbour,” you explain. “This is not good.”

“Looks like they know each other,” Seungkwan points out.

“Again,” you sigh, “not helping. Fuck me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

You stand abruptly from the table, darting off to the space at the back of the bar. In the ladies room, you splash your hands with cold water, trying to chase away the fire that licks across your skin. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, and deep breaths don’t do anything to help. 

You feel like you’re caged in- like there’s no way out of this bar without running into Jeon and Mingyu. 

You’re not sure how long you stay in the washroom, trying to relax- you give your friends time to finish their drinks, and you’re hoping that when you exit, you can simply escape with them, using the three men as a human shield.

When you exit the bathroom, however, you run directly into Mingyu, who’s just coming out of the men’s room.

“Sorry-” he apologizes, only to look you up and down. “No way! Neighbour? Damn, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Oh, hi,” you say awkwardly, forcing a smile.

“How’s your night going?” You usually like Mingyu’s happy energy, but right now, it feels nearly overwhelming.

“Good, you?”

“My night’s going great- hey, listen, I want you to meet someone!” Mingyu grabs your hand, and before you can stop him, your large neighbour is dragging you back out into the bar. 

As he tugs you closer and closer to Jeon, pieces begin to click in your head, and when you reach the bartop, you’re not even surprised when Mingyu says, “This is Wonwoo, my roommate!” He had mentioned Wonwoo worked at a bar, after all. 

“Hi,” you say awkwardly, forcing get another smile.

Jeon - or Wonwoo - looks you up and down. God, he’s even more handsome than his Tinder pictures had made him out to be. But fuck, you’ve heard him fucking other girls through your bedroom wall over three times- and you’d ghosted him-

“Hi,” Wonwoo echoes, his voice all deep and sexy in the loud noise of the bar.

You feel like the wind has been knocked out of you. 

“Wonwoo, this is our neighbour, you know, the one I mentioned.” There’s an insinuation in Mingyu’s tone, and the fact that he’d talked about you to Wonwoo has your stomach erupting into erratic butterflies that threaten to catch in your throat.

“Right.” Wonwoo’s tone is so unimpressed, and you’d bet your life the man is holding a grudge over the whole ghosting thing.

“Wait, Y/N, you should join us for a drink!” Mingyu suggests.

“Actually, I’m here with friends, I should really get back to them,” you say awkwardly, tugging your hand away from Mingyu’s grip. “Thanks for the offer though.”

“Right, yeah, okay.” God, Mingyu looks like a kicked puppy, but then he flashes you a smile and your heart melts. “Listen, text me, just to let me know when you get home safe.”

“You got it,” you agree quickly, giving him a tight lipped grin before you nearly stumble over yourself to get back to your table. “Guys, we have to leave, now.” 

“What happened?” Seokmin asks, clearly concerned while Seungkwan sighs and pulls out a wad of cash.

“They do know each other,” Soonyoung blurts out.

“Turns out Harley Jeon isn’t just Harley Jeon, he’s also Wonwoo, Mingyu’s roommate,” you quickly explain, grabbing your jacket to wrap around your body.

Soonyoung’s eyes light up in realization. “And they were roommates,” he whispers.

“And I ghosted one of them!” you whisper yell back. “The same one who I’ve heard fucking multiple girls through my wall over three times!”

Seungkwan lets out a chuckle. “Girl. You’re fucked.” 

Five 

Jeonghan lets out a deep sigh. “You know, when Seokmin texted me to come check on you for some Grade-A Tea, I never expected any of this.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “I know I’m in deep shit.”

“Nah, you’re good,” your cousin assures you, standing and stretching. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I wish I had the confidence in myself that you have in me,” you breathe, also rising to your feet. Jeonghan’s been over for a while now, and after giving him all the gossip, you feel like you could use some time to yourself. 

“You’ll get there,” your cousin assures you, heading toward your front door so he can slip into his shoes. “Keep me updated.”

“I will. Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan opens your front door, stepping into the hallway before pulling you into a hug. “If I didn’t have a board meeting tomorrow, you know I’d stay longer.”

“I know. But I’m good,” you assure him. “I think I’ll sleep early tonight. This week has been a lot.”

“Sounds like it,” he nods, releasing you in favor of heading over to the elevator. Before he can press the button, however, the elevator dings, the doors opening. Wonwoo steps out. He stops infront of Jeonghan, giving him a once over before his eyes shift to you, still standing by the doorway to your unit.

Then, to your annoyance, Wonwoo grins, shaking his head and brushing past your cousin.

Jeonghan gets into the elevator, the doors closing, and as Wonwoo walks past you, you can’t help but make waves. “What?”

“I never said anything.” Wonwoo stops in front of you, hands nonchalantly tucked in the leather pockets of his jacket.

“You gave me a look,” you insist. 

He shrugs. “It’s just gonna break Gyu’s heart to know you already have a man in your life, that’s all.”

You roll your eyes. “That was my cousin.”

“Sure it was.”

“It was!” You can’t help the way your voice is raising.

“And the guys at the bar?”

“Friends!” 

“Right.” 

He turns to leave, and you swallow thickly, mind reeling for a comeback.

“I just don’t see how you can be making assumptions about me,” you state.

Wonwoo stops, gaze finding you again. “What do you mean?”

“Just that.. I mean… I’ve heard you fucking girls, mister Jeon, if that’s even your real name!” 

He actually grins at your words, eye brows raising in surprise. “Girl, actually, singular. It was one girl. A recent hookup. She’s not into gags like the others, they’re generally pretty quiet for you, aren’t they?” 

You’re so shocked by what he’s just said that you physically take a step back, jaw dropping.

“Oh, and by the way,” Wonwoo heads to his door, reaching into his jacket for his keys. “Mister Jeon is what people call my father, I’m sure you know that I prefer to be called Daddy.” 

He unlocks his apartment, flashing you a wink before he heads inside. You stand in your doorway for a solid ten seconds, processing his words before you go back to your room to scream into a pillow.

Six

After the events of the week, and work on top of that, a nap the moment you're done sending the last emails of the day is exactly what you need.

Birds are singing outside, your window ajar. The warming air carries the scent of blossoming buds, and you relax against your pillow, enjoying the feeling of your duvet against your skin.

You’re just drifting off when a loud engine jolts you back into consciousness. You flop onto your back, staring at the ceiling. 

You’ve been a motorcycle fan for long enough to know the sound of one when you hear it, and as the revving continues, you’d bet your right hand that some jackass is doing burnouts in the alley outside.

It’s probably some enthusiastic douchebag who has finally brought their motorcycle out of the garage after a long winter-

Actually, wait. You know an asshole with a motorcycle. An asshole with a Harley to be exact. 

Fucking Jeon Wonwoo. 

God, you hate that man.

Grabbing your pillow, you burry your head under it, wishing for the sounds to stop. 

Surprisingly, soon enough, you hear the motorcycle take off, with two more engines revving up to follow. 

Your apartment complex used to be so nice and peaceful.

It used to be.

Seven

After your nap had been interrupted, you’d trudged around for a while. It’s the evening now, and you have no energy to cook, so you’ve ordered takeout. When you head down to the lobby to  grab your food, you bump into Mingyu.

“Look at us, always running into each other,” he grins, watching you step by him to bend down and pick up your takeout.

“Seems like a common theme,” you agree, letting out a sigh.

“You good, neighbour? You look tired.”

“You want the truth?” you ask, straightening to look at him.

“Always.” He holds the door open for you to come back into the apartment complex. 

As you head to the elevator, you choose your words carefully, after all, you’re pretty sure Wonwoo was culprit behind the motorcycle incident two hours ago. “I just… I was trying to have a nap after work, been tired lately, and some guy was revving his motorcycle outside my window. He woke me up and I was too irritated to go back to sleep.”

As you enter the elevator, you notice Mingyu’s skin turning pink, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “Actually… uh… I, uh…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I have a Harley, but uh, I got a new sportsbike, and that was me doing burnouts to test it out a little.”

Your heart lurches into your throat, your jaw dropping. When it comes to your neighbours in 317, you always find yourself conflicted. You’re annoyed at him, but at the same time, the fact that he also has a motorcycle makes this ten out of ten man even ten times hotter-

“Oh,” you look down at your takeout. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologizes quickly. “It won’t happen again- you won’t tell our building manager it was me right? Like, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” you let out a breath. “I mean, technically quiet hours don’t start till ten pm, and this was like, five, so I guess it’s my own fault for trying to nap so early.”

“Not your fault,” he assures you. “You definitely look like you need some rest- if it helps, I promise no burnouts near the apartment.” Mingyu even crosses his heart, and your body relaxes, shoulders slumping as you crack a smile.

“Okay, that would be nice.”

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor, and the two of you exit together, closing the short distance to your door. 

“Your takeout smells good,” Mingyu notes. “Maybe you could put yourself in a food coma and pass out for a bit, I promise there will be no noise issues tonight.”

“That sounds nice, actually,” you admit.

“Also uh… you know, you still haven’t taken me up on that offer about coming over sometime.”

When you look over at Mingyu, you find him leaning against the hallway wall, staring down at you with soft puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy-” you search for an excuse. “Also, I mean, I don’t know if Wonwoo would be good with me coming over.”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Mingyu shrugs, which is when you realize that Wonwoo must not have told Mingyu anything about your failed dates or the ghosting. 

“He just didn’t seem to like me very much when you introduced us,” you blurt out, grasping for straws.

“He always has a resting bitch face, don’t take it personally,” Mingyu assures you. “Seriously, come over sometime, we don’t bite.”

Mingyu might not, but you get the sneaking suspicion that Wonwoo does.

Eight

The reverse harem adult romance your reading had drawn you in when you’d first opened it, but as time goes by, your mind keeps wandering when you reach the sex scenes. 

Threesomes have you imagining Wonwoo and Mingyu, and try as you might, you can’t shake the image from your head.

It doesn’t help that they fit the character personalities, one puppylike lover, and one more stoic and dominant. You can’t help but wonder what the two would be like in bed, and with a groan of frustration, you slot your bookmark between the pages and set the novel down on the bed next to you.

As you sit there, deep in thought, you think about what Mingyu had said about owning a Harley. 

That’s when you realize, last summer, when Wonwoo had suggested a Harley ride night as a date- if you had gone with him, would you have met Mingyu?

You decide that Mingyu definitely would have been there.

It’s interesting how the domino effect works- or maybe this is invisible string theory; the idea that, you can pass someone, or have missed chances, but one way or another, that person will always end up in your life.

What would have happened if you’d met Mingyu that way? 

What would have happened if you’d met Wonwoo that way? 

At the moment, there’s no question as to which of the two neighbours you prefer. Mingyu is happy and welcoming, he always has a smile, and you could see yourself having a great relationship with him- if things were to take a turn that way.

But on the flip side, Wonwoo is more similar to the type you’ve dated in the past.

If one neighbour is a Doberman, then the other is a Golden Retriever. They’re like night and day, and yet, you’re drawn to both, as if some gravitational or celestial power is pulling you to them… it also helps that they both have motorcycles. 

How had it been so easy to ghost Wonwoo in the past, only to find yourself at a crossroads with his roommate seven months later?

Nine

You’re outside your apartment waiting for an Uber when two familiar men on motorcycles pull up in front of you. 

Wonwoo’s on his Harley. It’s all black, and although you’re not very well verses with motorcycle types, you’re pretty sure it’s a Fat Boy or a Street Bob- but as you stare at the wheels, you begin to lean toward Street Bob. 

Mingyu, in contrast, is on a red Kawasaki Ninja, which is evident by the name on the side. He lifts up his visor when he comes to a stop two feet away. “Hey, neighbour,” he greets you. “Waiting for someone?”

“An Uber is picking me up.”

“An Uber?” Mingyu looks around. “Where are you headed?”

“A family thing. We’re going to be drinking so I figured I shouldn’t drive,” you explain.

“Good idea,” he nods, then, without skipping a beat, he asks, “Wanna ride?”

You gaze shifts from Mingyu to Wonwoo, and you can practically see the Harley rider roll his eyes. With an aggressive rev of his engine, Wonwoo bolts off, leaving you and Mingyu in his dust.

“Uh, don’t you two have plans?” you ask.

“We did, but we were just going for a ride. I can take you where you need to be and meet him later,” Mingyu shrugs. “Seriously, don’t mind him.”

You’ve been on a motorcycle once before, and you know enough to understand that the short romper and light spring jacket you’re wearing is not enough to protect you on the back of a bike. And that’s the least of your worries. “I don’t have a helmet-”

Mingyu begins to undo his, and you watch in shock as he pulls it off, shaking out his hair and offering you the red head gear. “Take mine.”

“Isn’t it illegal to ride without one?”

“We’ll be fast- but not dangerous, I’ll be good, I promise. Where are we going?”

With a deep breath, you pull up your Aunt’s house on your phone’s map app, showing it to Mingyu. 

“I can get you there in ten minutes, easy,” he says. 

“This is not a good idea,” you warn, although you accept the helmet. 

“Cancel your Uber,” Mingyu urges softly. “Let me do this for you.”

With one last sigh, you cancel your ride, then, you allow Mingyu to help you onto the back of his bike. 

“Have you ever been on one of these before?” he asks.

“Once,” you admit, adjusting the helmet on your head before you tentatively wrap your arms around Mingyu’s large body. 

“Just hold on tight.”

“Take care of me,” you retort.

Mingyu grins. “Always.”

A moment later, he’s revving his engine, and the two of you take off on his bike, your clothes whipping around and contorting flat to the curves of your form.

You hold Mingyu tighter, and he takes one hand off his handlebars to rest it over yours for a second, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

When he pulls onto the main road, Mingyu is true to his word about not being dangerous. He doesn’t lane split or push the bike too hard. When you come up to traffic, he waits patiently, resting his elbow on your knee as if this is something the two of you have done together a hundred times before.

You become so lost in how attracted you are to Mingyu- how you have to hug him tight when he accelerates, that the trip is over before you know it. He pulls up to your aunts house, turning to offer you a hand so you can get off the Ninja. 

Your legs feel wobbly as you step on solid ground, and Mingyu helps you with the chin clasp of the helmet, removing it easily. 

“Thanks for being my backpack,” he smiles.

“Thanks for giving me a ride,” you grin back.

“If you want, you can text me when you’re done, and I’ll get you home safe. I’ll even bring a spare helmet this time, and maybe a proper riding jacket for you.”

“That would be really nice actually.”

“You got it, angel,” Mingyu flashes you a wink before he pulls the helmet onto his head. You move to the sidewalk, standing there to watch him as he gives you one last nod and takes off, the engine loud enough to be heard even as he makes it two blocks away in record time.

A low whistle startles you, and you turn to see Jeonghan standing in the driveway. “Damn, that dude was hot.”

“That’s my neighbour,” you sigh.

“Which one?”

“The good one!”

“You should take him up on that offer of hanging out,” Jeonghan suggests.

“And you should keep your nose out of my love life.”

Your cousin simply laughs. “Never going to happen.”

Ten

The jacket Mingyu brings for you when he picks you up from your family gathering is long enough to be a dress. You struggle with the thick material as you try to get on his bike, and you can see Mingyu grinning from the opening in his full face helmet.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, allowing you to settle behind him.

You pat his thigh when you’re good to go, and the two of you slot down your visors before he takes off.

It’s the late evening now, and being on his bike feels different in the dark. The city lights whip past you, and the lanes are pretty empty for Mingyu to go faster. Now that you’re both in full protective gear, there’s not as much of a need to be safe, although, as you hold tightly to your neighbour, you realize this might be as safe as you’ve ever felt.

You trust Mingyu, in a way that you can’t quite explain. 

As it was before, it’s easy to get lost in the act of being on Mingyu’s motorcycle, and before you know it, he’s pulling into your apartment complex’s underground garage. 

You hate that the ride has ended so quickly, and you hate it even more that you have to let go of Mingyu’s large, warm body. You stand next to the motorcycle while he gets off of it, and you wait patiently for him to take off his helmet before he helps you with your own.

“Do you have plans for the rest of the night?” Mingyu asks while the two of you walk toward the elevator.

“Not really,” you admit. In fact, you’re feeling a little tired. You hadn’t drank as much at the family dinner as you thought you would, and sleep sounds pretty good right about now.

“Do you wanna come see my place?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“If you’re worried about Wonwoo, he went to work before I came to pick you up,”  Mingyu tells you. “Come on, just one drink or something. Don’t you wanna compare your one bedroom to my two bedroom?”

You are curious to see what sort of decorations these two men have- they’re mid to late twenties at best, and you love to laugh. 

“Fine, one drink,” you let out a breath as you enter the elevator, turning to look up at Mingyu. “Why do you care so much if I come over? Like, honestly?”

Mingyu meets your gaze, fiddling with the helmet in his hand. “I guess maybe… because I like you.” He shrugs. “You’re a good neighbour, and an even better backpack. You look cute in my jacket- why wouldn’t I want to get to know you better?”

“That’s a good answer,” you admit with a laugh.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he grins. 

When the two of you exit the elevator, you follow Mingyu past your apartment to his own door. You watch the way he pulls out his keys, fumbling a little to get into his place. He lets you enter first, and you step into the foreign home with a curious gaze.

You slip out of your shoes, undoing his jacket around your shoulders as you wander further into the apartment. The two men are cleaner than you would have expected. The furniture is minimalist, and mostly cream coloured- which isn’t a shade you would have thought would match the motorcycle riding, black wearing men. You wonder how the couch in the den is so well kept- there’s not a hint of stains on the nicely textured cover, no beer or food-

There’s no dirty dishes in the sink, no miscellaneous bowl of car keys and other shit that guys always tend to carry in their pockets.

In fact, this place almost looks like a ‘girl sanctuary,’ the type of pintrest board apartment inspo you’d find online. 

“What do you think?” Mingyu asks, coming up behind you and helping you take off his jacket.

“It’s really nice,” you say honestly. “Not what I expected.”

“I’m a bit of a neat freak,” he admits with a chuckle.

So he’s big, muscled, kind, rides a motorcycle, and he knows how to do housewife cleaning duties? How did you ever manage to score a jackpot like him for a neighbour? 

“Anyways, take a seat on the couch, I’ll grab some beer. You drink beer, right?”

“Sure.” You move to settle into the sofa, and Mingyu brings over two cans of lager from the fridge, cracking one open before he hands it to you. 

“Cheers,” he grins, gently clinking his can against your own. 

You take a sip, focusing on the way Mingyu sits on the other end of the couch, angling his body toward you. “So… you mentioned you work at a tattoo parlour? How did you get into that?”

“I’ve always been into art,” he explains. “My buddy Cheol was more into tattoos with me, opened up his own shop and encouraged me to apprentice with him after I graduated from uni with my arts degree. I wish there was more to it, but I really just got kind of lucky.”

The list of his good qualities just keeps getting better and better- a university educated man? Yes please.

“I guess, maybe what I’m wondering is why you don’t have any tattoos yourself?” you ask, looking at the beautiful unblemished skin shown off by his muscle shirt.

Mingyu laughs, also gazing down at his arms. “Would you judge me if I told you I’m scared of needles.”

“That’s cute,” you grin, sipping your beer. 

“You’re cute,” he retorts, mirroring your motion and trying to hide his smile behind the can in his hand. “Anyways, you said you’d been on a motorcycle before?”

“Yeah, just once.”

“Tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing much to say,” you admit. “Went on a date with a guy, he mentioned he had a sports bike, offered to take me for a ride, so I said yes.”

“So…” Mingyu taps his fingers along his beer can, “you like guys with bikes?”

You let out a laugh. “Maybe.” 

“I’m feeling better and better about my odds,” Mingyu smiles. 

“Your odds are very good,” you tell him. Now it’s your turn to drink in an effort to hide the massive grin on your face.

“Yeah? I was a little worried, I mean, I gave you my number and you didn’t text- took a little bit of convincing to get you on my bike, to get you into the apartment- I hope I didn’t overstep anything there.”

“No, you’re fine,” you assure him. “I can just… be a bit shy sometimes.”

“It’s cute though.”

Your skin heats at the compliment, heart thundering in your rib cage. “What about you? I’m into bikes, are you into cute girls?”

“A hundred percent,” he nods. “They’re my favourite kind.”

“Do you have any experience dating neighbours?”

“No, but I’d like that to change.”

“Do you think being neighbours could complicate things?” you enquire.

“I mean… if I didn’t see you as girlfriend material, then yeah, I’d never turn a neighbour into a hookup, but then again, I’m not huge into hookups to begin with,” Mingyu explains.

“You know… I’m trying to find even one red flag about you, and I’m seriously coming up empty.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You smile, looking down at your nearly finished beer. “I guess not.”

“How about you? Any red flags?” he asks. 

Aside from the downright pornographic books you read on the daily? “Probably not.”

“Probably not, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “Maybe I should be the one keeping a look out for red, but then again, with rose tinted glasses, red wouldn’t stand out that much to me anyways.” 

You’d not expected your night to turn out like this. You’d figured it would be a nice family dinner, some drinking, then an Uber home and sleep. Instead, you’ve been on Mingyu’s bike twice, worn his jacket, his helmet- and now you’re here in his house, with your hot neighbour flirting with you in the most wholesome way-

In your tired state, you’re feeling a little overwhelmed. Your shyness is taking over- the fear of the unknown, of making a misstep, clouding your enjoyment of the peaceful space Mingyu has created in his apartment.

“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way,” you sigh, finishing your beer, “But I’m really tired-”

“Yeah, no worries, I said just one beer and it looks like you’re done,” Mingyu is quick to down the rest of his, reaching out to take your can so he can move to the kitchen. He places the empties under his sink, and you follow, keeping your distance.

“Thank you for this though. I know we didn’t talk for that long, but I feel like I know you better,” you admit. 

“I’ve still got a lot of questions for you,” he grins. “But I’ll save those for another time. I’m not about to get in the way of a girl and her beauty sleep.”

“I appreciate that.” The two of you head to his door, and you slip your shoes on.

“Can I give you a goodbye hug or something?” Mingyu suggests. “It would feel weird letting you leave without one.”

You nod, allowing Mingyu to pull you close to his chest. He’s so tall, your cheek pressed tight to his well defined pecs- and fuck, he smells good. This isn’t the overpowering Gucci type cologne that Soonyoung wears, it’s a more muted, spicy yet clean scent. It’s the type of scent that encourages you to take a deep breath, your body relaxing as your neighbour hugs you.

“Thanks for coming over,” Mingyu whispers.

When you go to pull away, you find yourself tilting your head to look up at him. Your eyes meet, and it feels as if you’re hanging in a moment frozen in time. Your breath catches when his gaze dips down to your mouth, and you know what’s coming next.

His hand cups your cheek, stroking your skin, and he gives you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t. You simply stare into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes, waiting for him to make the move that you know is going to capture your heart completely.

When his lips finally touch yours, that sense of relief washes over you again. You shift in his embrace, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Mingyu lets out a soft sigh of contentment, parting his mouth ever so slightly so he can lick at your lower lip.

You mirror the motion, your tongues gently clashing. 

You’ve met some guys who try to force their way into your mouth, who try to dominate you- but Mingyu isn’t like that. He’s soft and fluid, reacting to your movements moreso than anything else. His hands slip down to your hips, holding you close while you kiss each other.

No first kiss has ever felt this natural, and like with riding the bike, it becomes so easy to get lost in your neighbour.

When you finally break away, you’re both breathing heavily. You can taste the beer on your lips, and it makes you release a small laugh, giddy joy surging through your entire body.

“That was…” Mingyu swallows thickly, “wow.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Wow.” 

Eleven

It’s been two weeks since you started getting to know Mingyu better. You’ve gone on motorcycle dates, stopped at food trucks while enjoying the sunshine of spring, and when Wonwoo’s not around, Mingyu has invited you over for movie nights.

While there’s been lots of kissing, and a growing desire for more, the two of you haven’t gone much farther than second base. You kind of like taking things slow with Mingyu, he’s very good at not applying any pressure, and you adore that about him.

You’re hanging out in your apartment when Mingyu calls you, asking if you have any garlic he can borrow for his meal plan. Part of you thinks it’s a little late for dinner, but you agree anyways. 

Sometimes you think he comes up with this sort of thing just to see you, stealing kisses at your door- but this time, when he comes over to grab ingredients, he doesn’t simply wait in the hallway.

“Can I come in?” he asks, peering at your apartment beyond.

“Come in?” you repeat.

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve seen my place, and I haven’t really gotten to see yours yet.” He sounds nonchalant, but you can tell that your personal space - the way you conduct yourself in your own home - is something that makes him curious.

“Okay.” You step away from the door. “Come on in.”

Mingyu bends down to kiss you as he steps over the threshold, and you grin against his lips, enjoying the way his hands softly grab your waist. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t really need garlic, did you?” you tease.

“Nope, I ate dinner after work.” Mingyu takes his shoes off while you close the door behind him, and he looks around your apartment. “It’s nice in here.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to give me a tour?” he asks.

You let out a giggle. “Okay.” 

You’ve never given a formal tour of your apartment before, but you do your best, showing him through the kitchen and the small living room area. You’ve got certain knick knacks that are special to you, and you explain them to Mingyu while he listens with a smile.

Finally, you make it to your bedroom. Before you can even open your mouth to say anything, Mingyu’s arms are wrapping around you, his chest pressed to your back, lips on your throat.

He already knows your sweet spots, and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your head to make things easier for him.

“Gyu…”

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers in your ear, nibbling gently on the lobe.

“No.”

You hadn’t expected this tonight, but you’re at a point now where you don’t want to wait. Mingyu isn’t the type to use you and leave you. He’s made his intentions clear, and the sexual chemistry between the two of you is undeniable. 

You find yourself turning in Mingyu’s embrace, cupping his cheek so you can draw his lips to yours. He lets out an immediate groan of satisfaction, and it goes straight to your core, which flutters with delight. You kiss him deeply, pouring all your wants and desires into the meeting of your mouths.

Then your hands find the bottom of his shirt, and before you know it, you’re stripping the fabric from Mingyu’s body and tracing your hands over the muscles you love so much.

His body jolts when you tease your nails across his lower abdomen, and it prompts Mingyu to reach down, cupping your ass and easily lifting you up. Your legs wrap around his hips, tongues clashing in a lusty battle as he carries you to your bed.

Your hands trace along his strong shoulders as he lays you onto the mattress, looking down at you with blown pupils. He’s breathing heavily already, and you can see the bulge of his cock through his jeans. 

You’ve grinded against him before, sitting on his lap on his couch while he rubs your tits through your comfortable evening sweaters, so you know how big Mingyu is, but knowing he’s about to be inside of you makes your heart race in an entirely different way.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Mingyu asks again, straightening to look down at you.

“Uh huh,” you sit up, meeting his gaze. Then you reach out, undoing his buckle while keeping steady eye contact. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, chest heaving with each breath. “You don’t have to-”

“Don’t have to what?” you tease, moving onto the zipper, which you tug down roughly.

“Don’t have to-” he swallows thickly. “I want to make you feel good.” 

“What if you do that after?” you suggest. “I want to make you feel good first.” 

“Fuck, Angel, okay.” 

“Yeah?” You raise a brow at him, hooking your fingers in his jeans and briefs.

“Yeah,” he nods quickly. “Do whatever you want- whatever you want.”

You tug his pants down, allowing them to bag at his knees. You’re already much too focused on the cock in front of you to care about getting him fully undressed.

Your eyes take in Mingyu’s rock hard length. You’re not great with measurements, but you swear he must be seven or eight inches. He’s got a pretty mushroom tip, all flushed and pink. There’s a prominent vein running along the underside of him, and it makes your mouth water.

You haven’t sucked cock in a while, but you’d read a very good erotica about it last night, and you know exactly what to do. 

Grabbing the base of him, you angle Mingyu’s cock slightly upward, running your tongue along the vein.

“Shit,” Mingyu groans, hands flying to your head. He doesn’t apply any pressure, simply strokes you as you take the tip past your lips, suckling on it and twirling your tongue. “You’re- fuck, you’re good at this.”

You let out a happy hum, and the vibration makes him twitch, pushing him further into your mouth. 

Your eyes are closed now, and you allow yourself to enjoy the act of pleasuring Mingyu. After being so patient with you over the past few weeks, he deserves it. The sounds he’s letting out are more than enough encouragement for you, and soon, your drool begins to drip down to your fingers, making it easier for you to pump his neglected shaft.

There’s no way in Hell you’ll ever be able to fit all of him in your mouth, but unless he’s used to dating women schooled in oral aerobics or some shit, you doubt any of his past lovers have ever achieved that feat either.

Instead, you focus most of your attention on the tip, knowing that the head of his cock is where he’s got a lot of his nerve endings. 

Your tongue dips along his slit, tasting the salty precum. Mingyu moans loudly above you, fingers threading through your hair.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum too fast,” he warns you.

Part of you wants him to cum, so you go even harder- only for Mingyu to gently pull you off of him.

You blink up at the gorgeous man, pleased to find that he’s flushed. His chest, shoulders, neck and cheeks are all a pretty pink colour, and he’s panting heavily. “Seriously, Angel, I don’t want to cum yet.”

“What if I want you to cum?”

“I’m not making you swallow the first time we sleep together,” Mingyu states, and you can tell that it’s a hard boundary. “And I’m not cumming on you either- I think…” he licks his lips, “I think it’s my turn to make you feel good now.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Then Mingyu leans down over you, grabbing your shirt and tugging it off. Your pants are discarded next, left on the floor next to his own while he adjusts you on your bed.

He’s left your bra and panties on, and when his lips find yours again, you kind of appreciate that he’s intent on more foreplay.

Your core is aching through the cotton fabric, and your nipples are pressing up toward the cups still confining them. It’s driving you crazy as he kisses you deeply, but then one of his hands reaches up to massage you through your bra, and you let out a sinful whine.

“Take it off,” you whimper, “please.”

Mingyu’s mouth moves from your lips to your throat, and he reaches under you, undoing the clasp. He gently pulls the bra from your form, and his kisses finally make it to your breasts. 

His soft hair is teasing your skin with each kiss, but when his lips wrap around your sensitive nipple, you can’t even find it within yourself to care about the slight ticklish sensation. Mingyu’s got your full attention now, his teeth gently dragging across the hardened bud, making you cry out even louder.

You grab at his broad shoulders, holding onto him for dear life, wriggling under his large form. 

His cock is pressing between your legs, rubbing against your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Fuck, Gyu-” you whimper. “I want you so bad.”

He groans in response, moving to your other breast to pay it as much attention as he had the first. Your neighbour takes his time, and you enjoy every second of it, although you’re absolutely desperate for more.

You want him to take the lead, as you lean more toward a submissive temperament in bed, despite the ballsy way you’d approach sucking his cock for the first time.

You wonder if he’s aching the way you are- if he’s throbbing with need for you the way your pussy is already trying to clench around nothing, anticipating the cock that’s going to split you open in a way that no man ever has before. 

Unable to help yourself anymore, you reach down between your bodies, grabbing his length and pumping him gently. Mingyu groans against your breasts, giving you one last lick before he brings his mouth up to your own again.

“Angel, fuck-” he practically whimpers, thrusting toward your hand. “You’re not ready yet.”

“I’m ready,” you try to assure him.

“Trust me,” Mingyu’s hand slips into your panties, two fingers teasing your core, “As wet as you are, you’re not ready for me.”

“Gyu-” You want to argue, but when he pushes two digits into your core, you realize he’s right. Because even with two fingers, you feel like he’s stretching your tight walls. 

You’re so wet that it makes it easy for Mingyu to begin finger fucking you, his mouth finding your throat so he can kiss your sweet spot desperately while you continue to stroke his cock. 

“Wanna make you cum once,” he groans, “before- fuck, before I take you.”

Your core throbs at his words, and it’s clear from the smile you feel against your skin that Mingyu can feel the way your body is reacting to him.

“Do you like when I talk dirty to you, Angel?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, applying more pressure as you stroke him off.

“You’re already taking my fingers so well, who got you this wet?”

“You did, Gyu,” you whimper.

“Can you cum with just fingers? Or should I rub your sensitive little clit too?”

“My clit-”

His palm immediately finds the bud of nerves, and you let out a strangled gasp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Fuck-” Your hand stops on his cock in favour of grabbing both of his shoulders.

“Like this?” he asks, applying a little more pressure that has you wiggling beneath him. 

“Yeah, just like that,” you groan, threading your fingers through his hair, guiding him to continue kissing your throat while he finger fucks you open.

“Have you wanted this as much as I have?”

“Even more,” you confess.

“Not possible,” he retorts, but by the squelching of your pussy, you’re pretty sure you have him beat. You don’t have the energy or the mental focus to fight him on this, so you simply give in to the pleasure he’s providing you. “So good for me.”

“Gyu-” you whimper, legs shaking as your orgasm builds much too fast in the pit of your stomach.

“Always so good for me,” he continues. “The best backpack. The best neighbour. The best girl-”

You cry out as your orgasm slams into you with no warning. Something about this brand of praise has made you feral, and your core throbs around Mingyu’s fingers as he works you through your high.

“Just like that,” he coos. “So good for me.”

You draw his lips to yours, kissing him breathlessly. He kisses you back, tongue invading your mouth and gently stroking your own.

You’re practically shaking by the time your orgasm is over, and Mingyu pulls his hand out of your panties. “I’m gonna take these off now,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your nose. “And grab a condom.”

“Actually…” You bite at your lip, meeting his gaze. “I’m on birth control.”

He pauses for a moment, and you can see the wheels practically turning in his head. “And… I mean, I know I’m clean-”

“I’m clean too,” you assure him. ‘It’s uh… it’s been a while for me, since I… well, you know.”

You can feel your skin heating at the admission of your near celibacy over the past few months. While you’ve imagined fucking all sorts of heros and villains in your books, the only thing that’s been inside you recently has been your six inch glittery pink dildo.

“And you uh… you want me to cum inside?” Mingyu clarifies.

“Please?”

Mingyu lets out a shaky breath, then he nods. “Okay, yeah, I can do that.”

He tugs your panties down your legs, and before you know it, the two of you are completely naked. Mingyu returns between your thighs, his arm muscles bulging as he holds himself over you, one hand grabbing the base of his cock so he can tease himself through your pussy lips.

“Can I convince you to let me eat you out first?”

“I need you,” you tell him, on the verge of crying if you don’t get your way.

“Another time, then.”

“Another time,” you agree with a laugh.

The tip of his cock teases by your clit and it makes your entire body jolt at the sensitivity.

“If it’s uh… if it’s too much,” Mingyu licks his lips, tearing his gaze from your core so he can look you in the eyes, “if it’s too much just let me know and I’ll stop.”

“Gyu, please, I’ll be okay-” you try to assure him, although, you’re not sure if you’re even certain with yourself on this one. There’s a possibility you might not even be able to walk tomorrow, but that’s a risk you’re more than willing to take.

He brings the tip of his cock down to your wet hole, gently pushing into you. The head alone is enough to have you moaning, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and throwing your head back against the pillows.

“Fuck-”

“Yeah,” his breath is hot against your chest, “I know, I’m sorry.”

It’s so endearing that the man is sorry his cock is so big.

“Don’t be sorry,” you let out a laugh, “I’ll just have to get used to you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Mingyu admits, pushing another inch past your wet walls. “Fuck, you have no idea how good you feel.”

“Just wait till you’re fully inside of me,” you whisper, closing your eyes and doing your best to relax your body so you can take him.

Mingyu lets out a groan, hips gently thrusting so he can coat his cock in your wet juices. Each movement has him burying deeper and deeper, earning sounds of pleasure from your lips. 

Your nails claw at his shoulders, but it’s clear that Mingyu is too focused on your pussy to even care or notice. 

“Almost there,” he tells you, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Nothing in the world has ever felt like Mingyu, and as his hips finally come flush to your own and he lets out a sigh of relief, you know that there’s no coming back from this. 

You both groan “Fuck” in unison, crashing your lips together a moment later as he begins to move. He starts off slow and gentle, his cock hitting spots so deep that you swear he’s rearranging your guts

You’ve spent years reading erotica, imagining what great sex would really look like, and now, you’re finally experiencing it for yourself.

You’ve never gone completely mind numb for someone before, but with Mingyu, you’re reduced to feral instinct. Sounds like the ones leaving your lips right now are not sounds that have ever come out of you before, and you swear you’ve never been this wet in your life.

Each thrust has Mingyu’s tip rubbing against a place that has you seeing stars, and as he picks up his pace, it’s the most you can do to keep kissing him even while wanting to scream with pleasure.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and when Mingyu releases a grunt, bringing his mouth to your throat so he can gently bite at your skin, you realize he kind of likes the pain.

The thought has your pussy tingling with even more delight, and Mingyu groans loudly.

“So good,” he moans. “So fucking good.”

“Don’t stop, please, fuck- no one has ever fucked me like this before-”

From the way Mingyu fucks you even harder, it’s clear he also has a praise kink. It’s funny how often praise and pain go hand in hand in pleasure.

You’re thankful for all the books you’ve read about this sort of thing, because they allow you to read Mingyu in a way that you’ve never imagined being able to read someone. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and you adore it.

Mingyu lifts his thigh, angling himself better on the bed so each thrust can go as deep as possible. Your headboard is hitting the wall now, and part of you almost wishes Wonwoo was home so you could annoy him with the sound as much as he’s annoyed you with it.

But at the same time, you’re glad Wonwoo is probably at work. As interesting as being a vouyer is when you’re the one listening in, due to your interesting past with your Harley loving neighbour, you’re not sure how you’d feel about him being privy to this intimate moment you’re sharing with Mingyu.

It’s clear Mingyu is completely present with you. From the sounds escaping him, you know that he’s not thinking about anyone else listening in. His ability to be completely enraptured by you makes it easier for you to get lost in him again, and when you draw his lips to yours, your mind goes pleasantly blank once more.

You’re not sure how long he fucks you like this, but soon, his hand finds your clit again, and you realize he wants you to cum with him.

“Can you give me one more?” he asks, looking down at you with those eyes you’ve come to adore.

“Yeah,” you nod, already feeling the tightening of your abdominal muscles. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm, and it’s way too easy for him to get you there again, especially with the way his cock drags against your inner walls and sets your entire body on fire.

“Fuck, you’re getting so tight, Angel, holy shit-” Mingyu groans deeply, pressing his forehead against your own. Each panting breath, each whimpered moan and grunt that escapes Mingyu has you closer and closer to the edge.

He should seriously consider getting a job reading erotica for money, like on the Quinn app or something, because fuck, no man has ever sounded this sexy before. 

“Come on,” he encourages you, “I won’t be able to last, fuck- you’re gonna cum with me, right?”

“Yeah-”

“You’re close?”

“Yes-” You dig your nails into his shoulders, closing your eyes and focusing on the way he’s circling your clit. 

“Please, please, please,” he practically begs, bringing his lips to your ear. “Be a good girl and cum for me again, come on, Angel, cum on my cock.”

You explode around him, crying out. Your legs tighten around his hips, and Mingyu’s entire body shudders as he cums with you. You can feel your core throbbing around him, milking him of his cum as he fills you to your absolute limit.

You’re both gasping, holding each other like life lines while orgasms ravage your bodies. It’s Heaven, but from the way your muscles are contracting, it’s also a little bit of Hell. Nothing has felt this good, but you know you’re going to be exhausted in the morning- fuck, you’re already exhausted.

Mingyu’s thrusts have faltered, but he tries to ride you through your highs. Soon, he’s half collapsing on top of you, your sweaty chests pressed together. Then he’s kissing you desperately, and it feels like you’re both pouring a thousand unsaid words into the meeting of your lips.

You make out for a short while, and then Mingyu pulls out of you, reaching for the kleenex box on your nightstand. “Here,” he offers, holding it between your thighs to stop any cum from dripping onto the bed.

“Thanks,” you let out a small laugh. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

“Good idea.”

Your legs are wobbly when you stand up, and it reminds you of the first time you’d gotten off the back of his bike.

You don’t mind Mingyu making it hard for you to walk, in both ways.

Inside the bathroom, you do your best to use the toilet and clean up the cum. After double checking yourself in the mirror and deciding to brush your teeth for good measure, you head back to your bedroom… which is where you find Mingyu flipping through the most recent book you’ve been reading.

Your heart lurches into your throat, body freezing in the doorway. 

“I didn’t know you read this sort of thing,” Mingyu muses, looking up at you.

“What?” you squeak.

“Erotica,” he responds casually. “This seems interesting though.”

You slowly approach the bed, joining Mingyu under the covers while he reaches to put your book back on your nightstand. 

“Uh…” you don’t even know what to say. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Mingyu laughs, pulling you close to his chest. “Why not? It’s not like I’m judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. Why would I? I think I read somewhere that men like visual porn and women lean towards the written stuff, nothing to be ashamed of.”

He really is the perfect man.

“Plus, I keep seeing shit on tiktok about booktok girls needing their bikertok boy, I don’t mind filling that role for you.” Another nonchalant comment that makes your heart do somersaults. “Although… aren’t all of you booktok girls into masked men and threesomes and shit?”

His words make you hide your face against his chest, shyness overcoming you. 

“Sorry, was that an overstep?” he laughs, rubbing your back with a large, warm hand.

“No, I’m just not used to talking about this, especially not with guys I just slept with.”

“The erotica you read is the fantasy you’re interested in, it would be a shame never to talk about it,” Mingyu muses. “That threesome between the demon knight and the guardian angel seemed pretty interesting.”

“God, you really weren’t supposed to read the book on my nightstand.” You can feel your skin getting hotter with embarrassment with each passing second.

“You’re adorable.” Mingyu cuddles you closer. “Look, I’m just going to put this out there, and if your answer is a no, then it’s a no… If you ever did want to try a threesome, Wonwoo would be into it.”

Now your heart is really racing, and your entire body stiffens in Mingyu’s embrace.

“Shit, my bad for even suggesting it,” Mingyu apologizes immediately.

“It’s not that…” you take a deep breath. If you’re going to continue things with Mingyu, he needs to know about your past - however unimportant it is - with Wonwoo. “Look… I uh… I matched with Wonwoo on a dating app last summer, nothing came out of it, but, I don’t know, I still feel awkward around him.”

Mingyu is silent for a few seconds, and you’re too scared to look up at his face, too scared of the expression you might find there.

“That would actually explain a lot,” Mingyu says finally. 

“It would?”

“Yeah, when I first introduced you two, he was more of an asshole than usual. And that first time I offered you a ride on my bike, he just took off. I kind of chalked it up to him being socially awkward sometimes around cute girls, but, now things make a bit more sense.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“It’s all good,” Mingyu assures you, rubbing your back. “Honestly, I’m pretty tired. How do you feel about the two of us staying here tonight, cuddling till we fall asleep, and talking more about this in the morning?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “That actually sounds perfect.”

Twelve - Wonwoo

As if listening to you and Mingyu fuck the first time wasn’t enough, Wonwoo had been woken up at three am, and then again at seven to the sound of your moans carrying through his walls.

His room is dark thanks to his black out curtains, but in the blackness of his room, Wonwoo finally snaps. He’d done his best to wear noise cancellers the first time, to put his head under his pillow the second, but now, Wonwoo has lost all of his resolve.

Your small whimpers are simply too hard to resist, and as Wonwoo’s hand slips down to his aching cock, he can’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had worked out with you all those months ago. It could be him that you’re under right now, not his best friend, and that’s a conflicting thought. 

Wonwoo lets out a quiet sigh as he begins to stroke his hard length. He closes his eyes, focusing on the muffled sounds of pleasure that make it through the walls.

When Mingyu had first mentioned that Wonwoo’s escapades had been keeping you up, he’d dismissed it, but now after being woken three times, he can see your annoyance. 

He’ll have to try to go easier on you. 

As Wonwoo works himself up to your moans, he wonders if you’ve ever been in this exact situation; touching yourself while he got off with someone else just a few feet through a wall.

The thought sends a shiver up Wonwoo’s spine and he shifts under his duvet, tossing the fabric off of himself, abdominal muscles clenching with delight.

From the sound of Mingyu’s thrusts and the headboard hitting the wall, Wonwoo’s pretty sure Mingyu is close already- fuck, he would be too if he had you to bury his morning wood into. And from the noises escaping you, Wonwoo knows you’re just as close.

He applies more pressure to his aching cock, speeding up his strokes- Wonwoo wants to cum with you and his roommate, although he’s not quite sure why. 

Sure, once you both cum, his entertainment is over, but there’s a need to be paired with you both, something that goes beyond a voyeuristic act like watching porn, which he could easily switch to when you’re finished if he wanted to prolong the experience.

A muffled “Fuck, I’m close” has Wonwoo’s entire body tensing, and as your moans crescendo, the tightly wound knot inside of him snaps. He lets out a gasp, pumping his cock while ropes of his own cum paint his chest. 

He wishes his hand was you, but the image of you instead of his hand is enough to make another wave of pleasure pass over him. He works himself through it to the point of overstimulation, finally stopping when the headboard sounds cease.

Wonwoo lays there for a moment, eyes closed, catching his breath.

When he finally turns his phone flashlight on and looks down at his chest, he realizes he’s cum more listening to you and Mingyu fuck than he’s probably ever cum inside of a girl.

It’s then that Wonwoo realizes how truly screwed he is. 

Thirteen

Seungkwan had nearly spat out his drink when you’d revealed Mingyu’s offer to invite Wonwoo into your bed. Soonyoung’s jaw had dropped, and it’s stayed that way. Seokmin looks like he’s having a panic attack, his cheeks all flushed, his hands tugging at the neckline of his dress shirt.

“So what are you going to do?” Seungkwan asks finally, taking a sip of his Gin and Tonic with his wide eyes glued to you.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admit, letting out a sigh.

“Bitch,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes, “don’t give us that. You read smutty threesome shit all the time, and here you are, being propositioned by your hot neighbour and his best friend, who both ride motorcycles, I might add- this is a fucking no brainer and we all know it.”

“You’ve been wanting a proper fuck session forever,” Soonyoung agrees.

“It’s actually like… one of your biggest things,” Seokmin points out, nodding. 

“But don’t you think this would be messy?” you ask. “Like, if these were randoms I’d never see again, it would be one thing- but they live next to me, and I’m low key dating Mingyu. Wonwoo doesn’t seem like the polyamory type.”

“Babes,” Seungkwan reaches a hand across the table to squeeze your forearm, “This doesn’t have to be polyamory. Wonwoo can just be some dude that fucks you with his bestie sometimes. You can mostly focus on Mingyu, I mean, after all, we all know you and Wonwoo don’t even really like each other after the whole… ghosting thing.” 

“Which is so valid,” Seokmin assures you, also reaching out to grab your hand. “Who suggests a group motorcycle trip as a first date, that was very stupid.”

“Plus, didn’t you mention hearing Wonwoo fuck some girl through your wall?” Soonyoung asks, playing with the straw in his bellini. “I bet you’re wondering why she was being so loud. I mean, obviously his dick game must be good.”

“I have been wondering,” you admit. “Mingyu is so soft with me, so good and gentle- Wonwoo seems like he might be the opposite.”

“And you’ll never really know until you give this a try.” Seungkwan pats your hand encouragingly. “I think you have your answer, babes. Go make those smutty dreams of yours come true, or you’ll regret it the rest of your life.” 

Fourteen

Mingyu’s been coming over more and more often. Even though his place is just next door, he tends to have a preference for holding you until he passes out in your bed. You don’t mind, being in his arms helps you get the best rest you’ve had in ages, and you never feel closer to him than you do when you wake up next to him in the morning.

It’s a Sunday, and you’re laying in bed. Mingyu had gotten up, decided he’d wanted you for breakfast, fucked your brains out, and now, you’re stroking each others skin while you catch your breaths.

“Are you thinking about something?” Mingyu asks, and you realize he must have noted your silence.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. He’s done his best to foster an environment of safety- you know you can talk to him about anything, and now seems as good a time as any to broach a few subjects that have been weighing you down.

“What are we doing?” you ask.

“We’re cuddling?”

You let out a laugh. “No, I mean… what are we doing? Like… I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and from the way you spoke at the start of all of this, it sounded like you were looking for a relationship, but ever since you mentioned inviting Wonwoo into bed, I guess I’m just a little confused about… the trajectory of this. Sharing the girl you want to date exclusively with your bestie just doesn’t seem like a usual start to a new relationship.” 

“Valid question,” he nods. “I can see where I caused some confusion… I guess, I mean- It’s not that I want to date you exclusively, I already am dating you exclusively, and I have been since the start.”

While this is news to you, you suppose it’s not the most surprising thing. Mingyu has been spending so much time with you lately, he’d have to be Superman or the world’s more snakey person to be able to juggle anyone else.

“When it comes to the whole Wonwoo thing- If I’m being honest, we’ve been friends forever. We’ve had like… three or four threesomes together? So I guess I feel comfortable inviting him because we have that foundation of trust there, and based on the stuff you read - correct me if I’m wrong - but I think a threesome is on your bucket list.”

Now this is some hot gossip. You’d never for a moment considered the idea that Wonwoo and Mingyu have shared girls together before- but now that the idea is out in the open, you feel stupid for it having never crossed your mind. 

“So there really wouldn’t be any jealousy or any problems if Wonwoo joined us?” you clarify.

“There never have been before. Wonwoo’s not the relationship type. If I honestly thought there would be a problem, I wouldn’t have brought it up,” Mingyu tells you. “Sounds like you’re open to it.”

“I am,” you admit. “Also… I’m exclusively seeing you too, by the way.”

Mingyu laughs. “I know, Angel. Wonwoo is an exception, the only exception.”

“Agreed.” 

“So…” Mingyu pulls you tighter to his chest. “Are we gonna bring this up with him?”

“Do you want to ask him?”

“I think we should do it together.”

The idea of bringing this up with Wonwoo makes your heart race. “You think he’ll react okay?”

“Angel, he matched with you on Tinder before, and tried to take you out three times, even if you did ghost him, you’re way too sexy for him to ever say no to.”

Fifteen

When you’d arrived at Mingyu’s place after dinner, he’d suggested a movie night. Wonwoo usually gets off work around one am, and with his Harley, Mingyu expected him to be back at one thirty at the latest. 

Around midnight, you’d fallen asleep, with Mingyu following close behind, and when the sound of the front door unlocking finally pulls you from your slumber, a quick check at the clock tells you it’s already past two.

Mingyu groans behind you, pulling you closer, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. 

Wonwoo walks into the den area in time to see the exchange, and he pauses by the open concept kitchen, staring at you in the dim darkness of the space. 

“What are you doing out here on the couch?” he asks.

“We were waiting for you,” you say softly, pushing at Mingyu’s hand in an effort to wake him up fully.

Wonwoo stays quiet, and after a moment, Mingyu finally groans and sits up, turning to look at his best friend. Mingyu rubs at his eyes, yawning. “We have something to talk to you about,” he mumbles.

“Let's hear it,” Wonwoo sighs, setting his helmet and gloves onto the kitchen counter before he goes to remove his leather jacket.

“You know what… maybe it’s too late for this,” you suggest, turning to look at Mingyu.

“Don’t be shy,” he encourages you, pulling you closer and kissing your throat. 

You note the way your body reacts, head tilting to the side to give him better access. It’s clear that you’re not as afraid of being watched as you’d thought you might be, and when your gaze shifts to Wonwoo, you find him staring at the place where you and Mingyu’s bodies connect.

A muscle in his jaw feathers, and you see the way his fist clenches at his side, but he stays silent.

“Do you want me to do it?” Mingyu asks.

“Yes, please.”

Mingyu gives a reassuring kiss to your cheek. “I know you two have a past-” he begins.

“She told you about that, did she?” Wonwoo interrupts.

“Uh huh, she’s a good girl like that,” Mingyu holds you tighter. “Anyways, I know you two have a past, and I know you’re attracted to each other-”

“Mingyu.” There’s a warning tone in Wonwoo’s voice now, and it makes your skin tingle. 

“I’m too tired to do this right,” Mingyu sighs, “but listen, she wants to try a threesome, we’ve done threesomes, I figured I’d put it on the table, if you’re interested.”

Wonwoo stands in the kitchen for a moment, then he lets out a sigh, turning and placing both of his hands on the counter. He looks down at the ground, and you wonder what’s going through his head.

“Aren’t you two dating?” he asks finally.

You open your mouth to respond but decide to shut it, turning to Mingyu to allow him to answer. “Yeah, I mean, we’re exclusive.”

“How can you be exclusive if you’re inviting me into a fucking threesome?” Wonwoo snaps.

“Because you’re you,” Mingyu shrugs. “Why do you seem mad?”

Wonwoo lets out a deep sigh. “This isn’t the right way to start a relationship, Gyu.”

You find it comical that Wonwoo - of all people - is trying to school Mingyu on how to treat a girl. 

“I’m pretty confident in us,” Mingyu grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You kind of love how sure he is, and it makes your trust in the budding relationship feel even stronger. “Look, if you don’t want to-”

“I want to.” 

It feels like the air is knocked from your lungs. Yes, you’ve considered this for weeks, but part of you never really thought it would get this far, never thought Wonwoo would actually agree-

“I’ve been listening to you two fuck through a wall for weeks,” Wonwoo continues. “Of course I fucking want to.”

“So what’s the problem?” Mingyu asks, brows furrowing at why his friend still sounds so angry.

Wonwoo turns to look at you. “This is going to complicate things.”

“Only if you let it,” Mingyu argues. “Look, you’re both overthinkers, and I get that, but with me here, I’ll keep us all grounded, I promise.”

“It’s not that easy,” Wonwoo sighs.

“It can be, if you both let it be.” He sounds so sure, and you want to believe him on this-

“So is this just going to be a one time thing?” Wonwoo asks, and you note the way his gaze shifts from his roommate to you. Then you feel Mingyu’s eyes too.

“Uh… I hadn’t thought that far,” you admit.

“We could always just go with the flow,” Mingyu suggests.

“You know I’m not that kind of guy,” Wonwoo retorts.

“Honestly, I know it was just a simple case of ghosting, but you two don’t seem to actually like each other that much,” Mingyu points out, “unless I’m misreading something. So how about we give it a shot, and go from there?”

Wonwoo looks to you, and after a moment to consider it, you nod, he mirrors the motion soon after.

“Fine. I’m in.”

“Can you try to sound more enthusiastic?” Mingyu teases. “This is my Angel I’m letting you get a taste of.”

“Don’t test your luck,” Wonwoo warns. “Are we doing this right now?”

“I’m already half hard just thinking about it,” Mingyu grins. “Are you up for this, Angel?”

Things are happening a little fast for you, but you worry that if you don’t bite the bullet and try this now, you might chicken out if you give yourself enough time to overthink and talk yourself out of it. 

“Let’s do it,” you respond. 

Wonwoo stares at you from the kitchen, and you wait to see who will move first. Finally, Wonwoo nods. “Okay, my room.”

He walks away without another word. Mingyu is quick to get up, reaching down to tug you to your feet. You’re a little shocked at how abrupt Wonwoo is being, and how quick Mingyu is to act on Wonwoo’s locational choice.

You’ve never seen the inside of Wonwoo’s room, and you find it even more minimally furnished than the rest of the apartment. With nothing but a bed, a dresser and a gaming station set up, Wonwoo clearly has very few loves in his life. There are no books, no clothes strewn about- it almost looks like a room straight from the Ikea Catalogue with the theme ‘my ocd teenage gamer’s sanctuary.’

The only thing of any true interest, is a tiled wall mount light piece, and from the way Wonwoo is standing near it and looking down at his phone, you’re pretty sure it’s bluetooth. As Mingyu leads you to go sit with him on the bed, the tiles begin to change colour, and you’re not even surprised when Wonwoo goes for a red hue that makes this entire situation feel correctly sinful.

Mingyu sits behind you, prompting you to settle on his lap. His hands find your thighs, stroking you through your sweatpants. You can tell he’s waiting on something, and when Wonwoo finally looks up at the two of you, setting his phone down, you realize just how much power you’re about to hand over to the man you’d ghosted all those months ago.

Wonwoo approaches you and Mingyu, coming to stand right in front of you. He meets your gaze, but he’s quiet. You hold your tongue, knowing that now is not the time to start being a brat.

“So,” Wonwoo says finally. “My guess is Mingyu’s been going easy on you since you started fucking.”

Mingyu lets out a laugh behind you, and you find yourself wanting to defend him. “I wouldn’t say he’s been going easy on me-”

“I’m going to make an assessment, and you’re going to tell me if I’m wrong,” Wonwoo states. “You look like the kind of girl who wants to be dominated. The shy ones can sometimes be the kinkiest girls you’ll ever meet, and something tells me that if you’re interested in a threesome - interested enough to let me be the one to come in here and fuck you - you’ve got some specific itches that need to be scratched. Mingyu’s a vanilla boy. He doesn’t even like to call sleeping with a girl fucking. I’m betting he gives you everything you want, never makes you work for it, or beg for it, or any of that shit. The guy wakes up three times a night to rail you for fuck’s sake. So I’m guessing, even though he probably meets most of your needs, there’s something you’re missing that Mingyu thinks I can provide.”

Mingyu’s mouth finds your throat, pressing soft kisses that wordlessly tell you he’s not about to answer this assessment, it’s fully on you.

“I…” you swallow thickly. “I guess, I mean, that sounds correct.”

“You’re happy with Mingyu.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but you find the need to answer it anyways, so you nod quickly. 

“Very happy.”

“But he doesn’t dominate you.”

You shake your head.

“And tonight, you want someone to tell you what to do.”

You nod.

“You want someone to make you scream the way I made that other girl scream, the girl that kept you up at night. You want what I was giving her.”

“God, yes,” you admit, letting out a shuddery breath. You can feel Mingyu smile against your throat, and he wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close to his chest. You can feel his cock straining up against your ass, and it’s driving you wild already.

“What’s off the table?” Wonwoo asks. “Be thorough.”

“I think… no anal. Hard pass on anal, at least, right now,” you start. “And… please don’t be mean to me? Like… don’t degrade me?”

“If you’re our good girl, there will be no reason to degrade you, will there?” Wonwoo says smoothly, reaching out to cup your jaw. His thumb brushes by your lips and you open your mouth for him, accepting the digit that presses flat to your tongue. “See, you’re just a good girl looking for direction, there won’t be a problem tonight.”

He removes his hand, and part of you mourns the loss. 

“Everything else is on the table?” he clarifies.

“Nothing gross.”

“Nothing gross,” Wonwoo repeats with a laugh. “I guess that’s all subjective, but I get what you mean.”

God, you wonder what dirty, nasty things this man has done in his lifetime. 

“Safeword?” Wonwoo asks next.

You take a deep breath, only needing a moment to consider one. “Harley.” 

Mingyu groans behind you, his hands teasing up your thighs, closer and closer to where you need him while he begins to suck on your sweet spot. You can tell from his reaction that the safe word pleased him, and you know that everyone is aware how close you are to letting the fun actually begin.

Wonwoo has done his due diligence, now, he just has to do you.

“Gyu, how about you get her warmed up?” Wonwoo suggests, and the man you’re sitting on wastes no time with the request. Mingyu immediately slips his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers finding your clit through your panties while you squirm on his lap.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, “she’s so wet already.”

“That’s no surprise,” Wonwoo says nonchalantly, pivoting and moving away.

You watch him go, curious as to what he’s up to. Mingyu, meanwhile, is focused on getting your attention. He pushes your panties to the side, stroking your pussy, teasing as if he’s about to dip his fingers into you, only to circle your clit again.

You snap way too easily, turning to press kisses along his jaw. You reach a hand up to cup his cheek, prompting him to meet your lips. All it takes is a little tongue action for Mingyu to also break, finally slipping a digit into your wet core.

You whimper at the feeling, grinding down on his hand. The wiggling of your hips adds friction to the front of Mingyu’s pants, and he releases his own groan of pleasure. 

He adds a second finger and you find yourself gasping. Your thighs spread to accommodate Mingyu. His slow stroking is driving you wild, and the ever constant pressure on your clit only intensifies the situation.

“Lay her down,” Wonwoo’s voice snaps you out of your Mingyu haze, and you break the kiss to blink up at Wonwoo.

You notice something in his hands, but before you can get a better look, Mingyu is pulling his hand from your core and standing up, taking you with him. 

He gently places you onto the bed, tearing off your pants. His fingers go to hook in your underwear, but one tutting sound from Wonwoo makes him stop in his tracks.

“Leave those on for now,” Wonwoo instructs. “You might be skipping things because you’re needy, but I remember your panty kink.”

Panty kink? Mingyu has a panty kink?

Fuck.

You wonder how much Wonwoo knows about Mingyu’s sexual preferences, things that you haven’t even learned yet.

No matter how worried you were about this before you agreed to a threesome, it’s becoming more and more clear that Wonwoo might carry the keys to unlocking Mingyu’s full potential in bed- now, you’re worried what that means for the fully monogamous aspect of your relationship.

“Take off your shirt and bra for us,” Wonwoo prompts next. “I want to see you.”

His voice had softened at the end of the request, and the fact that Wonwoo has a good mix between commanding, and a tone that’s almost on the pleading side, has you immediately making good on what he’s just asked of you.

You slip your shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. Arching your back, you get at the clasp of your bra, and soon, it joins the discarded fabric next to the bed.

Mingyu gets onto the mattress between your thighs, his hands stroking up your legs, which spread for him again.

“Here,” Wonwoo tosses the thing he’d been holding onto your chest.

When you pick it up, you realize it’s a blindfold.

Wonwoo meets your questioning gaze. “Put that on. You trust us, right?” 

You swallow thickly, then, you slip on the blindfold, obscuring your vision completely.

“That’s our good girl,” Wonwoo muses, and his satisfaction has your core throbbing. He’s being a lot nicer than you’d hoped he would be- part of you had wondered if this would a rage fueled fuck, revenge for the ghosting. But the way Wonwoo’s treating you- it’s clear he has no animosity toward you for your past, regardless of the cold way he’s been acting toward you up until tonight.

Even with the blindfold, it’s clear who’s still rubbing your legs. And when Mingyu shifts his weight, bending down to press kisses along your inner thighs, you know it’s still him.

Although there aren’t any surprises happening in terms of who is touching you, with your vision cut off, every brush of Mingyu against your skin feels even more intense. Without the pressure of keeping your eyes open, or following the action with your gaze, you can simply lay back and enjoy what’s happening.

Mingyu’s mouth reaches your core, and his breath through the fabric makes you twitch.

When his tongue makes contact with your wet panties, you both let out groans. The world seems suspended in anticipated pleasure, if even just for a moment, before Mingyu practically dives in.

His tongue pushes at your panties, and the teasing aspect of his muscle prodding at your core has your stomach already twisting into knots. It’s like he’s trying to devour your underwear, trying to push his tongue through so he can get at you-

You’d never imagined keeping your pussy covered with a thin piece of fabric would reveal to you how desperate Mingyu is to properly be eating you.

Your hands reach down, tangling in Mingyu’s hair, and you begin to grind against his face, using his nose to add pressure to your clit.

Something brushes by your nipple, and you practically jump at the contact. Then, the soft bud is pinched between two fingers. It’s not a hard pinch, not enough to hurt, but enough to have your pussy throbbing even more from the idea of pain. 

You also know that it’s Wonwoo who has finally decided to touch you, and you’re kind of scared of the effect that’s having.

Mingyu doesn’t even notice his friend beginning to play with your tits, he’s much too distracted by licking your core through your panties. You’d bet that if you took your blind fold off right now, you’d find his own eyes closed, his mind completely consumed by the act of being close to your pussy without really being able to get at it.

“Does he feel good?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh,” you nod, tightening your grip in Mingyu’s hair so you can grind harder against his mouth.

“He’s already nearly breaking,” Wonwoo muses, “how far along are you?”

“I-” You swallow thickly. “I don’t know.”

“I want you to enjoy the teasing, want you to be brought to the edge like this, and when you’re finally about to snap, I’ll let him pull your panties to the side. You can ride his face while you cum for us.”

Your muscles clench at his words, and you nod quickly. “Okay.”

“Where are your manners?” He pinches your nipple even more roughly, and you let out a delighted squeal.

“Okay, yes, thank you, thank you, Wonwoo,” you correct yourself.

“Good girl.” The pinching subsides, but you almost miss the pain. “You look good like this.”

“Thank you!” you blurt out, not wanting to fumble your manners so early just because he’s being sweet to you.

Wonwoo’s fingers leave your breast, and your focus shifts to Mingyu again. He’s begun rubbing his nose against your clit, and you’d bet that Wonwoo’s words about getting you to the edge have inspired the motion.

Mingyu knows that clit stimulus will get you there faster than the teasing of his tongue along your panties, and you give yourself to the pleasure he’s providing.

Wet lips wrap around your nipple and your body jolts. One your hands immediately flies to the back of Wonwoo’s head, threading through his soft curls while he sucks on you. He releases a groan of satisfaction. You respond with a whimper of your own, pushing your chest up toward his mouth.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

Having two sexy men worship you is making your body short circuit faster than it ever has before.

You can feel your orgasm rising in your stomach, and before you even know it, you’re letting out a gasp. “Fuck, I’m close- shit, thank you, fuck, I’m gonna-”

You can’t even finish your sentence, Mingyu tugs your panties to the side, pushing two digits into your hole while his lips find your clit, sucking the sensitive bud while he groans like a starved man.

Wonwoo’s teeth simultaneously graze your nipple, and the combination of stimuli is enough to throw you over the edge.

Your pussy clamps down on Mingyu’s fingers, waves of pleasure exploding out from your core. The loudest moan you’ve ever released sings out of you, and your grip tightens in both of their curls. You’re used to having one anchor, Mingyu, who you hold onto to keep you from floating too high to cloud nine, but now, even with two anchors, you still find yourself drifting away into a state of bliss you’ve never even dreamed of.

Wonwoo’s free hand finds your neglected breast, and a pinch at your nipple has even more electric energy surging through you, your back arching at how intense this all is.

Mingyu hasn’t stopped between your thighs, his fingers are unrelenting inside of your throbbing core, his tongue flicking your clit better than any vibrator or toy ever has.

You cum, and cum, and cum-

Mingyu releases a sinful groan, and you can feel something splash your inner thighs. Mingyu pulls away from your clit, licking up the liquid-

Wonwoo’s mouth leaves your breasts, and you can feel his gaze slipping between your legs.

“Fuck, I didn’t know you could squirt, baby,” he muses, massaging your breast in a way that almost feels loving.

“I didn’t-” you struggle to speak amidst your moans, “I can’t-

“No one’s ever made you squirt before?” Wonwoo finishes your sentence for you.

“No, sir, I mean- yes, sir-”

You hear Wonwoo let out a chuckle, and he pinches your nipple, making you cry out even more. “Sir, huh? Looks like our good girl has really learned her manners, Gyu.”

You’re not sure where the title had come from, but calling Wonwoo ‘sir’ had just felt right, it still feels right, as you writhe against his bed sheets.

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Wonwoo sighs. Fingers brush by your cheek, and the sudden touch makes you flinch. “She’s crying, Gyu.”

Mingyu groans deeply, his fingers coming to a stop in your pussy. When he removes them, and both men pull away, you can finally take a deep breath after the intensity of your orgasm. Your entire body shudders as you try to steady yourself after what they’ve just given you.

In the periphery, you can hear a wet sucking sound, and you’d bet your life that Mingyu is licking his fingers clean.

“Squirting all over him like that got your boyfriend hard as fuck, baby, I think I’ll be nice and let him fuck you now.”

God, there’s so much you want to think about with that sentence- specifically the way Wonwoo just referred to Mingyu as your boyfriend, a term that you haven’t yet used- but you’re also so needy for Mingyu’s cock now that you can’t sit and ponder the relationship development. 

“Yes, please, Mingyu, fuck, need your cock-” you whine, reaching down to tug your panties off-

Another set of hands grabs the fabric, and before you can fumble to get your underwear down your legs, Mingyu simply tears them in two to get at you.

His cockhead is rubbing against your soaked folds a moment later, and you let out a whimper of desperation. 

“Fuck, Angel, you’re doing so good for us,” Mingyu groans, slipping the head into you.

“Gyu-” you whimper, grabbing at the bed sheets, your eyes rolling into the back of your head from the stretch of his girthy tip.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he tells you, one hand flattening on your abdomen to keep you still. “I could slide all the way in like this-”

“Do it,” Wonwoo says simply. “Bet she’d fucking love that.”

“I would,” you agree, whimpering at the idea of him filling you up with one powerful thrust. “Please, split me open-”

The words no sooner leave your mouth than Mingyu is doing just as you’d asked. In one motion, he sinks the entirety of his cock into your wet, ready hole. 

His hips hit flush to your own, and you release something between a cry and a scream. Your inner walls struggle desperately to accommodate the large intrusion that your body is still not used to even after fucking Mingyu countless times.

Before Mingyu, ‘Like a Virgin’ had just been a Madonna song, now, it’s something you understand completely.

Mingyu’s mouth finds your neck as he leans his entire, large, muscled body over your own. His lips are hot as they suckle on your sweet spot, and you grab at his strong shoulders, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He starts slow with his motions, only pulling out slightly. With each small rut, his cock sinks so deep that it hits a spot that makes you go mind numb.

You’re a gasping, wriggling mess for Mingyu, and from the sounds leaving his own lips, you know he loves it.

His pace starts to increase. You can feel your pussy tingling with each thrust, the vein along the underside of his cock stimulating your walls perfectly.

Mingyu draws your lips to his own, and you find yourself in a desperate clash of tongues. 

“How cute,” Wonwoo’s voice draws you back to reality. “For the record, baby, I’ve never seen Mingyu this into someone.”

God, why is he being so nice to you?

Why does the thought that you make Mingyu come undone unlike anyone else have your pussy throbbing?

Your hand moves before your mind even registers what you’re doing. It flails out toward Wonwoo’s voice, and you’re pretty sure you make contact with his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Wonwoo asks, tone shifting.

You break the kiss with Mingyu, and his lips find your throat while you address his friend. “Wanna touch.”

Wonwoo is silent, and moments feel like minutes. Then, you hear a belt buckle, and a zipper being pulled down.

“You just wanna touch?” Wonwoo prompts. 

Before you can even respond, Mingyu is nipping at your ear. He’s breathing heavily, fucking you faster. “Do you wanna suck him off, Angel? I won’t be mad if you do.”

This is a threesome, it wouldn’t be fair if Wonwoo didn’t get a bit of you too…

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Wonwoo prompts.

“Yes, I wanna suck you off,” you clarify, doing your best to make your voice sound confident.

Mingyu groans, and then he pulls off of you. You whine at the loss of him, but he flips you onto all fours, pulling your ass into the air so he can push his cock into you again. You do your best to steady yourself on your hands, and the bed dips in front of you, signaling Wonwoo’s arrival.

“Here,” Wonwoo’s voice is soft, as soft as his touch when he pulls the blindfold off of you. “Wanna see that pretty face when you choke around my cock.”

In the red light from the tiled wall mount, Wonwoo looks insane. Yeah, a little insane in the crazy way, but insanely sexy too.

He’s taken his shirt off, and you’re shocked to find washboard abs that make you drool immediately. His curls are all flouncy and illuminated by the red, like a halo, or even devil horns. His jeans are undone, but he doesn’t have his cock out yet, which you kind of appreciate.

Although you can see his length straining against the black denim, he didn’t immediately stick his dick down your throat, he’s giving you time to adjust to the new position.

You blink up at him, and Wonwoo smiles, cupping your cheek. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

“So good,” Mingyu echoes, digging his fingers into your hips as he begins to fuck you like a mad man.

“Sir,” you breathe.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I suck you off now?”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Go for it.”

You realize he’s not going to help you take his cock out, not yet at least. It’s difficult to hold yourself up with one hand while Mingyu fucks you, your free one reaching for his jeans. You hook your fingers in the fabric, trying to tug them down.

Part of you thinks Wonwoo likes watching you struggle. He’s said he’d be nice, wouldn’t degrade you, and he’s not, but this feels like it’s bordering on humiliation. 

Here you are, getting fucked stupid, holding yourself up on one shaky hand while the other tugs desperately at his pants, trying to free his cock so you can have it sink down your throat-

“You’re cute,” Wonwoo muses, finally giving in.

He pushes his pants down, his cock springing up against his abdomen.

He’s long. Maybe not as long as Mingyu, and not as thick either, but that just means you might actually be able to take him fully into your mouth, unlike your boyfriend’s monster cock that you can’t even fully suck halfway.

Even though Wonwoo isn’t as big as Mingyu, he’s confident in himself, and that makes things all the more sexy.

He grabs the base of his length, holding the tip out for you.

Meeting his eyes, you open your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

Wonwoo taps himself along the wet muscle, then he teases the tip just past your lips- you go to wrap your mouth around him, only for him to pull back with a laugh. “Eager, are you?”

You nod, “uh huh.”

He doesn’t even tut at you for your lack of manners, after all, you’re still holding your mouth open for him, unwilling to close it if even for a few moments to say a ‘yes, sir.’

“I guess I can give it to you,” Wonwoo sighs. Although he’s trying to sound unbothered, you can tell from his leaky red tip that he’s just as turned on by this as you are. You can see through Wonwoo now, and you wonder how that’s going to impact your opinion of him.

This man who likes to seem hard and domineering, who likes to appear nonchalant- you wonder what kind of thoughts are swimming in that pretty head of is.

Wonwoo slips his cock into your mouth, and you immediately begin to suck it, twirling your tongue along the tip. He pushes in another inch, testing your abilities. His eyes are fixed on yours, and you stare up at him, wanting to please.

Mingyu fucks you harder, prompting you forward onto Wonwoo’s cock. You take more and more of him, doing your best to relax and focus on the pleasure Mingyu is giving you, rather than the uncomfortable feeling of a heavy dick on your tongue.

You enjoy giving oral, but you’ve always found it easier to have some other stimulus to anchor yourself- Mingyu’s cock splitting you open is just the right amount of distraction. When Wonwoo hits the back of your throat, you hardly choke, too enraptured by Mingyu behind you to carefully about your gag reflex.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Wonwoo tells you, having watched for your limits and reactions.

He begins to thrust now, matching Mingyu’s motions. It’s a push pull, and you kind of love being used like this, having two cock filling you up. They’re almost synchronized, and it turns you on that they’ve done this before, that they’re familiar with each other.

You couldn’t imagine a better pair to lose your threesome virginity to.

Wonwoo’s hand grabs your hair, and you watch as he throws his head bad, letting out a groan.

Fuck, he’s so sexy- they both are. Mingyu’s grip on your hips is even tighter, and you know what that means.

“I’m close,” your boyfriend announces.

“Well I just started,” Wonwoo retorts. “Hold it.”

You’re shocked that Mingyu doesn’t even fight back, his thrusts simply slow down a notch. Wonwoo, meanwhile, speeds up, and you do your best to hollow your cheeks around his cock, sucking on him like you’ve never sucked on anyone before.

“You’re good with your mouth, baby,” Wonwoo praises you.

“She’s so good,” Mingyu agrees, reaching a hand around your body so he can rub your clit.

You jolt at the contact, pussy clenching desperately around Mingyu’s cock.

“Fuck, Woo, we’re both close-” Mingyu groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder, his breath hot across your skin.  

“I guess I can make this quick,” Wonwoo grunts, hips shuddering.

Mingyu draws fluid, lazy circles on your clit, speckling your shoulders with kisses while he ruts slowly into your core. You suck on Wonwoo diligently, like it’s your job- after all, it is your job to make him cum in order for you and Mingyu to get there too.

The pressure in your abdomen is getting tighter and tighter, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold off, especially with the sounds Mingyu’s making-

“You two are so needy,” Wonwoo muses, letting out a small chuckle. “Fuck.” 

“You gotta let her cum,” Mingyu practically begs. “She’s squeezing me like a fucking vice, dude- this is torture.”

Wonwoo’s hips jolt at Mingyu’s words, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You feel your muscles constrict around both of them, and they both groan in response.

“You’re too good at this,” Wonwoo tells you. “When I cum, you both get to cum.”

It’s not an outward admittance that he’s close, but you can tell he is. His stomach muscles are clenching with effort as he uses your face, and the small groans of pleasure leaving him are higher in number now.

He fucks your face even faster, and Mingyu takes this as a cue to begin fucking you properly again. “Can you rub your clit, Angel?” he asks. “I need to grab your hips.”

You moan a sound of affirmation around Wonwoo, holding yourself up on one wobbly hand while the other slips between your legs.

“That’s it,” Mingyu groans, straightening behind you and taking hold of your hips with both hands. His pace matches Wonwoo’s now, and you can feel your orgasm so close-

You can almost taste it.

In fact, you can taste Wonwoo’s, a strangled gasp escaping him as he cums down your throat suddenly.

“Our turn, Angel,” Mingyu moans, pace quickening to a speed that would almost be painful if it wasn’t so pleasurable. Your fingers are rough on your own clit, and you do your best to swallow every drop of Wonwoo’s spend.

When he pulls out of your mouth, you breathe in a strangled gasp- only for moans of pleasure to escape you uncensored.

“Fuck, that’s it, Angel, almost there, almost there-” Mingyu groans. “Fuck, cum for me, cum for us- fuck, cum on my cock-”

His words throw you over the edge. You lean forward, resting your cheek against Wonwoo’s thigh while your orgasm overtakes you. Waves of pleasure surge through your body, making you shake- Mingyu’s hands hold your hips steady, keeping you where he wants you while he fucks you through your high, coating your insides with his thick cum.

You’re both moaning messes, completely given over to the ecstasy that you find in each other.

Your hand falls from between your legs, and soon, Mingyu’s motions stop. He keeps himself buried inside of you, trying to catch his breath.

“I’ll get some tissue,” Wonwoo says. He pulls away from you, and you collapse face first onto the bed, shuddering from the aftershocks of your high.

Mingyu’s hands begin to stoke your body, a silent assurance that you did well for them.

Wonwoo comes back with tissues, and Mingyu pulls out. You bring the kleenex to your dripping hole, careful not to get any cum onto Wonwoo’s bed-

Which is when you remember you squirted all over the comforter already.

You lay on your back, giggling to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Wonwoo asks. Fingers go to pinch your nipple and you flinch, rolling away from him.

“I got squirt all over your bed,” you tell him.

“Naughty girl,” he says, but there’s an inkling of pride in his tone.

“It’s okay,” Mingyu says, reaching to pull you off the bed. “I’m going to go clean her up, you can throw your stuff in the laundry, and we can stay in my room tonight.”

You’re not sure why the idea of sleeping next to Wonwoo feels more intimate than the fact that he just came down your throat, but ten minutes later, when you’re snuggling between the two men, you find yourself almost unsure of how to act.

Mingyu’s already passed out, soft snores filling the room, and it’s Wonwoo who notices your unease as you shift under the sheets.

“Relax,” he tells you, his hands drawing you to his chest. “You’re safe with us.”

For some reason, his words actually calm you down, and after a few more deep breaths, you pass out on the chest of the man you’d ghosted over half a year ago.

Epilogue

It’s been two months since you and Mingyu invited Wonwoo into your bed. Two months of great sex, but it’s even deeper than that.

Mingyu is outwardly your boyfriend, and he loves showing his claim over you every chance he gets, but Wonwoo is still on the fence about where he fits in your relationship. 

You’re at the bar where Wonwoo works, it’s a place you’ve been becoming more of a regular at. Mingyu is out with Cheol, but he’ll be meeting you shortly. Right now, all there is to do is wait and try not to flirt with Wonwoo too hard while he mixes drinks. 

Wonwoo is chatting with another regular, an old guy who keeps looking over at you. Finally, the man asks, “How do you two know each other?”

You and Wonwoo exchange a look. You wait for him to define the relationship, after all, out of everyone in your odd little throuple, Wonwoo’s the one who likes to go slowest when it comes to relationship milestones.

After a moment of consideration, Wonwoo responds, “She’s a friend. Dating my roommate.”

“Ah, okay,” the man nods.

It hurts for Wonwoo to not claim you the way you wish he would, but at the same time, you understand his hesitancy. 

When you’d first started fucking Wonwoo, you’d thought he was a doberman to Mingyu’s golden retriever, but now, you think he’s more of a black cat. If you move too fast or too sudden, you’re afraid of scaring him off, and that’s the last thing you’d want to do.

With a sigh, you lift your drink to your lips. You suppose having one boyfriend who claims you with all of his heart makes up for having another who is still unsure about what to call you.

But it doesn’t mean things hurt any less. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm happy I was able to get this fic out in time for spring :) when I tell you this shit was five months in the making-

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview.  Mingyu gives you all the love you’ve ever dreamed of from your romance novels. And Wonwoo gives you all the kinky sex you’ve fantasized about from the erotica you read. It’s the best of both worlds, and as Wonwoo sinks his cock into your wet pussy, you begin to suck on Mingyu.

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, unprotected sex, sex in an alley, sex over a Harley motorcycle, eiffle tower/ spit roasting, quickie, blow job, deep throating, dirty talk, praise, cum/filling kink, inklings of humiliation, Wonwoo is a little rough,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!reader

bonus

“I’m just gonna head outside with Cheol for a quick vape break,” Mingyu tells you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before he exits the bar with his buddy.

You turn to Wonwoo, who is busy mixing some elaborate drink for a group of cougars a few seats down. It’s a decent night here at his workplace, it’s summer now, so most evenings are good for him.

“Is this seat taken?” You turn to see the regular from a few months ago standing there, and you’re quick to offer him the chair, after all, you and Mingyu will be leaving soon anyways. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the man asks.

You exchange a look with Wonwoo. “Yeah, I uh… I met you a few months ago,” you try to explain, pointing at your bartender. “I’m this guy’s friend.”

“Right, dating his roommate, now I remember,” the man nods.

Wonwoo has stopped what he’s doing, and he’s staring at you.

There’s a hint of danger in his eyes, and you’re not quite sure why. Then he sets down his drink, coming around the bar, and grabbing your arm. “Come outside,” he instructs. 

“What? Now?” you ask in shock, looking around at the bartop that's full of people who need drinks. “You’re working!”

“I don’t care. Come.”

☀️to read the full 2.2k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @runahways - @milkteade - @mocha000

@anothershorthuman - @notbeforelong - @darthlunaa

@librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono - @lovelyhan -

@grilledbananas - @quennlenn - @zezedoesshit

@unlikelysublimekryptonite - @wonwoothinker

svt taglist

@candidupped - @cheolussy - @aaniag - @imprettyweird

thanks to those who interacted with the teaser!

@kyungsooislifeu - @beautifulnctzen - @cecefarm

@horanghaezone - @gyuminusone - @lovely-ficsfor-me

@fixonbreakoff - @babieculture - @sashaaahh - @justhereforkpop

@mitzoa - @weakformingyu - @hannieween - @multislut

@piplupnani - @thelost-soul - @asyre - @acolytees - @axo-l0tl

@btsreadss - @amazinggraxia - @pandabur666 - @jky001

@bemysolaces - @megseungmin - @thasecrets

@saintksy - @kundann

[koostattoos]

➳ wait for your love || j.jk

~ Synopsis — simply loving is not enough

~ Genre — strangers to friends(?) to lovers, college au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, slight fwb, unrequited love

Warnings/content — 3D jk, light angst, smut, major fluff, jk is a fuckboy, yearning, a lot of miscommunication, a lot of crying, smoking, slight drinking, he rides a motorcycle, oc is a bad b, big dick!jk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral (f&m. receiving), 69, soft sex, missionary, doggy, aftercare (he's not a total asshole), multiple sex scenes, consensual sex tape, multiple orgasms, pining, complicated feelings, poor communication, bad boy!jk, ot7 cameo!

~ words — 25.6k

• currently play — we can’t be friends (wait for your love) by Ariana Grande and opera house by Cigarettes After Sex

“you got me misunderstood but atleast i look this good, we can’t be friends but i’d like to just pretend, you cling to your paper and pens, wait until you like me again, wait for your love

“i’ve got a love for you i just can’t escape, all of my love for you cuts me like barbed wire"

playlist <3

Love is a strange thing. A very complicated feeling to figure out yet some find it very simple. In this case, love is something that she found simple, it was something she was fond of when she saw her friends experience it. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel it; he refused to. Deep down inside, he knew he couldn’t reciprocate the feeling of love. He tried so hard to, but he just couldn’t grasp on tight enough. So, he did what he did best, he let everything go.

~

 Jungkook can’t think straight. He’s been stored away in his apartment for the past few days. Unable to get up from bed and be productive, wasting away and rotting in his room. His roommate and best friend, Jimin, has been managing the place himself; cleaning, cooking, basically everything a home needs to function. He’s done everything he possibly could to get his friend out of his room. “Jungkook-ah, you need to get up. It’s three o'clock in the afternoon and I haven’t seen you all day, you need to eat” he calls from outside his door

 It’s silent on the other end of the room; only shuffling could be heard from his bed. Jungkook hasn’t heard anything back from you since your argument. It’s been radio silent from your end the phone. He constantly checks his phone to find something from you. He misses your voice. He misses you. He couldn’t bring himself to bother you even more. Not after the damage he’s caused to you and your relationship.

Summer

The bell at the top of the door constantly rings through the busy cafe as customers come and go. It’s been getting busier as the weather outside begins to heat up with the season change. Your hair is kept away from covering your face with a hair tie pulling it away in a low ponytail. The air conditioner is blasting cool air and keeping the hot air where it’s supposed to be, outside.

“Order for Jihoon!” you yell over the bustling cafe. You’ve been told that summer is one of the busiest times of the year for the cafe, second to winter time. The bell rings once again with new incoming customers, you look up from the cash register to find a young man around your age entering with his friends. His big and bold eyes find contact with yours across the room. A smile is displayed on his face, deep dimples grow as he laughs at whatever his friend says. He parts from his friends as he walks up to you to place an order. “Hello, what can I get for you today?,” he stares up at the menu behind you, glazing through his options. “Uh, let’s see” he pauses.

“Can I please get three iced americanos and,” he turns to look back at his friends again. “Which one did you want?” he asked the boy with the blonde hair “The chocolate muffin” The boy in front of you turned back to you. “And the chocolate muffin,” he repeated

You ring up his order and hand him his receipt. “Your total will be fifteen dollars and twelve cents” he fishes out for his wallet in his pocket and hands you the money. He watches you as you continue with the register. “And can I get a name for the order?” 

“Yes, Jungkook” he smiles at you

For some odd reason, his heart rate picks up as he’s talking to you. A strand of hair falls in front of your face and he can’t help but notice how pretty you are. Jungkook’s never seen you in town before. Snapping out of his trance you place your hand out to give him his remaining change. “Alright, your order will be out in just a few minutes, Jungkook” Reaching his hand out, he takes the money and nods his head to you. “Thank you,” he looks down at your name tag and gives you a bright smile. “___” 

The kind look he gives makes your cheeks turn into a rosy red. Tucking the piece of hair that’s fallen out of place behind your ear, you smile back at him.  Jungkook walks back sitting at a small table his friends decided to sit at and takes a seat in front of his blonde friend. “She was cute,” Jimin finally says, having watched the interaction between you and his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen her around here before. She must be new to town," his other friend, Taehyung says. “Me neither, but she is pretty though,” He says as he plays with the small piece of paper you handed to him. That same smile reappears on Jungkook’s lips. “You should go ask her for her number, it’s been what? Years? Since you last got some” Jimin teases. 

“It hasn’t been years, dumbass. I just don’t want to jump into anything. I think it’s a waste of time”, It’s true. Jungkook hasn’t had a serious relationship since he was a junior in high school going into his senior year. He’s a senior in college now. Now he’s perfectly fine finding himself some fun, and by fun, he means sleeping with a handful of many different women; he doesn’t need a specific person to do that with. “Order for Jungkook!” your voice resounds in the now-settled cafe. Perking up at the sound of his name, the chair screeches across the floor as Jungkook stands up to retrieve his food. 

“Thank you,” he says again. “You’re welcome,” you give him a sweet smile. This time, Jungkook’s the one to blush. You watch as he gives you a small smile back, picking up his food, and turning back around to his group of friends.

“We miss you over here, it’s like nothing is fun anymore” You didn’t have much choice but to leave your friends back at your old school. The school here offered you much better opportunities than they did back in Gwangju. Taking a leap of faith, you packed your stuff and moved everything to Incheon. You knew little to no people here. Having never been here you had zero time to make any friends. Everything happened so suddenly you have had your main focus on trying to survive off of a fresh start. The move happened in the middle of summer break. 

Hoseok agreed to drive down to help you move all your stuff into your new apartment. The dorms were more expensive than you had thought, so getting a summer job and looking for cheaper housing was your best bet at living to see a new day in this new city. “I miss you guys too. You guys should come down here. Leave Gwangju for a bit, I feel like I haven’t seen you guys in ages” The rest of your friends decided to stay back and plan out their new classes for the new upcoming year. 

Sure, you were disappointed, but you didn’t want to hold them back from planning their future. They had been supportive of your decision to move three hours away from them. You had told them that they could visit you whenever they wanted to.

“Yeah, I know. I promise I’ll get everyone down there whenever we can, don’t have too much fun over there without me though!” he teases you over the phone. Laughing at him, you pull your keys out from your pocket to unlock your door. Stepping inside your phone is placed between your cheek and your shoulder as you balance holding your new house plant and a small box you had forgotten in your car. 

You close your door shut with your foot and place the box on your small dining table. Your apartment was small but big enough to fit two people. The living room wasn’t as big but your bedroom was a decent size. You don’t regret picking this place out, it was like living in a cot where no one could bother you. “How could I when you're the life of the party” you laugh. Hoseok shakes his head as if you could see him. “Hey, I gotta go now. Be safe over there and if you need any help I’m one phone call away. I love you” 

“Love you too, Hobi” Pulling your phone away you hear three beeps indicating the ending call. Walking over to the little window sill in your living room you place the overgrown plant there, making sure it’s angled enough to get the sunlight that it needs. Slumping down on the couch you pick up the remote laid on the armrest and turn on the TV. Playing whatever’s on as background noise. Sitting there and relishing your day, there’s one specific highlight of today that catches your attention. That boy who came by the cafe today, Jungkook. 

His bright boba eyes and his dimpled features play back into your head. His face is stuck in the forefront of your mind for the rest of the night. You hope that one day you will see him again

“No, I swear she looked just like Jessica Rabbit,” Jimin continued about the girl he saw on campus a few days ago. Taehyung was immersed in his friend’s story. But however Jungkook can’t find himself to indulge in his friend’s new ‘eye candy’ as Jimin liked to say. He found himself staring into space, thinking about you the whole way home. Jungkook has never found enough time to fond over some random woman he’s spent his time with. 

But he can not find a way to get you away from his thoughts. Something about you keeps pulling him in and he can’t seem to escape it. “Hey, Jungkookie. You good?” Jimin shakes his arm a bit. He doesn’t even realize that they are at their apartment already. He hadn’t realized how long he spent thinking about you. “Yeah, yeah I’m good” he shakes his head and pulls his keys from his pocket. 

Flipping the light switch to brighten up the room, the beeping of the door closing surrounds the room. “I’m gonna go wash up” Jimin watches as his friend walks over to his room. Weird. He thinks. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Jungkook turns to look over to Jimin. “Yeah, I’m good, '' he says as if it weren't obvious. Jimin walks closer to him, examining his face. “I don’t know it just seems like something’s bothering you” The worried expression growing on his face convinces Jungkook to fess up. 

“That girl, at the cafe, I can’t get her off my mind. We hadn’t even exchanged that many words and I can’t stop thinking about her,” He walks over to his couch and slumps down in defeat. A grin grows on Jimin's plump lips, taking a seat next to his young friend. “I knew it,” a smug look on his face. “Bro, I told you to ask for her number. She seemed into you too” he says with a nudge to his shoulder, enthusiasm growing in his tone. Jungkook rubs a hand over his tired face and stands up again. 

“I don’t know if she makes me feel something. I don’t know what it is but I don’t like it” You make butterflies erupt in his tummy, his heart beats faster, and you turn his cheeks rosy. Just looking at you he feels like he’s known you for a long time. And he’s just met you today. “I should just sleep on it, I’ll see how I feel in the morning. Who knows? Maybe I’ll completely forget about her when I wake up tomorrow” 

That was in fact, a lie. You were the first thing that popped up in Jungkook’s mind. Today he had a full agenda, it was registration week for classes. He wanted so badly to get rid of this feeling in the pit of his stomach. Walking into the shared bathroom, Jungkook walks in to get ready for the day. Through the mirror he sees Jimin emerging from his room, barely getting up from his bed. His shoulders slouched, his hair messy from sleep, and his eyes closed to still being closed from his slumber. 

“We need to be there by eight o’clock,” Jungkook tells him, mouth full of toothpaste. He gets a low hum in response from the kitchen. After finishing up in the bathroom, Jungkook walks out to prepare everything he needs. This is their last year in college, they needed to make the most of it. The screen of his phone lights up as he taps it to read the time. They had less than an hour to get out the door. Jungkook is ready with his things sitting next to him on the couch, he only has to wait for Jimin to finish. Nothing better to do than scroll through Instagram like random girls’ posts and keep up with the media. 

He somehow finds himself in his search bar. Moving his fingers over the keyboard, your name is what pops up. After searching for what had to be about a minute, he finds a picture of you smiling. You are with a group of friends surrounded by a table and playing what seems like a board game. Jungkook doesn’t notice the smile growing on his face until he hears Jimin walk out to the living space. 

“What are you smiling at?” He immediately shuts his phone off and looks up at his friend. “Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Let’s go I don’t wanna be late” Shrugging his shoulders Jimin walks over to his bag, sits on the chair at the dining table and walks to the door.  

When they got to the campus, which was only a fifteen-minute walk from their apartment, it was filled with college students. Some ran over to their friends that hadn’t seen in a while and some hung around, to themselves. Jungkook had slight hopes of seeing you here, registering as everybody else. Roaming the area he watches as different clubs set up booths, some standing by trying to get the freshman to sign up for their club. 

Jungkook has lost sight of Jimin, finding himself with his other friends. Now he’s by himself watching other students in his class lurk around, making fun of the lower class for being lost. It’s not until he finds himself on his phone again, looking through your profile again. It seemed like you liked to travel, you’ve been to Japan, Italy, and many other foreign countries. 

You seemed like a bubbly person, based on how you present yourself on social media.

His eyes found the clock again, and he had to get ready for his class. 

“Mom, I’m alright. I’m finding my way around campus. It’s big but I’ll get the hang of it. Stop worrying so much” Your mom has been calling you almost every day to check in on how you are settling in your new home. Of course, she was supportive but she was going to miss you. You’ve never been this far from your mother let alone living without her. You had your own apartment but it was still close to her. The bond you had with your mother was special to you. 

“Okay, honey. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, I miss you”  It’s only a few minutes before your lecture starts and the class is almost filled with students. You hadn’t realized how many people majored in psychology “I gotta go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later,” placing your tote bag down next to you. You see the professor walk in with a book in his hand. “Alright, I love you and stay safe” 

“I will, I love you too” 

As you settle down in your seat you hear the door open again. This time, you see a familiar face. The boy you couldn’t stop thinking about walks down your row, sitting a few seats away from you. You don’t realize the butterflies flying in your tummy when you watch. “Okay, everyone” Your professor's voice booms through the room. “My name is Namseok but you can call me professor Choi” 

As the lesson is nearing its end you raise your hand to ask a question. “Yes, missis?” he pauses, waiting for your response

“___” Jungkook’s ears perk up at your voice. His head turned to the sound of your voice. “Yes, what are your questions?” Pulling your hand down to rest on your lap you speak up. “Are you available after class? I’d like to ask a few questions” Professor Choi shakes his head and walks back behind his desk. “Yes, please, come and see me after class and we will discuss whatever you need” Jungkook still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you spoke. Too immersed in how beautiful you looked today, out of your work uniform and in normal clothes. 

“Well it seems like class is over for today. Good job everyone and I will see you on Thursday” Everyone collectively stands up and makes their way to the exit door. You on the other hand stay behind to ask a few questions. Instead of taking the normal way out like the other students. Jungkook walks the opposite way, past you. Watching as a muscular figure walks past you, you look up to see his face. He’s already looking down to you and you can feel your warm cheeks express a slight red color. 

It’s until he turns back around to look at you that you fold. He was extremely handsome, how could you not?

Your shift at the cafe was about to begin. It’s the middle of lunch time and the cafe has become busy. Sometimes you regret not signing up for afternoon classes. Night shifts are the busiest with the many college students coming in to study. Once again the ringing bell flows through your ears as customers walk through the door. You have yet to make any true friends around here. The only ‘friend’ you have is your co-worker, Yejoon. She helped you out on your first day but she spends most of her time in the back making the food for hungry students. 

Too busy watching the TV placed in the corner of the room you don’t see the same muscle figure you saw in your lecture class. “Hey,” he says. Tattooed arm out on display, chains adorning his neck. His body doesn’t match his face at all, with cute boba eyes twinkling like there are stars in them, and a button nose with small moles placed haphazardly.

“You’re in my psych class right?” he says, holding his weight up with his hands on the counter. You look up at him with squinted eyes. “Yeah, I am. I saw you today at the end of class. Why didn’t you go out with the other students?” This question catches him off guard. He needed to come up with an excuse, quick. “Uh, there’s another door that leads to a different building, I have a class there” Smooth. Nodding your head, you look behind him and watch as the line begins to grow. “Jungkook? Was it?” he nods his head at you, ensuring you are right. 

“Well, Jungkook. If you don’t mind if you're gonna stay here and chit chat I suggest moving out of my line. I have a crowd of hungry college students and I don’t intend on putting up with their attitude” You say with a scrunch of your nose. Jungkook puts his hands up as if he’s surrendering and throws you a smile. “I didn’t mean to take long, I just came up here to ask you something” You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “And what is that?” 

“Can I have your number?” Bold. You think. “If you step out of my line maybe I’ll consider it” you tell him and he steps to the side so he’s not in the way of customers. “Hi, I’m sorry for holding up the line what I can get for you” You ask the middle aged man that was after Jungkook. “You wouldn’t have to be sorry if you just told your boyfriend to fuck off” Shock is read all over your face. You are not in the mood to handle rude customers today. “First of all, sir, he is not my boyfriend. Again I apologize for the wait. It’s on the house,” you tell the man. Jungkook stands there watching the interaction go down. 

For some reason this makes him even more eager to get your number. You look over to him as you wait for the next customer to tell you their order. “This might take a while, take a seat anywhere you’d like” you point with your head as you tell him to wait. It’s not until the very end of your shift that you realize that he’s still here, waiting for you. 

You step away from behind the counter and take your apron off. “I can’t believe you waited” you say under your breath walking closer to him. He looks up as he sees you from the corner of his eye. The chair scraping across the floor as he stands from his chair. “Of course I waited, I made it my mission to leave this place with some sort of way of communicating with you” This surprises you. You’ve never met this guy in your life and now after a small meet he’s determined to get to know you. 

“Well, I’ll give you my Instagram. Number is too personal” he scoffs at that. Thankfully, he deleted your user from his search beforehand. Handing you his phone you type in your user and follow your account. Your pocket buzzes with a notification from your phone. Pulling your phone out you read the notification.

ggukkie has followed you

You smile as you read his user. You click on the tab and follow him back. His phone vibrates with a new notification and he reads your username

yeojacoure has followed you

Smiling as he looks up from his phone he says “I’ll see you soon then?” You pull your hair from your hair tie and he watches as it flows down your shoulders. “I guess so, Jungkook” He begins to walk away and before he can walk out the door he calls out for you. “Goodnight” you reply with the same.

Feeling giddy inside Jungkook unlocks his phone and finds your account opening your message. 

ggukkie: So how can I get your number?  7:43 pm

You look down at your phone as you exit through the back entrance. You read the text Jungkook had sent you only a few minutes ago. Smiling like an idiot you reply back. 

yeojacoure: By earning it 😉 [7:49 pm]

ggukkie: And how do i do that? [7:49 pm]

yeojacoure: Figure it out 😊 [7:50 pm]

ggukkie: C’mon don’t tease now [7:52pm]

yeojacoure: Not teasing [7:52 pm]

yeojacoure: You’re a smart boy, you can do it! [7:53 pm]

He smile he cannot contain spreads on his lips 

ggukkie: Alright, if working for it is what it takes then i guess that’s what i’ll do smh [7:53 pm]

When you think he’s done another text comes in

ggukkie: Are you free Saturday?[ 7:59 pm]

Your heart picks up once again because of him. What could he possibly have in mind? 

yeojacoure: Yes… Why are you asking? [8:00 pm]

ggukkie: Let’s hang out [8:00 pm]

You think about it for a minute. You were just complaining about 

having no friends in town. Maybe it’s time you make some. 

yeojacoure: Okay sure, what do you have in mind? [8:03 pm]

ggukkie: It’s a surprise 😉 [8:03 pm]

ggukkie: If you get to be all secretive on me then I can be too [8:03 pm]

yeojacoure: okay fine, as long as you don’t plan to murder me then okay [8:04 pm]

ggukkie: Why would I want to kill someone as beautiful as you? [8:04 pm]

This gets you to blush, hard. You feel like kicking your feet up and swinging them like a dumb teenage girl. You take a minute to breathe before responding back to him. 

yeojacoure: shut up [8:06 pm]

yeojacoure: I’ll see you Saturday [8:06 pm]

Jungkook smiles at your final text and finally starts to make his way back to his apartment. He hasn’t felt like this since his junior year of high school and it scares him a bit.

Days have gone by since Jungkook practically begged for your number at the cafe. You’ve seen him around campus but never bothered to interact with him. Except for your psychology class, he made the empty space next to you his permanent seat. It’s now Saturday, he was supposed to take you out today but he never told you a time or a place. Now you’re sitting in your little apartment semi-dressed for an unknown plan. 

You had given him your address in class, which he got in trouble for talking to your professor. He says it’s not far from where he lived and you remember he gave you a disgusting little smile.

It is getting darker now, the sun beginning to set behind the city and the lights illuminating the lively city. Now you are having doubts that he will even show up. “I don’t know, Hobi. He told me he’d pick me up but he never gave me a time and he hasn’t texted me or called me at all” you talk to your best friend over the phone.

“Relax, I’m sure he will show eventually. If he doesn’t show then why was he so desperate to get your number?” you sigh. He does have a point. 

 Your doubts are crushed when you hear your doorbell ring in your ears. “Oh my God, okay, he’s here. I’ll call you when I get back” 

“Okay, be safe and if anything happens and I don’t hear back from you. I’m driving my ass down there and calling the police” you chuckle at your friend. “I will, I gotta go” you click the red button to end the call.

You walk over to the door to look through the tiny hole on the door. Making sure you aren’t opening the door to some stranger. 

“Told you I’d surprise you” He says when the door opens. His eyes follow you up and down. You weren’t wearing anything special. A short off the shoulder long sleeve with a bow tying around the back and jeans. “Yeah, I started to doubt you’d even show up. It’s practically night out already.” you roll your eyes at him as you walk out the door. Not before grabbing your purse off the dining table. 

“Awh were you waiting for me” he teases. You nudge him with an arm as you walk side by side down the hall to the elevator. When it does arrive a small family comes out before you enter. Pressing the bottom floor Jungkook makes small conversation. “You look pretty tonight” you reply back with a small “Thank you,”  a blush starting to rise to your cheeks once again. “Where are you even taking me?” 

“Well if I tell you it wouldn’t be a surprise, but since you’re so insistent then I’ll tell you,” the door to the elevator opens as it stops on your desired floor. “I’m taking you around the city, I remember you told me once after class that you’ve had any idea around so I’m showing you” your heart picks up once again at the thought of him remembering little things that you said. It seems to do that a lot when you’re around him. 

When you reach the parking garage you don’t see any car in sight. “Where’s your car?” He walks up to a motorcycle and taps the back of it. “Right here” your eyebrows raise in confusion. He hadn’t told you he was picking you up in this. “You’re kidding me, right? We’re driving this?” a bit of hesitation can be heard in your voice. A smirk appears on his face as he watches your face full of worries. How cute. He thinks. 

“Oh c’mon, I drive safe. You have nothing to be worried about” he places gentle hands on your arms. You lean a bit to the side to look back at the vehicle. Looking back up at him you let out a sigh and reluctantly agree. “Atta girl” he picks up the helmet that was set on top of the bike. He pushes it into your arms, confusion begins to settle on your face. “What about you? What if you get hurt?” 

Your brows furrow once again in worry. He has the urge to pinch your cheeks from how adorable you look but he refrains himself and nudges your chin with his finger. “Don’t worry about me, hmm? I’ve done this plenty of times,” he moves to stand in front of you and he looks down at your small frame.

“Can you trust me?” he says.

You give him a look that isn’t convincing but you nod anyway. “Good, now hop on.” He moves to throw his leg over the bike and he kicks the stand up. You place the helmet on and do the same as him. “Now, hold on tight. I’m responsible for you tonight. Can’t have you getting hurt” he says, patting the side of your thigh. The loud roaring of the engine resounds through the big garage, making you jump slightly. 

When you get to the highway he picks up the speed and you hold his waist just a bit tighter, praying you don’t crash with his slightly reckless driving. His hand lets go of one of the handles and you feel him place it over yours intertwining your fingers.

As you ride through the city the lights from buildings light up the dark streets. Slight suspicion grows in your mind when Jungkook turns into a small alleyway. Nothing but trash bins aligned on a wall and a door leading into the building next to you. “Jungkook, where are we?” he pulls his hand out in front of you to help you off his bike, taking it kindly. You pull off the helmet and place it on one of the handles. “One of the places I want to show you” 

“One of these places?” he turns his head to you and gives you a small smile. “Big city means lots of places to discover” He pulls the handle of the door and you’re hit with loud chatter and warm light. It’s a small bar filled with laughter and low lights. It’s not as packed as it is outside in the streets. “Ya! Jungkook-ah,” you hear a deep voice call for Jungkook from one of the tables. A man with round glasses and a pretty smile calls him over to his table. “I haven’t seen you in a while” he brings the younger one into a hug. “Yeah, well I’ve been caught up with school and whatnot” 

The taller man’s attention is drawn to you now. You feel small under his gaze. “And who is this? A girlfriend?” he teases him, pulling him into a headlock. Jungkooks face scrunches with a smile displaying his bunny-like teeth. He pushes the older man off of him and fixes his hair. “This is a friend,” he corrects him. Jungkook looks down to you and introduces you to his friend. “___ this is Namjoon, an old friend of mine” 

“Hey! I’m not that old,” he slaps the younger one on the back of his head, you let out a snicker. “It’s nice to meet you ___, I see that Jungkookie here has finally come out of his shell” you let out a giggle. “Hyung, stop embarrassing me, gosh” he hides his face behind his hand. “I’m just teasing you” his gaze falling back on you. “So what brings you to Incheon?” you look down to play with the bracelet on your wrist. “Well, I was originally going to school in Gwangju, but I found out that they had better plans here for me than they did back over there,” 

“Ahh I see, I hope you find comfort here. It is a big city but you’ll get around. If anything you have me and Jungkook here to help you if you need it,” conversation begins to flow smoothly between the two of you. Jungkook had taken a seat next to you, placing his arm on the back of your chair as he listened to you converse with his friend. He can’t help but admire the way you look right now. Your smile radiates warmth all around and the way your eyes shine in the light. He feels like he can look at you for hours on end. 

“It was nice meeting you, I hope to see you soon” Namjoon’s eyes gaze over to Jungkook, with a smug smirk on his lips. Rolling his eyes at him he turns his head to the side shying away to hide his rosy cheeks. “It was nice meeting you too, Namjoon. I had a great time,” with a wave he turns the corner of the building and disappears into the night. It’s silent between the two of you now, you look up at Jungkook standing next to you. He looks down at you and furrows his brows, “What?” 

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Are we gonna stand here all night or are we going to have fun? Hmm,” a grin displaying on your face as you walk past him and lift the helmet off the place you left it. Chuckling Jungkook straddles the bike and looks back.

“Hop on” The roaring of the engine rings through your ears once again and through the small alleyway. The city lights have become slightly dimmer now that it’s getting later into the night. Fewer people roam the streets but still many young souls live their young lives with their friends. 

The drive to your next destination takes a bit longer. It’s close to leaving the city. The sign you read as you enter the small area is ‘Songdo Central Park’. The small streets go on for miles as booths pile up down the line. Jungkook parks on one of the many sidewalks and helps you with your bike.

“What is this place?” you say. 

“Central Park, I come here sometimes to clear my mind,” he walks mindlessly with you trailing behind him.

The lights of the monument in the middle of the park are bright lighting up the path. Walking side by side now, you watch as Jungkook takes in the cool, summer air, hands swaying next to each other, and fingers brushing against each other. You point at a booth selling candied fruits and tug on his jacket. 

“Can we get some?” your big eyes looking at his. How could he resist you? Obliging, he gives you a small shake of his head and follows you to the booth.

“Hello! What can I get for you?” the nice old lady asks.

Fruits skewered on a stick in her hand as she dips it in a sugary coating. “Can, please get, uhmm” you place a hand on your chin looking through the small collection of fruit. “Which one should we get?” you turn to Jungkook, who has been staring at you the whole time, and he looks over the tray of sweet snacks. “Let’s get one strawberry and a mix of both with grapes,” he tells the lady with a sweet smile. 

She grabs the fruits and places it in small trays for the both of you. “That will be five dollars, please” Jungkook hands her cash he had stored in his pocket. “Thank you!” you say as you wave her goodbye. Walking in silence enjoying your snack Jungkook can’t help but feel nervous now that he’s next to you. You bring the fruits to his lips and you place your hand underneath to catch the falling crumbs. “You want some?” he looks at your adorable face as you wait for him to take a bite. 

Taking the sweet red fruit in his mouth a piece of sugar falls from it, landing in your hand. You bring it to your mouth and take the hard sweet. Jungkook’s heart pace speeds up for an unknown reason and you continue on as if nothing happened, finishing off what’s left of your treat. Clearing his throat he asks, “How do you like the city so far?” looking ahead of him. A couple playing with their little dog as it runs around in the grass. 

Your eyes follow his and you can feel a smile grow on your lips. “I like it, but I feel like there’s only so much that I can explore in one day”

You walk over to throw both of your trash away and you find a bench in front of the small lake in the middle of the park. Walking over to it and taking a seat Jungkook follows suit. “I can show you so many other places if you’d let me” a grin growing on his lips. 

You look to the side of you and give him a small smile “I don’t know, Jeon. I’d have to think about that one” you laugh. “Oh c’mon, I know my way around the city. I can show you so much more” the night continues on with laughter and playful banters. You don’t notice the time passing until your phone rings with a notification. “Oh, shit. It’s getting late we should get going” Jungkook stands from his seat and stretches his hand out for you to grab. Taking it, he pulls you from your seat and he doesn’t let go until you find yourselves back at his bike. 

About an hour later, your apartment building comes into sight as you turn the corner of your street. Jungkook comes to a slow stop near the entrance of your parking garage and parks his bike. Taking off the helmet for the last time tonight you run your fingers through your hair making sure your hair was kept well. Hopping off, Jungkook places the helmet down on the seat of the bike. “Can I walk you?” 

“Yes, you can '' the look in your eye is something he can’t quite make out but it makes his tummy do backflips. You walk in front of him to the lobby of your apartment and press on the button with the arrow pointing up to the upper floors.

It dings immediately given the late hour of the night, assuming everyone is fast asleep by now. The ride up to your apartment was silent. The only sound in the small elevator was going up the few floors you lived above.

The door rings and its doors open wide for you to exit. You walked down the short hall and stopped at your door, turning around to face Jungkook. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he looks at anything but you. Feeling the nervous crawling back into his chest. You are the first one to speak, “I had fun today, Jungkook '' your smile eases him a bit. “I’m glad you did, my offer still stands, you know” 

You think about the time you spent at the park, you are still taking it into deep consideration leaning towards saying yes to him again. You only respond back with, “I’ll think about it” he laughs, his head hanging low at your unclear answer. Sighing he looks past your head at the wall behind you. He builds up the courage to ask you again. “So, how about that number?” you burst out laughing. Covering your mouth trying to keep quiet in courtesy of your neighbors. “What makes you think, you’ve earned my number?” 

A hint of laughter still hidden your voice. “Well, I did take you out and gave you a good time. I think I deserve it” You think about it for a minute. “I’ve decided to make this easier for you, I’ll make it like an easter egg hunt” you jump up with enthusiasm. He looks at you with confusion, wrinkles forming between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” 

“I’ll give you clues! You can earn each digit one by one” you say proudly. He chuckles at your antics, accepting you challenge him and he nods his head. “Okay, when do I get my first clue?” you look around trying to think of something clever. “Ahh! It’s in my address,” he looks up to the numbers on your door deciphering which one of the four numbers could be in yours. “That’s your only hint” 

“You really are a tease, you know that” , shaking his head. You only smile up at him, nose scrunched. “You should get going, it’s late.” 

“Yeah,” it’s silent for a moment before Jungkook speaks up one last time tonight. “I liked tonight with you ___,” you look down, shy. “I did too, Jungkook. You aren’t as bad as I thought you would” you tease him. Rolling his eyes at your gesture, he nudges the bottom of your chin with his finger and lifts his head looking down at you “I thought you’d be a handful, but I guess you're tolerable” you slightly push on his shoulder. He grabs your wrist and you both stop for a moment. 

You don’t realize how close you have become. Faces close together. Slowly leaning in, Jungkook's eyes gravitate to your soft, pink lips. Before your lips could touch your head moved to the side, whispering in his ear, “Goodnight, Jungkook” your hand leaves the nape of his neck and you turn your door. Before it could close, you locked eyes with Jungkook, one last time. 

Once he can’t see you anymore, Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He turns to make his way back to his bike holding on to his chest where his heart lies. The feeling erupting in his chest feels foreign to him. Something he hasn’t felt in years. It scares him. It’s something he refuses to let himself feel. Maybe he just needs to sleep. Maybe he’s just tired from the long day he’s had. 

Hopping on his bike. He makes his way back home, thinking about the digits of your address, dissecting them. Determination stays on his mind for the rest of the night.

A small crowd of students file into the quiet library. Books surround you with knowledge of classes that you are taking. A pencil clad in your hand as you think of more notes to write down on your notebook in front of you. Jungkook has been texting you since the day he took you out. Asking you random questions throughout the day, but to your surprise he hasn’t said a single thing about your number. 

You jump a bit in your seat when the chair in front of you screeches against the floor. When you look up you see Jungkook’s handsome face, a chuckle coming from his lips at your reaction. “Hi” he says in a whisper. Shaking your head at him you go back to writing your notes. “How did you know I was here?” He watches as you write down words on your piece of paper. His tattooed hand reaches out and starts playing with the edge of the paper and you look up at him. “I was on my way to get some lunch and saw you through the window, you don’t work today?” his head tilts to the side like a puppy dog. You shake your head, “No, I have a day off today and I wanted to spend it studying. But I can’t do that with you bothering me” he rolls his eyes and lets go of the paper. 

It’s silent for only a minute before he starts speaking again. “When will you be done?” He's like a nagging child, always in need for attention. You let out a sigh of frustration and put your pencil down beside the notebook. “You don’t have any other friends you can annoy?” a small pout forms on his lips. Sulking, because of your attitude. 

“I wanna hang out with you” you try one more time to focus on studying. Opening one of the books lying beside you. A loud groan comes from the big baby in front of you and you quietly slam the book shut. “Fine! What do you want to do,” placing your remaining things into your bag and you stand from your chair to pull it over your shoulder. Jungkook beats you to it, though. Placing the white tote bag over his shoulder and carrying it out with him. Puffing a breath of air out you follow him to the door.

The weather is nice today, it wasn’t too hot like those other summer days. It seems to be cooling down. “Where are we eating?” you ask behind him. He turns his head to look back at you and slows his pace down to match yours. “This place that serves the most delicious pork belly,” his posture straight, determined to get to the restaurant as fast as possible. Before he came into the library he had already been planning to ask you out to lunch with him. 

He was originally planning on walking to the cafe, so he had been waiting a while. When you walk into the restaurant you are hit with the warm air with the scent of meat. To your surprise it wasn’t as busy as you’d expect it to be considering it being lunch hour. Jungkook picks out a table in the middle of the restaurant. Taking a seat in front of him, he grabs a menu that had already been placed there and picks out his favorite dishes. 

“Hello, what can I get started for you guys today?” The server walks up to the table with a notepad and pencil in his hand. His attention is drawn to you first. You look up at him and give him a sweet smile. His hair was wavy and dimples showed whenever he smiled. You look down to your hands resting on the table and you look at Jungkook. His stare already on you, clearing his throat he begins to order. 

Once it is written down on the notepad the waiter grabs the menus from the table. “I’ll be out shortly with your food” You nod your head politely and bring your attention back to the man in front of you. “You still haven’t given me another hint” He brings up again. Sighing with a smile on your lips you slightly shake your head at him. “You are never going to give up, are you?” 

“Nope, I’m determined” 

“Why? Is my Instagram not enough?” You say with a shake of your shoulder. 

“No, it’s not. Are you gonna give me another hint or what?" Sass can be heard in his tone. Instead of having the poor boy go on for ages figuring out your number you give him the first six digits. “Fine, I’m starting to feel bad for you now. I’ll give more than one number” At this his eyes light up like the galaxy. Excitement growing in his chest and a smile that brings out his dimples appear on his face. 

Laughing at his excitement you write down on a piece of napkin you pull from the box next to you. ‘823257’ written in bold ink. You fold it up and slide it over to Jungkook’s side of the table. “There now you need to find the last four” Now feeling a bit more relieved he stuffs the napkin deep into the pockets of his sweats. The food is brought out and the same waiter places it on the table in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you tell him with that same smile you gave him earlier. Blush begins to grow on his pale cheeks and he bows, walking away to serve other tables. Scoffing Jungkook looks away from the boy and takes the scissors from the tray, cutting up the meat. “What was that look for?” you say to him picking up a pair of utensils. “Nothing” you laugh lightly at his pouty lips. 

The sizzling of the meat on the grill resounds and smoke lifts into the air from the hot pan. “Do you think it���s cheating if another man helps separate your perilla leaf for you with chopsticks if you’re already with someone?” The ridiculous question gets you to chuckle. “I don’t think so, why does it matter if you're just going to end up eating it anyway?” you say, taking a piece of meat he grilled and placed on your plate for you into your mouth. 

His eyebrows furrowed as he chews on the pork belly and his legs jump a little under the table. “It does matter! I feel like it's cheating plain and simple. If I were dating someone it should only be me helping you. Not some other guy that you happen to be friends with” 

“Whatever you wanna believe, Jeon. But personally, I really don’t care. As long as I have food in my mouth then I’m happy” you say as you stuff your mouth with rice. 

The check comes around when you finish eating. You go to grab the piece of paper but, once again, Jungkook beats you to it. “Yah, I’m the one who brought you out to eat. I should be the one paying for it” he held the paper away from you. Slumping in your seat you cross your arms across your chest. “But it’s expensive, let me help pay half” With a proud smile Jungkook signs off on it and gives it to your waiter. “Too late, already paid for” he sends you a sly grin and you let out a puff of air.

The beeping sound of the door resounds in the quiet apartment. Jungkook walks to his shoe rack next to the front door and pulls off his big black shoes. Walking over to the couch he settles down on the couch and turns on the TV. Before he could pull his jacket off he remembers the small napkin you gave to him at the restaurant. Digging through his pocket he feels the soft paper and unravels it, revealing the numbers you had written down. 

The front door beeps once again, the slightly shorter man walks through the door and places his bag on the dining table. “Hey,” Jimin says. “What do you wanna do tonight? We don’t have a schedule for tomorrow and we don’t need to be up early” he says, digging through the fridge for something to eat. Jungook’s focus is still analyzing the piece of paper. “Uh, do you think you could help me with something?” he turned his attention to the blonde standing behind the counter, a drink propped in his hand. 

“Yeah, what is it?” taking a sip from his bottle. Jungkook stands to walk over to Jimin and places the napkin in front of him. He looks down at it and lifts his head back up to look at his friend. “A napkin with a bunch of numbers on it? Is it like a code or something?” he says with confusion laced in his voice. Jungkook shakes his head and he pulls up your Instagram account. “Do you remember her?” Jimin brings the phone closer to his face to properly see what he has displayed on his phone. It takes him a little while to remember your face. Then his face brows straighten out as he recalls that day he saw you. “Ah, the cafe worker” Jungkook shakes his head, “Yes, her” 

“What about her?” Confusion written on his face again. “Well, I’ve been hanging out with her for a while now-” before he can continue his sentence Jimin cuts him off, “And you didn’t mind telling me this until now because?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve just been so caught up with her and I didn’t even think about mentioning her. But now I’m in a situation” he starts off by telling him the day he walked into the cafe and waited for you to finish up so he could talk to you. And the rest of the story after that. “Why is she playing hard to get? It’s just a couple of numbers” Jimin says. Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, turning around back to the couch. 

“She said it’s a personal thing, which is so stupid. We’ve been texting back n’ forth on Instagram. I was out with her today and she gave me those numbers” he sighs out of frustration. Jimin flows behind him and sits on the sofa next to him. He places the drink down and pats Jungkook on the shoulder. “You’re in luck, I have my mom to thank for this.” he pulls out a thick book filled with thousands of phone numbers from under the coffee table. Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock as the book slams on the table in front of them. 

“When did she give this to you?” he asks in shock. “She gave it to me before I left Busan, I forgot I had it with me. I never had a use for it so it was stored away in the closet at our old dorm” He opens the book and flips through the thin pages. He stops on a page and glides his finger down looking for those six numbers. “Here!” He looks back to the napkin next to the book and reads off the numbers. Jungkook watches in awe as he watches his friend work his ‘magic’. “Now all we need to do is look through,” he pauses for a second “one hundred seventeen phone numbers” A loud “What!” comes from the man beside him. “Looks like we have a long night ahead of us Jungkookie” 

The first number they dialed was an old lady. She was sweet about them calling the wrong number and they moved on to the next. The fifth number they dial was a fried chicken place, not being able to contain themselves they placed an order for delivery. The two of them spend the next hour and a half trying to search for your number. Jungkook is close to losing hope. He ended up stepping out to their balcony and took a cigar out from the box laying on top of the table next to the couch. 

Inhaling a puff into the night’s air, he begins to feel a bit more relaxed. Jimin walks in behind him, standing next to him as they look out into the city. Lights, once again brightening up the city. The sounds of cars driving by and flocks of birds flying in the sky. Jimin takes in the fresh air, his arms leaning against the railing. “What if she gave you a fake number?” he says. Jungkook only sighs and takes another drag from his cigarette. 

“I mean we’ve been at this for hours and all we’ve found is nothing” But Jungkook being the stubborn man he is he says “We have twenty more numbers to call. And if none of them is hers, then” he pauses. He looks up at the stars twinkling in the black sky. He closes his eyes and thinks. “Then I’ll just give up,” Jimin nods his head at his friend's decision, his head hanging low as he pats the taller one’s shoulder walking back into the room. 

Jungkook places the end of the stick in a bowl lying on the edge of the thick railing and trails behind the elder. Plopping himself back down on the couch, he begins to prepare himself for maybe one of the longest hours of his life. He picks his phone up again and dials one of the remaining numbers. But to no avail, it’s not your voice he hears on the other end of the phone. Crossing it off in the book he dials the next one, and then the next, and then he’s on the sixth number.

The phone rings for a while, but on the fourth ring, someone picks up. “Hello?” you say. Jungkook is silent. Shocked that it’s actually you, he’s finally talking to. “Hello,” he says back. You bring your phone away from your ear and look at the number. “Jungkook? How did you manage to find the rest of my number so quickly?” He laughs at that. ‘Quickly’ is quite the opposite of tonight.

“Thank fucking God it’s you,” he says. Jimin perks up, turning around to face Jungkook.

Autumn

The sun rose over the horizon and spilt into the room, the blinds kept slightly ajar covering bits of the messy room, the light laying over his sleeping body. His eyes slow open as the sun peeks through them. He twists and turns in the comfort of his bed until he becomes restless, pulling the comforter away from his body. “Jungkook” a girl hovering over his tired body. She lays her own over his, cuddling into his neck as she wraps her arms around his neck, he buries himself in her scent dragging his hands to wrap around her waist. 

The girl plants soft kisses along his soft skin whispering little nothings into his ear. Before he could pull away to find her beautiful face, his eyes opened.

“Get up!” Jimin tugs on his arm harder. Jungkook jerks up from his bed, wiping his eyes from sleep. “What time is it?” his deep voice still laced with his deep slumber, Jimin looks at the clock on the wall by his mirror and back at the sleepy boy.

"It’s ten thirty, we were supposed to meet Namjoon ten minutes ago” he yells. Jungkook groans standing up from the bed, without watching out for where he was going he stubs his toe on the corner of the bed, “Shit” he falls onto his bed again holding his foot. His phone buzzes with a notification. The name read ‘___ 🌺’, and a smile formed on his face as he read your name. 

y/n🌺: Hey sleepy. I’ve been trying to reach you for like an hour but it seems like you’re too busy for me now 😞. I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out today? [10:35 am] 

His smile grows even wider. He thought he’d never see the day that you would reach out and ask if he wanted to hang out. Unfortunately, he has plans out today. It’s been a long while since he and all of his friends planned to hang out together. With everyone being busy with school and work, they never found the time to plan a get together. 

Me: Hey, sorry I didn’t get back. I woke up late. [10:37 am]

Me: Someone missing me already? 🫤 [10:37 am] 

He stands up from his bed and walks through the bedroom door. Jimin walks past him, already dressed and ready for the day, “You’re not ready yet, we’re going to leave in like five minutes” he says. “Alright! I won’t take that long, relax” He walks into the bathroom and prepares himself for the day ahead of him. The sink buzzes from his phone. The screen lights up with another notification. 

y/n 🌺: Calm down pretty boy, I was just asking because I’m off today and I don’t have any plans [10:45 am]

Me: So you think I’m pretty? lol, sorry angel i can’t today, what about tomorrow? [10:47 am]

While he waits for a response he walks out of the bathroom and walks over to his closet, looking through the many clothes he has. Finally, picking out something to wear he walks out to the living space where Jimin is sitting on the couch, looking at his phone waiting for him to finish. “Finally,” he breathes out in relief. “If only you set a damn alarm we wouldn’t be so late, Tae keeps texting me if we were there yet and yet we’re still standing here” he shakes his head. 

“Can you calm down, I’m ready. Let’s go” Jungkook walks forward to the front door and his keys in his hand. He waits for Jimin to walk out before he locks the door. As they are walking down the hall to the parking garage, Jungkook checks his phone again to find your message. 

y/n 🌺: Don’t get so cocky now Jeon. Yeah, that’s fine. I guess I’ll just spend my time alone today 😞 [10:48 am] 

Me: Cheer up at least you get to spend the whole day with me tomorrow! 😊 [10:59 am]

y/n 🌺: Yeah yeah. Have fun with your boyfriends [11:00 am] 

Cheesing at his phone he sends you a thumbs up and puts his phone away and takes his car keys out. “What are you smiling about?” Jimin looks over to his friend in the driver's seat. “Is it ___?” he guesses. Jungkook shrugs his shoulders as he places the key into the ignition.

As Jungkook pulls out of the parking garage, Jimin takes the aux cord and plugs it into his phone, ‘3:00 AM’ by Finding Hope plays softly in the background of the car. “So, what’s the deal with you and her?” He starts the conversation first. “What do you mean? We’re just friends,” Jimin looks at him with a look of suspicion written on his face. “Hmm, you’ve been spending almost all of your time with her, and I always catch you geeking whenever you’re texting her, doesn’t seem like ‘just friends’ to me” he lifts two fingers up in the air as quotations. 

“You are so deluded. I can’t have girls that are friends anymore?” 

“You’ve never had a girl-friend before. It’s either you sleep with them or you sleep with them. I have never seen you spend this much time with someone let alone a girl. Let’s be real now,” This leaves Jungkook silent. He is right, though. He just won’t admit that he is. “Whatever, man” The car ride is spent in silence for the rest of the time being. 

It’s not until Jimin gets an incoming call from Taehyung. The phone is still connected to the car, his deep voice is loud throughout the vehicle. “Hello?” Jimin says, “Where are you guys?” 

“We’re almost there, why?” Jungkook says. “Just asking, cus Namjoon-hyung is getting antsy, he just wants to make sure you guys are coming, it has been a while since we’ve all been together” 

“Okay were pulling up in the parking lot now, see you soon” 

“See you in a bit” the calls end and the music starts to play again. The car comes to a stop, and the two close the door shut. This place is different to the one he took you out to that night all those days ago. This one is more secluded, not many people know about, considering it’s Namjoon’s father’s place. The small building is next to a lake, only a few others in sight down the road. the quiet sounds of the water rippling in the air, and the leaves turning into red, orange, and brown colors with the changing season. 

Leaves crunch under their feet as they walk up to the door, knocking to be let in. The eldest one in the group answers the door. “Yah, what took you guys so long.” Jin says, pushing their hands slightly in a playful manner. “This one woke up late” he points to Jungkook. He raises his hands up and apologizes, “Sorry, I forgot to set an alarm, but to be fair I went to sleep late last night working on a project” 

“At least you're here” Jin throws his arm over his youngest’s shoulder. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages,” 

“Yeah, me too” Yoongi, another one of their friends, comes from the bathroom. Jungkook throws him a smile and pulls him into a hug. “It’s nice to see you guys again” Namjoon comes from what seemed like a gaming room “Look at us, one whole again” he opens his arms and brings Jungkook into a hug as well. Jimin and Taehyung are sitting at one of the couches catching up on what they’ve been doing since they last saw each other. 

They all gather around and begin chit chatting. “So, Jungkookie, Jimin here tells us you’re seeing someone” Jin raises his eyebrows, curious about his friend's love life. Jungkook shakes his head as he takes a sip of whiskey. “I’m not seeing anyone, she’s just a friend” at this Namjoon perks up and joins in on the conversation. “Oh is it __? I thought you guys were together, I mean you guys should’ve been there. They he looked at her was so sweet” 

“I did not look at her in any way” he objects. 

“Wait, you've met her already?!” Jin says with a look of hurt on his face. “That’s not fair! I basically raised you and this is how you repay me!” he yells.

“Can we please calm down, she’s nothing but a friend to me, why is that so hard to believe” They all become silent now. Giving each other knowing looks, he lets out a sigh and pulls a cigar out from his pocket. Taking a lighter that was lying on the table in front of him he lights it up, taking a drag.

“Oh c’mon, when will you introduce us? It’d be good to see a new face around here” Jungkook looks up at Yoongi and back down to his cigar. “I don’t know, it’ll happen when it happens” It is silent for a minute before Jungkook changes the subject. “How’s Aria and the baby? I miss that little dumpling” Jin’s baby, Minchae, is 

Jungkook's goddaughter, it’s been a long time since he’s seen her. Jin and his wife, Aria, are high school sweethearts, she’s seen him through his growth spurt, he hasn’t spent a day looking bad. He doesn’t blame her for staying with him for all these years. 

“They’re doing good, we wanted to host a barbeque sometime in two weeks, I forgot to bring this up the last time we were together” 

Everyone perks up at the mention of food, all agreeing, they begin to talk about life, what they’ve all been caught up doing since their last get together.

“Are you guys dating?” Your best friend asks over the phone. After Jungkook told you he was busy, you brought yourself out of your tiny apartment and did a little bit of exploring yourself.

“No, we’re not. We are just friends” you deny your relationship with Jungkook. He is one of the first friends (?) that you have made so far since you moved here. Yes, his personality is a bit condescending but you still manage to find a way to tolerate it. 

“Well, from the way you described him, it sounds like more than friends to me” You shake your head as if he could see you. “Fine believe what you wanna believe, but I assure you we are just friends-” Mid sentence you don’t pay attention to where your feet are leading you. You bump into a tall figure, when you turn around to apologize, you get a closer glimpse of the man. “Hey, you were our waiter the other day at that restaurant near the campus” you say pointing at him. He smiles and gives you a nod of his head. 

“Yeah, that was me” An awkward silence fills between you two until you speak again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he lifts his hands in the air in a forgiving manner.

“No, no it’s okay” smiling again at him you slowly begin to turn around to go on your way. Not until he stops you in your tracks, “Wait! Uhm” You turn your head back around to face him and raise your eyebrows. “Yes?” 

“I was too scared to ask you this back at the restaurant, but can I have your number?” How cute, you think. A smile breaks out on your lips and you walk closer to him. “I don’t even know your name,” you say to him. Immediately he says “It’s Jiung”. You pause for a minute looking up at the sky as if you were thinking. “Okay, Jiung. Give me your phone” That same sweet smile you gave to him gets him to blush. He pulls his phone out from his jacket pocket and places it in my hand. 

You put in your number and hand it back to him, you turn away but not before you say “Have a good day” in a sweet voice. His heart starts to race as you turn your back to him and continue your adventure. “What was that?” Hoseok says through the phone. “This guy that I saw at this restaurant Jungkook took me to. He asked for my number. 

“Wow, you are a guy magnet over there, what happened here?” he says teasingly 

“Shut up” 

Loud knocks are heard from your front door as you get ready in your room. Your hair is still up in curlers, your baggy t-shirt is on, and your biker shorts are still on, you walk over to the door and look through the peephole. The beeping of the door is heard next to you and Jungkook steps into the room. “Look at you in your pajamas. Didn’t I say I was gonna be here at one?”

he says in a teasing manner behind you. Walking back to your room you hear his heavy steps follow behind you. “Uh, I don’t remember letting you into my room” You turn to face him. “And I don’t remember caring enough to ask,” The beefy man says plopping down on your bed. Rolling your eyes you walk back to your bathroom, his hands lay behind his head as he relaxes into your bed. You walk out with a robe on now, and Jungkook eyes you up and down. 

“Do you mind?” you say looking back at him. 

“I won’t look I swear” You give him a look that says ‘I don’t trust you’. Turning around you go through your closet, pick a casual outfit, and bring it back to the bathroom.

Jungkook rolls his eyes as you walk away. Your bathroom and bedroom connect, and the big mirror above your sink shows almost everything in it. His eyes wander around your room, thinking about it now he’s never stepped foot in your apartment before, and his gaze stops at the mirror in the bathroom. You have taken your robe off and your bare back is on display. 

He holds his breath as he takes in your figure, You grab the clip that was holding your hair and he watches as your hair cascades down your shoulder. Your head turns to look at how your hair had turned out from the rollers, but instead, you're met with Jungkook’s gaze. He’s sat up in your bed now, lips parted slightly. You hold his stare before looking away and bending down to grab your clothes. 

Snapping out of his trance, you can hear shuffling coming from your room. You look back to your bed and find it empty, Jungkook is in the other room, trying to steady his breath. A few minutes later you walk out of your room, a big sweater covering your body and a small skirt adoring part of your legs.

“Are you ready?” You say tilting your head up to look at him.

He only nods his head in response and waits for you to collect your things. He stands by the door, watching you put your sneakers on. A small white bag is thrown over your shoulder.

When you are finally done you walk out the door and he closes it behind you. The walk to the parking garage was quiet for some odd reason. When you both get into his car you destroy the silence between you two. “How come you aren’t being annoying today? Usually, you’re talking my head off or asking me dumb questions” His mind is still stuck on what he saw back at your apartment. 

Low music plays softly in his car as he responds, “It’s nothing, I’m just tired from yesterday.” Softly nodding your head away from him you look out the window and wait until you arrive at his place. It’s silent again for only a few minutes when you decide to speak up again, “You’re such a liar” he turns his gaze away from the road for a second to look at you. “What did I lie about?” 

“You said that your place is just a walk away from mine” he chuckles at your complaining. Secretly you had hoped that you would walk with him to his complex, your neighbors usually take their dog out for a walk at this time and you’d always play with her. “Sorry you should’ve moved closer to me then” he says it as if you had any control over it. You roll your eyes and begin to sink into the comfortable silence. 

He parks the car on the side of the road near his apartment and you both step out of the car. It’s slightly bigger than where you're living and it’s much louder in this part of town.

He takes the lead and walks in front of you to the front of the building. The layout is much different than what you’re used to. Instead of an elevator, everyone has to climb up a set of stairs, thankfully for you, he lives on one of the lower levels. When you reach his home he punches in the numbers into the pad of his door lock. 

Just like yours, beeping comes from inside of his house. To your surprise the place is neat and clean, a few pieces of trash here and there but surprisingly tidy for an apartment with two grown men living in it. “How do you like it?” He asks, throwing his keys into the bowl on the table next to the door. “It’s nice, it’s cleaner than I thought it would be” your eyes glide around the room. He scoffs and says “What? Just because we’re a couple of guys means we can’t be clean?” 

“Uhm yes, actually I do think that” 

“Well, then change your mindset” he says walking over to his sofa. “What do you wanna do? I don’t have much here but you decided you wanted to hangout here so…” you walk over to his kitchen and look through his fridge. “Let’s cook something,” Digging through the drawers, you try to find something you think you’d both like to eat. 

After searching for a few minutes you end up with pork belly, kimchi, and instant noodles you found in the cabinet. You call him over and he groans as he stands from the comfort of his sofa. He finds a spot next to you and looks at the items you have displayed on the counter. “We’re cooking tonight?” You look up at him with a bright smile “Mmmhm!” He laughs at your response. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, tattoos out on display and rubs his hands together. 

“Let’s get started, then shall we?” Of course, he grabs the package of pork and cuts the plastic open with a knife while you look for a pot to cook the ramen in. You bring it to the sink and fill it half way to boil the noodles. It makes a small ‘clink’ sound when it hits the metal of the stove. Jungkook walks over next to you while you sit watching at the pot, waiting for the water to boil. He pulls a pan out from the same cabinet you got the pot from and places it next to you on the stove. 

Once the pan is hot enough he scrapes the cut-up meat into the pan, sizzling as it touches the heat. Smoke fills the air and the apartment starts to smell like pork.

The water starts to boil and you open the package and dump what’s in it into the water. Jungkok grabs a pair of chopsticks from a drawer and picks a piece of cooked meat from the pan. He blows on it and touches it to his lips making sure it’s not too hot to eat. “Here, try it” You open your mouth and taste the flavorful meat. Your eyes close as you satisfy your tastebuds with the cooking.

“Is it good?” Telling by your expression he doesn’t need a verbal answer from you. 

Once everything is cooked you plate it and serve it on the island in the kitchen. You sit on one of the stools and Jungkook stands on the other side of you. “I didn’t know you could cook like this, it’s so good” Slurping sounds reverberate from his bowl as he brings it closer to his mouth. “Who’s feeding my ego now?” he says with a cocky tone. 

“Can you ever go a day without being annoying” 

“Not when it comes to you” 

After you both finish up eating you make your way over to the living room and make yourselves comfortable on the sofa. The TV played whatever they showed during this hour.

Suddenly you start to speak. “You know what happened yesterday?” he hums in response, too immersed in what was playing on the big screen. “Do you remember our waiter from a few days ago?” At the mention of him, he sits up and looks at you. “Yeah, what about him” 

“After you blew me off-” 

“I did not blow you off, I was just busy with my friends” 

“Anyways,” you roll your eyes at his interruption

“I went into the city and ran some errands. But when I was on the phone with my friend I happened to bump into him” he listens to your story intently, not wanting to miss a detail. “I apologized but before I could leave he asked me for my number” 

“And did you give it to him?” he asks curiously. 

“Yeah, I did” he scoffs at your response, a little bit of anger beginning to build up. “Are you serious? Why did he get your number so easily but I had to work my ass off to get it” You can read the anger on his face. You begin to laugh, you laugh so hard that you're clutching your stomach. “Yah! What’s so funny! I didn’t even say anything for you to laugh” This only gets you to laugh even more. 

Not taking any more of this his fingers find your waist, and he tickles you. “Jungkook!” you yell at him. He pushes you onto your back and attacks you. Your legs between his and your arms trying to shove his shoulders away. The biggest smile forms on his lips as he watches your face turn red from how hard you're laughing. “Jungkook, stop!” you say in between laughs. 

He takes hold of your wrist and pins it above your head. Your laughter dies down, and the room becomes silent. His face hovering over yours, your faces inches apart. He doesn’t realize he’s leaning down, lips close to touching. The beeping of the door is heard near the door and Jimin walks through. You both quickly pull away from each other and straighten out your clothes. 

“Jimin!” Jungkook says standing to greet his friend. “This is ___” Jimin walks over to you and stretches his hand out for you to shake. “Ah, the one and only. It’s nice to finally meet you” he says slightly bowing out of courtesy. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jimin” you give one of your sweet smiles. Jungkook looks down at his watch and walks up between you two.

“It’s getting late, I’ll take you home __” you nod your head and give Jimin one last smile. “But we just met, let me get to know her,” Jimin complains. “You’ll get to know her another time, we have classes tomorrow and she has work” 

“It was nice to meet you, Jimin. I hope we get to talk to each other properly in the future” you tell him. He smiles at you and lets you go. 

~ The car ride to your home was filled with comfortable silence and the radio playing lowly. You are stopped at a red light and you look out the window. A dog sticking its head out the window gets a small smile to grow on your lips. “I had a great time tonight” you turn your attention back to Jungkook. His face was illuminated with red from the traffic light. You take in his strong features. His sharp jawline and round nose, a faint scar is indented on his cheek, and his lip piercing shining in the light. 

“I had a great time too” He looks over at you and sees you already looking at him. “Sucks I didn’t get to talk to your friend though. He seems like a nice person.” 

“Yeah he is, I’ve known him since I was in middle school. We went to highschool together and now we're sharing rent with each other. Sometimes it amazes me how fast times fly” he says. 

Small talk is exchanged until you reach your apartment. This time you and Jungkook stay in the car for a bit longer. “Thank you, for today. I had a lot of fun” 

“So did I,” he says. It’s not long before he says something else. “My friends are holding a barbeque at their place in a few days. Do you want to come with me?” This was out of nowhere. You debate whether you should go, you don’t even know them besides Jungkook and Jimin, now. 

“C’mon, you always talk about how you don’t have any friends here. I’m giving you the opportunity to make some.” After this you finally oblige. 

“Okay, okay I’ll go. But only if you make me some more pork belly” he smiles and shakes your head. 

“Deal” he pulls his hand out to seal the deal. You give it a small squeeze and shake your hands. As you look at him you hold onto your hand for more than he should be. Shying away, you let go of his hand and begin to pick up your stuff. “Goodnight, Jungkook,” you say leaning in to plant a small kiss on his cheek. You pull away but your faces stay close together. He looks down at your lips, and he slowly brings his hand to your cheek. 

He’s having an internal battle, thinking if kissing you is a good idea. Fuck it, he pulls you in and your lips mold with his. The cold of his piercing against your lips makes a shiver go up your spine. A small smack of your lips resounds as you pull away slowly, “Goodnight, angel”

The crisp air of the late afternoon hits you, you are standing outside waiting for Jungkook to come pick you up for today’s events. The thoughts of meeting his friends made you nervous for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Maybe you are just scared of what they might think, you need to show off a good impression. His black Mercedes rolls in around the corner and stops in front of you. 

Pulling the handle to the passenger’s side you reveal Jungkook, leaning against the armrest waiting for you to hop in. “Don’t you look cute today,” he says, watching you buckle your seat belt. “Thank you,” you say in a small voice. “You’re so nervous around me all of a sudden,” he says leaning in to look at your face. You look at his eyes, then down to his lips. “I’m not nervous,” you say with confidence in your voice.

“Mmm, then why are you so quiet? I’m used to hearing your loud and obnoxious voice” he teases. A smile creeps onto your lips and you turn away from to face forward. “Just drive, Jeon.” Chuckling, you step on the gas pedal and start to drive away from your complex. “What are your friends like?” you ask. You watch as Jungkook leans his elbow against the door and places his hand under his chin. “Hmm, they are very loud” a small laugh comes from your mouth. “They’re also very warm, I’ve known most of them for a big majority of my life now” 

You admire the way he talks about them as if they were family to him. The bond he describes he has with them seems unbreakable and full of love, you feel warmth spread across your chest at the thought of his friendship with all of them. You begin to realize that you don’t live far from them, only about a thirty-minute drive from yours. Suddenly, those nerves you were feeling before begin to creep up on you again. He notices how silent you’ve become as you get closer to the house. 

“What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” he says, looking at you. You return his gaze and shake off your nervous feeling. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just feel a bit nervous about meeting them,” you look for the right word to say. You shouldn’t be feeling this nervous, Jungkook described them as great people. “Angel, you don’t need to be nervous. They will welcome you with open arms, trust me” The nickname always brings small butterflies soaring in your stomach, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. 

The car pulls into the driveway you look up and gape at the size of the house. It’s not too big, but big enough to hold at least seven people. You and Jungkook both walk up to the front door, once again you feel anxious, “Relax, it’s gonna be okay” his fingers brush softly against yours, his pinky wrapping around yours. He rings the doorbell, and everyone on the other side of the door goes quiet. 

Low chattering is heard and the handle to the door twists and swings open. “JayKayy” Jin says in a brotherly tone. But Jungkook’s attention focuses on his baby niece. “Awhh Minchae, Uncle missed you '' he takes the little girl from her father's arms, squeezing her against him. Her little giggles escape as he places little kisses against her tiny puffy cheek. You watch with a fond smile on your face, how adorable. You’ve never seen this side of Jungkook before, it feels refreshing. 

You follow behind him as he enters the house. The loud chattering comes back to life when they see their youngest out of the bunch. “Hey, guys” Minchae’s arms wrapped around his neck. Standing quietly behind Jungkook’s tall frame you gently tug on his jacket and he turns around to you.

“Oh uh, guys” he places a hand on the small of your back, gesturing for you to walk forward. “This is ___” You bow your head and greet them. “Hello” comes from your mouth softly. Jin’s wife Aria stands up and places a hand over her heart. “You are so cute! It’s nice to finally meet you! Jungkook has not stopped talking about you since-” 

“Aria” Jungkook deadpans. She places a hand over her mouth to contain her laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” 

Jungkook holds a hand out gesturing to the woman next to you. “This is Aria, Jin’s wife” you smile at her and nod your head, a fond smile growing on her face. “This is Taehyung, and you know Namjoon and Jimin” You walk over to where they were sitting and hold your hand out for them to shake. “Oh yeah, we met that one time we went into the city, I remember,” you say to Namjoon. “Yes, it’s nice to see you again ___” He gives you that boyish smile you saw all those nights ago. 

“And this is Yoongi” the quiet man waves his hand in the air and a little smile forms on his lips. Jin comes out from the backyard, clad in an apron and tongs in his hands.

“Food’s ready” Everyone stands up from their seats. A table is set up outside and the big backyard is lit up with fairy lights, setting the mood for everyone. When everyone is content with their plates they all sit around the table and converse with one another. Minchae sat on Jungkook’s lap, slapping her tiny hands against the table. She hasn’t left Jungkook since you both arrived, you find it endearing, the relationship between the two. 

He has a separate plate for her feeding her small spoons at a time when she asks for it. “So, ___. When did you move to the city, is there any reason why you chose Incheon?” Jin asks. 

“Well, I moved here this past summer from Gwangjang. I was offered better things here at the college than what they had back there. It sucks though because I had to leave all my friends. But it doesn’t hurt getting a clean slate” you say. 

“That is right, but I bet you miss your friends too” You nod your head as you think about your life back in your hometown. “Yes, I do miss it over there. But I’ve been enjoying my time over here as well” you say with joy. Everyone begins to talk with you as if they’ve known you for years. It is not as bad as you thought it’d be, and you're grateful for that. 

Everyone decided to head back inside and it grew colder, everyone spread out in different places. Minchae sat on Jungkook’s lap again, playing with his big hands. Her attention falls on you though, you look down to meet her gaze and you give her a small smile. She crawls from Junkook onto your lap and she stares at you looking at your features. He watches his niece make herself comfortable on your lap and looks at her antics. Her tiny hands come up to your cheek. A bright smile forms on your lips as you watch her. 

“Hi, Minchae” softly comes from your lips. 

“Pwetty, Auntie” your heart melts at her small voice, and so does Jungkook's. He watches the interaction with a smile on his face, warmth igniting within his chest. “You’re so pretty,” you say, giving a gentle poke to her round tummy. She lets out a laugh as he wraps her hands around your finger pushing it away. Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s going to explode, watching with fond eyes as you play with his niece. You look over at him and catch him staring, his hand coming up to nudge your chin playfully. 

~

The night is coming to the end and Minchae has peacefully fallen asleep on your shoulder as you hold her back in support. Everyone has settled down, quiet music playing in the room as they all focus on their own thing. Jungkook looks down at his watch and notices how late it has gotten. “I think we should start heading out,” he whispers into your ear. You nod your head and begin to slowly get up, careful not to wake the little one in your arms. 

“Here I’ll take her” Jungkook brings his hand under her arms to pick her up. She moves a bit but falls back to sleep in the man’s arms. “Are you guys heading out already?” Jin says from the couch. 

“Yeah, is it alright if I put her to bed?” Jin nods his head and Jungkook separates from you for the first time tonight and walks up the stairs. 

“Where have you been all his life?” Jin says out of the blue. You turn around to face him and give him a look of confusion. “What?” a small chuckle escapes your mouth. “I have not seen him act the way he does since you’ve met him” A smile appears on your lips and before you can respond Jungkook comes back into the room. “You ready?” he says quietly from behind you, a hand resting on your waist. You look up at him and nod your head, you bend to grab your purse from the couch. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” he says with a wave of his hand. They all say their goodbyes and then, you are both heading back to the car.

You walk up to your door and unlock it, Jungkook stands behind you and waits for you to get in. He expected you to wave him goodnight and disappear behind your door, leaving him to walk into the night. But instead, you turn around and say “You wanna come in?” Shocked, Jungkook freezes in his spot, caught by surprise. He nods his head and walks in behind you. You place your bag down on the small table and plop down on your sofa, Jungkook following, he sits down next to you. 

“Tonight was fun, I didn’t expect us to get along so well. It felt like I’ve known them for years,” you say facing him. Your arms are in your lap, your fingers playing with your ring. “Yeah, that’s what they do to you” he chuckles. “They are all too kind for their own good, that’s what I love about them” 

“I can see why you talked so fondly about them, thinking about the bond you share with them makes me miss my friends back home. We’d hang out almost every night and stay out late going to parties” You reminisce on the old times you and your friends’ wild nights. 

“You have me now, and everyone else,” he says in a low tone. You look up from your lap and smile at him. It is silent between you now, Jungkook can’t help but stare at you in the low light, how beautiful you look. Slowly his hand comes up to the side of your neck, just below your ear. You lean into his touch and your lips part slightly, your gaze falling to his lips and so does his. Lips colliding, your hands find his wrist holding on tightly. 

Your body moves forward, straddling his lap, and his tongue glides over your pillowy lips, seeking entrance. Your lips part allows him access and his hands find your waist, squeezing gently. A small whimper escapes your mouth at the touch; the room filled with the sound of lips smacking. His hands begin to dip lower, till they are right above your ass. Your arms wrap around his neck softly and the kiss gets heated and needy. Teeth clashing against each other and small noises come from your lips.

With his hands under your ass, he stands up and lifts you up with him. Legs wrapping around his middle, without breaking the kiss Jungkook finds his way to your bedroom. He throws you onto the bed as if you were a ragdoll, hands finding the hem of his shirt he pulls it over his head, abs out on display; you can feel yourself become wetter. 

Your hands glide up his stomach, muscles rubbing against your fingers. Jungkook holds onto your hands and brings them up to his neck as you’re kneeling on the edge of your bed. His lips connected with yours once again, but much harsher. His tongue playing with yours, the sloppy sounds of your lips are the only thing heard in the room. Jungkook’s rough hands pull your thin tank top over your head, revealing your perked nipples. You gasp as your body is hit with the cold air in the room. 

Placing wet kisses down your neck, his lips find your chest. He breathes over your nipple and you whimper at the warmth it brings. His lips wrapped around your erect nipple, and you threw your head back in pleasure, hands wrapping around the short hair on the back of his head. “Jungkook” you whimper. His hands wrap around your back bringing it closer to him. He moves on to the other one, giving it the same treatment. Suddenly, he throws you back down on the soft mattress. 

Watching how your tits move with the impact. He hovers over you kissing you with need. Jungkook’s hands find the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down and throwing it onto the floor behind him. Now you’re only left in your panties, barely covering your pussy. He can feel himself grow harder in his underwear, looking down at the goddess that you are. Pushing you up so you’re fully on the bed now he dips down and places soft kisses on your inner thigh. You shiver at the touch and whine his name out again. “Jungkook” 

“What, baby? Use your words” 

“I need you” you moan, your eyes fall to look at him. But they’ve already fallen on you, giving you a sultry look. 

“You’re already so soaked for me,” he says, hooking his fingers on your panties. It’s barely doing its job anyway, he yanks them from your body. Your cunt out, ready for him to devour. “You gonna be a good girl for me?” you nod your head. 

“Uh uh, what did I say baby?” 

“Ugh, yes” you say in a needy tone. “I need to feel you Jungkook, please” Finally getting what he wanted he obliges to your request. 

“Just because you said so kindly” his head dips down, placing kitten licks along your clit, you let out a breathy moan at the first contact of his tongue. Then, he’s diving in. Wrapping his arms around your legs pulling himself deeper into your sopping pussy. You try to move around but Jungkook isn’t having it, his grip on you tightens and his pace picks up. Two fingers find your entrance, pushing in slowly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his thick fingers push up into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook” You bring your hands to prop yourself up, and you watch as Jungkook flicks his tongue up and down between your folds. His fingers start to pick up in pace, and he can feel you squeeze him, he knows you’re close to an orgasm. The burn in your lower stomach begins to build. Moaning, loudly you reach your climax, a hand finding his hair, you tug slightly to get him off of you. Your thighs begin to shake beside you he finally pulls away and brings himself back up to you. You stare into his eyes, big black boba eyes staring back at you. 

You can’t believe that’s the man that brought you to your orgasm. His head dips down to connect your lips once again, you can taste yourself on his lips and you moan into his mouth. “Good job, baby,” he says lowly. Your hand slowly reaches down to his aching cock, and you reach into his pants. The contact you make with his cock gets him to moan into your hair. He stands to remove the fabric from his waist. His hard dick comes face to face with you and you can feel yourself start to drool. 

You bring your hand to wrap around it, giving it a few strokes. His head tilts back in pleasure this time, “Ah fuck yeah, baby” Your thumb rubs over the red tip, and then you bring your lips to plant soft kisses over it. “Don’t fucking tease me” his hand brushes through your soft hair. “C’mon don’t be such a pussy, let me have my fun,” you say. 

“I just ate the fuck outta yours, I really fucking need you” he whines. 

You laugh at his whiny state “Who’s the needy one now?” Finally, your lips around his thick cock, the veins feel up against your mouth. You take him in slowly and his hand guides you as you only take half of it. “C’mon baby, I know you can do better than that” You pull back and take him in a deeper, until the tip hits the back of your throat. You gag slightly but take deep breaths in to calm yourself. “There you go” he praises. Your speed picks up as he pushes you on his cock. Your small hand finds the bottom of his cock where his balls lay. Squeezing them in the palm of your hand he doubles over at the extra pleasure. “Fuck, you’re such a cockslut for me, huh? God,” he says pulling you off of him. 

“Turn around, ass up face down” he demands. You turn around and do what he asks. Your face buries into your pull and you get slightly pushed up as he grabs your ass cheeks. “You’re so fucking beautiful” A smack resounds in the room and you let out a gasp. He rubs over the red mark and plants a kiss over it. He moves his hands down to the dip of your waist and holds you down. 

Giving his cocks a few strokes, he teases it up and down your slit. “Look at you, all dripping n’ shit” you moan at his tone. He pushes in slowly, feeling his veins around your walls. The stretch gives you the most pleasure you’ve felt in a long time; he stays there for a little to let you get used to his size. He pulls back until just the tip, and then he pushes in all the way, bottoming out. He moves your hair to the side to watch your ass bounce on him. His pace is quick, and his hands find the front of your chest squeezing your soft tits in his hand. 

“Fuck, harder” you moan.

Your head is lying on the side of your pillow, gripping the soft material from the pleasure. His animalistic speed gets you to moan even louder. The sound of his hips hitting against your ass and the flapping sounds are loud in the quiet room. He looks down to where you connect and watches the ring of your cream disappear inside you. 

“Can I record you baby?”

Too lost in pleasure you push yourself up and grab his phone from the side of you after it fell from his pocket earlier. The flash of the camera lights up the room and he watches himself disappear inside you. “Yeah, you like that baby?” 

Pornographic moans escape your lips as you relish the pleasure. “Yes, yes, yes!” you repeat over and over again.

His tattooed hand comes into the frame and rubs over your ass. Your cheeks have become red because of how hard he’s pounding into you. The flash turns off and he throws his phone to the side, his hand cups your pussy, rubbing against your clit. “Cum with me, angel” 

This tips you over, spurts of come covering both your and his legs, dripping onto the mattress. Ropes of white cover your walls as he comes inside of you. You stay like that for a while, not ready for his cock to leave you. When he pulls away, the loss of being filled makes you whine. He walks away from the bed and disappears into the bathroom. You turn over to lay on your back and your arm comes up to cover your eyes, you don’t hear Jungkook come back from the bathroom and you feel the bed deep. 

“Open your legs, baby, I need to clean you” slowly spreading your legs the cool rag drags through your swollen folds. He throws the small towel into a basket in your room and plops himself on top of you. “I gotta pee, move” you slightly shove his shoulder. “Hold on, let’s just stay here for a little bit I’m tired” His hands wrap around your waist and he lays on your chest like it’s a pillow. You both end up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

The light shining through your blinds suddenly awakens you from your sleep. You look next to you and you admire the way Jungkook looks in the morning. Soft snores came from his pink lips, peacefully snoozing away. Slowly his eyes begin to open, and a small smile begins to form on his lips as he takes in your beauty. “Good morning,” he says as he stretches his limbs. Tattoos out on display as he stretches his arms out in relief. He plops them over your slightly covered body and pulls you closer to him. “Morning,” you say softly to him. His doll-like eyes stare into yours then down to your lips. Moving closer, your eyes shut softly as you can feel his soft lips glide against yours. There’s a spark between you. Like fireworks exploding around you and butterflies erupting in your stomach. Something you’ve never felt before. Loud knocking is heard from your door, causing you both to pull away. 

“Give me a second,” you say under your breath. Nodding his head, he lets you go from his soft grip and watches as you pull a robe over your shoulders, tying it at your waist. When you pull the handle to your front door you don’t expect your mother and your best friend on the other side. 

“Hi sweetie!” your mom pulls in for a tight hug, Hoseok next. 

“Hi, guys, what are you doing here?” you say with a look of confusion on your face. “Sorry, we didn’t call. We just wanted to surprise you!” Hoseok says with a beaming smile on his face. “We missed you and wanted to see you. I hope this isn’t a bad time” he continues. 

You look back to your bedroom door as they set their stuff down in the small living room. “Actually-” before you can continue, Jungkook emerges from your room dressed in the clothes from the night before. Both your mother and Hoseok pause. They look at you, then to Jungkook, and then back to you. “Maybe it is a bad time. You know, mom” Hoseok looks at your mother. You two were so close you were practically family. “I saw this cute little cafe down the street, why don’t we go get some breakfast?” he looks back at you and sends you a little wink. 

“Actually I should start heading out, I need to catch up on some of my school work” Jungkook interrupts. 

“It was nice to meet you guys” he bows politely. He walks over to the door with you following behind him. Once you're at the door he turns around to face you. “I’ll see you later?” he says closely. You nod your head and he leans in to place a small peck against your lips. 

Closing the door behind you Hoseok and your mother are left shocked. “You better start explaining yourself young lady” he points a stern finger at you as if you were in trouble. “Yeah, honey. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Otherwise, we would’ve come over at another time” your mom says to you sweetly 

“No, ma it’s okay,” you say, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “He’s no one really, he’s just a friend” This gets you thinking. What are you and Jungkook? You have so many unanswered questions that you want to ask. But these are the least of your worries. “So, how long are you guys gonna be in town for?” quickly changing the subject. “A few days. School starts again soon and I wanted to see you before I went back” Hobi says, bringing you into a hug. “Plus we haven’t seen or heard from you in a while. Now I can see why” he raises his eyebrows at you in a teasing manner. You roll your eyes at him as you begin to tell him what has happened to you recently. 

Back at Jungkook’s apartment, he can’t stop thinking about the previous night he had spent with you. The way you looked at him, the way you touched him, the way you made him feel. This feeling was strange to him, something he had never felt before. Even with his previous partners. He can’t help but replay everything over again. He wonders how you feel right now. Maybe nothing because you’re with your family. 

He gets a notification from his phone. A party invitation to celebrate the end of the semester. He can’t think of partying right now. All he can think about is you. Thinking about how you feel about him, about how he feels. Everything is so complicated. Now he remembers why he doesn’t catch feelings anymore.

Does he have feelings?

Jungkook is pulled out of his trance when he hears the front door open. “Hey, where were you last night? I didn’t see you in your bed” Jimin says, his arms full of bags of groceries. “___’s” he stops in his tracks as he hears your name fall from his best friend’s lips. He quickly makes his way to where Jungkook is. Like a teenage girl waiting to hear about her friend’s first kiss he sits next to him “Did you guys do it? What happened? Are you guys dating now?” Jimin bombards him with endless questions that he doesn’t have the answers to. 

“Yes we did and no we’re not dating,” he says with a sigh. “So what are you?” Jungkook pauses to think of an answer to that question. But truthfully, he doesn’t know himself. “I don’t know, man. It happened so suddenly. She makes me feel something that I’ve never felt before. I don’t know how to explain it” he looks at his best friend. “It sounds like you like her, dude. I’ve never seen you so confused about a girl before. Usually, it’s just fuck and go” 

Jungkook stares at the floor thinking too much on the topic. He hasn’t heard from you since he left your apartment. And it’s driving him crazy. He dismisses it by changing the subject. “So, did you hear about the party that Seonghwa’s throwing?” “Yeah, you gonna go?” Jimin asks. Jungkook only shrugs his shoulders, maybe going will take him away from his worries. After all, it is the end of the semester. He deserves to let loose a bit.

“Hey, sorry I’m late” you look back at the voice. Jungkook leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay, I was just finishing up this last assignment. I was late on the deadline” you say typing on your computer He hums in response. “So are you going to Seonghwa’s party? I guess he’s throwing it as a celebration for the end of the semester” He says leaning in making sure you are looking at him. You laugh at him for his silly antics and think for a moment.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t have anything else to do so why not?” you shake your head. Finishing up your last assignment you turn it in and finally close your laptop screen. You had been at it for at least two hours with a raging headache. All you wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Jungkook could see it on your face how tired you were.

“You look tired,” he points out. You only smile at him and lean your forehead on his shoulder. He places gentle kisses on your head and rubs small circles on your hand. “You wanna go back to my place?” He can feel you shake your head and he smiles at your actions. 

It’s only later when you bring Jungkook along with you back to your apartment. He lies there on your bed as you finish getting ready for tonight. You both still haven’t talked about that night you spent together and it’s driving you crazy. Jungkook is propped up against the backboard of your bed watching as you get ready. You look back at him in the mirror and you make eye contact.m That same feeling you felt ignites in your chest.

“Can you help me?” you say lifting your hair out of the way. He stands up from your bed and walks over to you.

He places his hand on your waist, the other on the zipper slowly zipping it up. He places a kiss on your bare shoulder and you turn your head to face him. He looks down at you with that same look again, the look that always had your heart racing. He leans down and connects your lips. Using his tongue to separate them, into something more heated. You moan into his mouth, softly pulling at his hair making his head tilt back. Breaking the kiss he smiles down at you and squeezes your waist. 

“Let’s go, Jimin said they started” you nod your head at him. Grabbing your purse and spraying a small amount of perfume around your neck you let him pull you out the door. 

Once you make it to the party, you’re met with the loud noise of people talking and the heavy-based music. You’re hand in hand with Jungkook. He looks around to see if he can find any of his friends. You spot Taehyung at a table full of alcohol talking to a girl you’ve never seen before. He waves over to you and Jungkook. “Hey, guys! Haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” he pulls you in for a friendly hug, but over his shoulder you can see the girl he was talking with eyeing Jungkook. A familiar feeling of jealousy starts to brew within your chest. 

You brush it off with a smile and nod your head “I’ve been good, How have you been?” you ask him 

“You know, just been around doing whatever. I’m so glad the semester’s over. The past few months have been kicking my ass” he laughs. You were so immersed in your conversation with Taehyung that you didn't realize Jungkook was leaning down to you. “I’m gonna go find Jimin,” he says into your ear. You nod and send him a smile, he kisses the side of your head as he walks away to find his friends. As he’s walking away you catch the girl from earlier, her eyes trail along his well-built body. Once he disappears behind a door into another room she turns her head around back to you.

“Are you guys dating?” you honestly don’t know how to answer her question. Technically you’re not together, but you do things other people who say they are together do. This question stirs up a load of confusion in your brain. Taehyung, noticing the awkward silence on your end, butts in and says “He’s currently not looking for anything right now. You wanna dance?” He holds his hand out for the girl and she gladly takes it. Now that you’re left alone you realize that you don’t really know anyone there. 

You leave your spot on the hunt to look for Jungkook. His back is turned to you. Jimin looks over his shoulder looking at you, his head turning to see who his friend’s eyes had found. Jungkook walks over to you and his free hand finds your waist. “Hi, baby. You having fun?” you nod your head at him. A small smile sprawled on your lips. He notices a look on your face, his eyebrows furrow in concern. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, placing his cup on the counter next to him. You look up to him, his hand finding yours. You can see that look again. The one he gave you before the party, it makes your heart jump in your chest. You only shake your head in response, smiling at him. “Nothing, it’s just a little crowded in here,” you say into his ear. 

“Let’s get out then. This party is kinda lame anyway” he says as he pulls you away. You slightly tug at him, “No, it’s okay. It looked like you were having fun. You stay I’ll just find an Uber” He shakes his head in disagreement, “Really, I don’t mind. I don’t want you out by yourself. Especially at this hour. C’mon” Sighing in defeat you follow behind him hand in hand to the front door. Jungkook had told himself that he’d go to this party to let off some steam.

But he can’t seem to escape you. He doesn’t want to, it’s like you both have an invisible string attached to each other by the waist. You’re all he thinks about now. Everything reminds him of you and it scares him how much he feels for you. How much he yearns for you, but he won’t allow his heart to go through what he endured in the past. When you make it back to his apartment you take off his jacket that he had offered you earlier and place it on the coat rack next to the door. 

“Do you want something to drink?” he says. You look back at him from the living room shaking your head at him. 

“No, I’m fine”

For some odd reason, the air between you two has shifted. It has been different since you spent the night together. None of you dared to bring it up, to discuss what was going on between the two of you. Pulling you out of your thoughts soft music plays through the apartment.

You look up at Jungkook to find him standing next to a stereo playing with the different discs in the tray next to it. He looks back at you and softly smiles. Making his way next to you on the couch he sits closely, to the point you can feel his warmth radiating from his built body. 

Inside conjuring a warm heart, a person that doesn’t match his hard exterior. His bubbly eyes look down at you, with a look that makes your heart pound. He leans in closer, your noses touching, and your breathing pattern slows down to match his. As he gets closer the music starts to fade from your head. He gently places his lips on yours. This feeling is almost like intertwining two souls. Completely magical. This makes his heart rate pick up, the same feeling he had when he came back to his apartment all those nights ago. 

He doesn’t want it to scare him, but it does. 

Something inside tells him he should stop but he can’t. 

His heart is telling him to keep going. 

So, he does.

Your arms find their way around his neck, while his hands grip onto your waist. He pulls you up into his lap gliding his hands up to the zipper of your dress. Jungkook pulls the strap from your shoulder slowly, leaving your dress to pool at your waist, planting kisses on your shoulder. You look down at him with a look of something he can’t describe. It makes him feel warm, comfortable, and almost like he’s meant to be here with you. 

Small moans escape your mouth as he places one of his hands on your cheek moving them up into your hair. The small snap of your bra fills the silence of the room. The touch of the cold air on your perked nipples sends a shiver down your spine. He places wet kisses down your neck, trailing down to your chest. Wrapping his pink lips around you, you gasp out in pleasure. Your hands find a place in his soft raven hair tugging slightly. 

He draws small circles pulling you closer to him. He could never let you go. It’s like you’re a magnet pulling him closer with each breath you take. You’re like a never-ending labyrinth that he can’t escape. 

When did you have such an effect on him? 

The soft touch of your fingers on his abdomen sends chills through his entire body. Lifting his shirt over his head, his abs out on display. You lean down, placing kisses over his chest. Your hand finds its way over his beating heart. His fingers wrap around your wrist, rubbing small circles with his thumb. He watches you intently. Taking in all of your beauty, completely raw. 

What are you doing to him? 

You make his head spin endlessly. For a moment, you’re both still. Staring into each other’s eyes. There’s something different about your dynamic, something more warm, more comforting, maybe even like home. It really does frighten him deeply. But he doesn’t want this to end, ever. Slowly you lean in connecting your lips once again. He turns you over onto your back, his legs on either side of you. He pulls the dress down your legs and undoes his belt as he watches your chest move up and down as you try to catch your breath.

His big hand glides over your chest up to your throat, gently squeezing. He leans down, attaching himself to you. He parts your lips with his tongue. His free hand finds its way into your panties, exploring your folds. You moan out loud as you feel his digits enter. Covering your sound with his lips you moan into his mouth. Brows furrowing in absolute pleasure. He pulls away to watch your expressions. Pure ecstasy is drawn over your face as he adds another finger. 

He can feel himself grow harder in his boxers, watching as you enjoy yourself.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” he says under his breath. You only reply with a soft moan against his lips. Your foreheads together as you have a hand playing with his hair and the other gripping the sofa. He draws circles around your clit, getting to reach your high. Moaning out his name, he crashes his lips against yours. 

Pulling his hand away from your heat, he clutches his fingers around the waistband of your panties pulling them down your legs. He stands to take his boxers off, throwing them to the side. “I wanna taste you,” you say. He looks at you with his doll-like eyes. And then he shakes his head, giving you permission.

“Why don’t we have some fun?”

He lays down on the couch while you move to get on top of him. You take his hard cock into your hand, gliding it up and down. He wraps his arms around your waist planting soft kisses on your thighs. Jungkook leans in and places soft lips against your wet folds pulling you into him. Your hot breath hits the tip of cock and the sounds of his moans send vibrations through your body.  Planting soft kisses to his tip you run your tongue around until you take him in fully. 

This only gets him to be rougher. He completely pulls you down onto your face, drowning himself in your taste. You moan around his dick sucking harder. The fast motions of his tongue get you to pull off moaning out loud. “C’mon, baby. You said you wanted a taste” he teases. 

Your thighs begin to shake as he tongue finds your clit, running figure 8’s harsh. You wrap your lips around him once again and begin sucking. The sound of your wet pussy resounds in the almost quiet room, along with your moans. Your hand starts to stroke him at a fast pace. He moans into you, this gets you to lift yourself off of him. He only pulls you back strongly and quickens his pace. Not being able to take it anymore, you reach your high. You moan around him pulling off of him again. He gives you time to catch up to your normal breathing pattern.

Once you’ve calmed down he lifts you up so you’re facing him. His hands run up into your hair as he admires the way you look right now, sweat glistening across your forehead, your eyes slightly droopy. You’re like a goddess in his eyes. The most ethereal being he’s ever set his eyes on, he can’t look away. 

He runs his nose across your cheek, leaving small kisses on the corner of your cheek. “You ready for one more” he says quietly. 

“Mhm,” you hum softly. Carefully, Jungkook lifts his hips up slightly from the cushion beneath him.

Gently holding you, he reaches down to grab his still, hard cock. Teasing your entrance you moan out from the sensitivity. You dig your face into the crook of his neck muffling your moans. Slowly he enters you, your warm walls sucking him in. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, holding on to him like he’ll slip through them and disappear. He starts in a slow pace, hands finding comfort on the nape of your neck. You move your head to face him watching his face contort in pleasure. Leaning in you place soft pecks on his lip gradually becoming rougher. 

His pace picks up, roughly thrusting in hard. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your high. “Use me, baby,” you say in his ear. “I can take it” With those words he wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles his face into your neck. “Fuck, angel you’re so good to me” With one last stroke he fills you with his cum. Riding out his high he takes your soft lips with his and brings you into a passionate kiss. He can feel your juices drip from your spent cunt. 

Jungkook carefully lifts you in his arms and brings you to his bedroom, laying you on his bed. He grabs a towel from his bathroom and brings it over to you. The feeling of the wet towel against you makes you twitch. He worriedly looks up at you trying to read your expression. “Are you okay?” he says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine” you whisper, laying a hand on his cheek. 

“You wanna take a shower?” nodding your head you let him carry you away to the bathroom to help you wash up. He walks in first and sets you down on your feet. Jungkook leans over to grab the body wash from the corner of the shower.

Delicately rubbing it across your body. His arm is wrapped around your tummy, keeping you stable. You watch as the soap suds wash away, listening to his calm breathing. Next, he grabs the bottle of shampoo, squirting some into his hand and then soothingly rubbing it into your hair. You turn in his arms wrapping your arms around his waist, closing your eyes as you let him take care of you. That glowing feeling in your chest starts up again. The same feeling you have any time you’re with him. Your ear is against his strong chest. Listening to his heart beat rhythmically. 

You don’t notice how tired you are until you suddenly feel the softness of his pillow hitting your head. Jungkook’s strong arms hold you tightly causing you to fall into a slumber. That night you dream about all of the events that happened.

The loud noise on the other side of the door causes you to wake up. You turn around to an empty spot on the bed next to you. You lay in bed for a moment, replaying the events of last night. When the door opens to Jungkook’s door Jimin doesn’t expect you to walk out of it wearing his best friend’s shirt. “Oh hi, ___,” he says with a pan of eggs in his hand. You look around for Jungkook, but to your dismay, he’s nowhere to be found. “Where’s Jungkook?” you say. 

“Uhh, I don’t know. He’s not in there?” he says with confusion written on his face. 

“No, I thought he’d be out here” 

“I didn’t see him when I got home this morning”

Questions start to brew in your head. You walk over to your purse that you left on the couch, digging for your phone. Looking through your contacts you look for the man in question.

Me: Hey, where’d you go? [9:15 AM]

You walk over to pick up your clothes off the floor, embarrassed as Jimin sits at the table eating his breakfast. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, he never leaves unannounced. You shake your head and give him a small nod. 

When you get back to your apartment you set down your bag on the sofa next to the coffee table, slumping your body down along with it. The TV remote set beside you as you turned it on to kill time now that you no longer had class for the time being. About an hour passes by and still no sign of Jungkook. Your suspicion grows larger. He never takes this long to respond. 

The sound of your keys rings through your ear as you pick them up from the bowl next to the door. You drive with only one place in mind. The rapid knocking disrupts Jin’s peaceful slumber. His mouth was wide open as he sleeps his life away. Quickly he jolts from his bed and walks over to his front door. “Who the hell is knocking at my door at eleven o’clock in the morning?” he grumbles under his breath. When he opens the door he’s met with an irritated look on your face. “__?” 

“Where’s Jungkook? I spent the night at his and he disappeared and now he isn’t returning my messages” 

Jin looks at you in confusion. “Is everything alright? He hasn’t come by in a while” he says 

“I don’t know, I’m just-” you pause

“I’m worried about him” 

Now Jin looks even more confused. “Daddy?” Minchae speaks behind her father, dressed in her unicorn pajamas and half of her hair is up in a small bun. The moment she realizes it’s you on the other side of the door she gasps in joy and quickly runs up to you, engulfing you with her tiny arms. “Hi sweetie,” you say, a soft smile playing across your lips. “Are you here to see Uncle Kookie?!” she exclaims. “Ahhh Minnie, I think mommy wanted to finish doing your hair, only one side of your head is done” 

“Mommy said she was gonna put my hair into space buns!” 

“Ohh so that’s what those are called, well you better hurry up so you look even more beautiful for today” you watch as the father-daughter scene plays out. You can’t believe how much you’ve grown to love this little girl in only one night. Absolutely adorable. “I’m sorry, ___ but I haven’t seen Kook in at least a few weeks.” a look of disappointment grows across your features. “It’s okay, thank you,” you say. 

You sit in your car –completely distraught. Your phone in your hand, tight in your grasp. The device buzzes once, and then twice. No answer. Jungkook looks down at his phone, reading your name with the cute flower emoji that always reminded him of you. He couldn’t bring himself to face you yet. Every single time he’s around you it’s like you consume him. It’s like he’s lost in his own world filled with you. Nobody around him matters except for you – and it terrifies the fuck out of him this feeling completely engulfs him. 

Jungkook lies in the open field close to the park he took you to all those weeks ago. Trapped in nothing but a void of endless thoughts of what he has to do now. Mind hazy. He looks down at his phone again, your name appears once again. For the second time, he ignored it. 

1 month later

The fall leaves crunch under your new Uggs you bought a while back. The new semester has started and now it is time for endless nights of no sleep and studying. The buzzing of your phone vibrates against you, pulling it out of your back pocket. “Hey,” you say. “Hi, you wanna meet up later during lunch?” You pull your phone away from your ear to check if you have any classes around that time. “Yeah, let’s meet up at one?” 

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then” You hang up the phone and continue on your way to class. When you get there, there aren't as many students as you were expecting. Some of them may have still been on vacation. I mean, could you blame them? No one ever wants to go back to school after a long break. But it has to be done somehow. 

You sit down in the seat you always sat at, looking over to the seat next to you. Feeling pain in your chest as you think about the man that would sit next to you every day. The man that broke your heart. Looking away and down at your last semester notes to refresh your brain. 

After the many hours of looking down at your professors, you finally manage to make it to the diner. You slump down into your seat, throwing your bag onto the one next to you. “Rough day?” Hoseok says. He decided to transfer to your school during his second semester. He says that they offered more than they did back home. “Dude, you don’t understand how much my head hurts. It’s only my first day back and I’ve written so many notes it’s not even funny” you complain. Your best friend chuckles at you as he looks down at the menu to figure out what he was going to have for lunch. 

“How do you like the school? It’s nice, right” you ask. He looks up at your question. 

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t realize how big it was” There’s silence for a moment until he speaks again. “Have you heard from him?” You pause whatever you’re doing and bring your attention to him again. Clearing your throat you say “No, I haven’t. And I don’t think I want to” 

“When was the last time you heard from him?” 

“Uh-” you pause

“The last time I spent the night with him after that party” It’s silent again. 

“What a douche,” he says. “He’s an asshole for that. How does he go from being all over you and acting like a couple when-”

“I don’t know, I just wanna stop talking about it.” you interrupt. From then on you only talk about school and the thought of you getting a cat.

“How can they be so cute yet so dumb sometimes?” you ask yourself. The compilation of cats is displayed on the TV as you’re dressed in a thin tank top and a pair of sweatpants. Ice cream in your hands –after the eventful day you had you deserved it. It’s not only when you're interrupted by a knocking on your door. After finally getting comfortable you, once again, have to get up. Maybe it was Hoseok coming back to get something he left. “What did you forget this time?” you yell.

You completely stop when you find that it isn’t your best friend on the other side of your door. But the man that would give you those same sparkly eyes whenever he was around you. “What are you doing here?” it comes out in almost a whisper. “__” Jungkook walks forward to hold you.

You flinch back, moving your arms to cross over your stomach. His heart hurts at your actions. But he understands why you did it.

“I wanna talk to you.” he says quietly.

He steps into the house and closes the door behind him. “What is there to talk about? I didn’t think you had anything to talk about” you threw at him.

“I’m sorry-”

“You’re sorry?”

“You’re sorry for making me look like a fucking idiot?” you can feel your blood begin to boil. Tear ducts forming at your waterline –the lump in your throat beginning to grow, preventing you from speaking.

“You’re not sorry for shit Jungkook, you made me feel so shitty about myself for thinking-” your voice breaks “For thinking what, __?”

“For thinking that you loved me! For thinking that I actually saw something with you, fuck! Jungkook, you don’t understand, you don’t understand how much you hurt me.” you cry to him screaming at the top of your lungs.

Jungkook is completely still. Unmoving.

“I do, love you” he says quietly.

But you don’t take it.

“Bullshit”

You move your head to the side, not baring to look at him. “Get out,”

“Please-”

“Get out! I don’t want to see you anymore” you exclaim. But, he resists. Jungkook walks up to you, wanting so badly to hold you for hurting you. Much to his surprise, you let him. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says into your hair. Your face is buried into his chest, the fabric of his hoodie becoming soaked because of you. “No” you muffle.

“No. No, no, no!”

You push him away. Hitting on his chest, he looks down at you, a shameful look on his face. “Get out! Leave!” you pound on his chest. He takes every hit like it’s nothing. It only irritates you further. “Please, leave Jungkook” he nods in response. Slowly making his way to the same door he walked through.

Sobs echo through the apartment. Falling to your knees you cry into your hands.

Jungkook, still on the other side of the door, hears your sobs. His own tear fell down his round cheeks. He couldn’t do anything but beat himself up over and over again for the way he treated you. For the way he acted towards you and for leaving you in such an awful state. He makes it back to his car, and he sits there for a moment in silence, lip quivering as he thinks about everything he had put you through.

Present 

“Finally! It took you about five thousand years to leave that room” Jimin says dramatically. The afternoon sun was shining and he had been in and out of the house for the majority of the day. However, Jungkook had been wallowing in his guilt. The guilt he’s felt for the past month and the additional days. The quiet boy sits at the counter sluggishly. Days passed since he last saw you. You were all he thought about – day and night every hour and every second. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like a total fuck up” voice groggy. 

“C’mon, have you at least tried talking to her?” there’s a long silence until Jungkook says something. “She doesn’t want to talk-” Just the thought of not being able to hold you or even look at you is killing him on the inside. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me. Man, what the fuck am I going to do? I’m so lost” he admits. 

He was so scared of this. Losing you. You were the bane of his happiness and he did everything but keep you safe, instead, he completely let everything go – including you. The cluttering of the bowl and spoon snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts. “Well you need to eat, I haven’t seen you this disoriented since you had to say bye to Gureum when you left home. You’re even worse now” 

His appetite has gone away ever since he stopped talking to you. He had been spiraling, thinking all about you – how he felt about you. He couldn’t take it anymore, the overthink, the constant hurt of not spending his time with you. Staring at his bowl of cereal contemplating if he should call you, he doubts you’d ever pick up but he has to try, right? Jungkook stands from the counter and walks back to his room. “Hey! You didn’t finish eating!” Jimin exclaims from the other room. Frantically, Jungkook searches everywhere for his phone. He hadn’t picked it up in days and has been sitting somewhere in his room untouched. 

Finally, when he finds the piece of technology he quickly presses the power button; wishing for it to turn on already. To his dismay, it had been dead since he set it down. He looks around for his charger. After finding the wretched thing he plugs it into the outlet next to his bed and plugs the other end into his phone. 

After what felt like hours the phone displayed a white apple in the middle of it. He scrolls through his contacts looking for your name desperately. That flower that will forever remind him of you appears in front of his eyes and he quickly clicks it. The multiple rings vibrate through his ear. 

“C’mon” 

Your call has been forwarded–

“Fuck” he tries one more time. The ringing begins but quickly ends after the fourth. His brows touched in distraught. “Fuck __,” he says under his breath. Out of impulse, Jungkook picks up whatever clothes he finds first and throws them on. Not caring about how he’d look in front of you. 

He rushes out of his bedroom door and picks up his keys from the bowl set on the counter. After hearing the noise Jimin says “Where are you going?” but before the younger could respond he was already out of the door. Upon opening the door Jungkook swiftly closes it when he gets into the driver’s seat and carefully but hurriedly makes his way to your place. 

A stop light prevents him from getting there any quicker he yells “Fucking light, hurry up!”. 

Following up after many stop signs and stop lights, he finally makes it to the place he yearns to be at the most. Almost running up the steps he trips over one. “Shit” He reaches your floor and walks up to the door. Repeatedly knocking on the wood. He takes his phone out of his sweat pocket and pulls up your chat. 

Me: Please open the door [3:00 PM]

He waits for the dancing dots to appear and when they do his heart jumps for just a moment but only for it to settle down after reading your text. 

__ 🌺: no i don’t want to see you [3:01 PM]

“I’m not gonna go away unless you open this door!!”

“Go away Jungkook!” he hears your voice over his excessive knocking. 

“Please, I want to talk to you” It’s only when he hears shuffling on the other side of the door that he stops. 

Everything disappears when he sees your face again. After going a day without seeing you. “What do you want” your eyes look everywhere but him. 

“I love you.” 

“And before you say anything let me just explain” you stand there blankly looking at his boba like eyes that you always adored. 

“I love how much you care for others, I love how you can take a joke and not get upset about it, I love the way you look at me, I love the way you are with me, I love everything about you, __” you stare at him with glassy eyes. You bite your lip, preventing yourself from letting out a sob. 

“I love you so much that I’m scared that I’ll lose you. Scared that you won’t love me back. Fuck I love you so much that it pains me to see how much I hurt you” now Jungkook has tears forming. You hear him sniffle, your hand coming up to wipe the tear that had slid down his cheek. 

“Oh, Jungkook”

“I love you, too” 

After hearing those three words, his hands cup your cheeks. “I love you so much,” he says against your lips — softly pecking until he wraps his around yours.

The early night breeze flows through your window. The large man wraps his arms around your waist, holding on to you tightly – almost as if you’d vanish if he let go. Your hands are tangled into his hair playing with the soft mane against your fingers. A show plays in the background that none of you are really paying attention to. His hands find their way under your shirt softly touching your skin. It’s not until you yawn into your hand does he looks up at you. “Are you tired?” 

“Yeah, a little bit” 

He moves up so he’s now in front of your face, and his eyes move down to your lips. Gently brushing against them. One of your arms wraps around his neck – securing him in his spot. “Do you want to go to bed?” you shake your head up and down and stare into his bright eyes. 

To your surprise, he tightens his grip around your waist and properly carries you to your room. Jungkook kicks the door open softly and carefully places you on the bed. He hovers over you for just a moment until he’s leaning in. Lips locking, his hands roam your stomach. His tongue tangles with yours, his hand moving towards your face, cuffing your cheek delicately swiping his thumb over it. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he says, pulling away a bit. 

“You know what, I’m not really that tired. 

That sly grin appears on your face and he shakes his head at it. “Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, maybe I can stay up for another hour or two” 

Slowly, he slides your body up further on the bed, hands roaming your waist. His lips place feather-light kisses on the side of your lips. Your arms wrap around his neck bringing him closer to you – your lips colliding. Delicately, handling you as if you’d break if he was any rougher. “Can I take this off?” 

“Mm” Jungkook’s fingers hook with the waistline of your pants slowly dragging it down your body. Along with your panties, the cold air hits your pussy – a shiver running along your spine. Jungkook kisses down to your waist, lifting your shirt a bit to reveal the softness of your skin. 

His mouth hovering over your nether lips. Kisses are pressed against your inner thigh. Your head tilted to the ceiling, relishing in his careful touches. Finally, Jungkook’s hands wrap around your thighs, bringing you closer to him. The warmth of his breath against your sex. 

Your hands find comfort in his soft raven hair tugging harshly, you plead “Please, baby”

“I gotchu Angel, don’t worry” his eyes look up at your desperate expression. He dives in, licking a long stripe against your tainted pussy – legs thrown over his shoulders. Moaning, your other hand finds the pillow beneath your head. His erratic movements pull sounds from you that he’s been yearning to hear for so long now. 

In complete bliss, he brings you impossibly closer. His tongue finds your bundle of nerves running figure 8s along where you’re most sensitive. A finger prods at your entrance, slowly but surely entering you. “Fuck,” 

“Yeah? You like that baby?” he watches as your face contorts in pleasure. Soon enough he adds another. The nasty sounds of your soaked pussy fills the room. “Right there, Jungkook” 

“Am I making you feel good Angel?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you scream. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cu-” It’s then again that his mouth dives in. Much rougher, his tongue faster. The squeeze to your thighs and his harsh movements are what send you over the edge.  “Yes! Jungkook, right there baby” you moan. Your essence spills onto him, he takes his time cleaning you up with his mouth. Your hips twitch out of sensitivity. 

“I know, baby. I know” 

He kisses your stomach before making his way back to you. He connects his lips with yours, you can taste yourself on his tongue. The sides of his mouth are wet from your cum. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one without clothes” 

Jungkook’s hands run along the sides of your waist. “Who said I was done?” 

He stands tall in front of you. His hands fall to grab the hem of his shirt – pulling it away from his torso along his sweatpants and boxers. His cock hitting his stomach, the sight making you drool. 

Hurriedly he connects your lips, tongues colliding. Your hand finds the nape of his neck playing with his now long hair. The same feeling explodes within his chest. The same feeling he was so scared of dealing with, now becoming a part of him. 

“I need you, baby”

“You have me, my love” 

Love. So unfamiliar yet it comes so natural to him now – with you.

His cock prods at your entrance, sliding it against your wet pussy. “Eugh, baby please, please” you beg. Jungkook places small kisses against your lips as if to calm you down. “I gotchu baby, I need you to relax for me” 

Slowly he slides home, easily entering you. Wrapping your arms around his neck –holding tightly. His hips rock into yours slowly at first. The euphoria of finally being with you filled his mind. 

At last, he’s with the one he most treasures, the person that has found home in his heart. 

His hands ran along your thigh, lifting so your legs were wrapped around him. After making sure you were comfortable enough he picks up the pace. The room is filled with the filthy sounds of your moans combined with the squelching of your pussy. 

“You okay baby?” 

Your head bobs up and down you say “More than okay”

He worships you through the whole night. Thanking every star above that they’ve brought you to him. “I love you, angel, so much,” he says in an almost whisper. His hand cupped your cheek running his thumb along the softness of your cheek.

“I love you too” stars are in your eyes. Watching as the man before you admires every part of you. Never wishing to let go. His hand comes down to where you need him most. Rubbing figure 8s along your clit. And this drives you over the edge. Your thighs shake, clenching around his cock – sucking him in. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum” 

“Please come in me, baby. I need you so bad” 

With his final thrust, your walls are covered with white ropes of his cum. The room is now silent, only filled with your breathing. “Did I hurt you?” he says. Silently shaking your head you look up at him, examining every freckle and mole on his well-structured face. “Let’s get you cleaned up then, hmm?” 

“Okay” 

Jungkook gets up and walks over to your bathroom, already knowing where everything is. When he comes back to the bed he finds you fast asleep. A small chuckle escapes from his lips as he plays with the towel in his hands. He picks up his boxers he had tossed somewhere across the room and puts them on. He looks through your drawers and looks for something more comfortable for you to sleep in. 

Carefully he dresses you in one of his T-shirts he had left there a while ago and your panties. Jungkook tucks the both of you into bed, cuddling into your chest. Quietly he says “I love you, Angel. More than you’ll ever know.

 The room is still dark when you wake up. The dim lamp is lit on the corner of your desk. Jungkook is sat up against the headboard, his phone illuminating his strong features. The clock beside you reads 5:45 AM. He hears the ruffling of your sheets beside him, pulling his attention away from his phone and to you. 

“Hey, what are you doing awake?” you say. He shrugs his shoulders and replied “Dunno, couldn’t sleep” 

“I was up all night thinking” 

“Thinking about what?” he strikes your curiosity. “About how much I hurt you, and how I caused you to hurt so much because of my stupid feelings-”

“Baby, it doesn’t matter now. We’re together now, right? Let’s focus on us right now. Not what happened in the past” you say, kissing the mark on his shoulder. “I know, it’s just” he pauses. “I should’ve talked to you, instead of walking away, y’know? This all could’ve been avoided if I had just came to you.” 

“I know that it’s hard to express what you’re feeling. But I can help you through that. The only way I can do that is if you don’t shut me out, I need to know what’s wrong so we can get through whatever it is together” his eyes are focused on his fingers playing with the comforter. 

“Hey, look at me” Your hand tilts his head towards you. Those bubbly eyes looking at you now. “I need you to talk to me, okay?” he nods his head. Eyes teary after thinking about everything. He sniffles, lips quivering. “I love you,” you comfort. You run your thumb across his lips gently, calming him down. “I love you too” You lean closer to him, placing kisses against his lips. 

-

“Uncle Kookie!!” Minchae calls for her favorite uncle. “Hey, munchkin, how are you?” he places a kiss on her cheek. You watch from behind your boyfriend smiling from ear to ear watching him with his baby niece. “I’m good! Hi auntie!” she says to you next. “Hey Minnie, I missed you!” you say as she practically dives into your arms. You both walk to the backyard where everyone else is. Everyone greets the both of you warmly. Hugs are given and small conversations are made. 

You have occupied yourself with Aria as you speak on and on about how much Minchae has grown. Watching her play with all of the toys she had lying around in the grass. Jin and Namjoon stood by the grill conversing as well. Jimin had been playing one of his Mario games with Taehyung and Yoongi had his guitar in his hand, playing a soft melody, setting the mood.

This is what Jungkook had been looking for: surrounded by the people he loved the most. His eyes find you watching his niece do one of the funny dances she always likes to do. A smile adores your pretty lips, your cheeks rosy from the slight fall breeze. He loved seeing you happy like this, loved how you were with his friends, loved the way you always had room in your heart for anyone, no matter the circumstance. 

Jungkook loved you and will forever say those three words for the rest of his life.

yay!! after so long, I've finished wait for your love 🥹. it has been a long time coming but i pray you all like it. this has to be my favorite to have written AND my longest! i do hope that in the future that i have the ability to create more stories like this one. i do have a few ideas in mind but ill let this one sink in 😊. happy reading lovelies 💜

[deanwinchesterwebsite]

"This is uh. When I was growing up me and my dad used to go at it all the time. Over almost anything, but uh, I used to have really long hair way down past my shoulders, I was 17 or 18, oh man he used to hate it. And we got to where we were fighting so much that I'd spend a lot of time out of the house. And in the summertime it wasn't so bad, 'cause it was warm and your friends were out. But in the winter I remember standin' downtown and it would get so cold, when the wind would blow. I had this phone booth that I used to stand in and I used to call my girl for hours at a time just talking to her all night long.

"And finally I'd get my nerve up to go home. I'd stand there in the driveway and he'd be waiting for me in the kitchen. And I'd tuck my hair down in my collar and I'd walk in, and he'd call me back to sit down with him. And the first thing he'd always ask me was what did I think I was doin' with myself? And the worst part about it was I could never explain it to him.

"I remember I got in a motorcycle accident once and I was laid up in bed and he had a barber come in and cut my hair. And man, I can remember telling him that I hated him and that I would never ever forget it.

"And he used to tell me 'Man, I can't wait until the army gets you. When the army gets you they're gonna make a man outta you. They're gonna cut all that hair off, and they'll make a man outta you.'

"This was I guess in '68 and there was a lot of guys from the neighborhood goin' to Vietnam. I remember the drummer in my first band comin' over to my house with his marine uniform on, saying that he was goin' and that he didn't know where it was. And a lot of guys went and a lot of guys didn't come back. And a lot that came back weren't the same anymore.

"And I remember the day I got my draft notice. I hid it from my folks, and three days before my physical me and my friends went out and we stayed up all night. And we got on the bus to go that morning, man we were all so scared. [Laughs]. and I went, and I failed. [Crowd cheering.]

"And I came home, — [laughs] it's nothing to applaud about — But I remember comin' home after I'd been gone for three days, and walkin' in the kitchen and my mother and father were sittin' there, and my father said, 'Where you been?' and I said, uh, 'I went to take my physical.'

"He says, 'What happened?' I said, 'They didn't take me.'

"And he said, 'That's good.'"

-Bruce Springsteen, on Live/1975-85

[dorkszn]

COME AND GET THAT + logan howlett

SYNP — being home for the summer from school isn’t so bad. it isn’t so bad until your motorcycle stops working. and your dad tells you to call over the man that inspired you to get the bike in the first place and the closest one who could fix it, his best friend and your longtime crush, logan.

WARNINGS — masc reader, age gap ( no duh ), reader’s dad is kinda a dick, subbot reader, oral, petnames, logan’s a little mean, slight degradation, kitchen sex, hair pulling, eventual smut, porn with plot | 3.4K ( im sorry 😭 )

PART TWO ( coming soon )

Summertime. It’s such a wonderful time. You get out of school and can drive back to your hometown. You see your parents and siblings and get to flop onto the mattress of your old childhood bedroom.

But your favorite part? Getting to see your dad’s best friend, Logan. Who seems only to be getting hotter and hotter with each passing year. Only maybe you’re just getting more worked up and shy with every year that passes because each summer you can barely stand to look him in the eye or be alone in a room with him.

You’ve been home for about a week or two by this point, getting back into the comfort and schedule of your hometown life. Luckily but also somehow unfortunately, you have yet to see Logan since you returned. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know you’re home.

So imagine your surprise when you’re standing outside of your parent’s house with your dad, examining your sleek motorcycle that just wouldn’t start. You know how to do basic motorcycle care that of course, Logan taught you. He was the one who inspired and motivated you to get the damn bike anyways. So why were you surprised when your dad suggested calling him?

“Guess I’ll give Logan a call and see if he’s busy. He should know how to fix it,” your father says in a small sigh as he stands up straight.

“Wait, call Logan?” You repeat even though you know it’s dumb question and that you were just nervous to see him again since winter break.

“Yeah, Logan, you got a problem with that or something, squirt?” Your father responds slightly mockingly as he repeats your obviously odd question. You just grumble slightly under your breath.

“No, dad, just… go ahead and call em’,” you say in a sigh as the two of you stalk back towards the house. After that, it only takes half an hour before the inevitable and you see that familiar pickup pull into your driveway.

You reluctantly trail behind your dad like a clingy pup instead of a grown man to go greet Logan. You don’t miss the way he smirks with his signature cigar between his lips as he very slowly drags his eyes on your body.

“And when was I gonna find out my favorite college kid was home?” Logan asks gruffly, plucking the cigar from his lips with an outlet of smoke. His voice damn near sends shivers down your spine everytime you hear it.

You just opt for shrugging and giving him a casual smile. “Find out when you find out, I guess,” you say and of course, he lets out that little chuckle and snort that you love so much.

Logan puts his calloused, large hand out for you to greet him correctly only for him to grab your hand and pull you into him. You can’t help the small, very unmanly yelp that leaves you when he grabs you so suddenly. The smell of him hitting you so quick it damn near makes your mind spin. Cigars and ash and wood and leather and just him. Gosh, it almost drives you so crazy you barely notice the light headlock he put you in.

When you do finally notice, it definitely does not help the flare of heat in the pit of your stomach. You try to brush it off, tugging at his incredibly strong and veiny biceps with a small grin to pry him off of you. Finally, he releases you and you can’t help but take in a relieved breath.

“Still as much of a little shit as ever, kid,” Logan taunts, placing his cigar back between his lips. Lips that you wanted to feel on yours so bad. “You sure you ain’t getting smaller with each year?”

You roll your eyes for the second time that night. He knew you weren’t getting smaller. It just seemed like he was getting bigger even at his grown age. And damn, is he big. 6 feet 2 inches and 205 pounds of pure muscle. “Yeah, I’m sure, Logan,” you end up mumbling in response as you stuff your hands in your pockets.

Logan just chuckles again. “Yeah, okay,” he responds sarcastically. With another puff of smoke, he looks to your father then your bike. “So, what’s the problem, Bub?” He inquires.

You trail your father as he walks Logan over to your motorcycle. The same model he recommended years ago. You barely listen as your father explains the situation to his best friend, your eyes stuck to the man in the red flannel.

“Looks like you just need an oil change, kid. And your fuel filters clogged,” Logan says in a small grunt as he stands from his kneeling position next to your bike.

“Damn, squirt, you can’t tell when you need an oil change?” Your dad questions, pinching the bridge of his nose. You frown slightly and your brows furrow.

“I just didn’t notice, okay?” You grumble in reply.

Your father sighs before looking back at Logan. “Could ya fix it, Howlett?” Your father questions, folding his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah, could change the oil if the kid wants. The fuel filter, on the other hand, you’re gonna have to replace the part. I’m assuming you don’t just got one layin’ around here,” Logan explains and he dusts his palms off.

“Perfect. Time for the kid to learn to do something for himself,” your father says with a grin of mock-approval. Oh, how you wish your mother was here instead. Logan just lets out a small chuckle that seems just a little bit forced. “Well, I gotta head off to work. Help Logan out, will ya? Get him whatever he needs or asks for.” Your father sighs to you.

He’s going to leave? The two of you? Alone? Does he actually want you to pass away? “Yeah, dad, I got it,” you say to cover up the way your heart almost immediately started racing. Then it was only minutes later before you were watching your father pull out of your driveway and zip down the street, leaving just you and Logan.

Logan turns to you and damn you could almost feel the way he looked at you. You nervously pull your eyes away from the street and to Logan who offers you his usual smirk when you look at him. “Get me your old man’s box, will ya?” He requests.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmur before turning and walking back towards the house to get your dad’s toolbox. And are you being paranoid or is he definitely watching you walk away?

You eventually come back with your dad’s toolbox in hand. Logan turns to you when he hears your footsteps despite them being damn near silent. He’s always so astute and aware. It scares you and somehow turns you on at the same time.

“Atta boy,” Logan says as he takes the box from you and holds it like it weighs nothing more than a bottle of water. “Thanks, kid.”

Atta boy. Gosh, what would you give to hear him say that again. “Yeah, no problem,” you respond. You can’t help but watch him for a few minutes before turning and walking back towards the house. Your father would definitely force you to stay and watch Logan so you could “actually do something right.” But thankfully and also unfortunately, he isn’t there and Logan could care less.

And for the next 45 minutes, you spend your time inside trying to distract yourself from the man outside. The man you were home alone with. You leave the door ajar just in case he needs anything which of course he doesn’t. He’s just that good, right?

You lean against your kitchen counter, feeding your cat, James, a blonde cat who is somehow more accident prone than you are, blueberries. Your mind is practically running on autopilot out of boredom. But you’re acutely aware of the sound of the front door opening and shutting. As well as the heavy footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

Logan turns the corner, his flannel gone, leaving him in just a tanktop and jeans. A tanktop that practically put all of him on display. The muscles and veins in his arms, the firmness of his chest. Specifically that vein on his right biceps that runs all the way down to his forearm.

There’s a few oil marks staining his skin, on his neck and arms and chest. A little on his cheek. How the hell did he get that dirty? Hell, not like you’d know. You hardly touch the inside of that motorcycle, willingly.

His dog tags hanging perfectly in between his pecs. How you would love to trade places with those things right now. “S’all done, Bub,” Logan tells you as he steps further into the kitchen.

“Right, yeah, thanks,” you say, reluctantly stopping your ogling to grab him a water from the fridge. Logan flicks his hands as he finishes washing them and takes the water from you. He leans against the counter across from you.

“How’s college treatin’ ya?” He inquires, watching as you feed James another piece of fruit.

“It’s okay, nothing special. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice school but it’s not like it’s Ivy League or anything,” you answer in a small shrug as you pop a blueberry into your own mouth. Logan can’t help but watch your lips and throat as you do so. His eyes shamelessly trained on you.

“Well atleast you got somethin’ going for ya,” Logan murmurs, finally looking away as he folds his arms over his chest. “Got a boyfriend waiting there too?” He asks. You give him a look. He chuckles. “Or a girlfriend.” Logan adds.

You just roll your eyes which contrasts the smile on your face. “Answers no to both,” you answer, watching James pluck the blueberry from your fingers. And Logan feels a little too happy to see that little smile on your face again.

“Really?” Logan replies, raising a brow in response. “Those little college kids to stupid to see what’s in front of em’ or something?”

You look over to him and see his little eyebrow raise, a quiet snort leaving you. “I don’t know. I just don’t talk to people like that. Hard to be seen when you’re acting invisible, y’know?” You say nonchalantly.

“Gotta put yourself out there one day, Bub,” Logan sighs. “Can’t keep comin’ back to this place and just hoping for it.” You watch him as he speaks and you can’t help the way your eyes repeatedly drop down to the soot on his muscles. You gotta get those stains off before you go nuts.

“It’s more of a choice than anything,” you tell him as you turn and grab a clean rag from one of the lower cabinets. Logan’s sharp eyes follow you as you move around the kitchen. “People there just don’t really “impress” me.” You add as you wet the rag with warm water.

“Oh, boys there ain’t good enough for you, huh?” Logan questions teasingly, that grin returning to his face. You step in front of him and hold out the damp rag to him. Logan silently gestures to his skin in response.

You swallow and suddenly, your heart is beating a million beats a minute. Your eyes fall from his to his chest and neck as you slowly reach the rag to his skin. “Nah,” you finally answer lowly as you begin to gently scrub at his skin. “All the way in university and still ain’t mature enough.” You mutter, watching the oil stains fade away under the rag.

Logan’s eyes are low as he looks down at you, his eyes trained on your face and lips as you speak and wipe him down. “Oh right, not mature enough f’ya,” Logan murmurs. “Need an older guy to take care of you… don’t ya?”

Your hand pauses on his chest and your eyes move back up to his. A swirl of desire and need mixing in his dark eyes. His gaze alone almost makes you shutter. “Yeah… think I do,” I say in a slightly hoarse whisper.

Not knowing what else to do, you let out a barely there breath and raise the rag, going to swipe at some of the stains on his cheeks. Your heart almost stops in your chest when he grabs your wrist instead. His other hand comes up to grab your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

“And what would your old man think about that, huh?” Logan questions lowly, his breath fanning your lips. You part your lips to answer but your words get caught in Logan’s rough lips. Your whole body tenses up for a moment before immediately melting into him.

You let him hold you, you let him push you back into the other counter behind you. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of his earlier cigar still lingering. But it only serves to make you weaker. You groan into his mouth as his large hand suddenly slips from your wrist to your crotch, squeezing you through your sweatpants.

“School got you all pent up, yeah?” Logan asks in a huff of a breath as he just barely pulls away from your lips. Once again, he steals your lips before you can answer. Palming you through your sweatpants while his tongue explores every inch of your mouth.

He’s not wrong. It’s been just you and your hand for months now. And somehow Logan just barely touching you through your sweats is better than any night of you fucking your fist.

You can’t help but whine into his mouth when he pulls away, his hand running over your hips and waist instead. But the feeling of him pressing himself against you in his jeans quickly silences your whines. His half-erect cock grinding against your as he rolls his hips. Logan pulls back in a low groan, a thin shiny string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips.

“Been thinking ‘bout you since winter, Bub. Y’know that? Pretty ass been on my mind for fucking months,” Logan says to you in a heavy breath as he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip. You just look up at him, still in slight shock at it all but your mind falling prey to the pleasure and want.

“What? You wanna do something about that?” You question quietly, your voice not matching your smug and suggestive words.

Logan smirks down at you a bit. “Damn right,” he answers, his hand on your chin shifting to your hair as he grabs a fistful of it and tilts your head to the side. His hips rolling against your again as he sinks his teeth into neck. His name falling from your lips in a whimper.

Your hand subconsciously falls to his belt, weakly trying to still his hips against yours which of course doesn’t work. Logan pulls his teeth from your neck while simultaneously guiding your hand down from his belt to the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Feel that, pretty boy? Feel what you’re doing t’me?” Logan mutters against your bruising skin. And you do feel him. A lot of him. It made you lose your breath further while shooting sparks of further arousal to your gut. “Wanna help me out, Bub? Little favor for changin’ your oil?” He requests as he sucks at your flesh, hungrily and greedily.

You move almost immediately to your knees. Breath shaking as he backs up just a bit to look down at you. A devilish grin covering his face. “Well, aren’t you just an obedient little thing,” he comments as one of his hands finds his belt, the other still in your hair.

Your heart pounding in your ears as you watch his belt unbuckle, as he unbuttons his jeans and zips them down. Your mouth damn-near watering as he tugs down his pants and boxers just enough for his dick to spring free. And oh, your jaw is going to be aching for hours.

“Look at you, all cock-thirsty. Nobody been givin’ you any attention, huh?” Logan says as he pumps himself a few times, gently guiding your head to his already leaking tip. He doesn’t have to ask before you part your lips. Maybe it was a little pathetic how quickly you dropped for him. But you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You let him sit himself on your tongue and he just basks in the view. A bit of his pre dripping onto the pink muscle. That sight alone pushed him further, pushing his hips forward until he was almost buried in your throat to the hilt. “Damn, pretty boy, you done this before or something?” Logan groans before he’s moving.

His hand in your hair keeping your head still as he begins fucking your throat. You try to keep the tears from glossing up in your eyes as he hits the back of your throat but you can’t. He doesn’t mind.

“Fuck, how has nobody claimed this perfect throat yet? Taking me so fucking well,” Logan grunts, staring right down into your glossy eyes. You let out a choked whimper around him in reply, the vibrations of the sound going straight to Logan’s cock, making his eyes fall shut as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Right, can’t answer with your mouth full of dick, can you?”

Another muffled whimper which results in him tugging on your hair. “Guess your old man was wrong, huh?” Logan pants over the sound of his balls lewdly hitting your chin, a mix of his pre and your own drool slicking the skin. “You did learn to do somethin’ useful. Damn good cock-sucker.”

Your hands hold onto his thighs as he repeatedly stuffs your face to the hilt, his fat tip kissing the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his skin through his jeans only for his eyes to roll in response. A hoarse and gruff “oh fuck” slipping through his teeth. “Been doing this for those college boys? That how you brought your little grade back up?” Logan questions roughly as he looks down to you.

Such a pretty sight you are. Eyes watering, lashes glistening, mouth full, and your lips a wet mess of your fluids.

“Mmm,” your denial doesn’t leave as words, just muffled choked sounds. A small smirk grows on Logan’s face.

“No? Ain’t that a shocker. You’d— shit— you’d make some good fucking money. Sucking cock for cash, clearly doesn't take much to get you to anyways,” Logan says, almost taunting you with his words. Taunting how fast you got on your knees for him.

You can only respond by pressing your tongue flaccid against his cock, feeling his veins pulse over the muscle. Only for him to tug on your hair when you swirl your tongue over his tip. “Fine by me,” Logan says, his voice breaking into a breathy moan. “Pretty little throat is all mine.”

You feel your own hard-on twitch in your pants at that. The idea of being all his. Even if it’s just for the summers and winters. Logan doesn’t miss the way you take him in more greedily, the way you keep letting him glide across your tongue, the way your breathing just barely steadies when you finally find a rhythm.

“Yeah? You like that idea, Bub? Being all mine?” Logan says strained, the snap of his hips growing sloppy and stuttering. All you can do is let out a muffled groan around him, staring up at him with your big eyes as the tears finally slip over. They only worsen their streams as Logan pushes your head down, giving you hardly any room to breathe as his cock twitches and he cums down your throat.

He doesn’t let you go until you’re digging your nails into his thighs again and he finally lets go of your hair. You pull away and practically gasp for the breath you lost. Coughing and heaving and sniffling as dribbles of his release rolling down your chin, followed by your tears.

“You okay down there, Bub? Too much?” Logan asks as he chases his own breath.

“No, no, i—i'm okay,” you manage to get out as you wipe at the tears and your slick chin. Logan’s low eyes drop to the tent in your sweatpants between your legs. His eyes then pull back up to yours.

“What time does your old man get off?”

[hwan-g]

( 𝑻𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑯 ) ୧ ⠁

ೀㅤ۪ pairing. biker/drug dealer! chris x fem! reader : genre. age gap, dark romance, angst, smut : warnings. read at your own risk — mdni ! use of pet names, smoking, explicit sexual content, possessiveness, obsession, severe anger issues, violence, flawed characters that make mistakes : word count. 10.1k

ೀㅤ۪ synopsis. he was born with a gun in his hand, a ticking time bomb in his head. it’s been counting down since, the brain has festered into a landmine, a battlefield. no. peace is a foreign word. reserved only for you.

PROLOGUE.

You cannot begin telling this story if you don’t first punch your own mouth. His gun, safety off, shiny and awful in the dead of night, the barrel of it pointing at your temple, a patient irony. It’s three in the morning and the red bleeding is sweet, oh so sweet.

There’s no love without violence, sweetheart, and did you know? He loves you so much, he’ll kill you. He loves you so much, you’re calling for help. Of course, it cannot be your voice, and if he gives you another chance, you’ll say everything differently this time around like—this bed is where he fucked me slow and rough, I think he was trying to bury some part of himself in me, and here, you see, the sheets smell just like his cigarettes, and this, here, is where he brushed my hair, just like this, so careful, but never mind the cracks in the mirror, the shattering is always the same, it has nothing to do with me, everything to do with him.

You hear his voice in your head all the time, haunting, your dutiful ghost; he’s there when you sleep, he’s there when you wake up, a nightmare concealed as a daydream, and you want him to do his worst, you want it to hurt, to scar, to be a permanent mark, because it’d mean you’d loved him; that love has been here and it was ugly and terrifying, and you survived it, even if you could never survive him.

Upstairs, the bed is unmade, stained with wine and your climax. Chris is gentle in all the ways he is not, which is to say he kisses you with teeth, he holds you with fists. You saw him on a black motorcycle once, an impressionable girl in a dark place, lost, searching for purpose, and he looked like a knight in shining armor, he looked like hell and heaven combined, a savior and captor, and you’d wished to crawl inside, to make a home out of him. You’d smiled and waited, you've always waited, you always will.

When he came, he was so cruel, he burned brighter than fire—you believed in him; after all, how can a man be so consumed by flame and not put his own hands around his neck, not succumb to his charcoal painted flesh? You were a fool, and he saw it, and you paid the price for it. He wants to keep you forever now, he’s never going to let you go, do you understand that? Why, why, why did you go ahead and do that?

For what? A scrap of metal heart and a ribcage, bone and muscle?

What about your own heart?

What about the eternal winter residing when he's not there?

ACT ONE: before.

He smiles and the world expands. His face blooms into a thousand different shades; the pink of his mouth curving, the red of his cheeks rounding, the dark of his brow straightening. A stop motion picture, the beginning of autumn, the turn of the leaves, the crisp air replacing warm winds.

His fingers weave through yours, interlocking, thumb running down index, mouth a breath over yours, so close he could graze your lips if he wanted to. You look between you, noses touching, then back to brown so deep you imagine raw honey gliding, real amber in the face of the sun.

Chris. You whisper his name in your head. It sounds like a secret. Your best kept one. Chris, Chris, Chris . . .

There’s blood on his shirt underneath the leather jacket. There’s a loaded gun on his belt strap, a knife tucked in his boot, a razor engraved on the ring he wears, and he’s not so careful with it, and you don’t think you want him to be. You assume it’s normal to want this—if his blood mixes with yours, well, isn’t that enough to take you with him? Isn’t that almost a wedding ceremony, isn’t that almost a declaration of war?

Do you think I’m crazy, you think to yourself. Do you think I’m crazy, would you want me if I am, would you want me, do you want me? You don’t dare say it out loud, but he’s staring at you as if he could eat your face raw—a demon, a demon—and shove the rest of you in the deep freezer, so you decide to bite him instead. You get on your tippy toes and nuzzle into his neck, biting the soft flesh underneath his earlobe.

He doesn’t exclaim, not a hiss, not a gasp, not even the slightest of inhales. He withstands the pain you inflict him, and you feel his desire digging into the inside of your thigh. His arms reach out around you, pulling you to him in that all-encompassing way, and you’re left to witness what can only be the slow consumption of your beating heart. His bike groans under the sudden weight, but he’s got you. You don’t think, then, of what that entails.

“(Y/N).”

The night sky comes into focus, all dark indigo, starless, and the streetlights flicker bright, sounding the late hour. The light never seems to go anywhere near you two, it refuses, it hesitates, and back then you found it all so mysterious and exciting, ignoring the warning bells, swallowing down the instinct of danger, danger, danger.

“Yes?”

Your eyes fall shut at having his rough palm grabbing hold of your face, thumb tilting your head upwards to meet his sizzling gaze. You hold onto his wrist for support, your body floating, mourning the loss of his body heat against the biting cold. He notices this, and moves to shrug off his huge jacket, wearing it over your shoulders in one swift move.

“What will I do with you?” It’s a plea. A threat. Both.

Chris looks down at you, and the earth shakes to its core. He looks down at you, and you don’t want to be alone anymore. You want this, this, this, every day, all the time, forever. You wish to wake up in bed next to him and know he’s yours, wake up and not wish for some other dream so you can find him again. To be awake and want to be awake.

His big hands caress your face, sink into your hair. He stares at you intently, as if he’s holding back from saying whatever’s turning over and over in his head. It can switch so fast, that look, faster than you can blink, a clipped temper, a quick anger. 

You’ve only seen it once, and you’d been quickly turned away. He’s got people watching everywhere, he’s been haunted by darkness and shadows long before you served him that drink in The Bloody Muse. You almost forget about returning to your shift, time slipping away, responsibilities fading whenever you’re near him.

Seungmin will be missing you, Felix will be looking for his good luck charm before he goes on stage. Midnight means you return from dreamland. Still, you have a couple of minutes left. Enough to hear the gunshot, enough to panic and let out a scream and have Chris slap a hand over your mouth, willing you with his gaze to calm the fuck down.

You breathe hard, stiff with fear. He appears perfectly composed, relaxed even. It’s then you realize who he is and what he does, and how this is probably his or his club’s doing. There’s misdirected anger in you ricocheting on all corners. You want to bite his fingers, you want to demand an explanation. You work here, dammit, and he’s kept his bullets away from this place so far, for what you thought was your sake.

Chris was a handsome hypocrite, a skilled liar.

“It’s not what you think,” he says simply, removing his palm from your mouth, shaking his wrist off. “Don’t overreact.”

All of his previous warmth disappeared, instead, the cold, menacing man you know very little of and have never dealt with taking its place. You understand he has to be this way, but you hate that he has to act like this with you too. Because of your reaction. Because you couldn’t keep your cool.

Silly girl.

“What is it, then?” A naive question, so many untrue answers he could give you.

He passes a finger over the cut on your cheek. The cut he gave you. You lean into his touch, desperate for anything, hungry, starving, even. You don’t want him to leave, but he won’t stay. You hate, hate, fucking hate this part.

“Something that needed to be taken care of,” he chooses the words carefully, you can tell, and you decide that, if he wants you to stay in the dark, you will. You have to.

You love him.

“Someone,” you correct, quietly.

Chris smiles, mouth curving, and his hand moves to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is tender, affectionate. Something inside you cracks and caves, it melts. You would withstand too, you think then. You would deal with anything, put up with everything, for that single touch. For that one single look.

“Someone,” he echoes, his own voice smooth blue velvet, an overture. “You should get inside.”

A sharp pang of bitterness in your chest. “I should?” Because I questioned you?

He drops his hand, and brings his arms over his broad chest, crossing them there. Closed off and done for the night. You unconsciously take a step back, hurt from the sudden change, whiplashed and upset.

“If you don’t want to be late,” he states matter-of-factly, but he says it in this kind of open tone, a mere suggestion rather than a complete dismissal. Yes. “Don’t look at me with those damned eyes, sweetheart, what can I do against them?”

You wipe at your cheeks, and try to fix the mess, try to smooth over, to make right again. “I’m not, I’m sorry.”

“Come here.” A command. 

You go like a kicked puppy, your leash short, your loyalty unshaken, despite the scolding. He reaches out and slams you to his chest, a hand pressing the back of your head there, and you inhale him, all of him, memorizing his scent, trying to hold on to whatever parts of him you can in case he decides to never come back for you again. It’s pathetic and it’s pitiful, but this is what you know. This is all you know.

“You’re my girl, you know that?” He mumbles in your hair, his breath hot on your scalp. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around him, and almost cry yourself dry from the prospect of ever losing him. 

You’d die. You’d die, it’s entirely unthinkable. It’s the worst pain imaginable. 

“You’re my girl, baby. I’d never let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?”

You nod your head yes. He squeezes you against him tighter. You feel so safe, then, the safest you ever have. Of course you believe him. You’d believe his every word, you’d follow him into anything, blindly, willingly. You want to please him. To make him happy.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, suddenly and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are manic, black. “I need your words, (Y/N). Do you believe me?”

“Yes. Yes,” you yelp, your mouth falling open from the sting.

In your stomach, something lights on fire. You rub your legs together, trying to relieve it. He glances down between you, curses. 

You started it. 

The descend. 

It was your fault. 

He’d never touched you so savagely before that night, he’d never shown the same need you had. That he could want you the same way you do. . .You felt so giddy you could squeal, so happy you would gladly reduce yourself to schoolgirl-and-her-stupid-little-fantasies.

“Is this fucking getting you wet?” And he pulls harder, tilting your head all the way. His tongue comes out to lick from the base of your neck all the way up to your lips. You’re on fire, you’re on fire! You moan hoarsely and try to keep your footing. “You like me being rough with you, sweetheart?”

You’re too embarrassed to respond. So, you guide his hand under your skirt. Chris curses again, more lewdly this time, nasty things, words you’ve never heard him say before. Oh, this fucking cunt, fuck me . . . So goddamn wet, baby girl, I bet it tastes so sweet. Will you let me? Will you let me have a taste right here?

“I— I have to go back, I’m—” but his fingers are already dipping into your underwear, his palm cupping your burning sex.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls into your ear. “You hear me?”

You jump, and look around, paranoid. He grabs your face and forces your eyes back on him. He’s got that crazed look again, the one that lets you know he’ll stop at nothing to have this. Out here, in the open. And he’ll fucking make it worth it. You succumb, too flushed, too bothered, unbecoming in his arms, as he backtracks you into the wall next to the exit door, and gets on his knees, tugging your undergarments down with both hands, hooking your leg over his shoulder.

Your fingers dig into his hair, dark eyes staring up at you. In your mercy, kneeling in front of you. Do you love me? Is this you, saying it? Is this your way of showing it? You caress the soft strands, staring back, overwhelmed. The beginning of the end for you. You’ll never escape him after this. He’d never accept it. You’d never survive it.

When his face gets lost in between your legs, you almost collapse, your entire body shaking with the forceful need to come. He licks and laps and sucks your clit into his mouth, and it’s too much, it’s fucking unbearable, it’s incredible, it’s so much, it’s everything, you want more, you want him to stop, more more more, oh my God, please, please—you’re being so loud there’s no way they haven’t heard that, that Seungmin hasn’t, he’s really only around the corner, and what about everyone else, oh God, oh God, you’re close, you’re so fucking close, if he could just—oh, fuck yes, fuck yes . . .

Chris pulls away, his lower face glistening with your juices. You whine at the loss of contact, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching. 

“Don’t fucking come,” and he’s getting up, he’s unzipping his pants, and you’re eager to help, you’re eager to reach inside and grab him, free him. “I have to get inside you, baby.” 

His cock is standing rock hard, angry. He wraps one hand around your neck, and the other slides over his length once, twice, you’re so entranced you can’t look away; he’s so big, he’s so erect, and you want him so fucking much, you’d do anything right then, you’d be anything.

He turns you around, and you barely have time to get a good grip on the wall, before he’s entering you with one long, violent thrust. You scream out, pressing your temple on the cool brick, allowing him to take whatever he needs. His fingers squeeze around your neck, tighter and tighter still, until all you see is stars, until all you feel is him slamming into you, his hot body over yours, your mixed moans of pleasure.

I could come to this image forever . . . Look at this fucking ass, you beautiful fucking girl, I never want to stop . . . fucking tear you apart, lay inside you . . . Taking cock so well, made for me, made for me, made for this . . .

His movements turned sloppy and primal, reaching the end, and you, forever following him, forever after him. He was no more than beast, pistoling into you with vigor, all animal, your sides bruised from the way he was holding onto you, but you loved it, you wished he’d never stop, exploding into a million pieces, coming apart under him in vibrant streaks of color and tears. His head dropped on your lower back, whispering there she is, there you go, sweetheart, there you are, my baby, as he gave one, two, three final thrusts, before reaching down and removing himself from your soaking cunt, flipping you around, and forcing you on your knees, his cock in his hand, on the verge of climax.

You open your mouth wide, and he shoves in, fucking into it no more than three seconds before you feel his cum hit the back of your throat, warm and salty. 

“You fucking vex me, woman. Look at the sight of you.”

You breathe through your nose slowly, as he grabs your face and makes sure you swallow, fingers rough, before pulling out at once, tucking his softening length back in his jeans, and lifting you up by the waist.

He fixes your skirt over your ass, and smoothes over the edges, making sure no indecent part of you shows. When you catch his eye, he winks at you. You bubble over like a soda can, spilling everywhere, and he chuckles low and raspy, before reaching for your hand and pulling you flush against him, trailing kisses on your shoulder, your knuckles, your cheeks, your brow.

This is the Chris that looks at you and sees you. The one you love, the one you miss the most when he’s gone. This Chris comes out only when you’re alone, when he’s forgotten what else there is, what he has to do after you go back to the club. For now, he loves you, no violence, no hunger.

You almost weep at the sight of him.

“I’ll talk to your boss,” he murmurs, pecking your lips over and over.

You giggle, and he twirls you once, your arms extending as you try to go towards the door. He pulls you back in at the last minute, handsome, glowing, smiling.

“I haven’t lied to you,” he says, and half of you doesn’t miss the solemn way in which he says it. “I won’t let anyone touch you. Ever.”

You pause for a split second, still remaining in the post bliss of your orgasm, but then you’re moving again, slipping from his grasp, heading back to your drinks and suggestive conversations.

“I wouldn’t want to be touched by anyone else, Chris,” you retort, blowing him a kiss, and disappearing through the big black door, letting it close behind you.

You don’t see the way you leave him standing there, how he closes his eyes and has to breathe through the loss of you; how he drags his feet to go pick up his jacket from the floor. How he inhales your sweet smell, and instantly wants you back, a corpse in his arms that can’t go nowhere.

The corruption began when you told him your name. It invaded his bloodstream and blackened his mind.

He’d rather kill you than have you walk away from him like that.

ACT TWO: in the midst.

Chris fucks you with the purpose of possessing you.

There’s not a minute of peace when you are with him, he envelops all senses, he erases all other thoughts, until all you know is him, his touch, his cock. Months into sharing a bedroom, and coming apart underneath him every night, he’s never once mentioned that incident, the first one.

He’s never apologized for how he treated you, never brought it up. But he’s never once treated you the same since. Now that you live together, he gets to call all the shots, know your exact whereabouts, control what you wear, what you eat, how you come, how many times—he’s fucked you in places you never thought possible. He’s fucked you in front of people, shamelessly; on the banister, in the pool, on the kitchen counter and the office. Against walls and on the hood of his car, parked in the garage, Changbin, the road captain, working on his bike not a few steps away.

No one ever said anything to you, tried anything. They didn’t have a death wish, or they respected Chris too much. His influence was a testimony to his abilities. No one questioned him, but everyone obeyed him. They treated you like one of their own, they protected you when their sergeant would leave the house.

Other things—the shitload of drugs hidden in every trinket, every crevice, places you’d never think to check, and the meticulous way they deliver said product, how the trucks come in the middle of night, motorcycles deconstructed, filled to the brim with cocaine and sent to wherever, distributed to whatever unfortunate person. Chris never touched the trucks, you never saw him near them.

That was Minho’s job.

You spent entire days in bed after the deliveries, fucking, improvising stories of hunters and angels falling in love, how the hunter is always attracted to the angel’s light, how the angel forgives the hunter for his nature, and willingly dies by his axe. Chris bathes you and washes your hair with lavender, then carries you over to the vanity and brushes the strands with such care, you think he’s always loved you, in every life. That, perhaps, he was born loving you, and that this was predetermined; inescapable, inevitable.

He doesn’t sleep. He spends hours making love to you, feeding you; he works for even longer, meetings with the president, meetings with the suppliers, mountains of paperwork that you see him burn afterwards in the fireplace downstairs. If he does close his eyes, it’s flitting, twenty minutes here, an hour there; after he comes down from the high of being buried inside you, after a shower, at night as he watches you sleep, you pretend to close your eyes and feel him get comfortable on your stomach, his lips kissing any spot of naked skin he can find. When he does drift off, you lift your head and observe a man such as Chris Bahng sleep, how he does it, so unaware and off guard, so unlike his usual self.

It’s endearing. You love him the most when you find him in those positions, so peaceful, and a part of you thinks, ashamed—at least no one is dying by his hand tonight. His soul is something you think about a lot, the wretched, poisoned thing, paying for his actions. You asked him once; what keeps him up, why is he so unable to fall asleep?

“Nightmares,” he mumbled against your neck, teasing the sensitive flesh there. “Every time I close my eyes . . . someone is waiting for me. It’s always different, but they always end up dead. Everyone I care about— you. When you’re in my dreams, I can’t stand it. I’m always the one holding the gun. You’re always falling, or— fucking . . . walking away from me. When I wake up, I always check if you’re next to me,” his hand travels to yours, interlocking your fingers. He avoids your gaze. “If you’re not, it’s . . . it gets hard to breathe. I think I’ve killed you, that I’ve finally fucking lost it and, and done it, and the walls close in around me . . . Christ, I sound fucking insane.”

It’s difficult for you to say anything after that, so you slowly make your descend at the foot of the bed, making sure to kiss every inch of him, to let him know you’re right there, that he’ll never lose you, that the day it’ll come to that you’d rather he does kill you, that he does make that decision for you, because you’d have clearly gone mad; you cannot see yourself beyond him, cannot see a future where he’s not there, even as a fixture, even as someone who’s loved you once, a very long time ago. A friend, a lover, it’s all the same, and it’s all him, and you’ll always get whatever version of him you can.

You know you sound crazy, and maybe you are, maybe you deserve each other in that way, but it’s irrelevant to this story. This is not for the faint of heart—loving someone like him does not come easy, it’s not one of those ridiculous words—fate or destiny—or anything simple like that; loving him is hard fucking work, it’s torment and agony, it’s excruciating, and it’s a choice you make every single day, because you need it to live. An addiction, perhaps, though you’ve never been an addict.

You know this is how it feels. The needle in the vein. The snow on your nose. The smoke in your lungs. The burning, the boiling. This is it. When you take his cock in your mouth, when you hear that broken gasp fall from his lips, the familiar groan, the guttural sounds from the back of his throat, and how he grabs the back of your head, forcing you down to the hilt of him; when you’re so full you might as well inhale him entirely, become part of his crotch, his most private part, the one he keeps to himself—you think this is what it’s like to wait on someone’s steps, a beggar, a desperate girl giving her heart on a silver platter for the one in the house, the one holding the reins.

Chris is kind and generous. He opens the door, he allows you to come inside. There’s light and warmth here, but there’s also shadows in the corners, there’s locked doors and no one else around. It’s a lonely house, but he’s right there, all you need, all you’ll ever need. He welcomes you with open arms.

You get lost in the labyrinth of him.

“What the fuck was I doing before you, sweetheart? Who was I, who was I without this fucking mouth, fucking hell, baby . . .”

It’s a savage act, some would call it cannibalism, but it’s only been known as love to you. Your insides are aflame, roasting a pretty crackling orange, when he finally comes on your tongue, his hips lifting, eyes shut tight, your head in his big hands, keeping you there, making sure you’re swallowing every last drop. You do. You do. You‘re licking circles around the shiny, swollen tip one moment, and he’s got you bouncing on it the next, manhandling your ass, facing you away from him, wrapping muscular arms around your waist, ravaging your back with his teeth, biting and soothing, putting out the forest fires himself, braving the danger.

A devouring hunger. Stripped to its most primal state. Everything within you is jumping. No one talks about this—screwing for the sake of the flesh. You need to come, and keep coming, and he does too. There’s no other thought, no other reason. He’d mount you if he could, knot in you for hours, pump you full of his seed. If this is the way it’s meant to be, then let it be. Let him fuck you until he’s satiated. Let him fuck you into your last dying breath.

But his words. You want those for yourself. He whispers them in your ears, his mouth everywhere, the hotness of his breath, the raspiness of his voice—just as lost as you. This is how you need him.

“This cunt is mine, fucking mine, mine . . . Say it,” he drills into you, skin slapping on skin, sweat like water, and your tears, so uncontrollable, so many— “Say it, damn you.”

“Yours,” you comply, your arm reaching out to wrap around his neck. He kisses your shoulder, he bites, he marks. “All of me. Forever.”

“Swear it. Don’t ever leave me.”

“No . . . no . . .” You moan loudly as he reaches deep inside, to spots that make you see stars.

He shoves your face in the mattress, and gets on top of you, pistoling his length into you, hard and fast, chasing after the high he craves. You cry out and take it. The pain is so intense, bleeding into pleasure, overwhelming your body. You can’t feel your own heartbeat anymore, only Chris, only his pounding.

“Such a goddamn slut. Look at you,” he slaps your ass once, “fucking look at you,” twice, three times, four. You sob into the sheets, grab onto them. He’s relentless, he’s so close, you’re so close— “Why are you crying, huh?” He pulls you by the hair hard, lifting your head. You gulp down air, you’re glutinous, deprived. “Did you need my cock that bad? Have I not fucked your needy little hole enough?”

“You have, you have, please . . .”

Let go for me, sweetheart, fuck, you feel so fucking good . . . Never get tired of this pussy, taking me so well, baby, so fucking well, come on, one more, one more, that’s it . . .

Coming felt like the gates of heaven liquifying inside you. Your orgasm tore through you so savagely, you forgot how to breathe for several moments, your limbs unresponsive and extremely sore. Only thing you could do was convulse under Chris’ massive body, and let him ride his own, his nails digging into raw flesh, voice groggy and incredibly deep after three rounds of sex.

“Did I hurt you? Did I hurt you, baby?”

You hadn’t realized you were still crying ugly, terrible sobs. You immediately missed the weight of him as he got off you at once and flipped you on your back, panic-stricken honey eyes searching your face, your chest, any part of you he might’ve harmed.

“Where does it hurt? What have I done?” He kisses your temple, your eyes, he tastes your tears. He’s so worried you almost feel guilty for not responding. “(Y/N), I need you to tell me, sweetheart, I can’t see it, I can’t—is it your—”

“I’m fine,” you pacify him, placing your hands on either side of his face. You’re still breathing abnormally fast, but so is he. The room is spinning. “You didn’t hurt me anywhere, I’m fine, Chris.”

“But if you were, you’d tell me, yeah?”

He was so handsome, so handsome when he loved you.

“I would.”

His gaze was piercing, honeycomb giving way to molasses. His hands were trailing off again, doing their own thing, what they knew best; how to please you. His thumb on your clit, rubbing soft circles, your creamy entrance making lewd sounds that had the man over you growing impossibly hard again.

“And what about this?” A warm, tingly sensation grew low in your belly. “Does this hurt?”

You trap his hand with your thighs, and he smiles. You smile back.

“Maybe a little,” you lie, stretching.

He doesn’t let up. His fingers slip inside again, his other hand moving on himself, veiny and sure. Chris masturbating to the sight of getting you off is perhaps the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Your body is a tool he’s acquainted well with, and has made his sole expertise. So many hours on this bed, learning each other naked.

“Your cunt says something else,” he smirks, pumping his fist over his girth slowly, deliberately, growling low in the process, making you wetter, making you want, want, want. A chain of chemical reactions, you’ve become. “I wanna eat you out, (Y/N), you think you’ll be able to handle that?”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he mumbles on your stomach, placing a kiss there, and traveling down, nose dangerously close to where you want him most. “Your face when you come apart on my tongue—I wish I could die between your legs, baby.”

“Don’t say that,” you hide your face in embarrassment, as you feel him get in position, opening your legs wide, staring shamelessly at your swollen pussy.

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want,” he licks it once, tongue pressing flat on your clit and flicking, and you’re fucking gone. You’re writhing, trying to get away, moaning so loudly the whole house must’ve heard you. “This is mine, you’re fucking mine, and you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

He doesn’t get to work much on you, you’re coming apart in minutes. You’re so overstimulated, your legs are shaking uncontrollably, the muscles twitching. He doesn’t seem to care though, because he’s fingering all of your cream on his cock and finishing himself off, an ungodly sight, something out of a renaissance painting, the most explicit one, all well defined abs and veins popping on his neck, mouth formed into a perfect silent scream, as he pumps, and pumps and shoots on your thighs, white thick streaks, hot and sticky.

There’s a knock on the door, a throat clearing.

“Bahng,” Changbin’s voice. “It’s important.”

The room drops in the negatives. You see the abrupt change on your boyfriend’s face, his expression freezing over, his jaw clenching, moving, as he stares at the door like he wants to break it, and then beat his friend’s face in. You get on your elbows and whisper softly, “It’s okay,” to which he ignores.

“What the fuck do you want?” He calls out, furious, getting off the bed and grabbing a pair of discarded jeans from the floor.

“Meeting in ten,” his captain replies, and then there’s footsteps shuffling away.

“I need to shower, anyway,” you try to lighten the mood, reaching over the bed for your shirt. “We’ve been holed up here for hours. I don’t even know what time it is.”

“Why do you need to know?”

You don’t let his tone ruin what you’ve been building for the entire day. He was perfectly fine up until two seconds ago, it has nothing to do with you. You repeat this to yourself as you move around the room, clipping the hair away from your face, wiping the makeup from your cheeks.

“It’s really alright, Chris, you’ll only be gone for a bit.”

He ignores this as well. What he does—he takes two big strides towards you and grabs your face roughly. You meet his eyes, dark and menacing, and keep your cool. You don’t let his anger scare you, you’ve seen it all before. It has nothing to do with you, it has nothing to do with you.

“All you need to know, is I’m still in this fucking room and you smell like my cum, and there’s a lot of fucking things I can do in ten minutes,” he snarls, patting your hair down, bringing your hips together. “All you need to know is you have no use for clocks, because you’re not going anywhere. Am I fucking clear?”

You try not to let your body take over your mind, as it’s happened many times before. He knows your weak spot, he knows how good he can make it feel, and he uses it to his advantage any chance he gets. 

You will not be manipulated. You will stop falling for his words.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” you retorted, suddenly sad. “You’re only being like this because you want to stay.”

To that, he visibly calms, he mellows. “Of course I do. I never wanna be anywhere else. I wanna fuck you until you’re on the verge of passing out, and then I want to take you in the water and make it all better,” he tries to kiss you but you turn your head. There are no words to describe the hurt etched on his face, then. “You’re the only thing that matters, (Y/N). The only true thing.”

“Why do you treat me like this, Chris? Hot, then cold, again and again.”

You might’ve as well slapped him. He untangles himself from you at once, and walks over to the closet for a shirt. Your stomach drops. You definitely said something you shouldn’t have. Who knows how he’ll be now, what he might do. You might not see him for days. He knows how to hurt you and keep hurting you. One coin, two sides.

Nevertheless, you have to know. He never gives you any answers. You’ve given away so much to be here, to be with him. He walks the thin line of having something like that, a line between holding you—broken glass on his shaking palm, recklessly picking up the pieces when they fall, unafraid of the blood, of the cutting and maiming, and the repercussions afterwards.

His self destructiveness has never been more prominent before. Now it’s all you see.

“One true thing, Chris. Please.”

He looked so severe, the set of his jaw, the glint in his eye. When he punches the closet door closed and smashes the mirror with his fist, you don’t think he’s quite there in the room with you anymore. He’s in that faraway place again, in that hole, so hard to find.

Of course, the blood. The blood is always there. It’s been there from the start.

He motions for you not to move, his hair a mess sticking in all directions. Such violence and it’s all within him, there’s nothing you can do to pull it out of him. Only when it lashes out, only when he becomes the weapon.

“Don’t fucking come near me,” he barks, and you stop, you remain perfectly still, your gaze locked to his knuckles, bleeding profusely, staining the carpet. “I will never hurt you,” he rasps, and there’s iron will behind his words. “I will never fucking hurt you, I’d sooner die. I’d sooner fucking die . . .” His eyes fall closed, his breathing deepens, and you’re pretty sure you only have a few seconds before this all goes to shit.

You grab your clothes, and shoes, and where’s your phone, where’s your stupid phone—

“Get out of here. Get out of here now.”

You bite your lip until you taste copper. You won’t cry. You won’t fucking cry. This is not your fight. This is not your problem.

“I love you,” you squeeze out, before you throw the door open and spill down the stairs, the beast bellowing behind you, “GET THE FUCK OUT, GET THE FUCK OUT.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Changbin puts his hands out, grabs your shoulders. 

Felix doesn’t even have to look at you; he curses, and climbs the stairs three at a time, calling for backup. The demolition has already begun.

You won’t cry. You refuse, you refuse, you refuse.

There’s no love without violence, sweetheart, and did you know?

ACT THREE: intermission.

In a fight, he’s devastating.

You’d told him time and time again, none of it meant anything, not a thing, just some mindless flirting to get better tips, it was part of your job, it was silly, little, nothing, nothing at all. You’d warned him against coming inside the Muse. It’d only cause trouble.

He would only cause trouble. It’s why he had Minho permanently positioned in there, it’s how the club was under Strays payroll, it was his excuse for visiting that night.

Making sure the product was being distributed properly. Keeping an eye out. Bullshit. You were so mad at him. He never showed up for these things, they went through other people. Chris was too important for it. And yet, here he was, disrupting your workflow, beating your regulars into a pulp.

You didn’t recognize anything from the man he was the last time you saw him. He had none of the tenderness, none of the ember in his gaze, no softness; only sharp, obliterating cruelty and the gun on his strap. His fists were bloody, his anger palpable.

Your tables had emptied out, unpaid. You were so angry.

“Try it, motherfucker,” your boyfriend smashed the poor guy’s head against the hardwood floor, repeatedly, in succession, until your voice was scratched raw from shouting for someone to stop him. “Try getting near her again, let me see you. Walk a straight fucking line to my girl, see if you get to live another goddamn day.”

“I didn’t know she was your girl, man! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man had been reduced to tears, his face so beat up you could barely make out his features under all the blood.

Minho stood in one corner, observing passively, while Seungmin tried to keep his friend back, ever the security guard. Chris was gone, though. There was no way to bring him back. There’d be a death tonight, and all of you would have to pretend it never happened. You think about that. About the first time you lied for him. For them.

“Bet you wanted to fuck her, hm?” He pulls his head up, only to bring him to his knee, kicking his nose broken, and throwing him back on the floor, chairs wobbling and falling over in the storm of him. “That’s what you’ve been coming for, isn’t it, you sick fuck?”

The whimpering is what did it for you. “I didn’t know. Please! Please!” You couldn’t just stand aside; you couldn’t let this go on.

The stage was empty, the band long finished with their set, now sitting at the counter over at the bar, glancing curiously your way. It was infuriating how none of them wanted to get involved. It was too late for this. Too fucking late, and you were tired.

So, you walked over to where Chris was stomping on the man’s ribs, making sure you were in his line of vision. When you got as close as you could, you called out his name. Nothing. You tried again.

“Chris. Chris.”

“I’ll fucking kill him, baby, he’ll never look at you twice, he won’t be able to, I swear it to you.” In what dark, dark place have you crawled into, my love? How do I get there?

You try to keep your voice steady, reasonable. From the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin shaking his head at you, motioning you to step back, away, out from the line of fire. 

“I don’t want that, Chris. I want you to let him go.”

“What?”

“And then I want you to go home.”

In retrospect, you should’ve heeded the bouncer’s advice. This version of Chris does not belong to you, it has nothing to do with feeling or logical thought. It festered in some terror-stricken hole he’d found as a child, and grew into a large open wound, the heart tree of all inhumanity in him. You’d have to carve it out if you’re to ever save him. But to carve it . . . No. You couldn’t. Not you.

Two terrible things happened that night, things that you’d quicker forget than let yourself remember fully.

His calloused hand attacked your neck, wrapping around it with such brutal force, it knocked the air out of you. Immediately, four men jumped to your rescue, circling you like hounds, yelling at Chris, trying to snatch him away from you.

“Stand the fuck down,” he snarled at them, never taking his black eyes off you. “You think I’d actually fucking hurt her? She can take this, can’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod, willing yourself to breathe through your panic, to combine this touch with the one he uses when he makes you feel good, the pain only pleasurable, only flitting, almost enjoyable. He watches you do this, and something flashes in his expression, a recognition, a moment of clarity. It’s gone as soon as it arrives.

“Don’t ever tell me what the fuck to do, you understand? I’m doing this for you, so you can be safe,” he’s never raised his voice at you, and he’s not doing it now, either. You’d take the screaming over this eerie calmness, this polite rage.

This is the monster under your bed, the demon in your closet. You can’t do anything about this, you don’t even know what’s hiding there.

“I didn’t ask for that, Chris,” you manage to say, placing a hand over the one on your throat. No one speaks, no one moves.

“You’ve no fucking idea what’s good for you, do you?”

“Clearly,” you reply, calmly, bitterly.

You see him swallow, and fight with the shadows clouding his judgment. You see the split decision—and the way he shoves you away, the way he refuses to look at you any longer. 

“Have it your way,” he snaps. He’s still so beautiful to you, even like this, the way a severe thunderstorm is, the way gray clouds can cover an entire sunny day in minutes. Not despite, but in spite.  “But this fucker dies today.”

In a split second, your life—an infinite whirlwind, a dizzying dance with no end in sight—it changes, it shifts, because—Chris takes his gun out, a single click, and shoots the man on the floor beside you. All it takes. A blink of an eye. No one seems to get what happened, probably accustomed to the death looming over, but you—you’re covered in blood now, blood that’s not yours, and you’ve never seen someone die before. You don’t even think it registers in your mind, really. You just stare, and stare, and hope that he’ll get up and go to a hospital, because he looks terrible.

“Don’t feel too bad, princess,” Felix whispers somewhere from behind you. “He was a registered sex offender. Boss found out today. Chris had to do it.”

“Chris is not a hit man,” you say mechanically, paralyzed, something else looking through your eyes, inhabiting your body. 

Where are you? Where’d you go?

“No, he’s not,” he agrees. You faintly feel a hand on your shoulder. You don’t react. “But he’s the one that’ll always get the job done. No matter what.”

This is the second thing. Learning that your boyfriend might be more of a collection of ghosts than an actual person. That the blood sprayed on your legs could be anyone’s, could be yours. The thing is, you weren’t truly scared before, but you are now.

And the terrifying truth—you still love him. You love him, you love him, it beats as sure as your heart, it fills you with guilt and despair, because . . . you don’t even really care. You should, surely. This is a horrible situation. But Chris is standing a mere few feet away from you, and he wants nothing to do with you, not when he’s like this, and somehow that’s more severe, that’s—that’s the real tragedy.

“Take care of it,” he cracks his neck, addressing no one in particular. Any of these men would do anything for him, for the club. Honor and loyalty, above all. “Bring me the books. There’s still business.”

Minho and Seungmin get to work, while a third person goes in the back. You don’t know who, you don’t see them, your gaze hasn’t moved from Chris. You whisper his name again, like back in the alley, over and over, and hope for him to turn around, to look and see, to dance with you, to shake you and make you spill. But he doesn’t. You don’t think he ever will again.

You’re one of them now. He didn’t keep you away, he failed, and so now you know.

“And for fuck’s sake, someone take her the hell away from here.”

You kickstart. “No, I won’t go.” You’re here, you’re here, where would I go if you’re here?

He won’t even spare you a second, a moment. He’s walking towards the bar, he’s lighting a cigarette, his hands are still raw and bleeding. The club is closed for the night, you’re no longer needed. Just another witness, just another person in the room. He can make you feel so small, so incredibly small, like you never mattered at all.

Felix steps up and offers to drive you.

“To the house,” Chris instructs firmly, skimming through pages of numbers. “Stay with her until I come back.”

There’s tears stinging your eyes. You fight not to let anyone see them. There’s so much movement around you, it’s making your head spin. Red, fuschia, orange, yellow, blue—the lights never stop turning, they bleed over everything, a dream, a technicolor dream. You lift your hand to your cheek to confirm you’re still real, that you’re still breathing.

You’re sick to your stomach. Not enough. Not enough.

“Why are you sending me away?” You try again, foolishly hoping he’s going to pay you any mind, give you any explanation.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Felix mumbles close to your ear. “You don’t wanna be here for the clean up, trust me.”

Why are you sending me away, why are you sending me away . . . You don’t remember the ride to the club house. You don’t remember much of anything after the click of that gun. It echoes. The man’s eyes roll to the back of his head, a loop of red, fuschia, orange, yellow, blue, redfuschiaorangeyellowblueredfuschiaorangeyellowblue

Someone screams.

ACT FOUR: after.

“I’ve never had a moment’s peace.”

Shirtless, with bandages running down his chest and over his shoulder, he looks like a tortured man returned from war. Burned. Turned inside out.

He was born with a gun in his hand, a ticking time bomb in his head. It’s been counting down since, the brain has festered into a landmine, a battlefield. No. Peace is a foreign word. Reserved only for you.

You listen, you let yourself become the body he loves. You can’t find it in you to be angry at him, not anymore.

“How can I hold a thing like you in my hands and not break it? When you asked me for the truth . . . I couldn’t think of anything, (Y/N), not a single fucking thing,” he wraps a towel around your head, sure, capable hands pulling you up and helping you out of the bathtub. “What I feel for you is poisonous, it’s disturbing. You don’t want that. You shouldn’t want that. It’s not what you deserve.”

“You’re saying all this like you’re saying goodbye,” you whisper, letting him dry your skin, noticing the way he won’t allow himself to linger too long.

You see his mouth curve, his brow furrow. A strange image. It’s almost as if . . .

“I’ve only ever been a monster. A pathetic fucking excuse of a man, and I cannot keep you caged, I can’t keep being selfish with you,” when he’s once again met with your silence, he circles around you, hides behind your back. “You’re incredible, you know that? Other girls would’ve been running for the hills, but not you,” when he lets your hair fall, there’s a horrifying sound, like the earth ripping apart, the heavens falling—

Chris is crying.

Chris is crying and something is very, very wrong. Nothing feels right. He won’t let you turn around. His hands hold you still, his face is buried between your shoulder blades, and he.won’t.let.you.turn.around.

Your eyes sting with the effort it takes not to break down alongside him.

“You just—won’t—fucking—leave. You won’t give up,” he sobs, and then he’s hugging you, he’s hugging you so tight your ribs burn, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because you never in a thousand years ever pictured this man crying, much less in front of you.

“I’m never giving up,” you reassure him, trying to soothe the boy trying to come out, to escape. “Because I love you. Whatever that means for you, Chris. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He feel him shake his head, his hand wraps around your throat, bodies flush against each other. “I want you. I want you without . . .”

He lets go.

You turn to him, tilting your head, looking for his eyes. He exhales shakily, and moves away, grabbing his lighter from his back pocket, the cigarette from behind his ear. He rubs his face raw, then lights it, tip cherry red and burning fast, and he uses a hand to sit on the tiled floor, one arm resting on his knee. You get in front of him, towel forgotten, numb, completely numb.

“The club?” You say, quietly, so as not to anger the spirits, the demons. For no one else to hear but him. “You want to leave the club?”

He chuckles bitterly, and scratches his brow with a thumb, avoiding your gaze completely. Smoke swirls around you like snakes hunting for prey, an ominous presence. “I can’t even fucking say it. It’s been my whole life, my whole life. This fucking place—I know nothing else.”

“We‘ll figure it out. If you want out, we’ll find a way. Chris, these people look up to you, they trust you—”

“No, the fuck they don’t. That trust goes out the fucking window as soon as I walk. If I leave I’m a fucking traitor. If I leave I’ve betrayed all of them.”

You reach for his empty hand. He pulls away. You can’t ignore the Deja vu of this action. “And what about you?” You press, still. “What about what you’ve given for them, for their laws and rules? Your soul, Chris—”

He laughs, then, a proper laugh. When he does, finally, meet your eye, you see it all. The tortured, the choked, the repressed. It will never be easy. Ever. He might not ever make the decision, he might not ever leave. But dreaming about it . . . He has the right. No matter how unattainable, how unrealistic it seems to him. Why has no one ever shown him how?

“That battered, old thing,” he muses at his cigarette. “Lost it a long time ago, baby. Nothing there.”

“I don’t believe that.”

His smile breaks your heart. It looks so defeated, so devoid of any real happiness. “This is why I can’t let you go,” his fingers reach out and touch your bottom lip, the intention pure, nothing more than a reminder you’re still there, still his, but his gaze speaks of something darker, something you’ll never be able to quit.

“I got charges against me,” he says. “If I take the fall, the club remains. If I don’t, it all goes to hell.”

No. No. “Let it,” you choke out. “Let it! Chris, we can leave. We can go. Let’s just go. Please, I don’t—I can’t, I don’t want to lose—”

The biker puts his hands on your shoulders, shushes you, cradles you like a baby. You comply, a million different things bubbling inside you, ways to get him out, words you never said, everything you didn’t get to do yet. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

“Listen to me,” he continues, cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. “It’s already done. I’ll be gone for a long time, alright, and I need to make sure you’re fucking taken care of. Be a good girl for me, yeah? Listen to me, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t. You were crying too hard, you missed him already. What you two had was nothing but burrowed time, you knew this, and you still mistook it for forever. This was why he didn’t want to get too close. This is why, every time you tried to hold onto him, he slipped away like quicksand. It was all coming down to this.

“Sweetheart, come on, stop crying. You know who I am, yeah? Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. Listen to me—I’ve hidden money away. I want you to have it, okay? Use it to get yourself a place, somewhere safe. And don’t fucking go back to that club, I don’t wanna hear you went back, you hear me? Do something for yourself, go to school, I know how fucking smart you are, you’ll fucking blow them away. Hm?” He lifts your chin with his thumb, kisses your forehead, staying there, lingering for one, two, three seconds, before he pulls back and looks into your eyes, willing you to agree, to accept the money, to go on living without him. “I love you, alright? You got all of me, whatever’s still there, it’s all yours. Don’t wait for me. Live.”

“I don’t want to.”

He deflates, sighing heavily. “Don’t make this harder than it is, (Y/N). Do what I say.”

You shake your head, sniffling, wiping at your cheeks. “Not without you. I’m not doing any of that without you. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”

His expression is pleading, his nails digging into your skin like he wants to crawl inside and change your mind. “It’ll be years, baby. Too many. You’ve no fucking idea the shit I’ve done. They got it all, some fucking snitch went and gave it all away. I’m turning myself in tomorrow, I’m not—I’m not fucking asking you to wait. You’re not. Find some lucky boy that’s got nothing to do with this life, and be normal. I never meant to bring you into all of this. You didn’t—didn’t fucking deserve it.”

“Just like that?” you ask, defeated. You could never picture yourself being with anyone else, no one at all.

After Chris, nothing. Alone. Lonely, forever.

He chuckles, crushing you to him, his arms strong, and steady, and home, home, home. “Just like that. I’ll wring his fucking neck out if he’s not good to you, though. I’ll always keep an eye out, always make sure you’re safe.”

“Can I hear it again?” Such a quiet request, barely anything.

He knew exactly what you meant. Your heart broke, fresh tears making their descent on your face. He wiped all of them away. He held you as if, if it was up to him, he’d never, ever let go.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much, sweetheart. You’ll be alright. I got you. I got you.”

You reach to where you know he keeps his gun. His hand flies out to stop you, gaze flaming with fear, with anger. Ash burns your arm, but you don’t even feel it. You’ve seen him use it; undo the safety, press down on the trigger. It was so easy for him. It’ll be easy for you too.

“Shoot me, then,” you bellow. “If you’re not gonna let me do it myself, shoot me! I don’t fucking want this, I’m not losing you, I’m not getting with someone else! What about me? You got this great plan—did you ever stop to think about what I’d want? If I’d be able to move on like how you’re expecting me to? I can’t just switch off my feelings for you, Chris, it doesn’t work like that, okay? I’ve gone through too much, I’ve seen too fucking much to just—to just—”

He wrestles you down, pinning your body on the floor, and getting on top of you, his smooth, cold gun resting on top of your heart. His mouth had curled into a tortured snarl, a bitter smile, his eyes shiny, crazy. You were shaking, he was shaking. You started crying, he started crying. With his thigh against your cunt, you felt his erection, hard and twitching.

“You think I didn’t think of this first?” He said roughly. “Christ, (Y/N), I’m trying to do the right thing here. You think I’ll be able to fucking kill you? I fucking adore you. I’d rather shoot myself in the head first, get it over with. Don’t ever fucking ask that of me again. I’ll be a dead man the second I do such a thing. I’ll be a dead fucking man if I’m not able to have you. Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

“Coward,” you spit in his face, and fight against his death grip. “Sentence us both then. I’ll be dead either way.”

He smashes your lips together. It hurts, it hurts, you wanna say, but you don’t think it’ll ever stop. There’s nothing in his way, everything in yours. In the time it takes to unzip his pants, grab his cock and guide it inside you, you’ve mourned him a thousand times over. To never have this again—him, again. . . You’ll die from missing him. You’ll cry yourself dry. There’s absolutely no way to escape this fate. You’re not ready, you’ll never be. How ridiculous it all seems in the end, faced with losing him.

He makes love to you slow, gentle, like he’s never done before. It’s not so much to get you off, than it is to make you understand. He could kill you both, but he’ll never be able to see you again. His place will be hell, the lowest level, the one he’ll have to keep walking for all eternity, while you’re up with the angels. If he doesn’t, if he hides the gun and never thinks of it again, at least he knows you’re somewhere out there, where there might be a one in a million chance he gets to be with you once more. If you’ll take him. Old and grey. He’ll never see you again as you are underneath him right now.

You stay like that on the floor for a while, with his seed spilling from between your legs, your scent all over him. You kiss him and for the first time, he kisses back. No teeth, no fists.

When he moves you over to the bed, he sleeps for the first time since he was born.

He sleeps and he dreams of you, of little hands reaching out, of being away from all this, far, far away. What he would give.

Everything. Everything.

[runariya]

Crash Course in Love • 1

pairing: snowboard instructor!Jungkook x ex-gf!reader (feat. platonic OT6) genre: rom-com, Exes 2 Lovers, slow-burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: strong language, slow burn, angst, Namjoon's a snack, smoking, brief mentions of drugs, OC and JK are petty af, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 15.2k

a/n: Part 1 is finally here 🎉 This fic is going to be my comfort story. It's relaxed for me but also quite new in the way I'm telling it and the length. I hope you like it and enjoy it as much as I do writing it 💕

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 02

You’ve never been much of a risk taker. That’s just not who you are. You've always believed in playing it safe, thinking it’s better to be cautious than to end up regretting a choice. But living that way has meant you’ve missed out on the grand adventures that others your age fondly reminisce about. In fact, this cautious attitude is exactly what ended your last relationship.

Jungkook, your ex, was the definition of a thrill-seeker, the kind of adventurer you read about in stories. He thrived on excitement, and in the beginning, he managed to pull you into his world, convincing you to join him on his smaller adventures. You’d go camping with him or ride along on his motorcycle. It wasn’t much, but for you, it felt like a lot. You were doing things you’d never willingly do on your own. For him, though, it wasn’t enough. And you knew that. So, rather than holding him back any more than you already had with your shy, introverted, no-risks-please kind of persona, you ended things.

Did you regret it? Both yes and no. Yes, because letting go of the love of your life hurt more than anything. And no, because you knew it meant Jungkook could finally live the way he always wanted, without restraint. Watching him happy, embracing life to its fullest, was what you wanted for him. But when he decided to travel the world right after the breakup—the thing you two had dreamed of doing together—it stung deeply.

Jungkook had always been the rational one, even if he was emotional at times. He understood why you made the decision you did, and though it hurt him as much as it did you, there was nothing more to say. When your words were final, that was it.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t stop yourself from checking in on him, stalking his social media to see him living his best life. Each post only made you feel worse, insecure about the choices you’d made. So, in a moment of frustration, you decided to turn things around. You would live on the edge, too. You’d make "risky" your new middle name.

You started small. Baby steps. You poured your glass of water right up to the brim, nearly overflowing, and then picked it up to drink, knowing full well there was a 99% chance you’d spill it. But you didn’t care. You lived dangerously now, and besides, hydration is key.

Next, you let your phone battery drop to 1%, watching the screen dim, your palms sweaty with the urge to just plug it in. But you resisted, holding out until it died completely. Of course, you rushed to charge it afterward, but you’d never admit that part.

Things escalated. You started crossing the street when the walk sign only had five seconds left, sprinting to the other side like a madwoman, just barely making it before the light changed.

But what really pushed you over the edge was seeing Jungkook’s latest post: him, laughing and carefree, with an unfamiliar woman by his side.

That’s when you signed up for skydiving, bungee jumping, and even got your motorcycle license. It was fun—really fun. But doing it all alone felt hollow. Without someone to share those experiences with, the thrill didn’t last long.

As winter approached, you found yourself at your cousin Yoongi’s apartment, practically begging him to join you on your latest venture—a two-week stay at a ski hostel to learn snowboarding.

“I’m not doing shit,” he said flatly, not even looking up from the couch.

“Pretty, pretty please, Yoongs.” You threw your best puppy-dog eyes at him, hoping for a miracle. Kneeling on his carpet, which was nowhere near plush enough to make this comfortable, you added, “I’ll do almost anything you want if you come with me. Pleeeeeease.”

“Everything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost everything,” you clarified.

“Nah, I’m not going. Leave me alone.”

At that, you got up and threw yourself onto the couch beside him, clinging to his arm like a child. You put your face right up next to his, pouting dramatically. “Pwease, Yoongi oppa?”

“Ew, don’t call me that,” he said, surly grimacing in disgust.

“Okay, but only if you come with me! You won’t have to spend a cent. I’ve already paid for everything. Please, please, please.”

Yoongi sighed, and you could see him starting to waver, shooting you the occasional side-eye. “You’ll cover everything?”

“Everything,” you repeated, your eyes sparkling as you sensed victory.

“Fine.”

“Yesssss! I love you!” You kissed his cheek loudly, and he shoved you away with exaggerated disgust, though you knew he secretly enjoyed the affection. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 4 a.m. Pack your bags!”

“4 a.m.?” he groaned.

“Yup! See you then! Bye!”

“I never agreed to go that early! Hey, no! Wait—”

But you were already halfway out the door, knowing that if you stuck around to hear any more complaints, he’d change his mind in an instant.

Day 0

"I'm sure it's here... somewhere," you mumble desperately, trying to navigate your small, old car through the frosty streets of this tiny town. It's not that you're a bad driver, but Tony—your car, named after Iron Man—is getting on in years. With no power steering, driving these treacherous roads is far from enjoyable. Especially with a grumpy, moody Yoongi sitting beside you, not letting you think for a minute.

"I doubt that. You've got us stranded somewhere civilisation hasn't even reached."

"Oh, come on, I know it's here. And it's not as desolate as you're making it out to be! We saw another car, like, 20 minutes ago."

But Yoongi's right. You're no longer sure if you're heading in the right direction. Your phone died hours ago, leaving you without navigation, and there's been no sign of life for miles. You're hoping for a miracle—or at least that your memory of the route isn’t completely off—because the petrol’s running low. You've turned off the heater in the hopes of making it to the hostel without having to walk, but that means you’re both freezing, and Yoongi’s seconds away from murdering you. Not that there’s much left of your blood to spill, as the cold has probably frozen it solid by now.

"I regret agreeing to this, you know?"

"You've told me that already. Like, four times in the last... what? Five minutes?" Your teeth chatter uncontrollably, and you can’t help but silently agree with Yoongi, calling yourself all sorts of names for coming up with yet another idea that’s entirely out of character for you.

"And I'll keep saying it until we arrive. If we ever do." Yoongi’s breath fogs up as he speaks, and when Tony stutters—a sign that it’s running out of petrol or sheer willpower—you feel like you’re about to cry.

The snow hasn’t let up, towering in piles along the narrow street that seems to climb uphill endlessly. At this point, you’re not only terrified of being stranded but of Tony giving out and sliding all the way back down. All you can do is pray. Pray that this journey turns out better than it started, because, frankly, there’s not much that could make it worse.

"Wait, can you see that building?" You lean forward, nearly pressing your nose against the steering wheel, squinting to get a better look at the dark, blurred shape in the distance. Your windscreen wipers are losing their battle against the snow and frost, getting stuck midway, making visibility even worse. "Can you read the sign?"

Yoongi grumbles something inaudible as you both roll down your windows simultaneously, peering outside—not because it isn’t cold enough already, but because there’s no way to keep driving with a snow-covered windscreen. The freezing air and snow immediately assault your face, biting at your cheeks, nose, and everything else. Your nose starts running mercilessly, your eyes sting with tears that freeze on your lashes, making it nearly impossible to keep them open.

Yoongi’s not faring much better. His short hair, while practical, leaves his ears exposed to the cold, turning them bright red in an instant. Yet somehow, he’s still able to swear profusely—though you’re not sure if it’s aimed at you or the weather.

"It says ‘dinosaur,’" he spits out into the biting air. 

"Yes! It’s ‘Dionysos!’ We’re here! I told you we weren’t lost." You regret smiling immediately, as the cold stabs at your teeth, making you fear they’ll shatter into a million pieces.

"Just park the fucking car."

As you manage to crest the hill, a small but beautiful town comes into view, beginning with the quaint little hostel you booked. And after you parked Tony right in front or it, you somehow manage to force the car windows back up, the frozen mechanisms protesting all the way with deafening screams. But you don’t care. With aching, frost-bitten limbs, you leap out of the car, grab your bags from the boot, and bolt inside the hostel, Yoongi practically bulldozing past you to get in.

Your arrival is marked by a tiny bell hanging over the entrance. While it’s not Christmas yet, the decorations for the advent season are in full swing. But most importantly, it’s warm. So wonderfully warm that you can’t help but take a deep breath, letting the heat thaw you from the inside out, as you discreetly wipe your nose on your sleeve.

"Oh, hey!" A man behind the reception desk greets you immediately. His glasses sit low on his nose, and a ridiculous Christmas jumper stretches across his tall frame.

"Hi! I’ve booked a room for two weeks. It’s under the name..." 

Before you can finish, the man interrupts, saying your name. You glance warily at Yoongi, who, as expected, doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s already parked himself by the fireplace, looking like a cat forced to endure the cold for far too long.

"You’re our only guest this season." The man laughs uncomfortably, clearly sensing your suspicion.

"Oh." That’s all you manage, throwing another helpless glance at Yoongi, who remains completely uninterested.

"Yeah, I can’t compete with all the amenities that new hotel chain offers," he adds with a shrug.

"Oh! That’s a shame." You step forward, genuinely sorry to hear about the plight of small businesses, struggling to survive against the corporate giants.

"It is what it is. But I’m glad to have you here." He flashes you a dimpled smile, his perfectly aligned teeth momentarily dazzling you. "My name’s Namjoon, by the way. I’ll be your landlord, caretaker, cook, and whatever else you need during your stay. Just let me know, and I’ll make it happen."

You shake his hand, startled by how cold your fingers still are. "Thank you so much, Namjoon! You already know my name, but this grump glued to your fireplace is Yoongi."

"Honeymoon?" Namjoon asks, with a teasing grin.

"Ew, no." Yoongi’s voice drips with disgust, and he doesn’t even flinch under your glare.

"What he means is, no, we’re cousins, spending the holidays together."

"Forced to spend—"

"Willingly."

"Threatened to—"

"Shut up, you agreed! Don’t make me look like an idiot."

"You nearly killed us."

"Oh, I did not! Stop lying."

Namjoon clears his throat, cutting off your bickering. You both turn to him sheepishly, like children being scolded by a parent. Your cheeks are burning, not just from the warmth but from the embarrassment of your argument.

"I’ll give you a tour of the place, then?" Namjoon offers, smiling warmly.

"Yes, please," you reply, eager to move past the awkwardness as soon as possible. 

Yoongi struggles to tear himself away from the fireplace, but eventually, both of you follow Namjoon, who remains all smiles despite your rather unorthodox arrival.

“So, this is the main area. You can relax by the fireplace whenever you like—it’s lit all the time,” Namjoon says, glancing at Yoongi, who still seems transfixed by the flames. “To the left are the rooms. There are only three, and yours is at the far end. I took the liberty of choosing the honeymoon suite because, well… you know what I thought. But honestly, it’s the best room here, so it’s no big deal.”

You swallow the urge to ask if it’s possible to have two separate rooms, but you’re running low on cash. Since you’ve become Yoongi’s unofficial sponsor for this trip, two rooms are out of the question. You just hope Yoongi has somehow outgrown his relentless snoring from childhood because, God forbid, you’ll be at your wit’s end if he ruins your sleep for two whole weeks.

“And to the right is my private room and the dining area. Any allergies I should know about?” Namjoon asks.

“No,” you and Yoongi reply in unison, sounding like textbook tourists. Not that you aren’t, but you’d rather it wasn’t so obvious.

“That’s good to hear. These days, everyone seems to have some kind of allergy or gut problem. I really don’t want to have to drive you to the hospital; it’s quite a distance from here…”

Namjoon stops mid-sentence, realising he’s rambling. You’re still standing there, bags in hand, coats on, now sweating from the warmth. You can only hope your body doesn’t rebel from the extreme change in temperature.

“This way, please,” Namjoon says, leading you towards your room. He swings the door open ceremoniously with an old-fashioned key in hand, and you and Yoongi follow, your heavy boots and coats disrupting the otherwise serene, festive atmosphere.

“Wow,” Yoongi murmurs, and it’s truly a sight that will stay with you forever.

It isn’t the room itself that takes your breath away, but the view. The wall facing the mountains is made entirely of glass, offering an uninterrupted view of the snow-covered slopes from peak to base. The storm has lessened without you noticing, revealing thick, heavy snowflakes gently falling, while the sun breaks through the grey clouds that shadowed your entire journey.

You watch as skiers and snowboarders carve their way down the mountainside, zigzagging effortlessly through the untouched snow. At the foot of the mountain, families are building snowmen and riding sleighs, laughter and joy visible even from this distance. It’s in moments like these, during those once-in-a-lifetime experiences, that your thoughts drift back to Jungkook. You find yourself wishing that things had turned out differently, that he could be here to share this with you.

You shouldn’t feel sad about it. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him, especially when he’s clearly moved on. Your relationship feels as distant and forgotten as a book written centuries ago—once beautiful, overflowing with fairytales too good to be true, but now irrelevant, no longer suited to withstand the test of time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Namjoon’s voice pulls you back to the present, and for that, you’re grateful. Yoongi wouldn’t understand your feelings, and even if he did, he wouldn’t indulge your nostalgia over a past relationship—especially because it was your first and last. 

“It is. Thank you for giving us this room, Namjoon. It’s more than I ever expected.”

Yoongi tosses his bag onto the floor by the bed, shrugs off his coat and shoes, and immediately flops onto the bed, his gaze fixed on the view.

“No worries, really. There’s a phone and a card with my number on it by the nightstand. If you need anything, come to reception. If I’m not there, knock on my door—I’m happy to help.”

Namjoon’s kindness and humility stir something in you. He’s incredibly good-looking, tall, and there’s something about his calm and friendly manner that makes you feel at ease. As he smiles at you, his dimples showing, you wonder if perhaps you might let yourself indulge in him a little—let him be the warmth you’ve been missing.

But for now, you’ll settle in. Let the next two weeks pass without forcing anything. You want to be swept up in whatever comes your way. 

“I’m really happy I booked with you, Namjoon. You’ve been so kind, and this room is perfect. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.”

Your eyes linger on his for a moment longer than you’d admit was necessary, and you seize the opportunity to ask him a few more questions just to keep looking at him. 

“So, I booked a snowboarding course through you. That starts tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, the instructor’s a friend of mine. He’ll be staying here too but won’t arrive until right before your lesson. You booked the classes for a full week, correct?”

“Yeah, I thought a week would be enough, and we’ll practice on our own after that.”

“That should work well. He’s great at what he does and an excellent teacher. But if you need more help, he’ll still be around for the rest of your stay.”

“That’s good.” You’re only half-listening. Namjoon’s dimples and kind eyes are distracting you too much to focus on his words.

“Oh, before I forget—anything in town worth seeing? I’d love to stroll around today since we’ve got no schedule.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Yoongi mutters, his voice dripping with boredom, but neither you nor Namjoon pay him any attention.

“Hm, there’s not a lot, but you should visit ‘Jimin’s Pastries.’ He supplies my bread, and his pastries and coffee are to die for.”

“That sounds perfect. I think I’ll check it out straight away—I’m starving,” you say with a bashful laugh. “You coming?” You ask Yoongi coldly, knowing the answer.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. So, how do I get there?” Immediately you turn back to Namjoon.

“I could show you?”

There’s a slight hesitance in Namjoon’s offer, but it only makes him more endearing. You smile genuinely, feeling a little more charmed than you’d like to admit. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great, let’s go then.” His easy-going nature doesn’t falter, even when Yoongi calls after you, “Bring me back some food!”

There’s no need to answer; the door to the room has already closed behind you, leaving Yoongi behind as well.

“I’ll just need to fetch my coat real quick.”

You follow Namjoon to the reception, your eyes drawn to the way his hips move with each step, the subtle flexing right in front of you. It’s not as if you objectify every attractive man you meet, but Namjoon clearly takes care of himself, and there’s nothing you can really do. After all, you’re no saint, and Namjoon is definitely one of those reasons you’ll never take a vow of celibacy.

He doesn’t take long to return, emerging from his room with a rather thin coat hugging his body, making you feel a little ridiculous in your thick down jacket. But there’s no way you’re changing now.

Ever the gentleman, Namjoon holds the hostel door open for you with a small smile, and you thank him silently as the bell above the door chimes again softly. You don’t let your thoughts drift too far—don’t let them wander back to that time when Jungkook told you he always thought he’d meet his soulmate when he heard a bell the first time he saw them.

Because you’re sure that’s just folklore, just a whimsical story, something for entertainment. And even though Namjoon seems like someone nice you could spend time with, the fanciful idea that he might be your soulmate because of a little bell is absurd.

Outside, the cold hasn’t let up one bit, though the storm and heavy snowflakes have finally ceased. But this time, you welcome the chill, grateful for the contrast to the stifling heat of the hostel and the layers you’re bundled in.

You walk side by side, heading deeper into the small town, and now that the air is clearer, you notice fairy lights strung across the street, bare trees decorated with quaint Christmas ornaments, and every house and shop adorned for the season.

“So, how long have you been running the hostel?” you ask, unwilling and not comfortable nor confident enough to let the silence stretch for too long, opting for small talk that feels so much more safer.

“It’s been a few years now. I took over when my father couldn’t run it anymore.”

“That’s a responsible thing to do. I’m sure he’s proud of you.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but Namjoon’s hair isn’t black at all. Now, as the sunlight reflects off his soft-looking strands, you realise it’s a dark brown, making him look much younger.

“He is.” Namjoon smiles bashfully, glancing down briefly as though to hide a slight blush. “I just hope I can keep things going as well as he did.”

“I’m sure you will. The place is lovely.”

“Thanks. But what’s really lovely is Jimin’s, which is right here.”

Namjoon gestures towards a small shop you hadn’t noticed before, stopping just a short walk from the hostel. You realise now that everything in this tiny town is within easy reach, which you find very convenient.

And he’s right, ‘Jimin’s Pastries’ looks jut as charming as the hostel. The building is old but beautifully restored, its large windows inviting you in without detracting from its historic charm, as though it’s withstood the test of time. The large windows must be new, but you suspect the struts are original, as is the interior you can spot from outside, and it makes you marvel at it instantly.

Namjoon leads the way inside, once again opening the door for you to step through first. Again, a soft chime rings above the door, and the first thing you see is a man behind the counter, slightly shorter than Namjoon, with a smile as radiant as the sun itself, his eyes crinkling into crescents, making him look oh-so-youthful and impossibly welcoming.

“Hey, hyung! Who’s this you’ve brought with you?” the man asks brightly, his voice as musical as a singer’s.

“This is ___, she’s my guest for the next two weeks. ___, this is Jimin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please, take a seat, make yourself at home! Namjoon, the usual?”

“Yeah, and some of your magic pastries. We’re starving, right?” Namjoon offers you a seat after taking your heavy coat, which you accept with a shy smile, feeling unaccustomed to such attentiveness.

“Yes, that sounds great. Thank you.”

“And what would you like to drink, ___?”

You squint up at the menu hanging above the counter while Namjoon takes his seat across from you after putting your coats on a rack near the entrance, but Jimin doesn’t give you much time to decide.

“Oh wait, I’ll bring you my special.”

With that, he sets to work, moving quickly around like a busy bee, and you take the opportunity to absorb and soak in the cosy, homey atmosphere.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Namjoon whispers over the sound of coffee beans being ground, leaning in slightly, his elbows resting on the table.

“It is. Thank you for showing me this place. I can’t wait to try everything—it all looks so delicious.”

The display of cakes and sweets is overwhelming, filled to the brim. The macarons, in particular, seem to call out to you, their bright colours practically begging to be tasted, looking almost too perfect to be real, knowing that you have to try them.

“I hope you like it as much as I do, or else I won’t know what to serve you for breakfast.”

You can’t help but giggle with Namjoon, his demeanour so warm and charming it’s impossible not to feel at ease.

“Here you go!” Jimin sings as he walks over with a tray nearly overflowing with pastries, balancing so many that even if you hadn’t eaten in days, you’re sure that there would still be leftovers. But you you’re not about to complain, secretly pleased you’ll get to taste almost everything on offer.

“The usual for Mister NJ, and here’s yours, beautiful,” Jimin winks cheekily, handing you a cup of coffee off the tray. You try to suppress the shy blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s really been a while since anyone’s flirted with you like this, and even if it’s maybe just playful, it’s not unwelcome, but simply unexpected.

“Thank you.”

You’re a bit surprised when Jimin pulls up a chair to sit between you and Namjoon, but thinking about it, it makes sense. There are no other customers at the moment, shop being completely empty except for you three, and it’s clear he’s close friends with Namjoon. Besides, you don’t mind; in fact, it’s comforting to be making these friendly connections, especially if you’re going to be here for two whole weeks. Maybe if these two weeks go well, you could see yourself coming back here one day.

Sensing the expectant looks from both men, their eyes flicking between your face and the cup of coffee in your hands, you finally take a sip—and are immediately thrown back to memories of Jungkook. The momentary peace you’d found is shattered as the familiar taste hits you. The coffee is good, wonderful even, just as perfect as you expected from Jimin’s first impression, but it tastes exactly like how Jungkook used to make it for you, though serving it in a normal cup seems rather…interesting now. 

But Once, you loved the aftertaste of sweet iced Americano, loved the aftertaste after Jungkook had put his lips on yours. But now you’re alone. Now, you’re without him, and there’s nothing you can do but swallow it down, hoping your expression doesn’t give you away—hoping they don’t see how broken you really are and that you’re lying. Lying that you’re not stuck in an all time low for years now, lying that you’re not trying to fix your pride since.

“Wow, it tastes amazing!” 

But both men jut blink at you now, and it’s only then that you realise your hands are trembling slightly, and that the smile you’ve tried so hard to put on doesn’t feel as genuine as you’d hoped.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin’s uneasy in an instant, his brow creasing. “Don’t you like it? Would you prefer something else?”

They both look rather too concerned for their own goods now. Jimin, too, tries to take the cup from your hands, but you hold it closer to you. It’s kind of sweet how strangers seem so empathetic towards you, and it somehow soothes the ache in your chest, even if it’s only a little, but not quite enough to make you forget.

“No! It’s perfect. I swear. It’s just that it reminds me of someone who’s no longer in my life.”

“Oh, my condolences.” Namjoon stretches out his hand, resting it gently on your lower arm with sad eyes.

“No! Oh gosh, no, it’s my ex. He’s alive, we just broke up.”

While Namjoon’s face falls into an embarrassed, crooked smile, taking his hand away, Jimin’s lights up like the fairy lights outside in the dawn. He wastes no time sliding closer to you, his wooden chair squeaking lightly on the tiled floor. 

“Oh, tell me about it. Was it recent?”

You want to say yes, because even though it’s been a while since the split, it still feels like it was just hours ago. But at the same time, the time spent apart from Jungkook feels like an eternity, too unbearable to survive, really.

“Uhm, no, it’s been years, actually.”

And that shifts the whole room into chaos. Jimin doesn’t miss a beat before suggesting, “You just need to get properly dicked down, one good time.”

Namjoon looks even more embarrassed, trying in vain to get Jimin to shut up, while you sit there watching them argue about whether or not Jimin’s suggestion is the right way to help you forget your ‘scruffy ex’—his words, not yours or Namjoon’s.

“Actually, I’m not really interested in finding someone new at the moment.”

“See! I told you! Just let her be!” Namjoon leans back in his chair with a proud, triumphant smile on his face, crossing his arms as if he’s known you for years, which, obviously, he doesn’t. His glasses slide down his nose, making him look less convincing than he should.

“Oh, shut up, she just doesn’t know it yet. Maybe we could set her up with C. I think they’d look cute together.”

“I don’t know, man, you’re kind of right, but he’s not looking for anyone either.”

“That’s perfect! Wait, tell me something about yourself, I need to check if you’d vibe with him.” Jimin again leans in close, his elbows resting on the table between you, hands framing his chiseled jawline as he looks at you with sparkling, excited eyes.

You’re not sure what’s just happened, or who this ‘C’ is. And especially, you’re unsure how to answer the request to ‘tell them something about yourself’. Do you tell them about the introverted self you once were or maybe still are deep down? Your default so to say? Or do you describe the ‘new’, in your opinion uncomfortable self you’re desperately trying to become? At this point, you’re not even sure who you are, and the realisation exhausts you more than the drive here did.

“I…hm…I’m more the type of person who’s calm and doesn’t like a lot of adventures or risky things. So, I don’t think there’s really anyone out there who could handle that.” Yeah, great way to spark someone’s interest—talking down on yourself should definitely be added to your list of traits.

“Oh, that’s perfect. C’s been out of his mind for years. He definitely needs someone to balance him out. The dude’s mental.”

You raise an eyebrow at that, eyes flickering between Namjoon and Jimin. If he’s mental, why would Jimin want you to get involved with him? You’ve got enough of your own problems; babysitting a potential partner is the last thing you want to do.

“Oh no, he’s not mental mental, just a bit too reckless. He’s searching for something no one really understands. I reckon he’s just looking for love, or to be loved, but he’s obviously not finding it.”

“Oh... I see…” You nod vaguely, trying to piece together the information being thrown at you without getting whiplash. “But, uh, who is C, exactly?”

“He’s your snowboard instructor, actually,” Namjoon chimes in. From the look on his face, he’s completely on board with Jimin’s idea as well.

“And his name is C?”

“We call him that. It’s short for BSC, which is short for Babystarcandy.” Jimin beams at you, as if this explanation makes perfect sense.

“I reckon that’s not his actual name?” You deadpan.

“Gosh, no! That would be ridiculous.” Jimin waves his hands exaggeratedly while Namjoon chuckles. “His actual name is—”

The loud ringtone of Namjoon’s phone makes all three of you jump, Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” blasting from his coat.

“Sorry, I’ll just get that.” Namjoon stumbles off his chair, tripping over his own feet. He grabs his coat at the last moment, pulling it to the floor with him as the hook breaks under the weight.

“Not again,” Jimin sighs, rubbing his eyes with both hands as he sinks further into his chair. “I swear to God, one day—”

“Why am I calling myself?” Namjoon wonders aloud before quickly answering, “Hello?”

You can’t hear the other side of the conversation from across the room, but Namjoon doesn’t seem confused for long. He responds joyfully, “Of course. We’re heading back now... sure... bye.”

“You’re going to pay for that repair,” Jimin mutters as soon as Namjoon hangs up and gets to his feet, tucking his phone into his trousers and pulling on his coat.

“Of course, I always do. That was Yoongi, by the way. He’s hungry and wants us to bring him food. Sooo, could you pack up all the pastries?”

“Yes, of course!” Jimin jumps up immediately, gathering everything together while you watch longingly as he takes the macarons too. But you’re not too sad—you’ll just gobble them as soon as you’re back in your room.

You stand, finishing your coffee in one go, knowing that even though you can taste the caffeine from how strong it is, it won’t do much once your stomach’s full. You’re simply too knackered after today to stay awake longer than necessary.

“Yoongi called you from your hostel phone?”

“Yeah, he didn’t know another way.”

“I can’t with him; he’s so shameless sometimes.” Namjoon helps you into your coat, a gesture you’d like to get used to again—the simple act is just too sweet not to fall in love with.

“Ah, I don’t mind. I like people like him; they’re always honest.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Here come the treats!” Jimin sings as he swings open the door to the back room. The pastries are now securely packed in a paper bag, which he hands to you. “Thanks for coming by, and make sure to come tomorrow too. We’re not done talking, especially after you meet C in person!”

You can’t help but laugh with them both. It’s refreshing to feel joy and fun around you without having to put yourself at risk with some nonsense activity. But if you’re honest with yourself, you wouldn’t have met them if it weren’t for that very activity.

“Thanks, Jimin. I appreciate it. And we’ll see if I’m still alive after tomorrow.”

“You will be—C will take good care of you,” Jimin winks again, and with that, the door chime sounds as Namjoon opens it for you. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” you and Namjoon say in unison, stepping into the cold night as the wind bites at your face again. The fairy lights now illuminate the whole street, ornaments reflecting their red and gold hues, looking like something straight out of a film. Children are still up, playing in the snow and running around, while couples stroll along the pavement. 

It’s a scene you wish you could see every day, and as you make your way back to the hostel with Namjoon by your side, you can’t help but glance up at him now and then as he talks about the small details of the town’s history, C and Jungkook momentarily forgotten.

Day 1

You regret bringing Yoongi with you. So much so, you want to cry and never stop.

It’s not like he’s bad company—not all the time, anyway—but sharing a room with him puts everything into perspective. His snoring hasn’t lessened one bit since childhood; in fact, you’re pretty sure it’s gotten worse. There’s no way you’ll get an ounce of rest if you keep sleeping in the same room, so you decide to ask Namjoon at breakfast if there’s any chance you can switch to the other spare room.

Lying awake all night until Yoongi got up at ass o’clock, leaving the room with his laptop and other gear, had you contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made, including the ones yet to come. Isn’t it ridiculous what you’ve got yourself into again? Sure, you’re kind of sporty, but when it comes to risky sports like snowboarding, you’d much rather watch others do it than try it yourself but here you are. 

You’re sure if Jungkook had seen the way you’ve been living these past few years, he’d laugh. Not that he’d ridicule you—he’s not that type—but you’re certain the clown you’ve become would disgust him as much as it disgusts you.

You’re not sure if it’s healthy to still be so hung up on your ex, or if it’s just normal when you’ve lost the love of your life. Normal in the sense that every thought circles back to him, like you’ve taken the fall for some drug called Jeon Jungkook. 

You’ll probably have to search the internet for a rehab clinic that specialises in self-inflicted heartbreak because after this adventure, there’s no way you’re doing anything like this again. Enough is enough. Especially when there’s possibly, just maybe, a potential partner—someone cozy and inviting, like Namjoon—who might actually like you for who you really are.

It’s still early, but you need to get up and grab some breakfast, knowing today’s course will be physically draining if you attempt it on an empty stomach. You’re certain that dragging Yoongi out will take extra time you don’t have to spare. The thought of making a bad first impression on C terrifies you, not only because he’s a stranger, but because, as Namjoon said, he’s coming here just for you.

Groaning, you force yourself out of bed. The room has cooled slightly overnight, which wasn’t a problem under the thick duvet, but now you can’t seem to handle the cold as well as you usually do. Rushing into the en-suite, you’re first greeted by the warmth of the heated floor, and then by the horrifying sight of your reflection.

“Please, don’t,” you plead, as if your reflection could magically change the image of your swollen face, a result of the ridiculous amount of pastries you munched last night. Your dark circles look more like war paint than the result of a restless night—a far cry from a cute quirk.

There’s no point in using much makeup, not when you’re going to be snowboarding—or rather learning how to—all day, so you settle for a bit of concealer. It takes a lot of mental pep talk to leave the blush behind, knowing the cold will soon give you rosy cheeks and a red nose the second you step outside the hostel. 

Getting dressed is a bit easier; you throw on some thermal black gear, braid your hair into two sections, and leave the room in search of either Namjoon or Yoongi.

It’s no surprise to find Yoongi by the fireplace again, empty plate and coffee nearby, but seeing Namjoon beside him—Yoongi clicking away on his laptop while Namjoon raps into a microphone—leaves you speechless. There’s a whole side of Namjoon you hadn’t seen before. Sure, you only met him 12 hours ago, but you never would’ve imagined, in a million years, hearing him angrily spitting line after line. And despite his usual softness, this harshness leaves you nearly gasping for air.

What are you supposed to do? You’ve always had a weak spot for bad boys, men who exude confidence. And Namjoon is definitely giving off that vibe right now.

“Oh baby, what’s your name?”

The whimper that escapes your mouth is so embarrassing, especially when both men look up at you—Namjoon halting mid-rap—that you can’t, for the life of you, figure out what’s wrong with you. Are you really this pathetic, or was Jimin right all along? Maybe you just need a good shag to recalibrate your brain to normal. It’s been years, and considering the state you’re in now, something’s surely got to change.

You muster whatever dignity you have left and greet them as casually as possible, “Good morning.”

Yoongi, ever the ray of sunshine, doesn’t bother turning away from his laptop, clicking away as if you’re just a fly that’s wandered in. But Namjoon? He meets your eyes with a smile that could rival the dawn itself.

“Morning! Ready for breakfast?”

“Yes, please.”

You’re smitten, and there’s no hiding it as he leads you to the dining area. A table is already set, and you recognise Jimin’s bread in an instant. Knowing how hungry you are after your late-night binge, you waste no time sitting down, your eyes glued to the treats and toppings on offer.

“Fancy a coffee?”

“Black would be perfect!”

“Not a sweet tooth?” Namjoon jokes, pouring you a cup from the thermos flask, the rich aroma battling with the scent of the food.

“Not in the morning.” You smile up at him.

“Probably because you’re sweet enough straight out of bed.”

His wink nearly makes you faint, and it’s clear that while Namjoon’s good with his tongue when rapping, he’s also very smooth with it. You wonder if…

“I guess so,” you mumble, too flustered to look him in the eye now. 

He chuckles quietly and sits opposite you, not bothering to eat himself.

“Not hungry?” you ask, feeling a bit more composed as you distract yourself by preparing your breakfast.

“Nope, I just ate. Just wanted to keep you company.”

“That’s nice of you, thanks. I really hate eating alone, though I do it almost every meal. So, I appreciate it.”

“No worries, I’m happy to keep you company.”

“So, you rap?”

A lazy smirk forms on Namjoon’s face, his head tilted up slightly, and you know full well he’s aware of what he did to your hormones minutes ago. He only hums in confirmation.

Cocky. But you like it, and it suits him. You just hope he’s not too confident—that would be a massive turnoff.

“Side hustle or hobby?”

“Hobby, but Yoongi’s been putting a bee in my bonnet, to be honest.”

“He’s persistent when it comes to talent.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m talented, but he’s a dope producer. I didn’t recognise him at first, but man, I’m lucky to have him here. A literal world star staying in my hostel. I’m gonna have to make a wall of fame or something.”

You snort at that because as ridiculous as it sounds seeing Yoongi on a ‘wall of fame’, Namjoon’s not wrong. Yoongi is world-famous, though he prefers to keep a low profile, which you admire. Well, most of the time. Him being this tight with the expenses of the trip leaves a bit of a sour taste in your mouth—not caused by the coffee, that’s for sure.

“Are you famous too, by any chance?”

You snort again, “You wish.”

“Shame.”

“Tell me about it. Even though I’m the broke one, I’m still the one sugar-mommying him,” you mumble through your bites, not wanting to waste time without filling your stomach.

Namjoon’s laugh lights up the morning even further, and you’re all too glad you booked this hostel. It would’ve been miserable spending your time alone while Yoongi’s off doing his own thing every chance he gets. 

“Any chance of getting a separate room?”

“Why?”

“I can’t spend another night lying awake because of Yoongi’s snoring.”

You look at each other, and suddenly the inconvenience doesn’t seem as bad as it did all night. Namjoon’s laugh is going to be your secret weak spot from now on.

“Sure, I’ll just move your luggage if you haven’t unpacked yet.”

“That’d be great. Thanks so much.”

“No worries.” Namjoon watches you for a bit while you eat, like it’s the most fascinating thing happening to him.

You don’t mind at all—it’s not awkward—but you can tell you’re running out of time by how slowly you’re eating.

“When do we have to leave? Is C here already?”

“Yeah, he got here a few hours ago but went straight to the slopes. You’ve got a few more minutes. I’ve sorted out some gear for you at Hope’s. He’ll give you everything you need for the week.”

It’s a relief knowing Namjoon has thought of everything, especially since you’re not fond of surprises or poorly planned outings.

“You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“It’s my job, ___.” He winks at you again, and if you weren’t so focused on shovelling food down, you’d probably melt into your seat.

“All done,” you mumble through your last bite, crumbs shamelessly falling as you stand up.

“Perfect timing. I told Yoongi how to get to Hope’s; it’s not far.”

Not wanting to thank him yet again like a broken record, you just nod and follow him to the main room, where Yoongi’s already by the door, waiting. You’re not sure why he’s so eager when he didn’t even want to come in the first place, but you don’t dwell on it as you say goodbye to Namjoon and head out, Yoongi handing you your coat.

The walk to Hope’s? You’re not really sure despite Namjoon mentioning the name twice, but to the guy who runs the ski and snowboard equipment hire shop indeed isn’t far.

As soon as you step into his shop, you’re hit with the sight of all kinds of winter sports gear and old-school rap blaring at full volume—likely coming from some speakers behind the counter where the seller greets you.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Hey, we’re guests of Namjoon and—”

“___ and Yoongi! Of course, Namjoon’s already told me! I’m Hoseok!”

“Weird.”

“Shut up,” you hiss at Yoongi. “That’s perfect. It’s our first time, and there’s no way we’d know what we need.”

“I’ve got you. Just follow me, I’ll start by getting the right boots for you.”

“Thanks.”

There are so many boots in all sorts of colours and sizes that you’re not sure if they’re all for hire or if some are for sale, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s no way you’re going snowboarding again after these two weeks, so you’d gladly pick whatever’s the comfiest.

Yoongi, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share that thought, picking out the most expensive-looking boots. Truth be told, they do look the fanciest, and if you were as loaded as him, you’d go wild too. It’s with a jolt that you remember you’re the one paying for all this, and there’s no way you could afford the ones Yoongi’s holding up to inspect.

“Put them back,” you hiss, slapping his hand, scolding him for being so careless with your expenses.

“Ouch, that’s rude.”

“I’m not paying for them. Put them back before you damage them and I end up bankrupt.”

“So, what sizes do you usually wear?” Hoseok interrupts, completely unfazed by your bickering.

“Seven and a half.”

“Three and a half.”

“Dwarf.”

“Bigfoot.”

“I’ll bring you one size up,” Hoseok says with a smile. “Any particular colour you fancy?”

“Purple.”

“Black.”

“Got it, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you both at the rack, disappearing behind a curtain into the back room.

“Could you stop embarrassing me, please?”

“I didn’t do shit, ___. Stop whining.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Need I remind you I’m doing you a favour here? Where’s the respect?”

“Sorry, oppa,” you bat your eyelashes at him mockingly.

“Say that again and I’m leaving.”

“How? Tony’s petrol’s empty. You’re going to walk home?”

“Bet.”

Just as you roll your eyes, Hoseok returns with two shoeboxes and two helmets, placing them down on a bench.

“I’ve brought you brand new ones. There weren’t many in your sizes I’d be comfortable renting out.”

Yoongi and you sit on opposite sides of the boxes while Hoseok removes the packaging from the new boots. Yours are purple, but just the laces and stitching—the rest is black, which gives them a more grown-up look compared to kids’ shoes. You fall in love with them instantly and eagerly grab one to put it on. But no luck.

Even though they’re fully open, you can’t seem to get your foot inside, despite your efforts. You stomp on the ground, pulling at the boot with both hands, but it’s no use. Yoongi, of course, isn’t struggling at all—typical, he’s good at everything.

“Here, let me help,” Hoseok kneels in front of you, securing your calf and the boot, angling the heel to the floor. “Now stand up and push your foot in.”

You do as he says, and with a soft, satisfying ‘plop’, your foot slides in without a hitch. “Thanks! That was easy!”

You repeat the process with the other boot, tightening the laces and clasps, then stand to take a few steps. You stumble slightly, not used to the weight and bulk of the boots, but soon get the hang of it.

“They need to fit quite snugly. When you’re fully geared up, make sure to fasten them as tight as possible. Otherwise, you’ll go flying, and your board will stay on the snow.”

“Oh. Right. Okay. Yeah, sure.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like the idea or the mental image of being catapulted out of your boots while your snowboard says c’est la vie.

To your amazement, the helmets Hoseok picked for you and Yoongi fit perfectly as well.

“If you’re feeling good, let’s get you sorted with snowsuits, yeah?”

You nod and attempt to follow Hoseok, but Yoongi pulls you back down onto the bench, your ass hitting the hard surface with a rather painful thud.

“Take them off, idiot. How are you going to get a suit on with those still on?”

Ugh… it’s obvious, really, but you’re too stressed and anxious about snowboarding to function properly. It’s in moments like this that you start spiralling, regretting your decision all over again. You’re not sure what gave your thoughts away, but Yoongi seems to notice the shift in your mood, as he rests a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m here. Don’t stress.”

You lock eyes with him, and you can see a bit of regret there. It’s normal for you two to bicker and take the piss out of each other, but it’s also normal for you both to care. You love each other, like cousins do, and part of you regrets ever thinking you’d made a mistake by bringing him on this trip. Because honestly, there’s no one else in your life right now you’d rather do this with.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s all good. You’ve got this, okay?”

You just nod, loosening the clasps and laces to take the boots off and helmet, then walk in your socks over to where Hoseok is rummaging through racks of snowsuits.

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to get your right sizes and for Yoongi to disappear into the changing room first. You’re not really sure how to start a conversation with him, but thankfully you’re saved by the shop’s phone ringing.

“Excuse me,” Hoseok smiles politely, walking towards the counter where the phone is obviously placed.

“Hope’s, how can I help you?”

You hold the snowboard jacket in front of your chest, admiring its intricate design in the mirror hanging in front of you, trying not to obviously listen in on the call.

“Jaykaaaaay.”

You freeze, the nickname ringing all sorts of alarm bells in your head. There’s no way it’s Jungkook; like, literally, there might be a million other people with that nickname. You need to calm down somehow, because if your anxiety rises any further than it already has, you’re sure you’re going to die from heart failure.

Hoseok’s repeated and drawn-out calling of this nickname doesn’t help in the slightest, and you reckon that if he repeats it one more time, you’d punch him in the face, even though you’re so not the type to be violent. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Thankfully, the cheerful shouts stop, and Hoseok listens in until he locks eyes with you, a smile forming. You try to figure out if all the people in this town have such perfect teeth, if there’s a dentist who works magic, or if everyone just has perfect high-end genetics you could only dream of.

“Yeah, they’re here at the moment.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What do Yoongi and you have to do with this phone call?

“Just a few more minutes. I’ll send them to the beginners’ hill when we’re finished, yeah?”

Okay, hold up—it must be the instructor on the other line, and Namjoon and Jimin called him C, but Hoseok just called him Jaykay, which has nothing to do with C nor BSC. Was it even BSC? Anyway. There’s a very real chance that it’s definitely not Jungkook, because, shame on you, you’ve seen him post a picture from Hawaii last night on socials, which, obviously, isn’t here.

You don’t feel the need to ask Hoseok who it was or what’s going on with these multiple nicknames. For all you care, it could be a 50-year-old, and you’re stressing yourself out for nothing. 

Hoseok comes to your side after he’s hung up, and Yoongi emerges at this moment too, though he’s not modelling his snowboard suit but has it draped over his arm.

“Fits,” is all Yoongi says, nodding once in Hoseok’s direction.

“Perfect, now it’s your turn.” Hoseok gestures for you to the changing room, and you don’t waste any more time. The faster you’re out of here, the faster this day is over, and that’s all you want as the snowboarding course gets closer.

“Thanks,” you mumble, searching for Yoongi’s eyes for just a little more reassurance, but he’s already too busy having a normal and civil conversation with Hoseok, something you wish he’d do more often with you. 

There’s not much room in the changing room, especially when the snowboard trousers are this wide and baggy, so you fall against the walls multiple times, trying not to faceplant onto the floor.

“You good?” Hoseok’s voice is heard from outside, and it’s so unbelievably embarrassing realising that Yoongi had no struggle trying the clothes on because there wasn’t a sound coming from him. Not because the walls are thick or soundproof—no, because he’s simply doing well, like every human being should.

“Yeah!” you call, hoping that the high-pitched tone of your voice doesn’t give you away. But who are you kidding? There’s the low but unmistakable giggle and some mumbled words from Yoongi, followed by Hoseok’s shrill laughter.

You’re going to kill Yoongi, going to push him down the hill and watch him become a snowball and crash into the abyss of a glacier. Stupid moron—you should have left him at home and come alone, and the sharp tug of your jacket’s zipper punctuates your resentment perfectly.

The anger fades as fast as it came, because you look like the coolest professional snowboarder on earth. You twist and turn, make a bum-check, but realise there’s not much to see in these oversized clothes. Still, you feel good in them, especially as your body heat multiplies, which is the best sign that you’ll survive all day in the snow.

Knowing you’ll have to leave as soon as you’re finished, you take the jacket off and rip the price tag away. After undoing the trousers and doing the same, you don’t care if the gear is expensive. Even if so, you’d still use it for sledging or in case of a blizzard or something. You’re sure you’ll get creative with its use.

Sipping everything back up, you collect your down jacket and step out of the changing room, not as elegantly as usual, but more with a rustle and a slight swaying due to the fabric. You can’t suppress the smile that grows on your lips, Yoongi and Hoseok looking equal parts amused and approving of your appearance. You’re all going to get a good laugh out of it when you’re wearing the snowboard boots as well, and that’s all you need right now—humour to suppress the anxiety.

Two snowboards are already lined up. Hoseok helps you into the boots again, while Yoongi masters dressing himself like a real grown-up.

“C’s going to adjust the boot holders on the snowboards for you, so you can just take them with you as they are. They fit your height. And you can leave your shoes and jackets here and collect them whenever you’re finished for the day.”

“That’d be great.”

“Thanks, Jwe-Hope.”

You side-eye Yoongi. Why’s he getting soft with Hoseok? And why does he give him yet another nickname, as if the man doesn’t already have enough?

“No prob, Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok says in an exaggeratedly playful tone, while Yoongi dabs him goodbye.

You’re fascinated by how Hoseok managed to melt the ‘Ice King’s’ heart in the few minutes you were away, and it’s even more fascinating how Yoongi just heads for the door without you even having paid yet.

“Yo, wait! I need to pay!”

“Yep, I’m outside having a smoke.”

There’s nothing you can do as Yoongi leaves without even turning back, your shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I’d like to pay, please.”

Hoseok nods with a smile and you follow him to the register. He scans one tag after the other, the price skyrocketing while your bank account starts to scream in the background. 

“That’ll be 899 dollars,” he beams.

Your smile is wobbly, as is your hand as you hand over your credit card, knowing that this trip will be more expensive than you ever thought.

“Thanks again, Hoseok.”

“No problem, and please call me Hope.”

“Sure, Hope,” you say, securing your credit card in the inner pocket of your jacket. “Have a nice day, and see you later.”

“See ya, bye!” He waves enthusiastically as you head for the door, interrupting Eminem’s Godzilla with your stomping and rattling. How ironic.

Yoongi’s leaning against the shop’s wall as you step outside, just about to take a drag of his cigarette as he notices you glaring at him. Snatching the cigarette from his lips, you take a drag yourself.

“Thought you quit.”

“Give me a break, I need to calm my nerves.”

“Reckon some coke would be better, you’d feel invincible and wouldn’t be scared shitless.”

“Reckon you could just shut up, yeah?”

He just laughs as you give him his cigarette back and make your way to where you assume the slope is.

“This way.”

You stop in your tracks, taking a deep breath with closed eyes. You don’t want to go off at him again; you’ll need every ounce of energy, and wasting it by bickering isn’t the way to go.

Reluctantly, with the snowboard and helmet awkwardly clasped in your hands, you manage to follow Yoongi, though walking on asphalt is rather uncomfortable in these boots, though the walk might be again very short. 

True to that, arriving in a few minutes at the beginner’s hill is a bit sobering. The hill’s neither high nor steep, even kids with sledges would probably call it boring, but you don’t mind one bit. Honestly, it’s perfect for you. No real chance of getting hurt and ending up like one of those cute little animals from Happy Tree Friends.

Off to the side, there’s the lift access and the main slopes, with skiers and snowboarders already queuing up for their first or maybe their nth lift of the day. 

One snowboarder shooting down the steepest hill, which just so happens to be the only one of its kind, catches your attention. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, and the way he moves is hypnotic. You can’t help but think he must be a pro, maybe even an Olympian.

“Look! He’s so good.” You point him out to Yoongi, who shifts from looking bored to mildly impressed.

“Why’s he coming our way, though?”

“No way.”

But it’s true. He’s definitely your instructor. And not some fifty-year-old guy, either. There’s a lump in your throat you can’t quite swallow, especially because this guy’s height seems just a little too familiar… maybe too much like Jungkook’s. As far as you remember, at least.

You try to reason with yourself. Tell yourself there’s no way this is happening, because he’s got to be in Hawaii—Instagram stories and TikToks made that pretty clear, playing the role of a drunk uncle on family gatherings who can’t keep personal matters shut. You cling to that thought as the man stops a few feet away from you. You cling to it when he takes off his helmet, revealing just a black balaclava. You cling to it even when his eyes give him away.

But when he pulls off the balaclava, all you’re left with is the crushing realisation that you’re absolutely, without a doubt, screwed.

“Hey.”

Jungkook’s voice hasn’t changed much—maybe it’s a little rougher, could be also just from the cold—but it’s still the sound that makes you want to cry. Or run. Honestly, either would work right now.

His eyes lock onto yours, and all you can do is stare, wide-eyed, as if he’s some unreal figure, like a fairytale character suddenly brought to life.

You’ve watched Jungkook mature over the last few years—not in person, but still. You’ve seen the piercings he’s got and the tattoos currently hidden beneath his gear and gloves, and you’re suddenly more than aware that even though he was perfect back then and you shouldn’t have persuaded him to get piercings and tattoos, he’s become the one man you always knew he would be, if not more.

“S’up,” Yoongi just nodding.

That makes Jungkook glance at him, almost as if he’s only just noticed he’s standing there. A small frown forms on his face, but it disappears just as quickly as it came, and he holds out his gloved fist for Yoongi to bump.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, your instructor.”

“Min Yoongi.”

“The producer Min Yoongi?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook glances back and forth between you and Yoongi several times, and it dawns on you—he doesn’t know you and Yoongi are cousins. Yoongi was abroad the entire time you were with Jungkook and only came back right after the split, so of course, he never met him. And this… this is something you can work with. Maybe you can use it to keep Jungkook at arm’s length, or at the very least, avoid a complete emotional meltdown if Jungkook’s indeed moved on.

So you laugh softly and link your arm with Yoongi’s, resting your head on his shoulder, who just looks down at you, clearly confused by your sudden affection but, to his credit, says nothing. He knows you well enough to trust there’s a reason behind it.

“___.”

“Jungkook.”

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s my ex.” Jungkook’s smile isn’t the warm, beautiful one you remember. No, it’s that slightly unhinged smile, the one with his head tilted just so, and it makes you silently gulp.

“That ex?” Yoongi asks, even though he knows full well there’s only one. You reckon he caught on quickly to the game you’re playing.

You hum in agreement, but Jungkook can’t help himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Luckily, Yoongi knows how to steer a conversation. “Aren’t we supposed to be learning how to snowboard?”

There’s a brief pause, and you see the way Jungkook’s nostrils flare slightly as he takes a deep, calming breath.

“Yes, sorry. Let’s get started.”

Jungkook bends down to unclip his boots from his board and stands up again, tossing his board into the snow so it sticks upright. Yoongi follows suit, shoving his board into the snow like it’s second nature. You try to copy them but fail miserably, wondering how they made it look so easy when the snow’s this solid.

“Here, let me help.” Yoongi, surprisingly, helps you without his usual snarky comments about your lack of strength.

“Alright,” Jungkook claps once to grab your attention. “Before we get into any of the fancy stuff, let’s talk theory. Snowboarding’s all about awareness. It’s not just physical—you’ve got to keep your head in the game.”

“Awareness? Like, where you’re looking?” Yoongi asks dryly, acting dumb you know he isn’t. 

“Exactly. Where you’re looking, where your body’s pointing,” Jungkook gestures bizarrely between you and himself, barely glancing at Yoongi. “That’s where you’ll go. Simple as that. If you’re distracted—by, say, something or someone—you’ll lose focus. And losing focus means losing control.”

Yoongi, unfazed, just rolls with it, clearly enjoying the little drama Jungkook seems keen to stir up. “Makes sense. Keep your eyes on the path ahead, yeah?”

“Exactly, mate. Eyes forward, always. But it’s more than just looking. It’s feeling the terrain beneath you. Even when you’re standing still, you’re never really still. You need to sense the environment. Be present, y’know?”

You nod, though in reality, you’ve got no clue what he’s talking about.

“Some people, though,” Jungkook continues, “they get distracted easily. Head in the clouds. Or… elsewhere.”

Oh, you’re not letting that slide. Whether he’s jabbing at you, Yoongi, or both, you’re not having it. “Could you just explain the theory without the snide remarks?”

Jungkook’s taken aback, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, just trying to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

You just shake your head, and he carries on.

“Right. Balance—this is key. It’s all about your centre of gravity. Too stiff, and you’ll fall over. Too loose, and you’ll just flop around.”

“Don’t want that, do we?” Yoongi smirks, clearly challenging Jungkook to keep his little act going.

“No, mate, you really don’t. Trust me. You need to find that sweet spot—controlled, but relaxed. Kind of like…” he glances at you, “when you’ve got things under control in your life, but you’re still going with the flow, yeah?”

Your eyes narrow at him, but you bite your tongue. There’s no point in calling him out when Yoongi’s clearly enjoying winding him up.

“Sounds like life advice, that. Keepin’ balance, goin’ with the flow.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, “Not that everyone takes it to heart.”

Oh, no, he did not just say that. You never expected Jungkook to be this petty. He’s the one who moved on first. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Anyway, let’s get warmed up. Let’s do some exercises using the hill.”

You thought that ‘warming up’ would mean some jumping jacks and stretching, but oh, how wrong you are.

Jungkook has you and Yoongi running up and down the beginner’s hill without regret, and honestly, you can now confirm—it’s very much steeper than it looks.

While Jungkook just looks on, you and Yoongi can’t stop laughing and joking about how you are both panting like you’d just run a marathon, earning you multiple scoldings from Jungkook to stay focused. Not that it matters much, considering the only thing worth focusing on was trying to catch your breath—you nearly passed out twice at this point.

Despite Yoongi also being knackered, he still holds up better than you, but you can’t help but to clap him on the ass with a sarcastic “atta girl” more than once, which not only annoys him but seems to make Jungkook’s jaw clench in irritation too.

After what feels like the tenth climb, Jungkook finally calls it, walking towards you. “Enough. Short break.”

You and Yoongi groan in relief, collapsing onto the snow, letting your breathing slow down gradually. Only now, as you lie there exhausted, do you notice how beautiful the day is, the sky almost completely clear of clouds. From the position of the sun, you reckon it’s close to lunchtime, your stomach already growling in gratitude at the thought of food after all this exercise.

Turning your head to the side, you glance over at Yoongi, who’s also lying on the cool snow, admiring the sky. Suddenly, you feel sentimental. You really hit the jackpot having him as a cousin—he’s probably the most reliable person you know. It’s moments like this, especially when he turns to look at you with those soft eyes and that warm smile, that remind you how much you appreciate him. Reaching out, you intertwine your hands, knowing he’ll understand the rare moment of affection and let it happen for once. 

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Anytime.” Yoongi squeezes your hand, his gummy smile spreading across his face, a trait he’s clearly inherited from his dad.

Jungkook’s rather aggressive throat-clearing reminds you that you’re indeed not alone. Your petty ex is standing right there, looking as irritated as he’s been all day.

“Let’s do some stretches, then we’ll get on the boards,” he says, trying to mask his annoyance but clearly fails. 

You and Yoongi drag yourselves up, lining up in front of Jungkook like school kids, who’s about to demonstrate some stretch when, in the distance, someone calls out Jungkook’s nickname—one you’ve found increasingly odd now.

“C!”

There’s a beautiful woman running towards him waving energetically, the same woman you saw in pictures with him on social media.

“Hara!” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop her up when she’s near, lifting her off the ground as they giggle together.

You’d never admit it, but the sight makes you feel physically sick. You’d rather gouge your eyes out than watch this scene unfold ever again. At least you’ve made Jungkook believe you’re with Yoongi—otherwise, you’re not sure how you’d survive the fresh stab to your heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” she scolds him playfully, tapping his arm while he still holds her hands.

You can’t bear the sight of his eyes sparkling for someone else, so you turn to Yoongi, who’s raising an eyebrow at you, silently asking if you’re okay. There’s no need to respond. You both know the truth—you’re still not over your ex. But what could you have done? Begged him to take you back before he found someone else? No. That’s not who you are, and you wouldn’t have stopped him from living the life he clearly enjoys now.

But seeing him today, seeing how hurt he is just by the sight of you—or rather, you with someone else—makes you uneasy. Especially when Hara is being overly affectionate with him.

“Oh, how rude of me. I’m Hara.” She turns to you, extending her delicate hand. You briefly consider ignoring her, but you decide to be the bigger person. Unlike Jungkook, who’s been cold all day, you take off your glove and shake her hand, introducing yourself politely. Take that, Jungkook.

She moves on to Yoongi, and after he introduces himself, her face lights up like a kid at Christmas.

“Oh my God! I’m such a fan! You’re, like, the best producer ever!” she gushes, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to burst out laughing at the sour expression on Jungkook’s face.

You: 2, Jungkook: 0.

“Really?” you ask with a mischievous grin, keen to twist the knife further. “Oppa, you should definitely sign something for her, don’t you think?”

Yoongi shoots you a look that could kill, but he simply smiles, his eyes betraying all the curses he’s silently aiming at you. “Of course.”

Still clutching Yoongi’s hand like it’s a lifeline, Hara turns her head back to Jungkook. “Oh my God! Did you hear that, C?”

“I heard,” Jungkook replies through gritted teeth. “Why are you out here in the cold, by the way?”

“Oh, right. I came to tell you that Namjoon’s arranged lunch at Tae’s.”

“That’s nice of him,” you sing sweetly, unable to resist adding a little extra honey to your voice. Everyone else gets your praise, everyone but Jungkook. Maybe you’re just as petty as he is, but you’re not backing down now, especially not when you can see his patience fraying by the second, his eyes dark with annoyance. A reaction is a reaction at this point. 

“Oh, and before I forget,” Hara continues, turning and clinging to Jungkook’s arm and batting her eyelashes at him, “can you pretty, pretty please come to Jin’s tonight and tomorrow? We need help getting everything ready for the party in two days.”

It’s odd seeing Jungkook so easily swayed by her, the kind of behaviour you never thought he’d entertain. But maybe he’s changed, or maybe you never knew him as well as you thought.

“Sure, anything for you.”

Yep, you’re definitely going to throw up in the snow.

“What party?” Yoongi pipes up, earning himself a mental kick from you. There’s no way you’re attending a party where Jungkook will be.

“An early Christmas party! You’re both invited, of course. From what I’ve heard from Jimin and Namjoon, you two fit right in with everyone here,” she giggles.

For once, you and Jungkook seem to be on the same page, as he starts, “I’m sure they’ve got better—”

But for what feels like the hundredth time today, Yoongi interrupts, “No, we’d love to come. Thanks for inviting us.”

That crazy smile Jungkook had earlier is now plastered across your face as you look at Yoongi. Despite the silent argument raging between you two, you can’t help but trust him. Whatever plan he’s concocting, you have no idea, but you’re sure he’ll fill you in when you’re back at the hostel, alone.

For now, though, you trust him, because what else can you do?

"Let’s head to Tae’s then."

“With the boards?” you ask dumbly, because there’s no way you’re carrying your board across town.

“No, just leave it here and see what happens.” Jungkook smiles, a grin that instantly vanishes when Hara punches his chest.

“What’s with you? Be kind.”

“Sorry, noona.”

Ooh. So he’s with an older woman. Who’d have thought? It shouldn’t get under your skin this much, but it’s been a crap day, hell, even some crap years, and there’s nothing you can do to undo every thrilling experience you wish you hadn’t gone through because of him.

“I’ll help,” Yoongi mutters, grabbing not just his snowboard but yours too. If there’s one thing you could do to repay him for this gesture, it’d be to name him the sole recipient in your will. Not that you’ve got much to leave behind, but the thought counts, right?

You hadn’t expected ‘Tae’s’ to be a cabin on the slopes nearby, nor did you think it’d be a luxurious home rather than a restaurant. As you approach the door, you’re impressed—there’s no sign of it being some kind of inn as Hara rings the bell.

It doesn’t take long for someone to open the door, wearing nothing but some slacks and an open bathrobe, showing off his tanned, chiselled chest.

“C!”

“Tae!”

The two men pull each other into a bear hug, patting each other’s backs like they’re trying to knock the wind out of each other. Male friendships—you’ll never get them, and honestly, you’re glad you were born a woman with every violent tap. 

When they part and Tae gives Hara a few friendly kisses on the cheek, you notice she’s just as comfortable with him as she is with Jungkook. Odd.

Then Tae turns to greet you and Yoongi. His eyes widen when he spots Yoongi, and a huge, boxy smile spreads across his face, so wide it looks like his face might split.

“Hyung!”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi replies, sounding strangled as he gets crushed in the taller man’s arms.

You’re torn between being amused by the visible disgust on Yoongi’s face as he’s squashed against Taehyung’s bare chest or offended that Yoongi never mentioned he knows someone who lives here.

“Please let me go.”

“Sorry, hyung, it’s been ages! How are you?”

“Good.”

“Ah, I’m doing well too, hyung, I’ve missed you.”

“I can tell.”

It’s amusing how Jungkook and Hara are a bit thrown off by Yoongi’s coldness, but as far as you can tell, both you and Taehyung know it’s just Yoongi being his little ray of sunshine. He’s genuinely happy to see Taehyung again, even if he doesn’t show it openly. 

“And who’s this Miss Universe you’ve brought along? Are you on your honeymoon?”

You don’t have a chance to answer when Taehyung turns to you, because frankly, his intense gaze and barely-dressed body in the cold are a bit overwhelming. It’s kind of bizarre that he’s standing there in the open, half-naked, while the rest of you are bundled up for the weather. You force yourself not to check if his nipples are hard and instead stretch out your hand politely.

“That’s ___.” Yoongi’s voice is heard. 

But Taehyung ignores your outstretched hand and steps forward, pulling you into an embrace and kissing your cheek, completely throwing your composure out the window.

“Are you two dating?”

You glance at Yoongi over Taehyung’s shoulder, both of you equally unsure how to answer. Yes, you’re pretending, but outright lying is something neither of you is comfortable with.

“We’re—” you start to say, dragging it out, but thankfully, for reasons you can’t quite grasp, Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s shoulder, pulling him away from you and cutting in. For once, you’re grateful for Jungkook’s stupidity.

“Let’s get inside. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Yes, right! Come in, come in.”

Entering Taehyung’s place is nothing short of wild. The grand open space is filled with dubious art pieces, the kind where you’d rather not know the price tag.

It doesn’t take long to kick off your snowboard boots and gear, leaving you in your base layers. Despite the warmth inside, the sudden shift in layers makes you shiver slightly, especially since there’s nothing in your stomach to keep you warm.

Following Taehyung further inside, you let your eyes wander, and you can’t help but stop when you spot the massive dining table, looking more like something out of a castle. It’s not the Korean BBQ on it that catches your attention but rather the chairs lined up around it. They’re shiny black. Not so unusual, except for the fact that they’re shaped like the backside of a person—naked, at that.

Yoongi, absolutely unfazed, just grins and gives you a light shove on the lower back to keep you moving.

“I hope you’re hungry. I brought plenty, so don’t feel like you’ve got to be all posh and eat like a bird.”

Rounding the table, you sit down beside Yoongi, while Hara joins Taehyung on the other side of the table. Why Jungkook chose to sit next to you, when there are thousands of other free chairs, is a mystery you’re not eager to unravel. Especially when you shoot him an irritated look as he sits down, and he just smiles like it’s the most normal thing in the world—as if the two of you weren’t split ages ago.

Not wanting to dwell too long on that and because you’re intestines are eating you alive at this point, you turn to your host. 

“Thanks for having us, Taehyung. I’m starving after being tortured all morning.”

Everyone laughs at your comment—except Jungkook, who tries to nudge your ribs with his elbow, but you dodge, still somehow familiar with his antics.

“I didn’t torture you.”

“You did,” Yoongi mutters, boldly reaching for the meat to throw on the table grill, which has been sizzling away since you sat down.

“C always tortures people, nothing new,” Hara remarks, and Jungkook looks more betrayed than the day you broke up with him.

“You’re mean, noona.”

“‘You’re mean, noona,’” you mock him, cringing at yourself even as the words come out. It disgusts you how petty you’re being, and you recoil from it inwardly. The others don’t seem to share your sentiment, laughing at Jungkook being moody.

“Oppa, how do you know Taehyung?” 

“Please, just call me Tae.”

“You remember the paintings in my studio? He’s the artist.” Yoongi answers you casually, though you can sense how much it bothers him being called oppa. 

“No way! That’s so cool!” You gush, letting your eyes drift to the artwork hung on the walls as Yoongi adds food to your plate, much to Jungkook’s annoyance, which he makes clear with a side-eye.

“Aww, it’s not much.”

“Shut up, you’re amazing,” Hara scolds Tae, and you can’t help but think that, under other circumstances, you’d probably want to be friends with her. She seems funny and genuinely nice, which just makes it suck more the longer you dwell on it.

“I’ve been looking for a painting to hang above my bed for ages, but I can never find the right one,” you mention, trying to steer the conversation as far away from Jungkook as possible. 

“If something catches your eye, you’re free to have it, ___.”

“Really?!”

“Don’t spoil her; she doesn’t deserve it,” Yoongi jokes, and you know he’s kidding with the way his eyes flit to you. 

“Wow,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, but before you can respond, Taehyung cuts in.

“Why? What did she do?”

Oh no. Yoongi wouldn’t… but of course, he does.

“Little Miss Adrenaline here has been dragging me to most of her adventures since I got back from the States.”

“That’s not true. It’s only been a few,” you try to save face, but it’s hopeless with Yoongi being both your closest ally and worst enemy.

“So bungee jumping, kite surfing, and now snowboarding isn’t ‘most’?”

“No! I’ve done plenty without you, stop lying.”

“But it was enough.”

“They’re bickering like an old married couple,” Hara laughs, clearly torn between which of you to watch.

“It’s not enough—you’ve left me on my own more times than I can count!”

“At least I was there when you whined beforehand and came back all fuzzy after.”

“How noble of you.”

“You don’t seem like the thrill-seeker type, no offence,” Taehyung adds when Yoongi doesn’t come back with a retort.

“Well, sometimes you’ve got to step out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah! Look at you, trying snowboarding all bold and brave! Kind of like all the things you said you weren’t into when we were dating.”

The table falls into a deathly silence. Jungkook’s words ring out in the open space, echoing painfully in your heart and being. You’re stunned, utterly speechless at his outburst—it’s so unlike the Jungkook you knew. You don’t know what to say, and thankfully, Yoongi spares you the need.

“Want some more meat?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your voice is quiet, too low to betray the trembling in it, but you’re sure everyone feels the hurt radiating from you. You don’t want to feel like a kicked puppy, but somehow, because Jungkook still means so much to you, it stings deeply.

The conversation between the others resumes, though you and Jungkook remain silent for the rest of the meal, though you reckon he doesn’t regret anything. 

You learn that Hara is the same age as Yoongi, and that Taehyung is a bit older than Jungkook—though only by two years.

Even though you haven’t recovered from Jungkook’s jab just yet, you start to enjoy the food, feeling more energised than you did this morning. Jungkook, however, is still steeped in his pettiness, especially when Yoongi helps you tear a perilla leaf off the stack.

It shouldn’t be a big deal, but the constant negative energy from Jungkook is draining you to the point where you’re not sure you’ll even make it back outside for the snowboarding session.

Luckily, neither Yoongi nor Jungkook seem to mind dragging the day out here at Taehyung’s place. Hours pass, and after Tae makes you his special smoothie for your ‘sure-to-be-sore muscles,’ and Hara spills all the gossip you never knew you needed, it’s clear the snowboarding course is off for today.

While Tae and Hara clean up the kitchen, and Yoongi and Jungkook, to your surprise, get along enough to talk shop about music, you take the opportunity to admire Tae’s paintings, hoping to find one that fits what you’ve been searching for.

There are several abstract pieces, bold in colours and strokes, but they feel too chaotic, making you feel restless. You’re about to give up when your eyes land on a smaller piece above the fireplace, drawing you in immediately.

It’s beautiful—abstract as well, but with muted colours. You think you can make out flowers, or perhaps there are angels. You’re not sure, but the painting exudes a calm, controlled aura that you can’t tear yourself away from. Reading the title on the little card in the corner, you see “All of My Good is Yours.” It’s poetic, and it speaks to you on a deeper level.

“You like it?” Taehyung asks, stepping up beside you, hands in the pockets of his bathrobe. With his tousled hair and laid-back vibe, he looks every bit the artist.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“You want it?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“Of course you can. I’d be happy to gift it to you.”

You smile softly, thanking him as you admire the painting once more, already picturing it above your bed.

“What’s the title about?” you ask, curious about the story behind the piece.

“C? Come over here real quick.”

You’re more than confused when Tae calls for Jungkook, not understanding the connection between him and this painting. You just hope the confusion isn’t written as plainly on your face as it is on Jungkook’s when he approaches you both, stopping just short between you and Tae. 

“S’up?”

“What’s the title about?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker nervously between you, the painting, and Taehyung. “Why are you asking?”

“I gifted her your painting,” Taehyung beams, completely unaware he’s just dug your grave and pushed you in.

The laugh that escapes Jungkook is anything but friendly, his eyes filled with what looks to close to hatred as they land on you.

“Of course,” he breathes, then eventually explains with a disdainful smirk, “it’s about a lover who knows he can’t live without the other.”

You’re shocked to the core. Was this painting meant for Hara, and it ended up at Tae’s by mistake? Or why would Jungkook paint something so meaningful in the first place? You can’t handle it after learning the meaning and that he painted it, even though it’s exactly what you’d envisioned.

You take the hit anyway and say, as neutrally as possible, “I guess I shouldn’t take it then. It feels too personal.”

“Why?” Jungkook scoffs. “It was supposed to be yours anyway.”

Jungkook turns around at that, leaving you gaping after him. It’s not just his mood swings but also his remarks that are giving you whiplash at this point, and seeing the equally shocked expression on Taehyung’s face, you reckon Jungkook isn’t usually this bitter.

“Well…”

“Well…” Taehyung echoes.

“Still want it?”

Do you? You’re not sure anymore, but maybe there’s enough time to figure out if you can look past it all and take it home.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Sure, just let me know, and I’ll pack it up for you.”

“Thanks, Tae. You’re too kind.”

“No worries.” He smiles as he walks back with you to where the others are lounging on his massive couch.

You don’t even have the chance to sit before Yoongi stands up and nudges you back to your feet. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?”

“I want a nap.”

“What about the course?” Jungkook chimes in.

“Tomorrow, mate. Today’s done.”

You’re grateful Yoongi made the decision for you because you wouldn’t have been able to say no to either Jungkook’s company or the course itself, even though both aren’t exactly the healthy pastime. But looking outside, with the late afternoon light fading, going back to the slopes doesn’t seem as inviting as it did earlier.

“Aight,” Jungkook says, clapping his hands on his thighs as he stands up too, completely unfazed by your puzzled expression.

“Wait, we need to get our stuff from Hope’s,” you call after Yoongi, who’s already slipping into his boots.

“I’ll call him and let him know you’re coming tomorrow,” Taehyung offers.

You’re not sure if it’s rude of you to leave it like that, but you thank him anyway, hoping it won’t be a big deal.

Everyone’s getting dressed in seconds, and once again, you’re struggling with your boots while everyone else watches. You try not to let the embarrassment show, but there’s no stopping the blush. Even when you throw pleading glances at Yoongi, he doesn’t offer any help.

“Let me help.”

Jungkook being the one to help is something you never expected after how the day has gone, but you’re grateful nonetheless. He bends down, and like Hope earlier, he takes the boot and your calf in his hands.

It’s nostalgic, him touching you, helping you when you’re the damsel in distress, and it makes you think about how different things would’ve been if you’d stayed by his side. You’re not sure how to feel—sad or angry. But who should you be angry at? Him? For moving on? Or yourself? Or maybe at Yoongi, for not stepping up like a cousin should in moments like this?

“Thank you, Kook.” You hadn’t meant for the nickname to slip, hadn’t wanted to see Jungkook’s starry eyes locked onto yours as though you’ve broken his heart all over again. But what’s done is done, and there’s no taking it back now. Not even the nickname.

“Thanks for having us, Tae.” Yoongi gives him a quick dab, and after Jungkook does the same, and you say your goodbyes, you leave with Hara.

You try to stay close to Yoongi, avoiding the other two. You don’t even have the energy to scold him for not helping you earlier. And while you walk silently towards the hostel, Hara takes a different route to wherever she’s staying.

You don’t ask, and you definitely don’t watch as she kisses Jungkook’s cheek as if they won’t see each other later at Jin’s. It’s different from how she kissed Taehyung, and you’re pretty sure even if they’re not officially dating, they’re at least sleeping together. The thought stings though. 

It doesn’t take long for you to reach Namjoon’s hostel, Jungkook, maybe for old time’s sake, opens the door for you to step in first, and when the door chime rings, you both glance up at the same time. There’s none of the old playfulness in his gaze, just a sadness you wish you’d never seen. You reckon it’s all just old feelings resurfacing—thoughts of the good times, ignoring all the things that went wrong.

“Hey! You’re back!” Namjoon calls from behind the reception desk, flipping through some books as the three of you stomp inside with your snow-covered boots. Just hours ago you thought his smile and laugh would be your weak spot, only to fade into insignificance after Jungkook’s presence. “How was it?”

“I’m still alive,” you and Yoongi mutter in unison, bringing a small smile to your lips. It’s not much, but it’s all you can muster right now.

“Told you C would take good care of you both.” Namjoon laughs while Jungkook shrugs off his jacket. He’s probably too warm already, like he always is.

“Your luggage is—”

“In our room, thanks, Namjoon.” You hope he catches the hint as you give him a crazed look, willing him to stop talking.

“Right, in your room.”

To his credit, Namjoon’s clearly confused, and he’s got every right to be, but he plays along, which is exactly what you need right now.

“I’m taking a nap. Bye.”

“Bye!” You wave at Namjoon, following Yoongi in a desperate bid to escape spending another minute with Jungkook. It feels rude, the way you’ve treated Namjoon, but you hope he’ll brush it off as exhaustion.

You just want a bath and then to crash, even though it’s still early evening. It doesn’t matter that Yoongi’s snoring will probably keep you up; as long as you don’t have to face Jungkook again today, that’s all that matters. Especially when you see him entering the room across from yours as you close the door to the honeymoon suite, knowing that he’ll be off to be with Hara any minute. 

masterlist • 02

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

taglist: @leah-rose03

[serendipitylily]

Screwin’ Around

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Summary:: Daryl finally gets tired of your teasing (inspired by my favorite season 3 carol/daryl moment)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v, no use of y/n, not proofread

word count: 2.1k

The group had been running all of the harsh winter after a herd of walkers had come and destroyed the Greene’s family farm in a fiery horror. Weeks of running and hiding, trying their best to survive. Everyone was exhausted and scared, running on fumes. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping them going. Everyone except for Daryl Dixon. He seemed to be in his element out here, as if he was born to be surviving like this. 

Daryl usually scouted ahead on his motorcycle, checking for any trouble they might run into. He would return to the group with food for the night, and you quickly became accustomed to the chalky taste of fire charred armadillo. 

You noticed how well Daryl seemed to thrive, and decided to stick close to him. He seemed indifferent about you, not taking the time to spare you a look while you followed him around.

The days went on as you shadowed his every move, learning about how he could survive so well. Daryl slowly became accustomed to your presence, despite how annoying he found you. He started to teach you some skills like how to track and skin animals. “If you spent as much time cleaning yourself like you do that crossbow you might smell better” You had teased him one evening. Just like every other time you said something to him, he would simply scowl and grumble. 

The two of you continued to stick together, or as Daryl would say you were “following him like a lost puppy.” That was until the group had stumbled upon their salvation, a prison. Of course, it was overrun by the undead. You all worked together to clear it, finally having a safe place for the first time in weeks. 

The group was celebrating, all gathered around a large fire pit and chatting. You decided to sleep in one of the guard offices, wanting a roof over your head. Feeling generous, you invited Daryl to join you, “Come on Dixon, even you could use a break. I’ve got an extra sleeping bag with your name on it.” Daryl looked at you with annoyance before he begrudgingly accepted. 

You creaked open the door and walked into the small guard room. The place hadn’t been touched in months and it was a shocking difference from the places you had slept before. You laid out the tattered bedrolls on the ground, making sure to leave ample space between the two. 

Daryl threw his bag and crossbow down in the corner of the room, you watched how his muscles flexed as he did so. You settled down into your sleeping bag, and kicked your muddy boots off to the side. 

The room was cloaked in darkness, the only light a faint flickering in through the window from the distant campfire. The silence was heavy, except the soft rustle of your movement as you settled in. 

Your body had given in to the exhaustion as your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing slowed. It didn’t last long however, you found yourself struggling to stay asleep. 

It was the middle of the night by now, frustrated from your inability to fall asleep you sit up with your back against the cold wall. Your gaze turns to the side as you hear Daryl stirring. The fire outside was burning low now, and you could just barely make out his silhouette as he sat up as well. 

“Can’t sleep?” You questioned, your voice low and soft. He nods and grunts, his eyes glancing over at you. “Me either. It’s too quiet” you admitted to him. “Feels too… normal.” 

“Normal” Daryl scoffed at the word. “Ain’t nothin’ normal ‘bout the world anymore.” You nodded in agreement, nothing could ever truly make you feel normal or safe again. 

As the two of you sat in silence, you couldn’t help but study the man you had grown close to over the past weeks. He could feel your eyes burning into his skin as you stared at the imprint of his muscles under his sleeve. 

“Pretty romantic don’t you think?” You said to him, leaning forward slightly. “Wanna screw around?” A small smirk on your lips as you teased him. You knew that he would probably just brush you off or tell you to shut up. 

To your shock, he answered; “Oh yeah?” His voice was low and husky. You could feel your face heat up at his remark, not prepared for him to actually reply. 

“Uh well-“ you tried to respond, but your brain had stopped functioning. Daryl moved over to where you sat and leaned in close to you. His eyes locked onto yours, his presence becoming overwhelming. 

His lips moved down next to your face, “What, lost your nerve girl?” He murmured into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Your lips parted as you attempted to say something, anything. The only sound that managed to leave your lips was a small whimper. 

“I seen the way you been lookin’ at me,” Daryl moved his large and calloused hand to cradle the side of your neck while his thumb stroked your cheek. You closed your eyes tightly, wondering if this was really happening. 

His voice was a low grumble, “You ain’t gotta say nothin’” you could feel your heart pounding as he spoke. “No point in pretendin’ anymore.” You swallowed hard, your throat dry. The way he was looking down on you made you shrink under his gaze. His hand tightened slightly on your neck, gently bringing you back to the reality of his touch against your skin. “You sure you want this?” He whispered against your skin. 

“Yes,” you said back, you could feel your face growing red with anticipation. Daryl pulled back, a small smirk on his lips as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and over your head in a swift movement. He paused for a moment as his eyes moved to study your exposed skin with a hunger that made you shiver. 

Daryl moved down quickly, capturing your lips with his. Your eyes fluttered shut and both of your bodies pressed together, you slung your arms around his neck to pull him in. You could hear ringing in your ears as his tongue slipped against your bottom lip, you parted them slightly to allow him access. His large hands roamed your body, stroking and grabbing at your flesh. You inhaled his scent, the mix of musk, leather and smoke mingling in your nostrils. 

His mouth moved down to your jawline, peppering hot kisses against your skin. You groaned loudly in response, your body arching and begging for more. Daryl’s hands moved lower to the hem of your jeans, sending electricity through your body. 

He pushed your back flush against the cold wall, the contrast between the chill and the heat of your bodies together heightened your senses. You felt his lips move down your throat, the stubble of his beard scratching against your skin as his mouth went to your navel. Daryl’s fingers moved to the button’s on your jeans and quickly undid them, promptly tugging your jeans off. 

The cold air hit your legs as Daryl tossed your jeans aside. He ran his hands up your thighs, his calloused and rough hands gliding over your skin. Your breaths were soft and ragged, you could see a hunger in Daryl’s eyes that made your core ache. 

His lips met yours again, kissing you rough and urgently. His large hands found your waist and pressed your harder against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Once again his lips traveled down to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin while leaving marks you knew would last for days. 

“You still with me girl?” Daryl pulled back slightly, whispering into your skin. All you could manage was a nod, too overwhelmed to make a coherent sentence. He smirked at you, his hand snaking down to your cotton panties, teasing the edge of them with his fingers. He slipped his hand underneath the fabric, his finger’s finding your slick heat. You let out a guttural moan and felt your body tense as he explored your folds. “So wet for me” he said, a smirk on his lips. 

All you could do was nod frantically as he found your bundle of nerves. He set an excruciatingly slow pace, stroking and teasing you. Your hips bucked against his touch, begging for more. Daryl pressed two fingers firmly against your bud and began to circle it rhythmically, occasionally dipping back into your folds. You threw your head back and stabled yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

Daryl suddenly withdrew his hand, making your whimper in frustration. Before you could say anything, he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties and pulled them off in one fluid motion. “Ain’t done with you yet.” He growled. 

He pushed himself between your legs, you could feel his hard bulge through the rough material of his jeans as he grinded against your sensitive heat. Your hands moved to the button’s of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin on yours. He helped you and shrugged the fabric off of him, exposing his hard muscles underneath. Your fingers traced his chest, feeling how his body tensed under your touch. 

Daryl undid his belt, looking down at you as it hit the floor with a clang. He pushed his jeans down, exposing his throbbing cock. You moaned as you saw his hand move to stroke the girthy length, the tip glistened with pre-cum. He moved to position himself between your legs and rubbed the tip along your wet folds with a groan. 

“This what you want?” He questioned, his eyes scanning yours. You nodded again, your body tensing with anticipation. 

“Use your words girl” Daryl commanded you, his voice hard. 

“Yes please” you whimpered, your voice heavy with need. That was all he needed before filling you up with a slow thrust of his hips.You could feel his body tensing with the effort it was taking him not to start fucking you wildly.

“Fuck” He hissed as he completely sheathed himself inside you. He began to move, rocking his hips back and forth. Your arms reached out to his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh, his cock stretching and filling you. Daryl’s hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he thrust into you. He starts slowly, allowing your walls to mold around the shape and size of his cock. 

His dark hair falls over his face as he towers over you, pinning your body with his muscular one. “Daryl-” you whimpered, barely able to form more than one word as he continued to thrust into you.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice a low growl in your ear.

“Daryl,” you gasped out, your voice breaking as the pleasure became almost too much to bear. He rewarded you quickly by driving himself even deeper into you. His cock easily slid in and out of your slick, leaving you gripping his shoulders for support, your nails biting into his skin.

Every thrust made your body shudder, the knot in your stomach tightening with each roll of his hips. "That's it," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he kept his relentless pace. "Just like that." He groaned your name as your hips bucked up to meet his movements, loving the friction between your bodies. 

"Daryl-" You whimpered once again, feeling the pleasure building up within you. He cursed, pounding into you with a newfound intensity. His rough, calloused hands rubbed against you as he fucked you up against the wall.

"Soon," Daryl warned you as he leaned in to nip at your neck. You could feel your release building, your core tightening painfully. 

You let out a deep moan, your body shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm waved over you. Your walls clenched and throbbed around his hard cock. Seeing you unravel underneath him sent a shock through him, his hips snapping hard against your skin. His cock twitched inside you as he reached his finish. Your hips bucked against his, his body shuddering as he came deep inside you. His hot seed spilled deep inside you. His body was trembling against yours, every muscle flexing as he came down from his orgasm. 

Daryl pulled out of you, his seed dripping from your folds onto the floor as he collapsed beside you, breathing heavily. You closed your eyes tightly, your breathing ragged as you tried to catch your breath. Neither of you spoke for a moment, both of your bodies relaxing from the intense coupling. 

Daryl moved to lay next to you, his calloused hand found yours, intertwining your fingers together with surprising gentleness. "Rest," he ordered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Your eyes fluttered shut, falling into a peaceful sleep with Daryl next to you.

[javier-pena]

three's a crowd

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 9.9k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You’re in love with Frankie and he is in love with you, but you both have no idea how to act on it. Until Joel Miller comes along.

Warnings: friends to lovers | alcohol consumption | smoking | pining | jealousy | reader’s hair can get wet without it being an issue | Joel is kinda sleazy in this (but reader is very much into it) | mentions of cheating | protective Frankie | threesome m/f/(m) | a surprising amount of biting | the oral fixation in this is insane, I’m sorry | it’s all about hands and fingers | voyeurism | semi-public sex | cuck!Frankie but also not really (guess you’ll have to read it to find out what that means) | nipple play | (brief) fingering | (very brief) masturbation (m) | unprotected p in v sex | rough sex | spanking | orgasm delay | overstimulation | creampie

Notes: I started writing this fic in June and it was supposed to be a fun little summer thing and then stuff happened and now it's October - but here it finally is. There isn't really much I can say about it except that Dani @alexturner saved the whole thing by pointing out that the final fic wasn't really like what I had talked about while discussin the idea with her and after editing it, it's much, much better. I also had a lot of fun talking about Frankie's and Joel's backstory with you, Dani 🤭 maybe I'll write that one day ...

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

BEFORE

It must have been two years ago, or maybe it was three. Your hair was longer, you had just broken up with your boyfriend of five years, had just moved to a town where you didn’t know a single soul. “A fresh start is what you need.” That’s what your therapist said to you when you cried your heart out after Derek dumped you and moved in with his new girlfriend a week later. But she hadn’t been talking about this, moving halfway across the country, all the way from Maine, where the winters are cold and the air is always salty, to Texas, where it almost never snows and the tornado sirens make you run for cover.

That’s how you met Frankie, sweet, smiling Frankie. Your truck broke down in the grocery store parking lot and he jump-started it. He stuck out to you because he was wearing a pale blue baseball cap, bleached from countless summers under the hot Texan sun, and not a cowboy hat like all the other men around. You bought him dinner at that steak place that would become your favorite, and after three shots of tequila you opened up to him. He held you when you started to cry, took you home, slept on your couch when you asked him not to leave.

You’ve been friends ever since.

He showed you around San Antonio, he flew you to Enchanted Rock in a helicopter he rented, he even took you to Mexico where you found out he speaks Spanish fluently. He helped you fix the roof of your bungalow when it started leaking. You, in turn, took him to the cinema, made him watch horror movies that made him squeal, dragged him along to a rodeo, taught him how to ride a motorcycle when he told you he had always wanted to learn. The two of you just clicked. It felt right.

Now, after three years, you can’t imagine your life without Frankie in it. You don’t remember who you were before him, and you don’t want to. He’s your best friend, and you’re his. Where one of you goes, the other follows. And of course, people mistake you for a couple, of course they ask, “And what about your girlfriend here?”, they say, “You’re lucky to be dating such a nice young fella”. You always laugh, correct them lightheartedly. But sometimes you wish they were right. You love Frankie as a friend, more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but sometimes you want more.

You almost got that more about a year after meeting Frankie. One of his friends, Santi, was in town, and you went out with a group before taking advantage of the hot tub that came with Santi’s motel. There were drinks involved, one thing led to another, and suddenly you found yourself straddling Frankie, wearing nothing more than a bikini, your fingers tugging on his curls, his hands roaming all over your body. It didn’t go any further than that, and the next morning he dropped you off at your house with his usual, “See ya ‘round.” He never talked about it and neither did you. He was probably regretting it and you didn’t want to lose him over something like this, so you left it all unsaid.

He started dating someone soon afterwards, first Arabella, then Bessie, and you hated them both, even though they were probably decent women. Luckily, neither relationship lasted long because it hurt. You didn’t tell Frankie, acted perfectly civil around them, but it felt as if your heart had been dropped from a great height and had shattered against the pavement. You had to ease that pain with a couple of meaningless one-night-stands but they couldn’t take your mind off Frankie buried deep in another woman when it should have been you. And when you told him about Billy and Carson and Hank and Landon and Clara to provoke him to do something, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’m glad you had a nice evening.”

Frankie is single now, and so are you, and life is good. It isn’t always easy, but it’s a far cry from how it was in Maine. You’ve made peace with the whole Frankie situation, realizing it might just be enough knowing you’re the most important person in his life, even if you’ll never have him completely. This way, there also won’t be a messy breakup, hurtful things said in anger, actions you can never undo. You’re content with being Frankie’s best friend, and that should be enough.

It's summer now, one of the hottest on record. The AC in your bungalow broke and Frankie wanted to help you fix it, but then he got busy at work. That was almost a week ago, and you use these circumstances as an excuse to hang out at Frankie’s place as much as possible. He doesn’t mind. He has a big pool in his backyard that he always shares with you, and he loves your company. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s putting off fixing your AC on purpose.

You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, the sounds around you muffled by the water. Frankie is lounging in a chair by the side of the pool, resting in the shade after a hot day. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes are closed. That gives you the freedom to truly look, to see him how not many people are allowed to see him.

You take a deep breath and dive, floating weightlessly for a few seconds. It’s so easy to imagine this to be your life, Frankie to be your boyfriend. If he were, nothing would be different. You’d get to use your shared pool, watch him doze in the shade, help him prepare dinner later, laugh at his corny jokes … Your heart squeezes when you realize you have all of that and still it isn’t enough. What’s missing is riding him by the side of the pool, your bodies sticky with sweat. What’s missing is kissing his neck while he’s watching the brazier. What’s missing is knowing he’s yours and you’re his, come what may.

There’s a shadow by the side of the pool, and you scramble upwards, breaking through the surface with a gasp. “What?” you ask, smiling up at Frankie, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand.

Frankie gives you a thumbs up. “Just making sure you’re not drowning.”

You’re treading water as you say, “Would you jump in and rescue me if I was?”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re a better swimmer than me.”

“I’d make it worth your while.” You wink at him.

He lowers himself into a crouch so he’s closer to the surface of the water, closer to you. “How?”

“Ever heard of mouth-to-mouth?”

He laughs one of those laughs that comes from deep inside his chest and shakes his whole body. “Leave it to you to make saving someone’s life sound sexy.”

“But it is sexy,” you say emphatically. “Imagine pulling me from the pool, your big, strong arms wrapped around me. I think you’d stay calm and collected; you’d know exactly what to do. Any woman who doesn’t fall for you after that would be a fool.”

Frankie dips his fingers into the water and flicks some of it in your direction. You squeal and try to duck, but the drops still hit you in a quick shower. “Shut up,” Frankie laughs.

You use your whole hand to try and shove the water back toward him. You miss. “Stop it,” you tell him, no weight behind your words, a broad smile on your face.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don’t make me come in there, young lady.”

He always makes you laugh when he calls you that, the air of authority he puts into his words. You’re not that much younger than he is, but he always acts as if you’re 20 years his junior, while you have started calling him “gramps” to rile him up.

You propel yourself backward, away from him toward the opposite side of the pool. “You’re too chickenshit.”

“Oh, just you wait.” He starts to pull his shirt over his head, his cap that he always wears getting caught in the hem of the neckline. You really try not to but you can’t help looking at his soft belly, the white skin such a stark contrast to his tanned arms. You wonder what it would be like to touch him, what sounds he would make in response to the difference in pressure, if you were using your nails or –

“Am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

You don’t mean to, but you squeal at the sudden appearance of a strange man next to Frankie. You were so preoccupied staring at your friend you didn’t notice someone else approach.

Frankie lowers his shirt. His cheeks are slightly flushed. “Joel!”

You glance between the two men, but neither of them offers an explanation. Instead, a heavy silence settles itself over this already muggy afternoon.

Finally, the stranger, Joel, speaks. “Is this a bad time or –?”

“No, no,” Frankie quickly assures him while you bite down a harsh, “Yes, it is”. Frankie runs his palms down his shirt, trying to smooth the creased fabric. “I just … I had no idea you were in town.

“Well, I am,” Joel replies in a tone of voice that rubs you the wrong way. “I thought I’d drive by, see if you’re home.”

Frankie glances at you, seemingly only now remembering your presence. “This is Joel Miller,” he says in an oddly formal voice. “We sometimes work together.”

“Hi.” You raise your hand out of the water to wave at Joel, the smile you put on not reaching your eyes.

If you had to guess, you’d say Joel was older than Frankie by at least five years, maybe even ten. He’s taller too, broad-shouldered where Frankie tends to fold in on himself. His graying hair is slightly too long, but his graying beard makes him look handsome, especially when he gives you a twisted half-smile as if he’s fully aware of what he just interrupted and is taking pleasure in your discomfort and annoyance. You want him to leave but with a clench of your stomach you realize you also want him to stay.

“She your girlfriend?” Joel asks without pretense, nodding at you in a way that makes you clench your fists.

Frankie chuckles awkwardly, a sound you only heard a few times before and always hated. He lifts his cap with one hand to scratch his scalp, then shakes his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

Joel shifts, rolls his shoulders ever so slightly. “Nice to meet you, just friend of Frankie’s.”

Can’t say the same about you, you want to say but if there’s one thing you learned from your years spent in the south is that there is nothing more important than hospitality. “You too,” you say instead, and start kicking the water, doing laps in the pool. If you ignore him, maybe he’ll leave soon.

But Frankie opens a beer bottle for him and Joel sits down in the lawn chair next to him, taking a big swig. You try to ignore them as best as you can, but you can’t keep your ears from straining to catch snippets of their conversation.

“… between jobs … just a couple o’ nights …”

“… go out tomorrow … bar in town …”

“… broke up with me ‘cause she … her friend …”

Sometimes Frankie laughs in a way he only does when he wants to impress someone. Usually, you can see it too, usually you admire the same people but there is something about Joel that makes alarm bells ring in your head. And you don’t like the way Frankie behaves around him. You don’t want to call it submissive because you hate that word, but it feels as if he’s putting up a front for Joel, not saying what he really wants to say, not doing what he really wants to do.

But then sometimes Joel’s eyes are on you, his gaze hooded, and he doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. There is something in the brazen way he does it that makes you crave more, and you’re a little bit disgusted with yourself for wanting that. You don’t know this man, and you don’t like what you glimpsed so far, but when he asks, “Any chance of you joinin’ us, sunshine?” you’re so very tempted to say yes.

“I wanna shower first,” you answer, pushing yourself up on the edge of the pool. Joel’s eyes immediately shoot to your chest while Frankie’s are glued to his bottle, his fingers busy picking at the label.

“Don’t keep us waitin’,” Joel says in a tone of voice that grates on you and makes you tighten your jaw. You want to flip him off, and he knows it too because he raises his half-empty bottle to you. You wish Frankie would say something, or at least acknowledge your presence, but a loose thread on his jeans has caught his attention now. Your chest tightens with annoyance and, even though you’re loath to admit it, hurt, and you huff at Joel before grabbing your towel and making your way toward Frankie’s house. You feel Joel’s eyes burn a searing mark into your back.  

You have no right to feel the way you do, you tell yourself as you work shampoo into your hair. Frankie can be friends with whomever he wants to. This is his house and he can let himself be treated however he sees fit. And you’re not dependent on him to defend you against a jerk like Joel, you can manage that all on your own. Besides, it’s not as if Joel is going to be around for long, he will most likely leave after another beer or two, so there really is no reason for you to get so worked up about it.

And yet …

You turn off the water with a quick jerk of your hand.

Stepping out of the shower, locating a fresh towel, it’s like second nature to you. You briefly bury the face in the soft fabric, inhaling the clean scent of Frankie’s detergent, a scent that will always bring you comfort. Then you pull one of the several dresses you keep at Frankie’s house over your head before using the towel to superficially dry your hair. It comes away smelling like him, which sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You’ve come to terms with it, you really have. Yes, you sometimes dream about kissing him, yes, you can’t stop fantasizing about what the two of you would be like as a couple, but what you have is nice. And it feels like it should be enough, which should count for something, right?

“Took your sweet time in there, sunshine.”

You jump, only registering Joel’s presence leaning against the opposite wall as you pull the bathroom door closed behind you.

“There’s a half bath next to the kitchen,” you tell him, avoiding his searing gaze. “You know, if you need to go.”

You try to scurry down the hallway and back out into the garden, but Joel pushes himself off the wall and steps into your way. “I don’t,” he answers. “I was looking for you.”

You sigh and look up at him, hoping he’ll notice your mild annoyance. “Why?”

“Frankie’s busy with dinner.” His gaze sweeps you from your damp hair down to your bare feet, widening as he notices your dress is slightly too tight at your chest. “And you look like good company.” Before you can come up with a snide remark, he’s two steps closer and his hand is suddenly resting on your waist, his palm hot to the touch even through the fabric. “You’re certainly prettier.”

The sudden contact, his brazen approach catches you off-guard. It’s been years since a man has treated you like this, and many years more since you were free to do with that whatever you wanted.

“Come on.” Why is his voice so low suddenly? “Cat got your tongue?”

You roll your eyes. “N-”

But before you’re able to finish the second short sound, the thumb of his free hand is on your bottom lip and he starts to pull it down. “Let me check.”

Before your brain can consider all your options, you bite down on his finger, hard, out of reflex, drawing a hiss from him. He pulls back, steps away, shakes his hand. But that sleazy half-smile is still firmly fixed on his face. “Oh, you’re a little fighter, is that it?”

You take a step closer to him in an attempt to intimidate him, but he doesn’t budge. “I just don’t like it when people touch me without my permission.”

“I bet that sweet little pussy of yours is tellin’ a different tale.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shove him, both palms hitting his chest, and he loses some ground.

He tries to snatch your wrist but you’re too fast for him. “Careful, sunshine. Don’t irritate me.”

“Why?” You push your chin forward in defiance. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, I have some ideas.” Joel reaches for your waist again, but you manage to step back quickly. He balls his hand into a fist. “I just ain’t sure you’d like them very much.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“I’d like to teach you some,” he shoots back.

The sound of Frankie clearing his throat makes you jump. He’s standing behind Joel, just inside the sliding door that leads into the garden, a cocktail shaker in his hand, an apron covering his chest. “Drinks are ready,” he announces, his voice tense. Then he turns around, leaving you to wonder how long he’s been standing there and how much he heard.

Your stomach curls tightly with shame. Not because of anything he might have overheard or because of anything you did, but because you liked the way Joel talked to you, you liked that he decided he wanted you and went for it. You liked being close to him, feeling his uninvited touch on your body, hearing him say those lewd things. And all the while you forgot about Frankie, for the first time in months.

Joel glances at you and some of the shame must show on your face because he says, “If I kissed you right now, do you think he’d punch me?”

And just like that you’re back to feeling the slow grating of annoyance, like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you huff before pushing past him and stepping back out into the garden.

The evening light is softer now, the heat feels less oppressive. The sun has begun to dip toward the horizon, and Frankie’s shadow is long against the grass as he waits for you to rejoin him by the pool. You want to put on your brightest smile for him, want to show him how much you appreciate everything he is doing for you, but with him you never have to pretend. Your face lights up when you see him whether you want it to or not, your steps quicken, your heart feels full of happiness. Even someone like Joel can’t ruin that, no matter how hard he might try.

“All clean?” Frankie has a lopsided grin on his face and a martini glass in his hand. When you nod, he hands it to you. “I made it just the way you like it.”

“Thanks, honey,” you tease and playfully kiss his cheek.

“This one’s for you.” Frankie hands Joel a tumbler full of amber liquid.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Just whiskey?”

“You seem like a whiskey kinda guy,” Frankie answers with a shrug before taking off his apron and hanging it over the backrest of his lawn chair.

“What are you having?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sun loungers Frankie keeps next to the pool.

Frankie lightly shakes his beer bottle. “I’ll stick with this for now.”

You glance from him to Joel and then back to him as both men remain standing, clutching their drinks. “Well, this is nice and relaxing.”

“Sorry,” Frankie mumbles and lets himself fall back into his chair. “Long day.”

Joel chuckles and steps forward, but instead of choosing the chair next to Frankie’s, he sits down on the sunbed right next to you. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes against your naked thigh and you scoot away from him, clearing your throat. Joel doesn’t seem to have noticed; his eyes are fixed on Frankie.

“You never told me you had a nice place like this,” he says, vaguely waving his hand at the pool and the manicured lawn. “I would’ve come over much sooner.”

“Where do you live?” you ask before Frankie can say something.

Joel chuckles before taking a sip from his whiskey. “You know what would go great with this?” He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his jeans, conveniently having to lean against you to retrieve it. You push back, refusing to make yourself small. He holds the pack out to you first, but you shake your head. He doesn’t offer it to Frankie.

“She asked you a question.”

Your eyes snap from the sight of Joel lighting a cigarette, the filter hugged firmly between his lips, to Frankie, who has his elbows propped up on his knees, a thumb and forefinger wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle, holding it precariously.

Joel takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. The smoke tickles your suddenly very dry throat. “I live here and there,” he finally replies. “Wherever work takes me.”

“Okay, so where do you currently live?” you probe.

Joel waves his hand around. “Y’know …”

“What he means to say is that he’s currently between houses,” Frankie clarifies, a slight tension in his voice you haven’t heard before.

“Oh, so you’re a bum?” Is Frankie’s face lighting up with satisfaction at your comment or are you only imagining that?

Joel takes another drag. “I’m whatever you want me to be.”

It was bad enough that he had no regard for your boundaries when Frankie wasn’t right there next to you, but he can’t expect you to just take it now that Frankie is this close. You try to stand up, but his hand closes around yours and pulls you back down next to him, the force of it making some of your drink spill.

“Hey!” you protest loudly, but he only slings his arm around your shoulder.

“His girlfriend just kicked him out,” Frankie goes on, pretending he didn’t notice what just went down. “He cheated on her with her best friend.”

“Couldn’t have been a very good friend then.” You pick Joel’s heavy arm off your shoulders and let it fall down next to you.

Joel shrugs. “If I see somethin’ I want, I take it.”

“Must be lonely, going through life with that mindset,” you observe, watching him as he stubs out the cigarette against the tiles surrounding the pool.

“Depends on what you want out of life, I s’pose.”

You glance up at the slowly darkening evening sky, currently a soft, darkening blue, then take a sip from your very strong martini. “And what is that?” you ask, watching a bird glide across the sky.

“D’you wanna fuck her, Miller?”

AFTER

“Yes.” It comes out rough and breathless and eager, and suddenly your blood is rushing in your ears. You have no idea when the evening shifted to this, but you suppose it was inevitable from the moment Joel walked in. You just didn’t think Frankie would be the one to ask the question.

You glance at Frankie, sweet Frankie, who always respects you, always treats you like you’re royalty, and you see something in his gaze you’ve never seen before, a sort of strangled curiosity, like he’s desperate to find out where this might go, but unsure if he can handle the way there. You smile at him, and you nod, and his pupils dilate immediately, setting your heart pounding. That’s all he needs from you, and all you need from him.

Frankie puts his beer bottle on a small table next to his chair, leans back, crosses one leg over the other, ankle resting against his thigh. “Tough luck, pal,” he says, and next to you Joel stiffens. “You can kiss her though.”

For a moment, you’re right back there in high school, a bottle pointing at you, your friend Ines grinning at you from across the circle, Billy licking his lips nervously. But you’re all grown up now, you’ve played these games a million times, should know their rules by heart. Then why are your hands so sweaty?

Joel doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even wait for you to turn toward him. His hand is already at the back of your neck while your eyes are still on Frankie, and his lips have found yours while you’re still trying to decipher the look in Frankie’s gaze. The kiss is rough, almost unpleasantly so, and you can taste the nicotine and whiskey on Joel’s tongue that claims your mouth with hungry licks. Joel’s whole body is pushing against yours, and you push back, pressing your chest against his, making his concentration slip briefly. You use this moment of inattention to gain the upper hand and bite his lip, less violently than you bit his finger but hard enough for him to inhale sharply. Maybe even hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

Joel shifts, tightens his hold on your neck, and pushes up against you even more, like he’s trying to get you to lie down and submit to him. Resisting his efforts gives you a feeling of power you’re unable, maybe even unwilling, to control. You’re still trying to come to terms with the newness of the situation, with the shift that has taken place, but you know exactly what you want, and that is not to give up one inch to Joel without making him work hard for it.

Joel’s hand is on your naked thigh now, tough callouses rubbing against smooth skin. Just like his kisses, it almost feels too violent, but then you remember Frankie’s hands roaming your body in that hot tub, the way the water hadn’t managed to soften his skin. You remember how much you wanted him that night, and suddenly you wish Joel would touch you more.

As if he can read your thoughts, Joel’s hand is suddenly at the underside of your breast, cupping it through the fabric of your dress, his thumb finding the nipple so confidently as if he has touched you a million times before. Your body responds to the touch immediately and you lean into it, your lips parting in a stifled moan. The pad of his thumb rubs across your hardening nipple, rolls it through the dress and the bra you’re wearing, and you should push him away, make him feel like his efforts are futile and he has no effect on you whatsoever, but it’s been too long. Too fucking long. You’re on fire, unpleasantly so, feeling like you’re burning up too fast, like the flames have barely touched you and you’re already turning to ash. You press yourself into Joel’s touch as your jaw slackens, and he grabs your breast and squeezes it roughly while pushing his tongue into your mouth with the sole intent of making you gag.

“Hey!” Frankie’s voice is sharp, but when you flinch away from Joel and glance over at him, he’s still sitting in his chair holding his bottle of beer.

Your ears feel hot with shame as you refuse to acknowledge Joel’s presence and avoid Frankie’s gaze. Frankie was the one to suggest the kiss, Joel made the first move – then why do you feel such shame? Like you’ve been caught cheating? Why do you feel it’s wrong to –

“What?” Joel asks, interrupting the spiral you’re about to slide down.

Frankie squeezes the neck of the bottle, his skin making a wet sound against the glass. “We said kiss.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that sleazy smirk return to Joel’s lips. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little second base.”

Frankie seems to consider this, his eyes fixed to the ground beneath his feet. You wish you could tell what was going on in his mind, but your heart is still racing like you’re being hunted for sport and your body is screaming for Joel to put his hands on you again, and all of that is too much to read Frankie.

Frankie holds out a hand to Joel. “Cigarette,” he says, and Joel obliges. You watch Frankie light it up and take a deep drag, a sight so unfamiliar it makes you eager to commit it to memory. “So you really wanna fuck her then?” he finally asks.

There is a pressure low in your abdomen that makes you shift against the lounger.

Joel only laughs, crude and hoarse, as if deigning that question with an answer is below him. “Where did you get that idea from?”

Frankie takes another drag, a short one this time, before glancing directly at Joel’s crotch. You follow his gaze to find a bulge there, one that definitely wasn’t there before, straining against the stiff fabric. When Joel’s eyes find yours, you make sure he sees you lick your lips. His jaw twitches.

Frankie leans back comfortably in his chair, some of the ash from the cigarette landing on his pants. He brushes it off with a flick of his wrist. “I’ll let you fuck her. But you’re gonna do exactly as I say.”

You think you must have entered a parallel universe or another dimension. For a short while at least. None of it makes sense: the cigarette in Frankie’s hand, the way he talks and what he says, that man next to you who is nothing more than a stranger, who had his tongue in your mouth two minutes ago, and that all of this makes you wetter than you can ever remember being. But then Frankie’s eyes meet yours, dark pupils blown unfamiliarly wide, and yet there is something in them you recognize – this isn’t a stranger who is looking at you, this is your best friend. No matter what happens next, he’s going to look out for you. All you need to do is trust him.

Next to you, Joel shifts, adjusting his crotch. He licks his lips. “Yeah.” He nods. “Okay.”

Your eyes are on Frankie now, heart racing in your chest, mouth completely dry, as you wait for what comes next. Your brain is running hot trying to go through all the possibilities of what Frankie could have Joel do to you, but all you come back to is Frankie kneeling in front of you, spreading your legs. Joel is nothing more than a shadow beside you, watching with a hungry gaze.

Frankie leans forward and reaches out his hand as if he means to touch you, but then stops himself and leans back. “You don’t have to do as you’re told.” The softness in his voice catches you by surprise, but he goes on before you can analyze it. “To start, do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You glance at Joel, at how stiff his shoulders are, and you face him, trembling fingers pulling his shirt up where it is tugged into his jeans. Up and up you pull it until he has to raise his arms for you to get it off, and then you finally see his body betray his nerves as his chest flushes a deep red. There is a scar on his left collarbone, old and slightly brighter than the skin around it, there are some sparse, dark gray hairs on his chest, and his stomach is so much firmer than Frankie’s, so much less inviting.

Joel huffs and your gaze shoots back up to his face. “Kinda boring, don’t ya think? Pullin’ off my shirt when you could’ve done anythin’ to me?”

You won’t let him get to you, not like that, not when Frankie’s eyes are on you. “There’s no shame in me enjoying myself by taking things slow,” you retort. “I know your first move would’ve been to stuff two fingers into me but where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, you’re gonna see where the fun in that is when you’re comin’ ‘round ‘em,” he replies with that infuriatingly sleazy smile darkening his face.

You lean in just a tiny bit closer. “Only if Frankie lets you.” God, that thought turns you on so much your head starts to spin.

Once you recover, Joel’s right hand is cupping your jaw, his grip firm, while his thumb rests against your lips. “Someone should stuff that mouth o’ yours.”

You open your mouth then, until his thumb is only pressing against your bottom lip. You let it slide in past your teeth until you can feel it on your tongue, heavy, tasting like nicotine. You close your lips around the digit and suck on it, your cheeks hollowing, your tongue massaging it. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. Somewhere to your right, you hear Frankie’s chair groan.

The sound of Frankie’s voice interrupts you. “I want you to take off her dress.”

With a wet plop, Joel pulls his thumb out of your mouth and then starts pulling at the straps of your sundress, pushing them down your shoulders.

“Slowly,” Frankie adds, his voice calm as if he’s talking to a semi-feral animal.

Joel moves you so both your feet are planted firmly on the ground, then shifts so he’s behind you. He finds the zipper at the back of your dress and begins to pull it down, torturously slowly as if there is something he wants to prove to Frankie. As more and more of your skin is revealed, he brushes over it, calloused fingers making you shiver. His hands feel so much like Frankie’s, and yet not at all like him. Frankie would be soft and gentle too, but he wouldn’t scrape you with his short nails, he wouldn’t tremble like it takes everything in him not to devour you whole.

The fabric of your dress glides down your shoulders and back, and comes to rest around your hips. It isn’t anything Frankie hasn’t seen before – your breasts are still covered, after all – and yet there is something in his gaze when you look at him, a strange kind of longing, like desire that has been kept in check for so long it has become second nature to him. You can see it in the flare of his nostrils, in the darkening of his eyes, in the way his bottom lip trembles briefly before he darts out his tongue to wet it. And yet he sits there, watching, his body unmoving like it has been trained not to give in.

“Take off her bra.”

Even Frankie’s voice is controlled and even. You shift, pulling back your shoulders and pushing out your chest in an attempt to get him to break, but his gaze shifts from you to Joel as he waits for the other man to follow his orders. Joel doesn’t need to be told twice. He flicks open the clasp at your back with one hand and your bra falls away. You push out your chin, willing your face not to heat up.

Frankie’s throat works as he swallows, a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall he has put up. “You’re perfect …” His voice, too, cracks on the second syllable and he coughs. “Wouldn’t you agree, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply. Instead, he cups one of your breasts again and squeezes the nipple tightly between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch you back as a small stab of pain shoots through you. Now that the protective barrier of fabric is gone, you can feel just how rough his skin is against your sensitive spots, how his callouses catch in places your own fingers smoothly glide over. Your head falls back against his shoulder as he pinches your nipple again, as he begins to roll it roughly, pull on it from time to time to hear you hiss.

Joel’s chest rises and falls against your back, hot skin pressing into hot skin, his breath caressing the back of your neck. He runs his nose from your earlobe all the way down to your shoulder, then back up again, but before he reaches the starting point, he sinks his teeth into your neck and bites down, drawing a shivering gasp from you. And then he doesn’t let go. He bites down harder, holding you in place, while cupping your breast with his entire hand, kneading it until your world tilts.

You’re not aware of how desperate you are to find purchase, but the garden and the pool and the sky above right themselves when your hand finds Joel’s thigh. The denim is rough beneath your palm, but he is a rough man so it doesn’t surprise you. What does surprise you though is how hard you have to fight to keep yourself from bucking your hips.

“Joel, stop.”

For just a short little while you had forgot Frankie is there with you, but his voice reminds you with brute force. And when Joel does as he’s told and you are left with nothing to distract you, all you can do is look at your best friend, at his fingers wrapped around that cigarette, and wonder what it would feel like to have him play with your nipple instead of Joel. The painful way your heart constricts at that thought utterly catches you by surprise.

Frankie takes a final drag on his cigarette, flicks the butt away, and clears his throat. “You’ll only do what I tell you to do.”

You shift, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against your clit sending a bolt of desperation through you, mixing with that unbearable longing to create a heady, dangerous cocktail. “Frankie, please.”

Frankie takes you in, and you have no idea what he sees, but he runs his thumb across his bottom lip and asks, “Do you want him to touch you?”

Joel runs his fingers up and down your arm, his touch so light it feels like torture. You try to squirm away but he keeps you trapped against his chest.

You exhale shakily. “Yeah.” There’s a brief moment of hesitation, one that makes your heart flutter as you decide whether you should keep going. You do. “God, I’m so wet.”

Joel’s wandering fingers close around your upper arm like a vise.

But Frankie keeps up his walls. “Show me how wet she is, Joel.”

You don’t think there has ever been a moment in your life where you were more turned on, a single moment where you were less in control of your body and your desires. You try to stand up, your legs trembling like you just finished a marathon, hands wrapped around your dress, ready to pull it all the way down. Joel doesn’t even let you straighten your back. He pulls you back against his chest and wraps an arm around yours before running his free hand down your stomach, not seductively or teasingly but as if he has a task to fulfill. You’ve barely registered the sensation of his fingers against your lower stomach before he has pushed them past the fabric bunched around you hips and into your underwear, and this time you lose the battle against your own body. You roll your hips into his touch as your eyes flutter shut, you push and push, moans and whimpers urging him on. He doesn’t need to be encouraged – he rolls your clit beneath his index finger, just like he rolled your nipple, before dipping it lower, pushing past the muscles at your opening and up into you.

Before you can make sense of it all, he removes his hand and holds up two fingers right in front of your eyes, glistening with your slick. Your chest heaving, you try to catch your breath.

Frankie’s eyes are wide open. “What does she taste like?” he asks, his voice rough as if he hasn’t used it in quite some time.

Joel rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger, toying with your slick. “Don’t you want to find out for yourself?”

Frankie nods so slightly you can’t be sure it really happens, then hides behind a smirk, and you feel something unbearably insisting curl up tightly in the pit of your stomach. “You tell me.”

Suddenly, Joel’s fingers are at your lips, pushing into your mouth. You open up, surprised by the sudden intrusion, and then his thick digits are pressing down against your tongue, making you gag. Tears are filling your eyes, and spit drips out of your mouth as you feel Joel’s hot breath against the shell of your ear.

“Tell him.”

You can’t, not even if you wanted to. Not because you can’t taste yourself on Joel’s skin, not because you can’t talk with his fingers filling up your mouth, but because Frankie flies out of his chair, brow furrowed and fists clenched. Before he can come to your aid, you close your hand around Joel’s wrist and push his fingers even deeper into your mouth, not breaking eye contact with Frankie, not even for a split second.

Joel presses down against your tongue and you suck on his fingers eagerly, but none of that matters to you. The only thing you care about is the red flush creeping up Frankie’s neck and into his cheeks, and the way he keeps closing the distance between the three of you until he’s standing right there, close enough for you to reach out and run your hands up and down his thigh.

Frankie’s hand is warm and heavy as it closes around yours, pulling Joel’s fingers out of your mouth. You gasp, unable to prevent a thin thread of spit from connecting your lips to Joel’s hand. It winks out of existence a second later when Frankie’s mouth clashes against yours, drawing another gasp from you, one that releases months and months of pent-up longing, one that originates deep in your chest but almost dies on your lips, stifled by wonder.

It isn’t a soft kiss, it isn’t even particularly well executed since your teeth clash painfully and Frankie pushes too hard too quickly. He also tastes more like Joel than himself, of beer and cigarettes, but none of that matters. He could have given you a small peck on the cheek and it would have been the greatest kiss you had ever shared with anyone. You feel his breath against your cheek, a shaky exhale, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself fisting his shirt, fingers clenched so tightly you will never be able to let go again. That is all you ever wanted, all you ever prayed for, and now that you have it, you never want to lose it again.

Eventually, Frankie pulls back ever so slightly and whispers against your lips, “Summer, that’s what you taste like,” and it’s such a corny line it should have you rolling your eyes, but instead you crane your neck and seal your lips to his again, high from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth. He huffs and pushes up against you, but he’s not close enough – there’s still so much space between you. You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt and pull him even closer, but suddenly rough hands grab your arms and hold you back forcefully.

“I wanna go first.” It isn’t a request, that much is clear.

Frankie pulls back and smiles down at you, his face soft and open, searching for any indication you don’t want to do this anymore. Even though you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him right now, the thought of him watching while Joel fucks you, utterly in control of the situation, makes you clench around nothing. Frankie can tell – he switches back to his neutral mask in the matter of a second. “You didn’t do as you were told …”

It isn’t a threat, but it might as well be.

Joel hooks a thumb into your mouth and pulls down your bottom lip. You try to bite him again, but he is prepared this time, holding you in place. “Let me come in her mouth at least.”

Frankie grabs Joel’s wrist again and pulls his hand away from your face. “No.”

You have never heard him use that voice before, that kind of voice that makes you snap to attention, that voice that commands people to follow him. You shift, trying to rub your thighs together, but it’s just a primal reaction you have no control over. All your attention is on Joel trying to pull his wrist out of Frankie’s grip, and on Frankie holding him in place, the muscles in his arm straining.

“I’m going to sit back down, and you’re going to fuck her.” Frankie’s voice is so calm it sends a shiver down your spine. “Slowly,” he adds, letting go of Joel’s wrist. “And if you make her come before I tell you to, there’ll be consequences.”

Every muscle in your body tightens. You’re too wound up to rationally consider what Frankie is proposing, too wound up to think about how much you want this and what that might mean. You glance behind you to catch Joel’s reaction, to see if he’s just as affected by Frankie’s proposition as you are, just in time to watch him lick his lips.

“And I get to fuck her however I want?”

Frankie’s gaze shifts to you. It’s nothing more than a glance, a quick check-in, and you nod, just as quickly, just as imperceptibly.

“Yes,” Frankie answers.

Next thing you know, you’re up on the lounger, knees and hands braced against the soft pillows, faded from long summers under the hot Texan sun, focusing on the sounds of Joel unbuckling his belt. You feel your throat tighten at those sounds, leather scraping against skin, metal clicking against metal, but your mouth is too dry to swallow. Joel unzips his jeans, then there’s a rustling sound, followed by a deep, needy groan. It’s enough to make your heartbeat stumble over itself with excitement. You try to turn your head and glance behind you to see what he is doing, but Joel catches your movement and forces your head down, firm grip at the back of your skull.

“Stay.”

To your right, you hear the sound of Frankie shifting in his chair. He doesn’t intervene.

Joel grabs the bunched-up fabric of your dress with both hands and begins to tear it with quick, jerking movements, ruining it. It falls away and glides down to the ground where it comes to rest next to the lounger, leaving you almost completely exposed to Joel. And Joel doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the thin fabric of your underwear aside and sinks into you with one deep, calculated thrust you can feel in your chest.

Your fists clenched, your head hanging low, you try to take it, but his thrusts send shudders of pain up and down your body. It’s not unbearable, and it shouldn’t surprise you; he fucks like he does everything else – rough and with an edge of violence to it – but the stretch is uncomfortable, and the thrusts are greedy, so much so you wish he had surprised you after all.

“Slow down,” Frankie orders, and you lift your eyes to him. A muscle twitches in his jaw, and when Joel does as he’s told, he watches you closely, searching your face for any signs of the discomfort lessening. You shift, your body adjusting to the feeling of being so full, and when Frankie asks, his voice low, “You okay?” you realize that you are. You’re more than okay, actually. Two more shallow thrusts from Joel and you’re completely relaxed.

“Yeah,” you answer, just for Frankie to hear and his lips quirk up in a smile.

“We’re good,” he tells Joel.

Joel’s open palm lands against your ass cheek catching you unawares, as does the moan you let loose at the sudden burst of pain. Frankie swallows, or at least you think he does – you can’t be sure with your eyes flutterin shut. You push back against Joel, eager for more, pulling him deeper inside of you with a greedy clench.

“The way you’re clenchin’ ‘round me makes me think you’ve never had dick before.”

Joel’s voice comes out restrained, the words are punctuated by more slaps, one harder than the last. Their meaning is lost on you as you are reduced to a babbling mess, unable to retain anything that is happening outside of your desire for him. You gush around his cock, hot and wet and wanton, and somewhere between the thrusts and the grunts, you hear a chortle.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t ya.”

That chortle is what pulls you back into yourself, and you risk another glance behind you, hoping that this time he will let you see. He does, and you watch him pound into you, both hands on your hips, denim pulled just low enough to free his cock, dark hairs curling just above it, streaked with bulging veins. He has one knee braced against the lounger, one foot firmly planted on the ground. You almost hate yourself for being so affected by that sight, but you can feel everything tighten, your body begging for release.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice breathy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna –”

With a condescending smirk, Joel reaches for your clit. “Go ahead, sunshine.”

You close your eyes, focusing on how you’re clenching around him. You’re so, so close, you can almost taste the release on your tongue. Your mouth hangs open, a moan begins to emerge from someplace deep inside your chest and –

Joel’s hips falter and still, and you can feel yourself flutter desperately around him, but it’s not enough. You glide along his length, coming down from the edge, frustration blossoming in the pit of your stomach. Joel’s fingers rest uselessly against your swollen clit, still as the rest of him, and whenever you try to grind yourself against them, his touch lessens.

“Joel …,” you whine, opening your eyes to look back at him.

It’s not Joel your gaze lands on. It’s Frankie, standing right there next to the lounger, one hand on Joel’s head, fisting his hair, pulling on it so his chin is raised high, his neck exposed, a thick vein pulsing near its base. Joel is breathing heavily, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to free himself, while Frankie looks down at him, darkness clouding his features.

“You’ll do as I tell you or I won’t let you come inside of her.”

Frankie lets go of Joel’s hair with a shove to drive home the point. Even now, freed from his restraint, Joel doesn’t fight back. He glares at Frankie as if he’s imagining beating him bloody, but he does like he’s told, removing his fingers from your clit to dig them back into your hip. He picks up the pace again, thrusts a little shallower than before, drawing a sigh of relief from you, scratching that undefinable itch Frankie restraining Joel like that triggered in you. That itch you don’t want to examine too closely right now but that you know you’ll return to.

Frankie pats Joel’s shoulder, two firm raps against the straining muscles. “Good boy.”

You clench so hard around Joel he must notice, but he doesn’t remark on it. He resumes the steady snapping of his hips while your eyes fall shut and drop down to your elbows, those two words floating around your mind like an echo.

Good boy.

A desperate little whimper escapes you, one at least Frankie seems to hear, because he runs two knuckles up and down your spine in a movement that is meant to calm you but shoves you toward the edge with a violent jolt. He must know what he’s doing to you, there is no way he hasn’t noticed. And it should fill you with shame, it should make you resent him, the way you lie bare before him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, but it only makes you want him more. You open your eyes to find him standing right next to you. This close, you can see how tight his pants stretch over the bulge you hadn’t noticed before, how you think you can even make out a dark spot of precum forming against the fabric. You lick your lips.

“Frankie, please.” Your voice is rough and broken, laced with desperation.

Joel shoves into you so violently you feel the thrust in your throat, but he doesn’t say anything.

Frankie leans down and places a soft kiss against your temple, then runs his thumb across your furrowed brow. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You whish you could tell him you’ve been ready ever since he suggested Joel should fuck you, but you can only laugh, a broken sound followed by a hard swallow.

Frankie straightens his back, his eyes bright with excitement. “I see.” He makes his way back over to his chair and sits down, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “Go ahead, Joel.”

Joel picks up the pace, making every thought, every doubt you might have, instantly disappear from your head. His fingers find your clit again, rubbing you hard, and after that it doesn’t take long at all. After that, you let out a deep moan and push back against Joel so hard it makes him lose his rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. You’re coming, pulling him deeper into you as he fucks you through it, letting you squeeze him as you sink deep into pleasure, losing track of your body’s movements.

You come back to the surface when you’re spent, and everything feels sore and tender, but Joel doesn’t stop. There is a burning between your legs now and you hiss, reaching back for him.

Frankie is there next to you again, cupping your cheek. You have no idea when he approached, what made him leave his role as spectator this time, but you instantly relax when you feel his touch on him. “Just a little more,” he murmurs, calming you. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You watch him squeeze the bulge in his pants, and giving it another, harder squeeze when Joel grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back. The proof of how much he’s affected by you is enough to chase away the discomfort and rekindle the fire in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes glued to the bulge in Frankie’s pants you wonder what it would be like to feel him thrust into you, chasing his release, to feel him take what he needed from your body, fueled by how much you want him in return.

Finally, Joel stills and spills into you, groaning as his orgasm sparks through him. But your eyes are locked to Frankie’s, as neither of you dares to look away.

THE OUTCOME

The neon sign of the motel casts deep shadows into the cabin of Frankie’s pickup. Your gaze is fixed to the flashing letters, promising vacancy. A car rushes past, its tires whispering against the concrete, still hot from the Texan summer day. You try to ignore the tightness in your stomach, but when a door falls shut with a rattling bang somewhere nearby, you feel that sound like a punch to your gut.

“That was fun,” Joel says from the backseat. He stretches his legs, kicking his foot against your backrest. “If you ever wanna repeat that …” He lets the offer hang there in the air between you.

Frankie grabs the steering wheel tightly, the wood groaning under his skin. “We’ll know where to find you,” he finishes the sentence.

Joel braces both hands against your backrest and leans forward so his lips are close to your ear. “I think I’ll stick around for a while, so if you ever wanna grab some drinks, sunshine …”

Only half-listening, you reply, “Whatever,” fighting down the nausea you’ve been feeling ever since you climbed into Frankie’s truck.

“Whatever,” Joel echoes with a huff, opens the backdoor, and climbs out. “You know, I’ve had better,” he adds, before shutting the door with a loud bang.

“Hey!” Frankie barks, but you shake your head, and Frankie lets him walk away.

It doesn’t matter what Joel says to you. You couldn’t care less. Because as soon as Frankie starts the car, he’ll drive it straight over to your place, say goodnight without really looking at you, and tomorrow, he’ll pretend that none of this happened. Just like he did before. And as much as you hate that thought, you’re going to have to live with it.

As Joel climbs the stairs to the second-floor landing of the motel, you say, “You’ll want to take me home now, right?” It’s best to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The wood groans again, but this time from Frankie loosening his grip. He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his ruffled curls. You don’t look at him, but you study him out of the corner of your eye, trying to read his face. He puts the cap back on, then slings his arm across the backrest of your seat. “Actually … I was hopin’ you’d come back to my place.”

The nausea you’ve been feeling pricks up its ears with interest and then curls up into a tiny ball, tugged away in a corner of your stomach. “Oh?” you say. And that’s all you manage before he closes the distance between you, his left hand cupping your jaw, his lips brushing against yours, tentatively, asking for permission. You give it to him by fisting his shirt, pulling him toward you, by smiling against his lips, exhaling all the tension in one short giggle, full of relief. He strokes his thumb across your cheek at the same time as you open up for him so he can brush his tongue against yours. You find yourself mirroring him, hand on his cheek, thumb running over the stubble there, relishing the feeling of him being so close.

You pull away first, and he follows you, mouth slightly open, chasing another taste. “What are we gonna do at your place? Do you have more friends who want to fuck me while you watch?” you ask, high from the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, from that promise that he won’t forget about any of this in the morning.

A neon flash lights up Frankie’s face, once, twice, as you watch his cheeks darken with a flush. He takes his time, studying your face closely. “No,” he says, his voice a low rumble, so unfamiliar it draws a smile from him, “I want to fuck you myself.”

If you enjoyed the fic, I'd love to hear from you 🥰 feel free to leave a comment or drop into my inbox anytime ...

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[orionremastered]

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write the boys like🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

why thank you anon this made me smile

and because im nice (school hasn't started yet)

Masterlist

911 Texting the Batboys

Dick Grayson

Exactly one minute after you send him the text, the living room window shatters into a million pieces across the floor. Nightwing calls your name, voice raw with concern, before surveying the state of your apartment.

"Oh," you say quietly by the kitchen, staring at the broken pieces of glass across the floor and then at your boyfriend who stares at you, chest heaving as he looks at you, confused.

"You're not hurt?"

"Well— I— the pan caught fire. I put it out though. I'm not burnt, I promise."

He looks at you doubtfully, storming over before pulling you into a tight embrace. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be. It's okay. Don't be scared to text me if you're in any trouble. Promise you'll let me know if you're in danger?"

"I promise."

"Good," he mutters, though more as a reassurance for himself, resting his head on yours and breathing deeply.

"You can let me go now," you point out gently.

"Two more minutes."

Jason Todd

When your boyfriend takes longer to show up than expected, you start to get confused. And cold— it's the middle of winter and your hoodie was stolen while you were out with your friends.

And that wouldn't be a problem if you're car wasn't starting either.

The familiar roar of a motorcycle engine catches your attention, dark shape speeding down the street towards you. It skids to a stop, the tires screeching in order to slow.

"Hey," you say with a wave and a smile. "Car broke down and—"

Red Hood rushes off his motorbike, carefully grabbing you to look you over in the empty street. When he finds nothing, he sighs. "Thought you'd been kidnapped. Couldn't find you at your apartment."

Without waiting for your reply, he shrugs his brown leather jacket off his shoulders and places it around yours, helping you put your arms into the sleeves despite you protesting that you can do it yourself.

"Let's get you home," he says gruffly, aching to hold you in his embrace when no one can see. "I'll call in a favour to get your car fixed."

Tim Drake

You don't think you'd ever been more embarrassed in your life when you realised you forgot your phone, which has your card in the case, at home.

Tim rushes into the store, having tracked your location immediately and driving well over the speed limit, still in his pristine CEO outfit.

"What's wrong? Is someone bothering you?" his eyes dart around the store, taking everyone's face and putting it to memory.

"No... I forgot my phone and card. And I have a full cart of groceries. Tim, I can't put this all back, that's weird."

"Why didn't you ask me to pay before?"

"I— hmm. I'll do that next time."

You lead him to the counter were the high school aged cashier gapes at the richest man in Gotham who pays for the food without even glancing at the price.

Damian Wayne

When you texted 911 to your boyfriend, you certainly weren't expecting this. Somehow, in the five minutes of the text being sent, he managed to gather ten League of Assassins members that now stand in your suddenly very cramped apartment, sharp katanas at their side.

"Are you alright?" Damian himself has two katanas, glinting in the terrible lights. "What's wrong?"

It seems so stupid now with ten assassins behind him. Maybe you shouldn't have texted after all. "Look, it's really—"

"I don't care how little it is," he states, "You texted me for a reason."

"I... I thought I could hear someone talking and moving in the walls."

All eleven of them tense, exchanging glances. Damian gives them one sharp nod and the assassins begin locating any hollow spaces in the walls, tapping their knuckles and listening closely to the sounds.

"وجدت ذلك," one says after a few seconds.

"Don't worry about it habibi, we'll tear the building apart and find them," Damian assures you, pulling you into his arms.

[cactus-cuddler]

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 ✭ 𝑨𝒕𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub! virgin female reader

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Plot: There is no specific plot. Bucky and the reader like tease and are both dangerously attracted to each other

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: explicit sex, use of nicknames as "good girl", "slut" and "whore". Daddy kink and dirty talk. I don't think there are any other warnings.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k (sorry)

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ Author's note: sorry for any mistakes that may be there, English is not my first language! And sorry if the scenes may be badly written, it's been a long time since I wrote a smut between a woman and a man.

I write this ff because today I turn 18 (Happy Birthday to me!!) and I want so sign it. From today I can interact with all the "minor DNI" posts!!

I don't care if you are minors, read it if you want <3 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

James Buchanan Barnes. The very mention of this name can make your heart race, recalling his powerful presence, his toned physique, and the intense gaze he fixes on you whenever your paths cross. Your thoughts often wander to him, an obsession that fills your mind in the quietest hours of the night.

Yet, despite the thoughts that consume you, you're still a virgin. You’ve never found someone you were willing to give your heart to, let alone something more intimate. You've had relationships, but each time, you’ve held back, refusing to let things go beyond harmless flirtation. The thought of being vulnerable like that has always kept you at a distance. But with him, it’s different. There’s something about Bucky that makes you reconsider everything.

Your relationship with Bucky is hard to define. Sometimes you get along well, but other times, you find yourself wishing he would just disappear. And then there are moments when you wish he’d stop arguing with you altogether, using his frustration in ways that words can’t express. Is that too much to ask?

You’re curled up on your couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and a blanket to ward off the winter chill. As you flip through the channels, trying to find something to watch, your phone buzzes with incoming messages. Seeing his name on the screen sends a pang through your chest.

Teasing him has always been your favorite game. You start a random movie, not really caring about the plot, as you wait for him to arrive. The distant sound of a motorcycle engine signals that you're in trouble now.

When the doorbell rings, you open it, quickly masking your excitement. He’s standing there in his pajamas, and you can’t help but giggle. His pants have a childish space motif, and the matching sweatshirt does nothing to diminish his appeal. You’re wrapped in a blanket, so you're not much better off in his eyes.

"Popcorn?" he asks, and you invite him in. As he sees the movie already playing, he reminds you of his earlier request. You shrug and sit on the couch, munching on the popcorn he brought.

“You’re a bad girl,” he says, taking the remote to choose something else to watch.

“Just the way you like them,” you reply with a smirk.

You and Bucky work together in the same company, nothing out of the ordinary. You handle the computers and accounting, while Bucky works with metal. His vibranium arm would be perfect for his job, but he rarely uses it. "Oops, I’m right-handed, I do it without thinking," he says when someone asks why he doesn’t use his more powerful arm. You’ve seen how he looks at women, and it stirs something within you—a mix of jealousy and curiosity.

You first started talking after you accidentally spilled coffee on his white shirt a few months ago. To make amends, you offered to clean it, using a trick you’d read in a 1950s magazine titled "How to Be the Perfect Housewife." Not that you’re aiming for that role; you detest the idea of being confined by outdated gender roles. Patriarchy is disgusting! You would never want to marry a man in your life who confines you to a house with four children, a dog, three cats and a cactus to take care of alone.

Your conversations started off innocent enough, but things took a turn when you began texting late into the night. You both started teasing each other, pushing boundaries just to see how far the other would go. It became a game, one where neither of you wanted to lose face, even as feelings began to creep in.

So, how did he end up at your place tonight? You’re not sure, and it worries you. He’s never been to your house before. Sure, he’s given you rides home after work, a habit that started after the coffee incident. It became a routine, all because you playfully challenged his chivalry. “You? A gentleman? Don’t make me laugh,” you had texted him one morning. That very day, he was waiting outside your building, opening the car door for you. "It doesn’t mean anything," you had said to him in thanks. But tonight feels different.

The movie he picks is just awful. It’s filled with scenes of sex without sense.

“Is this too much for you? Should I change it?” he asks each time, and you just shake your head. In your life you see, read and write stuff more scandalous.

“How boring, if done like this even sex becomes boring," Bucky complains about another sex scene with the missionary position.

“You talk big, but I bet you couldn’t do any better,” you say, challenging him, not realizing what you’ve just started.

“With just one touch, I could make you scream my name,” he says, his voice low and intense. You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you’re not backing down.

“I’d like to see you try,” you whisper, the challenge clear in your voice.

He looks at you, his gaze lingering, but then he sighs and turns back to the movie. “I’m a gentleman,” he says softly. “I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

You feel a wave of frustration, mixed with a sense of longing that you can’t quite shake. You don’t want him to be a gentleman; you want him to see you as more. You’re a ruthless woman, you won’t give up easily. If you are not satisfied with him, well you will do it yourself. In front of his eyes.

You take off your blanket and lift your shirt up to your hips and pull your panties off throwing them on the floor. You lie down on your back and put your feet on his knees. You put two fingers in your mouth and suck them in front of him. ‘He provoked me’. You repeat yourself so you don’t feel guilty about what you’re about to do.

You do small circular movements on your clit and slowly start to sigh for the pleasure you are causing yourself.

“Bucky..." you say between moaning as you start to penetrate your little cunt with two fingers. Bucky is doing everything he can to hold himself back. His erection thills in his boxer asking to be released and enjoy for you and your warmth however he does not want to give up. It will not look but has solid moral principles and not taking your virginity is one of those.

“Bucky… please fuck me with your cock,” you say clenching your couch with fingers to hold back your spasms. This provocation has hit the mark, his erection is now painful and not releasing it could drive him crazy. Reach out to your face, sweat drops are playing on your forehead. He orders you to sit down and you perform. You are sitting one next to the other and you have your leg over his to allow him free access to your pussy.

"I won’t take your virginity," he announces by passing his thumb along your big lips. An unsatisfied grunt comes out of your lips, you want more. Much more than that.

“Why not?" you complain "I want you Bucky, I want to shout your name" add grumbling.

"It would be a nice show, believe me sweetheart but I can’t deprive you of your first time with someone you love," he says. In a flash all the previous excitement fades away as if in a spell. You close your legs and ask him to leave. "You can’t decide what’s right or wrong for me" you told him by pulling out your voice. He’s made his choice, and for tonight, that will have to be enough.

As he leaves, you find yourself wondering what it would take to bridge the gap between you. Because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want more from him, and you’re not sure how much longer you can wait.

The next morning, you wake up hoping that the night with Bucky was just a bad dream—a nightmare you could shake off with a shiver. But as you lie there, staring at the ceiling, you realize that it was all too real. The memory comes rushing back: you, vulnerable and exposed, touching yourself in front of him, moaning his name, only to be met with rejection. Your cheeks flush with a mix of shame and frustration. How could I have let myself go like that?

But there’s another thought that creeps in, unbidden. Despite everything, a part of you finds it almost sweet that Bucky doesn’t want to take your virginity unless it’s something more than just lust. He wants you to save it for someone you truly love. But the truth is, you do want it. You want him. The image of his lips on yours, his hands exploring every inch of your body, flashes through your mind, and you feel a pang of desire so intense it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve fantasized about him for so long—wondered if he could fulfill the dark, desperate needs you’ve kept buried. You’re sure you wouldn’t regret giving him your first time, so why should he?

‘Maybe he doesn’t want me,’ you think suddenly, the possibility of hitting you like a bucket of cold water. ‘Maybe I’m just a game to him, someone he can tease and torment without ever really wanting.’ The thought is unbearable, twisting in your gut like a knife.

You force yourself out of bed, deciding that you won’t let these thoughts ruin your day. Before work, you brew a hot cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will give you the energy you need to push through. You can’t face Bucky today—not after last night. Instead, you opt for your favorite mode of transport, the one so many dismiss as the “poor man’s commute.” But you’ve always found the train comforting, a place where you can disappear into your thoughts without the pressure of small talk or the need to keep up appearances.

The ride is uneventful, the rhythmic clatter of the train soothing your nerves somewhat. When you arrive at your stop, your office is just a short walk away. You’re early—too early, really—so you take your time, letting your mind wander as you stroll. The morning air is crisp, and the world feels strangely peaceful. ‘Why can’t my mind be this calm?’ you wonder, but of course, it’s not that simple. Last night’s events linger, casting a shadow over everything.

Just as you’re about to step inside, your phone rings, the sound jolting you out of your thoughts. His name flashes on the screen, and your heart skips a beat. What does he want now?

"Y/N, come down now or we'll be late!" Bucky's voice snaps through the line, sharp with irritation. You can almost see the frown on his face, the way his brows would knit together. But with a calmness that surprises even you, you tell him you're already at the office, having taken the train.

"I hope you're joking," he growls, his voice low and husky, sending a familiar shiver down your spine. Even when he's angry, it's a voice that could melt you.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," you reply, hanging up before he can say more. The truth is, you didn't want to face him this morning, not after last night. The thought of seeing his cold blue eyes, remembering how they watched you with a mix of desire and restraint, makes your chest tighten.

You greet your colleagues warmly, slipping on your glasses as you sit at your desk, but your mind is elsewhere. The memory of Bucky's gaze, the way his hand almost trembled before he pulled away from you, keeps playing on a loop.

Hours pass in a blur of work until lunchtime, when Bucky suddenly appears at your usual spot in the break room. The moment you see him, your heart skips a beat. His presence fills the space, commanding and intense. You watch as he approaches, your colleagues' chatter fading into the background.

"I need to talk to you, Y/N," he says, his voice a mix of urgency and something deeper-something almost vulnerable. His eyes, however, are still guarded, a wall you've never been able to fully break through.

Your colleagues exchange knowing glances, smirking, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Without a word, you follow Bucky out of the room, conscious of the curious eyes behind you.

He leads you to the women's bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, he turns to you, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he begins, but the words seem empty, as if even he doesn't believe them.

"For what?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart is pounding now, and you don't know if it's from anger, confusion, or the mere proximity to him.

"For last night. I have no right to tell you who should take your virginity," he says, but you quickly cover his mouth with your hand, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face.

"Don't say that out loud!" you hiss, glancing around as if someone might be listening. The idea that anyone might hear about your inexperience makes you cringe.

His lips curl into a smirk beneath your hand, and he gently removes it, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of electricity through you. "Do you still want it?" he whispers, leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath on your neck. His voice is dark, teasing, but there's something else there too-a hint of uncertainty, as if he's afraid of your answer.

Your breath catches as he presses his knee between your legs, his hands firm on your hips. God, why does he have to be so confusing? You need him, but his mixed signals are driving you insane.

"You have to understand, I don't want you to regret anything you do with me," he murmurs against your lips, finally adjusting his knee just where you need it. Your body responds instantly, a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

His words are laced with concern, but also with a promise of something darker. "Even though it may not seem like it, I really care about you," he continues, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek, a gesture so tender it makes your chest ache. You feel small under his gaze, like a puzzle he's trying to figure out. And yet, in this position, you're certain you could unravel completely in his hands.

"The day I fuck you, I want to hear words like 'I love you, Daddy' coming out of your mouth. I don't want it to be a simple one-night stand, okay?" he finishes, pulling back just as quickly as he came, leaving you breathless and reeling.

As the door closes behind him, you're left with the echo of his words, your thoughts spiraling. 'How can he have this much control over me?' you wonder, struggling to steady your breath. Your heart is racing, your body still humming with the desire he left behind. Until yesterday, you were convinced your relationship with Bucky was built on mutual dislike and a twisted game of dominance. But now, you're not so sure. There's something deeper-a need, an almost primal urge to possess and be possessed.

The day you finally give in to him won't be gentle. You can feel it in the way your bodies clash, in the intensity of his gaze. It will be raw, fierce, and everything you've secretly craved. And when it happens, you'll be ready to let him see every part of you-the parts you've never shown anyone else, not even yourself.

After work Bucky takes you home, you decide to let go of what happened because now you know that he wants you as much as you do. He wants to be there for you and give you everything you can give.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day," you admit, adjusting Bucky's seatbelt. It feels tighter than it should and you think it's the reason you're short of breath when in reality it's the man in the driver's seat who's gripping the wheel in a way that's too erotic for your tastes.

"What conclusion have you come to?" he asks without taking his eyes off the road. The way his jaw clenched when he spoke and the hint of a neat beard on his cheeks spark some very perverse thoughts in you.

"I want you Bucky, so much. It wouldn't be a one night stand, I know I'd be addicted to your body pressing against mine," you admit bravely and a smile lights up his face.

“Show me how much you want me,” he taunts you.

You decide to please him without using your sharp tongue and you reach out to the crotch of his pants to feel what you have dreamed of so much. Under your fingers you feel him slowly swelling and as you feel it you bite your lip to hold back the excitement that is growing inside you.

You unzip his pants while he is still driving, you notice that he has slowed down and on his face you notice the desire he has for you. As soon as you free his cock you notice that your fantasies did not do him justice. It is definitely bigger and thicker than the one you imagined you rode every night. You wet your hand with saliva - as you have seen done in many pornos - and you start to touch it enjoying the heat on your hand.

You make small movements with the palm of your hand and the idea that someone could see you does nothing but excite you more. You are not an expert, you do not know what he might like more but despite this the movements of your hand are decisive.

"I knew you were a good girl," Bucky says from behind the wheel. Seeing how he's reacting to your touch excites you even more. His breathing is no longer regular, you see his expression satisfied by your touch and when you notice that there are only a few meters left to your house you almost feel sorry.

You start to pump faster, you have decided to challenge yourself and you want to make him come before you get to your house. As your hand increases the speed his sighs become faster and faster and when you see from his look that he is close to that point you take off your belt and lower yourself towards his big cock and take his tip between your lips until your mouth is filled.

"Such a good girl," he says to you while parking the car and you look into his eyes smiling, swallowing all his seed and licking your lips to show him that you liked it.

He fixes his cock in his jeans and then follows you into your home. He intends to return the favor you have done him and will really make you scream as he always threatened while he was teasing you. Once the door is closed behind you, you begin to kiss with desire. Your tongues touch and search for each other and feeling your taste mixed with his cum gives him another throbbing erection despite the orgasm of a few minutes ago.

“I knew there was a whore inside you looking for my cock," he tells you in a hoarse voice. Your body is on fire, you need him to give you more. He makes you lie down on the same couch where he rejected you less than twenty-four hours ago and begins to undress you hastily without paying attention to your clothes. He scatters everything around the room and when you are finally naked in front of his gaze he admires you in amazement.

You are perfect. Your body is perfect in his eyes. Every little imperfection that you see in it are things that he loves. You are a Greek goddess in his eyes and every part of you belongs to him and you both know it. From the day you stained his white shirt with coffee you already knew it would end like this.

He starts taking your breasts with his big hands, only his mind knows how many times he has wanted to touch them, bite them and suck them and now everything is possible. With his metallic hand he holds one of your nipples tightly, the cold touch of his hand makes you arch your back with pleasure and in the meantime he sucks and bites the other nipple making you want even more. Your gasps are music to his ears, your body is like an instrument in his hands and with every touch he is able to let out those little sounds he loves.

“Bucky, please I want more,” you beg with the help of your needy gaze.

"What a needy whore, isn't you?" he sneers and you nod to agree with him. You want to be his whore for tonight and for all the nights to come. He leaves a trail of kisses all over your body and then lingers on your pussy. The place where you need him to focus.

With his thumb he begins to touch your clit and in the meantime his gaze is fixed on your face dominated by pleasure from that insignificant touch. While with his thumb he continues his work with his middle finger he begins to penetrate your cunt going deep to feel how wet you are just for him.

"What a wet pussy we have," he compliments and then licks your juices from his fingers and satisfied he licks his lips.

He makes you sit with your back to the backrest and positions himself between your legs, placing your legs on his shoulders. As he enters you with two fingers, he begins to lick your clit while your hands are firmly on his head. You push him closer to you while desperate cries escape from your lips. Before that, you had never felt anything more pleasurable. His tongue moves expertly on your tight pussy sucking the right spots and alternating with licking.

“Bucky… I’m about to come,” you tell him between sighs of pleasure.

"Good girls only come when they are told, you are a good girl aren't you?" he tells you after taking his tongue off the place he was devouring with pleasure. He puts his fingers in your mouth and you impulsively suck his fingers taking all your flavor away from him. Your pussy is sweet and the taste and smell make Bucky ecstatic. He starts to undress too, letting his erection come out, now it seems even bigger than before and you don't know if you'll be able to take it all. But you know you'll make it, you want to show Bucky that you're a good girl. Good girls can take all the cock.

Before filling your pussy Bucky positions himself between your breasts and you squeeze them around his hard and veiny member. He starts moving with restrained rhythms while you stick out your tongue to lick the tip when you have the chance.

"You have no idea how much I've dreamed of being between these tits," he tells you between thrusts. Your hot tits around his throbbing cock are an incredible sight. Then Bucky takes a condom from his jeans pocket and orders you to put it on him.

You tear it off with your fingers and place it on the tip of Bucky's cock and then with your lips you cover that member with the condom.

“You're my good girl," he says, caressing your cheek. Then with a brusque gesture he turns you around and you find yourself doggy style on the couch with your legs wide open. He spits on his fingers and lubricates your pussy and then he enters you. Slowly and trying to get you used to it, it's still your first time.

His thrusts are slow but firm. It's not enough for you, you want more.

"Bucky..." you say between sighs.

"I know, baby... let your pussy get at ease to my big cock," he replies, putting his hand around your neck and then touching your breasts with the nipples still hard and stained by him. As soon as he notices that you no longer feel any pain, he increases his speed. He fills you up completely, making you scream with pleasure, he doesn't give you time to make you understand that he's sending your mind into a spin.

"Bucky... I'm going to..." you can't finish your sentence because he slaps you on the right butt. The slap sends you into paradise.

"You can only come when daddy tells you to," he replies, slapping you again, this time on your left ass cheek making you scream in pleasure.

After many deep and fast thrusts you feel the orgasm inside you, holding it back is fucking hard but you don't want to disobey Bucky, or rather, your daddy. He has taken away all your sharp responses with his cock turning you into a perfect whore for him. Like you always dreamed.

"Come for daddy, doll," he orders you, he's almost ready to come too but he wants to do it to you. On top of your body. You don't have to be told twice and you come on his big cock and as soon as he comes out of you he takes off the condom and orders you to get on your knees in front of him.

He starts touching himself in front of you and explodes in an orgasm on your beautiful face throwing away every single ounce of purity you had left. You lick your lips hoping to be able to take some of his cum and be able to taste it again like in the car. He grabs your neck and kisses you with fury. Your mouths both taste like the sex you shared and you can't be happier.

“You did really well,” he tells you and you bite your lip at the compliment. “I'm proud of you," he adds, giving you another long, longing kiss.

You go to take a shower to wash your sweaty bodies but "by mistake" Bucky's cock enters your pussy again and fucks you in your shower again giving you the second orgasm of the day and again by mistake his cock ends up in your mouth and Bucky teaches you how to give a blowjob that satisfies him. As soon as you finish the shower you slip into your bed, he wants to be with you after what you have shared and once in bed you fall asleep hugging each other.

The next morning, thankfully a Sunday, you devour everything you have to eat. You were so into sex that you didn't have dinner last night and your arguments resume but end with you rolling around in bed.

This new perspective excites you more than it should, every argument now corresponds to a perfect fuck and now to shut you up Bucky will put his cock in your mouth. "What a beautiful whore you are when you suck it," and these dirty words help you get an orgasm. Bucky says good girls like to be called whores and you are one.

"You're all mine," he tells you while you're sitting at the kitchen table where you've just finished eating, he said he wanted dessert so you you decide to propose yourself as a meal. You took off your panties and without being asked he was between your legs sucking and licking his sweet dessert.

"I love you daddy," you say closer to your orgasm, those are Bucky's favorite words. They make him understand that everything about you is his, your heart, your perfect cunt, your mouth and the rest of your body.

[mischiefmanagers]

Azriel Fic Rec Library 🦇💙

In no particular order, here's an extensive list of Azriel x Reader or Azriel x OC fics that I've compiled for those who can't get enough of him. I literally maxed out the number of tags/links you can include on a post for this 😂

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @acourtofmenandthirst

You Called 🥀💞

by @moonlightazriel

Before you 🔥🥀

The truth about you 🥀💞🔥

The family we choose 💞

by @thelov3lybookworm

I Didn't Ask For This 🌼🥀

Finally Safe 🌼🥀

My brother. 💞

by @writingsbychlo

SWEET LIKE SUGAR 🌼💞🥀

false confessions 🌼🥀

how we survive 🥀

by @readychilledwine

Slow Hands 🌼💞🔥

Bound by Fate 🌼🥀💞🔥

Little Bat, Big Dreams 💞

Beauty in Pain 🥀

Devotion 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Forced Revelations

by @lalacliffthorne

the basic rules of friendship 💞🔥

motorcycle 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

Hear the lonely cry out 🥀

Can you love me most? 🥀

Baby daddy 💞

by @draemgal

master of disguise 💞

by @azsazz

Nightlight 🥀

Wrong Side of the Right Coin Azriel x Reader x Eris 🥀

Just Hold On 🥀💞

What Lies Ahead

Bleed for Me

by @xoxonyxx

What Should've Been 💞

by @illyrian-dreamer

Spin the bottle 💞🥀

Our girl Azriel x Cassian x Reader 🥀

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Practice On Me 💞🔥

by @danikamariewrites

Sixth Sense 💞

Shell 💞

Fever Dreams 🥀💞

Please Don't Go 🥀💞

Pointless Fights 🥀

Perfect Princess 💞

by @lidiasloca

more than this 🥀

by @tadpolesonalgae

please... 🌼🥀

washing his wings 💞

Can't Bring Myself To Hate You 🌼🥀🔥

His Personal Assistant

by @mother-above

The Golden Warrior 🌼

by @aquanova99

The Shadow and the Seraphim

by @fieldofdaisiies

Oh Those Romance Novels 🔥

Love's A Burden 🥀

by @ellievickstar

Between Two worlds

by @florence-end

Worst kept secret 💞

Stitch up

by @redheadspark

Reunited 💞🥀

Hold 🥀💞

by @acourtofmarvels

Miracle 🥀

by @bookish-whore

Haunted 🥀

by @honeybeefae

7 Minutes In Heaven 🔥🔥

Shadows of Fire Azriel x Reader x Eris 🔥🔥

by @reverie-verse

Ooops Mating Bond 🌼💞

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected Azriel x Reader x Eris 💞🥀

by @ladylokilaufeyson5

A Little Helping Hand 🌼💞

I Will Always Find You 💞🥀

by @azrielhours

Soft Spot 🌼🔥💞

I want you to rest 💞🥀

Kiss Thief 💞

Soul Song 💞

Restless Dreams 🥀

Stolen Away 💞

Waiting for You 💞🥀

by @liahaslosthermind

Swarming children and elbows to the face 💞

by @itsphoenix0724

Tickle My Strings 🔥

by @jeannineee

Apology 💞

Umbra et Ventus

Blue and Red Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Stubble 💞

Illyrian Babies Azriel x Cassian x Reader 💞

Closure 🥀🔥

by @violette-hue

Fated 🔥

by @angelshadowsinger

Supposed to Be Together 🥀🔥

Prized Possession 🥀💞

by @callmeblaire

little friends 💞

by @fairydustblossom

tied to you 🥀💞

losing control🥀💞

pre relationship fluff 💞

by @throneofsapphics

up all night Azriel x Reader x Cassian 💞

by @arrantsnowdrop

Starlight 💞

Wrongly Accused 🥀🔥💞

by @clairebear08

Hide and Seek 💞

Betrayal 🥀

by @starlightandsouls

My Angel 💞

Yours To Keep And Cherish 💞

Bookshop Brawls 💞

by @azrielscrown

the secret of seduction 💞🔥

wake me up. 💞

by @glittergelpensblog

Shadow and Song

In the Dark

by @azriels-shadowsinger

brother's best friend 💞

by @xreaderbooks

Two sides 🥀

by @vacant--body

stay with me 🥀🔥

by @whisperingmidnights

We Shall Become Monsters 🌼

by @wishfulwithwine

You Belong With Me 🥀

by @queen--of--shadows

Healing Shadows 🌼

by @ochiolism

winter's frost

[smileysuh]

ride night

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader I ft. Johnny

🔮 preview. “You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

tw/cw. Exhibitionism, riding a Harley with a vibrator inside of you, multiple orgasms, fucking in a bar bathroom while someone (John) listens in, overstimulation, unprotected sex, vibrator as a ball gag, voyeurism, dirty talk, praise, choking, brief pussy eating, Hyuck has tattoos, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.9k

🍭 aus. Established relationship au, motorcycle au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. The I love Harleys saga continues but this time with NCT

You met Lee Donghyuck in the winter of your life. It was all cold weather, windy days and rain streaks against your apartment window. When you bumped into him at a bar, and he’d pulled you over to tell you that you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, things began to get brighter.

It’s been five months now, and the warmth of spring turning into summer matches the heat Donghyuck has brought into your existence. He’s enthusiastic, and so so good at making your day sparkle. 

A self-proclaimed ‘motorcycle skid man’ with tattoos and a generally bad attitude toward others to match, Hyuck has been raving about how excited he is to finally have a girl to take on his Harley night rides, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as stoked to be joining him in this aspect of his life.

You’ve been on his bike a handful of times since the riding season started, and while you’re getting used to the loud, vibrating engine, you’ve never been a backpack for more than fifteen or so minutes with the speed he goes at. This will be your first time on a longer trip, as his friends usually take a scenic route two or so towns over to get drinks at one-off dive bars.

He pulls infront of your apartment, and your entire body is thrumming with an excited energy you can’t even put into words. When he takes off his helmet, and shakes out his shaggy dark hair, you swear he looks almost godlike. The tattoos on his hands and neck are visible, but the rest of his intricate inkings are covered in a hoodie and ride gear. 

“Hey, princess,” he grins, pulling out one of his bluetooth earbuds to hand to you. “Are you ready for this?”

“Uh huh.” You accept the earbud, slotting it into place.

“We’re going to stop at my bike dad’s place to get you proper gear,” Hyuck explains. “He called me earlier and gave me a talking to about not being too much of a dick head with you on the back.”

Your Harley lover has found a family within his motorcycle fanatic friends, one of which, is a man named John who you’ve met twice. He’s always preaching about safety, as he’s been in the motorcycle scene for much longer than your baby rider boyfriend, who’s only been riding for two or so years.

There’s always a risk involved with motorcycles, and John has had too many friends who’ve gotten into accidents, too many close calls for comfort. 

The first time you’d met John, Hyuck had darted off to get drinks, and in the loud seclusion of a corner in the bar, John had warned you not to let Hyuck take risks with you. “He’s only brought a girl around once,” the twenty-nine year old had explained, “and even with that, he’s the only guy I know who goes faster with a backpack.”

You’re not surprised that John would insist on proper gear for a ride of this caliber. When you and Hyuck pull up to his townhouse, he’s standing in the garage with three different jackets laid across the hood of his new black ram truck. 

“Hey, Speedy Racer, hi, Princess,” John smiles, pulling you into a hug that lingers before assessing Hyuck as he’s taking off his helmet. “You excited for this?”

“So excited,” you respond, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hold onto this one,” John says, addressing your boyfriend, “she’s not a scardey cat like the last girl.”

“Trust me, I’m planning on holding on,” Hyuck promises, coming up behind you to wrap you in his arms. 

“So… is this the gear?” you ask, assessing the jackets on the car.

“Yeah, I bought these for my ex.” John runs a hand through his dark hair. “Figure they need a new home now.”

“Why don’t you get your own girlfriend?” Hyuck teases, squeezing you roughly.

John only sighs at your boyfriend’s antics. “Anyways, try them all on, see which one you like best.”

You shrug off your own wind breaker, picking up the first black leather jacket. It looks nice, but it’s a little large, and John explains that it’s usually meant for a hoodie underneath, which he can grab for you if you’d like. 

The second one fits a little better, but it’s still not as snug as you’d enjoy. 

When you pick up the third jacket, a white leather piece with black detailing, you can already tell from the feel of the material that it will be your favourite. As you put it on, you note the small amount of padding, the way it hugs your body. 

“That’s the one, princess,” Hyuck muses, looking you up and down.

“It looks good,” John offers you a smile. He turns, heading for a drawer, where he pulls out a pair of black riding gloves. “One last touch,” he explains, passing them to you.

When you put on the leather gloves, you finally feel like an actual motorcycle girlfriend.

“Are we good to go?” John asks.

“I just need to go piss first,” Hyuck says. “Princess, come with.”

John cocks his eye brow, but doesn’t say anything as Hyuck pulls you into the townhome, leading you down a hall to the first floor bathroom.

“What are you doing?” you laugh when he closes the door behind you, locking it securely.

“Got you something,” Hyuck tells you, reaching into his jacket.

Your heart thumps at what this present could be, and it lurches into your throat when he takes out a pink, egg vibrator.

“Hyuck, this isn’t a good idea-”

“Are you kidding?” he grins. “It’s the best idea I’ve ever had, come here”

You don’t fight him when he reaches for your hand, tugging you closer. His lips meet yours, and you eagerly kiss him back, his tongue swiping against your own. His mouth quickly moves to your throat, and his breath tickles when he whispers, “You’re going to love this.”

He gets down onto his knees, quickly pulling your pants and underwear down. The cool air of the bathroom makes your skin tingle, and your boyfriend leans forward, pressing a kiss to the patch of skin just under your belly button.

“Hyuck-” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair.

“Be good for me,” he tells you, spreading your thighs as much as the pants by your feet can allow. It’s an odd angle, but your boyfriend somehow gets his skilled tongue licking at your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit. 

One finger enters you, then two. He pushes at the spongy spot that has your toes curling in your shoes, your legs shaky. Then, to your disappointment, he pulls away.

Hyuck looks up at you, watching your reactions as he brings the internal vibrator to your pussy, gently pushing it inside.

“How’s that feel?” he asks, breath hot along your sensitive inner thighs.

“Good,” you respond, swallowing thickly.

“Perfect.” He kisses your stomach, then pulls up your jeans. “This is going to be the best ride you’ve ever been on.”

The three of you had arrived at the dealership with ten minutes before the kickstands-up start time. Hyuck had introduced you to friends you’ve not yet had the chance to meet, and he hadn’t turned the vibrator on yet.

But when everyone gets on their bikes in preparation for the hour ride ahead of you, Hyuck reaches into his pocket, at first, you think it’s just to turn on music for your Bluetooth earbuds, but that’s when the low setting of the toy kicks into gear.

Your thighs immediately squeeze around him at the stimulus, your grip on his hips tightening.

Hyuck tosses you a look over his shoulder, then flips his visor down, turning to face the road and revving his engine.

The vibrations from the Harley and the toy have your entire body tingling with delight, and you realize that while this might be the best ride of your life, it’s definitely going to be the longest, in more ways than one.

You do your best to focus on the sight in front of you rather than the vibrations. There must be over twenty Harleys on this ride, and it feels momentous in some odd way to be a part of this. 

Your group comes up to the turn light outside the dealership, after this, you’ll be on the highway. The riders are in two columns, taking up one stretch of lane. When you turn your head, you realize Johnny is pulled up beside you. He pushes his tinted visor up, flashing you a wink while you all wait.

Hyuck turns to stare at John, and as the light shifts, they both begin to rev their engines. You can’t help the giggle of delight that bubbles within you, it’s as if the two are caught up in some type of pissing match, and others soon join in.

The first two riders take off as the turn light switches on. Hyuck shifts into gear, and the motorcycle pulls forward, your knees digging against his thighs for grip as you prepare for the speed that’s about to come now that you’re on the highway.

You’ve heard John and others call Hyuck ‘Speedy Racer,’ and you know your boyfriend has a reputation for breaking limits, but in your short experience backpacking, nothing could have prepared you for how fast all the bikes are moving the moment you’re all clear of the turn.

You can see the way the men are feeding off of each other. They’re respectful of those in front of them… to a point, but everyone looks like they have something to prove, or maybe it’s just a love for the extreme.

Either way, you can only hold on as the outskirts of the city flash by you faster than they ever have before. 

The music playing through your earbud shifts, and as ‘Or Nah’ by Ty Dolla $ign comes on, you realize Hyuck’s making you listen to his sex playlist. 

Fuck- Your pussy clenches around the vibrator, your fingers digging into his hips.

You watch Hyuck’s grip tighten on his handlebars, his veins flexing under numerous dark hand tattoos that always turn you on way more than they should.

His engine revs aggressively, prompting the rider in front of him to go even faster and close the gap between the person two bikes up. 

John matches Hyuck’s speed on your left, turning to look at you both. 

It feels suddenly very dirty - and exhilarating - at the same time, to be doing this.

If only John knew what sinful music is ringing through your head, what dizzying vibrations are coursing through your pussy-

There are small district type suburbs outside of the city, and you somehow make the fifteen to thirty minute stretch to the next closest one in what must be only five minutes. You’re breathless by the time you get to the next light, one of two on the highway in this zone, and even though you think you’ll be able to catch a moment of reprieve, you’re wrong.

Hyuck reaches into his pocket, dialing up the intensity of the vibrator.

Your legs shake around him, your breaths coming out in hot pants inside your helmet.

John is looking at you again, and he motions for you to lift your visor.

Sure, any rider watching you practically hyperventilate at a red light would suggest lifting the piece of plastic keeping your face contained in your helmet- but that’s the last thing you want to do right now.

Hyuck lifts his own visor, looking over his shoulder at you then back at John. He leans a little to the left to get closer to his friend, and John’s the one to ask “Is she good?”

“She’s perfect,” Hyuck shouts over the sound of engines. His hand finds yours on his hip, rubbing you gently. “Aren’t you, princess?”

Taking a deep breath, you lift your visor, managing a small smile at your boyfriends ‘bike dad.’

“I’m okay,” you try to reassure John, but your voice is shaky.

Before John can say anything else, engines catch your attention and all three of you look forward, where the light has turned green.

“Visors down,” Hyuck warns you, knocking his own back into place before booting his kickstand back up. The bike lurches forward not two seconds later, and you’re left scrambling to adjust your helmet before latching back onto your boyfriends waist.

There’s a sissybar at your back, and you know logically that it will keep you from sliding off the end of the Harley, but you’re still not used to this type of speed. You can’t help but hold on like Hyuck is your life line, and with your mischievous speedy racer of a lover in control of the vibrator wedged between your sensitive walls, he kind of is. 

Lucky for everyone taking part in ride night, the second light in this small town is green, and your group flies through, the signs noting the speed increase back to normal highway regulations- although, you’re sure everyone here is going way over what’s posted.

You can’t see Hyuck’s speedometer with his body in front of yours, and part of you doesn’t want to see it.

You close your eyes, giving in to the onslaught of sensations. 

The air ripping at your tight riding jacket, gravel buffering your knees ever so often, music ringing through your helmet, the powerful vibrator in your pussy, and the even more powerful machine that Hyuck maneuvers like a God-

If you focus too hard, if you allow yourself to enjoy all of this, you might just cum, and part of you wants to resist that, so you open your eyes, looking over at John on the bike next to you.

Hyuck might be the notorious dare devil, but John’s not all that angelic either. The man is standing straight up on his foot pegs, his butt raised completely off his seat. The wind is tearing at his leather jacket, and you can’t even imagine the pressure of the air he’s cutting through, battering at his body-

Even so, he looks as free as you’ve ever seen a man look.

Your pussy pulses pathetically around the toy and you grip Hyuck’s hips, legs shaking around his own.

His hand lands on your thigh, squeezing, as if to say ‘cum for me,’ and your body can’t help itself this time. You release all the pressure, your muscles going slack for a moment of peace before contracting from the power of your orgasm.

Your core throbs desperately around the vibrator, your eyes closing to enjoy the sensation.

Hyuck takes his hand away from your thigh, revving the engine and kicking into an even higher gear. The bike purs below you, as if she - like her master - is amped up from the energy of your release.

John sits back down on his bike to match Hyuck’s acceleration, and you can feel his eyes on you. Another pang of pleasure erupts through your form, your visor fogging up from how hard you’re panting.

Hyuck makes a motion at John, and with your vision obscured, it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s saying. However, when he forms his hand into a fist and shakes it aggressively to emulate a vibrator, you can almost picture the look of recognition behind John’s tinted visor.

You can’t bring yourself to think about it too hard right now, your orgasm still throbbing through you like white hot summer rays.

It’s hard to gauge time on the back of a bike. With the world going past you at what feels like a hundred miles a minute, it could be an orgasm that lasts five minutes, or five seconds, you’re not sure.

All you can do is hold on, allowing the pleasure to overtake you until it subsides, your muscles slowing the contractions around the vibrator. 

You don’t know it yet, but this will be your first of six orgasms on the back of Hyuck’s bike during the hour and a half ride to the bar.

Hyuck had turned off the vibrator at the first red light you’d reached after entering the town that will be your final destination. You’d slumped like a limp rag doll behind him, trying to catch your breath the rest of the way.

When the group of Harleys pulls into the bar parkinglot, you’re honestly not sure you’ll even be able to stand, and your legs are wobbly as you nearly stumble off the back of Hyuck’s bike.

You fumble with the straps of your helmet, tearing it off and taking a big gasp of air.

Hyuck’s much more graceful with his movements, bending down to pick up the earbud that’s fallen to the ground with the force of the removal of your helmet. “You good, princess?”

You narrow your eyes at him, knowing your cheeks are flushed and you probably look like a mess.

“I’ll make it better,” Hyuck promises, standing and pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. You can’t help the way you react to him, leaning against his chest and completely melting. It feels so good to be touched, finally, after over and hour of what feels like torture. You can almost forget about the gang of bikers whistling and howling at the sight. 

Hyuck pulls away too quickly, putting his helmet on his bike before grabbing yours to do the same. Then, he latches onto your hand. “Come on,” he says gruffly.

You want to ask if you should wait for the rest of the riders to park properly, but when Hyuck begins to tug you toward the bar, your words get caught in your throat.

The dive bar hostess’s eyes widen when you and Hyuck approach. “Hey, I’m with the group that just pulled up, my girlfriend’s been needing to piss since the last town, can we just use your bathroom real quick?”

The girl stammers, but Hyuck’s already pushing through with a gruff, “Thanks.”

It’s clear Hyuck’s been here before, because he knows exactly where he’s going. As he pushes you into the men’s bathroom, doing a quick look around to make sure it’s empty, your heart begins to thunder in your chest.

“Hyuck-”

“Come on, princess,” he shakes his head at you, tugging you into a stall, “I didn’t toy with you for over an hour just to leave you high and dry. You want to be filled, properly, don’t you?”

His breath is hot against your skin as he corners you into the small stall, pinning you against the black plastic wall. 

You don’t have it in you to wait for him to fuck you till you get home, but you don’t have it in you to speak much either, all you can do is whimper and nod, clutching at his hoodie to pull him into a kiss.

He groans against you, and the sound goes straight to your core. Hyuck’s lips quickly move to your throat, teasing by your sweet spot while you moan and thread your fingers through his soft hair.

When his teeth graze past the collar of your jacket, you push your hips forward, silently begging for more friction. He rewards you by pushing his thigh between your own, allowing you to grind down on him while his nimble fingers tug down the zipper.

For a moment, a scene flashes through your mind's eye. You envision John in a very similar position to where you are now, some faceless lover, adorned in the jacket that’s now keeping you from Hyuck-

 Your boyfriend buries his face in your exposed tits now, holding the leather open so he can access the cleavage pushed up by your bra.

“Hyuck, please-” you whimper, acutely aware that you’re in a public restroom.

“So needy,” he chuffs, nipping at your collarbone.

His hand slips to your pants, undoing them before roughly tugging the fabric down.

“Can you push the vibe out for me baby?” he prompts, thumb circling your clit.

The mere graze of his digit against your throbbing bud has your core clenching, following through with his command. Hyuck catches the vibrator as it falls, grinning at you. “Now say ah.”

“What?”

“It’s to keep you quiet, plus, I need this shit clean so I can put it back in my pocket.”

He’s such a fuck, but you dutifully open your mouth for him, accepting the toy.

The taste of your own pussy on your tongue has you mewling for Hyuck, reaching down to fumble with his belt.

You can feel his cock pressing against his jeans, and you’re practically drooling around the makeshift gag ball by the time you get him free of the denim.

Hyuck grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a haphazardly sinful kiss. He licks at the toy, groaning from your slick that coats the plastic vibrator. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls, staring you in the eyes for a moment full of tension.

Then he flips you around, pushing at your back so your chest is pressed to the wall of the stall.

“Spread your legs for me, princess,” he instructs.

You do as you’re told, and he rubs the tip of his cock along your pussy lips a moment later. You moan around the vibrator, closing your eyes. 

God, you need to be filled so fucking bad-

“Always so wet for me,” Hyuck murmurs by your ear, his mouth teasing past your throat. “You came what? Five times on my bike? Six? You’re gonna give me one more.”

He pushes his cock into your wet hole, bottoming out immediately while your toes curl in your shoes, your nails clawing against the plastic wall of the stall.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips. 

“So fucking big,” you retort, and it’s true. Hyuck is around 5’9, maybe 5’10 or 5’11 on a good day in his work boots- but where he’s lacking - arguably - in height, he makes up for in cock. He’s probably around seven, seven and a half inches. And he’s girthy too, stretching out your tight pussy in a way a vibrator only wishes it could.

This is what you’ve been needing for over an hour.

All the toys in the world, but nothing, nothing, is like Hyuck’s cock. He sure as hell knows how to use it.  

Hyuck begins to rut into you, lips hot against your throat. The layers of leather covering your form are making you sweat, but then again, you’ve been sweating since that first orgasm. You can’t even bring yourself to care about the uncomfortable nature of this, because you’ve been desperate for Hyuck, and nothing is going to tear you away from this experience.

Nothing-

Except the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Hyuck freezes momentarily, then he slaps his hand over your mouth, muffling the sounds that have been escaping past the vibrator.

He picks up where he left off, railing into you even harder while your eyes roll back into your head.

Fuck, at this point, you feel like you’re possessed, spiritually, and physically.

No other man in your life has ever tempted you to be in a situation like this one, but Hyuck’s nothing if not a guy who broadens your horizons.

“You two are such animals.”

John’s voice makes your skin tingle, your eyes opening. You turn your head, meeting Hyuck’s gaze behind you. He only laughs. “Easy for you to say old man,” he calls.

“A vibrator in your girl’s pussy during ride night,” you can practically hear John shaking his head, “funny, I never thought of that.”

“Do you have something to say to me, or did you come just to chat and listen to my girl get railed?” Hyuck asks, irritation and amusement laced in his words.

“I got to watch her cum on your bike a couple of times, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it, I figure, might as well have some audio to burn into my memory too.”

Fucking hell.

Your pussy clenches desperately around Hyuck, and he laughs, kissing your throat.

“Oddly enough, John, I think my princess is into that. Open your mouth baby, let’s give John the vibrator to hold onto for now.”

You do as you’re told, spitting the toy into Hyuck’s hand and staring at him with a question in your eyes.

“You stay right here,” Hyuck instructs, pressing his hand to the back of your head to force your face against the wall. His motions have stopped, and he reaches behind himself to open the door. From the angle of where you are against the stall, John can’t see you, all he can do is reach in and accept the vibrator from your boyfriend. “Clean that off for me, will ya?”

You hear Johnny chuckle to himself, and then Hyuck’s locking the door again.

“Okay, baby, no need to hold back now. Put on a show for John, I know you want to.”

The first whimper that escapes you makes you claw at the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold plastic. Your eyes close, your teeth gnawing at your lip.

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, stifling a moan. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, princess? It’s only John.”

“Fuck-” you whine as Hyuck reaches around your front, his fingers toying with your clit. 

“You always told me you had a thing for older men. Said I wasn’t your usual type- not daddy enough for you, well, here you go, baby. Let daddy hear you moan for my cock.” 

You seriously can’t believe this is happening. All you can do is try to relax while Hyuck fucks you stupid in some dive bar bathroom stall, your core still throbbing and desperate after six orgasms from a vibrator while on his bike. The fingers on your oversensitive bud are unrelenting, just like your boyfriend, and at this point, you can’t even bring yourself to care that his ride night dad is listening in, only a few feet away. 

“You sound so pretty, princess, show John how pretty you sound, stop holding back.”

Hyuck begins to suck on your sweet spot, and you gasp loudly, eyes closing. Each thrust of his hips has his cock hitting a place deep inside of you, making your toes curl. Then he pinches your clit, and you suck in a strangled breath.

“Want you to cum for me, baby, show us that you’re a good girl.”

“Hyuck-”

“Now’s not the time to talk.” His free hand wraps around your throat, and you shiver with anticipation. “Good girls listen to their boyfriends, don’t they princess?”

When he squeezes your neck, your core throbs, and a few more circles of your aching clit has you seeing stars. You let out a strangled gasp, grabbing at Hyuck’s tattooed wrist, keeping his hand around your throat while your pussy clenches tight on his cock, your orgasm washing over you like a waterfall.

“That’s it, princess,” Hyuck coos. “And you’re going to take every drop of my cum too, right? I know how much you love being full.”

“Please-” you whimper.

“Fuck.” You hear John groan just outside the stall, and another wave of pleasure erupts through you, goosebumps fleckling along your flesh. You’re delirious at this point, overcome by the high that’s tearing through every fiber of your being.

“Okay, princess, I’m there- take it, take it-” Hyuck squeezes your throat even tighter, and you gasp when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you up with warmth while his hips stutter with effort.

“Hyuck-” you whimper, beginning to struggle in his grasp.

He releases your neck, tilting your head so he can lean over your shoulder and press his hot lips against your own, tongue invading your mouth while he finishes.

You’re both gasping by the time he stills inside of you. He rests his forehead against your own, breathing deeply and looking at you under heavy lids.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he whispers, pressing a shockingly chaste kiss to your lips.

Hyuck pulls away, helping you sit down onto the toilet so his cum doesn’t get on your clothes. He quickly wipes his cock. “We’ll give you some privacy,” he winks, exiting the stall. “Come on, John.”

Both men leave, and you’re free to pee in peace, trying to catch your breath.

When you’re finished up in the bathroom, you find Hyuck waiting right outside. His arm slings around your shoulder and he leads you onto the covered patio where everyone is already seated and enjoying drinks.

John waves the two of you over to a table, and you find it difficult to meet his gaze when you sit down.

It’s clear from the way John and Hyuck dive into a conversation with one of their friends that neither of them intend to discuss what just happened, and that’s fine by you. There’s always another time, and there’s always another ride night. 

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! He's never going to see this, but I just wanted to gush for a moment about how much I appreciate my significant other. For years, being a fanfic writer has been a touchy subject with prospective partners, but my boyfriend right now is so stupidly supportive of what I do here on Tumblr. I'm so blessed at all the ideas he's given me since we started dating, and this fic is just one of the many ways I've been able to creatively interpret aspects of our relationship into fiction so we can all enjoy even a slice of the joy that he gives me every day.

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “You’ve been good, cum for your boyfriend, bet he’ll love it when you make a mess on his tongue.” John is so suave- he knows exactly what to say, exactly how to be respectful but still an active verbal participant while Hyuck takes you to the edge. The combination of dirty talk and Hyuck’s motions on your pussy have you clamping down with a whine, your muscles clenching hard around Hyuck’s fingers while you cum.

cw/ tw. Vibrating anal plug while on a Harley, exhibitionism, voyeurism, threesome, unprotected sex, protected sex, double penetration (cock & fingers), anal, dirty talk, praise, spitting, pussy eating, multiple reader orgasms, dom/sub dynamic, hand job,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) Princess, baby. (Hyuck’s)  master. (John’s) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 240

🌙 starring. Hyuck & Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

Riding with a toy inside your pussy is one thing, but riding with a butt plug is an entirely other arena of sensation. It’s been two months since your first ride night, and in those months, you and Hyuck have discussed allowing Johnny to join you for some fun. Hyuck had only agreed if he would have complete control, and part of that control, is stretching you out like this.

The worst part is they’re not even going to fuck you at the bar. No, you’re going to be wearing this plug for hours, and only after everything is finished, will you be heading to John’s for the final pleasure of the night.

Hyuck had also chosen to give you a vibrating plug, and for the ride there, he’d kept control of it, but at the bar, that had all changed. Sat between Johnny and Hyuck the two had passed the remote back and forth discreetly, and whenever the plug would jump inside of you, your head would be whipping to figure out who had decided to tease you.

You’re accepting a glass of beer from the waitress when the plug begins to vibrate, and you nearly spill your drink all over yourself. First, your eyes shift to Hyuck, only to find his hands on the table, which means the culprit is John.

He flashes you a wink, and you think you might just die here and now.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.9k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @runahways - @milkteade - @mocha000

@anothershorthuman - @notbeforelong - @darthlunaa

@chogiwapadada - @meowniee - @pandabur666

@just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono - @lovelyhan -

@grilledbananas - @quennlenn - @zezedoesshit

@unlikelysublimekryptonite - @wonwoothinker

nct taglist

@peachyjaemin - @sehunniepot - @shailasthings

thanks to those who interacted with the teaser

@shmooooo - @lovee-dovee - @bbeanetta - @amazinggraxia

@twililty - @fullsunstrawberry - @nae-vm - @boxindaria

@babieculture - @multislut - @p4p1l0nn - @froggyforyoongi

@axo-l0tl - @btsreadss - @ridenotpark - @positionslab

@cuminho - @rolexjung - @firydst - @doyotint - @do0jaem

@littlecatjn - @rakshithanotrao - @sunflowerhc - @ollieollieoctopus

@putlonghatdog - @markgeollie - @icedearlgreytea

[drabblesandimagines]

Crash

Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship

The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.

She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.

You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”

“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.

“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?

You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all. Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate… ..or so had been the idea. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.

“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”

You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.

“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again. “That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?” You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment. “N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”

“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.

“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”

“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”

“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.

The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”

“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”

“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.

“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”

The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.

“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”

He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’. “I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”

“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.

“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“See you soon.”

He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.

“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“

“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”

“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.

“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”

There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 --

Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.

There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.

He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.

“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“

Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”

The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.

As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.

He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”

“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.

“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”

“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”

“Okay, yeah.”

He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. “Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”

“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”

“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”

The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”

Leon swallows, taking all the information in.

“How lucky do you think she was?”

“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”

Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced. His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-

“Sir?”

The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.

“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”

“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”

--

Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.

You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.

Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.

He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.

The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.

“Can we sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.

He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.

In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner.  It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.

He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.

“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Is the car a complete write-off?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”

“Love you too.”  

The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[jobean12-blog]

Bucky and Bluey and You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 1,882

Summary: Bucky has been away on a mission and to pass the time you started watching a new TV show. You love it and you can't wait to watch it with him.

Author's Note: Well it happened. I love the show Bluey so much and thought it would be so fun to introduce it to Bucky. If you haven't seen Bluey you can still read it of course. I did use a couple of lines from some episodes but I've said which ones so you can watch it you want! 😁Either way it's really just sweet domestic fun and fluff! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's fun and fluffy and soft and sweet and silly and there are bits of spice :)

You’re bouncing on your slipper clad heels as you wait at the curb for the sound of the engine. You look up at the window of your apartment and see both Alpine and Winter sitting at the glass and watching you.

It makes you smile, their cute faces a momentary distraction, so when you finally hear the familiar roar of his motorcycle you squeal in excitement and do a little happy dance.

He rounds the corner and revs the engine before slowing down and idling right in front of you, the sound dying down to a low hum. You throw yourself into his open arms and bury your face in his neck.

“Hiya doll face,” he murmurs into your skin.

Before you can say hello in return he slides his hand up your back and curls his fingers around your  neck to direct your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss that quickly turns heated the more you stay pressed against him on the bike. A car passes by and beeps loudly, breaking you two apart with a laugh.

“Hi,” you whisper and kiss him again.

With your hand in his you walk into the apartment, instantly greeted by Winter’s loud and happy barks and Alpine’s meandering softness.

“Hey boys,” Bucky says and bends down to pet them both.

Winter wiggles round and round, his long tail slapping the wall while Alpine rubs himself along Bucky’s arm.

“They missed you.”

He looks up at your words, letting his eyes do a slow sweep over your body.

“I missed you,” he says and stands to take you in his arms.

After another kiss he whispers against your lips, “what did you do without me all week?”

While he waits for your answer he walks you toward the bedroom.

“Watched Bluey.”

He pauses in the hallway, his lips turned up in a boyish smirk.

“Bluey? Is that the one with the blue dog?”

You nod excitedly.

“YES BUCK! It’s SO good. I love it so much!”

He smiles. A real smile where his eyes crinkle at the corners and their blue color sparkles more than usual.

“Really?” he asks, dipping his head to kiss along your neck.

“Yes,” you breathe out, instantly distracted.

“I’m glad you found something to watch that makes you happy doll.”

He nibbles on your earlobe then runs his nose along your jaw, finding your lips again as he pins you against the wall.

“Will you watch it with me?

“Hm doll?” he asks, clearly focused on kissing every inch of your skin.

“Bluey. Will you watch with me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want doll face,” he hums as his fingers slip under your shirt-which is actually his shirt. “Right after I do you.”

You gently wake to the warmth of Bucky’s bare chest, the scent of him surrounding you and keeping you in a comfortable haze of sleepiness. With a stretch you spread out and giggle softly when your feet hit Winter’s large body at the end of the bed. Your hand falls to Alpine who’s snuggled in a tight ball and asleep above Bucky’s head on his pillow.

“Looks like I’m the only one up,” you mutter to yourself.

Bucky turns from his back to his side and throws his arm over you, tugging until you’re nuzzled under his chin.

“I’m up,” he says sleepily. “Sorta.”

“CAN WE WATCH BLUEY!?” you squeak.

You wiggle out of his hold and catch his eyes pop open with a confused expression. You narrow your gaze.

“What about breakfast?” he asks with a yawn before rolling on top of you.

“HEY!” you squeal. “You promised you’d do whatever I want…remember? And I want to watch Bluey!”

“What was that doll?” he asks as his fingers dance along your sides, their feather light touch very ticklish.

“BUCKY!” you yell!

Alpine’s disgruntled meow is followed by a dramatic sigh from Winter.

“The babies are not happy with you right now Barnes.”

“I need something to eat first,” he whispers against your lips before they curve into a smirk.

“I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

“My breakfast is already in bed,” he simpers as he starts to place soft kisses along your neck.

He slides down your body and pushes your shirt up over your hips, pressing on your thighs to spread them wide so he can settle between them.

Your fingers fall to his long hair and you drag them over his scalp, pulling a low moan from the back of his throat.

His satisfied hum hits you in just the right spot and you forget all about Bluey and breakfast.

“Now are you ready?” you ask from the other side of the bed.

He’s sitting up, still shirtless, but with a tray full of food. Eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes, along with his coffee.

“Yep!” he chimes happily. “I had my dessert and now I have plenty of food. Let’s watch!”

He winks at you then digs in.

You playfully roll your eyes and curl up under his outstretched arm. His other hand holds his fork to shovel the bites into his mouth. Alpine sits at Bucky’s feet, his tail swishing back and forth as if he’s deciding whether or not to swipe something to eat. Winter is seated on the floor next to the bed on Bucky’s side, the dog’s long nose resting on the mattress as close to the tray of food as he can get without getting into trouble.

“So the episodes don’t really need to be watched in any order and I thought we could just start with a few of my favorites,” you explain as Bucky nods through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Sure baby doll.”

“And just before we start…Bandit is Dad, Chilli is Mum and Bluey and Bingo are the kids- sisters. Their last name is Heeler because they’re Australian Cattle Dogs-heelers.”

“Are all the characters dogs?” he asks.

“Yep! All different breeds too.”

“That’s fun,” he says. “It is a show for kids though right?”

“Just wait and watch,” you say with a smile.

You start with the episode titled “Grannies,” and as soon as Janet and Rita show up you can feel Bucky’s body shake with this laughter.

“I slipped on mah beans!” he repeats after Bingo, causing you both to chuckle.

“Oh poor dad,” he sighs. “Always gets stuck plunging the toilet!”

You elbow him hard and he grunts with an “ow.”

“What?” he asks. “I’m just sayin’!”

When that episode is done you start the one called “Bike.”

“You’re going to like this one too,” you tell him.

“Pardon?” he says in his best old man voice.

It sends you into a fit of giggles.

“I KNEW YOU’D LOVE THE GRANNIES!!! We're watching ‘Grannymobile’ next. You’ll get a kick out of Muffin.”

Bucky’s laughter rings out and it only makes you laugh more.

“Man Muffin nailed that grouch granny!” he says. “I love it!”

“Wait until you see her in other episodes,” you say with a devious snicker.

After you watch a few more episodes and Bucky has finished his breakfast you pause the TV and crawl into his lap.

“Well?” you ask with an expectant look.

His hands settle on your thighs and his thumbs start to rub soothingly along your skin.

“I love it,” he states. “I think it’s so funny how they act like dogs sometimes and then don’t. The kids are really cute and Bingo is my favorite!”

“I love Bingo but Bandit is my favorite! And Rusty!”

“I knew Bandit was gonna be your favorite!” he laughs. “And who’s Rusty?”

“He hasn’t been in any of the episodes we’ve watched so far but I have one more I want you to see called, ‘Army,’ and he’s in that one.”

“Ok doll face. We can watch as many as you want. I just want to get rid of his tray and grab some snacks.”

He runs out of the room in his boxer briefs and you yell after him, “I love your butt!”

“Not as much as I love yours!” he yells back.

When he returns his hands are full of snack bags and cookies and some bottled water.

“Did you just take everything out of the cabinet?” you giggle.

“Yep,” he says, popping the p and promptly sitting himself down in the middle of the bed. “Come on!”

He pats between his spread legs and waits for you to sit. Once you’re cozy in his arms he starts the episode.

“I like Rusty too,” he says once it’s over.

He kisses the top of your head and feeds you a chip.

“I wonder if Steve will play army with me?” Bucky muses, his eyes lit up with amusement. “I have to be the Sergeant though.”

“Of course you do,” you say before taking the chip and nibbling his fingers.

The two of you spend the whole morning and half the afternoon in bed. You watch Bluey, eat snacks, and just lounge around with Alpine and Winter.

“I guess we have to get up and do stuff at some point huh?” you sigh.

“At some point,” he answers. “But the only thing I’m gonna do right now is…”

Before he finishes the thought he grabs you and rolls over with you on top of him.

“ME!” you say when he opens his mouth.

“How did you know?” he asks, feigning shock.

“You always use that line Buck.”

Your fingers lightly trace his jaw, the dark shadow of hair rough under your fingertips until they meet his soft lips.

“Well it’s only because you’re my favorite thing to do and I’ve been gone a week,” he whispers before taking your hand in his and kissing each of your fingertips. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I’m not complaining,” you murmur.

“Better not,” he warns as he slides his hands along your curves. We can always do stuff tomorrow.”

“I knew this doing stuff was never a good idea!” you huff. “We should have stayed in bed.”

“That’s what I said!” Bucky counters, giving you the ‘I told you so’ look. “Could have had a nana nap love!”

You smile brightly and laugh but when you look back down at the laundry it fades into a frown.

“Laundry sucks,” you pout and throw a pile of socks on the floor.

“Laundry SUCKS!” he adds in exasperated camaraderie.

Once the laundry is all done, the groceries are put away and the animals are fed you fall onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.

He watches you from the kitchen and when your eyes meet his he says, “how about we order some take out for dinner, take a shower, put on our pjs and watch more Bluey.

You stare from your prone position for several seconds and you can see he starts to get fidgety.

“Doll?”

He walks to the couch and stands there waiting.

Without a word you jump up and throw yourself at him. He catches you with ease and laughs when you start to pepper his face with kisses.

“For real life?” you ask.

He takes your face in his hands and gives you a long and sweet kiss.

“For real life,” he answers.

“I love you Bucky.”

“I love you more babe.”

@hiddles-rose @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989

[sepherinaspoppies]

Riding the Dragon- Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: after a great dinner with Aemond, he decides to give you a ride on his motorcycle, a Dragon T6.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, public smut, pussy on bike, cum play?, reader getting off on Aemond's bike, some tiddy succin, mentions of p in v sex, I think that it?

wc: 3,064

taglist!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

masterlist

notes: this is my first time writing in reader's pov? the whole 'you' kind of perspective. I apologize if it sucks ass, I wanted to try something different. And can y'all believe I wrote majority of this when I was ovulating? HAHA

“I had a really nice time tonight.” The man in front of you says with a content and flirtatious smile on his pretty chiseled face. 

Heat coats through your cheeks to the tip of your ears. Definitely not the effect of the two glasses of wine you’d drunk not too long ago. Wine hardly ever did a number on you to slightly fuddle your conscience. 

You give him a sheepish grin, scraping the tips of your heels against the pavement, shying away from the intensity that his eye holds. “Same here. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His face contorts in a way that clearly indicates that the feeling is in fact very, mutual. “Mind if I take down your number?” He asks, pulling out the latest new Iphone from his pocket. You only engaged in conversation through the dating app both of you met in and you thought it seemed only fair to give him your number after weeks of meeting him.

He taps a few things on his screen before you’re met with a white screen with only your first name and birthday typed. It is then when you wonder how he came about on knowing your birthday, if you had ever mentioned it in your electrifying conversations either on the app or this date. Most likely the second option. 

You knew his name, well if you’d call it that, supplying you only his first initial. By his angelic looks, he was definitely of Valyrian descent. And you hate how much of a sucker you were for those blonde bitches. You knew he was in the last year of university, double majoring in political science and business here in the capital. You also knew he had a geriatric maine coon cat, Vhagar, who’d stuck with him since he was a child. 

But that was pretty much it. 

You nod, typing out the most critical information both of you needed in order to secure the second date. “Here you go,” you hand back his phone with such caution that causes his lips to quiver in a smirk. 

He leans forward, too forward in a way you feel his breath steadily fanning your face and the warmth that radiates through his chest. You don’t pull away as his head lowers, keeping your gaze steady with his, admiring the amethyst hue of his lone eye that twinkles against the low street lights. 

A snakes his hand around your hips, which normally you’d slap away if it was any other man. But he was different. A rare gentleman who bought you a single winter rose even when you were five minutes late, let you devour the fries off his plate, and hashed your steak without asking. 

You wanted him to kiss you and perhaps even more. 

You wouldn’t say no. If anything you’d whimper out a simple “please” if it came to that. 

However, just as you expect his lips, it doesn’t come. He pulls away with a lupine smirk on his face, waiting for a response to a question you did not hear.

You cough away the slight embarrassment, “What?” 

“I asked what your password was,” 

Before you process how he did it, you see him wave the gray screen of your phone around your face, waiting for the six digit code. 

Oh. 

“I got your number but you did not get mine and you’re gonna need it when I take you out to dinner again.” The blonde in front of you points out. 

True.

It almost feels too goofy revealing the code that multiple of your friends tease you for. Nevertheless, you stutter out the numbers: one, two, three, four, five, and six. 

You hear him dryly laugh, shaking his head side to side as he types out the three sets of numbers. “Mmm, you need a better password, darling. One might think you want your personal information stolen,” He teases. You shift your thighs to a close at the term of endearment, already feeling the slightest tingles in a place where you desired him the most. 

You make a sound of agreement making a mental note to change it later tonight. After he hands back your phone, he combs back the loose silvery hair out of his face into a neat bun that well flatters his face. “Take mine for example; it’s five, twenty-two, one-thirty. Easy to remember.” 

“Is that your cat’s birthday?” You questioned. 

“No. It’s the day we matched on Tinder.” 

You are lost for words. Not even you knew the exact date you matched with him, only knowing it was around a few weeks ago. Judging by your reaction, he knew what you were thinking. 

After a few more rounds of flirtatious conversations, you both decided to call it a night, waving each other goodnight as you watched as he sped up in a black, shiny Dragon T6, a vintage motorcycle that was the second most precious thing he owned. (The first being Vhagar). You’d be lying if that wasn’t one of the list of reasons why you swiped right. A tall Valyrian man, with long locks, that rode a motorcycle definitely modeled the countless dark romance books you’d spent hours reading. 

To your frustration, the price of Uber had doubled the amount you’d paid for hours ago. Not even Uber Share happened to be near your price range. For ten gold dragons, you could buy a week’s worth of groceries!

So you sighed, turning off your phone. Your usual bus was still in service and way cheaper than the ridiculous prices of Uber. And while it was too late to be out by yourself, it was a risk you were willing to take. 

As you rummage through your wallet for some copper coins, you hear a deep, rumbling sound of an engine revving up close to where you stand. 

It’s him. Braking his bike on the side of the road where you are. His expensive Lysene suit coat no longer hugged his body, wearing only a white dress shirt that was half unbuttoned, giving you an impeccable view of his perfectly rounded cleavage and the multiple hidden tattoos you didn’t know he had. 

“Hop in,” He says, pointing his head to the side. It was not a request but a demand. 

You tilt your head, unsure whether to say yes or no. “Is it safe?” You ask. His chest moves, seemingly laughing as he opens the visor of his helmet. “Of course it is. I’m a cautious driver, never had an accident and I don’t think I ever will. I made sure to drink water after a glass of wine, so I’m not under the influence.” 

He narrows his eye, observing the hesitation written throughout your face. He offers the spare helmet from his bag and hopes that it will coax the uneasiness. 

“If you’re so dubious about it then by all means the bike is yours to drive.” 

It’s your turn to laugh because the thought of you riding something of high value and rarity seemed absurd and silly. You were someone who did not have experience in driving in general whilst also being terrified of the narrow and steep roads of King’s Landing. 

But there was no humor in A’s eye. 

“You’re not serious are you?” 

He powers off the bike before he scoots back from his seat. “I am.” He eagerly pats the spot he has saved for you. 

“You do realize that this is a Dragon T6, right? They practically don’t make these anymore!” You gesture your hands around the expensive looking machine that was probably worth more than your left kidney. 

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms on his chest. “What’s your point?”

You scoff playfully, “My point is that manufacturers don’t make these anymore and if I crash it–”  

“–You should have a little more faith in yourself. Maybe this will come naturally to you but you’ll never know if you don’t try.” 

You can’t help but exhale in slight failure. This was a conversation you knew you couldn’t win with him. “Look, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing but I happen to be a great teacher. And if you do crash I’ll buy another, they aren’t that expensive anyways.” The Valyrian man shrugs as if thousands, or hundred thousands of gold dragons were nothing. 

You mutter a “fine” under your breath which makes him all giddy with excitement and slides the helmet down your head. He double checks if it's secured before he lifts you to sit properly on his bike. 

“Or I have one or two things in mind of how you could repay me.” 

Every single piece of information he hurled your way was taken deep into your head. And you did your best to pay attention to it all under the sharp needles of nerves going through your spine. At some point he had given you little rubs up and down your back to soothe your nerves. The effect was anything but that, instead all you could think about was how his hands would feel against the bareness of your body.

Fuck. 

You tried to push those lewd thoughts away as he demonstrated the anatomy of the Dragon T6. The ignition was a little red switch right below the speedometer, whilst the clutch was on the left hand side and the accelerator in your right. The gear shift was something you had to get used to as it was not on your eye level but rather a small little lever near your foot. 

Once he feels you’ve gotten the grasp of how everything works it was time for the ultimate test. “Alright now we start. Are you ready?” He asked with an eager smile tugging his lips. 

No.

You nod your head, adjusting the mirrors to match your height. You feel the tips of his fingers lift and turn your chin towards him, “Use your words, darling.” There it was that name again that made you clutch your thighs together. You audibly gulp, “Y-yes I’m ready.”

“Good,” His hands squeeze at your hip bones to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widen almost comically to what you assume is his cock pressing insistently onto your ass. It was hard, and through the thin material of your dress you could feel it throbbing full of want and need. Gods, how will you ever focus now?

A brief image flashed through your mind of how much and what was packing underneath his undergarments. The length and thickness and how it would feel wrapped around your palm as you’d stroke him from base to tip, or the taste of him as you’d take him inside your mouth, or having his full length stuffed deep inside you as he fucked you dumb. 

Something tells you that he knows what you are thinking but neither of you speak about it. 

Finally, he takes your hands onto the handles of the clutch and the accelerator and you, being a step ahead, check if the gear is on neutral before you release the clutch and to your satisfaction it is. The blonde behind you smiles at you proudly like a teacher would to their student. 

“Now, you’re gonna slowly release the clutch and twist the accelerator slightly…there you go, good girl. You’re doing such a good job.” He coos at your ear. 

The beat of your heart raced almost out of your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of a small accomplishment or the low timbre of his voice praising you but you welcomed it. 

With confidence you didn’t know you had, you decided to drive the rest of the way to your apartment without complications and took up every tip the man behind you advised. The cool air kissing your skin and the adrenaline wildly pumping through your veins, awoke something in you and slowly you began to comprehend why A loved riding. 

You had felt like a small bird taking its first flight through the skies. 

When you both reached the parking lot to your apartment, you returned his helmet and a small part lingering inside you did not want to let it go. You enjoyed it and the freedom it brought you.  

“That was so fun! I can’t believe it was that easy. Think I need to save me up for one of these,” You quipped patting the bike. 

He throws his head back to let out an amused laugh, “Or I can just give you this one,” A tone of nonchalant laced through his voice. 

You look at him baffled, “I was–” 

“–But first we need to get you your license before I–” 

“–Absolutely not, I was jesting.” You snipped, making him roll his eyes with a slight pout drawing out his lips.

“You’re stubborn and difficult, has anyone told you that?” You chortle thinking of the numerous times you’ve been called that. 

“Plenty of times but I reckon this won’t be the last.” 

He hums tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “I guess I have to fuck it out of you.”

You blink.

The hue of your cheeks increased tenfold, your feet and body became paralyzed to what he had just confessed. 

Had he just said that to shut you up? If so it worked. 

You didn’t know how to respond to something as bold as that and to your inclination you lowered your head but the blonde behind you couldn’t have that. You felt the tips of his fingers roughly grip your jaw to meet his gaze. The amethyst hue of his eye turned into a darker shade of violet as he eyed between your eyes then your lips. 

Every part of you screamed for him to kiss you or to do something to appease the longing. 

You instinctively parted your lips when his head began to dip towards your lips. The tip of his nose brushed delicately against your own then it slowly trailed to sniff at your neck, the sweet smell of spiced peaches. 

“Nyke jaelagon ao,” He whispered in his mother language. 

“Pār emagon issa,” You said before you mentally said ‘fuck it’ and knocked the wind out of him with a kiss. 

He lets out a mix between a growl and a groan as he feels your wandering hands tugging the roots of his hair. Something you yearned to do ever since you saw how long and silky his hair was. 

And Gods did it meet your expectations. 

His lips moved against yours most ardently and with equal fervor. It was hungry and needy the way your teeth clashed with his, tongues dancing for dominance until you hissed when he bit your lower lip. 

You melted into his warm embrace, deciding to tease him by rubbing your palm on his clothed length, detecting a damp patch. You shot your eyes open, separating away your lips. 

“Did you just cum?” You panted heavily. 

A smirked, “I came when you first got on the bike and I was about to cum right now.” 

You quirked a brow, “That’s what did it for you?” Redness coated his cheeks and before you knew it his lips were on you again and his hands lifted the hem of your dress, exposing the black lacy panties you wore just for him. 

“Incase you get lucky,” Your best friend Sara teased just the day before when you and her took a shopping trip to a Lysene lingerie store. 

Through some imaginary telepathic communication, you thanked Sara. 

He groaned feeling the wetness that gathered through your folds. You weren’t just wet, you were dripping like honey on a hot summer’s day. A mischievous idea popped into his mind, something so lewd that made the head of his cock twitch with excitement. 

You squealed as he swiftly turned you around and twisted the ignition switch on. Was he going to make you drive in this state? 

“Move your panties to the side.” He commanded behind you. 

You pushed away the curiosity and did what he bid you to do. “Good girl. Now lean forward a bit.” You shifted yourself forward until you could feel the warm metal of his seat pressing tenaciously at your bare cunt. 

A gasp turned into drawn out moans as the blonde behind you revved the accelerator at a speed that made stars appear in your eyes. It felt good, so obscenely good that all thoughts about being in a public setting flew right over your head. 

You began to grind yourself with the vibrations, creating as much friction to your bud as you could. 

“That’s it, darling,” He encouraged behind you, increasing power to the accelerator just enough for your arousal to coat his bike. “Fuck yourself on my Dragon.” 

You clenched around nothing, whining as you felt the pure waves of ecstasy slithering down your spine. It was unlike anything you ever felt, not even the vibrator you owned made you topple over the edge.

In ten seconds or less, you loudly moaned, not caring who heard or saw you, as your legs shaked and the coil around your stomach loosened, cumming absolutely hard. 

Your limbs felt entirely spent as if you ran three laps around Rhaenys’ hill. 

“Mmm, do not get too comfortable, now, darling.” He boasted smugly as his fingers scoop your honey to his lips, humming at the delicious taste. “I haven’t even fucked you senseless yet and after witnessing this I want nothing more but to ruin your ability to walk straight for week.” 

A low whine escaped your lips at the thought of him roughly taking you. “Is that what you want?” He questioned, lowering the straps of your dress to expose your breasts to his gaze. 

You sighed contently, feeling his tongue enclosing around your perk nipple. “Yes please,” You tenderly loop your fingers through his hair. 

“I promise I will never make you beg,” He murmurs against your breast, “But you sound so pretty when you do.” 

He had kept true to his word as he not only bent you over his bike as he fucked you raw, but took you three more rounds on your couch, bed and shower until you absolutely passed out in his arms. And for the rest of the week you couldn’t walk straight without limping. Thanks to Aemond Targaryen. 

READ ON AO3

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche @iamkookiesforyou @jeben196 @just-a-harmless-patato @moneypriestess @ladymoon666 @angelinap09

empty is who I couldn't tag sowwy besties.

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.”

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.